Merciless King: A Hero Club Novel

by Ellie Jean

  Two cars in front of Nizo slow down and request access through an iron gate.

  “What’s this place?” Leaning forward, I notice armed guards at the entrance. “Where the fuck are we?”

  Heat courses through my body with a surge of anger, clenching my hands and jaw, my gut’s telling me this isn’t about the fight. I’m ready to burst out of the car until someone tells me what the fuck is going on, but all the cars start to move through the gate.

  “We have very important things we need to discuss with you. And we needed it done here.”

  My trainer slowly drives behind the cars until we stop in front of a huge double door. The rest of the cars park farther down.

  “What fucking things?” My nostrils flare and my veins twitch. Sal gets out, Nizo turns and glares at me. It would send any other man to the ground. I watch him carefully for a few seconds then get out before I can’t be responsible for my actions.

  “Come, Chuck.” Sal motions for me to follow him up the path. Opening the steel doors, the grandeur and wealth of the mansion indicates someone of influence lives here. It doesn’t go unnoticed Sal just walks straight on in.

  Calming my breath so I can control the turbulence brewing inside, I scan the surroundings. Expensive old furniture makes the house look lived in. Massive paintings hang on the white walls. Large crimson curtains drape from the floor to ceiling windows showering us with some light. No one else enters the space.

  “Follow me.” Nizo shuts the door and heads up the marble staircase to the left. “We need to chat.”

  “Damn straight we do.” My body tenses with each step up behind Nizo. Sal stays close behind me. Sweat starts to pool on my brow and if I didn’t know these guys like family, I’d be fucking worried they were going to ‘off’ me. Tense and rigid, Nizo is dressed in a suit today and not the usual training attire and Sal isn’t his normal, joke-telling self.

  A wide, long corridor comes into view, and multiple closed doors adorn either side. Walking fast-paced past two, we enter the last without stopping.

  Beeping hits my ears.

  Slow, rhythmic and dull.

  Nizo moves farther into the room and I follow. Sal shuts the door quietly behind us.

  Bouncing my eyes around the room, dark, wooden furniture stands proud in the corner, there’s a few artworks on the wall but the light is dimmed so it’s hard to make out what they are of. My hands twitch at my side and my breathing is faster than moments before.

  Impatiently, I sneer, “Why am I here?” Trying to unkink my neck, I move it side to side. It’s not working. My entire muscular system is stiff. Searching for answers since the men aren’t talking, I walk in farther and move to my left. Lifting my chin, the fucking annoying beep catches my attention again and I look at the men I have known now for many years sympathetically gazing at something to their right.

  Doing a round of the room, behind them, to their right is a small cove and in it I see the end of a bed. Scrubbing my hand over my face, I cross the room. My heart beats hard in my chest and tension fills the large space. My brain is fuzzy and I have no fucking clue what I am doing here.

  Not a word is spoken.

  Lying in the bed is a large man, strapped to a machine and other tubes. His eyes are closed and the small amount of stubble on his face is dark. A tube enters his hand and cords run across his body, under the blankets, probably monitoring his heart if I were to guess.

  Flicking my confused gaze to Sal, they both are looking reverently at this dark-haired stranger who appears to be breathing by himself.

  “Someone better start talking ‘cause I have no fucking clue what the hell I am doing here and who the fuck this guy is.” Crossing my arms, my feet are solid on the floor waiting. Sweat starts to form across my back, making it tingle. Unsure of where to look, I plaster my stare on Sal.

  A breathless voice disrupts the silence of the room. “Is this him?”

  Whipping my head back across, light gray eyes penetrate me.

  “Chuck?” I’m being scrutinized by the stranger.

  I stand still, unsure what to do or where else to look. It appears I am the intruder here. I’m in an unknown house where everyone knows each other.

  “We’ve brought him to you, Tomme. Like you asked.” Two of the most loyal men I know fade into the background of the room with quietened steps.

  “What do you want from me?” Curiosity is getting the better of me but my gut is flipping, advising me to get the hell out of here.

