The Knight (Stolen Duet 2)

“And then he became the Knight?”

“It’s as you said. Alexander didn’t trust his son. Not only that, but Angelo, Alexander’s brother, wanted his own son to reign. Alexander was too proud to dismiss his heir outright, so they made a pact, and Alexander included a clause in his will. His son would forfeit his place as head of the family, and that right would be transferred to Angelo’s line.”

“Why do all of your names begin with ‘A’ except for Reginald?”

“It’s a tradition started by Alexander. Sort of like branding each firstborn son.”

Her eyebrows pinched together. “What happens if you only have girls?”

“Then power—the legacy—goes to the next eligible heir. For descendants of Meredith and Angelo, the legacy will default back to Alexander’s line.”

I hid my smile when she rolled her eyes. It was a barbaric practice, but Alexander wasn’t a modern man. “As for Reginald’s name, his father wanted nothing to do with family tradition or our business dealings, and neither did his father.”

“So, if Adan hadn’t killed Archibald, wouldn’t this whole Bandit business have died with him?”

I nodded. “Archibald was seventy years old and still in power when Adan killed him. He thought August was too weak, but I believe the truth was he didn’t want to relinquish power. Fortunately, Adan had been well within his rights to kill Archibald and seize the legacy which didn’t August wanted nothing to do with the family business and shielded Andrew from that life as much as he could.”

“But he still named him Andrew…”

“Archibald’s doing,” I muttered. “Andrew shared his father’s sentiments and named his son Reginald.”

“And then there’s Reginald who fell a mile from the tree.” She seemed deep in thought as we shared the silence. “He knows the book is missing, doesn’t he? He’s here to kill you and take back the legacy.”

I still didn’t answer, but my silence was as loud as if I had roared. She shook her head and then dropped the weight on my chest. “I’m scared.”

I stiffened underneath her. Was it possible that little Mian Ross cared for me? I wanted to lift her head and stare into her eyes until I found the truth, but I didn’t. My hands continued to clutch the arms of the chair we shared. I couldn’t promise her nothing would happen to me, but I could make sure she was safe before I took my last breath.

“He’s never going to touch you,” I finally promised.

Her head lifted, and she met my gaze. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Her expression said she wasn’t fooled, so I sighed and said, “I’m taking care of it.”

“I don’t think I can be like you. I can never be comfortable with death.”

“What makes you think I’m comfortable?”

“You kill people and sleep well at night.” The truth wasn’t as black and white as she made it seem.

“I don’t mourn those I kill because if I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t do it.”

“What about your mother? She just died, and it doesn’t seem to have affected you at all.”

“I lost my mother a long time ago, Mian.” For the sake of not repeating an argument, I left out the fact that I blamed her father.

“So did I,” she whispered. “It’s been nine years, and while time may have numbed the pain, it hasn’t ever gone away.”

“We grieve differently, Sprite.”

“Except you didn’t grieve. You framed my father and ruined my life.” She started to rise from my lap, but a soft touch to her waist, unlike the force she was used to from me, had her freezing in place.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you.”

“But not my father.” It wasn’t a question. I swallowed hard to keep the truth from spilling. I didn’t want to fight with her, especially when my dick grew harder by the second.

“I wish I could be,” I said instead.

She watched me. Her green eyes glowed with hate and disbelief. “I wish I could be sorry too.” I didn’t see it until it was too late. The light caught the metal as she swung the knife, aiming for my throat. I wrenched the knife from her hand and shoved her to the ground. She slid across the floor. I rose from my seat and flung the knife out of reach as I stalked after her.

“Are you completely unconcerned with keeping your life?”

She smirked, the bitch. “You’re not going to kill me.”

“No, baby, I’m not going to kill you.” She started to rise from the floor. I quickly wrapped my fingers around her arm. “But I am going to fuck you.” She didn’t get the chance to struggle before I lifted her on the table. Mian made a lovely centerpiece.

She watched, frozen and fascinated, as I removed my shirt. Her gaze was stuck on my bare chest, so she didn’t notice when I joined her on the table. It wasn’t until I tugged that she realized where we were headed. “You think sex is the answer for everything,” she griped. “It won’t keep me from killing you.”