Cruel King: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Jillian Quinn

  “I’ll go to Damon then. He won’t stop me from playing a few hands at his tables.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Nino. “Don’t even think about going to Atlantic City. Damon will have you thrown out of his casino faster than you can cash out your chips.”

  Our cousin, Damon DeLuca, owned the Portofino Casino and Hotel in Atlantic City. He also owned half the strip clubs and restaurants in and around the town. Like my father, Damon had amassed an empire that was untouchable. We had every cop and politician from Long Island to Atlantic City on our payroll. With Damon moving so much legitimate money through his casino, it was easier for us to launder some of our illegal funds through his business.

  Damon also held an online auction he had set up to move anything from women to diamonds. But our specialty was choosing high-end women who wanted sugar daddies with certain needs. We made a lot of money for our family with our imports and exports. While my father handled the day-to-day operation of our routine business dealings, my brothers and I dealt with the more unsavory side of our business.

  He shook his head, irritated. “Just because we shared the same womb doesn’t mean you get to order me around. Damon wouldn’t turn me away, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  I gritted my teeth in anger. “I’m doing you a favor. Stop pushing it.”

  We walked down the alley in silence, and my stomach growled when I smelled the fresh bread baking at Vincenzo’s.

  “C’mon.” I tapped Nino on the arm. “Let’s get something to eat before we head home.”

  He followed me into the bakery, and we ordered a cannoli each. As per the usual, the woman behind the counter refused to accept my money out of respect for my family.

  On our way back to the car, I heard a loud crack, followed by a few grunts. The unmistakable sound of a woman yelling stopped me dead in my tracks. I stepped back from the fence, scanned the long alleyway, and spotted a girl swinging at a man around my height and build.

  I blinked twice to make sure I wasn’t imagining the scene in front of me. The girl swung her arm and slapped the man in the face. He grabbed her by her shoulders and lifted her up from the ground.

  I’d had enough. For whatever reason, I couldn’t avoid trouble. It called to me, drew me in every time.

  I chewed the rest of my cannoli and walked over to them with Nino at my side. Gripping the back of the man’s shirt, I pulled him off the girl, surprised to see it was Isabella Parisi. After I kneed him in the back of his leg, I knocked him to the ground and then kicked him in the face. Nino took his turn, all too eager to get a few punches in before I told him to stop. I wanted to teach him a lesson, not rearrange his face.

  Less than an hour ago, Isabella was getting her nails done, and now she was hanging out with this loser. I shook my head, irritated to see it was Chris Rizzoli, a man who worked for my father. From the looks of Chris’ face, Isabella got a few good hits on him, too.

  She was feisty, unlike the soft girl I once knew. Now, she was the kind of woman who needed to be tamed. Apparently, Chris had the same idea as me. But she was mine. No one was allowed near her. I threatened anyone who as much as glanced in her direction—my own family included.

  It didn’t matter she was off-limits. If I couldn’t have her, then no one could. I was a selfish, vindictive asshole and everyone knew it.

  I looked down at Chris and spit, my salvia landing next to his head. “Touch her again, and I’ll kill you.” I moved my hand to the gun at my waist, pushing my suit jacket back for him to see it wasn’t an empty threat.

  I would have gladly placed a bullet between his eyes if it meant keeping him away from Isabella.

  Chris spat blood at me, the loogie landing on my wingtip. “Fuck you, DeLuca. You’re not the fucking boss.”

  But I will be someday.

  “Fuck me?” I smirked at him, about to teach him another lesson for his disrespect. “Let’s see who’s fucked when it comes time to getting paid.” Then, I kicked him again in the face, wiping his spit on my shoe off on his skin.

  I looked at Nino and shook my head. “Can you believe this prick?”

  What a stupid motherfucker.

  An evil smirk tugged at the corner of Nino’s mouth. Then, he refocused his gaze on Chris, his leg already mid-air, raised to kick him again in the face. Following Nino’s lead, my foot collided with Chris’ stomach, drawing a loud groan from him. He covered his face with one hand and his balls with the other. We kept kicking until he was gasping for air.

  Chris rolled onto his side and sobbed with his hand over his face. Nino and I were both sick fucks, a crazed tag-team that couldn’t control ourselves once we started. Not until Isabella screamed for us to stop did I realize we’d gone too far. Chris’ face was a bloody mess, but he was still breathing.

  “This isn’t over, DeLuca,” he cursed at us under his breath and ran while he still could walk.

  Nino bent over and laughed. “That was fun.”

  I nodded.

  Violence was in our blood. Adrenaline shot through my system, further intensifying my high. My entire body came to life when I was doing bad shit, every nerve ending set on fire at the same time. At one time, Isabella had given me the same rush.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Isabella said from behind me. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to protect me.”

  I turned to face her and closed the distance between us when I saw the red handprint on her right cheek. “I’m sure you can, princess. But what kind of man would I be if I walked away?”

  “A smart one,” she countered with the hint of a smile on her lips. “I got a few good hits on him. I didn’t need you to come to my rescue.”

  I cupped the side of her face in my hand and inspected the bruise on her cheek, my jaw clenched in anger from what Chris had done to her. “I’m sure you can handle yourself just fine.”

