Corrupted Queen - Nicole Fox Page 0,35

My encounter with Andrew Walsh was a slow-burn by design. He tortured me with the passage of time and the knowledge that any given second could be my last. Killian had no such theatricality. He just wanted my death, swift and sure. I still don’t know why, and Clara hasn’t been any help in that regard. She has been drying out in one of the spare bedrooms, and for the most part all she has done is cry and scream. I can’t ask her the questions I need to ask because it only sets her off. I guess I will have to wait to find out why her boyfriend was so determined to kill me.

My only solace has been Gabriel. Since the attack, he has been coming to my room late each night, like he used to in the days before I betrayed him. Before he locked me up. The first night he just held me. A foolish part of me wondered whether that was more for my benefit or for his.

The second night was far less gentle but somehow more comforting. He forbade me to make a sound while he fucked me, swatting my ass and breasts for every moan and whimper. Something about that harsh lesson in self-restraint and the explosive orgasm that followed eased my pain, as though the familiar structure of his domination released me from my trauma.

There is a knock on my bedroom door. I look up from where I’m sitting on the bed, staring into space.

“Yeah?”

The door cracks open and Angelo sticks his head through the gap. “Gabriel would like to see you in his office.”

I heft a sigh and nod, lifting myself from the mattress. “Thanks, Angelo.”

He nods and closes the door while I go to check on Harry, who is happily enjoying his after- lunch nap. I grab the baby monitor and head to Gabriel’s office. I knock on the heavy oak door.

“Come in.”

I enter, and Gabriel is seated behind his desk with his laptop open. He closes it and gestures for me to take a seat in front of him. It’s all very formal. Even his expression smacks of serious business, all hard lines and flat edges.

I sit. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to inform you that I have made arrangements for Clara to receive treatment in one of Belluci Inc’s rehabilitation centers.”

“You mean one of the ones that’s left?” I remark, unable to help myself.

Gabriel’s mouth presses together sternly and I categorize the next question I was going to ask, about whether she’ll be pushed to the streets like the rest of the addicts once he decides to close her center, into the wrong time, wrong place folder. He’s helping. I should be grateful.

Gabriel clears his throat and continues. The formality of it all stings a little for reasons I don’t understand. “Clara’s treatment will include therapy for post-traumatic stress disorder due to the murder she committed in self-defense. The doctors have advised that you keep your distance for a little while, to give her time to acclimatize to the new environment and work through some of her issues.”

“Thank you,” I say.

He nods. “I should have gotten involved sooner. The doctor who examined her after the attack noted that there were clear signs of abuse.” Gabriel glances down at his desk, then back up at me. “I’m sorry, Alexis.”

An apology from Gabriel Belluci is as valuable as a solid gold basketball and just as heavy. He drops it in my lap and it knocks the air right out of my lungs.

“Thank you,” I say.

Silence stretches like a bungee cord between us, words unspoken waiting to snap into focus at any second. I study his face. His dark eyes are tired, stressed. His jaw is tense. He somehow looks even more handsome like this, with tension framing his muscles.

“Killian,” I say finally.

Gabriel blinks. “Killian.”

“Why …” I trail off, remembering the sounds of wood cracking as he slammed against the bathroom door.

“Why was he trying to kill you?” Gabriel fills in, lifting one heavy brow.

I nod.

“I’ve been looking into it,” he replies. “He was part of a small faction of Irish mobsters still loyal to Andrew Walsh. Andrew’s son Patrick took control of the regime after Andrew’s death, but there are some who refuse to accept his authority. They’ve attacked a few of our businesses in recent weeks. I expect that before he died, Walsh ordered Killian to get close to Clara as a way to get to you.”

My heart sinks. Poor Clara. I