Chapter Three

Kade, 32

“Bold,” I said under my breath as I watched the little woman speak.

The same woman who had swung a tornado kick at me the previous night, mistaking me for a petty thief. She’d grazed my jaw and then tried to fight me like she had something to prove. Now she stood in front of me in a blue top, black trousers, and heels, speaking with a mix of nerves and confidence that didn’t match her size.

She kept avoiding my eyes at first, her voice shook a little, but the more she talked, the more she found her footing. She smiled once—briefly—and the room shifted. Not in a way that mattered, but enough for me to notice.

She wasn’t tall, nor short either. The ponytail showed off her curly brunette hair, and her chocolate eyes held more life than sense. She didn’t look like someone tied to anything dangerous.

Except she was.

I remembered her the moment she’d attacked me last night. I had already seen her name in one of the reports the week before. I made my men investigate every CEO or business owner connected to anything Damon was sniffing around. For some reason, Damon had taken an interest in her bakery. No explanation. No pattern connecting her to anything. Just his unnecessary interest.

So I watched her once or twice myself from afar. Her bakery was falling apart, her finances were a mess, she was ordinary, a witty damsel with childhood trauma and a failing business. Nothing special enough to draw my brother’s attention.

Yet here she was, standing in my boardroom, talking like she knew what she was doing.

I raised my pen and she froze midstep, and her eyes held defiance she tried to swallow. There had to be something about her that made Damon look twice and I would find out what.

“Miss Statham,” I said. “Your request is vague. Why should I put money into a bakery that can’t keep its ovens functioning?”

She straightened, meeting my gaze. “Because it has a chance to grow with the right support.”

“Based on what? Sentiment?”

“It’s based on data,” she replied quickly. “I brought reports—”

I cut her off. “Reports don’t change the fact that your debt is higher than your projected profit. I don't throw money at anything suckling in debts.”

She smiled tightly. A fake smile. The kind people gave when they needed something and didn’t want to show frustration and I could tell she would rather throw her papers in my face if she had a choice.

I continued, “If I invest, I expect returns. What guarantee do you have that your bakery won’t fold in a year?”

She inhaled, clearly trying not to react. “I have plans to expand the menu, improve the location’s visibility, and rebrand—”

“And what makes you think you can handle that when you couldn’t even keep your staff from quitting last month?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “How did you—”

“I know everything I need to know.”

She swallowed and smiled again, even faker this time. I counted her as one of those people who would smile to get what they wanted and it irritated me. As much as I loved that people fear me, I love being challenged. I love it when they tell me they have a voice, even if I'll end up winning, they will attempt.

“I know it might seem like investing in me is a risky choice, sir, but I promise you, I’m not only hardworking—I work smart too, and—”

“And what if—”

She closed her eyes, then reopened them, a flicker of anger flashing across her features. “If you’d just let me finish, sir, I could convince you even more.”

I smiled. That was the fire I wanted. I wasn’t finished yet, and before I could press further, Javier stepped close, leaning in to whisper. “Boss,” he said, “they found one of Xaviero’s men. The one from nine years ago. The shooter.”

My fist tightened under the table. That man. The one who pulled the trigger on Celine’s younger sister, and the reason I went out the previous night before running into Raven and her stolen purse incident.

 Damon’s amateur thieves had been roaming the area, and If she had chased further into that alley, Damon would’ve gotten her first and used her as another plant for his drugs. What angered me more was that the idiot thief wore my jacket to do something that stupid. I made Javier teach him a lesson, he was lucky he wasn’t dead.

I stood. “Summer, finish the interview. Prepare the necessary documents.”

Summer and the two men who handled my Washington operations nodded quickly. Javier followed behind me as we left the room and headed toward the lower floors where the private ring was located.

“Everything is set,” Javier said. “Valerie Statham will be here in two hours to sign the marriage contract. These are the documents for both ladies.” He held two envelopes.

  “Statham?” I questioned and he nodded once.

  “They're not even families and they have the same last name. I did some research.”

I nodded once, I didn’t care for marriage, I didn't even want it. The only reason it mattered now was because of the vow I’d made when I was nineteen. A decree Damon assumed I’d forgotten. He’d been waiting for me to slip, to let the age limit pass so he could use it to take the seat from me, so I delayed it on purpose to make him relax, to make him think I wasn’t paying attention.

Javier opened the door to the dark hall. Benard Hastings was tied to a chair, face covered with leather. His muffled voice begged through the mask.

One of the guards peeled it off. Benard’s panic became clearer the moment he saw me.

He always looked like a man hiding from his own sins. Now he faced them.

I picked up the same knife he used nine years ago. He recognized it instantly and tried to laugh, like this was something he could talk his way out of.

They all knew about the vengeance list. Everyone who touched Celine’s family and mine that night, and I had wiped out most of them, chased the survivors across borders. They called me many things. The Reaper was the one that stuck.

“Kade please. You can't kill me over something that happened a decade ago.” Benard tried to negotiate.

  “Yet you killed them over something that happened three decades prior, even before she or her siblings were born.”

 “It was justified,” he said quickly. “The Romano family betrayed us. It was the rule. We followed it.”

“That so?” I asked. “So what did my Father do?”

  “Your father's death was a contract. You know better how the Mafia operates. If you’re angry, take it up with your brother,” he continued, voice trembling. “He gave the information. Or with Xaviero Del Rios who ordered it.”

I closed my eyes. I had killed tons and hundreds to know who had all those deaths orchestrated. They are no news to my ear, and no jag to my heart.

  “And you?”

  “I only followed orders. You can't kill me for that.”

He talked like speed would save him. Like someone would burst in and rescue him if he said something useful. Foolish.

I stepped closer and he shrank back against the chair.

“You destroyed lives over a fake lead,” I said plainly. “You didn’t even investigate properly.”

“It was urgent,” Benard stammered. “You know the outfit. You were a member—”

Bad choice of words.

Before anyone could react, his scream tore through the room as I drove the knife into his left thigh, ripping flesh apart. I pulled it out and drove it into the other one. Blood spread across the floor.

He cried out, choking, shaking so hard from the agony.

I lifted the knife again. “I was never a member, you idiot.”

Then I buried it straight into his throat.

His body jerked once and went still.

A strangled muffle echoed from the corner. I turned instantly, so did my men, all armed and ready.

I scanned around swiftly before a sharp movement trying to hide away caught my eye.

Brunette hair, wide eyes and blue shirt.

Raven.

She was trying desperately to hide, to shrink into a shadow that wouldn’t notice her. Her hands covered her mouth, but her breathing was loud enough for even the men across the room to hear.

A snort escaped me. So she did follow me here. Is that why Benard wanted her? Because she saw something she wasn't supposed to? Or because she's his? A spy?

Javier stepped forward quickly. “Boss, do you want us to take care of her?”

I raised a hand, stopping him.

“No.”

I walked toward her direction slowly and she he froze into place. With the way she reacted, and the weak kick last night… I want badly to unravel her. And if she was sent by Damon, well, good for them both.

“Why not bring a pen instead,” I said, my voice calm as I turned back, walking towards the only table in the room. “Our beautiful baker must be very eager to sign if she came to find me herself.”