King of Masters by Brynn Ford

CHAPTER 27

Murphy

“THERE'D BETTER BE a damn good reason this slave boy disturbed me and my wife,” I bellow down the hall as I come upon the chaotic scene.

“Anya demands to speak with you, Murphy,” Renata says without looking at me as I approach.

“Are you fucking—” I groan. “What the fuck is going on here?”

Anya Mikhailov is on her knees in the middle of the hallway, still wearing her soft pink lace and tulle gown from this evening. Her kneeling there is strange enough, but it’s the gun in her hands aimed steadily at Renata that really rounds out the crazy.

I pause and take a moment to enjoy the look of terror in Renata’s expression, though she fights to hide it—but no one can hide fear from their eyes. She has every reason to be terrified that Anya might actually shoot her. After all, Anya did demonstrate her swift determination when she murdered Renata’s brother, Vigo, three months ago.

If that weren’t enough, Renata holds Anya’s lover, Ezra, hostage as a slave—that boy also oddly placed in my hallway. Clad only in his underwear, he kneels behind Anya with bound hands.

Anya looks fierce there on her knees, a forcefield of protective energy radiating around her and Ezra like an invisible shield. I would never underestimate the willingness of a desperate woman when it comes to protecting those she loves.

Of course…

Fuck.

Anya is in love with Ezra.

Understanding of the inconclusive DNA result clicks inside my mind, and I feel idiotically oblivious that I hadn’t immediately made the connection. The result of whether Nikolai Mikhailov was the father of Anya’s child was inconclusive because he’s not the father.

The child belongs to Ezra.

How could I be so stupid as to not realize that before?

I’ve been so distracted, so preoccupied with taming Stella that my mind hasn’t been focused on my work. My harsh business instincts have faded as humanity and empathy sneakily crept back into my heart because of her…because of Stella.

She’s more powerful than she’ll ever realize.

But in this moment, none of that matters. I need to deescalate and avoid bloodshed—we had enough of that at the last quarterly meeting.

Anya speaks, though she doesn’t look at me as her eyes remain solidly focused on Renata. “Renata has attempted to kill the Mikhailov talent slave. She claimed he attacked and raped her, and I know she’s lying. I will not have it, Murphy. There is no replacement for his talent, and we will not break the tradition of the four families just before my turn to host the quarterly meeting because of her false accusation. This is my chance to prove myself worthy of my name, and I will not have her taking the life of our talent slave over a lie. It’s unacceptable.”

“You’re quite the princess, aren’t you?” I say beside her, huffing out a heavy breath.

“He raped me, Murphy,” Renata accuses. “He attacked me and Luca and then he raped me! I want him dead.”

My annoyance ticks at the sound of her voice. “Oh, fuck off. We both know that’s not fucking true. This isn’t the first time you’ve cried wolf to get a slave killed.”

“I never—”

“Shut your mouth, Renata. Our family has been putting security cameras in Vittori family guest rooms for over a decade of meetings that we’ve hosted. Your family is always causing problems. Keep talking if you want me to go look at the footage from your room. Always fucking causing trouble, fucking Vittoris.”

I rub my hand over my beard, pausing to think. I’m gonna have a bloody mess to clean up if I let Anya return to Italy in Renata’s care. One of them will kill the other and we can’t afford to lose either of them.

“Let us stay here…” Anya says, “under the care of the O’Sheas. I no longer feel safe with the Vittoris. If she puts Ezra’s life at risk, the stress it causes me could be detrimental to the health of my baby. The four families can’t afford to lose my child. Give me and Ezra shelter here and send the Vittoris home tonight. The safety of the Mikhailov heir has been threatened.”

“I’ve made no such threat to your child’s safety!” Renata marches toward Anya. “You’re the one pointing a gun!”

“A gun you meant to have Ezra killed with! A gun Lorenzo nearly shot me in the stomach with because of your lies!”

“Ladies,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, “I’m not in the mood for this bullshit.”

“Please, Murphy.” Anya’s voice softens and there’s something in her intonation that resonates as familiar. “I’ve been through enough. You wouldn’t put Stella through what I’ve been through. Don’t put me through more.”

If I look at Anya indirectly, I could almost say she resembles Stella. Her skin is fairer, and her long hair is brown rather than black. But the whispering, nagging part of me that begs to cement a family with Stella—the part that’s eager to see her stomach round with our child—calls my heart to find some gentleness and care for the situation Anya’s been put in.

“If I say yes, will you put the gun down?”

“If you say yes and arrange for Renata and Lorenzo to leave tonight, then I will put the gun down.”

“Christ. Call your pilot to be ready for departure within the hour,” I tell Lorenzo. “I’ll bring your gun when I have them settled. You Vittoris cause so much fucking drama.”

