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KINGSLEY

Dante comes to see me an hour after the procedure. Having extracted said chip, a further scan reveals no further tracking devices. Although in pain, I am glad that the mystery of how Tate has been tracking me has finally been solved. And it also gives me an indication as to how long Tate has been planning and plotting to take over the Murray empire once my father was gone. This has been his plan all along.

“We’ll move as soon as you’re well enough to do so,” Dante says, giving me a long contemplative look. Something in the way he looks at me has shifted, like he is digging deep into my soul.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“I think it’s probably time we went our separate ways,” I tell him, meaning every word. No matter how much it hurts me to say it, I don’t know how much longer we can go on knowing what I now know. Dante surprises me with his next words.

“I don’t agree with you,” he says, “but as I’ve always told you, you’re not a prisoner here.”

“Then I’m free to go.”

“If that is what you wish. But not before we put measures in place to ensure your safety, Kingsley. You can go out into the big bad world, but I won’t allow it until we’ve taken the necessary precautions to make sure Tate cannot touch you. I won’t have your death on my conscience.”

“And you’ll let me go, as simple as that?” I find it hard to believe that he would just let me walk away. That he would so easily give up on me. Had I really not meant anything to him?

“If that is what you wish.”

“Dante…” I start, but he cuts me off with a raised hand.

“We’ve got plenty of time to talk after you’re better. We’re flying out of the state for a week. When we come back, you’ll be in a position to take your place as the head of the Murray family.”

* * *

Durian Accardi isa master card player. He throws down his flush and laughs, giggling like a schoolboy, which makes me laugh even harder. I can’t remember how long it has been since I’ve had so much fun. I throw my head back and run my hands through my long tresses, my eyes landing on Dante as I lower them back down to the foldout table sitting between me and his father.

He sits facing me on the other side of the aisle throughout the flight on his family’s private jet. There is a darkness in his eyes, a hypnotizing glare that could have undressed me had I allowed his attention to affect me the way it probably should have. Instead, I hold it together, portraying the perfect poker player with the perfect poker face as I let my glance slide away from his several times.

Durian notices the sudden end to my laughter and looks at me, picking up on my discomfort. Never bullshit a bullshitter. He looks over his shoulder at his son, where his gaze lingers for a few moments, then back at me as he shuffles the cards, giving me a lop sided grin. I have a feeling we’ll keep going until we touch down wherever we land.

“Don’t mind Dante,” he starts “He can be intimidating at times.”

“Intimidating doesn’t start to cover it,” I mutter, which makes him chuckle.

“He’s worried about you. He’s taken it upon himself to make sure no harm comes to you.”

“Why?”

I still don’t understand why Dante would be so invested in my safety.

“It’s in his nature.”

I roll my eyes and scoff. “Men in this line of business don’t protect, they destroy. EvenIknow that, Durian.”

“He wasn’t always part of this life, Kingsley. You may be surprised to learn he came into this role by default. What’s the saying…” Durian looks around, thinking about something, trying to wrack his brain for the term he is searching for. “An heir and a spare!” he says, snapping his fingers. He appears extremely pleased with himself.

“What are you saying?” I ask, looking at him in confusion. No one has ever alluded to Dante having a sibling.

“He’s the spare,” he grins. “And he was…”

“Father.”

Dante breaks into the conversation, as though some form of telepathic energy has conjured him to cut short this conversation about him. He stands above his father, his lips pressed into a flat line as he gives him a stinging look. When he turns to look at me, I put my cards down and sit back in my seat. Dante has an unexplainable way of making me stop things to give him my whole undivided attention.

“This old man could do with something to eat,” Durian says, standing from his seat. My gaze follows him, knowing he has only vacated his seat for his son out of obligation to him. Durian hadn’t been hungry when the stewardess had passed by with her tray a mere ten minutes ago.