Dark Revenge The Sequel to Dark Obsession. A King of New York Book

Valentina – Present Day

“Take the shot, Vali. Take the fucking shot.” Hans says low yet firmly through my earpiece.

I am born to kill.

I am born to follow orders.

I have no default.

This is who I am.

Powerful.

Fearless.

And most of all, I am here to take revenge for the bastard responsible for shooting my father. The words come back to me the day my bodyguard, Griffin, told me when I was at the summer place with my best friend, Francesca. And I vowed then, aged 20, seven long years ago.

Whoever shot my father is going to see the full throttle of my fucking revenge. I will find them, stalk them and fuck them up so badly they’d wish they never touched my daddy!

Today is that day. So, why am I lying on the pile of sandbags on a rooftop terrace of some shithole, stuck in the back end of a rough part of Croatia, with a gun right on my target and not taking the fucking shot? The June sun is beating ferociously down on me. Sweat glides between my shoulder blades and my breasts. Thank God, I am wearing my standard black bandana with red skulls on it to keep sweat from running down my face and obscuring my eyesight.

I have my eye fixed on the scope of my weapon, neatly tucked into my shoulder. This is the day I take out the son of the Russian Mafia legend, Vikram Silov. Yet, I hesitate; my finger is on the trigger.

“Vali, take the shot. He’s going to move, and you will lose your opportunity. This is what you have wanted for the last seven years. You want to fire now.” There is an edge to Hans’ voice. I can sense his nervousness and anxiety through my earpiece.

I’ve been watching Maksim Silov for the past year. Carefully being in every place he frequents. From his local, favorite coffee house in Moscow, to outside his penthouse in New York City. I’ve been close to him without him knowing at galas in Paris and in Monaco. He never sees me; I am the ghost in the shadows.

The sun shines on his dark-blonde hair; I can see the natural highlights through my powerful scope as he stands outside a bar, checking his mobile. His powerful body, even I have to admit, is something to admire. Broad shoulders, tapering neatly with the perfect ratio to his hips. Thick thighs clad in black denim. Shoes that I know cost more than most people’s rent. A gold Rolex on his wrist. I pick up the stubble on his chin, and then his eyes.

I do not have time to think of him as a man. God knows I love men; I love how they are at my beck and call. I love the power I exert over them. But this man, he is off limits.

Those moss-green eyes as his head glances up from his mobile and looks straight in my direction. My heart skips a beat. Those eyes, the intensity, they knock me off guard. I am Valentina Santangelo, a cold-blooded assassin, calculating, not a woman who gets knocked off her guard. It is as if he knows I am here.

Even I know he cannot possibly see my weapon peeking over the ledge of the rooftop. Nobody’s natural eyesight is that good. Yet, he keeps on looking; his eyes are fixed directly on mine.

Without hesitation, I bring the weapon back and roll to my back. The sun is scorching my face and burning my retinas. “Fuck,” I shout. “Fuck.”

I hear Hans let out a low breath. “Get the hell out of there, Vali.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I pack my weapon up like the expert that I am and place it in the casing that I can easily sling over my shoulder. I let out a low whistle for Zeus, my four-year-old Malinois dog, to come to me.

“We’re out of here, buddy. Let’s go.” He has been with me since a pup. Trained by the best, instinct better than any human on earth. He turns to lead the way. His head high and proud, knowing he has to protect me.

Who knows if Maksim knows I am up here. It isn’t beyond the realms of possibility that he knows I’ve been following him. Unlikely, I think to myself. I am the best. It’s the reason I can charge a high price for my services.

If my father knew, he’d chain me in his basement.

Nico, the father I adore. The father who took a bullet so close to his heart, he was in surgery for over seven hours. They lost him for a few seconds on the table. He pulled through. The man is made of steel. Nothing breaks Nico Santangelo. My mother, Lucky, has him wrapped around her finger. But this, me, an assassin, moonlighting as the accountant in his business. That would kill him.

He has tried to protect me from his world, the world that almost cost him his life.

However, I made a vow that day when I was twenty that I would get whoever was responsible for putting the bullet in his chest. And I intend to keep it.

Hitting Maksim’s father with the loss of his son, that is the ultimate goal.