Justine is distant because she’s hormonal and pissed I refuse to ask another man’s permission for her hand in marriage. I’m not standing my ground because I’m stubborn. It is because I’d rather die than admit she belongs to anyone but me.
I understand she wants to be asked to become my wife instead of being told, but why can’t that occur without begging another man for permission?
I am the king. I answer to no one—except her.
My molars grind to stubs when Roman mutters, “You’re treating her as if she’ll break at any moment.”
“And how do you suggest I change that, Roman? Should I sit back and watch her get hurt just so I can say, ‘I told you so.’” Not waiting for him to reply, I stand to my feet and head to the door. “How about you do the job I pay you to do instead of counseling my relationship?”
Roman’s reply is barely a grumble, but I still hear it. “You won’t have a relationship if you don’t pull your head out of your ass.”
If I were worried about my status in Justine’s life, I would retaliate to his sneer with violence. Fortunately for him, I have no doubt about my influence in her life. Justine is carrying my child, and her finger will soon bear my ring. Away from people who don’t understand how we operate, our relationship is solid.
Maddox knows the rules. It is the reason he hasn’t snitched a syllable to anyone since his release but me. Landon and Sebastian, though. . .they’re thorns in my ass. Their numerous comments about my job being a choice is frustrating the fuck out of me.
My position can’t be filled by any man. I was born for my role and killed to get where I am. I even butchered the man who raised me for it, so to have its importance brushed off as if it is worthless doesn’t just annoy me, it pisses me the fuck off.
If they were any other men, their foolhardy remarks would have been snuffed out by the loss of their vicious tongues. Mercifully for them, just like Roman, I consider them family.
Family is not flesh and blood. It is people who honor and respect you—factors these men will learn the hard way if they don’t come around fast to the idea that I’m a permanent figure in Justine’s life.
They gained my respect for the admiration they have for their sister, but they’ll lose it just as quickly if they continue their attempts to drive a wedge between us.
If I had it my way, Justine and I would have returned to Vegas four days ago. Alas, my queen is as stubborn as she is beautiful. She’s confident I misunderstood her brothers’ sneers, that they not only respect me, they respect my line of work.
I think she is full of shit.
Her brothers don’t want me marrying her any more than they want me fucking her. Why do you think I’m so hesitant to seek her father’s permission for us to wed? If his thoughts match his sons’, he’ll never give it to me. And since he’s sheltered under the same umbrella as Justine, he can’t be punished for disobeying my direct order.
It’s a lose-lose situation.
If I retaliate, I’m asking Justine to give up the people who guarded and loved her before me. If I let their comments slide, I’m seen as weak by my men and others in our industry.
I don’t want either of those things to occur, but I’m at a loss on how to stop it.
Cursing the humid afternoon air, I dig my cigarette pack from the pocket of my jeans. The unlit cancer stick sits between my lips until I break through the back door of the patio. I’m dying for a hit of nicotine, but since Justine’s mom asked for my men and me to smoke outside, I have to wait. My men rarely follow the rules, but since Karan’s request was more a suggestion than a demand, they’ve happily obliged.
I freeze with a lit match an inch from my cigarette when a heavy set of double standards smack into me. Something as simple as not wanting cigarette smoke absorbed into replaceable fabrics can be upheld without asking, but I expect Justine to become my wife without so much of a discussion.
I’m a fucking asshole.
I told Justine she’d want for nothing when she took her throne, yet I’m holding her greatest wish hostage because I can’t wrap my head around the idea of other people having an influence in her life.
I’ll never kneel at the feet of my enemy, but I can bow for my queen.
I’m drawn from dangerous thoughts when shouted words capture my attention. One voice I immediately recognize, although I prefer hearing it risen in ecstasy than in the anger it’s holding now. Justine’s fury is undeniable in her low tone.
After stubbing out my cigarette with my boot, I round the corner the voices are coming from. Justine’s voice grows with every step I take, which in turn quickens my pace. I’d sprint if I hadn’t recognize the uneasy tone of the man she is tussling with. It can only be one of three people: Landon, Sebastian, or Maddox.
My questions are answered when Justine sneers, “I swear to god, Sebastian, if you say one more bad word about him, you’ll not only have Nikolai purged from your life. . .” The way her tone dips during the last half of her comment reveals she’s repeating something Sebastian said earlier. “. . .you’ll also lose me. Is that what you want, Saint?”
Her use of Sebastian’s nickname reveals her anger will be quickly set aside if he gets with the program. It also proves without a doubt that she loves her brothers, but her love for me is even greater than that.
That alone should have me stepping away from their exchange, not toward it, but I never back down when challenged. Justine is more than capable of handling herself when it comes to her brothers, but I’ll never be too cautious when it comes to her.
Justine’s flaming-with-anger face enters my peripheral vision at the exact moment Sebastian grips her arm. His firm hold sends my anger to a point it hasn’t reached since I was sixteen.
“You can’t be serious, can you? He’s the same as the monsters who didthatto you.”
