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

Chapter 43Liana

Ten years.

Kingston Ashford was our bodyguard for ten years, and judging by his tone, he blamed me for her death. And I… I couldn’t remember him. Except maybe in my dreams. I shook my head side to side. No, that couldn’t be him. Not if he was my sister’s lover.

My heart only ever thundered like this when I dreamt about the faceless man or was with Kingston.

Being here, effectively stranded on this island, I was faced with the fact that my mother was at the epicenter of my life’s worst moments. I’d known this for years, but the way she’d weaponized my loneliness made it second-nature to overlook. But I wouldn’t run from it—from her—anymore.

The great Sofia Catalano Volkov.

I brought my cold fingers up, rubbing my temples and closing my eyes for a moment while flashbacks I couldn’t piece together sliced through my mind.

My sister. The video of her torture. Santiago Tijuana’s words giving me hope. The man I dreamt about whose face I never saw.

Could that be Kingston’s face? It would line up with his time under my mother’s control but… How was it possible that I didn’t remember him? Or the events he spoke about? Could I trust him? Jesus Christ, was I attracted to my sister’s man?

I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t go home. Damn my mother. Damn this man who’d snatched me. All I knew was that if there was even the slightest chance I could save my sister—that she was alive for me to save—I had to try.

Rain streaked across the large windows, blurring my view of the ocean.

I loved the smell in this space; it had become my safe haven. Leather, firewood, and cigars. After sifting through the books and being unable to focus on a single book, I took a seat on the windowsill and stared at the horizon.

My breaths were quiet but my thoughts were loud. I couldn’t forget Kingston’s words, the accusations. Somewhere in the corners of my mind, warning bells went off, but I couldn’t understand them.

Maybe I was going crazy.

I propped my head against the cool glass and closed my eyes. My body trembled as I was dragged back to the broken images playing in my mind.

I stared at the bowl of ice cream in my hands and let out an exasperated sigh. “Will they ever get this right?”

“Probably not.” I looked up to find my sister already handing me hers. “Do you prefer vanilla sex?”

“Hey!” I glanced around to ensure nobody heard us. “Bring your voice down a notch.”

“Jesus Christ. It was a joke.”

I rolled my eyes.

“A bad one.” She shrugged, studying me. We both sported high ponytails. It made it easier to fuck with guards who couldn’t tell us apart. “This is exactly what I was saying—you need to focus on what matters. Be ready to leave.”

“Are you sure?” Worry was etched on my twin’s face, and it had the desired effect of snapping me into seriousness. “If we get caught, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“She won’t catch us.” Did I say those words or did my sister? “I’m not leaving without you.”

“I’ll be a third wheel.”

“Never.” My forehead rested against hers, our hearts beating as one. “Mother can’t be saved,” I whispered. “We both know that. Papa said so himself.”

“He’s not much better,” she spat, bitterness lacing her voice. “He left us with her.”

My lungs squeezed and my hands holding the ice cream bowl became clammy. “You know she threatened his life. His children’s lives.”

“We’re his children too, and he had no issue abandoning us.” Distress on her face clawed at my chest. “Why are they more important than us?”

My stomach churned with nausea. Of course she was right. Papa had sons and one other daughter who lived a life of being loved and cherished while we witnessed horrors and lived in fear of Mother’s men, husband, and enemies.

“They don’t matter,” I said, trying to calm her down. “And when we’re far away from here, we’ll forget them all. It’ll just be you, me, and⁠—”

The rumbling sound of thunder beyond the window startled me awake, my mind grasping at straws. No, no, no. I was so close! You, me, and who? Was it Kingston? I wasn’t sure, but if they were together before she—she… And after everything he revealed about wanting to run away before she died… God, I was unraveling, and it only felt like the beginning.

I was still no closer to trusting him. After all, he’d purchased me at an auction like I was a slab of meat. He yanked me away from Perez, taking away my chance to find out what happened to my sister.

I hugged my hands around my waist, studying my surroundings, but the library was empty. I slumped against the window, the dream still fresh in my mind.

