Page 125 of The Beast Who Begged Me

“And to whom do you answer?” Caligula asks.

King hesitates. Then he gives us a name in Moscow, followed by an explanation of the man’s financial interest in his businesses. Caligula listens, asks about the brothels in Brighton Beach, the sports betting business, the money laundering—everything Ricky Benedetti went over.

“How much of each business do you control?” Caligula asks. “Be specific.”

Fontana takes notes, checking answers against what he already knows. Wherever Luca D’Amato gets his intel, it’s strong. When something doesn’t fit, Caligula makes King go over it again.

“And the cartel?” Caligula asks.

King’s mouth tightens. “There were discussions. Nothing came of them.”

Caligula makes King name the men he sent after Sammy, too. King calls Nino’s murder “necessary,” and Caligula’s mouth curls in contempt when he does.

We hear about smuggling routes, collectors, payments. And the dirty details about the very worst of it: the human trafficking. King talks about people being shipped between properties, held in cells, sold between different Bratva factions. He uses the same tone he used to discuss the betting business.

I stand there and let it sink in. I was a member of the Obelisk. I’d never attended one of those auctions before the night Caligula was sold, but I knew about them. My membership fees helped pay for it all.

Seb Conti once asked me why the hell I went there, and I shrugged it off. The truth was, I thought I deserved to be there. Among the worst of the worst.

Now I find I was right.

But…Caligula Clemenza loves me anyway.

He kept saying it in the car. I wanted to answer him. It felt like the simplest thing in the world until I tried.

But it seems I’m still a coward after all, because the words just wouldn’t come out.

A phone buzzes, and Fontana glances down at his screen. “It’s Vitali. Sammy’s shoulder’s set. Jesse Foster’s awake. Concussed, but apparently he’s already charmed the nurses.”

“I bet you’re relieved to hear that, huh, King?” I say. “Your favorite. He’s okay.”

“I am, of course, greatly relieved.” His tongue moves over his lower lip. “I never wished Jesse any lasting harm.”

“He was under the impression you were just teaching him a lesson,” Caligula says. “Do you think he’s learned it?”

King looks at the floor between them. Caligula waits, but there’s no response.

“The fighting pits and whatever else is going on out there,” Fontana says. “Yours?”

“God, no.” King sounds almost offended. “The pits belong to Yevgeny Chekalov. I merely provide him with a better class of gambler. The kind of man who isn’t satisfied by even the grandest excesses of the Obelisk.”

“Like my cousin, Tiberius Vicario?”

I turn toward Caligula. “He was there?”

“In King’s box.” He keeps his attention on the man in the chair. “Tell me about your relationship with him.”

“Your cousin has been a member of the Obelisk for years. He’s not often in New York, but when he visits, I make sure he’s well looked after.” He pauses and then adds, “Tiberius enjoys things other men don’t.”

“So you invited him to watch me die.”

“I invited him to an event I believed he would appreciate.”

Caligula regards him for a moment. “I see.”

King’s politeness never cracks, which annoys the hell out of me. I want one piece of the real monster to crawl out from behind the mask, but he never gives it to me.

He’s not going to talk himself out of this warehouse, though. He just doesn’t see it yet.