Page 119 of Gamble with Me
“Valeria,” Zyon sighed, rubbing his eyes.
“Don’tValeriame,” I hissed, doing my best not to yell at him because he didn’t listen at all. “You’re planning to kill Chester.”
“No, I’m not.” He slowly shook his head, glimpsing at the road. We were close to the Starlight building. “I plan to make him regret ever putting a hand on you.”
“Wait, what?” Dorian abruptly turned to me, confusion written all over his face. “What is he talking about, Valeria?”
I blinked, unsure about how to answer. I didn’t want everyone to know about Chester beating the crap out of me.
“Tell him, mon cœur,” Zyon prompted me, knowing his behavior and actions would be supported by his brother.
“Valeria?” Dorian’s glance told me he expected an explanation. I puffed out a breath, my shoulders slumping.
“Chester hit me,” I whispered, refusing to look at him or Zyon. They had no idea how uncomfortable, vulnerable, and ashamed I felt talking about it.
“Fucking bastard,” Dorian spat, pressing the gas pedal because the lights changed. “Malin noticed something on your face, but we thought it was makeup.”
“Yeah, permanent,” Zyon deadpanned, unfastening his seatbelt. We entered the underground garage of the Starlight building.
“I don’t want to make a fuss about it,” I said, stopping Dorian from exiting the car. “I don’t want people to see me as an abused wife.”
“No one will see you that way, Valeria,” he replied, watching his brother sauntering toward the elevator. “Just have patience with him, okay?” He gave me a kind smile andgently squeezed my hand. “Zyon fought hard to keep you safe. This revelation shook his entire belief that he did the right thing.”
“Do you think I should’ve told him earlier?” I nervously played with the hem of my dress, hoping that at least Dorian would understand my actions.
“Yes, but I respect your decision.” He let go of my hand, opening the door.
I followed his example, scowling at Zyon’s broad back. He was clearly in pain, holding the side of his abdomen. His eyes were closed while he waited for the ride, and he barely stood on his feet.
“Why can’t he be as understanding as you?” I mumbled, shaking my head in disbelief over Zyon’s determination to rule his world like the king he was despite the evident suffering.
“Would you love him if he was different?” Dorian countered.
Zyon rejected all my attempts to catch his look, and when I tried to touch him, he yanked his hand away. He was furious. His aura was soaked with potent anger that was swallowing everything around him. He craved revenge, and he wouldn’t stop until he got it.
I sighed, refusing to let bad feelings influence my behavior. Zyon’s wrath was justified. I would have been infuriated, too, if I were in his shoes. Just the thought of Chester orchestrating an attack on him made me want to choke him with my bare hands.
Still, Zyon’s apparent disinterest and rejection hurt like fuck, more than any beating from Chester or any insult he ever said. Being pushed away by the person I loved was another level of pain.
Stepping to the side when we’d gone up the elevator and reached his floor, I let Dorian and Zyon walk before me into the spacious living room with a spectacular view of Manhattan. As usual, the place was furnished in dark colors and decorated with artwork that no gallery in New York would be ashamed of.
However, four men from whom I only knew Jamal instantly caught my attention. The other three looked like embodiments of my nightmares, with deadly looks, tense postures, and guns on their hips. Two had similar faces with dark curly hair and the same crooked noses. I assumed they were brothers. The third one had long, dirty blond hair tied in a bun, and his green eyes scanned me as if I were an alien, making me highly uncomfortable.
“Zyon!” Jamal jumped from the sofa the moment he saw his boss, running to him like a son who hadn’t seen his father in months. A gentle smile tugged on my lips when he tightly hugged Zyon, relief written all over his face.
“I’m okay, Jamal,” Zyon said, a laugh escaping him. “But if you squeeze me a little more, you’ll tear Dorian’s precious stitches.”
“Sorry,” Jamal exhaled, turning away to hide his teary eyes.
“I’m okay.” Zyon squeezed his shoulders before he joined the other three men and Malin, who appeared out of nowhere behind the sofa.
I watched the strange scene, feeling entirely out of place. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to stick my nose in Zyon’s business. What if something went sideways, and I would have to testify against him?
“Thank you for coming,” Zyon interrupted my panicking thoughts, shaking hands with his soldiers. “I have a high-priority task for you.”
My heart clenched. This was the beginning of Chester’s end. I would be a widow, and my daughter would become an orphan.
Oh, God!
