Corrupt Prince by Ivy Mason

Eighteen

"Bring him in."I strode past Knight and Dante and into my office, and heard the scuffling as they dragged James kicking and yelling, behind them.

I'd never used my office for something like this before, but I may as well start now.

Leaning over, I gripped the edge of the rug and jerked it up and over, throwing it to the side. Didn't want to stain it, in case James thought his dick was bigger than mine.

As soon as Aster had fallen asleep, I'd cleaned both her and myself, then attended to my fucking wounds, and dressed in my blackest Bergdorf Goodman suit to match my mood. I was sore, exhausted, and in need of some serious pain killers.

However, time waited for no man. Aster’s information came with a revelation, and serious action was required.

But first, I had to take care of this dipshit.

James fought against them but after several minutes of restraining him, and bolting the chair into the concrete floor, he finally stilled. His clothes were torn and drenched in sweat, his dark blue eyes blazing with anger, and dried blood crusted below his now broken nose. Knight and Dante dropped to the couch, with Knight leaning back, flicking his lighter with a lazy look. Dante sat on the edge, ready to jump to his feet for any reason.

I stood over James, feeling almost nothing. This piece of shit deserved everything he got. Hours ago, the roles had been reversed, and I'd been the one tied to the chair.

I pulled out my gun and, stepping forward, grabbed his sweat-slicked, bald head and jerked it up to force him to look me in the eyes. I pressed the gun in the middle of his throat and took off the safety.

His throat bobbed with fear, but he stared up at me with contempt and rage.

I leaned down, the smell of his sweat filling my nose. “The only reason you're alive right now is because Aster is safe, sleeping in my bed." I tilted my head to the side, shifting the gun. "Why didn't you give her up?"

"I don't owe you jack shit.”

I ran the gun up his neck and chin, then shoved it into his mouth. "I think you do."

He stared into my eyes, defiance in his gaze, his words barely comprehensible around the gun in his mouth. “I'm not afraid. I signed my life away the day your father showed up on my doorstep."

“Is that so?” I grinned. "Knight."

At my command, Knight stood and went to the door. I stepped back, pulling the gun out and tucking it away.

When he returned, Knight brought with him a young girl of about fourteen. She had straight, jet black hair and bright blue eyes. Knight made her laugh and she blushed, clasping her hand to her mouth.

James’ eyes widened at the sight of his sister. “Shit.”

At his curse, she looked away from Knight, then froze at the sight of him.

"James, what happened?" She ran to him, falling to her knees on the cold concrete floor beside him. She was skinny, too skinny, and had holes in her knees and shoes. She reminded me of myself before I came to live with my father. “You’re hurt.”

"Raven," he let out a tortured sound, leaning his head against hers. "It's going to be okay."

“Is it, James?" I stared at them impassively.

Tears began to fall down her face and she swirled towards me, angry. "What did you do to him?" She turned her gaze to Knight, betrayal in her expression. "You did this."

I stepped forward and squat down in front of her. “Sweetheart,” I gave her a comforting smile, "James did this to himself."

"Liar!" She was practically spitting fire, her blue eyes blazing. Apparently, their fiery personality was genetic.

I shook my head. "I'm not." I loosened my tie, then began to undo the top buttons of my shirt.

"Coulter," Dante growled, but I ignored him.

Reaching forward, I took Raven's hand, and, pulling my shirt apart so she could see the wounds on my chest, I led her hand to them.

"See this, Raven? James did this to me."

At the first touch on my chest, she yanked her hand back, like it'd scalded her. I didn't force her to look or touch but, at my encouraging nod, she tentatively reached forward again and softly ran her fingers over the wounds on my chest. Her eyes were wary as she looked at me. "He did this to you?"

I nodded.

She frowned, a snark to her tone. “Did you deserve it?"

I chuckled. "Probably." I stood up, fixing my shirt and tie. "Knight."

Knight stood and, wrapping his fingers around Raven's arm, he pulled her towards the door, despite her loud protest. The last sound we heard before the door closed was Knight reassuring her that her brother would be okay.

“Now," I said, standing between James and his line of sight to the door, where he was still staring, “you’ll determine what happens to her next.”

This time, when James looked at me, there was no defiance, no anger, only pure and utter defeat. "You win."

