The Devil's Crown-Part One: All The Pretty Things Trilogy Spin-Off

by Monica James

  “He doesn’t know who your allies are. Whoever you have on your side is loyal, and he hates that.”

  “Allies?” I shake my head with a sad grin. “I don’t have very many of them anymore. I am merely a shadow of who I once was.”

  Renata shrugs, leaning against the counter. “If that were true, then why is he so desperate to find you? Why is he trying to be you?”

  As I continue chopping the vegetables for our meal, I realize Renata has given me food for thought. I never saw it that way. He is making a name off me because he is nothing. I may now be poor and everyone’s enemy, but it seems I still have social standing. It gives me hope that when I find Serg and kill him, I can claim back what’s mine without any pushback.

  “Raul told me Serg is living in your shadow,” she reveals. “That he wishes he was you. He doesn’t respect him. I think that’s the reason he had no issues going behind Serg’s back.”

  Renata’s overshare is my gain. I don’t know why she feels compelled to tell me this, but whatever the reason, I don’t question it. “Raul doesn’t respect me either,” I explain. “That’s what happens when you murder someone’s father.”

  Renata doesn’t seem surprised by this fact, which means Raul told her. “He wants you dead, yes, but in regards to who he respects more…” She pauses and shrugs, leaving her comment open for discussion.

  My cell rings, interrupting a conversation that has given me a lot to think about. Wiping my hands on a tea towel, I reach into my pocket and see the caller is Pavel.

  This isn’t a social call. When Pavel calls, it’s usually because he has work. I answer, keeping it brief as I know Renata is listening.

  Pavel has a job lined up. A family I know well is looking to buy three hundred semi-automatics rifles, hand guns, and grenades. They want them tonight.

  “Are you in?” Pavel asks when I don’t give him an answer.

  This is a big job, and a lot of money is at stake if I say no. But I have a problem, and that’s Renata. What am I supposed to do with her?

  “Yes,” I finally reply.

  He gives me directions and a time, and then the line goes dead.

  With a sigh, I slip my cell back into my pocket.

  Renata is watching me closely as she plays with the locket around her neck. She knows something is amiss. I want to believe she won’t run if I leave her, but I know she will. We may be speaking civilly, but I don’t mistake this for anything other than another ploy of hers.

  “So, respect,” I commence, referring to our conversation before Pavel called as I turn to look at her. “I will respect you as long as you do the same.”

  She nods quickly, too quickly, setting off alarm bells. I thought I had more time, but the test starts now.

  “Good,” I commend, folding my arms across my chest. “I feel I’ve been more than respectful toward you.” Before she has a chance to scoff, I continue. “I brought you here when I could have left you in the woods. I allowed you to shower. I covered your modesty. And now, I am preparing us a meal.”

  She slowly backs away from me, unsure where I’m going with this.

  “As I see it, it’s now your turn to reciprocate.”

  “How?”

  She is nervous. Good.

  Without hesitation, I order, “Kneel.”

  She scoffs as if I’m joking. But when I deadpan her, she soon realizes I am not.

  “What the hell? No!” she exclaims, shaking her head.

  Chuckling, I counter, “Bless you for thinking this is optional.”

  She moves further away, her eyes never leaving mine. “I am not fucking kneeling. I’m done being someone’s prisoner.”

  Clucking my tongue, I remain rigid, allowing her to think she has a head start. “Who said anything about being a prisoner? This is a sign of respect. I bowed to you, not in the literal sense, and now, I want you to bow to me.”

  “Why?” she asks, her voice cracking. She looks rather lovely in her blue dress. After my encounter with Sister Arabella earlier today, I can’t deny I have a lot of steam I need to blow off. But not like this.

  “Because this will show me that you’ll do what you’re told.” I know she’d rather cut off her arm than submit again, but she’s coming to learn obeying me makes things easier. She’s hungry, tired, and the fight in her is simmering.