  “You, my son.”

  Caroline

  Am I spoiled?

  Yes.

  Do I take what I want?

  Yes.

  Will I take no, can’t, won’t, for an answer?

  No.

  Am I demanding?

  Yes.

  And I’m so fucking bored with how my life is.

  A ripple of adrenaline winds itself around my toes, shooting straight up my entire body to the tips of my ears.

  This changed last night.

  No guy has ever affected me the way Chuck has.

  Lying on my Charlotte Thomas bed sheets, my skin tingles thinking back to the hours spent last night where each nerve ending was tantalized by the touch of the only man who’s had a lasting effect on me. I know it’s only been six hours since I slipped out of the Manhattan apartment and drove a few minutes away to my luxurious condo but even with Dexter, I would walk away and nothing was memorable about it.

  Chuck though…

  Each feather light touch after we shattered violently and noisily together multiple times makes me shudder. His warm breath sweeping across my cheek when he leaned in to nip my neck and shoulders makes my toes curl. The weight of his body pressed against mine trapping me against the hard floor perfectly, ignites the burn wrapping itself around my body over the past lonely hours. My pussy aches after the hard ride given by Chuck’s long, thick cock but more from the need for him to be back inside me.

  Each second my mind wanders back to last night.

  I’d gone out seeking a quick release. But got so much more.

  And what I want, I get.

  This will be no different.

  But is it something I really want? It’s not like me to fall for a man instantly. Is it his dark eyes? His sexy body? How he fucks? His easy-going attitude?

  “Crap.” Pulling myself up from the bed, I’d forgotten I promised to meet up with my dad at one of his malls this afternoon. As much as he’s a hard ass at work and a billionaire, I have to give him credit. He never lost sight of the big picture within his buildings; the consumers. Random inspections, incognito and without notice is the best way he found to get a true picture of how his malls are running and how his staff are working.

  My cell rings right on cue.

  “Yes Dad. I’m on my way.” Well, nearly…

  He doesn’t have to know I still have to get a fresh set of clothes on which don’t smell of spectacular sex. “I’ll meet you there.”

  At fifty-six years of age, he knows me better than anyone. I’m busy running around week days looking for new stock and up-and-coming trends and my PA organizes me. The weekend is a different thing. Off the clock usually, Dad knows to give me the half hour warning to get my ass there on time. He hates waiting, a trait I get from him. The passion for his business is evident, but one I don’t share. But, being the dutiful daughter, it’s expected I’d follow being the only child.

  I shouldn’t complain, and I don’t openly. It’s a good paying job, with family perks of course. I have status in society and am the talk of the town occasionally. Enough to remind the NYC socialites and heavyweights, I am royalty.

  Rich and desirable.

  Sensual and ruthless.

  And have my own mind and opinion.

  Casually dressed in my blue jeans and sweater top, it takes me all of thirty minutes to arrive.

  “Hi Dad.” Kissing him on both cheeks, we both look inconspicuous in our plain attire. No suits, jackets or heels today. The la
ck of makeup feels liberating. “Traffic was good.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Linking elbows, Dad starts his walk into the first building that started his empire. “Come on, let’s get this done so we can get on with our afternoon.”

  Looking more like my sugar daddy, possibly a lot like my past relationships, I smile and nod to other shoppers. Some may think they recognize us, but we keep moving.

  “Are we conversing today or mingling?” Watching eagerly how people flow through the walkways, taking note of the soft upbeat music being played and how they are responding to it is part of today’s venture. Trying to spot areas of concern that make our clients’ shopping experience challenging is what these walk throughs are all about.

  “Let’s mingle today. See if we can detect any improvements needed.” Dad weaves us past the cafe. I could do with a hot chocolate but since we haven’t inspected a quarter of it yet, I know I will be shot down in flames if I ask to stop.

  “Sounds good to me.” My eyes watch and I focus again on why we are here.

  Taking note of small potential problems, chatting and scanning for the next fifty minutes, today’s been good. Not too many issues, no major concerns and overall it’s been fast.