Anya slowly lowers her gun, but it’s clear by the way she grips it that she’s not giving it up until she feels safe. I call for Renata’s slave, Luca, to retrieve the key that will unlock the dreadful collar that’s padlocked around Ezra’s neck.

As he works on the lock, my eyes catch on Anya’s face. The way she looks at Ezra is…inspiring. She looks at him as if her heart aches for him, as if she loves him so much that she feels his pain along with him. I feel that way for Stella, and I wonder if she sees it when I look at her.

No.

I know she doesn’t, but fuck, I wish she’d look at me the way Anya looks at Ezra.

How do I make her love me that way?

When Ezra’s collar finally lands on the floor, I order the Vittoris to start packing and lead Anya and Ezra to the room she was given as our guest. She was assigned this guest room strategically. It’s close to mine and Stella’s because I knew I’d need to keep a careful watch on the rebellious girl. I let them enter the room in front of me and I shut the door behind us.

I hold out my palm for the gun. “Hand it over, lass.”

“Where will he be staying?” Her head tilts toward Ezra.

“Am I going to regret it if he stays in your room?” I’m stupid to offer it, but I don’t want the responsibility of looking after another slave. I’m giving Anya the grace of trust, but it will be painfully ripped away if she breaks it.

“You would let him stay with me?”

“It’s probably against my better judgment, but since my home is a fortress and there are extra security measures in place while my wife…adjusts to her new lot in life, I’ll allow you to keep your talent slave for now. Do you have any plans to point a gun at my head?”

“No.” She places the gun in my outstretched palm.

“Fuck, I’ve gone soft. Listen,” I point my finger at her intently, “I’m only doing this for you because Renata is on my last fucking nerve. If you test me, you will regret it. If you behave yourselves, then we won’t have a fucking problem. Understood? There is no escaping my home, so don’t even think about trying.”

She nods. “Understood.”

I turn away and reach for the doorknob, but then I pause, turning back to look at Ezra. “Do you understand what’s at stake here, slave boy? You step out of line and try to cross me, and I will hurt you in ways you never imagined.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Ezra says.

I look him up and down, his energy humming with an urge for rebellion. “I really hope you do.” I look at Anya. “Watch him. You’re responsible for his behavior. He fucks up, you’ve fucked up. And you know I’ll make you pay for it.” I pull open the door. “Lock this,” I remind them before I step out.

Once the door is shut behind me, I stop, pause, take a moment to close my eyes and breathe deeply. When I feel steady, I open my eyes and turn to head back to my room. I find Stella standing down the hall, just outside our door.

She watches me with anxiety and worry as I make my way back to her, but the simple acknowledgment of concern in her gaze wraps around me like a lasso. She tugs on that invisible rope and drags me nearer—the mere promise of her attention makes me forget the world and all its challenges. I feel relief that she’s there, that she’s waiting for me. Whether she’s angry with me or not, she’s my wife, and she’s here, and there’s peace in her presence.

“Is she okay?” Stella asks when I’m only a few steps away.

“Renata?”

“I don’t give a shit about Renata. Is Anya okay?”

I stop in front of her, reaching to cup her cheek in my palm and brush my thumb across her soft skin. “She’s fine. She is now. I invited her to stay with us.”

“You did?” Her brow furrows in sincere surprise.

I’m surprised by it myself.

“I did. She held Renata at gunpoint. It was only a matter of time before one of them killed the other. I thought it would be better to avoid the bloodshed.”

Her head tilts to the side, falling heavier into my palm. “So, you offered to let them stay?”

I nod.

Her eyes flicker across my face. I don’t know what she’s hoping to see, but it doesn’t matter. I get lost in the beauty of her searching eyes and that’s all I care about.

She steps closer, forcing me to drop my hand. She snakes her arms around my waist and hugs me. She offers me affection where she never has before, and my heart hammers against my ribs. My pulse rushes adrenaline through my veins, adrenaline that makes me fall from a cliff, dropping hard and fast with my undying love for her.

I wrap my arms around her, cradling the back of her head in my palm, holding her against me impossibly close…and she lets me.

“Thank you…” she whispers, “for letting her stay.”

I don’t know how to tell Stella that she’s softened me. I don’t want her to know that she’s already taken away some of the power she wants from me, that she holds it firmly in her grasp and only has to hug me like this, whisper softly like this, to get anything she wants from me. I’d give her anything to feel this affection from her again.

I swallow the harsh fear of losing everything I know for this woman. I press a kiss to the top of her head and inhale her sweet, fragrant scent. My breath trembles when I exhale because a terrifying realization has just hit me fucking hard.

If she ever learns that this is all she has to do to strip my power from me entirely, she’ll do it, and our world will burn.

And I fear I’d let myself burn with it just to see her rise from the ashes.