Page 70 of Fortress of the King

ANGELO

I feellike I’m losing my fucking mind where Rayne Michaelson is concerned.

I leave her apartment after a shower the next morning. I actually slept for once. Insomnia has been a friend of mine for years. Though spooning a woman isn’t usually part of my repertoire, with her, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

I’m meeting with my brothers later today to discuss the Russians and the Rombaldi mess. I got word that the bust for human traffickers is going down Thursday, so we’re sitting tight and laying low until it blows over. Meeting up at Ma’s place for dinner and a catch up with my cousins seems like an opportune time to do so.

Ma has a large, gated property next to Marco’s place, he has a zillion-acre fucking castle. We bought the land years before and built her the house of her dreams where she could live her own life but still be close to us. It’s somewhere that always has security, and she knows she’s safe. Pa would have wanted that; he would have been proud of us.

I meet up with Enzo and we venture to the gym at Fortress because I need to get some shit out of my system.

“We gotta go through those figures later,” I tell him as we spar around the boxing ring. I get a jab in here and there, but we’re both pretty good fighters, we’re not here to kill each other.

“Know it, bro, things are going from strength to strength. There’s nothing to worry about.”

He’s been handling all things security for years, even though I oversee it, he’s my right-hand man. Enzo is the only one who knows about Rayne and the level of my involvement with her, however, it won’t take my brothers long to find out since I haven’t gone out with them in weeks.

There’s something deep and twisted within me that wants her to be mine. To possess her, make her look at me like I’m her everything. And I haven’t felt that in a long time. I’ve never cared.Could I teach her?

Is it possible for a woman to fall in love with the devil? I consider it as Enzo snickers at me.

“This Rayne chick has me on the fucking hop,” I say, as he tries to right hook me. Luckily, I dodge in time.

“The gallery girl?” Enzo laughs, not easing up one bit, trying to back me into the corner.

I duck and fight my way out of it. Unlucky for him, I know his moves well.

Enzo’s been married before, but it didn’t last too long. He spends his life much like the rest of us, going from broad to broad, yet nothing ever seems to stick. “Why do you say that, because you’ve had dinner with her once?”

“She spent the fucking night,” I bark, like that explains everything. He knows exactly what I’m like with women, and they never stay over. “Then I dropped in on her last night, like a fucking lap dog. She was drunk, and I ended up falling asleep there. Best fucking night’s sleep I’ve had in years.”

He does a double-take and then laughs. “Fuck, Angelo, you’ve got it bad if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask.”

He chuckles. “What do we know about her?”

“Gus did a sweep, but I’ve asked him to dig a bit deeper; she seems a bit clean, except some people aren’t all from the sewer like us. She moved from New York not long ago, escaping a shitty husband, bad divorce, and all that shit.”

“You think it’s wise fucking a girl from the gallery?”

“Don’t you start.” I uppercut him twice just to prove my point and he steps back, fast on his feet, but I’m that little bit faster, and I clip the side of his jaw. “The gallery is one thing, but it’s like she’s put this spell on me. I can’t fucking concentrate.”

I don’t even believe the crap coming out of my mouth these days. I sound like a pussy, although I know I can say this shit to Enzo, and while he’ll rib me about it, at least he’ll listen.

“You going soft?”

“Nah, it’s not like that, but this girl…fuck me.”

We slow down our sparring.

“I can’t wait to meet the girl who has finally got you in a spin with your balls tied up,” he cajoles. He’s known me long enough now to know how I roll, and this isn’t my normal behavior. “I’ll shake her hand and give her a pat on the back, then wish her well, she’s gonna need all the luck she can get.”

“That’s just it, imagining anyone, even you, putting your hands on her makes me want to commit murder.”

Enzo smirks, ripping off his headgear as we come to a stop. We’re both beat. “And here I was thinking it was Jonas who had to be told who he can and can’t lay his hands on.”

Jonas is the man-whore of all of us, our younger cousin with the babyface and a penchant for undesirable women.

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