Page 1 of Fortress of the King

ANGELO

“Angelo Medici?”

I glance up from my newspaper slowly, unhappy with the intrusion and the fact that my quiet time at Render Coffee House has been disturbed.

The beautiful woman looks down at me with bright, shining eyes and a big smile.

Well, well.

Perhaps all is not lost after all.

My bodyguard moves toward her, but I spare him a quick glance, and he backs off, stepping back into the shadows.

She seems to know me, but that isn’t hard since everybody knows who I am.

The fact that she has the gall to interrupt me, however, is what surprises me the most. Most don’t, or won’t, if they know what’s good for them. She’s either incredibly brave or just plain stupid.

Those that know me in my world say I’m a tyrant. Some would say a beast; it’s just the degree of the monster which varies. Today, I must have summoned some patience.

I arch an eyebrow at her interruption.

“Claire.” She holds a hand to her chest like it’s meant to mean something to me. “Claire Holdwright. I work at the gallery.”

Big fucking whoop.

Holdwright.

I wonder if we fucked?

The gallery is one of my many business ventures in the city, though I'm more of a silent partner with my brothers as shareholders. I’m just here for the art, the opulence, and I enjoy acquiring beautiful things.

Hmm. Surely, I’d remember those long legs wrapped around me. Although I’ve never fucked a person in my employment or someone who works for one of my companies, that’s just not good for business.

I don’t do well with names, either. I’m better with faces.

I also don’t like women who like to chat, and Claire Holdwright seems like a chatter.

My temper starts to flare; she shouldn’t be talking to me like we’re old friends. However, because she’s beautiful, I momentarily let it slide, and also because a slight movement in my peripheral ensnares my immediate attention.

The woman standing to her right captures my gaze, and my eyes lock on hers. It’s almost as if they’re unwilling to look away yet have no choice in the matter.

Christ, she’s fucking beautiful. Angelic.

In my world, very few things surprise me. Very few things keep my attention, but there’s nothing like a beautiful woman I don’t know with long, golden hair, pale flawless skin, and gorgeous legs to grab me by the balls and shake.

She definitely shakes.

Like a predator sniffing out its prey, I’m suddenly alert and interested, though I let none of it show on my face. My mask has long been in place, I’ve been in this game a while, and I play the part of a king well enough to own, divide and conquer it.

I want to own her, even if just for a night.

Like a siren’s call, she doesn’t look away. Instead, those green, penetrable eyes stare right back at me, like she isn’t afraid of the monster deep inside me, like all of the bad shit I’ve ever done no longer exists because she’s my atonement.

Clearly, this fucking coffee is spiked. I should slap myself.

I’ve always been a romantic at heart but never, until now, a fucking idiot.

“I’m so happy that you’re going to be contributing to the charity auction at the gallery. This year's donations are phenomenal, thanks to your generosity, of course,” Claire goes on because I’ve not said a word. She beams down at me like I’m Jesus himself.

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