Cruel King: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Jillian Quinn

Someone yelled from a distance, followed by the entire party erupting into chaos. People scrambled over to the edge of the roof, gasping in horror. Some guests covered their mouths in shock, others screamed, while some took out their cell phones to call for help.

  Pushing away from my father, I moved through the crowd until I reached the edge, staring down in horror at the man, face down on the pavement.

  “Who is that?” Someone asked, the same question repeated for several minutes. “Did he jump from up here?” So many questions were being asked, but none of us could see the person’s face to answer them.

  My dad found his place next to me and asked if I’d seen my brother. I scanned my surroundings, desperate to find him. He had disappeared after we shared a drink, not to be seen since. The cops and paramedics arrived within minutes of the accident. Of course, my father had to be at the heart of the scene, forcing himself into the drama.

  I rode the elevator downstairs with my father. Police were roping off the crime scene with yellow tape. A man laid flat on his face, smashed into the sidewalk. Police ordered people to back up far enough to give them space to work.

  My father exercised his authority, and we were ushered forward. It wasn’t until we were standing right outside the roped off area that fear shook through me. A policeman handed my father a leather wallet I knew well. Because I had bought it when I was on vacation in Paris… for Mark.

  My eyes filled with tears that wouldn’t stop. I screamed so loud my ears hurt from the sound of my own voice. “No, no, no…”

  Mark was dead.

  My brother was the jumper.

  None of it made sense.

  He seemed fine the last time I saw him. Why would he do this? The longer I looked at his body, I couldn’t breathe, my chest so heavy it felt like it was weighed down with sand.

  “Senator Parisi.” The officer flashed his badge and introduced himself, all of it noise in the background. “I’m sorry to inform you, but your son, Mark, is dead.” He handed my dad Mark’s wallet that he’d retrieved from his pocket.

  My dad clutched it against his chest and dropped to his knees on the ground next to me, sobbing into his hands. I touched my fingers to his shoulder, tears of anger and sadness streaming down my face.

  Did someone kill my brother?

  Was it the man he said he had to deal with?

  Would he really jump?

  He had a history of mental illness and drug addiction.

  But still…

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Isabella

  I hated orchestra music. It was my mother’s favorite. She had insisted it be played during my brother’s funeral because she thought it would keep her calm. It used to soothe me when I was a child, and now all it did was remind me of death. My brother was dead, reduced to a human pancake. His body was unrecognizable. Because of that, we couldn’t have an open casket.

  No matter how hard I tried, I still couldn’t wrap my head around the situation. The medical examiner said my brother had enough drugs and alcohol in his system to kill two grown men before he plunged to his death. But I didn’t believe the toxicology report. Of course, my dad kept that out of the media. He had ways to manipulate everyone.

  I saw Mark less than an hour before he fell from the roof. No matter what the police believed, I knew my brother. Sure, he had his manic swings over the years and a thriving drug addiction, but he wasn’t suicidal. In all those years, he’d never tried to kill himself. He was going to help me run away from my father—not end his life.

  I stared at the bouquets of vibrant flowers that surrounded my brother’s closed casket and wanted to scream. My chest caved every time I took a deep breath. Tears blurred my vision to the point I couldn’t see.

  My father sat next to me, holding my hand. His touch felt forced and made my skin crawl. As usual, I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to beat the shit out of my dad.

  I blamed him for Mark’s death. He was the source of everything bad in our lives. All the pressure he put on my brother must have gotten to him. But nothing added up for me. Mark was fine the last time I saw him. What could have changed in such a short amount of time?

  I felt nothing.

  For no one.

  I was empty.

  And alone.

  Even in a crowded church.

  Stephan was there, but for all I knew, his family was responsible. He hid in the corner of the church, dressed in one of his usual tailored suits, looking like a Calvin Klein model. I glanced over my shoulder to find him still there, his eyes fixed on me, as they had been the entire time. He was my last hope. Maybe he could save me from this hell on Earth.

  We had a Catholic funeral mass, even though none of us went to church. I hadn’t gone in so many years I wasn’t even sure of the protocols anymore. I zoned out for most of the mass until my dad was called to the pulpit to deliver the eulogy.

  “My son was troubled,” he started, delivering what would be one of his finest performances.

  Senator Parisi was a brilliant speechwriter, his words capturing the entire crowd. It was all lies about our family, about my brother, designed to make everyone in the crowd feel sorry for him. The cameras were rolling, my father center stage, and he was on his A game.

  After he finished, the priest asked if anyone else would like to speak, and surprisingly I raised my hand. My brother deserved better than the half-baked speech my father had just given.

  The priest looked straight at me and called me forward.

  When I stood, my legs trembled, making it hard to walk in these heels. I staggered up the few stairs to the pulpit and slid behind it. “Thank you,” I said to the priest, who nodded and took his seat near the altar behind me.

