Page 68 of King of Praise
Micah has given me so much—safety, protection, a chance to rediscover myself beyond the shadows of Lucas’s abuse. The least I can do is offer him the same unwavering support in return.
The burner phone buzzes on the side table, drawing our attention. Micah’s name appears on the screen, sending my heart into my throat as I reach for it. The message is brief.
Micah
All good. Miss you.
Two simple sentences ease some of my worry, while intensifying other emotions. He’s safe enough to text, but the brevity suggests he can’t say more. Can’t reveal whatever situation he’s dealing with in Columbus.
Olivia watches as I type a quick response, her expression knowing.
Naomi
Miss you too. Be careful.
“See? He’s thinking of you even in the middle of whatever’s happening. That’s the kind of loyalty I was talking about.”
She’s right. Even amid what must be a dangerous situation, Micah took time to reassure me and let me know he’s thinking of me. It’s a small gesture that speaks volumes about his feelings, about the depth of our connection.
“Now then,” Olivia declares, trying to distract me from dwelling on worries I can’t control. “Since we’ve covered the heavy emotional stuff, how about you tell me exactly what you’re planning to do with that lovely lingerie you bought at Violet Confidence the other day? Because that blush pink set looks absolutely devastating on you.”
I laugh, grateful for her ability to lighten the mood while still acknowledging the seriousness of my concerns.
This is what true friendship looks like, and I’m grateful to have it. The capacity to navigate both darkness and light, to offer support without judgment, to understand the best help sometimes comes in the form of expensive takeout and inappropriate lingerie discussions.
I lift my glass of wine and smile. “I guess it’s time I figure that out.”
Chapter 18
Threats and Traitors
Micah
The reflection staring back at me in the full-length mirror feels like a stranger. Gone are my usual worn jeans and leather jacket. They’re now replaced by an expertly tailored charcoal suit that feels foreign on my broad form.
The transformation is both physical and psychological—each carefully chosen element designed to project wealth, confidence, and just enough danger to intrigue rather than alarm.
My fingers work automatically, adjusting the blood-red silk tie that adds a distinct splash of color against the crisp white shirt. The motions are familiar despite how rarely I wear formal attire these days. Whether it’s infiltrating high-society gatherings or remembering how to tie a perfect Windsor knot, some skills never truly fade.
The suit jacket settles across my shoulders with comfortable weight, concealing both the holster at my back and the bandaged knife wound on my arm. In this lighting, the gray threading my dark hair and beard looks distinguished rather than aging. The overall effect is exactly what I need for tonight’s mission. A man who belongs in Francesca Barone’s world of criminal aristocracy.
I pick up the burner phone and open up the text communication with Naomi.
Micah
All good. Miss you.
Naomi
Miss you too. Be careful.
Something tightens in my chest. Having someone who genuinely cares about my safety feels both foreign and essential. The sensation is dangerous, yet I can’t bring myself to regret the evolution of our relationship.
Pushing these thoughts aside, I focus on final preparations. The invitation I obtained from Seb sits in my breast pocket.
The Glock settles comfortably against my spine, a familiar weight that provides more psychological comfort than practical necessity. If things go badly enough to require gunplay, I’ll have already failed in my primary objective—gathering intelligence on Francesca’s operations and identifying the traitor in our ranks.
The drive to Francesca’s estate takes me through Columbus’s most exclusive neighborhoods. Old money mansions give way to newer displays of wealth, each property more ostentatious than the last.
