Page 49 of Devious Kingpin
My brother was right. The girl was a psycho. Yet, there was nothing I could do to forget her. Trust me, I had tried. It was as if she’d cast a spell on me binding me to her. From that first fucking moment I’d seen her.
“Ahh, that kind of resembles your dick.” My brother’s voice came from beside me and I narrowed my eyes at him, silently telling him to shut the fuck up. Priest loved agitating me. It used to be the only pastime we had during those days at the goddamn convent when my mother ensured we got preferential treatment. I couldn’t even fucking go there. “Are you sure she hasn’t seen it?”
I shrugged. “If she had, she’d be coming to me willingly.”
“You wish,” he retorted dryly. “I don’t think that girl wants to touch you with a ten-foot pole.”
Without another word, he left me standing there, staring at my destroyed car. He learned not to get attached to things. I never quite succeeded. While our dad wasn’t looking, our narcissistic mother ensured everything we loved was destroyed. First, the blanket we preferred. Then the toy, and it slowly progressed from there.
As I drove down the highway bound for Harry Reid International Airport, Juliette dozing quietly in the seat next to me, I pulled myself from the thoughts I rarely let myself cycle through. The mid-afternoon sun reflected against her hair, colors of mahogany dancing under it. Just like that day she destroyed my car. I finally understood her—at least some of her. The way we’d grown up had always affected Priest differently than me. He’d learned to get attached to nothing and nobody. I, on the other hand, had a hard time letting go. Most of the time, I didn’t care for things, but every so often I got attached. To my grandfather’s car. To Juliette.
My brother was probably right. Juliette didn’t want me, might never want me. So why, oh why, couldn’t I let her go?
Today I finally got my answer. Because she needed me.
CHAPTER22
Juliette
Less than sixty minutes later we were in the air and on our way to Chicago.
Help had come from the most unlikely place. Dante DiLustro.
The man I had been resisting from the moment I’d met him. That clean, earthy scent had been tickling my nostrils ever since the priest had pronounced us husband and wife and he kissed me.
Our first kiss.
At least, the first kiss with him that I could remember. His lips claimed mine, and strangely enough, it was pleasant. Even as I felt his lips curve into a satisfied smile, I enjoyed it. But that was a far cry from sex.
Then there was Dante’s scent. It was soothing. Clean and manly. He always smelled like a damp forest, rain on hot pavement.
After the whole incident on the cliff, he helped me into his car before driving toward the airport. Priest had driven him here, apparently more than happy to blow my cover. For some reason though, I couldn’t find it in me to be mad at him. Dante hadn’t said a word, not that much conversation was possible in the convertible. Once at the airport, a private jet was waiting for us, ready for takeoff.
Since I didn’t have shoes on my feet, Dante scooped me up into his arms and carried me up the steps and into the cabin, set me in one of the luxurious seats, buckled me in, then took his own spot on the other side of the cabin.
I was surprised he didn’t take a spot next to me, but I certainly wasn’t complaining. I reveled in the space.
“What about all our stuff?” I asked. I had left everything in the hotel. My purse. My phone. Everything.
Dante didn’t look up from his phone. “It’s already in the baggage compartment.”
“Efficient,” I muttered, since I had nothing else to say, sufficiently drained. He didn’t comment, so I turned my face to stare out the window where all I could see were fluffy, white clouds, reminding me of pillows.
Exhaustion pulled on my bones, but I didn’t feel comfortable enough to fall asleep. It wasn’t that I thought Dante would attempt anything. Not after what had just happened on the cliff. My mind refused to calm down—especially after that little catnap in the car. I snuck a peek at him through my lashes, but he seemed oblivious to my presence.
The silence stretched, Dante vigorously typing on his phone. Probably planning world domination.Or Travis’s ending, I thought smugly. The latter was so fucking satisfying. There was raw elation in knowing that he wouldn’t be alive for much longer.
A good person would feel remorse. I didn’t. Not even an ounce. I wasn’t a good person. I was so hungry for revenge and blood that it suffocated me. I would have preferred to kill Travis myself, but I’d settle for this. For years, I had lived in fear—an irrational one—but I couldn’t shake it off. The terror that that fucker would slip to the world what they had done to me plagued me. It was bad enough I knew my shame. I didn’t want anyone else knowing. Strangely enough, my small admission to Dante didn’t shatter me. In fact, it almost felt like a weight lifted from my chest.
Maybe I’d let it all fester inside me for far too long and I ended up consumed by it.
I let out a heavy sigh. There was no point in pondering about it. Regrets brought you nothing. I had to move forward, deal with it my own way.
“I’m assuming you have at least two bedrooms in your place in Chicago,” I said, breaking the silence that suffocated the cabin.
His eyes darted my way. “More than two,” he replied.
I offered a small smile. “Does it matter which bedroom I take?” I asked.
