“I have a gift for you. Meet me at the old well tomorrow after morning prayer.”
When the music begins to fade, my heart plummets. This can’t be over so soon. My desire for her could cost me my life, but I remind myself that I’ll soon have every day to dance with her. When the song ends, I step back and bow. She dips her head toward me, and I can see the longing in her eyes.
“Thank you for the dance.”
“Thank you for coming,” she whispers.
I go to turn, only to be met with her father. “You dance very well. Who are you?”
His compliment is followed with bluntness, and for a moment, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
“Father, this is Joshua King. His father is—”
“I know who his father is,” he snaps at her. It takes everything I have to keep from balling my hands into fists.
“I thought the King’s couldn’t attend tonight?”
Speak, Raphael—speak!
“My father changed his mind. He and my mother are around here somewhere. She said we couldn’t not celebrate Jamila’s birthday.”
As soon as the words die out, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. Mila steps up beside me, an act I’m sure she wouldn’t do in front of her father if I were anyone else, let alone me.
Alessandro’s bushy brows move like caterpillars in the slits of his mask.
“He took your whore of a mother back, then? From what I understood, he’d thrown her cheating ass out for sleeping with her tennis coach.”
Now I get it. Thank fuck this King boy’s mother hadn’t died. I would’ve well and truly been fucked then.
“Yes. But he’s keeping a much closer eye on her now, and she’s not allowed to attend her tennis lessons anymore.”
Alessandro barks out a deep laugh as he slaps me on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry, son. Most of us have whores for mothers. Women can’t help themselves, the greedy bitches.”
Jesus. Is this what Mila has had to endure? He has no respect for anyone, let alone the women in his life.
“If you’ll excuse me, I should go find my father,” I say, swivelling to face Mila.
“Thank you again for the dance.”
And with that, I take my leave.
Once I’m outside, I breathe a sigh of relief before jogging down the front steps of the house.
I would’ve liked to share a kiss with her on our birthday, but I got more than I ever thought possible.
Chapter Fourteen
Jamila
By now, Raphael will know all bets are off and I’m fighting to the end. Marocchi soldiers are falling, but so are ours. Running my fingers over my cross, I send up a prayer for every one of my men who have lost their lives in the last three days and to their grieving families.
By lunch, we’ll have a delivery of weapons, and no longer will my men have to rely on what’s at hand to fight for me.
My thoughts turn to Michael, but I push them away. The time for mourning him isn’t today. He wouldn’t want me distracted with his death until the war is won.
My chauffeur stands by the car door, waiting to drive me to morning prayer when Trey arrives, motioning me back into the house.
He must have news.
He guides me into my office, and I take stock of his appearance. His hair is dishevelled, his dress shirt ripped down the arm, and the cuffs stained with blood. I can’t see any wounds on him, so it must belong to someone else.
“What happened to you?”
“I was fucking ambushed. As soon as I stepped out of the car, shots were being fired. If it weren’t for the Blake brothers, I would’ve been hit.”
“Where are they now?”
“Dead. This is their blood,” he says, looking at his cuffs. “Father Antonio set us up. There’s no way Raphael could’ve known about the meet.”
“Father Antonio wouldn’t do that to me.”
He’s as loyal as Trey, and I trust him with my life.
“Did you see who was shooting?” I ask.
“No, but it was a single shooter.”
So the distributor didn’t even show. “Raphael is behind this. Father Antonio wouldn’t have said who he was buying for, so how would they know?”
“Good fucking question,” he huffs, unbuttoning his shirt.
I look away. I know that the Camarco insignia is tattooed across his chest and reaches down to the top of his pants.
“Go get washed up. You can come with me and talk with Father Antonio before morning prayer.”
I wait for him in the car, and fifteen minutes later,