The ride to the penthouse was silent. The rain hammered the roof of the blacked-out Maybach Julian had "acquired" from a Russian associate earlier that morning.
He wasn't staying at the Thorne Manor. That house was a nest of vipers, and he wasn't ready to sleep with one eye open just yet. He was staying at the Obsidian Tower, a brutalist spike of glass and steel overlooking the Thames.
Julian stripped off his wet coat, tossing it onto the Italian leather sofa. Beneath the suit, his body was a roadmap of violence. Scars-knife wounds, bullet grazes, burn marks-marred the tanned skin of his torso. Muscles coiled like steel cables under his shirt.
He poured a glass of whiskey. No ice.
"Sir," a voice came from the shadows of the hallway.
Kai stepped out. Kai was Julian's shadow. A Korean-British hybrid, lean as a whip, wearing a casual hoodie that hid a dozen concealed blades. He wasn't a servant; he was a brother-in-arms forged in the same hell Julian had escaped.
"Did you plant the bugs?" Julian asked, taking a sip. The whiskey burned, a welcome sensation.
"Every room in the Thorne Manor. Even the bathrooms," Kai said, a smirk playing on his lips. "Harrison is currently vomiting in the master suite. Your father is calling his lawyers."
"And Isolde?"
Kai paused. He walked over to the kitchen island, picking up an apple and tossing it in the air. "She went home alone. Harrison tried to go with her, but she put him in a separate car. She's interesting, that one. Her heartbeat didn't elevate when you broke that guard's ribs. It elevated when you kissed her hand."
Julian swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "She's not the girl I left behind, Kai. She's dangerous."
"She's a distraction," Kai warned. "We are here to dismantle the Syndicate that backs your father. We are here to take the legacy. Women are messy."
"Isolde isn't just a woman. She's the key to the Sterling shipping routes. Without her, Harrison is nothing but a trust fund baby with a drug habit."
Julian walked to the window, looking out at the sprawling, glittering city of London. It was a beast that ate the weak.
"Besides," Julian murmured, the memory of Isolde's scent-jasmine and rain-flooding his senses. He recalled the way the silk dress clung to the curve of her hips, the way her breath hitched when he loomed over her. It wasn't just strategy. It was a hunger that had been gnawing at him for five years.
"I intend to make her mine," Julian said, his reflection in the glass looking like a demon. "Harrison stole my life. I'm going to steal his future wife. And I'm going to make her enjoy every second of the betrayal."
Kai chuckled darkly. "You're a bad man, Boss."
"I know."
