Reign of a Billionaire : A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Chapter 36Liana

The rising sun set fire to the horizon, inch by inch, lighting up the sky in the most beautiful colors I had ever seen.

I lay in bed, my gaze locked on the patterns thrown across the shutters.

A shadowed figure came into the room last night, leaving behind a food tray. I didn’t want to eat it, but the delicious smell wafted through the air, prompting an answering growl from my stomach.

I ate everything off my tray before grogginess overtook me.

When I woke up next, I found another tray with fresh eggs, bacon and toast, and orange juice. The works. Sitting up in the soft bed, I stared at the food, trying my damndest to resist it. But weeks of stale bread had made me weak, and I was like a bottomless pit.

Shoving the bacon aside, I grabbed a piece of toast and the eggs. I couldn’t eat fast enough, scoffing it down so I could make room for more. As I ate, I took in my bedroom in the light of day. It had arched ceilings with cream walls and various pink accents everywhere.

My favorite color.

My brows furrowed. No, it was Louisa’s favorite color. Mine was green. I blinked repeatedly in confusion. Dozens of hazy memories pounded inside my mind, making it difficult to sort through them.

Colors don’t matter, I told myself. It was an easy mistake to make. My twin and I had a lot of similarities. For most of my life, it was hard to decipher where one ended and the other began.

Instead, I focused on the food. An appreciative moan slipped through my lips as I savored it, all but licking my plate clean. I’d need it to give me strength for what I was about to do.

Kill Kingston Ashford. Escape this fucking place. Get back to Perez Cortes.

Before I was ready to do any of that though, I needed to sort myself out. So, I snooped through the room. Much like in his penthouse, he had dressers and closets stocked with new clothes, and the bathroom with toiletries.

I stopped in front of the mirror and gasped in horror. My skin was a canvas of blue and purple bruises, the black circles under my eyes telling the story of so many sleepless nights. My hair was a tangled, matted mess. My face was filthy, and so was the white nightgown I’d been forced to change into when I first boarded the ship.

Locking myself in the bathroom, I started the hot water and peeled off every piece of fabric. My nose scrunched in distaste as I picked up a whiff of my own stench, surprised that Kingston didn’t spray me off with a hose.

I’d have done it to him.

I stepped into the shower and let out an exhale, closing my eyes. Hot water had never felt so cleansing.

It was the small pleasures that made everything better, made our childhood bearable. Whether it was sneaking ice cream in the middle of the night or tucking ourselves into a quiet corner and letting our imaginations take us away from Mother’s hellscape, we had each other. And then it was snatched from me.

My fingers curled into fists, fury coursing through my veins. It was her fault my twin was dead as much as it was mine. Yet, for some reason, she’d made me suffer alone.

I turned off the water with unsteady hands, then wrapped a towel around my body.

Why did Mother despise me so much? As her treatment became more and more brutal over the years, I hoped my father would come to visit me and he’d see how much I was suffering. I hoped he’d see the error of his ways, and we’d join forces and destroy them all—Mother and the Corteses and Tijuanas of this world. Together.

I waited… and waited, but he never came.

Instead, Mother turned on me. Every time I deviated from the carefully constructed prototype she wanted me to become, she made me endure another session. My memories and those torture sessions had left me broken and scarred, despite the plastic surgeries.

Bile rose in my throat before I swallowed it down. Moving methodically, I dried off, hoping to scrub away from the past and focus on my plan.

Dressed into a pair of jeans, a light pink crewneck T-shirt, and a pair of Converse, I made my way out of the room and through the hallways, peeking inside each room. Multiple bedrooms in different shades of aqua, green, and blue.

My steps faltered at the blue bedroom. While the last two had been clearly vacant for some time, this one was occupied. A floor-to-ceiling window showcasing the breathtaking view of the crystal blue water. What in the fuck was this place?

Glancing around, I ventured inside.

A pair of military boots discarded at the foot of the bed. A wallet on the nightstand. An odd-looking bracelet with… My eyes locked on a revolver, bracelet completely forgotten.

Bingo!

I couldn’t believe my luck. I snatched the revolver and checked the chamber. One bullet.

I couldn’t resist a snicker. What kind of idiot left a revolver with a bullet in the chamber out in the open?

The clanging of pots from somewhere in the house startled me and I spun around, almost expecting someone to catch me red-handed, touching something I shouldn’t.

But the space was empty.

Gripping the gun, I followed the sound down the stairs. There was nobody in the dining room or living room. Another crash. I walked around until I found the kitchen.

And my captor.

To my amazement, Kingston was cooking—eggs, waffles, and pancakes. My stomach growled, despite woofing down my breakfast merely an hour ago.

