Ruthless Princess (Mafia Royals 1) - Page 79

Nixon wasn’t in his office, though; he was in the ring, and Asher was on the ground bleeding under him.

“The hell?” I roared. “Did you kill him?”

Nixon frowned over at me, sweat dripping down his muscled stomach. “Why would I kill him?”

“Because of today? Look if you’re that pissed to just single us out then—”

Asher raised a taped hand into the air. “Asked him. Wrote… eulogy.”

“Shit.” I grabbed one of the water bottles and tossed it to Nixon and watched as Asher groaned and moved to a sitting position. Blood dripped from his chin and somehow from his right ear. “You look like hell.”

“That’s what happens when you ask someone scarier than you to fight,” Ash grumbled. “I said ‘make me forget,’ not ‘kill me please.’”

“Yeah, I get those phrases confused often.” Nixon flashed a smile. “I think my work here is done. Don’t stay up too late. We have the funeral tomorrow, and don’t either of you show up drunk.”

“We would never,” I lied and then smirked.

Nixon just stared me down and then reached out and grabbed my forearm; I’d let the scar scab as it should.

“Your dad rose from the ashes,” Nixon sighed. “Then burned his entire family back into the cold dead ground only to have his son, his heir, resurrect the very evil we tried to keep out. I hope for your sake, you two know what you’re doing.”

I pulled my arm away and shrugged. “We’re doing the right thing, and we’re doing the only thing we know how. Putting more De Langes into the ground doesn’t keep you any more safe Nixon—it just steals more pieces of your soul, pieces that none of us really have extra of. If someone crosses us, we know what to do, but until then, the sins of the father…” I didn’t finish, but something flashed in his eyes, something that made me want to throw a punch.

“The sins of the father,” he repeated, giving me another strange non-Nixon like stare. “And do you admittedly take after him more or your mother?”

“What do you think?” I snapped.

“He’s all Phoenix,” Asher grumbled from the floor. “Down to the way he fucks.”

I knew it slipped before Ash could stop it.

And I knew in that moment that I flinched like I couldn’t stop it, which just proved what Ash said as truth—which meant I now looked guilty in front of my girlfriend’s father.

The air stilled, took on a tangible chill.

“Something you need to tell me, Junior?” Nixon leaned in until I could smell the blood and sweat from his skin.

I lifted my chin and ground out a. “No, sir.”

His blue eyes narrowed into tiny slits as he pressed a hand to my shoulder. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,” I lied. “I’m sure.”

“Okay, then.” His eyes flickered to my other arm. “Funny how you have a De Lange crest on one forearm and my trust on your other.” His teeth gritted together in a sneer. “Don’t break it.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I snapped.

“Whoa, whoa.” Ash stood on wobbly feet. “It’s been a long day. Nixon just beat my ass, so his testosterone can probably be smelled from upstairs.” He gave a gentle shove toward his uncle then joked. “Want me to kick his ass for you, Nixon?”

I snorted. “Like you could.”

Nixon finally smiled and then stepped out of the ring and grabbed his shirt. “Remember what I said, guys.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I called after him, trying to sound like I wasn’t ready to bang my head against the closest sharp object.

“Really, Ash?” I hissed once Nixon was gone. “You just had to say that?”

“My girlfriend’s dead, and I have internal bleeding. Sorry if I’m missing my filter—hell, any filter. I hurt.”

“Yeah, you look like you hurt.” I eyed his bruised body.

“Not here.” Tears filled his eyes. “Here.” He tapped his chest and jerked his head toward the bench where his bag was waiting. “I wrote out her eulogy about a hundred different times, but nothing did her justice, nothing made what I felt for her sound like anything except infatuation, lust, and maybe a bit of love sprinkled in. How do you tell the ignorant that your soul is missing from your body? That you may never get that part of yourself back? That half the time, you just wish the pain would end.”

I pulled him into a tight hug, blood, sweat, and all. “You have nothing to prove to anyone at that funeral tomorrow. All you have to do is honor the life she lived by your side, do that, and you’ll be fine.”

He hugged me tighter. “Will you stand with me?”

My chest and throat grew tight. “I’ll stand with you in life and in death. I’ll stand by your side forever, Ash.”

“No matter what?” he repeated.

I pounded my fist onto his back. “No matter what. Even if the world burns around us. You’ve got me.”

Tags: Rachel Van Dyken Mafia Royals Crime
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