Shattered Dynasty by Ava Harrison
38
Trent
I’m notsure whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but my phone rings.
Payton’s eyes pop open.
Again, I get lost in Payton.
I want to kiss her.
Pull her close and erase all the shit from the past.
Even the last kiss, because when that happened, I pulled myself away. Hatred rushed at me like a giant tsunami. Sudden, brutal, and disastrous. I’d gotten lost in the moment. Blind to anything but Payton.
My own personal tunnel vision.
All I could see was red where she was concerned. My anger channeled straight into her.
This moment would have been different. There was no anger as I held her in my arms last night. Just a desperate desire to protect her better.
Softer, gentler kisses.
Not just because of her pain. Because I want to show that side to her. Show her the man I think I could be for her.
The phone rings again.
Payton’s eyes dip down to it. She licks her lips, her voice coming out husky. “You should probably answer that.”
“Probably,” I say, but I don’t move.
If I’m going to be that man for Payton, I need her to be well. I need to know that I’m not confusing my emotions with guilt. And the truth is, she needs to know that, too.
But later. She’s right. I need to answer the phone.
I do, and all it takes is a few seconds for the grin to consume my face.
Looks like the crew is back.
It needsto be said that Tobias is an asshole. Even when the dickwad is technically the source of my problems, we end up catering to his schedule. To his needs.
Apparently, he had other pressing matters.
So, here I am, driving to Connecticut in my car.
Despite the fact that Matteo lives closer.
That Jaxson lives closer.
This long-ass drive? Totally unnecessary.
We could’ve stayed in the city.
I sound like a whiny bitch again.
The truth is, leaving Payton with a nurse, even if only temporarily, doesn’t sit well with me. I’d be much happier if it were me there, watching over her, making sure she’s comfortable and safe.
I slow my car, driving the speed limit for once. I need the time to think about what I’m going to do with her. Also, the idea of causing a crash like Payton’s, even if I’m one hundred percent confident behind the wheel, sickens me.
Great.
I’m one step closer to being a normal, boring, law-abiding citizen. Society can thank Payton Hart for that. Now that I’m no longer lying to myself, I can admit that I’m attracted to her. I can also admit that I like her, too.
I want to build her up instead of crushing her life and pissing on the rubble. Which is a welcome first. I’m going to use this time to get to know her.
I sound like a love-sick puppy.
Next thing I know, I’ll be braiding her hair and singing her lullabies to sleep.
Spending some time with Lorenzo and Tobias should help me put my brain back in order. Matteo and Cyrus, on the other hand, are useless. They’re pussy-whipped.
Maybe I’m no exception, except for the fact I am not actually fucking her.
Traffic is on my side. Before I know it, I’m in Connecticut, making the approach up Cyrus’s long, elegant, and very private driveway. I park my car in the circular roundabout, get out, and head to the large mahogany doors.
I don’t even have to knock. Gerald, Cyrus’s butler, opens the door for me as if he’s been waiting for my arrival.
No one needs to announce me or tell me where to go.
I have spent more nights and weekends here than I can even count over the past four years. I head straight into the parlor, where we normally play poker.
I’m not the first one here.
Tobias sits at the table that’s now empty of chips.
I nod to him. “I see you’re the first.”
“That I am.” He lifts his glass to me. “I had other business to discuss with Cyrus. I got here yesterday and stayed the night.”
“Anything I can help with?” I ask.
“Not yet, but I’m sure Cyrus will contact you when he needs you to do something with my money.”
“Looking forward to that phone call,” I say, the sarcasm eliciting a snort from Tobias.
No matter how much we tell Cyrus to retire, he hasn’t. Sure, he’s taken a major step back and only works for certain clients now, Tobias being one. But Cyrus is ruthless with his money. Always seeking ways to grow it.
Not a bad thing, but also not exactly a call I look forward to receiving. I like Cyrus best when business is not involved, and we just drink cognac and play cards.
Cyrus doesn’t gamble when there’s money on the table. He might run a card game with a six-figure buy-in, but he will only play with friends.
The sound of footsteps draws my attention. Lorenzo, Matteo, and Cyrus enter the room and take their respective seats around the poker table. Cyrus, naturally, sits at the dealer’s end.
Matteo breaks the silence. “So, what did you need to discuss with us?”
I run a palm along my jaw, considering how to approach this. “I’m not sure how much you all know about Payton . . .”
“The girl you have living with you.” Lorenzo smirks as he speaks.
“Yes.”
“Are you banging her?”
“Not your business, Lorenzo.”
“That’s not a no.” His smile broadens like a pig in shit.
“What I do with Payton is none of your business,” I snap.
The bastard tilts his head, and I know he won’t let up.
I’m right.
“Since you aren’t, maybe I could,” he drawls. “Dating as the head of the mafia is difficult these days.”
“The fuck you will.” I jab my finger in his direction. “Don’t even step foot near her.”
