Chapter 11 - The Weight of the Crown
The diamond felt incredibly heavy on Clara’s finger, a cold and brilliant reminder of the blood spilled to put it there.
She stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, watching the city below wake up to a new regime.
It was a sprawling metropolis of glass and steel, and according to the laws of the underworld, it all belonged to the man currently sleeping in her bed.
Arthur shifted beneath the dark silk sheets, his lethal instincts waking him the moment her warmth left his side.
He sat up, the morning light catching the fresh, jagged scars that painted his muscular chest.
Clara did not turn around immediately, choosing instead to feel the heavy weight of his gaze scanning her silhouette.
He walked up behind her, wrapping his massive arms around her waist and burying his face in the crook of her neck.
His lips brushed against her skin, sending a familiar, electric shiver down her spine.
“You are thinking too loudly,” Arthur murmured, his voice thick with sleep and rough gravel.
Clara leaned back into his solid frame, resting her hands over his.
“I am thinking about the power vacuum we just created by wiping out the Falcone syndicate.”
Arthur chuckled softly, a dark and rumbling sound that vibrated against her back.
“They were parasites, Clara, and their remaining territories are already firmly under our control.”
She turned to face him, her eyes searching his hardened features for any sign of hesitation.
“Nature abhors a vacuum, Arthur, and the underworld abhors peace even more.”
He reached up, gently tracing the line of her jaw with a thumb that had ended lives just twenty-four hours ago.
“Let them come,” he stated with terrifying arrogance.
“I have my queen, and I have my city.”
But Clara’s pragmatic mind was already racing ahead, analyzing the shadows for the next inevitable threat.
She knew that marrying the devil meant she would eventually have to face his demons.
The captains of the Moretti family were scheduled to arrive at the estate in three hours to pledge their formal loyalty to her.
She walked away from the window and headed toward the massive walk-in closet.
She bypassed the soft, pastel dresses she used to wear, reaching instead for a sharp, tailored black suit.
If she was going to stand beside the most dangerous man on the East Coast, she was going to look like she belonged there.
May you like
Arthur leaned against the doorframe, watching her dress with a look of pure, primal obsession.
He realized in that moment that she was no longer just surviving his world; she was preparing to conquer it.