  With my back turned to the priest and altar boys, I looked out into the crowd. There were so many people I had trouble seeing the back of the church. Most of Congress had shown up for the occasion. We had Wall Street bankers, local politicians, business owners, friends of friends, and anyone who wanted to get close to the Senator in attendance. I recognized people from middle school, high school, and even college in the crowd. Stephan’s family was also there, all the way in the back corner where he stood with his back against the wall.

  The more I stared at faces, the more nervous I became. Unlike my father, I wasn’t the best public speaker, known to break out in hives on occasion. This wasn’t one my finest ideas. But my brother needed me. Someone had to give him the eulogy he deserved, not the one my father wanted everyone to hear. Most of all, he deserved the truth.

  I pulled the microphone to me and tapped it with my finger, the sound reverberating throughout the church. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Isabella Parisi. Mark was my older brother.” I choked back the tears welling in my bottom lids. “Mark had his faults, but he was a good brother. He would have made a great politician someday.”

  There was an echo of agreement from the men in the front pews, my father included. He smiled at me as if saying he was happy with my speech.

  I gripped the front of the pulpit with one hand and wiped the sweat from my brow with the other. Damn, it was hot up there with so many people watching. My dress was tight, the fabric too close to my skin with how much it burned. Adrenaline shot through my veins, making my heart pump faster.

  “Mark didn’t jump off that building.” I looked right into the camera in front of me, the light blinding me. “Someone killed him. Avenge him. Please. Because I knew my brother… he didn’t kill himself.”

  My dad shot up from the front pew and held out his hand. “Let’s go, Isabella. Stop telling lies.” He turned to speak to those around him. “My daughter is going through a hard time. She doesn’t know what she’s saying right now.”

  I looked at Stephan who smiled at me as if he agreed with my clear defiance. He was amused by my outburst, though I couldn’t say the same for my dad. Giving Stephan a signal with my head he knew well, I power walked across the left side of the chu
rch and ran out the door, leaving my father to do damage control.

  Fuck him.

  No matter the outcome, I still held him responsible for Mark’s death, and that would never change.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Stephan

  Isabella rocked the church, disrupting the funeral service with her accusation about her brother. The crowd erupted into gossip. All eyes were on Senator Parisi and his wife after Isabella ran outside. Some of the people in the crowd seemed to understand she was having a hard time and wanted someone to blame. But I knew better. An accidental death in that family had the Senator’s name written all over it.

  Whether he shoved Mark over the ledge or not was irrelevant. He pushed his children, and now that I knew Isabella better, I was more aware of the constraints he put on them both. It would have been easy for her brother to take too many drugs and then get the courage to walk along the ledge and trip over his feet. But I doubted that was what had happened.

  I was standing at the edge of the roof with Nino when the incident occurred. Though I didn’t see him fall or even hear a possible altercation between Mark and someone else, the entire thing was suspicious.

  I followed after Isabella and found her in the middle of the parking lot of the church, hidden between cars. Sitting on the asphalt in her long black dress, she looked like my perfect raven, all made up with dark hair and bright red lips that parted for me.

  “Stephan,” she said under her breath, relieved to see me. “How much of an ass did I make of myself?”

  I sat next to her and slid my jacket off my shoulders. “Here, take this.” I offered my jacket to her, and she sat up enough for me to place it under her.

  She laid her head in my lap, staring up at me. “Help me. Please. Get me out of here.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Anywhere. Mark was going to give me the money. He had agreed to it that night, and then an hour later, he was dead. My brother was a drug addict, but he didn’t kill himself. I know it deep down in my heart he didn’t.”

  I twisted my fingers through her hair and sighed. “Your dad will come looking for you. No matter how much you want to escape, you will never be free.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “You know a lot of shady people.” Her voice was accusatory, but I wasn’t offended, because she was right. “Do any of them know how to smuggle people?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that question?”

  On occasion, I aided my cousin Damon in his private auctions. They were legendary in the criminal underworld. If you had specific tastes, Damon would find the right girl for you and have her hand delivered. For a hefty fee, of course. Sometimes, I assisted him in scouting the girls and arranging their movements to Europe. From there, our grandfather and his men took over. All of the girls were there of their own free will, some in desperate need of money, where others just wanted to be dominated by a rich man who could give them the life they’d always wanted.

  “Yes, I do.”

  I wiped away her tears with my thumb, and she smiled up at me. This girl was in love with me. I knew it without her saying the words aloud. And I felt something for her. I wasn’t sure what, but it was enough to want to protect her.

  “Do you understand what you’re asking of me?”

  She nodded. “I don’t care. Just get me out of here.”

  “The conditions are not the best. You would be around people who will make you wish your life was over. I can’t promise anything. But I can make a few phone calls. It’s not that easy to make someone disappear.”

  She tugged on my shirt to pull me to her. I closed my mouth over hers, and her lips parted for me. I slipped my tongue inside, tasting every inch of her. My forbidden girl smelled of vanilla and sex. Without reaching between her thighs, I already knew she was soaking wet for me.

