Page 12 of Fortress of the King

I glance up at my brothers. Dante and Fynn are the youngest of the boys, with my sister, Valentina, being the baby of the family. Marco stands next to them, along with our cousins, Jonas and Santino, from my mother’s side.

Every time we get together like this, I think about Roberto and how much trouble they’d all get up to. It’s bittersweet because we were close. He would have made a much better Don than me.

Dante and Fynn are twins but look completely different. Dante is softer somehow, dark-haired with a tan. Fynn is the playboy of the two of them, blonde and blue-eyed and likes to party; he takes after my mother in terms of looks and personality.

Marco is tall like me, in fact, we often get mistaken for twins. He’s typically Italian and speaks his mind, which is why we often clash. He’s my right-hand man, along with my best friend Enzo, who isn’t here tonight. He’s probably off schmoozing some chick in his fancy sports car. He runs all the security at Fortress Industries and is the only one, other than my brothers, that I trust implicitly. He’s like a brother to me.

“Don’t tell them that,” I muse. “Their heads will get so big they won’t be able to fit through the door.”

She laughs, and it’s a terribly lovely sound, for I don’t hear it often enough. I would have thought she may have moved on by now, but there’s been no hint of anyone. Being she and Roberto were early on in their marriage, there were no kids from the union.

A part of me always wonders what could have been with them, what kind of father he would have made.

We settled the score with our rivals, for once not the Russians, and a turf war ensued. It’s kill or be killed, and I’ve more than enough blood on my hands to last a lifetime.

I made Roberto’s murderers suffer, letting Mario have the final blow.

I don’t think he’s ever gotten over it, and now he lies in a hospital bed waiting for treatment. Things have gotten progressively worse, but I update him every other day with the progress.

He, of all people, understands the hardships.

My brothers are arguing over football, and it seems like a good time to excuse myself.

“Excuse me,” I say to Allegra as she turns to me. “I’ve got some business to attend to.”

“So late at night?” she says, her eyes dancing with delight.

I kiss her on the cheek. “Get your mind out of the gutter,” I say in her ear. “Gus will drive you home.”

I slip away quietly, stopping to refill my drink from the bar before disappearing to my study. It’s one of the few places where I can really find peace because it’s soundproof.

As I turn, I see Allegra watching me in my periphery, yet when I meet her gaze, she turns away.

Not for the first time, an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach.

The way she was looking at me…I’m sure I only imagined it.

She’s like a sister to me, and it’s never going to happen again, not in this lifetime.

Or the next.

* * *

I’m restless most of the night, and I toss and turn like a wild cat. I’m sure it’s Rayne Michaelson giving me nightmares.

I wake up extremely groggy and tired.

I roll over as the morning light blinds me through a crack in the velvet curtains. I rub my eyes and yawn. My thumping head is telling me I probably downed way too much whiskey last night. I spent the night reading the report on Rayne and now I’ve discovered some startling news.

Her ex-husband was up on assault charges, which were eventually dropped. The bastard probably talked his way out of it, and she likely spent far more time in that marriage than she should have.

My blood runs cold at the thought of anyone mistreating her. It makes me want to track them down and slice them, one by one.

I also have the other file Gus sent over, probably with the help of our in-house computer whiz, Vaughn, who handles all our IT and traces what we need in a rush.

I was too busy with Rayne’s file to bother looking at any of it. She’s consuming my every waking moment, and that is something I need to get a grip on.

It doesn’t stop my hand from reaching down to my dick as I stroke myself. I imagine those

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