Cruel King: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Jillian Quinn

  My phone vibrated across my desk, and I ran to it as if it were on fire. It was a number I didn’t recognize. But I knew it was Stephan.

  I held the phone in my hand, staring at Stephan’s words, which made my heart leap out of my chest.

  How’s my raven?

  It was short and sweet. I hugged the phone against my chest, relieved to have finally heard from him. Even though he’d waited one week to text me, I was no longer angry. Maybe that made me a fool, but I didn’t care.

  I sucked in a deep breath and let it out, wondering if he would take me away from all of this. If he would save me from being forced into marrying a man I would never love.

  Chapter Twelve

  Stephan

  The past week was a fucking disaster. I’d waited far too long before I sent Isabella a text message. It was lame. She deserved so much more from a man than a stupid text. I knew when I followed her up to her suite that I could never give her what she needed. But I was selfish and took her anyway. Things had changed so much since high school. I wasn’t the same person. Neither was she. Our circumstances were different.

  Nino gripped the wheel in his hands and tugged hard as he turned around the corner.

  “Would you slow down?” I yelled at him. “You’re supposed to tail that car, not ride up his ass. Who the hell taught you how to follow someone?”

  He ran a hand through his dark, messy hair and put it back on the steering wheel. “I’m tired. We haven’t slept in days. I need a hot shower. Can’t someone else do this for us?”

  “No,” I growled. “Keep your eyes on the road and fall back before they notice we’re behind them.”

  I was exhausted and frustrated, sick of chasing after Chris Rizzoli. Joe had lied about the location of his cousin. Nino and I were running around New York in search of Chris, like two goons who had nothing better to do.

  With my cell phone in hand, I waited for Isabella to text back. I was expecting a quick reply, but she surprised me by sending a selfie. She had her white dress shirt open, revealing a red, lacy bra that pushed up her tits. They were full and popping out from the top of the fabric, and for a second, I closed my eyes so I could remember how good she felt in my hands.

  Me: You’re killing me, you know that?

  My cock was growing hard the longer I stared at her picture.

  Isabella: Next time you don’t have to go slow.

  I balled my hand into a fist and bit down on it, staring away from the screen and out the window. It was like she was challenging me to fuck her. She knew our night together was a one-time thing. I had no plans of going easy on her after the first time. Even though I had to keep my head in the game and focus on finding Chris, I couldn’t think of anything other than filling Isabella’s tight pussy.

  Me: Who said there’s going to be next time?

  I laughed to myself and Nino noticed. “Who are you talking to?”

  “No one,” I shot back.

  “It’s Isabella, isn’t it?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “How did you know?”

  “You followed her out of the ballroom the other night. Then, you two came back within minutes of each other, and then you disappeared again. You’re lucky Dad and Alessio didn’t notice.”

  “I don’t care what they have to say about it.”

  “Whatever Pops has going on with the Senator might be on the down low, but that doesn’t mean you can do the same with his daughter. Remember what happened to her in high school after you were with her? I heard Alessio and Dad talking one night. The Senator has something on him, something big. That’s the reason we still help out their family.”

  “I know. But what does he have on us?”

  He slid his hand along the steering wheel, coming to a stop at the light. “Beats me. Whatever it is must be good enough for them to have still remained in contact after all these years.”

  My cell phone rang again, but this time it was a message from Paul Basile, one of my father’s oldest friends and his trusted advisor.

  It was a tip from one of our associates about Chris Rizzoli and his new crew being on the move again. No one had seen or heard from any of his guys in almost two days. Our lead ran dry the night we went on a fool’s mission to find him. But his cousin Joe paid the ultimate price for the betrayal.

  Without eyes on Chris and the men who were dumb enough to follow him, the threat was always there. We had no way of planning our attack. So, we had to sit and wait, keeping up our guard until they were dumb enough to resurface. Luckily, they did.

  “Make a left up here.” I pointed in the direction. “Paulie just sent me the location of where Chris and his men are supposed to be hiding out.”

  He nodded, and I typed a quick reply to Paulie to let him know we were on it.

  We drove for another thirty minutes before the GPS alerted us we were there. Nino parked two blocks down from the house, creating enough of a distance for us to check out our surroundings. The street was covered in overhanging trees, the leaves cloaked us in darkness.

  I leaned back against the leather seat and removed the gun from my waist. “We can’t go in there and try to fight them head-on. Park the next block over, and we’ll hit them from the back.”

  He shifted the car into gear and did as I asked. “I hope he’s here this time. I need sleep.”

  “Me, too.”

  We got out of the car and crossed the street to get a better look. Not a soul was in sight. With my gun in hand, poised and ready to shoot, I crept down the intersecting street. Nino covered me from behind as we moved down the dark alleyway. We were a few houses from the location when I heard footsteps behind me, followed by a muffled sound.

