Marrying the Mob Prince

KNOX

Things were looking up.

I’d marry the girl of my dreams. Black Prism was on the verge of breaking new ground in cybersecurity. I’d sent eviction notices to Indie’s former apartment complex and evacuated the tenants. I’d slated it for demolition in a few days. Anybody investigating Andrey’s murder would find a pile of rubble where he drew his last breath.

Billionaire Tyrant Bends the Knee!

He’s Engaged! Ten Fast Facts About Bryan Knox’s Fiancee.

I scanned a gossip column as I rode the elevator, bemused by the headlines cheering my engagement. They were packed with rumors. Nonsense. I’d already sicced my lawyer on the rag that claimed Indie had “trapped” me with an unplanned pregnancy. They could attack me all they liked, but I wouldn’t let the vultures get away with libeling my fiancee.

What was she doing right now?

I buried the impulse to check on her and stowed my phone, watching the numbers blink closer to Cainan’s floor. I’d tracked him down to Seaport. I told Indie I’d left for a business trip, but I was still in town. I doubted she’d approve.

Two more floors.

The doors opened to a classy foyer. Checkered black-and-white marble led to a grand staircase covered in deep blue carpet. Flowers spilled from a vase on a pedestal table. Cainan’s palatial home screamed old money. It looked like a museum. Smelled like one, too. A dusty stench lingered in the rooms. Everything was well kept, pretty, and in order, but like the Kozlov house, it had an air of neglect. Of moldering pages from antique books that had never been pulled from their shelves.

Ahead, a flickering shadow danced over polished hardwood. I entered a large room bathed in orange light. Flames roared in a hearth, the logs spitting and cracking. A man sat on a velvet couch, his back to me. He lounged, his arm draping the couch. Sucking noises emanated from the floor.

Cainan’s knees were spread wide, his gray trousers shoved to his ankles as he fed a woman his cock. A blond girl wearing a collar and nothing else bobbed her neck, blowing him.

“I was wondering when you’d find me.” Cainan turned from the fire, his expression nonplussed. “How did you get inside?”

My heart pounded as I stepped forward, hands in my pockets. “I know my way around security.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m pissed.”

“About Sanctum? Ah. That was an experience.” A smile broadened the sick fucker’s face as if he was recalling Indie’s naked body. “You chose well with that woman. The sister’s hotter, though. Don’t you think?”

His transparent attempt to goad me shouldn’t have worked.

“Not my type,” I snapped, distracted by the slurping sounds. “Are you going to put your dick in your pants, or do I have to wait for you to finish?”

“Slave, take my cock out of your mouth.”

The girl obeyed.

Cainan pulled up his pants and zipped himself. “My friend and I need to chat. Give us privacy.”

“Yes, master.”

“Good girl,” Cainan praised softly. “You know where I want you.”

Nausea pitted my stomach as the blonde did as she was told, drifting away like a white ghost. I grabbed the switchblade from my pocket as Cainan looped his belt in his pants. My thumb slid down the metal, exposing the blade.

The second the girl was out of sight, I lunged. Cainan turned his head as I seized his auburn curls. I immobilized him by pressing the knife just over his pulsating carotid artery. Torture didn’t get my blood flowing. Violence did not bring me peace like it did with Tony, but I did get a contact high when the person I was menacing expressed fear. Unfortunately, Cainan seemed immune to threats.

“So you’re here to kill me.” His relaxed gaze collided with mine, a twisted smile blooming over his face. “Because I made your girlfriend suck your dick?”

“Nobody tells me what to do with my fucking body.”

“And for that, I deserve to die? Have you ever even killed a man?”

His indifference grated on my nerves. “I’ve destroyed plenty of lives.”

“But you’ve never experienced the pleasure of taking one, have you?”

No, I hadn’t. Most forms of intimacy disgusted me. The proximity of my hand to his skin repulsed me. The feeling of his hair in my hands pitted my stomach. So far, I loathed the experience.

“I much prefer to watch a man closely as I rip his life apart.”

Cainan rolled his eyes. “You have nothing to threaten me with.”

“I’m holding a knife to your throat.”

“What about the girl?” he quipped, flicking toward the bedroom. “You have to kill her, too.”

“I’ll buy her off.”

He tutted. “Mercy is for the weak, Knox.”

I wrenched his hair, shutting him up. “You get the real measure of a man by studying his victims. Yours are helpless. Drugged into submission. Mine are men like you. Arms dealers with ties to human trafficking. Did you think I wouldn’t pay you back for what you did to Indie?”

Crimson welled around the blade.

“What I did?” Cainan flinched. “Knox, use your fucking brain. I hired you to create some anti-trafficking software. Why the hell would I do that if I’m one of them?”

“Perhaps you wanted your competition destroyed.”

Cainan’s mocking laughter dug into my chest.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Why shouldn’t I slide this blade across your throat?”

“Who scared Indie out of Sanctum? I did. Who convinced the psychopaths not to slaughter you both? I did. Who wiped out the evidence of Kozlov’s murder? I did.” His fervor lashed at me as he straightened, pushing my hand that held the knife away from his throat. “I’m not your enemy.”

Growling, I pocketed the knife. I’d suspected this ever since our last visit at Sanctum, and his cryptic warning at brunch seemed to cement that he was some kind of double agent. But I didn’t trust Cainan. His oily smile rubbed me the wrong way, and he was too calm for a man who’d just had his life threatened.

“How do we destroy them?”

“Forget it.” Cainan smeared the blood on his neck. “You’re no match for these people. And for fuck’s sake, keep the reporter girl under your thumb.”

I left the house in a state of numb disillusion, confused about Cainan’s role in Sanctum. Now I found myself wrestling with gratitude for the son of a bitch.

I drove home.

Nothing seemed amiss until I strolled into my walk-in closet. A wall of empty, swinging racks swung where Indie’s clothing used to hang. I frowned. Had she taken everything to the dry cleaners?

That naive hope burst as I searched the house. I tore through the rooms, looking for her. She’d cleaned out the coat closet. The bathroom, too. Fuck.

I grabbed my phone. Six missed calls from Valerie.

Val: She packed her things.

Val: She’s gone. I’m sorry.

The raw harsh noise I made didn’t seem to belong to me. Disturbing quakes rocked my serenity as I called Indie, and it went straight to voicemail. What the hell? She’d kissed me goodbye this morning. A hollow beat pounded in my stomach as my gaze landed on pages attached to the refrigerator door. I ripped them off the fridge.

Dear Knox,

I’m leaving you. I care about you, but I can’t do this anymore-

My lungs constricted from the pain in those words. I flinched and looked away. That phrase echoed, barely a thud against the violent roaring in my head. I can’t do this anymore.

She left me.

A feeling punched through my shock-

Rage.