Page 11 of Brutal Heir

My throat constricted.

I could practically feel Sebastian's hand around my throat as he watched my exchange with Mark

“Diamonds are a dangerous business. Are you listening to me, Sabrina?”

Missing the warmth of Sebastian’s coat, I shivered and ran my hands over my upper arms. “Yeah, sure,” I answered noncommittally.

I refused to admit that Mark’s warning echoed my own suspicions.

I was too distracted staring at the man who looked like he wanted to rip Mark’s head off and use it for a soccer ball.

Just then, Mark stretched out his arm to bring me closer under his jacket.

Instinctively, I jerked backward out of his reach, while I resisted the urge to look again at Sebastian, somehow already knowing he wouldn’t be happy about Mark touching me.

Which is crazy, right?

He was just a stranger I’d bumped into on the street.

Nothing more.

Mark cut into my thoughts. “Are you going to see him again?”

I snatched the card back and frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. What would a man like that want with a girl like me?”

CHAPTER 5

SEBASTIAN

The weight of the gun strapped to my side reminded me how easy it would be to just kill the bastard and be done with it.

But this was Paris—not Rome.

Getting rid of the body would be a pain in the ass.

"No one touches what's mine," I said quietly, my voice barely louder than the rain pattering against the pavement.

“If you’re thinking of killing him, remember, it’s Paris—it’ll be a bitch dealing with the body.”

I didn’t glance at Rafaello, who had just joined me.

My lips curved into a faint smirk. “My thoughts exactly. Doesn’t mean I’m not still considering it. Find out who he is.”

None of my investigation reports had mentioned a boyfriend—not that it would’ve mattered.

So who the fuck was that guy?

Rafaello pulled out his sterling silver cigarette case, flipping it open with a snap while his eyes scanned the street with the thoroughness of a bored assassin, then offered me one.

I shook my head, distracted by a man lingering under a nearby awning.

There was something off about his stance and the way he stared at the door Sabrina had just walked through.

Shrugging, Rafaello selected a hand-rolled cigarette and snapped the case shut before reaching into his coat pocket for a lighter.

After he took a long drag, he gestured with his cigarette. “Not to be judgmental, brother. But she didn’t exactly fall at your feet.”

I turned and yanked the passenger door open. “Fuck off.”