Page 28 of Scandalous Kingpin
But that didn’t compare to the turmoil going on inside me. I stood there, trying to unpack his every word and meaning. If this man was serious about marrying me—why in the hell did the thought send my heart galloping?—then maybe he could be my ticket to getting close to Sofia Volkov and her twin daughters. Mysisters.
Good plan.
But first things first. I eyed the shower and decided I’d get cleaned up before making any rash decisions. After all, I couldn’t have the mafia prince, Christian “Priest” DiLustro, looking better than me.
Shedding my clothes, I stepped under the warm spray, letting it wash away the cobwebs. My head was still pounding and I scolded myself for not drinking enough water between drinks last night. I reached for the shower gel and froze. Chloé, my favorite scented shower gel, and a bottle of Amika shampoo and conditioner stood next to a distinctly manly shower gel.
How did Priest know what products I used?
I glanced over my shoulder, almost expecting to see him standing there, lurking and taking notes. When I found nothing but empty space, I squeezed a hefty amount of shampoo into my hair before doing the same with the body wash.
Once I was sparkling, I tiptoed out of the bathroom directly into the walk-in closet. The doors opened soundlessly and lights flicked on automatically, revealing the grand interior and its contents. Suits. Dozens of them lining the rack on my left—black. Blue. Gray. His button-down shirts were even nicer.
And then there was a shelf with… holy mother of God… gray sweatpants.
My cheeks heated and I pictured Priest wearing them low on his hips, the outline of his?—
“Wipe that image out of your mind,” I muttered to myself, tracing my fingers lightly over the expensive fabrics before letting go and turning to the right, finding stacks of clothes in exactly my size. Just as Priest promised.
I picked one of his white dress shirts and a pair of loose-fitting jeans, then headed out of the room only to come to a screeching halt, my hand flying to my mouth.
A Belgian Malinois, a beautiful shepherd, sat in front of the bedroom door, watching me like I was his next meal.
Chapter Thirteen
PRIEST
Tension had been building inside me to the point of near madness, and I knew the very thing that would put me at ease.
I descended the stone steps one at a time, stopping in front of the musty dungeon where I peered through the metal bars, searching for the familiar glowering look.
“Back so soon, Christian?”
An ugly smile with a gaping hole stared back at me and my lips twitched slightly as I unsheathed my knife. It was stupid to taunt me, but some people never learn.
“You sure you want to taunt me today, Mother?”
She spat at my feet. “Pure evil. You are no son of mine.”
“Tough words for a dead woman,” I said lightly, stepping closer. “Let’s see how tough you really are.”
I slammed my fist into her side, right over her left kidney. She coughed, blood dripping down onto her shirt as she gasped for air.
“Wow, you must have kept a diary of every beating you’ve ever gotten,” she said, laughing maniacally. “That was my favorite move. I still remember the way your ribs cracked.”
I wrenched her off the chair, her muffled cry replacing her laugh as the metal crashed against the backs of her legs from where she was still bound.
“Fuck you,” I growled. This woman wasn’t fit to care for a fucking snake, never mind children. Yet, my father was so fucking blind, he’d left us in the hands of a monster to be forever damaged.
“Should I expect that next?” The buzzing in my ears got louder and louder until the only thing I could focus on was the rush of blood in my ears. “But then I bet you can’t even get it up, can you, boy?”
I shoved her away and she slumped back into her rusty seat, her eyes rolling back briefly before they met mine. She’d lost a lot of blood over the past few weeks, but I always administered a transfusion before it became a real issue. I needed her to endure the same amount of torture that I had. That my brother had.
She wouldn’t leave this torture pit alive.
My blinding rage dominated every fiber of my being, rolling like an unstoppable wave. My chest throbbed with pain from the memories dating two decades.
Knowing she’d gotten under my skin, a nasty laugh burst from her, cutting through me like an acid-coated knife. “I know you well, Christian.”
