Page 101 of Ruin Me With Lies

He looks affronted.“You don’t even want to check if my back’s on fire?If there’s shrapnel lodged into it?Does my well-being mean nothing to you, you cold-hearted shrew?”

What a big, whiny baby.“Please.Flames can’t hurt the devil.”

“Well, you should’ve told me that before I ruined my suit trying to protect you from it.”

That earns an irrepressible snicker from me.“Touché.”

Muttering something under his breath, too low to catch, he finally steps back.

And only then do I allow myself to breathe.Because...holy freaking butterflies.

Without missing a beat, Stefano stalks over to where the Kims are huddled, grabs the uncle by the collar, and drags him to me like a misbehaving dog.“Apologize to her.”

Kim Hwan sets his jaw, all rigid pride and stupid defiance.

Smooth as silk, Stefano draws his gun and presses the muzzle to his temple.“Apologize.Or your nephews are going to spend the rest of the night licking your blood and marrow off this sidewalk until it’s fucking spotless.”

“Ew, gross,” one brother mutters.“Hell no.I’m not doing that.”

Exasperated, the other one shushes him, then pleads, “Uncle, please, just apologize.Why do you always do this?Just apologize!”

Tired of this whole ordeal, I switch to Korean, keeping my voice cool but composed.“Mr.Kim, I don’t need an apology.But Mr.Castello doesn’t tolerate disrespect.If your pride outweighs your survival instinct, you won’t make it home to your family.”

Kim Hwan’s hardened eyes dart between his pleading nephews and the gun kissing his temple.Then, finally, they settle on me.With a jagged breath, he dips his head and apologizes to me in his native tongue.

Appeased, Stefano shoves him back with enough force to send him sprawling on the pavement.

Right on cue, Stefano’s phone rings.He answers, listens for a moment, then looks to the Kim brothers.“We have the culprit.”

“Ah, o-okay.That is…g-great.Who is it?”one brother stammers.

Stefano puts the call on speaker.

A shaky, nervous male voice floods the air, babbling like a canary in full confession mode.

The gist of it all: a college techie, strapped for cash and trolling the dark web for quick jobs, took on a high-paying gig.Normally, these jobs stay anonymous, but after getting burned a few times, the kid built backdoor traps into his correspondence, traceable fingerprints to ID the client.And this particular job came from one Park Il-Bok, located in South Korea.

As for their missing driver, he was lured away under the guise of helping with a stalled vehicle, where he was then sedated with a quick jab to the neck and dumped inside a stolen car two streets over.

When the call ends, Stefano slips the phone back into his jacket and calmly states, “The kid will be delivered to your suite.He’s your problem now.”He adjusts the cuffs of his jacket.“You brought your shit to my city, and then insulted my—” He pauses, jaw tight, glancing skyward for a breath that seems to cost him.“My respect for Mr.Kim Min is the only reason you’re leaving here with your tongue still intact.Goes without saying, I have no interest in moving forward with this deal.”He turns on his heel.“You have twenty-four hours to get the fuck out of my city.”

With that, he strides off, sharp and smooth as a blade, snapping over his shoulder, “Raya.”

I offer the Kims a respectful half-bow.“Sorry it didn’t work out.”

Then hurry after him.

There’s a charged tension in the length of his stride, a storm building in the set of his shoulders.So I hang back, giving him space to let the fire die down.He’s pissed, rightfully so, and I’ve learned enough from a lifetime of experience with prideful, powerful men to know when to keep quiet.Pride can ruin even the shrewdest of men.If I utter a single word right now, I’ll get my head bitten off and possibly even blamed for everything.

Oscar is already waiting beside the Lincoln Navigator parked up the street, but Stefano blows right past him.Oscar lifts a brow at me in question, and I respond with a helpless shrug.He must be used to this though, because he simply gets into the vehicle and begins trailing behind us.

We walk in silence.The sound of Stefano’s footsteps firm and confident, the click of my heels barely keeping up, followed by the low hum of the engine cruising behind.

About ten minutes in, he stops in his tracks.So abrupt that I almost crash into his back.

He stares straight ahead for a long moment.Then slowly, deliberately, he turns and faces me.

Impassive dark eyes rake over my face, searching.