Dark Queen - Ker Dukey Page 0,32

comes around. I find Hannah in her office, looking queasy.

“Did you hear about what happened?” I ask, making my way over to her desk, taking the seat opposite her.

“Are we friends?” I flinch at her sudden question, a warmth stirs in my stomach, it takes me off guard. We don’t really know each other, but I’ve felt a connection to her throughout my short time here.

“I’d like to think so,” I tell her honestly. I could use friends.

Worrying her lip, she tracks a path to the door making sure it’s closed.

“I wasn’t being cautious when I told you the Leto men are dangerous.” She frowns, swigging from an open bottle of water.

“What do you mean?” I ask, sitting forward.

“The girl who came in is the sister of a worker at one of Mr. Leto’s other businesses.”

“Okay?” My stomach knots in anticipation of what she’s going to say next.

“Her name was Serena. She was a server at a private club. She was Mr. Leto’s girl—exclusively.” My insides want to be on the outside. Jealousy and envy spawn inside me.

“Everyone knew she belonged to him. Especially her. She liked it, flaunted it,” Hannah sneers.

“Did he love her?” I ask, the possessiveness spreading inside me like a disease.

“God no.” She pulls a face like it’s a ridiculous question. “Mr. Leto isn’t built to love a woman, Alyssa. This is what I warned you about.”

Thud.

Not everyone needs or wants love.

Screwing the cap on her bottle she folds her hands into her lap, “Serena would never be more than his good time girl, and I think it broke something inside her. A sadness surrounded her, you know?” she swallows, I think she knows more about that than I.

“She could never truly be his. You don’t make women like her into wives.” She scoffs. “No one knows for sure what happened, why she went to a back room with someone other than him, but they found her in their private room, murdered.” She watches my face, waiting for the fear or shock to show, but I just want more information.

“So, who did it?”

She clasps her hands onto the arms of her chair, lifting her shoulders. “They don’t know. But this freak really did a number on her—carved her up until she wasn’t recognizable.”

Again, she stares at me waiting for me to gasp, or run-in fear.

I won’t.

“The cuts were so deep, it had to be someone really fucking nasty, brutal, strong.” Taking a breath, she adds, “And it came only months after Mr. Leto’s mom’s death.”

So much death surrounding us both.

“How did she die?” The way she said it implies her death wasn’t a normal death either.

“A mugging, of all things. Supposedly.” Her brows pinch. Worry tugs at her lips.

“His mother was murdered as well?” I breathe aloud, wanting to soak in all the information she has to offer.

“I know. It’s suspect.”

Is it?

“Do you think he could have done it?” I ask, bewildered by this new information.

Tension builds suffocating the room.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” she’s whispering now, concern watering her eyes. “But it scares me. I’ve seen the way he watches you.”

Which way is that?

Like I’m his next victim…

I reach over and squeeze her arm. “Don’t worry about me, but thank you.”

Swiping at her eye she sniffles chuckling, “For what?”

Smiling I say, “For being honest and genuine.” I check my watch. Break’s over.

I can feel his eyes on me as I move around the lower floor.

Always freaking watching, stirring my insides.

He’s returned to his table, having lost his suit jacket and tie. He’s now in a white shirt, the sleeves pushed up his arms.

I often wonder what he’d look like without clothes on, and what I’ve learned about him hasn’t quelled that thirst.

Shaking my head to rid the thoughts from distracting me more, I move to the new customers and take their order.

The man, thin with leathery, crinkled skin, looks much older than the girl he’s with. The atmosphere between them makes my stomach churn.

There’s no spirit in her dull, bruised eyes. His large, bony hand clenches her smaller, pale one, making the tips of her fingers turn white.

“My usual bottle,” he tells me flippantly without even raising his eyes to mine.

Another rich, entitled asshole.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m new here. I’m not sure what that would be.”

His jaw flexes with annoyance. “Then ask someone,” he snarls.

The girl he’s with makes a whimpering sound, her shoulders dropping from how hard he’s squeezing his hand on hers.

Bastard.

I want to ask if she’s okay, but I fear it will