Page 7 of Fortress of the King

My heart thumps as I stare at the screen. How on earth is he instant messaging me on my work computer?

It reads:

Miss Michaelson. Patricia tells me that you’re free this afternoon?

I just need to breathe and not read into this too much, though I doubt that he has anything but pattycake on his mind.

Hello Mr. Medici. Yes, I am free. Are you downtown?

I’ve decided that if I want to dabble in the devil's play-pen, I have to act like one of them.

Yes, and I’d like to give you that tour. Just like I promised. I’ll be there at 4 pm.

I think about what Claire told me about his kinks. I can only imagine what that bastard likes to do, and it should not excite me. It should repulse me. He is the epitome of all the things I despise and –for lack of a better word –hate.

This is business, not pleasure.

Wonderful. I’ll look forward to it.

I go to the bathroom to freshen up because I don’t have very long.

Just as I leave the stall, my phone rings. I glance at the number.Shit.It’s my attorney, and I have to take this, it’s about my pending divorce and messy alimony situation.

“Hi, Ira, any news?” I say in a hushed tone as I walk back to my office.

“The bastard won’t sign.” My attorney is hard-hitting, that’s why I hired her.

“What do you mean he won’t sign?” I have an immediate headache just thinking about it.

The bastard tried to ruin my life, but now he won’t leave me alone, and unfortunately, I was the one with all the money.

The fact that I supported him during our marriage while he focused on his ‘art’ has left me in dire straits. If only I’d listened to sound advice and got a prenup. Young and in love, I didn’t see the signs, not until it was too late.

“He’s not exactly agreeing to our terms. He wants more,” she goes on.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and whisper-shout down the phone. “What do you mean he wants more? I’ve given that fucking asshole of an ex-husband enough! If he wants a goddamn war, Ira, he’s got one! I’m sick and tired of his lazy ass…”

I glance up as I enter my office, and my eyes widen.

Shit.

Fuck.

Double fuck.

Angelo Medici is sitting in my chair behind my desk. My eyes meet his, and an unexpected jolt of electricity shoots through me, like lightning striking twice.

“Listen, Rayne, it’s all right. I’m still digging for information, this isn’t over. Fuck them. You have to stay strong in all of this, just like we talked about. We’ve come this far, and we won’t give up now,” Ira affirms.

But it’s all white noise.

I thought that seeing him for the first time was like swallowing razor blades, but this is sheer torture.

His mere presence is a force to be reckoned with.

Stay fucking focused!

I may have been a loyal woman in my marriage, but I’m not the sort of woman who is easily swayed by a man. Then again, Angelo Medici is in a whole world of his own.

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