The King Killer | Mafia dark romance | ✔️

10. Get your hand off her

Valentina

"It's a hundred degrees outside." Nico pointed towards the well-lit sun outside the window that made everyone perspire. "Why are you wearing a scarf like a muffler?"

I could feel the intensity of his stare burning me as I continued writing. The accounts were being transferred from us to the Moralez and I was ensuring everything went smoothly. It was crucial for the plan- my plan- for the businesses to be merged.

Nico stayed back to help me instead of returning to Spain to conduct his business. Although that's the justification he told everyone, I knew the real reason. Before my wedding, we fought and have barely spoken since. Though Nicolas was a tough man, with me, he was never able to continue the fight. Making up was always his thing.

Checking the ledger, I ignored his comment. However, he decided to press on the matter till I cracked.

"Talk to me, dammit." He waited, towering over me and casting a shadow on the books I ran my finger through.

"I wanted to feel warm."

He moved closer, his cold palm landed over my forehead. Not a doctor, yet he tried to play one. His other hand took my wrist to check the pulse while I sat still, awaiting his diagnosis.

"You don't have a fever," he said, eyebrows bridging upwards.

"Ohh, really. And here I thought, I was gonna die of a spiked temperature." I laughed off his concern, concentrating on the ledger in front of me.

The scarf wasn't for any warmth. It was to hide the war scars; ones which Antonio and I inflicted upon each other. The collateral damage due to an arranged marriage.

Nico's hand travelled across my neck, unwrapping the scarf. He was faster than me. Before I could protest or far from it, hold back his hand, he stood witness to the bruises I meticulously tried to hide.

"Who did this to you?" His voice spiked with rage, heat radiated off his body. I'd never witnessed an angry Nicolas before and after today, I never wanted to either. He was always the calm-headed man while I was the hothead, the messed-up woman in the family.

Today, our roles reversed.

Witnessing me assaulted by a man who vowed to protect me was too much for Nico's fragile heart. Before my words could pacify his reddened face, his fluttering nostrils or his heaving chest, he walked out of the room, teeth-gritting so loud, I felt bad for his dentures.

Pacing behind him, my hoarse voice couldn't get any louder, trying to tame the galloping horse.

Nico dashed towards the hallway leading to Antonio's study. Wooden carvings of ancient Mayan and Hindu gods decorated the face of the door. Its brass handles were darker even under the tiny chandelier than hung near the door.

Fisting his hand, Nico drummed at it. "Open you, goddammit." Louder and louder, the thumping resonated along with his guttural voice.

The doors creaked open. Seated behind the heavier structure was the man I was forced to call my husband. Alejandro stood guard at the door, peering at Nico who resembled like he ran a marathon. Nico panted while speaking, words fumbling around like he suddenly morphed into a baby.

"I need to... to see him... Antonio."

Alejandro looked over his shoulders, taking permission before turning back and flinging open the door completely. He moved back to reveal Antonio's silhouette that sat at the far end of the room under a dim-lit table light.