Page 49 of Untouchable Queen
He has several men watching by the dock, waiting for Saturo to arrive, and they pace slowly back and forth, keeping their eyes focused on the inky water.
I hear the commotion before I see it—Lucian’s men calling a warning moments before the cargo boat starts to pull in. I clenchmy fingers, leaning forward so I can get a better look. I count nine men in total, two standing at the front of the ship, and one most definitely looks like Saturo. His dark hair whips in the wind as he watches from the bow. I don’t recognize the man next to him, though he’s holding a massive duffle bag that I can only assume is supposed to be Lucian’s payment.
Another ripple of goosebumps raises the hair on the nape of my neck.
But the boat docks, two men hopping out to tie it to the mooring bollards, and as the rest start to disembark, I catch sight of Lucian coming to greet them. He looks cool, calm, and collected in his deep navy Italian suit—ever the charming businessman.
Then my pulse flutters as movement catches my attention in my periphery. My head snaps to the left, back toward the docks near the port entry. For a moment, I think it must be my imagination. I don’t see anything now that I’m looking right at it. But the shadows are long between the flood lights since most businesses are shut down overnight.
There.
A fist tightens around my chest as I spot the movement again—several hunched figures rushing from the cover of one shadow to the next, then more follow. With a snap of my finger, I direct my men’s attention toward the movement. I can feel them shifting behind me, preparing for action, but they wait for my signal.
Heart in my throat, I will it all to be a figment of my imagination—maybe they’re Lucian’s men coming to join the party late. But as they make it to the final line of shadows, I know that’s not the case. They’re dressed in all black, their outfits similar to the loose-fitting garments used for a good number of martial arts forms to allow freedom of movement. As they creep into the light, their movements are stealthy, choosing silenceover speed, and based on their trajectory, their aim is to cut off Lucian’s means of escape.
Damn it.
I actually hate that I’m right. Nothing about this situation sits well with me, and I signal my men to move in quietly—until I hear the gunshots.
“Let’s go!” I shout, breaking into a sprint as my feet hit the pavement outside Lucian’s warehouse.
My men are right beside me, converging around me to provide me with extra cover as they lead the charge. Somewhere along the line, I went from fighting for every scrap of respect I could earn to having men who would die for me. I don’t know when that happened exactly—though I do think having Lucian as an enemy to unite against did help, surprisingly. And as we burst into the warehouse as one, the irony isn’t lost on me. We’re defending the very man we came together to fight in the beginning.
The scene before me turns my blood to ice as I watch Lucian’s men, outnumbered and outmatched, holding Saturo’s men at bay with firearms where the yakuza were trying to make this a silent but deadly attack.
I gasp as I watch the man Lucian’s fighting perform a sweeping side kick that knocks the gun out of my husband’s hand. But Lucian hardly misses a beat as he pulls a knife and goes for the man’s throat. Bile races up my throat, and I stumble, pressing the back of my hand to my mouth as I try to keep the nausea in check. This is the absolute worst time to start having morning sickness—but with my aversion to blood, I’m not surprised this would be the tipping point.
It’s mortifying to have to turn aside—to let my men finish the charge without me as I empty my stomach just outside the warehouse door. Taking several shuddering breaths, I wipe mymouth on the back of my hand and straighten, trying to collect myself. Then I step through the open doorway.
“Tatiana Sokolov. You’re the last person I expected to see here this evening.”
I recognize the heavy Japanese accent from the meetings my father used to hold with Saturo Takumi. Once upon a time, he and my father actually tried to form a business agreement. But it fell through as soon as my father realized how untrustworthy Saturo was.
“We both knew you were going to betray Lucian. I couldn’t just stand aside and let it happen, now could I?” I counter, my heart pounding a painful beat against my ribcage.
But Saturo doesn’t appear to have any interest in attacking me. In fact, his stance is impressively casual, and he’s not even holding a weapon. Then again, his men aren’t known for needing weapons to be deadly.
“And why not?” he asks, his head tilting curiously. “I set this whole plan in motion with the intention of killing Lucian so I could bring you his head as a wedding present.”
“A wedding present?” I ask, my mind reeling as I try to make sense of his words, but they’re not computing.How could my husband’s head be a wedding present to me?
“I know what the Italians did to your father. I know how much you despise Lucian for it. By bringing you his head, I would kill two birds with one stone—you would have your revenge, and you would no longer be his wife, which would leave you free to marry me.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I take an involuntary step back, confident I must have heard him wrong.
But Saturo’s gaze is steady, his expression deadly serious, and I realize with dawning horror that he actually means it. He wants to marry me, and he thinks that killing Lucian will win meover. “Be my wife, Tatiana. And I will burn Lucian’s empire to the ground.”
Cold shock jolts through me as I realize that what I once might have considered the perfect wedding present would be nothing short of ripping my heart out now. Faced with the very real possibility of losing Lucian, I don’t think I can. It would utterly destroy me to see his brilliant head separated from his gorgeous body. And the deep, aching sense of loss that consumes me from just thinking about it tells me all I need to know.
“I wouldn’t marry you, even if I could,” I state coldly, my stomach threatening to revolt a second time. I clench my fists, trying to hold on to my dignity as I stand my ground.
A transformation takes over Saturo’s face. The dark promise in his eyes turns to deadly steel, and his lips curl into a silent snarl. With incredible speed, his hand darts out, and white-hot pain explodes across my cheek before the world goes dark.
29
LUCIAN
Isee Tatiana as soon as she steps into the warehouse. She looks dangerously pale, and my stomach plummets as I fear she’s injured. But I haven’t seen anyone near her but her men. Then her gaze snaps right, and my feet start to move of their own accord as I wade through the fighting masses to get to her.
