Vicious Butler

By Celia Crown

"You can cry; I'll just want to hurt you more."

 

When Risette meets Koros, she's in bed with the devil's hallucination haunting her.

 

He embodies a chaotic storm under his inked muscles. He walks with the apparitions of haunting secrets. He stares with a ravenous hunger in his kaleidoscopic obsidian eyes.

 

Then, he smiles. Rather perplexingly distant too.

 

Risette lost everything. She's alone in a world of inexplicable wealth and crushing power at her fingertips, but she's never been so afraid.

 

Koros stepped in with perfection. A man with an irresistible smile to her enchanted heart, a presence of support to the caged freedom of her cowardice, and a velvety timbre voice to her strength.

 

"You need me, m'lady."

 

Somehow, she doesn't believe he's truthful.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celia Crown
• Release date: Apr 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223265795

Book preview

VICIOUS BUTLER

____________________

CELIA CROWN

Copyright © 2020 by Celia Crown.

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction.

The book or any portion of the book may not be reproduced or used under any circumstances, except with the written permission from the author. Public names, movies, televisions, locations, or any references are used for atmospheric purposes. Any similarities and resemblances to alive or dead people, events, brands, and locales are all complete coincidences.

Contents

Vicious Butler

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

Afterword

More Books

Vicious Butler

By Celia Crown

You can cry; I’ll just want to hurt you more.

When Risette meets Koros, she’s in bed with the devil’s hallucination haunting her.

He embodies a chaotic storm under his inked muscles. He walks with the apparitions of haunting secrets. He stares with a ravenous hunger in his kaleidoscopic obsidian eyes.

Then, he smiles. Rather perplexingly distant too.

Risette lost everything. She’s alone in a world of inexplicable wealth and crushing power at her fingertips, but she’s never been so afraid.

Koros stepped in with perfection. A man with an irresistible smile to her enchanted heart, a presence of support to the caged freedom of her cowardice, and a velvety timbre voice to her strength.

You need me, m’lady.

Somehow, she doesn’t believe he’s truthful.

Chapter One

___________

Koros

Name?

The bloodied man is trembling in fear. Speaking slowly in a wavering voice, he stammers out the words.

Tobias, the man rasps.

His bruised face matches the picture I am using for comparison. His face is twice its usual size, his bruised left eye is swollen shut, and one side of his face is scraped from dragging him into the abandoned meatpacking factory.

Tell me about yourself, I say as I set his picture next to the will.

Tobias sobs revoltingly. Snot drips down his chin as he coughs, and specks of blood splatter the concrete floor.

I— Tobias heaves, petrified as he glances at the gun on the table. I’m Tobias, fifty-six years old, and I have worked for the Irvine family my whole life. If you want money, they can—

Cut to the part I’m interested in, I inject impatiently. Tell me about the family.

Tobias hesitates, but nods in defeat. His life is in my hands; I can end it with a simple pull on the trigger if he doesn’t do as I say. I already told him as much, and I prefer he not waste my time with useless begging for his life.

There is only one way for this to end. He has seen my face, so it would be foolish to let him go. It would come back to bite me in the ass eventually, so I best save myself the trouble.

Mr. Irvine’s wife passed away many years ago. But he has a son and one granddaughter. Mr. Irvine and his son have a tense relationship; they haven’t spoken to each other for five years.

As Tobias goes into detail about the relationship between Mr. Irvine and his son, I pick up a different picture and a copy of the will.

It was national news when Irvine’s death was announced, but it was the will that made the headlines.

Everything went to the granddaughter; his multi-billion-dollar company, the mansion, the assets, and Irvine’s multi-million-dollar life insurance policy.

All of it goes to his twenty-year-old granddaughter.

Of course, the family members are contesting the will since they will receive just one thousand dollars each. The aunt and the uncle have fewer grounds for contesting the will than the son does since it’s his daughter who gets it all.

Risette is smiling in the picture I am holding; she looks happy and content.

When I first saw her picture, my glacial heart had jumped into a heated frenzy.

It was strange and very concerning to me. Just looking at it had altered my body’s rhythm with no apparent explanation.

She was just a nameless girl to me then, but my heart thought otherwise.

Risette is a dangerous problem for me.

What’s Risette like? I interrupt the blubbering man again.

I had gathered enough information to know the whole family dynamic is a massive storm of nonsense and greed. Everyone’s fighting for the inheritance and messing with the girl’s emotions to get her on their side.

Miss Risette? he echoes warily.

I have not seen her in person yet, but I have researched that pretty little girl.

She’s the only grandchild, and it’s evident that Irvine had dedicated himself to spoiling her. He paid for a private all-girls school, sent her to a prestigious university, and subsidized endless hobbies that may not result in useful life skills.

I’ve seen videos of her meeting with influential public figures. I had assumed she was the epitome of a spoiled rich girl, but that wasn’t the case.

Risette’s awkward, to say the least. Uncomfortable, quiet, and graceless. Whereas her grandfather was a sociable man, pursuing an agenda in every conversation.

She’s quiet and kind, Tobias says uselessly.

He’s been with the family for years, but all he can come up with is simple compliments about Risette.

I just wasted five minutes of my time that I will never get back.

I sigh quietly and set the will back down next to my Risette’s picture. The man pleads for his life with a sick wife to care for, and children who can’t cover the medical bills that Irvine used to pay on her behalf.

I have never been an empathetic man. His words do not affect me, nor do they tug on my nonexistent heartstrings.

At this point, his rambling has just become annoying.

I don’t need him anymore; this was a wasted effort to learn more about the family.

Picking up the loaded gun, I shoot him between the eyes in one beat of the heart. He topples to the side, blood pouring from the wound and trickling down the drain as the echo ricochets.

I grab him by the ankle and drag his body across the cluttered room. The blood streaks taper to nothing as I turn the corner into another room.

With a flick of my wrist, his body lands on a manhole cover. The lid clatters noisily as the body ends up lodged over the open hole.

The man is still giving me trouble even when he is dead. I should’ve gotten rid of him sooner, but I hoped to get more information on Risette.

I thought wrong.

Holding my boot over his stomach, I come down with enough force to break his spine and shove him into the hole. His folded body collapses, and the next stomp of my boot sends it down into the disgusting sewer line.

I nudge the lid back over the sewer entrance and return to the other room.

I should have taken a different route, but time is of the essence. The bacteria in the sewage will alter the evidence and make it difficult for the forensic team to connect his death to me.

Regarding the change of clothes on the table, I consider the time involved. I have other matters to take care of before leaving this moldy place, but this shouldn’t take long.

I pull my shirt over my head and toss it on the table. My pants and shoes fall onto the same pile.

The new white dress shirt I pull over my shoulders is tight and restrictive. It is hard to find decent clothes in my size when my job requires them.

The most irritating thing is getting a tailored suit when the occasion arises, which is more often than I’d like to admit.

Slipping on the crisp black jacket, I stifle an annoyed growl. Rolling my shoulders, the material stretches and settles naturally. The trousers are so tight they are nearly bursting