Page 74 of Goldrage
When I step over the ropes, someone hands me a towel. I don’t look at who. The fabric’s already pink with blood by the time I reach the edge of the crowd. Olivia is gone.
I don’t blame her. I’d run from me too, if I could.
People part like I’m radioactive. I catch the glances: Approval. Fear. Curiosity. Hunger. I let their eyes crawl over me. I want them to see the monster. Better they fear me than anything else.
Then I notice a woman sitting in a chair, glass of white wine in her hand, black dress clinging to every curve. She gives me a flirty smile, and for the first time in too long, my dick stirs.
Her gaze flicks down my body, lingering on the mess I’ve made of myself, and back up to my face with a little tilt of her head, like she’s impressed, but not intimidated.
I like that. I like her.
I move close enough to see that her lipstick’s the exact shade of dried blood.
“Enjoy the show?” I ask.
She puts her wine down. “The violence is predictable,” she says. “But you… you do it beautifully.”
“Want to help me clean up?”
She stands and links her arm through mine. “I would love to, Mr. Harrow.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
JULIAN
After fucking that woman—whose name I didn’t get—for about an hour, my body is satisfied in more ways than one. I clean up in the shower and then head to the private lounge where the inner circle conducts real business. The room reeks of cigar smoke, which matches the suffocating mahogany panels and burgundy leather that’s absorbed decades of evil.
Sergio Castellano is chatting near the fireplace, his silver hair gleaming as he gestures to Marco Benedetti and Vincent Torrino. Their conversation dies when I enter, replaced by a respectful silence. Good. Looks like my show earlier worked.
I cross to the mahogany bar positioned under a portrait of some forgotten baron. My hands are actually steady as I pour whiskey into a crystal tumbler.
That’s when I notice my mother and Bianca huddled near the far wall. Their body language screams secrets: heads bent together, voices pitched so low that even my trained ears can’t catch any words. Bianca keepstouching her stomach and it’s setting off alarms in my head.
I linger where I’m at, using the mirror behind the bar to study their reflection without appearing to watch. When Bianca shrugs, my mother’s face transforms into a mask of cold fury. My suspicions become living things.
They’re so focused on their conversation they don’t notice me silently approaching. I start to catch a fragment of their hushed conversation.
“—yes, I did that. After he came, I capped it quickly and?—”
Bianca’s words die in her throat when she spots me behind Mother. Her eyes widen and she inches back.
My mother spins and gives me a warm smile. “Julian! We were just discussing your show earlier?—”
“What container?” I ask evenly, staring daggers at Bianca. “What are you whispering about?”
Bianca’s mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, but my cold stare freezes whatever lie she’d planned to tell. When the silence stretches thin, I step closer, my presence overwhelming them. The satisfied calm that settled over me during the executions resurfaces, and I can see both women recognize it.
“I asked you a question,” I say softly. “What. Container?”
“It’s nothing important, dear,” my mother says, but I don’t shift my focus from Bianca. She’s the weak link, the one whose guilt is written across her face in letters so large a blind man could read them.
I toss my glass against the wall so it shatters. Bianca flinches and the rest of the roomfalls silent.
“Tell me.” I reach for my gun, drawing it from its holster and leveling it at her head. “I don’t really care that you’re my brother’s wife. I’ll happily shoot you so I don’t have to hear your fucking voice ever again.”
The barely leashed violence radiating from my skin, the promise of consequences, breaks her resolve.
“I-I didn’t mean— it wasn’t my idea— I drugged Adrian and then went to his room,” she blurts out, the words tumbling over each other. “I jerked him off. I thought— Liora thought if I could get pregnant with an heir…”
