Page 22 of His Kingdom

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“So you shacked up with a runaway bride?” Sammie laughs.

“Fuck off,” I grunt at him before downing the contents of my whiskey glass.

“So this detective, he cheated on her? Fucking fool.” Carlo whistles. “Girl’s a solid ten.”

I raise a brow at him. I’m not opposed to putting a bullet between his eyes if he’s looking at Charlotte the wrong kind of way. Like I said, I will stop at nothing to get what I want and keep it.

“Objectively speaking,” he adds, holding up his hands. “Trust me, boss, she’s all yours.”

“That’s if you can keep her. She’s smart, that one,” Sammie chimes in.

“You think I can’t keep her?” I ask, genuinely curious as to why the fuck he thinks I won’t be able to keep her.

“Does she know who you are?” he counters. “She’s a good girl type. Doesn’t fit in with our world.”

“She fits in if I say she does,” I tell him before changing the subject. “How’d it go with Justin?”

“Splayed him out. I’m expecting it to hit the media anytime now. Left him in an alleyway behind one of the Garcia restaurants,” Carlo says.

The Garcias are pains in my ass. Their empire is building, not as large as mine, but they’re giving it their best shot.

“Get anything else out of him?” I know there was a reason Justin sold insider intel, and it sure as fuck wasn’t for a sick mother who doesn’t exist.

“Nope. But I have my suspicions. I’ve got a few guys hitting the streets tonight. Once they find him, people will start talking and our guys will be there to hear 'em.”

“Good. Keep me posted. I got shit to do.” By this time, I’m usually walking the floor, mingling with high rollers and making my presence known. Right now, all I want to do is get back upstairs to Charlotte.

I hear it as soon as I open the penthouse door. Her cries. I run through the living room and find Charlotte curled up on the bed. Sobbing. The sound—the image of her so upset—has my chest aching.

“Charlotte? What happened?” I ask as I climb onto the bed and pick her up. I sit her on my lap and hold her against my chest. Her sobs get harder, louder, and my hands are ready to get stained with the blood of whoever the fuck made this woman cry.

ChapterTwelve

The moment Louie’s arms wrap around me, I lose any control I thought I might have had. My cries turn into full-blown sobs. My tears stain his shirt. I’m a mess. I don’t know what happened. After he left, I swallowed that pill, had a shower, put a robe on, and sat on the bed. Then the next thing I knew, I was crying.

“What happened?” Louie asks again, his fingers stroking my hair.

“My life is a mess,” I manage to get out through heaves. I’m trying to stop. I shouldn’t be seeking comfort from a stranger.

“Is it a mess or is it just beginning?” Louie asks.

“What do you mean?” I push myself off him, sitting cross-legged on the bed. I use the sleeve of the robe to wipe at my face. Disgusting as it is, it’s all I have.

“I mean, what if your life isn’t a mess? This could be the best thing that ever happened to you, Charlotte. You get a fresh start. A chance to recreate yourself to the version of you that you want to be. Not the version that others want you to be.”

Is he right? Have I spent my whole life pretending to be one thing when I’m really another?I don’t think I have. I like myself. I liked my life… mostly.

“I was ready to call off my wedding. I don’t know why, but I knew I didn’t love him enough to marry him.”

“That took a lot of guts for you to do that,” Louie tells me.

“But instead of breaking up with Owen, I found him fucking my sister and I ran.”

“I’m not going to lie. I’m glad you ran here. That I met you. I’m glad that you’re here.” Louie takes hold of my hands.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

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