Page 5 of King of Omen

Stepping out after him from my hiding place in the vestibule, I was hit with a faint hint of cologne, cigars, and cinnamon, a musky and masculine essence that drifted off him, only adding to the prepossessing aura he radiated.

His bodyguard hovered at the door and gave me a once-over before sidling aside to let me pass. I sensed that anyone else might not have been allowed to walk in so close behind the legendary honour man.

I lingered at the back of the church for a moment, hesitating in Lorenzo’s wake. With a breath, I overcame my trepidation and sailed to my assigned pew.

I sensed it the second his eyes fell on me.

His scorching gaze raked me from head to toe as I settled in.

I refused to turn, rejecting it and how it stoked my soul, its flames licking at me.

I ignored it.

But as the priest’s monotonous voice droned on, the impression of Lorenzo’s eyes stayed on me, playing on my skin like a physical touch, prickling the tiny hairs on my neck.

Sneaking a glance in his direction, I caught him staring right at me, his dark-eyed gaze intense, unwavering. The punch, to my core, was indescribable.

He raised a brow, raking over my body and back again to lock eyes in a questioning, searching study.

I returned his regard with a tilt of my hat and a slight curve to my lips.

His eyes narrowed further, his jaw tightening, sending a shiver down my spine.

Deciding I was done flirting with the devil, I averted my eyes, working hard to focus on the priest’s words.

Still, his stare burned on with such intensity that it lit me up inside.

A bolt of unexpected need and emotion went through me, mingling with the grief of Bianca’s funeral.

It felt wrong for him to be eyeing me so and for me to react to him like this.

The thing is, I’d never met nor spoken to him.

But something in his bare regard stirred a long-buried desire within me, a touch of dangerous thrill so missing from my quiet, unassuming life.

As the priest’s voice droned on in the background, I stole another glance. The honour man turned his magnificent head, eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a jolt of electricity through me.

My heart raced as I struggled to maintain my composure and push down the unexpected emotions bubbling.

The solemnity of the funeral clashed with the charged atmosphere between us, creating a tension that crackled in the air like static before a storm.

His head swivelled further back, eyes making contact with someone, one brow canted. His bodyguard approached, and a whispered conversation occurred before the latter ghosted away.

We rose for the first hymn, forcing Lorenzo to focus on the front of the church.

I sighed in relief and settled into song until I felt a tap on my shoulder.

Turning, I found Lorenzo’s burly companion next to me.

I raised a questioning brow as he leaned his massive head down to me. ‘You’re not family,’ he whispered, his face brooking no argument.

I jolted. ‘No, I am not, but -.’

‘These pews are set aside for the Calibrese family. Please find someplace else to sit.’

There are moments in life when one came to the brink of losing their shit. This was it for me.

A white-hot, incandescent rage suffused my body until it exploded in my face.

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