Page 38 of His Kingdom

“Fuck off. It’s not that serious,” I say, and I’m not sure if the lie is for my own benefit or his.

“Sure it’s not. Where is she?” he asks.

“Not here,” I grunt at him.

Emmanuel squints his eyes at me. “You don’t trust me? I’m hurt,” he says with a hand over his heart.

“I don’t trust anyone. You know that.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time, Louie,” Emmanuel reminds me. “There are very few people I would consider a friend. You are one of them. I wouldn’t do anything to someone important to you.”

“Unless you wanted to get at me for something,” I tell him. “Women and children aren’t off-limits in your organization.”

“Then I guess you best not give me a reason to hurt you.” He smiles at me. “Relax. Things are changing in Mexico. My tyrant father is dead.”

“Yeah, and how’d that go down, exactly?” I ask him. The old man was killed a few months ago, leaving my friend here in charge.

“Better you don’t know. Like I said, I don’t want to have to kill you,” Emmanuel tells me. “Now, get out of here. You look sad and you’re scaring away the girls.”

I glance at Sammie and Carlo, who are sitting across from us. “I’m out. You got this?” I ask them. They nod, and I take that as my cue to leave while I can. I return my focus to Emmanuel. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. Welcome back to town.”

It’s still early. I promised to take Charlotte out dancing. It’s the last thing I want to do. I’d much rather keep her occupied in my bed. But if dancing is what she needs, then dancing is what she’ll get.

* * *

I know it as soon as I walk through the door of my penthouse.She’s not here.The place has that eerie quietness.Where the fuck did she go?

I walk back out and unlock the door to the room I set her up in. I really need to find a way to get her to just stay at my place.

I find her in the bed. Asleep. Odd, seeing as I really thought she wanted to go out. I lean over, pull the blankets down, and scoop her up. This won’t do. I need her in my bed. Why would she come back here? If she was tired, she should have just climbed into my bed.

Charlotte’s eyes slowly blink open as I walk down the hall towards my door. “Louie, what’s going on?” she asks, her voice groggy.

“I’m taking you to bed. Go back to sleep,” I tell her, leaning down as I kiss the middle of her forehead. It’s not a gesture I’ve done before I met her. On her, though, it feels right.

I sound like a fucking pussy. I probably need my head examined. Because this shit, the feelings she’s evoking within me… are not normal. They’re so foreign I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with them. The only thing I know for certain is that I want her with me as much as humanly possible right now.

I’m not suggesting that it won’t wear off—although the few times I’ve had to step away from her leave me wanting more, not less. I’ve never been a believer in witches or magic or curses, but maybe there’s merit to all that hocus-pocus shit. She’s either put some kind of spell on me or this is God’s way of fucking with me.

I know I’m not a good person, so why the fuck would they put an angel in my path? Why would they put someone as pure as Charlotte here for me to claim as mine? The only reason would be to punish me, and they’ll do that by showing me goodness and then ripping it away.

I hold on to her tighter. Fuck anyone who thinks I’ll let her go without a fight, God or not.

I lay Charlotte down and pull the blankets up. “Are you coming to bed?” she asks me.

“I’m gonna shower real quick. Go back to sleep,” I tell her.

By the time I finish rinsing off and changing into something clean, Charlotte’s out of it again. Her light snores fill the room. Making my way over to the bed, I’m about to flick the light off when she rolls over and something catches my eye. Not something. A mark. On her upper arm. I lean closer to see exactly what it is. A fucking handprint. Someone had their hand wrapped around her arm tight enough to leave a fucking bruise.

“Charlotte, wake up.” My voice is harsher than I intended it to be, as a red haze takes over my vision.

She jumps and her eyes snap open, bouncing around the room before settling on me. “What’s wrong?”

“Who did this to you?” I hiss through gritted teeth while gesturing to her arm.

Charlotte looks down and then back at me. “It’s nothing,” she says.

“I didn’t ask what it was. I asked who did it. Who the fuck put their hands on you?” I’m already moving around the room, putting on the pants and shirt I just took off. I can feel her watching me.

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