Page 86 of Vicious King

I can’t say a word because I’m surrounded by a room of about two hundred people.

I’m going to assassinate the man that’s standing front and center, laughing at something a man to his right just said.

My eyes skim the area as I make my rounds holding a tray filled with champagne flutes. Everyone here is dressed to the nines, all fancy clothes and expensive jewelry, mingling and dancing, supposedly for a cause.

What that cause might be, I have no fucking clue.

Yeah, I’m dressed like a fucking waiter. I can’t wait to off this idiot and go home to my family.

“Guards are moving,” Julian says quietly in my ear.

We discovered that Romano’s men would go through a position change every thirty minutes, and while they’re busy with that, it’s the perfect time for me to make my move.

There was no way I could do this from far away. There would never be an opening for a shot from a nearby rooftop, and with his guards around him, I couldn’t get close enough to stab him.

This is the only way to get this job done tonight.

“He and Gianna are alone,” Julian says in my ear. He’s watching every move that happens in this room through the CCTV system he’s taken over. “Looks like she’s talking in his ear about something, and he’s scowling at her.”

It’s not my job to ask why my client wants someone dead, and usually I don’t give a fuck as long as I get paid.

But this time, I’m curious. Cillian’s never hired me before.

I make my way with the tray to Romano’s side and angle it so he takes the glass I’ve prepared for him. He doesn’t even flick me a second glance when he takes the flute—so fucking predictable—and takes a drink. Gianna grabs another glass that’s clean of poison and sips, her eyes flitting around the room, and I walk away.

“Get out of there,” Julian says in my ear.

But I won’t leave until my mark hits the floor and no longer has a pulse.

I have to see the job through to the end.

I just gave the Camorra head aconitine, an almost undetectable poison that’ll cause him to have heart failure in about fifteen seconds because I gave him enough to kill a fucking elephant.

I didn’t want to wait an hour for this motherfucker to die.

I’m already on the other side of the room, passing out the last of the champagne, when Gianna screams and her father falls to the floor.

The guards race to them, surrounding them, and my eyes find Cillian’s from several yards away. He gives me the tiniest nod, and when I near Gianna wail that her father doesn’t have a pulse, I leave.

“It’s clear,” Julian says. “Everyone’s freaking out about the don, not worried about you. Take the back stairs. There’s a car waiting in the alley.”

I nod but don’t reply, shedding the server uniform as I go. When I get to the alley, I toss the clothes into a dumpster, climb into the back of the black SUV, and pull on the clothes waiting for me.

Leo doesn’t say a word as he drives me to the airfield. I’m not going back to the hotel—I need to get out of the city before anyone knows that I was here. I don’t usually bring any of my men with me on an op like this, but I knew I’d need a driver, and Leo came down without question.

“They just covered him,” Julian says. “Officially declared dead. Now it’s pandemonium. You got out of there in the nick of time.”

“And Gianna?” I ask, speaking for the first time.

“Not a tear in sight. I’m signing out and erasing any trace that I was in there.”

“Good. Thanks, brother.”

We pull up to the waiting aircraft, and I board, then tell the pilot to leave as soon as possible. Once in the air, I take a shower in the back of the plane, removing all the makeup, and dress in my normal clothes.

When I land in Vegas, I see that Cillian called, so I call him back.

“The rest has been wired,” is all he says before he hangs up.