Page 46 of Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1)

ANGELO

“ Y ou have it?”

“Yeah.” Romeo nods, his face barely visible beneath his hood. “Sending it your way now.”

The incoming attachment arrives a second later, and I pull up the communication log between Carlo and Matteo.

“And Maurizio?” I ask my brother.

“Counting down the seconds until your arrival,” Romeo grunts. “He thinks you’ll be the sane one.”

“Pass along my regards and send me a picture.”

I need somewhere to direct my rage, and right now, he’s as good a target as any.

“I’ll get it to you later tonight,” Romeo says.

I notice a flash of city lights behind him as he moves, and it captures my attention. Romeo doesn’t leave the island often—or at least, he never used to. Not since my father brought him home and told him to stay put.

After his lightning strike and subsequent cardiac arrest, Romeo came back a different person.

He was emotionally volatile, had little impulse control, and was prone to violent outbursts.

He had a laundry list of other problems, too —including chronic pain, migraines, insomnia, and memory issues.

He went through years of intense treatments as our father exhausted every medical intervention at his disposal.

Some things leveled out, but others never would.

When the doctors told my father they’d done everything they could, he brought Romeo back to the sanctuary of the island.

He carved out a life for himself there and settled into a routine.

Romeo 2.0 was reclusive, surly, and socially awkward.

When his brain rewired, he also developed an obsessive focus and heightened pattern recognition.

He spent a lot of time in a dark room, learning how to hack anything and everything.

When he wasn’t doing that, our father gave him an outlet for his rage.

He set up shop in the woodshed, and he’s been liquidating our liabilities ever since.

Strangely enough, all that murder and torture seemed to help.

It did more for him than the treatments ever could.

Over the years, he’s learned to live with the chaos in his mind. He’s never wanted much else, and it’s not like him to venture out of his comfort zone without a good reason. So I have to wonder why he’s doing it now.

“Where are you?” I ask him.

“Nowhere important.” Another grunt. “You need anything else?”

Laughter echoes from behind him, and it sets me on edge. He’s not going to tell me what he’s up to, but it’s my job to know—for all our sakes.

“That’s all for now,” I tell him.

In typical Romeo fashion, he nods and disconnects the call without a goodbye. I stare at the phone for a beat, then text Nicky. A minute later, he’s in my office.

“Yeah, boss?”

“I need eyes on Romeo back in Seattle. Can you send it down the pipeline?”

“On it.” He jerks his chin. “Anything particular we’re looking for?”

“I want to know where he’s going when he leaves the island. You got anyone else that can track what he’s doing on his computer?”

“Not as good as him.” Nicky shrugs. “But I’ll see what I can find.”

I nod, letting him linger for a moment before I ask my next question.

“My wife?”

“She’s in your suite,” he says.

I spin my wedding band around my finger. “And her day in Saint Tropez?”

“She spent the morning at the beach club reading a book. Then she wanted to come back to the yacht.”

“No interactions with anyone?”

He shakes his head, and irritation claws beneath my skin.

Over the past three days, I’ve gone back over her call logs, text messages, and all of her online activity.

There’s not a single indication of what she might be hiding.

The fact that she’d rather die than admit it doesn’t bode well for our future.

I’ve seen grown men sob like babies with guns to their heads. But my wife? She comes all over my cock. Go fucking figure.

If she were anyone else, I would have put her in the ground a long time ago. But to my eternal frustration, the thought of her gone forever presses against my ribs and crushes the air from my lungs. There’s no question that I despise her. But I want to despise her from close range.

It’s a weakness I can’t afford. Especially right now.

In two days, we’ll be back in the thick of it when we arrive in Seattle. There will be other men like Carlo Pagnotto who think they can test me when it comes to her. On principle, I’ll have to murder every last one of them. I have Abella to thank for that headache.

Carlo was marked for death regardless, and he knew it.

But I wanted to toy with him a little—bat him around like a cat with a mouse before the kill.

I wanted him to wonder if every drink or cigar might be his last. Biding my time meant he’d have to think about all the ways he might suffer. But the motherfucker Uno reversed me.

Bleeding out on my floor within minutes is not what I’d consider a painful death. So I guess he got one over on me in the end. The asshole is probably laughing at me from hell.

“Need anything else, boss?” Nicky asks.

I tap my pen against a pad of paper, considering what other mundane questions I could ask him about Abella. Then I shake myself out of it.

“No. That’s it for now.”

He takes his leave, and my phone buzzes against the desk. When I see a message from Ares, I know my mood isn’t likely to improve anytime soon. He’s made it his life’s mission to keep this rivalry between our families alive. Ironic, considering I’m the gatekeeper to the one thing he wants most.

I open the text and glare at his message.

Hope the honeymoon is treating you well, old friend. We’re all dying to know the verdict. Did you break Abella in, or did your brother have that honor?

I type out a reply, followed by six middle finger emojis.

Keep my wife’s name out of your mouth, or you’ll need a referral to an oral surgeon.

When he doesn’t respond, I send another text.

P.S. Fuck you and your mother.

A few seconds later, he replies. What did my mother ever do?

She should have swallowed.