Agony licked at every fiber of me as I dug through the memory. I had every reason to believe it was a real memory—the images of my sister so vivid it made my heart hurt.

I wiped my sweaty hair off my forehead and heaved a sigh. This was the most I’d remembered since her death. We were talking about running away. Just like Kingston said.

Peering through the fogged-up window, I noticed the remnants of the storm were finally clearing. I watched the clouds slowly drift away—for minutes, maybe hours. I couldn’t help but feel envy; they came and went, enjoying their journey, while I remained stuck here. Confused and troubled.

Sliding off the windowsill, I quietly made my way out of the room. The hallway was empty, the home eerily quiet as I made my way down the stairs.

I clutched the handrail for balance, almost expecting for Kingston to jump out from the shadows like a ghost and push me to my death. Or back into my room. The jury was still out on his intentions.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, I swung the front door wide open. The birds chirped, calling me to freedom. I followed the call, and as soon as I crossed the threshold, my eyelids fluttered shut in bliss.

Freedom.

It might be fleeting, but it felt so good. I tipped my head back and relished in the sensation of the sun on my skin, the salty air on my tongue. I could hear the waves crashing in the distance, and a jolt of happiness shot through me.

I started walking, then running, faster and harder, my muscles screaming from the effort. Sweat rolled down my back, the jeans I wore too hot for this. But I ignored it all.

It felt like hours of running, although it couldn’t have been more than five or ten minutes when I stopped abruptly.

White sand greeted me and I stepped onto it, my shoes squeaking. The sun cast a beautiful shade of bubblegum pink in the sky, its reflection bouncing off the smooth surface of the water. It was a picture-perfect sight.

The fingertips on my left hand zinged in that old, familiar way, eager to grip a pencil and sketch, immortalizing this view. I brought my right hand to my left wrist, wrapping my fingers around it as I twisted it in a circular motion, a habit I’d picked up somewhere over the years.

I kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned my jeans, pushing them down my legs. Left in my panties and T-shirt, I walked down to the water. I waded up to my thighs, reveling in the salty water lapping at my legs.

The cool water felt refreshing and relaxing, my tension slowly seeping away. A prickling sensation traveled down my spine, and I looked behind me. Dark eyes were trained on me, making my breath catch.

Kingston.

His presence hovered over the beach like a dark cloud as he studied me. Slowly, I waded out of the water, holding his gaze until my feet touched the sand again.

“You’re ruining my sunny day.”

No answer, just that heated gaze touching my skin.

My blood thrummed in my ears, our last encounter still fresh in our minds. Something in his gaze held me captive. I could still feel his hands on my body, his hard body pressed against mine. A bead of sweat rolled down my spine despite the cool water and light breeze caressing my exposed skin.

I realized it wasn’t my best move to be caught with my pants down—literally—as one of the most lethal men in the underworld aimed his attention on me.

“How about some privacy?” I asked, reaching for my discarded jeans.

“It’s too late for that. After all, I tasted your pussy. Privacy is a moot point now.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Nonetheless, I’d like some now.” I held my breath, waiting for him to move. Or to at least acknowledge me. He didn’t do either. “Fine, stare away.” I rolled my eyes. “I shouldn’t be surprised you’re not averting your eyes like a gentleman.”

I held his eyes as I discarded my wet panties and put on my dry jeans. To his credit, his gaze didn’t dip lower. He folded his muscular arms over his chest, his dark tattoos on full display, and his eyes locked with mine.

Ever since that game of Russian roulette, I’d been captivated by this man, and it turned out he might be just as nuts as I was.

“I’m not.”

“You’re not what?” I said, tilting my head to the side.

He studied me for another second before speaking, his voice deep. “I’m not a gentleman.”

“You could have fooled me,” I remarked wryly.

He tilted his chin toward the sea. “Isn’t snow more your thing?”

I shrugged. “Isn’t hell more yours?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, and something fluttered in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t like it. The things I was feeling were disturbing and unwanted. Yet, controlling it was as futile as swallowing oxygen underwater.