by Faye Pierce
“Ahh, but you like those terrible things.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Besides, you would have kept attempting to please him the whole time the longer he was here, and I would like to dance with you properly.”
“Oh no, I can’t. My legs are about to fall off.”
Leo shakes his head. “Oh, not yet they aren’t. I promise that will come later.”
He’s my husband; he shouldn’t be making me blush like this, or at least not so easily. His lust is insatiable; every morning, every night, any time that he thinks that he can get away with it, his hands are on me. I love it. I love that he can’t seem to get enough of me. I love how desired he makes me feel.
Leo’s hands move to my hips, walking me further onto the dance floor, and we’re nearly the only two left here. “I’ve been thinking about how we’ve gotten a redo of our wedding night...and all of the ways that I would like to spend it.” He turns me so that my back is against his chest, and his arms wrap around me, swaying softly to the music.
“Our first wedding night was pretty good, already.”
“True, but I feel as if that’s set the standard for how many times my tongue can make you cum in one evening, and I am nothing if not competitive. Who better to challenge me than myself?”
I laugh, and Leo spins me away from him, and then back again. “So then your goal is to kill me. I thought we moved past this?” I tease.
“Oh, we have. The only death I wish for you is le petite mort...over and over again.” Leo dips me only a little, careful to support my back, and my heart warms. “Have I told you how breathtakingly beautiful you are in that dress? I can’t remember ever finding something I didn’t pick out for you that irresistible.”
Leo leans forward to kiss me, first on my lips and then on my chin and my cheeks. He pulls me closer. “I have at least three things that I want to do in this dress. I have been debating where to start, so you have to let me know the moment that you’re ready to leave and return to our suite, because I am dying to get you alone, my wife.”
Mrs. Leo DePonte.
I never want to be anyone else.
Extended Epilogue
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Afterword
Thank you for reading my novel, Dark Heir. I really hope you enjoyed it! If you did, could you please be so kind to write a review HERE?
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Dark Lords
Book#1
Hard Knight
Book#2 (this book)
Dark Heir
Do you want more Romance?
Turn on the next page to read the first chapters of the prequel to this story, which was also my first best-selling novel: Hard Knight
Caspian Knight is literary Diavolo, Las Vegas's most notorious mafia boss. Men fear him, women die to be in his bed, but he is after one particular woman... Falling for the handsome devil will probably kill Valeria Lewis, however that doesn't stop her from craving more of the painful pleasure he offers...
Hard Knight
Chapter One
Caspian
Her screams haunt me.
I continually play back the scene over and over again in my head. Family is the most important aspect of my life. It drives me to extreme lengths to protect them at any cost.
To see the anguish on my sister's face and the pain in her eyes felt like a knife tearing through my heart.
Midnight never blamed me, but those images of her lying in the street covered in blood were something I'm never going to forget. She's my sister, and I made the big mistake of underestimating our adversaries. Being the head of the Knight family is a huge responsibility.
I came from nothing, but that's never stopped me from succeeding.
To say that I was on the warpath would've been a vast understatement. Turning over every rock to find the person that hired the hitman to kill me was to no avail. There were many suspects but no concrete proof to act upon.
Las Vegas is a mecca of greed and influence. The landscape is intimidating to most, but this is my playground.
The city lights bring opportunities that are only going to knock once. The heavy weight of the burden is on my shoulders.
Those closest to me tried in vain to convince me the person responsible for shooting my sister had been brought to justice.
It's too bad that I'm not convinced. Something is nagging at the back of my mind. It's telling me to keep my friends close and my enemies even closer.
"Caspian, I would never steal from you," A squeaky voice pleads.
I glance away from the window, temporarily blinded by a betrayal of trust and confidence.
It's sickening to think that somebody would take the risk of putting their hand in the cookie jar. Treating my employees fairly with great wages should have stopped this from happening, but there's always going to be one rotten apple in the bunch
Thomas was skimming off the top.
It's not much, but an example has to be made quickly to stanch any unrest among my people. It's the principal and not the amount of money he's squirreled away for a rainy day.
He's sitting there in the chair with his mouth bleeding. A couple of his teeth are missing.
They're on the floor at his feet.
Being on top of the mountain gives me a bird's eye view of the little people going about their day. I'm forty stories safely behind reinforced glass in the penthouse suite.
