Dark Queen - Ker Dukey Page 0,20

a run for it.

Once back in my dorm room I strip out of the wet clothes and into a sleep short set throwing myself under the covers.

Sleep evades me, instead, I lay awake staring up at the ceiling replaying the day’s events, lingering on Luca and his intoxicating presence.

Chapter Fifteen

Luca

Hanging my suit jacket on the back of a chair, I roll up the sleeves of my shirt and head to the liquor cabinet, feeling the burn of my father’s gaze on my back.

I worked from my home office today, not wanting to bump into the little ballerina at Vino’s.

Marcello found tormenting me all too amusing, and because he’s my mother’s only nephew, I allow him certain freedoms and liberties, but my temper has been frayed lately.

The cool exterior I used to wear so effortlessly has become increasingly harder to portray.

Rage, grief, and irritation lives in my veins, a constant humming vibrating beneath the surface.

We all harbor a darker self-most are too afraid to ever tap into. Mine is seeping through the cracks, covering me in this thunderous cloud of craving blood and retribution for things that were already settled.

Animosity drips from me, and I can’t shake it. My mother’s death plagues me, and now Serena’s…

There’s no room for a girl like Alyssa in my world. I can’t afford to have any connection with another woman after what happened with Serena.

It’s not safe.

But there’s something different about her. She’s managed to slither under my skin without any effort.

She’s nothing to me, no one—a random fleeting encounter of two people. We’ve spent a handful of minutes in each other’s orbit, yet she’s left an imprint on me, burrowed in like a seed wanting to grow.

I pour an extra finger of whiskey, and my shoulders loosen as I knock it back.

Seeds can only grow if you nurture them. I’m not going to feed this thing. I’ll starve it until it withers.

If Marcello is going to insist on keeping her working at Vinos, I’ll make it unbearable for her—force her out.

“Have you run out of whisky, son?” my father’s strained voice calls out to me from his high-back chair.

The crackling fire makes the room stifling. His paper-thin skin sags on his weary bones, his cheeks hollow. The man is a shell of the powerful force he once was.

“You always have the better bottles.” I raise a brow, looking over at him.

“Bring me one of those, will you?” He poses it as a question, but it’s not.

Grabbing the bottle and an extra glass, I nod toward Edward, dismissing the man who’s been at my father’s side for the last two decades.

For people of our status, protection and loyal men are paramount—and that doesn’t end when we close our door at night.

This place is teeming with staff and men who work for us. We made a lot of those men wealthy, and in return, they’d kill or die for us.

Edward’s large frame casts a shadow creeping across the wall as he leaves, softly closing the door behind him.

He’s a beast of a man, tall, with a nasty scar that slashes through his right eye. He looks like a storybook villain.

“I like it in here.” My father offers a rare smile. “Your mother liked the view out that window.” He lifts a finger, breathing heavy from the exertion, pointing to the floor-to-ceiling window that looks out over the gardens.

Illness for a man like my father is a worse sentence than death. He refuses to leave the house, and no visitors are permitted to his wing of the house.

When he finally does leave this place, it will be in a box. His reputation is brutality and power. He’d rather take a bullet than let his rivals see him weak.

“It reminds me of her too,” I say, chinking my glass gently with his. She used to listen to classical music while watching the many young gardeners, but I keep that information to myself.

“Your brother…” he begins, but his words are taken over as he coughs and splutters. He drops his glass to the floor, the liquid seeping over the rug.

I remain quiet until he gets himself under control, then without acknowledging the dropped glass, slip my glass into his hand. “Your brother is getting out of control. If you don’t rein him in, he will lose himself.”

“I’ll deal with him,” I state.

Antonio being a pain in all our asses is nothing new.

“You need to marry, Luca. You’re my legacy.” He pauses, his hand going to his chest as it