Page 83 of Twisted Kings

It was a bright but cold morning. Golden sunlight lit up the kitchen, adding a cheerful glow to the place. For the first time in ages, I felt positive about the future. Dad wouldn’t expect me to go looking for him, so taking him by surprise should be easy.

Not that he was weak. Far from it. His most loyal men were almost always close by. Men like Torrance, who’d happily eliminate any threats to keep him safe.

I turned on the coffee machine and chewed on a dry cracker while I waited for it to heat. I’d discovered cream crackers helped keep the nausea at bay. Ginger biscuits, too.

Just as my coffee finished brewing, the crunch of gravel alerted me to an unexpected visitor. When I looked out of the window, a sleek black car stood, engine idling, outside.

I frowned. Had Declan sent some of his guys to evict us? Surely not. Eden would have said something if so.

A tall and altogether familiar figure climbed out of the passenger seat, his broad shoulders clad in a camel wool coat and his eyes obscured behind dark shades.

Lucian Forsyth. What the fuck was he doing here?

I grabbed my phone and fired off a text to Cassian to let him know, then reached for a small paring knife and tucked it into the back of my jeans. Lucian didn’t scare me, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

From the look of surprise when I opened the front door, I was the last person he expected to see.

“And you are?” With his cut-glass accent, Lucian could quite easily have walked off the set of Downton Abbey.

I folded my arms across my chest. Lucian’s gaze dipped down and lingered on my breasts, making me silently wish I’d chosen a large shapeless sweater instead of a tight technical tee that hugged my braless breasts. But I didn’t react. He probably wanted to make me feel uncomfortable.

“And you are?” I asked, ignoring his question. “I don’t think the property owner is interested in double-glazing or finding religion, sorry.”

Lucian’s eyes flared with rage at my blatant mockery.

“Lucian Forsyth, Cassian’s father,” he replied after pasting a fake smile on his handsome face. “Perhaps I could come in.”

“Who?” My brow scrunched like I had no fucking clue who he was. God dammit. A Hollywood career was in my future, for sure.

“Don’t play the innocent with me, you little bitch!” OK, so I’d officially exceeded his patience. Good to know he had a short fuse. And also unsurprising. “Where is my son?”

“No idea. Have you checked the Daily Mail Online? They seem to run stories about him on the regular.”

I watched with amusement as a vein in Lucian’s temple throbbed like it might burst at any second. He glanced back toward the car, presumably checking in with his security detail, and then, without warning, he lunged for me.

Before I could react, his fist circled my neck, squeezing hard enough to cut off my oxygen supply. But I didn’t panic. Torrance had trained me for shit like this.

Lucian was so busy spewing bullshit about my lack of morals, his son’s stupidity, and more that he failed to notice when I reached for the knife tucked in my waistband.

It wasn’t until he felt the tip of the blade dig into his dick that he froze. For a moment, his eyes widened in surprise, then his grip on my neck loosened.

“Touché, Miss di Luca. I see your father has taught you well.”

“I have no clue what the fuck you’re banging on about,stronzo. Now fuck off before my friends get back and call the police.” Kyril murdering him in a fit of temper was a legitimate concern, but whatever.

Lucian chuckled, even though the knife hadn’t moved a millimeter and he remained in imminent danger of a DIY penile amputation. The guy had balls. I’d give him that.

His security detail seemed oblivious, which I was grateful for. If trained men armed with semi-automatics jumped out of the car, I was in big trouble.

A burst of laughter drifting over from the cliff path sent my heart rate spiking into the stratosphere. I was in trouble if Verity and Dario appeared. Lucian had no morals. He’d think nothing of threatening my sister to get what he wanted, and I doubtedDar had taken a gun when he took Ver for a casual stroll on the beach.

Lucian took a step back and threw me an approximation of a smile, but from the ticking vein in his forehead, there was still a risk he might stroke out.

“I’ll leave you to your…” He waved his arm expansively, treating me to a lung-full of some expensive cologne. “Whatever whores do on their day off.” My blank expression stayed fixed in place.

How suspicious would it look if Lucian Forsyth took a tumble off the cliff? Asking for a friend.

Sadly, my bright idea bit the dust as soon as a stocky, ex-special forces dude climbed out of the car and grunted something incoherent.

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