  When I spun around, I was surprised to find another man—a man who wasn’t Nino. A muscular guy around my father’s age had Nino pressed up against the fence of a neighbor’s backyard. He held a knife to his throat, staring at me, awaiting my next move. I knew him. Carmine Gallo was a member of our organization for years. Up until that night, he was a loyal soldier, one who never met the full potential required to lead a crew.

  I could have shot him in the head, but what if he slit my brother’s throat before his body hit the ground? That was a chance I wasn’t willing to take.

  Carmine was wearing a black suit, his dark hair combed off his face. “Drop the gun, little DeLuca.”

  I smirked. Who the fuck does he think he’s talking to?

  With my gun aimed at his head, I slid my finger to the trigger. “Let my brother go.”

  “We only want to talk. We’re not here to hurt you.”

  “Who’s we?” I spat.

  He tipped his head to the men I hadn’t seen until he pointed them out. They were a few houses back, one of them resting against a fence, the other lighting a cigarette. We were outnumbered and outgunned. Either I listened to what they had to say, or Nino and I would be leaving there in a body bag.

  I lowered my gun at my side. “What do you want?”

  “The fight between Chris and your old man started over Senator Parisi. Joe was exiled from the family, all because Parisi said he wanted him gone.”

  “I had to pull Rizzoli off Isabella Parisi. He was slapping her around.”

  “He wanted information from her,” he shot back, his voice raspy.

  “Looked like more than that to me. I’d say he has a thing for Isabella, and no one is going to touch her.”

  No one but me.

  The corners of his mouth widened, turning up into a wicked grin. “You have no idea what’s going on. The old man doesn’t tell you anything, does he?”

  “You got something to say? Spit it out already, and stop wasting my time.”

  “Don’t look for Rizzoli. Stop involving yourself in shit that doesn’t concern you.”

  I ground my teeth in anger, my right hand balled into a fist at my side, the other clutching the gun. “If it has to do with my family, then it concerns me.”

  “Rizzoli knows something he shouldn’t. That’s
why the Senator and your old man want him dead.”

  I shrugged. “Why are you telling me this? You’re holding a knife to my brother’s neck, and for what? To relay a message? Spit it out already and let him go.”

  The man I couldn’t see clearly from afar crushed the cigarette under his shoe and then stalked toward us, moving out of the shadows. Carmine glanced over his shoulder at him, and then he released his grip on Nino, pushing him toward me.

  As he disappeared down the alleyway, Carmine said, “There’s a rat in the family, and the Parisis are behind all of this.”

  I was so confused. What did the Parisis have to do with us? And why did Carmine or Chris Rizzoli think I was the key to helping them quash this beef?

  Nino bent over to cough, clearing his throat, and then stood to meet my gaze. “I’m going home. I don’t give a shit what Dad says. I need food, a shower, and some sleep. Fuck this shit. The Parisis are not worth getting whacked over.”

  “You won’t get an argument from me.” I inspected Nino’s face, my eyes traveling over the gash Carmine left behind. A sliver of blood ran down his neck, soaking into the collar of his white shirt.

  My body grew tense from the sight. No girl was worth the life of my brother, no matter how good she tasted and how much I wanted to fuck her again. Isabella Parisi was dead to me. It was her family or mine, and I chose mine without even blinking.

  Nino ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “We need to find out what Senator Parisi has on Dad.”

  I hooked my arm around his back, even though he didn’t need me to hold him up, and we strolled down the alley together.

  Could I trust the word of a man who held us at knifepoint? I didn’t trust anyone but Nino. We had a bond that no one could break. But I wondered if Carmine was on to something.

  Were Isabella and her family the real enemy?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Isabella

  “Are you busy?”

  Startled by my father’s voice, I spun around in my high-back leather chair and forced a smile.

  With a thick head of black, wavy hair combed off his forehead, my father stood tall, the weight of the world balanced on his broad shoulders. Shrewd in business and in life, he had a fierceness about him that sent a chill down my spine when his hazel eyes met mine.

  He shut the door behind him and strolled into the room, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of my desk.

  I pushed the keyboard away from me and leaned my elbows on the desk as he took a seat across from me. “I’m working on a few things, but nothing that can’t wait.”

  More like I was daydreaming and wondering why I hadn’t heard from Stephan. Again. He seemed to make a habit of making me wait around for him.

  Why is my father here?

  He always called before he made an appearance at his campaign headquarters. It was so unusual for him to drop by unless he was there for a photo-op or to strategize with one of his advisers.

  “Mark said he spoke to you.” He folded his hands on his lap, sitting up straight in a five thousand dollar suit, a brown wingtip rested on his knee. “Have you considered the offer?”

  I should have known this wasn’t a social call. My father never did anything without a purpose, and spending time with his family was more of an uncomfortable event he had to endure for the press.

  I ignored his question. “How are your numbers? Any improvement?”

  His jaw flexed, the tension in his body evident. “Not as high as I would have liked. But this marriage can change things for me. For our family.”

  “You really think it would make a difference?”

  He nodded. “I’d have a better shot at keeping my office with the help of the Voss’ and their generosity.”

