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3
Leo
A dull ache flashes down the side of my left leg.
It’s a familiar pain. One that I’ve had to deal with ever since I was twelve years old. It always tends to flare up when I’m pissed off.
And right now, I’m fucking furious.
“What a fucking waste of time,” I grumble under my breath for the thousandth time since we left the house of the rising sun.
“What was that?” Ray asks, sliding back on his chair from around the corner.
“I said, what a waste of fucking time!”
“… I feel like you’ve said that before.”
“Fuck this, I’m going for a walk.”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing for the last two hours?”
My limp is worsening. When it gets like this, there’s almost no hiding my disability. Usually, I don’t bother. But right now, it’s bugging me something fierce, and I know exactly why.
Her.
“I’ve been pacing back and forth for the last two hours, getting nowhere. I’m sick of getting nowhere. I’m going out.”
“Bring back some loose women and strong booze,” Ray shouts after me as I barge out of the presidential suite we’ve made into our office for the past two days.
As if I’m going to bring back any of that shit.
First, I’m not much of a drinker. And second, ever since our disastrous meeting in the swamp earlier, I can’t think of any woman but the one who dragged me out there in the first place… and then forcefully turned me down.
Who the fuck does she think she is?
Sophia Xiphias.
The spoiled little brat. She must be lost in the past, when her father held some sort of power over my family.
Her father is long dead. Her empire is a mess.
I’m the one in charge.
The one shot she had at salvaging something was in that dusty living room, and the moment she laid eyes on me, I could tell that she wanted nothing to do with me.
… That’s never happened before.
Usually, I can’t throw women away fast enough. But the shock in Sophia’s eyes made it clear that she was looking at a monster, and not one she liked.
Fuck. She must be used to monsters by now. The mafia princess grew up around them. That Retsos fucker is clearly no saint. And Sophia’s father was the literal devil. So, what makes me so bad?
Was it my limp? My scars?
No. You hid your limp well. There were no signs that you were a fucking cripple. And your scars were lost beneath your suit.
It was something else.
And I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to sleep again if I don’t find out what.
