Page 16 of Captured By the Mafia Boss
“There were rumours about Henry’s… Shall we say, lack of respect for consent.”
“I…” It was… Over me? My father died because of me?
“Trudy was concerned too. Henry was sniffing around, making himself crazy about the fact I was her second in command while she’d made him play prince in waiting. Your father was talking—quietly—about breaking off the match. Then he disappeared.”
“You don’t know what happened to him?”
King goes to shake his head and my blade presses into his neck.
“No.”
But he’s lying. I’m certain he is. I watched this man more than is healthy when I lived under his rule.
“May I remind you that I have a knife at your throat? You seem to have forgotten.”
He pauses and those poison-ivy-leaf eyes narrow.
“You’re not going to like this.”
“Tell me.”
He licks his lips, but his gaze doesn’t waver from mine. “Henry made a throw-away comment about taking your father out of town. I should have…” He swallows. “I blame myself,” he says softly.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to comfort him. I bite off the impulse.
But I look for reasons for King to dispose of my father and come up as blank as I have since he went missing. He was no threat to King.
And the worst thing is, it makes sense that my father might have been reconsidering my match with Henry. I’d seen the concern on his face as Henry became more erratic.
It’s too logical not to be true.
It doesn’t mean King doesn’t deserve to die. There is one more charge, and this one is undeniable.
“Why did you kill your brother? For power?”
The bastard laughs. “You think I killed him?”
“That’s what everyone thinks.”
He sobers.
“I know. But when I execute someone, I don’t feed them poison anonymously.” King’s lip curls with disgust. “I shoot them. That’s my way.”
I consider this. He’s not subtle, King. He doesn’t give a flying flamingo how anyone judges him.
“Remember how he was found?”
“In the garden, having had a heart attack then fallen and cracked his head open.” A so-called accident.
“He thought he had Trudy completely broken. Under his control. But he didn’t. By the time I arrived it was too late for me to do anything but take the blame.”
I don’t understand but something is ringing true in his words. I keep the knife pressed against him. Because a beautiful, dangerous man should not be underestimated. The heat of hisskin has seeped from his neck to my wrist while we talk, like two trees growing and merging together over time.
“Trudy poisoned him.”
I snort. “Trudy killed her husband, then invited his brother to come and live with her. Why? They were happy and in love.”
“They seemed so. But it took a lot of makeup to conceal the bruises. Eventually, Trudy feared for her life.”
