I watched from a dark corner as she sang.
She was breathtaking. Beautiful. Long, red waves. Bright green eyes. The voice of an angel. Her energy was palpable. And she was untouchable.
Her men were everything to her. And the spare.
I studied the pair with narrowed eyes as the Archangel kept close to her side. Everyone in the Underground knew who the Archangel was. A monster created from the sins of the very man who took him in.
He just didn’t know he’d spent most of his life doing the bidding of the very same man who put him in the position he was in now.
Well, mostly.
Being neutral in our world only went so far, and money talked.
When the Ivanovs sent a messenger to my father to meet with them, he’d done so, dragging me along for the adventure.
Kill Delilah Beyers, the former mistress of Matteo De Santis. Kill her children. Kill the heir.
I was a child, still learning the ropes, but I’d seen the dark sparkle in my father’s eye that night. He saw their mistake in requesting his help, so he jumped on it.
“You want the family dead?” Father asked, surveying Sergio Ivanov and his men on the docks, the moon hanging over our heads.
“Yes. Take out the heirs. My son will handle his remaining heir at Bolten.” Sergio eyed my father.
Father looked to one of Ivanov’s men situated behind and next to him and smiled before dragging his attention back to Ivanov. I noted he focused on two in particular in the background.
“What of payment?”
“Two million dollars. Half now. Half when the job is done.”
Father nodded and was quiet for a moment. “Have you met my heir? Dante?”
Ivanov focused on me, a muscle along his jaw thrumming.
“I’ve only heard. . . things.”
“All good, I’m sure,” Father said with a soft, wicked laugh.
“Of course. He is. . . remarkable.”
“Indeed. I thought tonight would be a good night to demonstrate his skills.”
Ivanov shifted uncomfortably, his men taking steadier stances.
“How so?” he asked.
“I’m not happy with the payment. I’d like to negotiate.”
“Oh?” Ivanov cast a glance at me. I hadn’t moved an inch. I wanted to go home and hang out with Stitches. He was alone. He didn’t like to be alone.
“More money?” Ivanov gave a wobbly smile.
“No. Money isn’t an issue. What I require is. . . dinner.”
“Dinner?” Ivanov blanched, clearly understanding where the conversation was leading. “Surely, we can arrange a nice restaurant—”
“I prefer to have my chefs do my cooking.”
“I see.” Ivanov visibly swallowed. “What is it that you’d like?”
“Well, it seems as if you need this Beyers woman dealt with in order to move pieces on your board so you can come into power after assassinating Matteo De Santis. With his older brother. . . gone. . . and Carmine out of the game, you stand to win it all. I’d say two million isn’t really up to snuff for me.” Father smiled. “And if you go elsewhere now that I know your plan, you risk me telling De Santis. We both know you’ll be unlikely to kill me tonight, and it would be impossible once I walk away. So. Dinner. I require sacrifice.”
Ivanov studied my father for a long, tense moment.
“Who?” Ivanov finally asked.
A tiny smirk cut my father’s lips upward before he nodded his head to the quiet man standing behind Ivanov and the one next to him who looked scared.
“I want that one and the one beside him.”
Ivanov looked over his shoulder to the tall man, his face visibly paling.
“I cannot give you him—”
“Then we don’t have a deal.” Father inclined his head at Ivanov. “Come, Dante, perhaps some ice cream would hit the spot—”
“Wait.” Ivanov squeezed his eyelids closed as we turned back around to face him. “I-I’m sorry, Nathaniel,” he whispered, stepping aside.
The quiet man’s eyes widened, and he took a step back. That was nothing because our men were quick to descend on him. It was the nervous man who darted off into the night.
“Dante.” Father stared directly into Ivanov’s eyes as Nathaniel tried to fight off our men. “See to it that you catch our dinner. I do so love fast food.”
I didn’t hesitate.
I loved the hunt, and he knew it.
I caught sight of the man dart into the woods. What I loved more than the hunt was the woods. Smiling, I swept forward into the night, my knife clutched tightly in my hand.
“Hey, handsome. Can I get you something?” A pretty brunette asked, breaking me out of my memory.
I stared idly at her through the pulsing club lights.
“Unlikely.”
She offered me a coy smile and reached out to touch me, but I was quick to wrap my fingers around her wrist.
She let out a cry, her eyes filled with fear as I leaned in and narrowed my eyes at her.
“Why do you think you can touch me?” I demanded in a low growl.
“I-I just thought you’d like some company—”
“If I didn’t request it, then how could you arrive at that conclusion?”
“Please, you’re hurting me—”
“Go.” I released her. She stumbled backward but didn’t waste any time putting space between us as she scrambled through the crowded club.
Ready to get out of there, I moved along the back of the club toward the exit. I saw him before he saw me.
Deciding I’d fuck with fate, I didn’t move aside when he passed by me.
Lorenzo De Luca.
His shoulder knocked into mine. He didn’t even bother to turn to look at me. He simply kept going.
It was all I needed to know.
He thought of himself as being at the top of the world. No one was worthy of a second look. Or even a first.
I smiled at that.
That’s the sort of thing that could get a guy into trouble.
He’d find that out soon enough.
