Page 14 of Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1)

ANGELO

T he church bursts into chaos as I lift the limp body of my traitorous ex-fiancée into my arms. All at once, everyone in the room rushes toward us, but Natalia and Alessio form a blockade in front of me. Hushed voices ripple through the crowd before one person asks if we need a doctor.

Meanwhile, Natalia fusses over Abella, fanning her face with her hands.

Beside her, Alessio tosses me a questioning glance—probably wondering why I bothered to catch her at all.

Before he can offer such a smart-ass observation, Abella stirs, blinking several times as she glances around in confusion.

“What—”

The question dies on her lips when she looks up at me.

Yes, Abella. I’m what happened.

A sliver of vulnerability flashes in those pale green eyes that still carry too many secrets. The reaction is predictably on brand for the little liar, but it only leaves me with lingering questions.

Despite my wish to the contrary, our years apart have been good to her.

She’s healthy, still haloed by that honeyed warmth that looks like she’s been kissed by the sun.

Her features remain the same—long, dark lashes, high cheekbones, full lips, and impossibly smooth skin unblemished by time or hardship.

Her body has filled out, softening at the edges and developing the kind of generous curves women shell out six figures to recreate. She has a small waist, well-rounded hips, and an ass and tits that look like they were sculpted by Luo Li Rong.

I’d once foolishly compared her beauty to the works of the finest sculptors. At the time, I’d imagined Rong’s Forgotten Melody . Now, when I look at her, I can’t help but envision Cellini’s rendition of Perseus wielding the head of Medusa.

If I were smart, I’d toss her onto a church pew and never look at her again.

The resentment I’ve harbored for her these past six years has been my constant companion, and as tempting as she might be, she’s still poison.

Her eyes are the window to a thousand different memories, but the most potent is one that left a bitter aftertaste I can’t wash away.

Natalia signs something to Abella, and Abella shakes her head, signing the words as she speaks them. “I’m okay. I just…need a moment.”

“Make way.” A sharp voice cuts through the crowd, and when I glance up, Abella’s dumbass guard, Tony Caruso, is bulldozing his way through the onlookers.

I can’t help but question what Abella’s father was thinking by hiring him.

He looks like the pipsqueak the other guards would bring around if it were Take Your Kid to Work Day.

Stunted growth and weak musculature aside, he’s also wildly ineffective at his job.

In the time it took him to get here, I could have had Abella bound, gagged, and stuffed full of my cock while she begged for a second orgasm.

“I’ll take it from here.” He cranes his neck to look up at me as he gestures for me to hand over his charge.

It’s impossible to miss the possessive spark in his eyes, and I can imagine he’s been waiting for an opportunity to present itself so he can cop a feel. I arch a brow at him, silently challenging him to try.

He’s poised to sign his own death warrant when Alessio steps in. “Tony, I don’t believe you’ve had the chance to meet Angelo Vitale yet.”

Tony’s nostrils flare at the mention of the name. “Vitale? The guest list said it was Angelo Augustine who would be in attendance.”

I stare at him like the annoying gnat he is, and the longer he waits for a response, the more he starts to squirm.

“It’s my job to protect Miss Moretti,” he clips out.

“Yes, and how’s that going for you, Tony?”

“Angelo.” Abella wriggles in my arms, and I tighten my grip.

“Nicky.” I nod at my capo, who’s been quietly watching the scene unfold. “Help Mr. Caruso to his seat.”

Tony chokes on his argument when Nicky grabs him by the arm and drags him down the aisle.

“Angelo,” Abella curses my name under her breath. “Can you please put me down? Everyone’s staring.”

“What’s the matter?” I unceremoniously dump her onto an empty seat. “Afraid it might get back to your fiancé?”

Her cheeks flush with color as she rises and smooths out her dress. “Can I please speak to you alone?”

“I can’t imagine there’s anything we need to discuss.”

“Angelo, please.” She stares up at me with eyes so full of emotion, it only serves to breathe life into the fire of my wrath.

