Page 80 of Vicious King

I narrow my eyes at her.

“I was declared dead,” she reminds me. “I go by a different name. Are we really married?”

I pull my hand down my face and blow out a breath. “I’ll make some calls. But make no mistake, you’re mine. My wife, my woman, my person, my best friend. You’re everything.”

She smiles softly. “Same. Now, tell me about business.”

“I have this resort, obviously. I clean a fuck ton of money through it. I also print money.”

“Counterfeit?” she asks.

“That’s right. I own a shit ton of real estate. I can find the deeds if you’d like to see them all.”

“I’m good,” she says calmly.

“You’re perfect,” I counter, and her cheeks darken so damn beautifully, I want to fuck her here on my desk.

Before I can tell her more, my phone rings, and I see that it’s Cillian O’Connor, the head of the Irish mob.

“Cillian,” I say as I answer and put the phone on speaker, then set it on the desk.

“Carson,” he returns. “I need to hire you.”

Rina’s eyes jump to mine and her brows pull together in confusion.

“I’ll be in New Orleans in six hours.”

“You haven’t heard what I need.”

“I don’t discuss this kind of business over the phone. Have dinner waiting for me.”

“You’re a fucking prick.”

“Guilty.”

I hang up and watch my girl quietly for a moment.

“Who is Cillian?” she asks calmly.

“He’s the head of the Irish mob. An ally of ours. He owns the Four Leaf resort down the Strip but lives full time in New Orleans.”

She nods.

“What is he hiring you for, Carson?”

“Likely to kill someone.”

Her eyes narrow, and I stand to pace because shit. I know that I have to come clean and tell her what the bulk of my business is. She deserves to know, but if she leaves me now, I don’t know what I’ll do.

I’m capable of anything.

“That’s the other part of my business.”

Rina stands and circles the desk, leans her hips back on it, and crosses her arms as she listens to me. She’s not scowling. She doesn’t look afraid.

Thank fuck she doesn’t look afraid.

“After you died, I was so fucking angry. It’s the only emotion I was truly capable of. It served me well in prison, and then when I got out a couple of years ago and I came back to my life, the fury roared. Because you still weren’t here.”