Page 33 of Hostile King

Her gaze cuts from the main table to mine, the icy look on her face indicating a blizzard cold enough to ice me out for eternity. “A place called Mag Mell where your childhood photos haunt the walls. Your mother told me I was under her protection. Then this morning she asked me to attend a function. Had I known before I stepped inside the private jet that I was attending this event, I would’ve worn something more celebratory.”

Her nose wrinkles as she offers a tight sugary simper.

“I didn’t come here to see you, Tomás. Or to echo your sexual conquests. I’m not pining for your dick or hoping for another night in your arms. Not at all. You made your decision. This evening was a set up.”

She shrinks away from me.

“Excuse me. I need to use the washroom. And please don’t follow me or I’ll make sure your wifey knows the essence of my virginity still lingers on your tongue.”

I could grab her wrists and drag her from the room kicking and screaming. It wouldn’t bother me at all. In fact, I’d get off on it. And I’d probably fuck her mouth to put an end to this charade, because I’m practically panting, and my skin is alight with lust.

Instead, I let her walk away to give me a measure of space to collect my sanity and consider the next move.

She bypasses the occupied tables and glides to the rear of the room with the grace of an elegant movie star. Looking over at my empty seat, Shane entertains Bianca and her two bridesmaids with my kid brother, Matheus.

He arrived ahead of our mother to talk over business with me. The suave punks have the women eating out of their hands, and probably off their dicks later.

The second Carina vanishes into the hallway, panic sets in like a blinding smog. I recognize the armed soldier who slips out behind her—one of the guys on my payroll. Even still, she shouldn’t be here. Mother should have never meddled in my affairs. André needs to be taken outside and reminded who the boss is.

It’s too late though. I’m already in hot pursuit, marching toward the washrooms to hunt for her.

It takes longer than I can bear when I’m accosted by a lean woman who claims to be Bianca’s dance teacher. Nerves wobble her high-pitched voice when she asks if I’d be interested in a few couple sessions. She withers when I tell her it won’t be necessary, that Bianca can have the first dance with her father.

Apparently, that statement was worse than blasphemy. Only I don’t give a fuck right now. My patience for small talk is threadbare when I’m hunting out the one person who anchors me to the world.

As expected, waiting outside the ladies’ room like a burly doorman is the guard called Costa. His folded arms quickly unravel when he sees me storming towards him.

“Sir…I checked the washroom before she entered. She’s in there alone.”

“Good.” I nod curtly. “Stay right here. Don’t let anyone in. Stall them…and if they try to push past you, shoot them dead.” Costa blinks at me, understanding the undercurrent of my violent streak. “And ignore anything you hear. Even if she screams.” I add ramming the door with my shoulder.

When I cross over from bouncy carpet to glossy cream tiles, my new shoes clip out each stride. They echo in the squeaky-clean environment where low lighting edges an extensive mirror hung over four stone basins. On the wall before me, a floor to ceiling mirror reflects my tailored navy suit and snow-white shirt beneath a fitted vest.

My short hair is fixed into place with a little product and the diamond studs in my earlobes twinkle like stars. The attire I’m struggling to breath in is just like all the other exclusively stitched suits I’ve worn over the years, except this one depicts a man on the verge of making the biggest mistake of his life.

The toilet door flings open. “Go away, Tomás.” Carina glares at me from the cubicle, her hand clutching her belly. “This isn’t a game.”

I cross my arms over my rising chest and stare at her. This woman is everything I could ever desire in a female, and more. She surpasses perfection, reaching the highest pedestal available to the human eye. And even then, mortals like me can see how she shines.

“Come here.” My demand unwinds like a fishing reel, waiting for her decision to bite.

Carina stiffens, her eyes narrowing to portray seething anger. “No.”

“Carina, come here.”

“Howdareyou!” She hisses, moving from the false safety of the stall and into the open space.

Poker straight strands swish over narrow shoulders that are hidden beneath midnight colored mesh. Insignificant gems nestled in her tiara wink with each confident step she takes, begging me to replace the unfitting tiara with a queenly crown.

“You don’t have any authority over me, Tomás.”

I snarl inside, battling uncontrollable hunger mangled with rage. One emotion I’m completely comfortable with, the other is an anomaly. “I think you're mistaken.”

Her brows drift upwards. “Oh, really?”

“You arrived here withmyfamily. You’re atmyevent asmyguest. If I tell you to fucking gag on my dick, Carina, you’ll do it.” I’m losing a handle on my self-discipline.

“I’d sooner kneel in front of Mikel than have your hands on me again. He’d be a worthy replacement to test your brittle theory.” Fingertips reach for her scarred mouth.

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