Page 23 of Fortress of the King

ANGELO

When I slidein beside her, she’s pretty shaken up with eyes like a deer caught in headlights. She looks distraught and highly vulnerable.

“Oh my God, Angelo ….” she splutters, clutching her hand to her chest.

“Rayne, you need to calm down,” I say in as level a tone as I can muster. Freaking the poor girl out more than she already is probably isn’t the best idea, though I want to go back out there and put a bullet in his brain. I’ve killed for less.

“.... What the hell just happened?”

“With what?” I reply nonchalantly as I sink back into the luxurious seat, unbuttoning my suit jacket like nothing happened. “Rayne?” I prompt when she doesn’t answer.

“Back there …” She thumbs back to the curb where I’ve left her ex lying on the ground in a crumpled mess, probably not a good look so close to the gallery doors, but my guys will move him on.

I don’t answer the question. “Is that motherfucker really your ex-husband?” I retort. It seems hard to believe from where I’m sitting. I dust imaginary lint off my pants while I wait for her answer.

“Unfortunately, yes. I don’t even know what he was doing here…”

“I don’t like a man putting his hands on a woman like that.” I straighten out my tie and glance at her. “Where to?”

She looks back at me with wide eyes like she’s surprised by my admission. I’m not a total fuckface. My father and Mario may have raised a tyrant, but my mother taught me how to treat and respect a woman.

“I can only assume you don’t want to just ride around in the limo all night,” I drawl.

She looks a little frantic for a moment, “Wait, I left my jacket back at the gallery–”

“I’m sure it will still be there in the morning.” I glance at her and raise an eyebrow. “I think it’s best we get you home, don’t you?”

“Let me just text Melody, she’ll be worried.”

“I’ve made sure she will get home safe,” I say, crossing one leg over the other.

I wait anyway as she fishes her phone out of her bag and quickly sends a message. She sits back and stares ahead of her.

“So?” I ask her carefully.

“Oh… umm.”

I smirk at her sudden internal struggle on whether to give me her address or not. Little does she know I already know where she lives.

“Back Beacon Hill.” She reels off the address, which I bark through to Gus, then I put the partition up. Dom, my bodyguard, sits in the front with him and we roll away from the curb.

“Nice area,” I comment as I reach forwards and open one of the decanters built into the limo.

“Right in the heartland.” She nods. I’m sure she’s just filling in space, and I have the urge to smile.

I pull out the Dom Perignon instead, pop the bottle, and pour a glass for her without asking if she wants a drink. I think she could do with something a little stronger, but she doesn’t seem like the whisky-slinging type to me.

“This Plentitude Rose is exquisite,” I say, leaning over to pass her the glass, then pour myself a whisky neat.

“Did you just have that chilling?” I can see she’s calming down a little bit as she takes a sip.

“You never know when the occasion is going to strike,” I tell her simply.

“Do you always ride around in a limo?”

I smirk. “Only for occasions like tonight. Patricia was beside herself, by the way.”

“I think that’s mainly because of you,” she quips.

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