Leo Sloan is my best friend, and people have often commented that we're similar in looks with our long blonde hair and blue eyes. He's also my training partner.
Giving him a place by my side was a stroke of genius. Finding him down on his luck committing petty crimes on the street gave me a chance to teach him about the business.
He's like a sponge constantly absorbing my knowledge and sing it to protect me from harm.
He stands with his blonde hair combed straight back in an air of intimidation. His arms are crossed, and he's not blinking while brandishing a pair of brass knuckles covered in blood. He's not above getting his hands dirty for me.
I pull on the collar of my starched white shirt. It's custom-made by an Italian Mastercraftsman. There are many in my collection. Dressing for success is a key component in making people believe my power is something to be feared.
"Trust is a two-way street. Do you think this makes me happy? I came here to visit one of my more profitable casinos. I built this from the ground up, and you were there every step of the way. It pains me to think you could even consider disrespecting me. How do you think that makes me feel. I'm entertaining a guest. You can see that he's not very comfortable by this unfortunate incident," I refer to Peter Lewis sat in one corner.
Peter is there on purpose to witness this exchange.
"I didn't do anything wrong. This is a mistake," Thomas stammers with little bits of spittle flying from his mouth.
I crack my knuckles right in front of his face. "The only mistake was believing you have my best interest at heart. I'm afraid this is where we are going to have to part ways. I wish you luck in your future endeavors."
A slight nod gives Leo his marching orders.
Thomas is a sniveling coward and barely worth mentioning in the same breath as some of my other more trusted colleagues. He'll live knowing the Damocles sword is hanging over his head.
The moniker of Diavolo is one that I deserve. It will be torture for him to be on the lookout, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Leo doesn't say a word, but he's soon escorting Thomas from the room.
Thomas stumbles a couple of times, but Leo is there to hold him up even though he's
falling apart.
The click of the door closing makes Peter flinch.
It's merely a tactic to keep him unbalanced.
I walk back to my desk with its clear glass top, waiting for the reason for this visit. He owes me a lot of money. It's something that puts him in my debt. That kind of leverage is priceless. I know exactly what I want.
His daughter Valeria is the prize.
Seeing her briefly at her brother's funeral gave me a chance to look into those hypnotizing hazel eyes. She was in mourning, but her attempt to smile stopped my heart for a second.
It's fortuitous to have Peter exactly where I want him despite his efforts to pay back the loan.
The awkward silence is deafening.
"I’m sorry you had to see that. Leo does go a little overboard, but he means well. That brings us to the reason for your visit. Your payment was due three months ago. Being magnanimous has never been my strong suit. We need to discuss how we proceed from here,” I say dramatically while rolling up my sleeves.
It doesn’t look like he’s slept in days with heavy bags underneath his eyes. He’s usually a consummate professional when it comes to business matters.
Losing his son broke something inside of him.
Imagining that kind of pain makes me empathize with his plight, but there’s no way that I can show weakness.
“I’m going to need more time,” Peter says.
“I don’t like being taken advantage of. I hope you remember it was you that came to me and not the other way around. I know what that kind of loss does to somebody. I’m not in the habit of showing pity.” I swallow hard at the recollection of my father being lowered into the ground.
“There are no excuses. The terms were reasonable,” Peter says.
Peter moves his weathered shaking hand through his silver mane of hair
It isn’t the first time I’ve seen this kind of body language when negotiating in good faith. This is a game. I’m very good at reading between the lines. He’s in a pickle and obviously looking for somebody to bail him out. He doesn’t know about my machinations behind the scenes.
Every debt he’s incurred is now under my umbrella. It’s time to show him a way out of his predicament, but he isn’t going to like it. This is the part of the negotiation I live for. It puts me in the driver’s seat.
I extend my hands. “I’m not a monster contrary to popular opinion. We all have moments we would like back. You’ve made your fair share of blunders in business lately, but maybe I can help with that. We can dispense with the ugliness of the loan if you agree to give me your daughter's hand in marriage. Joining forces will make our enemies think twice,” I propose.
He makes a deep sigh. “I can’t do that. My daughter is fiercely independent and doesn’t want anything to do with the family business.”
“She’s in the business by proxy. There’s nothing she can do about that. What happens next to your family and the business you hold so dearly is in your hands. I respect everything you’ve built. This is business. I can’t show favors. What kind of message does that send?” I ask.