“I don't want to win, James, I want information."

"What do you want to know?"

"Why didn't you tell my father that Aster was with me?"

"Because she stepped in between me and the gun you were pointing at my head."

I shook my head, wondering how on earth meddling, spirited Aster could gain his loyalty so quickly.

She was impulsive and reckless. Yet, she still managed to quickly worm her way into people’s hearts.

Even cold, dead, mafioso hearts.

"Tell me where the notebook is." I didn't need it anymore. I knew why my father had taken Bourbon's blood but, if my father had gone to the trouble of getting that notebook, it must be worth something.

“It's in his room, at your house, in the safe under the floor in his closet. The code to get in is 8405690."

"What's in the notebook?"

A beefy shoulder came up. "I don't know."

I believed him. If it was that valuable, my father wouldn't trust anyone with the information inside it.

I was done with James, except for one more thing. I stepped forward and pressed the nuzzle of the gun to his forehead.

He stared straight into my eyes with zero fear. It was admirable, the way he stared down death. “I have one favor to ask. Take care of Raven. Please. Don't let her get dragged into this world. She doesn’t have anyone else."

I hesitated, my finger on the trigger.

"Please, Coulter. I’m begging you. If you want, I'll get down on my knees and beg."

I pressed the gun in deeper, leaning over to stare into his eyes. "I don't want your fucking begging."

“Then what do you want? I'll give you anything."

“Anything?”

“Yes,” his voice caught, and I could hear the trickle of hope in it that wasn’t there before, “whatever you want, in exchange for her safety.”

"What I want,” I paused, “is your loyalty."

He blinked in surprise, not speaking for a moment. "What?"

"You're one of the best guards my father has. I want you to switch sides.” I was taking a huge risk telling him this, but I'd decided it was worth it. Especially since James now knew that I had access to Raven. "I'm going to take my father down, and I want you at my back when I do it."

His chest moved up and down as he breathed heavily, considering what this meant. Blood would run in the streets, but he had nothing to lose now. "I want to get Raven to safety, then I will fight for you."

"I will get Raven to safety. Consider it my gift to you. You'll know exactly where she is as soon as she lands, and will have access to speak to her."

James nodded, "Fine.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear my loyalty to you, Coulter, from here on out."

I slid the gun down to between his eyes, a dark look on my face. "Know this, James. If you ever betray me again, there will be no woman that will get between you and the end of my gun."

His throat bobbed, and he nodded. I let it sit for a second, then pulled it back. James exhaled a deep breath, slumping, and I tucked the gun away and stepped back.

"Dante, let Knight know what we've agreed to, and get someone in here to help James out."

Dante tapped on his phone, then stood to untie James while I went to my desk, sitting down. As soon as James was gone, Dante sat on the sofa across from my desk, his sharp, brown eyes on me. "Do you think he'll be loyal?"

“Yes." I opened my laptop, turning it on with my fingerprint then pulling up the secure website I needed.

"And if he isn't?" Dante cleared his throat. "Will you sell the girl?"

My eyes flicked upwards, "Christ, Dante."

He didn't react, only nodded. “Understood.”

"Just make sure she's safe."

"Already taken care of."

“Good," I looked back down at my computer. "When am I going to speak to your cousin? The only reason I'm still alive is because I promised my father Massimo would be at the wedding."

"He's arriving tomorrow evening."

“Good, because plans have changed. Will he be open to that?"

"As long as you give him what he wants, he'll be open to any changes.”

I peered over my computer. "He wants to be at the opening of Posh?"

Dante nodded. “He wants a private audience with Caspia Ferrari.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Who’s that?”

“She’s the new face of Salvation, the new fragrance that’s launching. He wants a private room with access for him only. No cameras. Back door access.”

“Does he plan to hurt her?”

“No, but we can stipulate that the guard has access to the room. If she screams, he’ll hear her.”

I sighed. “Do you trust him?”

“No, but I don’t think he’ll do anything to her. In fact, I think he might be in love with the girl. I’ve never seen him go to such great lengths to see a woman.”

I sighed. “What we do for women, that’s why we hate them so much.”

“True.” Dante chuckled darkly, shaking his head, and I knew he was thinking about the woman who haunted his own past. “Will this be a problem?”

