Page 39 of Reign of a Billionaire

Whateverthiswas, I had to contain it before it spiraled out of control.

Chapter 19

Liana

The Ghost.

Kingston Ashford was the man my mother and Perez were afraid of, one of the most lethal men in the underworld. And he aimed his attention on me. This definitely earned him some points in my book. Although, I didn’t think I’d earned any in his.

I couldn’t quite decide whether this man was watching me with disdain or admiration.

The drive to his apartment had been short. I couldn’t go back to the hotel with splashes of blood all over me, and my accomplice in eliminating Tijuana’s guards insisted I get cleaned up.

I pulled out my phone and checked in with my contact. At least one thing went well today. Nico Morrelli had all the women safely in the shelters.

Another shipment intercepted, I thought proudly.

Kingston’s car came to a stop, and I didn’t bother waiting for him to open the door. I reached for the handle, pushing it down, when a forceful impact had me falling back on my ass.

My eyes flared, fury bolting through me when dark eyes locked with mine.

“A gentleman opens the door,” he remarked, challenging me to disagree.

I remained rooted to my seat, stunned. I couldn’t remember the last time any man had tried to be a gentleman with me.

I let out an exaggerated sigh, although my insides roared with feminine appreciation for his manners.

“Then by all means,” I said, relaxing. “Lead the way.”

A heavy moment passed between us, my eyes finding his and drowning in his darkness. Why was there this familiarity to him that I couldn’t shake off?

Hesitantly, he extended his hand. I eyed it for two heartbeats before slowly sliding my fingers into his warm palm. My breath hitched at the contact and my pulse skittered like the wings of a hummingbird, my eyes glued to where our skin touched.

No disgust. No panic.

I climbed out of the car, and he slid off his suit jacket and handed it over to me.

When I shot him a dubious look, all he said was, “It’ll hide the blood.”

My mouth curved into a silent “O” with understanding. I wrapped his jacket around me, his musky vanilla scent instantly surrounding me and cocooning me into a warm and protective hold.

Taking a step away to carve some distance between us, we made our way inside the building, the doorman already at the ready. I nodded my thanks, then continued toward the elevator with sure steps, my mind on alert. Kingston Ashford moved with the grace of a panther and surveyed the area with the attention of a predator.

Once inside the lift, he reached out and pressed a code on the keypad. The elevator moved swiftly up, and in the next breath, it pinged, the steel door opening directly into the penthouse.

Kingston motioned for me to go first and, taking a deep breath, I stepped into the spacious area overlooking the city skyline. The interior was large and bare, not a single item screaminghome. It held an industrial feel, with the walls finished in various shades of gray.

He followed right behind me and the elevator doors slid closed, leaving us alone in this mysterious man’s space.

My gaze flicked over my shoulder, intent on marking any obvious danger before continuing.

I caught the reflection of the two of us in the mirror and my breath was cut short. Splatters of blood stained my face and arms even though my dress appeared intact. More likely, the black hid it all.

My cheek was bruised and my lip was swollen. In short, I was a mess. Meanwhile, he looked like he’d just come from a black-tie event—which, I reasoned, was exactly right.

“Show me where I can get cleaned up, and I’ll be out of your hair in no time,” I declared, pushing my shoulders back and looking away from our reflections.

He tilted his head, indicating a door at the far end of the hallway. “That’s a guest room. There are some spare clothes.” I wrinkled my nose at the thought of wearing someone’s sloppy seconds. “They’re new.”