  “I hate politics,” I shot back, irritated. “I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked of me. This is one thing I don’t want to do.”

  “You refused to attend grad school. I’d already paid the tuition when you told me you wanted to drop out and take a year off to think about what you wanted to do with your life. Marrying into the Vos family will give your life purpose, and it will help our family maintain our standing as one of the great American families.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Great American families? We’re not the Kennedys, Daddy. Be serious.”

  “But we could be. This is a chance to maintain our legacy.”

  “Your legacy,” I challenged.

  His mouth twisted in anger. “You were always a difficult child, Isabella. I thought we had an understanding. For your life to have purpose, you have to make something of yourself.”

  “And you think being the wife of a billionaire is going to be the answer to all of our problems?”

  He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, turning his head away from me. The weird thing about my father was that he never raised his voice in an argument. His voice remained calm and level.

  “Would you at least meet Karl and consider going on a date with him? He’s a good man. You will like him. He’ll treat you well and give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

  Except love. He could never have my heart. Because it already belonged to Stephan. It always belonged to him.

  I let out a frustrated sigh. “Is that what it will take to get you off my back?”

  He flashed a closed-mouth smile as if he’d won a game. “Yes, it would.”

  I wasn’t playing his game, whether I went on the stupid date with the rich kid or not. In his world, women were pawns he could move across a board. I was done being used by him. Fathers were supposed to love and support their children, not hand them over to the most eligible bachelor for the right price.

  This was about more than a marriage into one of the wealthiest families in the world. It was about my father’s pride. He couldn’t stand to lose. What he hadn’t realized was he’d already lost, whether he won the election or not. He couldn’t force me to marry Karl Vos. I didn’t care if Karl would buy me a private island and the jet to take me there. No amount of money could buy my love or me.

  “I’m not going through with a marriage. Setting us up on a date will be a waste of both of our times.”

  “You don’t know that. Just give him a chance. You might think otherwise after you spend some time together.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  He gave me a sideways stare. “What do you want to know?”

  “What kind of people are we?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “I don’t understand your question, Isabella.”

  “You’re still friends with Giovanni DeLuca, even though you pretend to hate him.”

  “That was a statement not a question,” he countered, not the least bit amused.

  “Why are you still friends with him when I’m not allowed to even speak to his sons?”

  “Because a man like Gio has his uses. His children do not. I don’t want you anywhere near his sons.”

  I clenched my fists under the desk, trying to hide my anger. Like my father, I could pretend nothing bothered me, even though I was crumbling on the inside. “What uses does Gio have?”

  He shoved a hand through his dark hair and sighed, looking away from me. “That’s none of your business, Isabella. There are certain parts of my life I don’t need to discuss with my children.”

  I folded my hands on the desk in front of me, giving him a defiant smirk. “Then, I guess we’re done here.”

  “I’ll be here late tonight. Think about meeting with Karl. I know you will see things my way. One way or another, you will serve your purpose to this family.”

  My mouth fell open in shock from his words. What kind of father spoke to their child this way? It was hard to like him when he was like this, let alone feel anything closely resembling love.

  I knew what my father was trying to tell me without saying it aloud. He would force me if I didn’t go through with the arranged marriage to Karl.

  How could he force me to say the vows? I was sure he wo
uld find a way to make me cooperate. When the great and powerful Senator Parisi wanted something, he made it happen. And he would find a way to win his election, with or without me.

  He glared at me over his shoulder with his hand on the doorknob. “I know you’ll come around. You always do.”

  Not this time.

  The halls were empty, save for a few people working on last-minute projects in their cubicles. I said my goodbyes on my way to the vending machine. At the end of the day, I made it a point to grab a soda for the ride home, and then would exit through the rear door to the parking lot. My dad’s office was around the bend, all by itself.

  From this part of the building, no one could overhear his conversations, which was why I thought it was odd when I heard him arguing with someone. He was shouting at someone in Italian, and yet he pretended as though he couldn’t speak a word. That was strange, but then again, everything my father had ever told me seemed to be a lie. I had no idea when he was telling me the truth. Every word he spoke was to gain an advantage, another way to cement his place in government and in my life.

  The rage in his tone sent shivers down my spine. Creeping toward my dad’s office, I clutched the soda bottle in my hand, afraid to make a sound. The closer I got to his door the louder the voices grew.

  “You promised to handle the situation for me,” my dad said, now in English. “Do I need to remind you why you’re still in my life?”

  “I think it’s you who needs the reminder, Senator.” It was Stephan’s voice emanating from the room. Wait, no… it was his father. They had the same pitch, only Stephan’s voice was slightly deeper, more like a growl.

  What was he doing here? It had been days since I’d last heard from Stephan, and now Giovanni was in my father’s office, attempting to intimidate him. He underestimated my father. No one and nothing got under his skin. Because he was always two steps ahead of everyone.

  “Why is Chris Rizzoli still breathing?”