  I expect her to reach for the door handle and try to make a run for it, but she doesn’t. This is hardly her surrendering completely, but it’s progress. With a scowl, she drops to her knees slowly. If looks could kill, I’d be a smoldering pile of ashes, but I take it because what I see is utterly exquisite.

  I’ve forgotten the euphoria experienced with submission, especially when a stubborn, beautiful woman like Renata submits. I take my time, examining the sight before me, and suddenly, I wish I had another beside Renata.

  Sister Arabella is also stubborn and fiery. I know I promised to leave her be, but one can fantasize.

  It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman. Something which was at my disposal whenever I wanted it is now a distant memory. But Renata presented this way has me wondering if she just may, in fact, break me.

  “Now what?” she asks, licking her lips nervously.

  Walking over to her leisurely, I savor the way she anticipates my next move, and I can’t deny it excites me. The leader I once was is basking in the power. I think back to seeing her naked. I know what lies beneath that flimsy dress.

  Standing before her, I gently cup her chin and run my thumb along her bottom lip. “How old are you, малышка?”

  Her lip quivers with my touch. “Twenty-five,” she replies, attempting to conceal the nervousness to her tone.

  “You’re merely a child,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m almost double your age. An old man compared to you.”

  She doesn’t reply. But she doesn’t need to speak. The way she responds to my touch speaks volumes.

  Seeing her this way has memories of Willow smashing into me. The resemblance is uncanny. I am fond of Renata because of this. Usually, I wouldn’t lower my guard as I have with her, but looking into those blue eyes has me melting under their stare.

  Running my thumb along the column of her throat, I watch the way her body grows lax. Beneath her tough exterior, she wants to submit. The thought of spending the next three weeks with her suddenly doesn’t seem so bad.

  But I need to focus.

  This prejudice is only because of Willow. I need to remember why she’s here.

  Circling over her pulse, I run my finger along the thin chain at her neck. Opening the locket, I see there is a photo of a dog inside. No mother? Sister? Boyfriend?

  I remove my hand, watching the way she sags forward, appearing to be under a spell. This is dangerous ground we both tread. “Once we finish eating, I need to take care of some business. Can I trust you to stay here unsupervised?”

  My voice seems to snap her from her stupor as she fumbles to close the locket. “Yes. We want the same thing,” she says. “Besides, I don’t know where I am. To get my revenge, I have to work with you. You’re the lesser of two evils.”

  I examine her closely to see if I can detect any cracks on the surface. I have to trust she is telling me the truth. We’re not there yet, but unless I tie her up again, I have to listen to my gut. “If you run,” I commence, cupping her chin and arching her head backward, “I will find you. And when I do, I won’t be so tolerant. Understood?”

  She nods slowly.

  Releasing her, I go back to preparing our meal. I wonder if I’ve made the right choice. The smart thing to do would be to tie her up. But this is a test. To gain her trust, I have to reciprocate with trust. This won’t work otherwise.

  However, as Renata stays on her knees, watching me prepare us a meal, I realize if this works, then I’m surely screwed.

  I pull my SUV up by the curb. Pavel waits for me in his van by the mansion gates. This transaction isn’t operating under the guise of darkness. The Macrillo family h
as most of Russia on their payroll. No one would dare to double-cross them.

  We had a mutual respect for one another when I was top dog. We stayed out of each other’s business because while my specialty was drugs, the Macrillo family dealt in weaponry. We coexisted because we were never a threat or competition to one another.

  But now, that respect is no longer.

  Pavel reaches out of his window and presses the intercom, announcing our arrival. A moment later, the gates swing open. Nostalgia sweeps over me when the impressive white mansion comes into full view. The manicured grounds are immaculate, a must for any upstanding household to have. It’s the first thing a visitor sees. First impressions last.

  I follow Pavel up the driveway and toward the house. Once we’ve parked, Pavel exits his van and opens the side door. I’m here to help him unload his goods because three hundred pieces of heavy artillery is exactly that—heavy.