“So . . . you do want to bang her.” Lorenzo’s smile never drops.
Bastard.
I walked right into that one. But I’m on edge when it comes to Payton. Overprotective and reeling from what happened.
“Jesus, Lorenzo. Give the guy a break,” Jax says as he enters the room and takes a seat beside Cyrus. “Did I miss anything important, or are we here to break Romeo’s balls?”
“Nothing other than the fact that Trent is hard up for the girl living in his house. His stepsister.” Lorenzo, apparently, has a death wish tonight because if he doesn’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to kill him.
Would that make me the new head of the mafia?
“Dad fucked her sister, so at best, that would make Payton my aunt, which she’s not since Dad and the sister were never married,” I inform him, my voice curt and to the point.
Cyrus cracks his neck. “As much as I want to chitchat with all of you pussies, which I don’t by the way, I have better things to do. Can we get to the fucking point? No more interruptions.”
Not surprisingly, Cyrus is the serious one.
“Someone tried to hurt her, and they wanted it to look like it was me,” I tell the men at the table.
“She’s going to be okay?”Matteo asks.
“Mercifully, she is. Concussion. Bruised ribs. A sprained ankle. That’s it, and she got lucky. She didn’t get the brunt of it, but still, not the point. The point is, someone tried to kill her, and I have a feeling I know who it is.”
“Paul,” Jax finishes.
I nod.
“That fucker,” Lorenzo hisses.
Matteo leans forward in his chair. “Why do you think he went after her?”
“As much as I hate to say it, I think it’s because he thought she was important to me.”
“Well, she is, right?” Matteo assesses me.
“I have no idea. My feelings are complex, to say the least. All I can tell you is it didn’t start this way.”
“Welcome to the party, brother.” He laughs, and I’m happy Matteo finds my suffering so entertaining.
“The thing is, from an outsider’s point of view, I was always with Payton. She lived in my house. He must have thought that she meant something to me. That we’re involved. So, he went after her to hurt me.”
I care about her.
It’s obvious at this point.
I can deny it, but it won’t do me any good. Paul wanted to hurt someone I care about. Mission fucking accomplished. To be honest, he’s not that nostalgic. Emotional connections don’t exist to him. Hurting Payton was a means to an end to disrupt my life, thereby disrupting my business.
But I don’t care about my business.
I’m not gonna admit that in front of a room full of my clients, who trust me with their billions . . . but going after Paul isn’t about the hedge fund.
It’s about revenge.
I won’t let him get away with what he did to Payton.
I lean forward, placing my elbows on the table. “We need a plan.”
“Fuck the plan. We need to grab that motherfucker and torture the hell outta him.” Angry Lorenzo has replaced the annoyingly playful version. For once, I welcome it with eager arms.
“Or we could try to do this in a more civilized fashion,” I answer him, but only because I think torture is temporary.
“Civilization is for pussies. We took his money. We fucked him out of everything. The man doesn’t want civilized.”
Lorenzo has a point.
“Okay, so we take him. Then what?” I ask.
Normally, this is where I step back and let the guys do their thing, but for Payton, I’m all in.
“We torture him, obviously.”
“Guys—” Jaxson chimes in, but Lorenzo lifts his hand to silence him.
“Nope, you have no say in this,” Lorenzo tells him.
“Then why am I here?”
“For someone so smart, I thought it would be obvious.”
Jaxson shoots Lorenzo a nasty look. “You need someone to locate him? Great.”
I turn to Jax and incline my head. “Oh, cut the shit. If you didn’t want to do this kind of work, you wouldn’t be here. You get bored of all that government crap you do.”
“Yep, that’s why I keep coming back,” he says, playing it off as sarcasm, but we all know it’s the truth. “Because all the government crap is boring, and I miss you guys.”
“He loves us.” Lorenzo grins at Jax like an idiot, and I’m pretty sure Jaxson will one day have his revenge. He’ll probably hack his computer and give him some crazy bug.
Jax leans back against his seat. “Okay, I’ll do it. Once I get the intel, who do you want me to send it to?”
“Me,” I tell him, rapping my knuckles on the velvet table. “Encrypted files on a hard drive with instructions for us on where and when to meet you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Or I can just send a text asking you to grab drinks with me, and I’ll tell you in person.”
“That does sound simpler.” I turn to the rest of the guys. “Okay, and once we get Paul, where are we holding him?”
“My island is out,” Cyrus says. “Ivy lives on it.”
“Unfortunately, my place is out, too,” Matteo chimes in. “Viviana might be pissed if she hears the screams.”
“I have the perfect place,” Lorenzo adds, a grin on his face.
By the way Matteo cringes, I have a feeling things get ugly there.
“Thanks, Lorenzo,” I tell him, and I mean it.
Even though he’s talking about torturing a man (and killing him, most likely), this is for Payton, and I owe him.
“It’s the least I can do. You did make me a shit ton of money last year.”
“And it was clean,” I add.
“True.”