  She was so angry about my intervention I didn’t understand it. This woman was more than capable of standing up for herself, but she couldn’t take on a man my size.

  “I’m not some damsel in distress who needs a man to save her.”

  I laughed. “I’m not the hero in your story, princess.”

  She smiled. “No, then what are you?”

  The corners of my mouth turned up into an evil grin. “The villain.”

  Too bad the villain never got the girl.

  Chapter Seven

  Isabella

  My entire life was a sham, nothing more than a sleight of hand to convince outsiders the Parisi family was perfect. Because on paper, we sparkled like diamonds when the light hit them just right. Even our house on Long Island was pristine, cared for by maids and chefs my father paid for with his dirty blood money.

  I parked in the circular driveway out the front of our house, which was more like a waterfront estate, surprised to find my father’s car. He was almost never home in the daytime, a sure sign something was wrong. Sucking in a deep breath, I clutched my purse in my hand and stepped inside, hoping I could sneak up to my bedroom without my dad noticing. No such luck.

  “Isabella,” my father called from the den.

  I stopped breathing, remaining eerily silent, until he called my name once more. Rolling my eyes, I said, “Yes, Daddy?”

  “Come in here, please.” His voice was stern, a low rumble that shot fear through my body.

  He was angry with me.

  What the hell did I do now?

  It was as if I could never meet his impossible standards. I set my purse on the entryway table and shrugged off my jacket.

  Carmella appeared from the hallway and was at my side, holding out her hand for me to give the jacket to her. “How was your spa appointment?”

  I handed her my jacket and purse. “It was nice, I think. Well, it was until I got into a fight with this asshole who keeps bothering me.”

  “Chris Rizzoli,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

  I nodded. “Yeah, he won’t leave me alone. He’s been following
me since I got home last week.”

  Carmella cupped my shoulder with her free hand and flashed a tiny smile for my benefit. “Maybe you should tell your father. He could talk to you know who about him.”

  She meant Giovanni DeLuca, Stephan’s father.

  I shook my head. “Definitely not. I don’t want either of them involved.”

  After my father had found out about the Tiffany necklace, he called the headmistress at a boarding school in Connecticut and had me sent away. I was forbidden from ever speaking to Stephan again. My father made it clear he would ruin Stephan’s life if I didn’t do as he’d asked.

  “Isabella,” my father yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing through the house. “Get. In. Here. Now.”

  My body trembled from his harsh tone.

  Carmella patted me on the back and said, “You better go before Mr. Parisi comes out here to collect you.”

  “I’ll come find you later,” I promised, and then set off toward the den.

  Carmella was the closest thing I had to a mother. She’d raised me when my own mother was incapable of spending a second of her time with me. Too busy pretending to be a politician’s wife, my mom was planning another brunch or stuffy dinner party with her snooty friends, all while she was sleeping with the wealthiest men in Manhattan behind my father’s back. She was an embarrassment to our family, one I tried to avoid at all costs.

  I wasn’t a factor in her life. From the second I was born, Carmella was the person who held me in her arms, nursed me back to health when I was sick, and even helped me apply my first coat of makeup. Every important life event was shared with Carmella.

  “Daddy, you’re here,” I said entering the den, putting on my invisible mask and fake persona. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Not at all.

  He glanced up from the computer on his desk, eyeing me suspiciously, as if he knew how unpleasant this was for me. “What’s this I hear about you hanging out with Stephan DeLuca?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, confused, and sat in one of the oversized chairs across from him. “I wasn’t hanging out with Stephan.”

  “No?” He removed a stack of photographs from the manila envelope on his desk and slid them toward me. “Then what are these?”

  I studied the pictures, unsure of how he’d know I was with Stephan, when I’d only seen him two hours before. “I ran into him on my way home. It’s not a big deal.” Gritting my teeth in anger, I added, “And how did you get these? Are you having me followed again? You promised to stop doing that.”

  “This re-election campaign is not going as smooth as I would have liked. I can’t afford any slip-ups, Isabella. It’s bad enough you decided not to attend graduate school in the fall.”

  “Oh, what a massive disappointment,” I shot back. “I don’t need a Master’s degree. Four years was enough for me. Would you let me work for at least a year before you start breathing down my neck?”

  “You will work on my campaign until I figure out what to do with you.”

  “Do with me? Would you listen to yourself? For your information, I was not hanging out with Stephan. He helped me.”

  “Why would you need his help?’

  “Because Chris Rizzoli won’t leave me alone.”

  My father sank into his oversized executive chair and rested his forearms on the leather. “You should have come to me about this. I could have dealt with that low life.”

  “How would you have dealt with a thug like Chris? Have him arrested on some bogus charge?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever means necessary.” His tone lacked any emotion, as did his face. “In fact, I’ll have him dealt with right now.”

  I wanted to slink out of my chair and run away when my father unlocked his drawer and removed the burner phone he used for emergencies. When he raised it to his ear, I knew who he was calling—Giovanni DeLuca. My heart ached when I thought of Stephan and how he’d saved me from Chris earlier. He was all grown up now, not the boy I’d remembered from high school.