“Please, what?” I offer her a disinterested stare.

Ignoring my question, she glances at Natalia and Alessio. “Can we take five minutes?”

Alessio, traitor that he is, nods with a smirk. The bastard is enjoying this. He orders everyone to give us some space, and the guests move to the other side of the church, where I’m certain they’re still hanging on every word that’s about to unfold.

Abella lifts her chin and crosses her arms. “Do you want to handle our business publicly or privately?”

“You and I have no business,” I answer blandly. “Soon, you’ll be married to Matteo, at which point you’ll both be exiled from the island. You’ll live out your wedded bliss in a place of your choosing, provided it’s far away from me. Apart from that, I doubt our paths will ever cross again.”

Hurt flashes across her face, which would be amusing if it weren’t for the fact that I know exactly what’s going through her mind.

My presence here is confirmation that their scheme to oust me from my rightful place as heir has failed, and she’s mourning the loss of everything she already thought was hers.

The estate, the titles, the wealth, and power.

She was set to be queen, and now she’s probably imagining herself as the duchess of a trailer park.

“When did you get out of prison?” she asks.

“I suppose that throws a wrench in your plans, doesn’t it?”

She sighs. “Does your family know you’ve been released?”

Her question grates at my already raw nerves, so I narrow the distance between us, lowering my voice to a threat that makes her shiver.

“That’s none of your concern, and if you value the beating hearts of your Moretti siblings, you’ll keep my name and presence here today out of your mouth.”

She stares up at me with wide eyes. “But your father?—”

“It’s not your business,” I repeat.

She stiffens, and before she can stop it, a tear leaks from the corner of her eye. She quickly dashes it away and swallows the bitter realization that I’m no longer the man she played for a fool.

“I’m here for Alessio and his family, and we’ve held them up long enough,” I say. “Today will go smoothly as long as you do your job and I do mine.”

She sucks in a sharp breath and nods. “Fine.”

When she turns on her heel and walks away, my eyes are drawn to her heart-shaped ass. That dress—soft cream lace—would be the picture of innocence on anyone else. But on Abella, it hugs all her curves, taunting every man in the room.

Temptation wrapped in sin.

I scrub a hand over my face and shake my head.

“See something interesting?” Alessio approaches me, and I have half a notion to punch that smug expression right off his face.

“Like your wife?” I throw Natalia a wink to piss him off.

He impales me with a glare. “Do I need to remind you I know a thousand different ways to torture you to death?”

Our verbal sparring match ends in a ceasefire when his wife approaches, her delicate features pinched in concern.

Natalia’s eyes move over my face briefly before she turns to her husband and signs a question.

I don’t know ASL, but it isn’t difficult to guess what she’s asking.

She wants to know why she’s only just now finding out I have a different last name than the one she’s known me by.

Since Natalia is still relatively new to this world, she isn’t aware of my background. But the cat’s out of the bag now.

“I’ll explain later,” Alessio tells her.

She shakes her head and retrieves her phone, using her text-to-speech app to loop me in on the conversation.

“I need to know who the godfather of my child is before we go through with this. He’s been lying about his last name. What else don’t I know?”

I have to give the woman credit. Despite her small stature, Natalia has a backbone of steel. She isn’t afraid to go to war for her beliefs, even if it means standing toe to toe with the Cosa Nostra . I admire her for that.

Alessio glances at me, and I nod at his silent question, indicating he can answer.

“Angelo was imprisoned by IVI for a crime he didn’t commit.

” Alessio signs the words as he speaks them.

“While he was working with the Tribunal to clear his name, several attempts were made on his life. The Tribunal relocated him while they investigated, and eventually released him once enough evidence was brought forward. Only a few of us knew he was free, and he’s been using the name Augustine to keep it under wraps until his case was resolved. ”

Natalia turns to me and types out another question. “Has it been resolved?”

“Soon,” I assure her.

