Page 5 of Fortress of the King

RAYNE

Angelo Medici.

The king of Boston himself.

The touch of his hand sent an electrical current through me, one I disguised well.

Of course, I know who he is. Everyone knows. Although in all of my wildest dreams, I never expected him to look likethat.Or to be so utterly charming, in a cold, calculated kind of way, like an eagle eyeing its prey.

His name alone evokes danger.

He certainly demands attention, that much is apparent, but it's the weight of his glacial and unforgiving eyes that momentarily stun me.

Beautiful yet dangerous. It rolls off him in perilous waves.

He’s the ruler of this town, the ruler of everything. I’ve been told he has no feelings, that he doesn’t possess a sensitivity chip, and I can tell he’s a man with secrets.

While I despise men like him, I don’t let it show on the outside. I kept my composure, and I could tell from his body language how that may have irritated him.

I don’t want to be on his bad side. Playing the game of chess takes precision and skill, and if I wish to be queen, I have to make my move wisely and keep one step ahead.

I’ve seen pictures of him on the internet, but in person…there is no comparison. How can a monster be so blessed with looks, charm, and charisma?

He’s handsome beyond belief. Tanned with a sharp jawline and thick eyebrows framing a rugged, chiseled face. He has lips that could make you sit up and beg for buttermilk.

Angelo Medici is the god everyone makes him out to be and more, so much more, and it’s slightly debilitating, like when you stare at the sun for too long and begin to see spots.

Claire turns to me as we make our way back to the office. Today, I’m stuck with her as my lunch buddy, which wouldn’t be so bad if we had one thing in common. Instead, she treats me like an afterthought and an interloper, which I suppose I am, so I should give her some credit for being perceptive.

Plan A has already fallen into place quicker than I could have hoped for, and all it took was a reasonably tame Prada dress and showing a little skin.

I thank my mother for my looks. They sure as hell didn’t come from my father, and I’ve been making sure I give extra attention to my appearance for when I eventually ran into him. It was only a matter of time.

“You don’treallyknow who Angelo Medici is, do you?” Claire exclaims.

I’m a little insulted by her incredulousness, like I’m some dumb blonde without a clue who just stepped out of college. But I need to act the part, so I play along.

“I’ve heard about him, of course,” I say, biting my lip. “It’s not like you can move to Boston and not know who Angelo Medici is.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, he was acting weird, though. He isn’t usually so…hands-on.”

Imagining that monster in bed does things to me that it shouldn’t.

You hate him, remember.I tell myself.You hate all of them.

It’s not personal, it's business, and I hope I managed to grab his attention enough that he wants to pursue me. It’ll be so much easier and less complicated if he comes to me.

Angelo Medici meets a billion women a week, and he has the pick of the bunch. There is likely no woman in this entire universe that wouldn’t be affected by him, which is a problem.

My stomach curdles at the thought of what I have to do.

While I have no choice in the matter, I have to get on his radar and make sure I stay there, exactly where I need to be, until my next move.

“Oh, how so?”

She pulls me to one side, then looks around her, as if we could be overheard. Clutching onto my trench coat, she whispers, “Angelo Medici is not someone you just latch onto, touching him like that. God, Rayne! You’re lucky he likes you, or you’d probably get your head chopped off for even looking at him the wrong way, let alone shaking his hand!”

My eyes go wide as I pretend to be shocked. “I hope you mean that figuratively?”

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