He flicked me a glance, never pausing his movements.

“Good, you’re still awake.” His eyes fell to the gun in my hand, but his movements never faltered.

He was wearing jeans that hugged his ass like a second skin and a white T-shirt that revealed inky swirls. Despite his shortcomings, Kingston was a beautiful man.

“Obviously.” It pissed me off that I noticed anything about him. I should just put this bullet in his skull and end him.

Kingston didn’t appear bothered as he moved around his kitchen. And, since I was already noticing things about this man, I took note of his choice of design once more. Similarly to the upstairs rooms, this one boasted a wall of windows that led to the patio outside. For someone with such dark moods, this place seemed too cheery in contrast.

“Are you going to shoot me?” he prompted. My stomach growled again. Damn bodily needs. It was the last thing I needed or wanted right now. “Better hurry up and get it over with, then.” He nodded to the spread he’d laid out.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to say something.

“I warned you,” I muttered. “I warned you that I’d kill you.”

“Go ahead.” The air vanished from the room at his cold tone, something about him unnerving. “But hurry up so we don’t starve to death.”

I remained in place, taken aback by the nonchalant tone of his tone.

“You ruined everything,” I gritted, keeping my aim on him and my finger on the trigger. “Now, I’m going to make you pay.”

“Are you going to hold that thing all day, or can you help set the table?”

I refused to move, and with a sigh, he moved to the cupboards and pulled out dishes and utensils. I let out a sinister chuckle. Watching him do such domestic things after witnessing his lethal side was a trip. Maybe the man had a split personality.

In no time, the table was set and food was on the table. Two plates. Two glasses. Two sets of silverware.

He sat down and picked up a crispy piece of bacon, and my lips curled with disgust. His eyes flared with surprise and his jaw tightened. But then he got up, scooped up the bacon onto a small plate, and walked over to the trash can, throwing it out.

“Why did you do that?” I asked as he placed the empty plate in the sink.

He sat back down, eyes sweeping over my face.

“You don’t like bacon,” he said simply. The sound of his voice was deep and gruff, something about it getting to me every time.

His words sunk in. “How do you know?”

He shrugged. “Could be the way you scrunch your nose.” Those lips curled into a cruel smirk. “Either shoot me, Liana, or sit down and eat.”

Something about his nonchalance pissed me off, and I fought the temptation to grab a pan off the stove—preferably still sizzling—and throw it at his head.

“I don’t want to eat.” I tightened my grip on the gun and glared at him. “I want to kill you.”

He lifted his shoulder, looking at me in an unnerving way. “That revolver has been sitting in the same spot for years and hasn’t been cleaned once.”

“Why would you have a revolver with only one bullet on your nightstand?”

“Maybe I wanted to end it all.” I gaped at him, unsure whether he was serious. Maybe he was toying with me. “Want me to save you the trouble?”

I pursed my lips at his comment. He knew I was teetering on the edge, yet all he did was egg me on. He raised his brow in challenge, and I glared at him as my senses sharpened.

“Then a game of Russian roulette,” I declared, pleased with my quick thinking. “Since you’re so eager to end it all.”

I saw something flicker in his eyes. He took a bite of his food and swallowed before replying. “You can sit down, enjoy the food, and play the game at the same time.”

He behaved like a distinguished gentleman one second and a savage criminal the next. It was confusing as fuck.

Gritting my teeth, I stomped my way to the table and sat down, still holding the revolver. I wouldn’t eat, but I’d let the man have his last meal. What could I say? That shower must’ve done wonders on my humanity.

“Here, happy?”

He reached for his glass and took a drink of his orange juice, then raised his eyebrow. “Hardly.”

He watched me intently, his lips twitching, but he didn’t smile. It was as if he knew something I didn’t. This man was as annoying as he was handsome, and I didn’t like it.

I stared at him as he ate, the smell of eggs triggering a pang of hunger. Again. I really needed to reevaluate my priorities.

He pushed his plate my way. “Here.”

“There’s a plate in front of me,” I snapped.

“Yes, and you haven’t touched it.”

“Well, maybe you poisoned it.” Agitation climbed up my spine. We both knew he’d scooped eggs from the same pan, although he didn’t point it out.

One point for the kidnapper.

I pushed both plates away with the tip of my gun, ignoring another protest from my stomach. “If you’re done, let’s play.”

“I love games.” His voice darkened, and something about it had me thinking all kinds of sinful, carnal things.

“And I hate hearing you talk.” He slid his intense gaze to me. “I want you to explain how you know so much about me.”

And my sister, I added silently.