Page 95 of Fortress of the King

RAYNE

It painsme more than it probably should to pawn the jewelry Angelo bought me at the auction. I take a final look at the pieces before going and getting ready for the Gala. Today is the day.

Escrow, unfortunately, is taking too long to settle with the Dane situation, and I need to pay Enzo for the rest of his services. It saddens me because Angelo’s face lit up when he saw me wearing the diamonds.

I feel like a cheap whore more than I ever did before.

The bittersweet truth that I’ve betrayed him rings true more than any emotion I’ve ever had.

I’m all nerves and don’t know where to put my restless energy. Melody, bless her heart, treats us both to a salon visit straight after work, so I get my hair washed and styled before having to get ready for tonight. I think she notices I’ve been visibly off in my own world for the last few days, but she’s polite enough not to say anything about it.

I’m walking on a tight rope right now, juggling balls in the air, and if I drop one ball, the whole lot will crash.

I pawn the jewelry straight after the salon visit and go home to get changed, feeling like shit but better in some ways because I have the cash for when I need to run.

I reread the email in the cab ride; a drop will be made tonight before the Gala starts, and a syringe will be placed in my clutch bag when I visit the south side ladies' room at precisely 9pm. I have to leave my purse on the counter, go into the stall, and wait for exactly three minutes before coming out. Then I’ve got forty-eight hours to kill Angelo Medici.

Yes, that’s right, I’m supposed to poison my mafia king by lethal injection. According to the instructions, the poison is undetectable and will simulate a heart attack.

I have no intention of jabbing Angelo with anything. As the hours and minutes pass by, I

have faith that Enzo is going to come up with something,anything. He has his guys trying to encrypt the high-tech security blockers on the IP and the mobile devices, but it’s taking longer than expected.

If that fails, I will risk my own life and tell Angelo everything. I have no choice.

I sit down at my coffee table in my robe and decide to write every confession down on paper. I finger the gold edging around the linen stationery I bought as I think about what to tell him. I know that if things go bad tonight, and by that, I mean if something happens to me, then I want him to know the truth.

He may be a lot of things, but he deserves that from me. He’s not the monster I thought he was.

While I know that I’m a plaything to him, my own feelings have come front and center, and I shouldn’t have let that happen.

I didn’t want to get my heart involved. It was just a business transaction, a means to an end; it was supposed to be simple, get the intel, and my sister goes free.

I didn’t imagine things would get this messy or for them to keep changing the rules. And I certainly didn’t plan to fall for the head of the Boston Mafia, but it appears I have, and I’m not sure what will be left of me after this whole thing goes down.

There was no way we could ever be more, it was never going to play out that way, but the

dark and dangerous way he has about him lured me in, like a moth to a flame.

I shouldn’t feel secure in his embrace, except that’s the only place I’ve ever felt whole in this mess. Like I’m untouchable, which is, of course, completely untrue. I’m not safe anywhere.

There has been more than one occasion where I’ve forgotten myself and the task at hand and actually enjoyed it and let him give me pleasure. And what pleasure he gives. I can still feel him everywhere…

It all comes pouring out as I write. He has to know.

When I’m done, I seal the letter inside the envelope and get dressed, knowing that when he reads it, I’m a dead woman.

I wear a figure-hugging black dress with cut-outs all through it, so parts of my skin are exposed, it has a plunging neckline and a large gold collared necklace. I strap on some heels, forcing one foot in front of the other.

I stare at my reflection, happy with what I see because I look like the perfect, soulless monster that he’ll remember me by.

I haven’t seen him since the night I got drunk and he texted me saying he’s been busy, but he’ll pick me up at eight.

It’s better this way. Please, Enzo…find something…

True to his word, Angelo texts me when he’s downstairs.

I glance at my appearance in the hall mirror, my makeup is heavier than normal with long fake lashes and red lipstick. I almost don’t recognize myself, though that’s nothing new. I don’t know who I’ve become since all this began. I stopped seeingmesome time ago.

---