Page 10 of Fortress of the King

ANGELO

I’veno fucking clue what led me here, aside from lust, of course. Which is just the right amount of stupid that you’d expect from a teenager, not a grown man who should know better.

What the fuck I’m doing giving anyone a grand tour of the gallery is anyone’s guess, and it gets me a few sideways glances. I realize I’m singling Rayne out, but I stopped giving a shit what my employees thought a long time ago.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, and without looking, I know it’s Marco; one of my younger brothers. He keeps wanting an answer about tonight’s extravagant bash, and if I’m going, it should be obvious since I’m the host. I do the dutiful thing and ignore the call.

Instead, I spend the next forty-five minutes of my valuable time pretending to be boss of the century instead of the horny bastard I am underneath it all. I don’t know why this woman has me so captivated, then again, I’m a shallow son of a bitch.

I admire beauty and intelligence. And most of all, a woman who can hold her own. There’s something regal about her. Something that lures me in.

The life I lead gives me very little pleasure, so when something intrigues me and gets me this excited, I’d be a fool not to explore it in its entirety.

I watch her from my periphery as I show her around. From the loading zone to the high-tech safe where all the valuables and priceless art are kept.

I’m pleased to see everything is neat and orderly down here. That saves me from firing anybody today.

Rayne follows me around, asking questions in all the right places and politely nodding when I explain something. She’s eager to please. I idly wonder if she’s this submissive in the bedroom. A part of me hopes not, yet another part of me dares to imagine it, even if that would mean breaking my own rules.

The truth is, I wanted this distraction, Ineededit. Everything in my life is complicated right now. Everyone wants a piece of me, but not her. Even if she is taking the tour with me out of obligation.

Maybe it was wrong to come here, I know that’s possible, but I answer to no one.

And I admit, I want to fuck Rayne Michaelson so bad, but I know that can’t happen.

For one, she’s too sweet for me. Delicate like a rose. And I’m the thorn in her side, at least figuratively speaking.

I could slap myself for being so fucking weak, but my mother always told me that I had a way with women, just like my father before they got together.

“So, you hail from New York?” I venture, because clearly, she’s not going to strike up a conversation.

“Born and bred,” she replies. “Though I needed a change after the divorce and everything.”

“Understandable.”

She looks down at her hands. “Everyone told me not to marry him, guess I should’ve listened.”

“We all make mistakes.”

“Some worse than others, it seems.”

“Tell me to mind my own business,” I press. “But why the hell did he let you go?”

She turns to look at me, her green eyes bright as she assesses me. “Things got messy towards the end, and I ended things with him, which he didn’t take too kindly to.”

I barely know her, but I don’t like the thought of anyone putting a frown on her face. It makes me want to hurt them.

“The guys a fucking idiot,” I add. “Pardon my French.”

She swallows hard. “Thank you for saying that. I tend to agree.”

He hurt her. I can tell by the way she rubs her hands down both arms protectively. Now that has my interests piqued.

I shouldn’t make it any of my business, but my gut tells me this guy is bad news. One thing I’ve never done is lay a hand on a woman with violence. I may get a little rough in the bedroom, but they’re up for it and it’s consensual. It burns the blood in my veins thinking about someone hurting her.

I make a mental note to find out more about this asshole cheap-suit ex.

My phone rings again, and I see it’s Marco for the hundredth time. I really have to get going.

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