Page 91 of King of Omen

She radiated a captivating aura—solid and steady, with a gentle warmth that left me wanting more.

The last few days with her had been heaven, one I’d never imagined possible.

Yet, by her invitation, a stranger had entered my home for an unknown reason I didn’t want to contemplate.

My mind ran wild with dark thoughts of betrayal and revenge.

‘I want you to find out everything about the fucker,’ I instructed Mauri, my voice a rumble of sheer control. ‘Who he is, why he was in my house, and what he delivered. Leave no stone unturned.’

Mauri nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. ‘Consider it done, padrone.’

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. What riled me even more was that she’d been apprised of the dangers of letting anyone into my house, given what we’d just experienced.

‘I can’t wait for Don Mancini. Tell his people I’ve had to leave on urgent business and to send word on his decision via yourself. Do that and then get the car, please. I need to head back.’

Mauri executed my orders without wasting any more time. He spoke with Don’s associates in pressing whispers and instructed them to inform him of my sudden departure.

Within minutes, he had the SUV in front of the Mancini mansion.

We sped through the city streets back home, my mind wild with questions.

Who was this man in Mia’s life? What was he doing running to her the second I left, and why was he so comfortable around her? Was he a friend or a lover? Had they slept together in my house?

My paranoid heart pounded as I tried to remain calm and rational. I needed answers now.

MIA

I was so deep into my paper that I almost didn’t catch the front door opening.

I started as the sound of a quick stride sounded in the hallway.

My soul leapt with delight, and I rose from my seat and turned, readying myself to launch into his arms.

Lorenzo entered the kitchen, and I rushed to him but stopped short at the marble counter as our eyes met.

A cold wall of ice hit me.

He stood before me, his tall, striking figure rigid with tension, arms crossed over his broad chest.

A tress of dark locks fell over his eyes, ruffled and out of place.

He’d been pushing his hands in his hair, something he did when he was fired up or stressed.

His expression was unfathomable, devoid of warmth or passion.

It was like the frigid depths of an ocean I had swum in once—terrifying.

‘How was your day, Mia?’ Lorenzo muttered, every word needling my skin. ‘Did you miss me?’

I sensed a trap, and my mind swirled to work out his gist.

‘I did,’ I said in all truthfulness.

‘So much so you invited a friend to visit you?’

‘What are you talking about?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice steady as my heart raced.

He took a deep inhale, his eyes never leaving mine. ‘I had eyes on him. Your 11.39 a.m. guest,’ he said.

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