The Devil's CrownPart Two - Monica James Page 0,48

for what we agreed on. For instance, if you said you’d wanted to fuck, demoralize, or abuse either of them, I wouldn’t have approved,” Alek states, using this loss as a win. “Your negotiation skills are sloppy. Fueled by greed. This isn’t smart business, and I won’t enter into a partnership with careless men.”

Santo isn’t happy, but he nods. Besides, all he wants is the information. Saint and Willow were a cushy bonus. “You’re right, Aleksei. This won’t happen again.”

I don’t understand it, but in this world, someone’s word seems to be enough.

“I expect you to treat my friends as you would me—with respect.”

As far as deals go, Santo and company have lost, and they won’t be using Saint and Willow to gratify their devious ways. They will suck it up because this is their fault for not setting their own rules. Alek set this plan in motion, knowing Saint and Willow would be safe if he lost.

He wanted to teach Santo a lesson; that’s why he lost. He wouldn’t have made the deal otherwise. Make no mistake, he will always be alpha. If Santo goes back on his word and hurts Saint or Willow, their partnership is done. And Santo would never allow that to happen, so he’ll behave.

But what about me? Where does this leave me? If he won, he could have saved me. Did he even try to win? Was I ever taken into consideration when Alek made this deal? I soon find out that I was.

“Lucky for me then,” Frank snarls, glaring at Alek. “If you won, I’m sure you wouldn’t have shared the same respect for my fiancée.”

Alek leans back in his chair, eyeing me without emotion. “She looks like she bites. I probably would have asked for a rematch if I won.”

Santo chuckles while I grit my teeth, ready to kill this motherfucker with my bare hands. How dare he.

“I now see why you’re unrivaled. You’re smart. Resourceful. We will make a great team,” Fausto says, nodding at Santo happily. “We can teach one another so much.”

How wonderful; everyone wins. Alek has proven he’s got the biggest dick, and Santo and his famiglia get the information to use as collateral against Alek when the time is right. I should let them kill him.

Suddenly, realization hits—all of this was for nothing.

Alek didn’t need me to save him. Fausto is right; he is smart and resourceful. He would have figured this out on his own. By trying to help him, I’ve condemned myself to hell. I could blame Alek, but I only have myself to blame for thinking I could pull this off.

Frank’s chair tumbles over as he stands abruptly. Santo’s eyes narrow into slits—a silent warning to behave. They’ve got Alek where they want him.

“Let’s go,” Frank growls, gripping the crease of my elbow.

“Don’t be too long,” Santo orders. “We have much to discuss with Aleksei.”

My body is a live wire, and Frank’s hands only ignite the fuse. I don’t fight him because I want to be as far away from Alek as I can. The moment we’re out of that room, I exhale, my body shuddering as I attempt to breathe.

Frank either hasn’t noticed my impending meltdown, or he doesn’t care. He hauls me up the stairs toward our bedroom and practically tosses me inside. My mind is racing, as is my heart.

“That smug bastardo!” Frank curses, tugging at his hair as he paces the room. “I should go back down there and kill him for embarrassing us in our home!”

As I slump onto the end of the bed, my mind goes into self-preservation mode because how am I going to get out of here? My grand plan just unraveled. Knowing Alek would be waiting for me at the end of this was the only reason I persevered.

But now, I have no one.

Tears I’ve tried so hard to keep at bay break the surface because I’ve never felt more hopeless than I do right now. I bite my cheek to stop from crying in front of Frank, but I can’t stop them. Fat, ugly tears roll down my cheeks as I gasp for air.

“Why are you crying?” Frank shouts, angered that I’m not more sympathetic to his complaints.

“I-I-I—” I’m trembling so badly that I can’t form a coherent sentence, which infuriates Frank all the more.

“Anyone would think you’re upset he lost. You probably are. You probably couldn’t wait to spread your legs for him, you dirty whore!” He rushes over, and before I have