“You don’t know what you are asking of me. She would never forgive me.”
“She’s not here. This is for the future of your family. The decision is yours. Can you really afford to have principles?”
“Please, there’s got to be a way to do this without her,” He pleads.
I try not to sound too smug. “I’m not sure you understand your position. Your risks cost you everything. I’m the only one in a position to help dig you out of this mess. I’m a little offended you’re fighting me on this. We both know I’m a man people rarely refuse...and for a good reason.”
“I can’t just turn a blind eye and give you my daughter. I would rather die.”
“Nobody said anything about killing you. Your objection is leaving me with very few choices. You have to see it from my point of view. I allow you to leave here without paying your debt, and people will get the wrong idea. They’ll believe that I’m weak. I can’t have that,” I explain.
He stares right through me.
“I’m sorry….I don’t know what to do,” he says.
“I shouldn’t do this, but I admire you more than you know. This is highly unorthodox, but there might be a way. Are you a gambling man?” I ask from behind with my hands on his shoulders.
“What...do you have in mind? He stammers.
“We play one game of roulette...double or nothing. I win, and your daughter walks happily down the aisle with me. You win, and your debt is cleared. We’ll never have to see each other again,” I say.
“I really don’t have any other choice. Let’s do this before I change my mind,’ he sighs.
I walk with him to the glass elevator and whistle an old song my mother sang to me when I was a child. I catch my reflection on the mirrored surface. In the right light, my blazing blue eyes can appear to turn red.
Being over 6 feet tall can be imposing to some. It isn’t every day the boss shows up breathing fire and taking names. I’m always looking for ways to cut costs using methods I’ve read about in Fortune 500.
The roulette wheel is occupied, but my presence soon has the patrons looking for other ways to gamble away their time.
I choose red, and Peter chooses black.
The little silver ball blinks into focus in the dealer’s hand. He drops it, and it bounces several times, moving around in a circular motion. My eyes narrow in concentration.
Peter gulps, and I smile when it finally comes to a stop.
She’s going to be my bride and doesn’t even know it. It would be nice to break the news to her in person, but I know it’s going to be better coming from her father.
Valeria
I can’t believe what’s coming out of his mouth, but he’s doing it with a straight face.
We never did see eye to eye, but that doesn’t give him the right to use me as a bargaining chip.
It’s appalling, and I’m speechless, unable to voice my contempt for his actions.
It feels like the walls are closing in on me. My breath is short, and my palms are sweating.
I sit down with a sense of defeat. My dark hair curling and matted to my forehead
“Valeria, I don’t know what you want me to say. Think about what this means for the future of our family. The debt I owe will be lifted. Joining our two families will make us stronger than ever. This is the only way to make things right,” my father says.
“How many times have I told you this business isn’t for me? What makes you think that I’m going to go along with this hare-brained scheme? I love you with all of my heart, but you are asking too much,” I shout.
“I know it’s not right to put you in this position.”
“I have a career to think about. I’m the head editor of The Las Vegas Sun. I can’t just abandon everything I’ve built. You’ve seen how hard I worked to keep people from thinking I’m going to follow in your footsteps. It’s taken a lot of time to make them see that I’m not my father’s daughter,” I add, a little more calmly.
He stands next to paintings of my family ancestors.
I’m the first in several generations to step outside of the family to seek my own goals and aspirations. Being short makes people think they can walk all over me, but they find out this girl has claws and knows how to use them. Nobody is going to put me in a tiny little box. Breaking glass ceilings is a pleasure.
“I never understood the reason why you turned your back on the life I gave you. You have to admit it does have its perks. We live in the lap of luxury. We don’t have to lift a finger. There’s a private chef ready day or night to cater to our whims. We have an Olympic -sized pool in the basement, and that’s just a few of the amenities right here at your fingertips. Life doesn’t get any better than this,” he says.
“We also have this constant fear following us around like a dark and foreboding shadow. That’s not any way to live. I want something different. I don’t have the stomac
h, and we both know it,” I say emphatically.
“Family will always come first. Look around you. These men knew what it was to sacrifice for something bigger than themselves. You’re not the only one to want out. I’ve never told you this, but I discussed with your grandfather the possibility of opening up a catering service,” he admits.