  Chris Rizzoli had been bugging me for the past week. Almost every time we ran into each other, it was when I was in town to run a few errands, almost as if he had been watching me.

  “Gio,” my father growled into the phone. “We have a situation I need you to take care of for me.”

  It pissed me off to no end that my father could maintain his private friendship with Giovanni DeLuca, and yet I wasn’t allowed to as much as look at Stephan or his brothers. Not that I wanted anyone but Stephan to notice me.

  Something changed inside me the day Stephan gave me the choker with a small feather charm at its center. I was his back then. I still wanted that now. And the necklace I still wore around my neck, beneath my shirt, only proved it. My father had taken it away from me, but I stole it back.

  After he hung up with Giovanni, my father fixed his gaze on me, pinning me down with his evil eyes. “Alanna will be over later to fit you for a dress. The entire family is attending a charity gala. I expect you to be on your best behavior around Stephan DeLuca.”

  “That’s in the past,” I assured him, even though I would never shake Stephan from my thoughts.

  “Good.” He forced a closed-mouth smile. “Let’s keep it that way.”

  Chapter Eight

  Stephan

  I sat next to my father, Nino, and my older brother, Alessio, at our table at the center of the ballroom, all of us dressed in custom suits from Vaccaro’s. We blended in with the titans of industry and politicians who gathered here tonight, even though we were imposters.

  Most of the men in this room made Brian Delaney into the man they wanted him to be. Our new district attorney pledged he would help fight organized crime, when the criminals were the ones who gave this man his power. I sipped scotch and listened to Brian finish his speech about how he was grateful for all the support, more like thankful for all the money the men in this room threw his way.

  My father paid twenty-five thousand dollars per chair for the privilege of sitting next to the Mayor of Manhattan and other influential power players. I hated these events. It was a joke to rub elbows with the Mayor when I’d washed blood off my hands before I put on a new shirt and tie.

  Waiters walked past us with trays of champagne and fluffy looking pastries. I turned to my left and spotted Isabella Parisi. I held my breath without realizing it. She was so unaware of her natural magnetism.

  She grabbed a flute of champagne and popped a tiny pastry in her mouth, washing it down with half the contents of her glass. Her brother stood at her side. They talked about something which made her laugh. I loved seeing her happy and with a smile on her beautiful face. From a distance, I studied every movement she made.

  This party was boring-as-fuck, and I needed something else to keep me occupied. Isabella was a good distraction. She glanced around the room, her eyes finally meeting mine. I was surprised to get what could pass for a smile from her. Isabella dragged her tongue along her bottom lip, and I almost excused myself from the table to steal to her away.

  You’re mine, I thought.

  Her dark curls covered her full breasts, which were pushed up in the tight black dress that hugged her impressive curves. I thought about ripping her dress to pieces with my bare hands. Like a savage. That’s how I felt when I looked at her. She fueled the carnal hunger inside me. Her innocence spoke to my darkness, and I wanted to smother her with it.

  Isabella set her drink on the table behind her, tapped her brother on the shoulder, and whispered something to him, before she left the main ballroom. This was the only chance I would have to get her alone. So, I did the stupid thing and followed behind her.

  I found her wandering down the hallway, poking her head into rooms as she passed them. We were in an old mansion on Long Island, renovated to accommodate five event rooms, with suites and guest rooms on the upper floors. The men who paid for the district attorney’s campaign rented the entire estate—my father and Isabella’s among them.

  Isab
ella must’ve heard my shoes hit the marble floor, because she looked over her shoulder at me, with a smile on her lips. She sped up her pace as if she were baiting me into a trap. And then I wondered if this was part of her plan. I stalked toward her, my feet moving faster with each step she took.

  When we reached a dead end, she tugged on the door to the wine cellar. This game we were playing made my cock hard. I loved the chase, the feeling of power when I finally claimed what I wanted. Isabella Parisi fueled the sickness inside me without even realizing what she was doing to me.

  I took the stairs after her and combed through the dimly lit basement. Removing the cell phone from my pocket, I turned on the flashlight so I could navigate the thin, dense passages. In the back corner, the furthest away from the entrance, I found Isabella in front of a barricade of casks, stacked almost up to the ceiling. We would have privacy if someone were to come downstairs, something I would need if I wanted to take my time with her.

  Isabella had her back to me and pulled the cork from a bottle of red wine. She lifted it to her lips and took a long sip, making a satisfied sound.

  I turned off the flashlight, slipped the phone into my pocket, and moved behind her. “Want to share?”

  She yelped as if she was surprised to hear my voice, when we both knew she led me into the basement. It was no shock I was here right now.

  Isabella turned around, her back flat against a wooden cask. “Stephan, what are you doing here? You know I’m not allowed to talk to you.”

  “I was only following your lead.” I closed the distance between us and grabbed the bottle from her hands.

  She inspected my face closely as I took a sip from the bottle. “I don’t recall inviting you down here, now did I?”

  “No?” I cocked my head to the side and read the lie on her lips. “I’m good at reading people. I would say I read your signals perfectly.”