Page 5 of The Spare (The King Dynasty #2)

"…… So my brother was correct. I'm not to be in the mafia, but I'm in with you?" I huff out a laugh, treating him to a disdainful look. "I thought you lied to him, wheedled him down enough to get me here so you could offer me a real position."

"What the hell gave you the impression it's not a real position?" he asks coldly, arching a brow .

I arch mine back, not intimidated. "Is it?"

"This is a real position, and one I take just as serious as if you were in with me." His brows raise. "I'd never lie to a King, Mason."

I snort on a humorless laugh, glancing to the side in amusement. "I didn't realize our influence ran quite this deep, to be honest."

"I wouldn't admit that outside of these walls," he says in a serious tone, bringing my eyes back to his.

"Hmm…" I hum, because honestly I could care less about the King Dynasty influence. I never abused its power, or really used its influence one way or another. That would call for a very rare occasion. But I guess for Hendrix's sake I'll maintain the front we're a perfect family.

Even if Luca knows we aren't.

"So, what? Am I not good enough to be in your ranks?" I drawl, feeling a touch put out honestly.

He chuckles, his face lighting up with humor.

"Quite the contrary. I want you within my ranks very much.

I think you're clever, smart, articulate, capable.

Trilingual-which seems to be asking a lot, these days for some reason," he says sarcastically, flipping his pen again.

"But your brother's wrath is-" he looks to the side and whistles.

"Actually, it's not so much your brother, honestly.

It's the pesky little fact that he's got Frank Jackson on his side. "

I fold my arms, vaguely remembering Frank as the man who handled Isobel's father's execution. "And why are you waxing poetic about him?"

He points the pen at me, lowering his brow.

"The man is a beast. Slippery as an eel and stealthy as they come.

He's managed to evade mafia, cartel, and governments all over the world.

He's lethal. And we all in the underworld know not to get on that man's bad side.

So, no. If your brother asks me to not invite you in, then I'll respect that.

But, to make myself crystal clear, Hendrix King is about the only man in the entire world who gets that privilege. "

My eyes snap to his, and I tilt my head as he continues to watch me quietly.

"But if you want in, all you gotta do is ask," he smiles, making me shake my head.

It's like the carrot is to be forever dangled in front of me, but I'll never be able to attain it for anything. There was a time I'd salivate for this opportunity. Cut off my left arm to have an in like this. But now?

Now it comes with a heap more risks than it did before, because I don't want Melody hurt, and I don't want her close to this.

I sigh heavily, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my fingers. "I don't get it. All those years my brother fought like hell to keep me away from the mafia, and look, he seemingly has no problem just laying me at your front door like it's nothing."

Lucien’s eyes glitter in the firelight as he just stares at me, not offering any input one way or another.

Clearing my throat, I switch tactics. Wanting a taste of his inner mind. "Why me?" I ask roughly. "Why not deal with King, hm? He's the golden boy, not me."

"Ahhh." Lucien shakes his head on a rather long suffering exhalation of air.

"Golden boy. Do you hear that, Blane?" he says disdainfully, throwing a look to the guard behind him who just stares stoically ahead.

When he turns his gaze back to me, a wicked smile curves his lips, and he half scoffs, waving a hand dismissively.

"I didn't want the golden boy. Everyone always underestimates the spare.

And in my experience, with spares in particular, there's always a wealth of talents overlaying the abyss of a stifled persona which isn't usually tapped into. "

My brow raises. "Well, damn," I say. "You're a right poet, Mr. Scognamiglio. Who'd have thought?"

He chuckles. "Call me Luca. If I have to hear you butcher my last name again I might shoot you. I think I'd suffer the wrath of your brother."

I laugh. "Sure. Luca. Well, I hate to have to tell you that I will be declining your offer."

I contemplate for a few, drawn out moments. However, despite the great temptation, I couldn't haul Melody into this lifestyle. I just couldn't.

No dice.

His next words almost make me get shot, for real.

"Okay," Luca says in a hard, matter-of-fact tone and turning his attention back to his paperwork in a dismissive move that sets my blood on fire. "Well, tell Hendrix I'll be coming to collect Melody, then. He needs to have her ready for me by no later than Tuesday next week."

He grabs his pen and begins to sign the stack of papers to his right.

The laughter dies on my tongue as my blood pressure skyrockets.

"The fuck you are!" I say in a nasty tone, uncaring of his status, or the way the two armed men behind him tighten and train their gazes on me. "You lay a hand on Melody, and I'll kill you myself."

Luca's head snaps up, furrowing his brow as a disbelieving look crosses his face so fast I barely see it.

He holds a hand up to halt Blane when he takes a step forward, but his advance doesn't phase me.

Luca needs to understand I'm not playing around.

He wants me in his mafia so bad, he's going to need to understand a few important facts about me: one being, I don't play about Melody.

Period, point blank .

"You mean, your precious brother didn't tell you?" he asks slowly, his gaze turning curious as he, again, sees way too much.

Father would murder me himself if he saw what was going on right this very second and how I'm challenging California's most notoriously dangerous, and lethal, crime boss.

"Tell me what?" I growl, leaning forward in my seat.

His men take another step forward, but I couldn't care less.

My eyes stay trained on the ruthless Don in front of me who meets my stare with a calm confidence that would probably terrify any other normal person.

However, ruthless or not, I'll go toe-to-toe with him over what's mine any day of the week.

"That it was either you or Melody. He instinctively picked the woman's side and offered you up instead." He smiles. "Just like a fucking heir would."

Yup. By his words, he's already clocked the discontent between Hendrix and I somehow, making my lips tighten.

Suddenly the door bursts open, causing me to half turn in my chair to look over my shoulder to see what's going on. A petite brunette Italian woman comes through, looking distressed.