"The fragrance company will have my ass if they find out that I kidnapped their spokeswoman and put her in a room with a mafia boss from Italy.”

“She’s actually mafia.”

My eyebrows shot upward. “From where?”

“Ferrari?”

“Shit,” I cursed, just now recognizing the name. “That could start things with Atlanta.”

"How badly do you need this from him?”

I scowled. "Good point. Okay, let me know when and where to meet him.”

"You got it."

"Now," I clicked on the video feed that I needed. "When I got home, my uncle Daimon was already gone. Do you know when they took him?"

"No." Dante sounded as if he was disappointed he didn't have the answer.

“It’s fine.” I began scrolling through the videos, though I wasn't certain this was going to be any help. "Regardless of when they took him, I needed to find him. See if he's alive or dead. The answer to that will determine how we take my father down. What have your men discovered?"

"There are three locations where they could've taken him, if he's still alive. Two of them are warehouses where he likes to keep his 'prisoners of war' as he likes to call them. One is a more private location." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "It's your old house."

Eyebrows furrowing, I looked up from scanning the video feed. "My old house?"

He nodded. "Where you grew up. Before your mom moved in with Nero."

"Fuck," I whispered, my eyes back on the screen. It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for, and I checked the time stamp.

My father's guards took Uncle Daimon away at the same time we’d left to go to that house.

So, he’d known from the beginning that I would be there that night.

Fucking James.

I stood, slamming the laptop shut. "Come on."

Dante jumped to his feet. “Where are we going?"

“If I know my father, he'll have taken Daimon to my old house. If not, we have three days to find him.”

It was three days until the wedding, when Bourbon and Rose should've had the best day of their lives. Instead, it would be dominated and controlled every step of the way by my father.

We were quiet on the way over, and I was glad that Dante had driven. I hadn’t seen my old house in years; it wasn’t a place I wanted to visit.

As we pulled up to the old brown house, memories assaulted me.

It was where I’d gotten burnt on the stove teaching myself how to cook hot dogs. Where I fed an old scraggly street dog named Max. Where men came and left for mom’s work.

It was the place where, for the first time, I’d seen a woman give a man a blow job.

I was supposed to stay in my room but I couldn’t help peeking sometimes.

Then the night there was a knock on my bedroom door, after I’d been instructed to go to bed.

It was Nero, and my mom explained that he was my dad. He'd loomed over me, a scowl on his face when I hadn't answered, instead scuffing my shoe on the floor.

"You hard of hearing, son?" His voice, cold and harsh.

I shook my head, my own voice a small squeak compared to his. "No."

“Then look me in the eyes when I speak to you. If you’re going to be my son, you need to look someone in the eyes when they speak to you. That tells them that you’re not afraid of them.”

I shut down the memory as Dante and I stepped out of the car, shutting the door.

The night was not quiet, as Naked City came alive when it grew dark. But, just like it had only a few nights ago, my instincts warned me that something was wrong.

This time, I didn't hesitate. I knew what was coming. I just needed to verify it with my own eyes.

I strode toward the front door with no reluctance, and tried the door knob.

It wasn't locked.

As if something was waiting for us.

I flipped the light switch but no light flickered, so Dante and I stepped inside, our guns drawn, using the flashlight we’d brought to light the way.

The Las Vegas heat was sweltering this time of year, and sweat ran down the side of my face. I wiped it as we took in the room. The living room was the same, with cheap sixties carpet, peeling linoleum in the kitchen, and the same burn spot on the wall behind the stove.

A stench in the air filled my nose, and Dante and I met each other's eyes.

I nodded, and we made our way past the empty rooms and down the short hallway, opening doors as we went. Dante went into my mother’s room but I approached my room. The same doorway where I'd met my father for the first time.

The door was partially opened and my chest constricted as I tapped it.

It slowly creaked open, and the stench washed over me like a wave.

I took a step inside, resolute to finish this.

I inhaled deeply, taking in every detail in the room. I wanted to remember it for the rest of my life, from the smell, to the sounds, to the way it looked.

In the middle of the floor lay the dead body of my uncle, his head missing.

On the ground, written in blood over his corpse, was written one word: traitor.

It was a warning, for me.

Betray Nero, and you die.