The dark promise in my tone seems to quell any lingering fears she has about my connection to her family, and she offers me a nod before she signs to her husband.

“Yes.” He kisses her on the forehead. “Let’s get this baby baptized.”

The ceremony is a small, private affair with only Alessio and Natalia’s most trusted guests. Abella and I join the happy parents as they present Madalena, and after some questions, scriptural readings, and prayers, the baptism is performed.

Afterward, a reception takes place in the downtown Seattle IVI compound, where lunch will be served. Madalena is passed to Abella while their son, Nino, is left in my care, so the parents can thank their guests for attending.

Tension lingers between us as Abella watches me interact with Nino. There’s something in her gaze as it drifts to the boy’s small hand in mine, but before I can identify it, she focuses her attention on the baby and leaves it there for the remainder of the afternoon.

An unwelcome feeling settles in my gut as I watch her cart the little girl around the room, smiling and playing with her as naturally as the sun rises.

There was a time when she was the only mother I could imagine for my future children.

Seeing her this way triggers an unwanted image of her swollen with my child .

That’s a dangerous thought—one I’ve indulged far too many times.

It’s a curse, not a fantasy, but nevertheless, my cock stirs, and irritation winds its way through my muscles.

Fuck.

I glare at her, and she shoots me a questioning glance. I need to release some pent-up energy, and when Alessio returns to take Nino off my hands, I know exactly how I’m going to do it.

“Where are you going?” my cousin asks.

“Don’t worry about it.” I wave off his concern and grab two plates from one of the tables, carrying them to the back of the room where Nicky’s babysitting Abella’s guard.

“Here.” I slide a plate to each of them and take a seat next to Tony.

“I’m not here to eat.” He shoves the plate away. “I’m here to watch Abella.”

“I think you and I got off on the wrong foot.” I lean back in my chair and follow his gaze to the woman in question.

He grunts in response, and a beat of silence passes as I watch him watch her. He doesn’t know our history. That’s the only logical explanation for how fucking blatantly he’s ogling her right now.

“Have you had a taste of that yet?” I ask.

“No.” He stiffens. “She’s a job. I keep things professional.”

“But you want to.” I toss him a lazy smile. “C’mon, you think I don’t recognize that look in your eyes? We’re all men here. You can admit it.”

He shifts in his seat and shrugs. “She’s a very beautiful woman. I won’t complain about being paid to stare at her all day.”

Nicky arches a brow at me in question, wondering where I’m going with this. He knows me well enough to understand this isn’t leading to the Kumbaya Tony thinks it is.

Abella bends down to adjust her heel, and Tony can’t peel his eyes away from her. Heat licks along my spine, and my voice drops an octave at my next question.

“Tits or ass. Which would you go for first?”

Tony pretends to consider the question, as if he hasn’t thought about this every night when he’s jerking himself off. I’m not sure what’s more pathetic, his panting like a dog or the micro-boner in his pants.

“With a pair of tits like those, it’s no question.” He licks his lips. “I can’t tell if they’re all natural.”

“I can assure you they are.” My eyes blaze as I slide the brass knuckles in my pocket over my fingers.

He turns to look at me, his eyes flaring a split second before I throat punch him and knock him off his seat. His body hits the floor with a thud, and he wheezes as he tries to suck in a breath—an effort I squash when I kneel on his neck.

Nicky rises from his seat, keeping an eye on the crowd as Tony claws at my leg, his limbs flopping around like a fish out of water. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t put up much of a fight, and as the light drains from his eyes, I lean down to whisper in his ear.

“In the next life, learn when to shut the fuck up.”

Tony falls limp beneath me, and I smash his face in, cursing him in Italian.

“I think you got him, boss,” Nicky says. “What do you want me to do with this one?”

I rise and crack my neck before I scan the crowd. “Any wayward eyes?”

Nicky shakes his head.

“Good.” I smooth out my suit. “Put him in the backseat of Abella’s car.”