"What do you mean you're marrying me off?!" she cries. She stumbles as she strides to the desk, forcing me to shoot out a hand and quickly grab her arm so she doesn't fall. Her arms flail as she tries to catch herself on the back of the chair, not even sparing me a glance.

A man comes in behind her, looking like he's getting ready to pull her back; however, Luca just gives him a tiny head shake and a dismissive flick of his fingers.

He steps back, adopting a watchful stance against the wall.

My eyes go back to hers, seeing her eyes unnaturally dilated, and she's squinting.

She must be on one hell of a drug. The bandaid in the crook of her arm is telling .

"Amelia," Luca says in a soft voice, causing my eyes to raise with how tender he is with her. "Calm down. Where's your glasses my love?"

"You know I don't like to wear them!" she says in a distressed tone.

Luca keeps his voice calm. "Amelia, you know after your appointments-"

"I don't want to talk about my eyes, Luca!" she snaps. I frown. I guess I got the drug thing wrong, maybe."I want to talk about you marrying me off to the first man you can think of to get rid of me!"

"Amelia, you have to, sweetheart."

But she sniffs, trembling as she stands near me. "No! I don't even know this man, Luca!"

Her hand trembles as she brings it up to wipe her eyes again. I avert my face, not wanting to embarrass her by overtly staring.

He sighs, looking weary. "His name's Joaquin Balducci-"

"I don't care what his name is!" she cries, holding her arms folded across her stomach timidly. Her big eyes swim with tears. "How can you do this? How can you send me away knowing what I'm going through?"

He stands up, walking around the desk and turns her gently, tucking her under his arm and slowly walking her back out the way she came.

Her hand skims the wall as they walk, letting me know that she's having pretty bad issues with her eyes.

The security guy follows her, and the room falls silent.

Leaving me and the two security guards still standing against the wall on the other side of Lucien's desk.

After a few minutes, he walks back in, tugging his suit jacket back and smoothing a hand down it as if he's in a desperate bid to pull himself back together.

It's in this moment I feel for him; the human piece of me sympathizing with the human piece of him.

But, I can't forgive his comment about Melody.

My eyes narrow . "No," I say simply .

"No to what?" he tilts his head as he sits, keeping his brown-eyed gaze steady on mine.

Ignoring his question, I narrow my eyes. "Why do you want Melody?" I begin to sweat as my neck heats up.

His smile turns into something a bit sadistic.

He shrugs a shoulder, sitting back in his seat.

"What can I say? Didn't I just tell you I have this thing about spares?

" As I stare blankly at him, understanding lights his eyes.

"Ohhhh," he hums, twirling his pen in an impressive, practiced movement and points it at me. "You want the girl."

My throat convulses on a swallow, and I fight to snatch the pen from him and shove it in his eye.

"Am I right?"

I stay silent, not sure how much to divulge here.

He leans forward, putting his hands together and bracing his elbows on the desktop.

"Tell you what, you can do all your advising from New York, and there's no need for you to be heavily involved in the criminal side of things.

I just need you to oversee my businesses and financial networking in the civilian world.

" His eyes roam my face. "This way, the girl doesn't have to be involved either.

If you say yes," he adds, sitting back in his seat.

"However, if I take Melody, she becomes a mafia queen.

She'll bear my heirs, and be heavily tied into the crime world.

Forever a target. And by the look on your face, I don't see that going over too well with you. "

My lips tighten. I literally didn't go into this life because I wanted to spare Melody that risk. I can't do it.

I have to accept his offer. Which is why I'm sure he played it this way.

He knew, somehow.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I hold my hand out, and when he takes it, I see a circular discolored scar three or four inches from the base of this thumb. Frowning, I give him a firm shake and raise my eyes to his. "Someone putting cigarettes out on you?"

Lucien looks down at his hand, getting a wry look on his face before pulling his hand away. "No, just a wound from an old friend," he says curtly.

"A man friend?" I ask, arching a brow, not believing that the Lucien Scognamiglio would let a friend wound him and then wax poetic about it later in life. I hit the nail on the head apparently, because he clears his throat and leans back into his seat.

"Woman," he says dismissively, raising a brow. "You're dismissed, Mason."

I bite the inside of my cheek. There's definitely a story there. "Okay then, boss. You or one of your men will need to give me a listing of what you expect me to get started on. I can't promise the numbers; as you know, stocks are a finicky thing."

"That shouldn't be too much of a problem for you," he says, giving me another smile. Except this one has a slight warning to its curve. "You've made quite the reputation as a miracle worker in the finance game, so I'm told."

I scoff, scrubbing a hand across my jaw. "Well, don't hold me to it, friend," I say in a cheeky tone.

Lucien gets a ghost of a smile on his face but doesn't answer or move to correct me. Rather, he looks amused, and instinctively I know that there's a story there, too.

I stand up, brushing my hands down my thighs. "Well, it was great meeting you, Luca."

Not even bothering asking for next steps, I turn on my heel, making my way through the door. But before I could walk through, Luca stops me. "Oh, Mason? "

I turn as he looks up from his paper with an amused grin.

"You'd make a hell of a right hand man. The way you took it in stride that I told you I wanted your woman and didn't leap across this desk at me to kill me shows strength and restraint that I could use within my inner circle. Let me know when you're ready."

Turning dismissively, I round into the hallway right as an older Italian man in his mid-fifties walks by with a set of security guards. When our eyes meet, my skin erupts in goosebumps. He looks oddly familiar, but I can't place where I've seen him before.

I shake the shiver off and keep going, sliding back in the car. The driver takes me back to the airport, and I shake my head in annoyance.

This could have been an email.