Page 128 of Brutal King

Before I can do anything with it, however, Stephen clasps his hand around mine. “Let me do that for you.” He pries my fingers from the hilt and takes the blade from me. “I’d hate for you to get hurt.”

He cuts my food for me, then places my would-be weapon far from my reach. I stab a piece of steak with my fork and jam it into my mouth.

Stephen watches me with too much interest, an amused grin on his face. “Sofia Sinacore. Daughter of Nico Sinacore.”

“Congratulations. You know who I am.”

Chuckling, he sits back to get a better view of me. “I don’t just know who you are. I know what. You are a mafia princess through and through. I can see it in your eyes. You’re not just calculating how to get out of here. You’re thinking of how you can do itandkill me in the process.”

I stop chewing. That was exactly what I was just wondering, if there was a way to have my cake and eat it too. “You’re a mind reader.”

“It’s what makes me so successful.”

Stephen and Gideon’s resemblance is more than skin deep. That means, though I just met him, I know Stephen too. Except, it doesn’t help me at all. I could never read Gideon the way he could do with me. Dammit!

“I met your father years ago,” he continues. “In fact, I met you when you were a child. Do you remember me?”

“You must not have been that memorable.” Or Pops shielded me from being around him long enough for me to form a memory.

Laughter erupts from him. “You’re amusing, Sofia. I can see why Gideon would enjoy your company.”

Gideon. How can he so easily speak about the son he just murdered? My anger begins to rise in my throat. I can taste the acridity on my tongue.

“Good genes. Healthy. Beautiful. You know the risks of this business.” Stephen is still talking, though I’m hardly listening. I’m far too focused on staying calm as I’m filled with the image of Gideon being shot, the crimson water surrounding him, and the heartlessness in which he was left there.

The fork in my hand glints, and I shift my attention to it. Suddenly, that evil part of me, the one Gideon insists I have, perks up.

“I had higher hopes for my son,” Stephen rambles on. “In the end, he disappointed me. But in this, he did not. With you, he chose well.”

“Yes, he did!” I fist the fork and aim for his eye with all my might. The utensil sinks into his cheek instead, hitting bone.

Stephen screams, grabbing at his face. I leap out of my seat and make to run, but Henry throws out his leg and trips me.

“Where do you think you’re going, bitch?” I’m yanked up by my hair. Stephen drips blood everywhere as he bends me over the table. He slams my face against the wood, pushing my head into it so hard, I fear he may crush my skull.

“Let me go!” I try to buck him off, but he doesn’t budge. A drop of blood lands on my brow and I cringe.

Stephen tuts me. “You can’t be so squeamish about a little blood, dearie.”

“Sir,” Henry interrupts. “Shall I take her back to her room?”

“I think some time in the hold will do her good.” Stephen releases me, but not before digging his fingers painfully into the back of my neck. “If I were you, I’d work really hard on your manners. It would behoove you to get on my good side, because once you’ve delivered my grandchild, I will have no use for you.”

“Come, girl!” Henry wraps his meaty fingers around my arm.

I glance back at Stephen. As if I’ve merely scratched his skin, he wipes at the fork wound with a napkin. He’s staring at me in a way that makes me shiver. It’s the same feeling I got every time I saw his portrait.

“Traitor,” I hiss at Henry. “You’ll go to hell for what you did.”

He whirls on me. “Shut up, girl! If you want to live, keep your mouth shut. Your only chance at surviving this is to please Mr. Black. No one will come to save you. Gideon won’t risk returning now that he knows we are in full control of the?—”

“What do you mean, he won’t risk returning?” I dig my heels in.

The traitor goes stock-still. “What I meant was?—”

“He’s alive?” My heart hammers in my chest as hope fills my entire being. Gideon is alive?

Henry grabs me once more, this time, more roughly. He drags me down the stairs, to the basement. But as he fumbles with the key pad of the hold, his hold slackens.

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