Rocco believed that I personally orchestrated the attack that almost ruined his business. He believed that I did it out of jealousy and envy.
How ridiculous!
Ever since, he’d been out to get me, determined to reclaim what he believed I owed him.
Now, knowing our history, I didn’t expect any of my men to get involved with him. Directly or indirectly.
Without hesitation, I pulled out my pistol and aimed at him. However, before I could squeeze the trigger, that unmistakable voice stopped me.
“No, don’t!”
I turned toward the door, and there she was, my little prisoner. She stood coldly by the entrance with her hand extended in front of her. The fear in her eyes was as real as the gun in my hand.
Konstantin’s face twisted into a frown, but he didn’t make any move. He just glared at her.
I hated distractions while working, especially on important things like this. Yet, there she was, interrupting my work.
How dare she?
What gave her the effrontery to walk down here and interfere?
“Get out of here,” I growled, my eyes blazing with fury.
“I will once you put the gun down,” she said, taking cautious steps forward.
“Celine, don’t make me repeat myself,” I warned her, my voice deep and venomous.
“You don’t have to kill him,” she stated, her tone gentle and strangely soothing. “You heard what he said; he was acting under duress—the man was going to kill his family. He didn’t have a choice.”
I glared at the traitor whose breath was hitched, heart hammering in his chest. He was staring death right in the face, his life flashing before his very eyes.
One squeeze. That’s all it would take to send him to hell, to plaster the wall behind him with his brains.
I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening around the cold steel. A part of me wanted to end his miserable life, but the other part wanted to listen to Celine’s pleas. Honestly, I hated how much effect she was starting to have on me—especially in front of my men.
Without a word, I lowered my gun, marched toward her, and grabbed her by the wrist. She winced in pain, but I ignored it as I dragged her out of the room with me.
We climbed up the stairs and stormed through the halls, footsteps pounding against the floor.
“Aww! You’re hurting me,” she grumbled, struggling to squirm out of my hold.
I didn’t respond. Didn’t let go either.
The library door was the closest to us, so I pushed it open and forced her inside. Then and only then did I free her from my firm grip.
She stumbled forward but didn’t fall, and when she straightened up, she looked at me with a mix of fear and defiance. She rolled her wrist in a massage-like motion as if trying to ease the pain.
“Don’t you ever…” I stepped closer, my face twisted in anger, with a finger pointing at her, “…everdo that again. Do you hear me?”
“Do what?” she shot back, her voice low and shaky. “Stop you from killing a man unjustly?”
Her spunk. I loved it and hated it at the same time.
“You have no idea what’s going on here,” I said.
“Maybe I don’t,” she answered, looking up at me. “But I do know this. That man was only trying to save his family—something you’ll never understand because you’re a cold-blooded monster who doesn’t know what it’s like to love someone so much that you’re willing to do anything to save them.” The words rushed out of her in a quiet yet frantic burst.
I didn’t expect to be triggered by that, but I was. It made me so mad that I reached out and grabbed her by the waist.