Page 22 of His Queen

“Try his cell,” Alexius orders. “I’ll meet you in the Dark Sovereign room. I just need to say goodnight to Leandra and the twins. I suggest you say goodnight to your wife as well. It’s going to be a long night.”

I shift from one leg to the other. “She’s already in bed.”

“Oh.” He glances at his Rolex. “She feeling okay? It’s kinda early.”

“She’s fine.”

Alexius stares at me the way he always does when he’s trying to zero in on my thoughts, dissecting my brain, examining all sides of me, hoping he can read my secrets in the lines on my face or the curves of my lips.

“I said she’s fine,” I say with finality.

“A bit of trouble there in paradise, brother?”

“How about a bit of an ass-kicking if you don’t stay out of my personal business?”

Alexius snorts. “Fine. Call Caelian.”

I grab my phone while heading toward the conference room, dialing Caelian’s number. After several rings, it goes straight to voicemail. Frustrated, I try again but get the same result. My fingers fly across the screen, typing a text message detailing how Alexius will have his ass on a silver platter if he misses our meeting tonight.

Maximo and I walk into the Dark Sovereign chamber, warm light flowing through the room, touching the gold embroidered DS on Alexius’ chair with a regal shimmer. Isaia is already here, sitting on his leather chair, swirling the ice and amber liquid in his crystal glass. The room is still the same as the last time we were in here, only there’s a newly stocked tray full of specially selected bourbon and single malt on the sideboard.

“They say drinking alone is the first sign of being an alcoholic,” I tease, grabbing the bottle and pouring myself and Maximo a drink. The bourbon smells of honey, smoke, and black licorice.

Isaia grins then takes a sip. “I’m not alone, am I? You’re both here.”

“You seen Caelian?” I take my seat across from him.

“He texted me earlier saying he’ll be late tonight.”

“Fucker isn’t answering my calls,” I groan before swallowing a nice gulp of bourbon, loving how it burns and settles in my stomach.

“He’ll be here.” Isaia lights a cigarette, planting his elbows on the table. “Where’s Alexius?”

“On his way.”

The silence that follows is heavy with tension as we wait for Alexius and Caelian to arrive, the ice clinking against our glasses providing the only sound. There’s a sense of unease like something is brewing below the surface. Even the winter wind outside whistles with sinister intent, as if warning us of what’s to come. But it’s been that way ever since the night at Myth when I almost had the honor of having that Ferrero fucker’s blood on my hands. Even though the waters have been quiet since that night, everyone knows it’s only the calm before the storm, and once that storm hits, it will be a shit show.

Just as I take another sip of my drink, the door swings open and Alexius strides in, followed by the sound of Caelian’s voice. The room is illuminated with a variety of emotions as they both enter—anger, apprehension, and worry all prominent on their faces.

I’m about to crack a wise-ass joke about them appearing like they fought their way here from halfway around the world, but the weary cut on their faces stops me.

“Before you chew my ass about being late and not answering calls,” Caelian says in a low voice as he takes off his coat and sits at the table. “I got hold of some interesting information about this sex club Nunzio was trying to recruit our girls for.”

“What is it?” Maximo asks anxiously.

Caelian takes a deep breath, running his hand through his dark hair. “It’s not just any sex club. It’s a huge operation of trafficking women.”

I scoff. “We can’t exactly point fingers.”

“At least we’re taking women out of their shitty situations and giving them a choice,” Alexius retorts, blue eyes flashing. “Rehabilitation, or work for us.”

“It doesn’t stop there,” Caelian continues as Isaia slides a glass of bourbon his way across the table. “Thanks, man.”

I’m about two seconds away from choking the rest of the info out of him as I watch him take the world’s slowest sip and swallow. It’s like watching a sloth get off its tree for the first time.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Caelian sets his glass down and continues. “This club, like ours, it’s for elite customers only. The rich and famous with…specific tastes.”

Maximo sets his glass down. “Like?”

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