Page 120 of Gamble with Me
“Just say what you need, boss,” the blond one said in a low voice, his eyes flashing murderous lightning. “Whoever did this to you will get what they deserve.”
“It’s not just about me, Connor,” Zyon said, slowly sitting up. The painful scowl on his face was quickly replaced by a relieved expression.
“This is Valeria.” He stretched his arm in my direction, inviting me to join him. I hesitantly took his hand, warmth spreading from where our skin touched. I entwined our fingers, hoping it was a sign he had already forgiven me, but he avoided my glance.
“Valeria is Kellerman’s ex.” Zyon turned to his men, who stared at us curiously. “She went through unforgiving shit with him.” He paused, the lethal glint in his dark eyes sending shivers down my spine. “I want him alive.”
“As you wish, boss,” Connor confirmed, and two behind him grunted their agreement. “We’ll serve him on a silver platter, as usual.”
“Can’t wait.” Zyon smirked, letting go of my hand. “Malin, announce a reward on Chester’s head.”
My heart missed a beat when I gaped at his devilishly handsome yet bloodthirsty face.
“One million dollars for any information leading to his capture,” Zyon declared, stunning everyone in the room. Connor exchanged looks with his companions, and Dorian whistled. “You’ll get five million if you find him by the end of the week,” Zyon finished, motivating his men as well.
“You shall have him, boss.” Connor grinned and left with his comrades closely behind him.
“Spread the word, Malin,” Zyon continued giving orders. “I want everyone from low-key drug dealers and hookers to the mayor’s office to know about it. Those who don’t want money can ask our family for anything, and their wish will be granted. Whatever their heart desires, they will get in exchange for Chester Kellerman.”
“What about the Italians?” Dorian asked, handing Zyon pills and a glass of water. “People believe you’re dead.”
“Keep a low profile and avoid media,” Zyon replied, wrinkling his nose at the big white pill. “My death is an advantage we can use.”
“Okay.” Dorian nodded. “I’m heading to the clinic to correct the paperwork so no one notices missing supplies. And you, man, call our mother. She’s freaking out.”
“I will,” Zyon promised, waving goodbye to his brothers.
Once they were gone, his head tilted back, and he closed his eyes, releasing a heavy breath. I watched his tired, almost transparent face, clenched jaw, and palm pressed against the wound. He was in terrible condition, but I couldn’t help but admire his resoluteness to sacrifice so many resources to catch my husband.
“On a scale from one to ten,” I started in a quiet voice, brushing my fingertips against Zyon’s muscular forearm. “Where one means you’re not angry and ten implies you want to chew my head off, how angry are you at me?”
“Twenty-seven,” he hissed but didn’t jolt his arm away.
“That’s serious,” I stated with a hint of a smile, moving closer to him. He lifted an eyebrow at me, his eyes studying my face.
“I’m not joking, Valeria.” He abruptly stopped my fingers when they traveled to the hem of his shirt. I looked at him, almost gasping at the intensity of his fiery gaze. “My love for you is the purest thing I have in my life. I won’t let you stain it with lies.”
“I’m sorry,” I breathed, my lower lip quivering. I didn’t know what else to say to melt his stone-cold heart.
“Are you?” His demonic eyes pierced mine like sharp blades.
“No,” I admitted, pushing back the tears that threatened to fall on my cheeks. “I would gladly do it again if it meant protecting you.” I inhaled a shaky breath, holding his stare. “I would do anything to keep you safe.”
“Anything?” he echoed, his fingers touching my chin.
“Anything,” I confirmed, taking his hand and kissing his palm softly.
“I love you, Zyon,” I declared with as much certainty I could muster. “I don’t like your methods. I hate your behavior when you’re angry. I despise your line of work, but I love you, and no one will take you away from me.”
A smile formed on his plump lips, and pride gleamed in his eyes.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered, leaning closer.
Our mouths clashed in a heated, passionate kiss that forced the world around us to disappear. I wanted to express every possible feeling through it. It was the best way to show Zyon I meant every word I said. He was my everything.
But our makeout session ended as abruptly as it started. Zyon pulled me closer, and I accidentally pressed against his wound, making him hiss in pain.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, observing the place. “Are you okay?”
