Page 33 of His Cruel Exception

The others break into cheers and Enzo makes a beeline for the whiskey. He snatches the bottle from the tree stump and twists off the cap while the rest of us gather around him, holding our glasses out as he pours a generous amount into each one.

It's time to celebrate.

Chapter

Seventeen

ANTONIO

After disposing of the bodies, Davide cleans the dried blood on my knuckles before wrapping my hand in gauze and a bandage. We leave the woods and make our way back to the parking lot, where Marco climbs into his car with Carmine and Raffaele, having left their bodyguards behind.

I pull out my phone and dial Alexander's number, bringing it to my ear and listening to the monotonous ringing until the call disconnects without an answer. I stare at the screen for a moment before trying again, my jaw tightening when the little stripper fails to answer a second time. I open the tracking app on my phone and wait for his location to load. When it does, I’m livid.

He's in fucking Trenton.

I check the address to make sure I'm not mistaken, but the marker remains exactly where it is, and I feel the last of my good mood disappear. What the fuck could Alexander possibly be doing in New Jersey when I sent him home only a few hours ago.

“Something happened?” Enzo asks, flicking his lighter and bringing the flame to the cigarette between his lips. He takes a long drag, watching me through the thin trail of smoke curling from his mouth.

“Need to go to Trenton,” I grit out, locking my phone and slipping it into my pocket.

Confusion crosses his face briefly, then his expression clears, and a slow, knowing grin spreads across his face. “This is going to be good. Alexander is in Trenton?”

He doesn't even wait for me to reply before turning to Davide. “Tell Mason to take the car home.” He turns back to me. “The traffic is hellish this time of day, so we’ll cross the bridge and drive through Palisades. You should see your tutor in no time.”

I give him a flat look and unlock my BMW. We climb into the car, and I pull out of The Bloodrot's parking lot, merging onto Henry Hudson Parkway as we make our way toward the George Washington Bridge.

The traffic is fucking miserable, with brake lights stretching ahead of us, but I keep my attention on the road, my fingers tapping against the steering wheel whenever we're forced to slow down. By the time we cross into New Jersey and continue toward Trenton, my patience has worn thinner.

Two hours and eighty-five miles later, I finally pull up in front of a two-story house with fading paint and a white picket fence. The property is modest, with a narrow walkway leading from the gate to the front porch. I check my phone once more to confirm Alexander's location is still showing the same address, then cut the engine and sit back in my seat.

“So, are you going to barge inside and establish your presence as his man?” Enzo teases. “You know you’re behaving like a man in love.”

I turn my head and fix him with a cold stare. “I’m not in love with him,” I snap.

Enzo snickers beside me as I dial Alexander's number, pressing the phone to my ear while keeping my eyes on the front door.

He picks up this time. “Antonio?”

“Where are you?”

I hear him exhale, followed by a faint rustling on his end. “Uhm, I’m at the university. Where else would I be?”

Enzo snorts and I turn to give him a warning glare. He covers his mouth with his palm, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter, while I return my attention to the house, watching the front door with a steadily darkening expression.

Alexander is lying to me.

“I’ll send Davide to come pick you up.”

“No!” Alexander croaks. “I’ll be busy until evening, he can pick me up from the apartment,” he says, and before I can get another word in, he adds, “Got to go. See you later.”

The call disconnects, and a surge of rage makes my vision go white. I am already reaching for the door handle when the front door of the house swings open, and Alexander steps onto the porch with Logan following closely behind him. Before I can push the door open, Enzo reaches across the console and grabs my forearm.

“That’s my prey,” he says, pointing at Logan. “Wait, let’s see what happens.”

I turn to look at him, momentarily distracted from my anger by the unexpected interest in his voice.

“You fucked Logan?”