Page 26 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

She’s a stalker and crazy after all.

In my defense though, she left me no choice.

“Okay.” I pour myself some water and press the cold glass to my cheek. “Amalia’s file?”

“You’ll get the email in the morning. I promise.” She scoots closer to the window and stares at the dance floor, the light flickering in her eyes and ignoring me all together for the next fifteen minutes as I flip through the menu.

I never thought I’d find a weirder person than me, but Isla wins.

Since the silence only stretches around us, I decide to order some food, when she exclaims, making me jerk, “They’re here!” She jumps up, practically plastering her face against the glass, and I come closer, following her gaze to the parting crowd on the dance floor.

It’s as if the whole club has frozen in time to give space to the newly arrived people.

A murmur washes over the crowd, judging by their body language, as four men march inside in unison, one after the other, different yet magnificent in their own nature.

After all, their images frequently cover the most popular magazines as they inspire curiosity and interest among men and women alike.

You don’t have to live in Chicago to know about them and their deeds.

First, in walks one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen, his blond hair glistening under the light, and his bright green eyes make me think of the clearest of emeralds. Compared to most of them, he’s on the leaner side; the three-piece suit and lustful atmosphere fit him like a glove, while the wicked smile on his mouth could charm any willing woman out of her panties in record time.

His manwhore ways are legendary, and he broke a lot of hearts back in the day, although he never promised anyone commitment or fidelity. Rumor has it he avoids the word like the plague.

Not that women even tried much.

The men in his family are known for a good time and disastrous relationships.

Belonging to the exclusive jewelry makers dynasty whose pieces are displayed all over the world and cost a fortune, he is considered one of the rare ones who got his great-grandfather’s talents. Although to his family’s dismay, he refuses to take the reins and inherit the business from his father.

Florian Price.

A server already runs to him, holding a tray with a drink that he snags easily, then winks at the passing women who giggle happily at his attention, and my gaze shifts to the man following right behind him.

Half his head is shaved with the rest falling over the side of his face, covering an angry-looking, long, red scar on his cheek that the press loves to speculate about but everyone shies away from looking at. His cold stare has the power to awaken the dead to do as he says. Nicknamed a barbarian trapped in a suit whose ripped body is ready to erupt from it at any moment, and that’s why he mostly never wears them unless he absolutely has to.

An heir to the oil empire who sends fear in whoever comes in contact with him, and women avoid him at all costs despite the wealth and status he possesses.

Octavius Reed.

He strolls to the bar, snapping his fingers at the bartender who instantly takes out an envelope and gives it to him.

The air hitches in Isla’s throat.

I glance at her as she curls her fingers on the glass, her whole focus belonging to Octavius, and realization falls on me like a ton of bricks.

This is the man she is stalking. Is she out of her mind?

I shake my head and groan inwardly at the upcoming disaster, because Octavius Reed is not known to be nice or even fair. In fact, in most cases, he is straight-up cruel and has little regard for people’s emotions. The only person everyone ever saw him being nice to is Estella, his younger sister, who married her professor a few years back.

Talk about being brave. Not sure I’d have been messing around with my professor if I had Octavius for a brother.

My eyes move on to study the third man.

His dark hair accentuates his tan skin and emphasizes the high cheekbones that bring attention to the perfect symmetry of his face.

If a sculptor wanted to ever carve his image, he’d have a perfectly mesmerizing statue. A true work of art in a human body.

His full lips tip into a smile, yet compared to Florian’s, it almost serves as a warning to whoever wants to come close, and his piercing ocean-blue eyes stay absolutely cold, hinting at his cruel character and ruthless nature.

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