Page 28 of Kissing Danger

Poisoning the fabric at the studio had been a sophisticated tactic. Definitely the work of a professional. Their method should have worked. None one employed at the studio would have recognized the poisoned fabric for what it was, and it could have killed a lot of people before they realized what happened. Even the paramedics may not have realized the cause, and could have been poisoned as well.

Unfortunately for Caprice’s sabotage plans, I’d decided to make an impromptu visit to the studio in order to see Deacon, and I ended up putting a stop to their plan before it could do too much harm.

Caprice had to be seething right now, to learn that all her efforts had only resulted in the death of a single assistant designer whose absence wouldn’t affectFantaisistein any way.

Our car pulled to a stop in an alley behind the building.

“You’re going in alone?” Deacon asked as I held the door open for him.

“Of course not,” I said with a smile. “You’re here.”

I could see the concern on his face, and wondered if this was the moment he would realize what he was about to walk into, but a moment later, he steeled his resolve and stepped out of the car.

“Don’t worry,” I assured him as I closed the car door. “I’ve brought my own security. They’re already in place and just waiting for me.”

The door into the building had no visible security. There was a camera over the doorframe, but I had faith that my own people had already taken care of it. They wouldn’t be my people if they weren’t competent enough to take care of something so simple.

So, I strolled through the back door with ease and stepped into the reception area from the rear. The security stationed there was obviously surprised by my sudden appearance, but like true professionals, they didn’t bother to even question me before pointing their weapons in my direction.

Deacon grabbed by arm, understandably scared to be staring down the barrels of multiple guns. No matter how gung-ho he seemed about the situation, nothing could prepare someone for the first time they faced a weapon that could kill them with less effort than it took to sneeze.

Just as I’d promised, my security was already in position. Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, they took down the armed guards like silent shadows. Not a single bullet was fired, and no one was killed yet. The guards were simply restrained for now. My people knew better than to start killing until I’d given permission for lethal force. My main goal was always to keep a low profile, and that meant not leaving a string of bodies everywhere I went and resorting to deadly measures only when necessary.

I had no qualms against killing, but I always made it count when I did.

The guards in the front lobby weren’t the building’s only security. We ran into nearly a dozen guards on our way to the top floor.

By the elevator.

In the elevator.

Guarding the stairs.

Standing sentry on the top floor.

They were everywhere. Caprice was not taking any chances.

My people took care of every guard we came across with the same efficiency as the first ones, and my path to Caprice’s office was left unhindered.

“You’ve gotten paranoid in your old age, Caprice,” I said as I entered the office. “Not losing your touch, are you?”

The woman sitting behind the desk wasn’t even that old. Late thirties, at most. As someone well into their forties, I had no room to talk, but I knew the comment would piss her off.

She sneered at me, tapping her sharp red nails against the top of her desk. “What is this? The Wolf has his own pet now? Are you taking it for a walk?”

Some people, like D’Angelo, knew my name. I suspected that man might even know my real name. Caprice knew the name Nathan Sterling, but she didn’t know my original name, and I could tell it bothered her. The way she insisted on using my moniker, her lip twisting in displeasure over the word, made it obvious how much she hated being out of the loop.

The fact that D’Angelo and Caprice were both leaders within the Italian Mafia, yet there was such a difference in their information, was telling. Caprice was the head of the Vidales family, but she didn’t control the entire Italian Mafia. She was a lord who imagined herself as a king, and it gave her too much confidence.

A pair of women stood behind Caprice, armed to the teeth, and ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Her personal bodyguards were specially picked, and very lethal.

Unfortunately for them, so was I.

A man sat on the other side of the desk, unremarkable except for the twisted scar just above his left eye. According to my spy’s information, this was the hitman who had poisoned my employees.

I nodded toward him. “Your man here missed. I’m not dead. Neither is my company. I’m surprised you thought that would work.”

Caprice scoffed. “I’m not foolish enough to think such a simple thing could kill you. That was merely to send a message.”

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