Page 52 of Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1)

ANGELO

“ T his all of it?”

I flip through the stack of printed papers with everything Romeo’s been able to dig up on the Greek Mafia during my time away.

Now that my father is gone, I anticipate that Ares and his father, Leonidas, will find a way to undermine the treaty.

I don’t expect a full-out war as long as I fulfill my obligations, but I also don’t expect Ares to let me have that victory without a fight.

History has proven as much. When it comes to Ares Stavros, there are two things I know for certain.

He’s an asshole, and this rivalry between us will never die, treaty be damned.

He'd love nothing more than to see the Vitale reign come to an end. So until I’ve secured our future with an heir, I’ll be keeping a close eye on him.

“That’s all of it.” Romeo nods.

“And you’re sure he’s only been to Abella’s office once? No other communications between them?”

An uncomfortable silence falls over the room as I glance up to find four sets of eyes on me. My brothers didn’t miss the uncertainty in my question, and I already know I won’t like their opinions on the subject.

“Come on, Angelo,” Rafe says. “I know you two are on shaky ground, but do you really think she’d conspire with Ares Stavros? It would be a death sentence for everyone she loves.”

This is the Abella effect. Even after everything, she still has my entire family under her spell. I guess I can’t blame them. Before the little liar showed me how savage she could be, she had me ensnared, too.

Things were good between us last night, but I’d be a fool to get too comfortable with her. The absence of my mother and father in our family home is a stark reminder of that. I won’t let my guard down, and I need my brothers to understand this.

“I’m not taking any chances,” I tell them. “I want to know about any communications she has with him. Is that clear enough?”

“Crystal.” Michele frowns.

“Where are we on the Maurizio situation?” I ask.

“He admitted the monthly deposits he was receiving were from Matteo,” Romeo answers. “He claims they were for services rendered.”

“Such as?”

“Helping our father move some money around and get his estate in order.”

“It’s bullshit,” Cristian says. “I’ve gone over all our accounts. There’s nothing to support those claims.”

“Give me the green light to motivate him, and I’ll do it,” Romeo grunts.

“Tonight.” I check my watch. “I want to talk to him first. You can have what’s left when I’m finished with him.”

Sensing my imminent departure, Rafe stops me before I can leave.

“One more thing.” He pins me with a look. “Now that you’re back, are you still set on murdering every man who made an offer for Abella? The Tribunal isn’t going to like it if dead bodies keep turning up.”

“Yes,” I deadpan. “The Tribunal can get fucked.”

“What’s the point?” He shrugs. “You got the girl.”

“And now I’m sending a message.”

“Which is?”

“If other men value their lives, they won’t even breathe the same air as her.”

The villa is divided into wings, including The Wolf, The Serpent, The Raven, The Nightingale, and The Fox. Each is named for the qualities of the descendent who inhabits it, so it’s no surprise that mine is The Lion.

It represents the qualities my father saw in me. Strength, leadership, power, and fearlessness. He trusted that I could secure the Vitale reign for generations to come, not only because I’m the eldest, but because he molded me for it.

From a young age, he instilled in me the traits necessary to rule. He taught me everything he knew about discipline, grit, brutality, and survival. I was ten years old the first time he killed a man in front of me. On my fourteenth birthday, it was my turn to pull the trigger.

Because I knew it would make him proud, I didn’t hesitate.

And I learned something about myself that day.

I was born for this life—not only because of the blood that runs through my veins, but because I didn’t lose a wink of sleep over what I’d done.

That night, I celebrated my birthday with my family as if it were any other day.

There have been moments in my life when I’ve questioned if there’s a line I won’t cross.

Perhaps it would have been easier for me if there weren’t.

But as I sat in a prison cell with nothing but the thought of my revenge to keep me warm, I realized, to my detriment, there is a line for me—and her name is Abella.

As I found myself imagining all the ways I could kill Matteo, there was always one glaring weakness in the plan. For all my resolve, I couldn’t even consider killing her, too.

Even when the betrayal was raw, instead of fantasizing about her death, I fantasized about fucking her until death—as punishment. Because time, distance, and other women haven’t changed one unalterable truth.

It's always been her.

I decided long ago that I’m the only one who can have her, and now that I do, it changes everything. Tonight, she’ll feel the full weight of what that means.

When I reach our suite, I find the door open and Abella standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

Her gaze is fixed on the forest outside, and she hasn’t heard my approach.

I’m torn between chastising her for not being aware of her surroundings and wondering what she’s thinking about right now.

This has always been my space, so she’s familiar with it.

After our engagement, I had her choose everything she wanted to make it more comfortable.

It’s still as she left it—charcoal walls, obsidian-stained floors, and recessed lighting.

Consistent with the Pacific Northwest, it’s dark and moody at night, and during the day, the light filters through the trees, softening everything.

It's a perfect representation of the island, or perhaps even me. I’ve often wondered if that’s what she envisioned when she made these choices. She once told me our world thrived in darkness, but that didn’t mean we shouldn’t let in the light.

I approach her silently from behind, startling her when I whisper in her ear.

“You really should be more careful. You never know when a threat might be lurking about.”

She glances up at me, making light of my remark. “Like you?”

“Not just me,” I warn her. “There will always be men stupid enough to think they could take you from me. Don’t make it easier for them.”

“We’re in your house, behind a locked gate, with an army of guards,” she argues.

“Exactly where it happened the first time,” I remind her.

She goes rigid, wisely choosing not to respond.

“Change into something you don’t mind getting dirty.” I step back, sweeping my gaze over her. “We have somewhere to be.”