Page 123 of Villainous Kingpin

I barged into her room without knocking. My eyes wandered from the empty bed toward the wall, the balcony, then bathroom. She wasn’t here.

I rushed out of there and roared, “Wynter!”

If she ran off, I’d lock her in next time. There’d be no freedom roaming the house. I was back in Emory’s office, the three of them in the same spot where I left them with serious expression on their faces.

If they’d let her go behind my back, I’d crush their throats. Teach them a lesson, they’d never forget.

“Where is Wynter?” I bellowed, out of my goddamn mind. She wasn’t in her bedroom. Not in the bathroom. Nowhere.

“She’s in the basement gym,” Emory answered, eyeing me suspiciously. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Ignoring her, I rushed out of the room and almost plowed into her guard.

With each step I took closer to the basement gym, the music grew louder. I opened the door and the bass speakers almost shook the walls how loud she had it turned up. She’d be able to wake up the dead with this kind of music. Some kind of angry version of Lady Gaga’s “Paparazzi” song but screamed by a dude.

Wynter ran steadily on a treadmill, oblivious that anyone else was in the room. Blood rushed into my cock, watching her gorgeous body in a sports bra and skin-tight shorts that barely covered her ass. And fuck, she had a nice ass.

My cousins better stay the fuck away from here. I’d gouge their eyes out if they even look her way.

I caught her reaching for her ear, but her hand faltered and I realized she was used to having headphones in. I recalled she told me once that she liked to put headphones on and not hear anything, including her thoughts. It helped her concentrate.

I pulled up my phone and shot a message to Priest to get me Apple AirPods, every version and model and a new Apple burner phone. Then I leaned against the door and just watched her.

Probably made me some kind of psychotic stalker but the sight soothed me. As long as I knew where she was, I could breathe.

“She has some endurance.” Emory’s voice came from behind me and I stiffened. Fuck, I didn’t even hear her approach me. I couldn’t be oblivious to my surroundings, particularly with Wynter under my protection.

“She’s an Olympic, two-time, gold medalist, what do you expect?” Dante almost sounded impressed.

“Do you two have to be everywhere I am?” I grumbled. “And for fuck’s sake, Dante, stop looking at her.”

“I just can’t help myself,” Dante snickered. “She might prefer me to my cousin.”

A growl climbed up my throat. “Dante,” I warned before he said more stupid words.

“Yeah, you two will be lucky not to get shot by her uncle or one of those Russians she uses as bodyguards.” The world had gone to hell in a handbasket if my sister was the only one that had some common sense left.

“What the fuck is wrong with Priest?” I asked them, instead of commenting on my sister’s sound observation.

A fleeting glance the two shared didn’t escape me. “What?” I demanded to know, my eyes glued to Wynter’s form.

“He needs some time to come to terms,” my sister said quietly.

“With?”

“He tested his DNA against hers.” Dante didn’t look pleased.

“And?”

“Priest and Wynter share the same mother.”

CHAPTER49

Wynter

Istepped off the treadmill, my breathing heavy. I had been at it for the past hour and a half. But it felt good. The stress reliever I needed, despite the little sleep I had.

Striding to the stereo, I turned off the music and turned around to find three pairs of eyes on me. I halted for a second, unsure why they were there. The look on their faces was grim and Dante glared at me accusingly.