  Slipping on my sunglasses, I open my door and commence unloading the duffel bags from Pavel’s van. It’s a nice change not having to look over our shoulders. The Macrillo family doesn’t want trouble. They just want their arsenal.

  In total, there are four bags. Pavel and I carry two each toward the marbled entrance. We don’t have a chance to ring the bell before the front doors open, and we’re greeted by Santino Macrillo—the head of the family.

  “Ciao,” he says with a smile.

  Santino was born in Sicily, where the Macrillo family name had no standing. But that soon changed when Santino realized he was destined for great things. He annihilated all his competitors, and once he had taken over Italy, he decided Russia was next on the agenda when he met his now wife, Mila.

  Santino has four boys—all of whom have taken after their father.

  In short, you don’t fuck with this family.

  “Hello, Santo,” Pavel says casually as though he’s greeting an old friend. But people like Santino don’t have friends.

  I guess that’s where we differed.

  Santino looks my way. I’m accustomed to the looks of pity on the faces of my former equals. They see me as nothing but pathetic. That it would have been better if I had died that night in the field. But Santino is different.

  I don’t see pity. I see interest.

  “Ciao, Santo. Come stai?” I ask how he is in his native tongue.

  “I am good, my old friend. And you?”

  “Living the dream,” I reply with sarcasm, taking off my glasses.

  Santo laughs as he welcomes us into his home.

  I’ve been here once before when one of Santo’s sons, Lorenzo, got engaged. It was a grand affair, but nothing less was expected. The foyer itself is about twice the size of my home.

  We don’t say a word and follow Santo as he leads us through the hallways and into his office. Everything is decorated in gold. This space is to once again display Santo’s wealth. Like anyone would forget. And when I notice him continuing to look at me, I begin to wonder why I’m really here.

  “Place everything there,” he instructs, gesturing to the bar. We do as he says.

  He opens the bottom drawer of his wooden desk and tosses a black duffel onto the polished surface. “You can count it,” he casually offers.

  Pavel shakes his head as he reaches for the bag. “No need.”

  That’s how business operates with men like Santo and Pavel. Their word is enough. If they were to ever go back on their word, then many would pay with their heads.

  Pavel shoulders the duffel, hinting it’s time to leave. However, Santo walks over to the bar and reaches for a bottle of scotch. “Aleksei, will you have a drink with me?”

  The offer isn’t extended to Pavel. Only me.

  “Of course,” I agree. Pavel nods his farewell to me. There is a man standing at the door, waiting to escort Pavel outside.

  When he’s gone, Santo gestures for me to close the door as he pours us our drinks. I do as he asks.

  This is Santo’s domain, and I will respect him and whatever is headed my way. He offers me the crystal glass. I accept, cherishing the feel of good crystal in my hand because it’s been a while.

  “I have a proposition for you, Aleksei,” Santo commences, not bothering to sugarcoat why I’m here.

  I drink my scotch, waiting for him to continue.

  “You were here when my eldest Lorenzo got engaged, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, I was. It was a joyous occasion,” I reply with a nod.

  “That it was. His wife is a wonderful woman. Did you know three of my sons are now married?”

  “I did.” I have no idea where he is going with this, but I soon find out.

  “My youngest, Francesco, he was to be married in three months’ time. To a…foreigner,” he reveals with a disapproving scoff. “I told him she was not right for him. But my Frank, he is stubborn, just like his papa.”

  “I suppose one cannot help who they fall in love with.”

  Santo sips his drink, appearing to mull over my words. “This is true. I can’t blame him. She is an absolute beauty.”

  “The dangerous ones usually are,” I say from experience.

  Santo laughs, understanding my personal response. He soon turns serious however. “She promised me she loved him and understood what becoming a part of this family meant. But she lied, Aleksei.”

  I finish my drink, needing a moment to process what he’s just disclosed.

  “She broke Frank’s heart when she decided she no longer wanted to marry him. She betrayed this family. And for that, she must pay.”

