Page 27 of Vicious Kingdom

I counted myself lucky. I had what I came here to get. The prize was mine. More snapshots of her, the beautiful socialite, always pretending she was untouchable. But I’d caught her on camera. Drunk. Dancing on another woman and looking reckless as she was about to kiss someone—my own face was conveniently absent from the frame.

The best part? I told her I wanted to do this from the moment I saw her. She no doubt thought I meant to kiss her. When in reality, I meant break her—pay her back in kind for all the sins she committed without feeling, without remorse. She needed to know the cost of betrayal. This was just the beginning.

The fact that the kiss nearly did me in? Weakness. I was a man after all, susceptible to her spells. I had to overcome that.If I was going to survive against her indomitable spirit, I had to remain strong. A moment’s vulnerability could ruin everything. She was a dangerous woman to be around. Her kind killed the men they loved. It was death to feel affection for her. Even hate was dangerous. That could burn. At least until the final move was mine and she was crushed, I would keep my guard in place.

The club throbbed around me, all shadows and spinning lights as I pushed through the crowd. The stink of money and desperation hung in the air, sweet as poison. They all thought they were invincible. I knew better. Her friends, laughing, clueless, oblivious, enveloped her as I slipped past. I was a ghost, invisible, gone before she even realized.

I strode into the night, using a back exit unfrequented by party hoppers.

Only to come upon a terrible scene. Isabella Moretti, the black widow, was trapped. Her guards stood at attention, but a half-dozen burly men surrounded her. A business deal on the brink of detonation. She was likely trying to negotiate a better fee structure with this distributor, and by the looks of it, things had gone from bad to worse.

“Just say yes, baby,” Marcus Servizzio coaxed.

“May the devil take you!” the queen of night hissed.

I could walk away. I was a civilian by day.

But the call of blood promised to sate the terrible storm in my veins.

I stepped forward. “Problem?”

Servizzio, a scumbag who ran a small operation on the outskirts of the city, glared at me. “None of your business, mister.”

Isabella’s eyes widened slightly, no doubt recognizing me as the powerful CEO. Little did she know we were alike, both children of the underworld. She’d been married to a powerfuldon, a rival that my brother murdered with a simple move of malice and deceit.

Not that many believed the rumors that someone like Vincent Moretti would be stupid enough to drink wine poisoned by his enemy. They chalked his death up to a heart attack.

“I have business to discuss with Mrs. Moretti,” I said coolly.

“So do I,” Servizzio spat.

His hand moved to his hip, where I knew a gun would be holstered. Isabella’s men tensed, ready to protect their queen, but were outnumbered.

“The lady said no,” I growled, stepping closer.

“Walk away while you still can, pretty boy,” Servizzio warned.

Just a bit farther.I took another step, curling my fingers and beckoning the scum to come out from behind his guards.

The man was an idiot.

Servizzio advanced. His lip curled. “Who the fuck do you think—”

I didn’t let him finish. My fist connected with his jaw, the satisfying crunch of bone against knuckle igniting something primal within me. The violence felt like coming home, like the truth of who I really was beneath the expensive suit and corporate façade.

“Kill this motherfucker!” Servizzio screamed, blood spraying from his split lip.

Two men charged me at once. I ducked under the first swing, driving my fist into a soft gut, feeling ribs give way beneath my knuckles. The second man caught me with a glancing blow.

“Leonard!” Isabella called out, but I was already lost to the frenzy.

The tension crackled like electricity in the night air. One of Servizzio’s men made the mistake of grabbing Isabella’s arm, and that was all it took.

Chaos erupted. Isabella’s guards surged forward as Servizzio’s men descended.

The brute who’d clipped me advanced. Right before he swung at my head, I noticed the brass knuckles. I ducked, driving my shoulder into his sternum, feeling ribs give way.

But when I grabbed for his shirt, ready to hold him tight and rain blows on his skull, my skewered hand screamed in protest.