  When our lips separated, she whispered, “Will you go with me?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t. This is where I belong. With my family. If you decide to do this, it will be on your own. You’ll be by yourself with people you don’t know, some of which don’t even speak English. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “I want to be wherever you are, Stephan.” She touched her palm to my cheek. “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

  “You’ll never have me,” I confessed.

  She sat up, her face twisted in anger. “Then why are you even here? Why would you offer to help me?”

  “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

  “Because you care about me.”

  I turned away from her for a second, not wanting to meet her intense gaze. “I feel the need to protect you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “But you can’t be with me.”

  “No,” I muttered. “I can’t.”

  “Because of your family.”

  I nodded, and she let out a long, exaggerated grunt.

  Her father was the real reason for all of this. I wanted to rip out the heart of the man who had caused her so much pain. But I wasn’t sure what kind of fallout plan he had in place in the event of his death. Senator Parisi was always ten steps ahead of everyone at all times. I would never underestimate him. He was capable of anything.

  “I need to know something…” her face was full of tears, dark makeup running down her cheeks, “… did anyone in your family have anything to do with Mark’s death? All of you were there that night.”

  Angry with her, I snapped. “How dare you accuse my family of killing your brother? He was a junkie. Not long before he died, Nino and I had to track him down to a crack house in Brooklyn and bring him home.”

  Her face writhed in pain. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I didn’t want you to get involved.”

  “I can handle the truth, Stephan. You don’t have to hide it from me. I’m a big girl.”

  I blew out a puff of air, annoyed. This conversation had taken a turn for the worst. I couldn’t believe she had the nerve to blame my family for her brother’s drug problem.

  “The truth is my family does things for your dad. We’ve cleaned up after your brother every time he’d gotten out of line. When he would go off the grid, on another bender, we would find him and bring him home. Your brother wasn’t stable. He wanted everyone to think he was okay, but he was far from it.”

  “I know all about it, Stephan. It was hard to hide Mark’s issues. I tried to conceal them, too.”

  “Just so you know, my family wouldn’t come to a charity event to kill your brother, when we had just saved his life. If we were going to kill him, no one would even know about it. And we wouldn’t do it in front of a public audience.”

  “But my dad would.” She rubbed her fingers along my neck, staring into my eyes. “I’m sorry. I want someone to blame. I don’t believe my brother did this. He didn’t want to die.”

  I twisted one of her curls between my fingers. “You don’t always know people as much as you think. I’ve learned that over the years. No one in my business is what they seem. Your brother had his demons. He used drugs to make them go away. Maybe he just wanted to end it all. We have no idea what was going on inside his head.”

  “Yeah, but he’d just offered to give me money to run away. Why would he do that if he was planning to jump?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. I wish I had an answer for you.”

  Holding onto her, I pulled both of us up to our feet and hugged her against my chest. “Are you ready to go back inside?”

  She held her hands up to her face and sobbed. “No, not really. I don’t want to deal with it all. My dad is going to have a stroke when he sees me. I made a scene in front of all his friends.”

  “I’m sure he’s smoothed it over by now. He has a way of charming people.”

  “One more thing,” she said, pressing her palms to my chest. “If I find out someone killed my brother, will you make them pay? For me.”

  I stroked her jaw with my fingers, the pain evide
nt in her eyes. “Yes,” I promised. “For you, Isabella, I would do anything.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Isabella

  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling Stephan had left behind. I craved his touch, wanting him even more after he’d left the church. I dragged my finger along my bottom lip and closed my eyes, remembering it was real. He was there with me when I needed someone the most, even if I could never have him. I treasured our brief moments together. In fact, I lived for them.

  I sat in the back of the limousine, waiting for my parents to take their places inside. My dad sat across from me, his jaw tense, his expression hardened. He looked pure evil, his dark eyes like soulless pits. We were away from the cameras and judgmental ears, back to our normal lives where we hated each other, where we no longer had to pretend.

  My mother didn’t look in my direction. She had a tissue balled in her hand and tears staining her cheeks. I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d spoken to each other. When she’d heard about Mark’s death, she sobbed so loud it echoed throughout the house. She refused to talk to anyone other than the help. My father only grew more wild and angry, while I became detached from reality, no longer wanting to deal with anything that wasn’t necessary—my family included.

  “That stunt you pulled might have cost me the election,” he growled. “How could you do that? And what would give you the idea that someone killed your brother?”

  “He didn’t jump off that roof,” I challenged. “We both know he didn’t do it. Mark deserves the truth.”

  “You know nothing, Isabella. I hid all of the horrible things your brother did from you because I wanted you to listen to him, respect him.”

  “I’ve known for years about Mark’s drug habit.”

  “He also had mental issues, you know that, too.”

  “I do. But he never tried to kill himself before. He wasn’t suicidal.”

  “Doesn’t mean he hadn’t thought of it.” He folded his arms across his chest, staring out the window as the driver left the parking lot of the church. “I can show you proof of his suicidal thoughts. Would that make you see differently?”