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It's all for the chess game. I’d been embroiled in this struggle with Beaumont for years, since the feud ha begun with my late uncle and Gustave. Despite it all, Beaumont Senior carried on his nefarious business, and the fact that he continued was why I had to consider this proposition. If Gustave was offering his daughter, it meant he had other schemes up his sleeve, and having a personal connection through his daughter created opportunity for me to find out. She could be my link to ending him once and for all. It was for these two reasons that I was considering the marriage. It had nothing to do with that body in that sleek, jewel-tone dress. Or those lips I saw every time I closed my eyes.
Snatching the plastic bag with the contract, I left the car, reminding myself I needed to drop the paper at a laboratory on my way to my job tonight so they could confirm if there were any substances staining the parchment.
As I jogged into the house, I tried to channel the strange fire that was still alive in my veins. Gustave was a terrible foe, but his daughter...what was she like under the skin? There was no doubt Talia Beaumont was an enticing package. If I went through with this, I couldn’t touch her, not even if I married her. I was certain a trap lay in wait if I did, and until I knew exactly what Gustave and his daughter had up their sleeve, I was going to be the epitome of control, no matter if there was a seductress wandering the halls of my house.
Chapter 4 – Constantine
The anonymous contractsaid ‘kill.’ Nothing more. My method was to make the assassination look like suicide. I was very good at what I did, because I strove to understand everything I could about the situation, even when a hire was anonymous. However, it was only too easy to discover it was the wife who wanted her husband gone.
I was swathed in black, hiding in the target’s garage. It was late, and he should have been home tending to his wife. But he wasn’t, nor was he with his mistress. There was a new flavor of the month he was currently sampling.
My services were highly sought after, only available through discrete channels on the dark web, because I could slaughter damn near anyone. I was more than the underworld’s butcher; I was an angel of death. If someone needed disposing of, I killed them. Simple. Yet, my reputation as a smuggler was nearly as hefty.
I was bored, and it was only natural my mind would wander while waiting for my target to arrive. What made me frustrated, however, is that it tracked right back to Talia Beaumont.
Why would any woman consider marrying a monster? Even if her father commanded it?There was more to this mess than met the eye. I was certain of that the more I mulled his proposition over. Not for the hundredth time, I considered how easy it would be if I could simply put a bullet in Gustave’s head or wrap my hands around his thick, Gallic throat. But the bastard was slippery. Even for my skill.
On paper, the Beaumont family didn’t exist. Which meant there was an airtight alias they hid behind. Dirty money made that possible. And the few times I’d physically tracked him, he vanished, leaving behind no evidence to lead me to his next lair. I wanted Gustave dead, and if he hadn’t chosen to meet me in Club Black—of which had an owner I respected—I could have ended him tonight.
But then Talia wouldn’t be mine.
The thought came out of nowhere and sent a hot, possessive pulse through me. I didn’t want to think about anyone else touching her, and the image of my hands around her father’s throat shifted to being around hers. The image created a surge of lust. Oh yes, there were things I could do toherthroat—things that wouldn’t hurt her if she took every hardened inch of me like a good little girl.
The garage door creaked up, rousing me from my thoughts, and I straightened, focusing on the target. The sleek, silver Porsche rolled into the stall and stopped. The door came down, and as it lumbered shut, it sealed my target’s fate.
The sudden silence was punctuated with the click of the car engine. The target opened the car door but remained in his seat, looking through his phone. He thought he was safe, with no idea that his maker was ready to meet him.
Time to set up the introduction.
I pressed two buttons on the burner phone I’d rigged. The power for the whole property went out, and the security system locked the house down. The target rose in the sudden darkness, turning around his phone screen to shine a path toward the light switch. I knew there was one on a pole, marking the divide between the vehicle stalls, and I quietly watched him with my night vision googles as he flicked the plastic piece up and down, frowning. His demeanor was annoyed, not fearful.
Time to change that.
Four more pushes of a button and the other two vehicles in their bays automatically turned on. My victim froze, gaping in horror at the phantasmal cars before scrambling for a flashlight.
I peeled myself from my hiding place. Moving like a shadow, I stepped in front of him and snatched the phone from his hands. He jolted. I grabbed him.