  This poor woman is living on borrowed time. No one betrays the Macrillo family and lives to tell the tale.

  “Loyalty is hard to come by, Santo. Believe me, I know this firsthand,” I share as he knows of my story. He knows what was done to me and what I did, which is why we’re having this conversation.

  He knows what I did to my best friends. He knows I had no qualms about killing them.

  “Yes, you, my friend, have experienced a similar betrayal. I hate to see you this way. Your place is rightfully on top, but it was stolen from you…which is why I want to help you.”

  He gestures to fill up my empty glass, but I wave him off. He has something I want. And I have something he wants—I just don’t know what that is yet.

  “Serg is a parasite. Quite frankly, he is a disgrace to our world. I want him gone as he has caused nothing but problems for me and many of my colleagues.”

  I keep my emotion under key because I still don’t know what Santo wants.

  “I will find your brother and deliver him to you, and once you’re back where you belong, I will help you stay there. It won’t be easy. Alliances have divided, and as it stands, no one wants to do business with you. But I can change that. I will ensure your name is once again feared and respected.”

  He is offering me everything I desire on a silver platter. But what’s the catch?

  “In return, I ask that you find that whore who betrayed this family and bring her to me. I would do it myself, but Frank, the sentimental fool, still loves her. I need this to be discreet. No one in the family can know of this, which is why I’ve come to you, old friend.

  “This needs to be an outside job. If Frank were to ever find out, he’d never forgive me.”

  Piece by piece, I come to understand my role.

  Santo could do this himself, but the Macrillos are a tightknit family, so Frank would eventually find out. This needs to be done by an outsider.

  The prospect of Santo delivering Serg to me is most appealing. I already have a date with destiny in three weeks, thanks to Renata, but his help is imperative. I need “friends” now more than ever.

  Thinking over my options, I decide that whether Santo delivers me Serg or Renata does, the result is the same. Serg will pay with his life. If I find this woman before the meeting with Serg and Raul is to take place, then I will still have a date with Raul three weeks from now.

  He must also pay for siding with the wrong brother.

&n
bsp; As I see it, I can’t lose. Santo is someone I need on my side. And you don’t say no to Santo.

  “Of course, I don’t expect you to do this without payment. Would a hundred thousand dollars be enough?”

  And that’s the bounty Santo has on this woman’s head.

  I think of what that money could do for me and for the orphanage. But agreeing means I’m condemning an innocent woman to death. I promised I wouldn’t do that again, but is the life of a stranger more important than mine? Of that of the orphaned children?

  God forgive me.

  “Make it a hundred and fifty and we’ve got a deal.”

  Santo smirks, enjoying the challenge. “Excellent. I will compile all the information I have on her. Give me a couple of days? I need to be cautious.”

  Nodding, I understand his concerns. His sons are involved in all aspects of his business. He needs to ensure no one uncovers his plans.

  The conversation is over, so I don’t prolong the inevitable. “Very well. Call me when you’re ready.”

  Santo is absolutely pleased to do business with me. And why wouldn’t he? He knows I won’t stop until I find her. What he’s offering is everything I’ve fought for these past eighteen months.

  “Oh, Aleksei,” he adds, walking toward his desk. “Be careful. Her beauty has blinded many.”

  I sense hurt in his comment. Could it be Santo was the one blinded? This is personal—but just not the way I thought.

  Whatever the reason, it’s not my concern. I have a job to do. And that’s what this woman is—a job.

  “Not to worry, Santo. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  Santo nods, opening the drawer. He places five stacks of hundred-dollar bills onto the desk. This is my down payment—merely pocket change for a man like him. He then places the money into a black plastic bag and pushes it toward me.

  We’re done. For now.

  Without anything further to say, I accept his offering and leave. Following Santo’s bodyguard, who waits outside the door, I exit through the front door and walk to my SUV calmly. Tossing the bag onto the passenger seat, I get behind the wheel and commence my drive toward the open gates.