  “Are you ready for a break yet?” Standing in front of one of my favorite doughnut places of all time, my mouth waters looking at the round, glazed and sugar-coated parcels of heaven. “I sure could do with a rest.” After the fun of last night, my body is starting to droop in exhaustion.

  “Sure. Let’s get one of those jelly filled creations we both like so much.” Pulling out my seat, I sit and look up at my dad. Idolizing him for so long, I would be lost without him.

  “Do you want one of those hot chocolates, with the whipped cream and sprinkles on top as well?” He still thinks I’m five years old.

  “Just the hot chocolate with skim milk will be fine, thanks Dad.” I shake my head at my request. A jelly filled chocolate doughnut with a drizzle of caramel floating down the sides of the meringue dollop, and I ask for skim milk. I have to be good somewhere. I only eat like this when I am with my father. He has an uncanny way of allowing me to be who I am, in whatever situation I am in. We both morph into other beings when the need arises.

  With his back to me, his shoulders are still broad and there is no hint of any old age setting in yet. Keeping yourself active must be the way to go when you’re older, because he would run circles around me even now. Glancing at my phone, I have a few missed calls and messages from suppliers. Even on a Sunday, there is no respite. My mind wanders to early this morning when I thought about waking Chuck so I could ask him his phone number but I wouldn’t. It was a one-night stand. Well, it was supposed to be, but from my end, I hope not.

  A waft of air pushes past me, making me look up. Two men in dark suits approach my dad who is ordering and probably boring her to death with some story or another. Dad’s security start to move within seconds next to him and I push my chair back ready to run toward them all. I’m firmly held in place by a large hand. “You should be helping Dad, not worrying about me.”

  Casually, I see my father’s head turn and look at me before holding up his hand for his men to step away from him. My guy stands his ground. The original two men don’t flinch at the security. Hushed words are exchanged in a short, but jaw clenching three minutes before Dad returns with a normal smile on his face.

  “What’s that all about?” My hands grasp the edge of the table and my eyes search the area for any sign of impending trouble. But there’s no one and nothing out of place. Even the girl serving is getting on with her normal routine.

  “Sit down, Caroline. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “You don’t think two strange, huge men surrounding you is a cause for concern? Even your security thought there was a problem.” I sit down, but my heart is leaping in my chest in fright. I’m no stranger to always being alert. Being kidnapped because I was a rich child always at the forefront of my mind growing up, was the biggest fear for my mom and dad.

  “They’re old acquaintances who spotted me and wanted to say a quick hello, that’s all.” Sitting across from me, I don’t miss the strained posture of his hands and shoulders. He’s keeping something from me. I’ve seen men like this before hanging around and they usually mean they want something from him. His connections run far, wide and deep within dark corners he shouldn’t be dealing with. We’ve had too many discussions on this subject to remember, but being the stubborn ass he is, he does what he wants no matter how much I beg him to end his ties with the underworld. He doesn’t need anything from them and he has more money than any human can need. I honestly don’t get him.

  “I won’t push you any further because I don’t want to ruin our together time and our doughnuts are on their way, but I want details when we are in the office tomorrow.”

  A bright-eyed girl places the balls of heaven on our table and leaves to get our drinks.

  “There’s nothing more to tell.” Dipping his spoon into the soft center, he adds, “End of discussion.”

  Heaving in a breath, I decide to give up for now because it will get me nowhere, plus my mouth is watering, ready for heaven to hit my taste buds.

  I will deal with this issue tomorrow.

  Chuck

  Every fiber of sinew is constricting like a thick rubber band. My muscles seize, rendering me useless. No number of blows have brought me to this kind of paralysis before.

  Wide-eyed, I look at the man who is now completely sitting up holding out his hand to me. The ornate gold ring perched on his bony pinky finger like it means something catches hold of a tiny fragment of light gracing the dimly lit room. It is enough to wake me from this… absurd nightmare.

