Page 23 of Taint My Soul

Nothing matters more than my family. Not my emotions or desires. Not my needs.

I’m standing close to the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, wineglass in hand. The city hums beneath the white and gold lights of the heavy night traffic whilst pedestrians tread on the sidewalks, some on their way home after a long day at work, others stalking places where they shouldn’t be at.

My apartment reeks of intense silence.

A part of me wants to pick up my phone and dial Madame’s number to ask her to send Mason into the suite, but I don’t let the thoughts turn into action.

I know who I am.

The things I want.

And I can’t let myself need something that could destroy everything I have worked for.

I finish my wine and stalk back into the dimly lit living room to pour myself another drink, yet Mason still lingers in my mind.

The more I try to push him away, the more he persists.

I have to remind myself that this is only a contract.

And there’s nothing happening between us. I won’t let it. We are just having sex. I call him whenever I want, and I take what I want from him. That’s it. That’s all it’ll ever be.

My phone rings in the living room, and I walk toward the buzzing sound, picking it up from the leather couch. “Hello.” I say, and my brother’s voice crackles through the speaker.

“You need to come by the warehouse at the docks.”

“Is there a problem?” I ask and gulp down my wine. I hurry upstairs, taking the winding staircase to change into something different.

“Just get here, Saint.” He says before he hangs up.

I send my driver a text when I’m done and head down to the underground parking lot. He’s leaning against the hood of the vehicle when I appear through the elevator. He moves to the car door and holds it open for me. I get in, and he circles the back to the driver’s seat, turning on the engine. “Where to, sir?”

“The docks.”

“Alright, sir.” He steps on the gas and follows the driveway into the busy city.

The thought of Mason muffles the hum of the engine and the distant traffic. I have never let my guard down, and I won’t. No matter how appealing it might be.

“Sir, we are here.” My valet, Bernard, looks at me from the rearview mirror. I nod only once and get off. The air’s heavy with brine and diesel, and something faintly rotten underneath. I stalk toward the entrance of the warehouse, where my immediate younger brother waits for me.

Virgil stands there, tall, big, and mighty, long locs of hair cascading down his shoulders, a vicious smirk on his lips as his gaze meets mine. White bandages wrap around his chest, with a dent of red staining close to the shoulder blade.

“What happened to you?”

“I got stabbed, but that’s not important.” Virgil King has been trained to be the enforcer of the family. The ruthless executioner. He had learned how to protect what belongs to our family from a very young age. “I have two pieces of bad news.” He grunts and turns toward the entrance.

“Tell me.” My face steels with something dark.

Virgil sighs and looks at me, hands in pocket. “Some degenerates tried to burn down one of our business fronts last night. Cross caught them on camera. A bunch of teenagers. We know their faces, but we haven’t apprehended them yet.”

“What’s taking so long?” My jaw locks, and my face goes still.

“We are working on it, brother.” He explains.

“What’s the other news?” I grunt.

“One of our shipments got ambushed before it left the docks.”

“And the culprits?” My jaw clenches hard. Whoever taught it was wise to walk into my territory and strategize an attack made the wrong move. And they’d bear the consequences of their stupid actions.