Page 55 of His Nephew's Ex
“Please—”
“Get out.” The command is soft, almost conversational. “Get out of my house, off my property, out of my sight. And if I ever—ever—see you near her again, I’ll forget I have tolerated you this long because of the love and bond I shared with my brother.”
The threat settles over us like a burial shroud. Flavio all but runs for the exit, his dignity forgotten in his haste. But he can’t resist one last look—not at the man who broke him, but at me.
His face makes my stomach drop into free fall. I see the hate, but it’s the calculating gleam behind it that promises retribution.
The door bangs shut behind him. His threats hang in the silence, mixed with the betraying smell of fear beneath his costly cologne.
In the sudden silence, I become hyperaware of Simeone’s presence—the way he fills the space Flavio vacated, the heat radiating from his skin, the controlled violence simmering just beneath his expensive suit.
“Stellina.” His voice is gentler now, but I can hear the fury underneath it. “Come here.”
I move toward him on unsteady legs, and when I’m close enough, his hands frame my face with infinite care—such a contrast to his nephew’s bruising grip that tears spring to my eyes.
“Are you hurt? Besides your arm?”
“No.” The word comes out shaky, betraying how much Flavio’s visit has rattled me. “Just scared.”
“Good.” His thumbs stroke across my cheekbones. “Fear keeps you alive in this world. But you’ll never have to face him alone again.”
“How can you be sure? He’s family—”
“Even family needs to be kept in line.” His tone is absolute, final. “If he doesn’t stay in his place, he’ll be just another threat to eliminate.”
The casual way he discusses murdering his own nephew should horrify me. But for some reason, it sends a dark thrill through my veins.
“Simeone—”
“I should have made it clear to the guards that he’s not welcome here without my permission.” His voice hardens with self-recrimination. “I let my feelings for my family cloud my judgment. I’m sorry you had to pay the price of my mistake.”
“I can handle Flavio—”
“You shouldn’t have to.” His hands tighten on my face, not enough to hurt but enough to command my complete attention. “You’re under my protection,stellina. That means no one—no one—touches you without consequence.”
The possessive declaration makes heat pool between my thighs despite everything that just happened. There’s something primitively satisfying about his claim, about knowing that this dangerous, powerful man considers me his to protect.
“What are you going to do?” I whisper.
His smile is sharp and dangerous, beautiful and terrible in equal measure. “Whatever needs to be done.”
That vow pulses between us, dangerous as a live wire. Staring into his black eyes, I’m shaken to discover I don’t fear his offered violence—I want it.
I’m grateful for it.
The realization should probably scare me more than Flavio’s threats. But because the sentiment comes from Simeone, it makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t since this whole nightmare began.
Because for the first time since I walked into his world, I’m not just a victim to be protected.
I’m a queen whose king is ready to go to war for.
18
Simeone
The sound of Loriana’s bare feet slapping against marble echoes through the house in the pre-dawn darkness, followed by the crash of my office door slamming open hard enough to rattle the windows. She stands in the doorway like an avenging angel wrapped in silk and fury, her dark hair wild from sleep and her brown eyes blazing with the kind of righteous anger that could topple governments.
Magnificent. Absolutely fucking magnificent.
