The Devil's CrownPart Two - Monica James Page 0,45

ago.

Once the door closes, I hug my middle and fold myself in half. No wonder Frank is so cruel. Both his parents are monsters.

Frank’s brothers share everything, including women, it seems. Does this mean Frank does the same with his brother’s wives?

I could crumple in a heap and cry. Or I could fight.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, hunched over, looking like a victim, I slowly straighten my spine and brush back my snarled hair. I can’t cry any more tears. I don’t want to. Alek once called me brave. I intend to stay that way.

Once I no longer look a fright, I open the door, ready to end this once and for all. However, when I find Frank waiting for me outside the door, I can’t hide my surprise.

“Are you all right, tesoro? Mother said you’re unwell,” he asks kindly, his Jekyll and Hyde persona in full swing. “That’s why you’ve been acting so strange.”

“I’m fine,” I reply firmly. “I wish to go upstairs.”

I need to get away from him so I can ask Georgina to slip a note to Alek. I trust her. I know that she won’t rat on me. If she can’t get to Alek, Saint or Willow will do.

But Frank shakes his head. “No, my father has asked we join him in the den.”

“Why?” This is unheard of.

“Because he’s challenged Alek to a game of poker.” My stomach drops.

Why would he do that? He knows Alek’s past. He knows what he did to Willow. Santo is up to something.

“He likes you,” Frank says, startling me.

“Who?” I gulp, tugging at the jeweled cross around my neck.

“Alek,” he replies like that should be a no-brainer. “I saw the way he was looking at you. It pleases me that he wants what’s mine.”

I don’t have time to react before he bends down and places his mouth over mine.

Bile rises, and I keep my lips slack as he attempts to kiss me. “I’m sorry for this morning,” he whispers against my mouth. “You just know what buttons to press.”

Pulling away, I can’t hide my horror. Is he really blaming me for his violence?

“Come, you know my father doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” He loops his fingers through mine and leads me to the den. I don’t know what I’m walking into, but it’s not good.

Frank opens the door and ushers me in. The moment I enter, I see Alek sitting at the poker table, coolly leaning back in his chair, sipping a drink. Everyone sits at the table, bar Saint and Willow. Mila isn’t here.

Santo turns over his shoulder, smiling fondly at me. “Are you feeling better? Mila said you weren’t feeling well.”

“I’m fine,” I reply curtly, incredulous he can speak to me so casually after what he did.

I try to make my move and stand near Willow, but Frank leads me in the other direction, toward the empty chair. He takes a seat, expecting me to stand behind him like a good little fidanzata.

Clenching my jaw, I remain passive, not wanting to alert anyone to the inner turmoil brewing. It won’t be long until it explodes out of me.

“So are we ready?” Santo asks, arranging his chips into stacks.

Willow shifts uncomfortably. The memories of what happened the last time Alek played poker must still be too raw.

Alek chuckles arrogantly. “Sure. You ready to lose?”

Santo grins, raising his crystal glass in salute.

I don’t know anything about poker, so it’s all very foreign to me as they start playing. They play their cards close to their chest, none of them giving anything away. Alek has always had the perfect poker face.

I’m fascinated by the way he approaches this game with utter confidence. If I were playing, I’d be fooled into thinking he had a winning hand every time he laid a card down. Santo wins the first game. His prize—twenty thousand dollars.

As some machine shuffles their cards, Fausto makes his move. Playtime is over.

“Aleksei, Santo has explained to us that you’re in need of someone you can trust. With Raul gone, you need someone who can fulfill your demands.”

Alek nods, his poker face still in play. “Yes. That is correct. However, I will not go into business with an amateur.”

Fausto looks as though Alek has slapped both his cheeks with the insult. “I can guarantee our product is the very best.”

Santo doesn’t speak. He simply deals the cards to the players, allowing Fausto to say his bit.

“You must understand, trust is everything to me,” Alek says, peeking at