Page 1 of His Queen

CHAPTERONE

NICOLI

Vengeance.

Some say it’s cold. But me? I say it’s warm. Thick.

It’s like blood. It becomes you, and you become it.

Vengeance can easily become a reason for living. It can also be the death of those who refuse to let go of it. It may not be fair or kind, but it will find a way to prevail.

With my glare fixed on Nunzio, all I think about is how his family wronged my wife by murdering her parents, how they left two children orphaned, alone, and a four-year-old girl scarred for life because she watched her mother die.

My father was wrong not to retaliate while Tirelli blood was still fresh on Ferrero hands. We should have acted then. Our family should have done something then. If we had, the series of events that followed would never have happened. That fateful night when Mirabella was taken from me by a secret I vowed to keep would never have occurred if revenge had been taken against those responsible at the right fucking time.

It’s now several years later, and there is nothing I want to do more than shoot this motherfucker standing in front of me. I want the lead of my bullet to crack open his skull. I want to watch the blood ooze from the wound and seep through the asphalt of Club Myth’s parking lot. That way, I can walk by it every fucking day and be gloriously reminded of how I sent this asshole to hell.

If it weren’t for Mirabella standing behind me, her fingers pressed against my back, I’d probably do it. I’d shoot him, and I won’t give a shit if his wall of muscle takes me down after. I’d die a happy man knowing I’m going down to hell to watch Nunzio fucking Ferrero burn for eternity.

God, it was a stupid idea to bring Mirabella to Club Myth. I should have known better than to cave to pressure. However, with Alexius determined to have me and Mirabella front and center of this family while he and Leandra take a break from social engagements, he was all too eager for me to bring her here when she practically shouted from the top of the stairs that she wants to come to our family-owned sex club.

Now look where we are, in Myth’s parking lot and in the middle of a situation that has the potential to turn into a clusterfucked bloodbath.

“Not with her here,” Maximo warns, reminding me through the red haze that Mira is standing behind me. “Take her home. Now.”

Nunzio smirks. “I’d listen to your bodyguard here. This is no place for a beauty like her.”

“Fuck you, Ferrero,” I spit out. “Do not mistake me for my brother. Not only do I lack constraint, but I don’t give a fuck, either. I would gladly aim my gun at your throat and blow it out the back of your goddamn neck, right here, right now, without so much as blinking.”

“Right here, right now, you say?” He places his hands in his pants pockets, his calm and collected demeanor grating down my spine like a jagged-edged knife. “You’ll kill a man in cold blood in front of your wife?” He glances hungrily at Mira. “Who looks ravishing in that stunning lace dress. Red is definitely your color, sweet pea,” he says to Mirabella, and I swear to God his words inject me with a kind of rage that has the power to burn cities to the ground. But the way he smacks his lips together as if he can already taste her gets me. And with a growl, I pull out my gun and point the nuzzle at his forehead within zero-point-five fucking seconds—two breaths before Nunzio’s wolves have their pistols pointing at me.

“What are you going to do, Del Rossa? Kill an unarmed man right here on your club’s motherfucking doorstep?”

“Tempting.”

“What would your clientele think of that? The twin brother of the Del Rossa king killing one of his brother’s guests without provocation?”

“Provocation? You breathing is provocation enough.”

I’m biting my bottom lip, my finger starting to squeeze the trigger, when Alexius’ car pulls up with a screeching halt, his headlights casting us in an ominous glow against the dark.

“Maximo, take your sister to the car. Now,” I order, and Mira’s fingers dig into my back before her curses start flying around as her brother hauls her back to the car.

“Nicoli!” My brother’s voice booms through the night as he leaps from his car. “Stop this shit right now!”

“No can do, brother.”

“Nicoli, put your goddamn gun away,” he demands.

Nunzio lifts a brow. “You should listen to your brother.”

“I don’t have to do shit. What I want to do is shoot you in the throat and watch it explode out the back of your neck.”

“Nicoli, in God’s name. You’re giving him what he wants.”

“If giving him a bullet to the brain is what he wants, I’ll gladly oblige.”

Nunzio merely smirks at me. The bastard isn’t fazed at all by having a gun pointed at his ugly motherfucking face. I wonder if his lips would still be eerily curled up at the edges when he’s dead.

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