Ruthless King

“Baby,” he whispered. “I would never.”

Suddenly, he realized that he was likely intimidating her by standing over her. He sat on his bottom, keeping some space between them.

She had her legs bent and curled up against her chest. Her face was buried in her knees, but he could hear small whimpers coming from her.

“Baby. My sweet girl. It’s me. It’s Regent. Can you look at me, please?”

“He was here,” she said in a scared voice.

“Who was, baby?” Did she mean Gerald? Shit. He should have woken her and told her that he was leaving.

But he’d hoped she would sleep through and wouldn’t realize he had left.

“My father.”

Shock flooded him. “No, baby. He’s dead.”

“He isn’t. He isn’t. He was here. In my room.”

Anger filled him. Sharp and fierce. Fucking Orlando Crane. If he could murder him again, he would.

Of course, no one knew that he was the one to kill Crane. After he’d taken out his own father.

Not even his brothers.

But after he’d heard their plan to marry Lottie to some Colombian drug lord. Yeah, he’d had no choice.

No one threatened his sister.

That was a truth he’d thought he would take to his grave.

“He’s dead, baby. I saw his dead body myself.”

She shook so hard that it was scaring him. Was she having delusions? Had she thought Gerald was Orlando? He supposed that in the dark, Gerald could’ve been mistaken for that bastard.

“He’s not. He’s here! He’s back!”

Fuck.

“Jilly, look at me.”

Nothing.

“Look at me. Right now.” He hated how harsh he sounded, but it was necessary.

Raising her head, she gaped at him.

“He is dead. I saw his dead body.”

She shook her head and he reached out to grab her shoulders.

“He is, Jilly, because I killed him myself!”

She froze in his arms. Fuck. What was she going to think of him now? Would she be scared? Blame him for her father’s death?

“You killed him?”

“Yes. I shot him and my father.”