Page 27 of Bastard Prince
“Why?” Gregor asked, condescendingly. “You think I should? That would make you an accomplice, wouldn’t it?”
“No! Good God, man. No. Don’t kill him. Don’t kill anyone.”
“I make no promises.” One more deeply drawn breath, then Gregor spat, “Get it done, Wilson,” and stormed away.
I could hear more frantic footsteps, likely the pacing of Councilman Wilson, back and forth along the terrace. I inched closer to the curtain, wanting to pull it back just a little, needing to see exactly what was happening. I was almost there when Enzo clamped his hand around my wrist, freezing me where I stood.
I turned my head, giving him a scowl. He scowled right back, shaking his head.
So, like the mature woman I was, I stuck out my tongue.
Enzo’s snort was quiet, but not quiet enough that we wouldn’t get noticed if we kept it up. Slowly backing away from the covered terrace door, Enzo and I moved for the other exit to the ballroom, the one that lead deeper into the conference center.
Once we reached the relative safety of the twisting halls, we both let out a breath.
“What the actual fuck is going on in this town?” Enzo huffed, his forehead scrunched in thought.
“Don’t look at me,” I said, moving quickly to keep up with his long strides. “I just got here.”
As we reached the main lobby, Enzo dug out his phone, scrolling to the number he wanted and stabbing at the screen like it had personally insulted him.
“Rock? Yeah, no. Still there.” He shook his head at whatever it was Rocco said in reply. “No, you shit head, so shut up and listen, will ya? We got some shit to discuss. Get the crew and meet me in the basement. Good.”
He ended the call abruptly, disconnecting and sliding the phone back inside his jacket pocket. We had reached the doors, moving to the stairs at the front of the building, and I reached the bottom in what any woman in heels would tell you was record time, when another familiar voice cut through the hot night air.
“Francesca De Marco.”
“Oh, you havegotto be kidding me,” I growled, my shoulders tight with sudden tension. The last time I had heard this voice was the night of my engagement party. The night my whole fucking life fell apart in an instant. “Please tell me this isn’t happening.”
“Francesca?” Enzo’s question reached me, but I didn’t reply, instead pasting on my best Resting Bitch Face before turning around and facing this new problem head on.
“What can I do for you, Special Agent Anderson?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Francesca
She looked older, which made me exceedingly happy, with her thin blonde ponytail still in place and her eyebrows looking as though they were even bushier, which I wouldn’t have thought possible, but there you had it. She stomped toward me like a charging giraffe, smirking as if she had some sort of secret and just couldn’t wait to tell me.
Fuck, I really hated this bitch.
“Long time, no see, Francesca,” she purred, her gaze running over me before moving to Enzo. “I see you managed to con another sucker into putting a ring on it.” She smiled. “What is it with you and using men to get ahead in life?”
“Excuse me?” I scoffed, crossing my arms. “For someone who basically stalked me for five years,” I paused, feeling Enzo stiffen as I spoke, but I ignored him, “you sure don't’ know anything about me or my life. I was the one with all the power, Caroline.” I used her first name since she was insisting on using mine. “Eric came to me, used me. And you sure enjoyed watching, didn’t you, you freaky bitch.” My smile widened, not reaching my eyes, and I hoped it looked as menacing as I felt. “You probably still get off to thoughts of me, don’t you? I bet that’s the real reason you and Eric broke up; not because you hated that he was with me in any capacity, but because you were jealous you weren’t.”
I watched as her eyes darkened, her anger showing in the color rising to her cheeks when she realized I knew about the end of her relationship, but Caroline Anderson didn’t flinch.
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Francesca? You think because you smile and act all demure that people don’t see what you are, but that’s where you’re wrong. I know exactly what you are.”
“And what is that?”
“A criminal,” Caroline stated, spitting the word. “A filthy, no good, low-life piece of shit, and I am going to do everything in my power to bring you down.”
“Listen lady,” Enzo started, stepping to my side. I was grateful that he didn’t step in front of me, the small gesture meaning so much to me, and it took everything I had to keep my face serious when that one small action had me wanting to pounce on him again. “I don’t know who you are, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t speak to my wife like that.” His words were polite, exactly the kind of thing a refined gentleman would say in this type of situation, but the look on Enzo’s face told a completely different story.
His face said that if Special Agent Caroline Anderson wasn’t careful, she’d wind up in a body bag.
“Ah, yes,” she said, turning her attention fully to my husband. “Enzo Argenti, the Bastard Prince of Las Vegas. How is your father these days? Or is it not time for his obligatory twice-yearly visit?” She fake pouted, her thin lower lip sticking out dramatically. “Is that why you were so quick to snatch up Eric’s left overs, Enzo?Daddy issues?”
