Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1) Read Online A. Zavarelli

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Empire of Kings Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
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“Alright, spit it out,” I tell him. “What crawled up your ass?”

“Nothin’.” He shoots me a sideways glance.

“Clearly, you have a problem,” I snap. “So tell me what it is.”

There’s a lengthy pause before he heaves a sigh. “It’s Abella.”

The mention of her name on another man’s lips unfurls something primal in my chest. It doesn’t matter that he’s my most trusted capo. I don’t like it.

“What about her?” I grit out.

“She asked me not to tell you,” he says, those words settling between us like a live grenade.

“And you think that’s a fucking option?” I growl.

He shifts under the weight of my stare. “She mentioned the visit between you two last night, and I got the impression that’s how she ended up with the mark on her face. It didn’t sit right with me, boss.”

I digest that for a minute, irritated that she’s trying to manipulate him and equally bothered that I don’t know what he’s talking about.

Tension stretches in my chest as I consider the possibility that someone actually hurt her. My fingers flex, then curl into fists at my sides. The image of her marked by someone else stirs something violent and possessive in me.

I level Nicky with a murderous glare. “What part of tell me everything did you not understand?”

“Sorry, boss.” He lowers his gaze.

“Your loyalty lies with me,” I remind him. “You’d do well to remember that.”

“I know.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “I fucked up.”

I don’t bother to tell him she has that effect on everyone.

“What kind of mark was it?”

“It was red and puffy—looked like someone smacked her around if you ask me.”

I lean back in my chair, my voice far calmer than I feel. “Who else had contact with her since last night?”

“Matteo was there this morning,” he admits. “Do you think she’s covering for him?”

Heat blisters beneath my skin, seeping into my veins and clouding everything around me with a red haze. I’m tempted to string him up by his dick and break every bone in his body while she watches.

It still wouldn’t be enough.

“How long was he there?”

“Not long,” Nicky says. “Maybe ten minutes.”

I swivel in my seat and glance out the window. “Don’t let him enter that house again before the wedding. I don’t care what you have to do.”

“You got it, boss.”

“And, Nicky?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever withhold information from me again.”

“I won’t,” he assures me. “There’s just one more thing I need to mention.”

“What is it?”

“She wants to talk to you,” he says. “Asked me three times.”

A pathological curiosity tempts me to consider it before I remember how and why we got here in the first place.

“Tell her to enjoy her upcoming nuptials.”

12

ABELLA

Awave of nausea rolls through me as I pause on the stairs to the private jet. Once I board, there’s no going back. I’m still holding out hope I’ll wake up from this dream any second now. But Gabi’s voice anchors me to the present, where the undeniable truth awaits me.

“You okay?” she whispers.

A panicky feeling settles in my lungs, triggering every survival instinct that tells me to run. I choke it down.

Pretend.

Pretend.

Pretend.

“Yes.” I force the word through clenched teeth.

Valentina sighs from her position on the top stair, reaching out to help me along. I fumble my way to my seat with their assistance, as far from my father as I can manage. It still isn’t enough to escape his glare when I take a glass of champagne from the stewardess and swallow it in three gulps.

“Don’t be sloppy, Abella,” he warns.

All eyes on the plane turn to me, and heat rushes to my face. It doesn’t matter that it’s just my bridesmaids on the flight. Being scolded in front of them like I’m a child is humiliating, no matter how you slice it.

Mariella shoots my father a glare when he turns away, and Valentina secretly flips him off. Truthfully, I don’t know why he’s even on the same flight when he could be traveling with the other men. But if I had to guess, this is his way of ensuring I don’t run off and his million-dollar wedding deal doesn’t fall through.

The stewardess returns and takes my glass, and I don’t dare ask for another one. As the crew prepares us for takeoff, we all settle in, and the cabin falls silent. My stomach is in knots as I stare out the window, wondering what the chances of survival would be if I parachuted myself off this jet at forty thousand feet.

My phone chimes, and I glance down to see a text from Matteo.

See you there.

I stare at those three words for far too long, typing out at least ten different replies, all of which revolve around me begging him not to go through with this. But in the end, I send none of them, knowing it’s already too late. He’s ignored every request I’ve made.



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