  “Sal? Nizo? What is this?” My mouth’s dry and my eyes don’t leave the unknown man in front of me. Authority and power roll off him in waves even though his body is in a weakened state. His thick shoulders, broad neck, square jaw and long limbs showcase the strength this man has.

  No response has me moving a step back.

  “Ciro…” Firm and authoritative, his icy gray orbs stare into me.

  On alert, my body doesn’t move, but my mind whirls. This sick guy has been brought the wrong man. “No. Sorry. You have the wrong guy.” Moving slowly backward, my head turns to look at the two men I trust with my career, fuck… with my life.

  Nizo raises his hand in a stop motion and Sal pins me with his harsh look. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve so many piercing cold eyes to spear at me.

  “Don’t turn your back on your Capo.” Sal’s words are harsh but quiet.

  Did Caroline slip me some cocaine or LSD last night? Because this scene in front of me is making no sense at all. “What the fuck are you talking about? Has everyone gone insane?” Agitation is spiraling through my legs, keeping me from standing still. My hands ball at my side. “My name is Chuck. I don’t belong to any crime syndicate, I am a maintenance worker. I don’t have a Capo and I am a boxer who is going to unleash unbridled fury if I am not taken out of here or someone starts explaining what the fuck is going on.” Trying to keep my voice level, it’s my turn to scrutinize everyone.

  “Ciro… Chuck.” The ill man voices my correct name with contempt while raising his hand to Sal and Nizo. “I will explain everything. Come and take a seat. Sal, Nizo, come.”

  “I will stand.” Looking down at this man gives me the upperhand in this discussion and a quick getaway if needed.

  Nodding his head, he waits for my team, which he knows their names, to stand on either side of me like I’m standing in a courtroom with my lawyers ready to be sentenced for a crime I didn’t commit.

  Heaving in a deep breath, the blanket rises with his chest. The heat in my body is about to surge from me at any moment. My knuckles are white and ready for anything.

  “My name is Tomme Basilio. I am the Boss of our Basilio family. Your family and the other three families in New York. Sal is my Consigliere with Nizo being a very loyal part
of our family.” Stopping to take a breath, he coughs and composes himself before taking another breath. I realize my head is pounding harder with each word and my hands are starting to cramp.

  “Your birth name is Ciro Basilio. Your mother’s name is Fiorella Sansone. You live in Manhattan in an apartment. Your mother lives not far from you in a private dwelling, with a small garden and white picket fence. You had a golden retriever named Baron until he died with heart complications. Should I go on?”

  Did a lightning bolt strike my skin? I was burning. Energy flowed through my limbs ready to pounce. A tender look fleets across his face for a second before it returns to concrete.

  “And I am your father.”

  All three men look at me. There isn’t concern or empathy. There is pride and power revolving in all of their eyes. Yet, I can’t feel anything. Even the heat has stopped. A numbness has set in, crept through my tissues, replacing the taut rubber bands from mere minutes ago.

  My father was dead. Killed in a tragic work-related incident, Mother had said. I didn’t know him, hadn’t heard his voice, never saw him. There were no photos around the house when I was growing up, no slide shows showcasing me with my father when I was born or on my twenty-first. He’d died before I was a year old. My aunt, my mother’s sister Emilia, the only other living relative.

  Sal placed his hand on my shoulder, and I let him.

  For a second before I bucked it off.

  “My name is Chuck Sansone.” Loud and clear, I spoke my name again. “My father is dead.” I’m unsure who I’m trying to convince by yelling, but it echoed around the room and bounced right back around again.

  “Your mother told you I was dead. It was necessary at the time, but now we need you, Ciro. I need you. The family needs you.”

  Nizo pushes a few buttons on the beeping machine and this man, who calls himself my father, spasmodically coughs again.

  “You have the wrong person. I am a heavyweight boxer, not a mafia made man. My world is building maintenance and training for my next fight.” Turning on my heels, I need air. My throat constricts with an invisible rope tightening around it. These words aren’t true. “I’m sorry I’m not the person you’re looking for.” Walking with my shoulders square, not like I’ve been hit in the head by a thousand bricks, I reach for the door handle.