Free The Gypsy King by Morgan Rush Page A

toward her home. She knew she had made a terrible mistake and
    couldn’t wait to sit down with Veronique and explain what she had done, before it was too late.

    * * * *
79

    The Gypsy King
    It took almost twenty minutes before Leone
    realized he had been outsmarted. When he finally realized she was taking quite a long time in the washroom, the empty room echoed with his howls as he frantically rushed throughout the first floor of his home, opening and slamming each and
    every door until his ears were buzzing and
    popping from the noise.
    “Fucking tramp! You fucking little twit...make me look like an idiot!” His search ended where it began, sitting at the huge plank wood table, alone.
    A rage he was familiar with continued to build until it simply overwhelmed him and he made no attempt to stop it or even control it anymore.
    Gripping both wine bottles by the neck like pistols, he launched them simultaneously against the far wall and laughed as they exploded into an abortion of blood red froth and glass.
    His anger felt good. It invigorated him and, as he screamed, he frantically searched for something else, anything else that he could destroy. The candles made an unsatisfying thump against the same wall and a random plate, two wine glasses and a copper serving tray all added to a
    cacophony of sound that he found more enjoyable the louder and more brash it became.
    Emelie was long gone by the time Leone placed both of his hands on the table and hung his head in exhaustion. Sweat trickled from his jet-black hair and his breath sounded like that of a wild 80

    Morgan Rush
    boar, injured from the hunt, but still alive and extremely dangerous. With a guttural howl that shook the glimmering stones in the family
    chandelier high above his head, Leone reached upward from his own place in hell and brought both of his fists down like hammers onto the center of the wood. With a force that surprised even him, the table split violently in two and each shattered plank sunk to the floor just as a sinking ship drowns in the dark sea.
    81

    The Gypsy King

Chapter Seven
    eone stood in the dining room with both hands Llying limply at his side and the remains of his family table popping and sizzling in the fireplace.
    He was deep in thought now, his physical rage was slowly subsiding to nothing more than a dull pounding in the back of his skull. He
    unknowingly matched its tempo with a steady tapping of a boot heel on the wooden floor.
    He enjoyed feeling the ebb and flow of his
    anger, liked to feel it simmer and bubble up like the boiling mixtures in the cauldrons that dyed blood red the sanguinary sails in that hellhole, Corsica. Much like the anger he felt after being beaten, trampled and humiliated by the older men who saw his apprenticeship as an intrusion and a threat to their way of life, he grew stronger with every harsh breath and cleared his brain.
    He thought about his brother and part of him 82

    Morgan Rush
    was shaking he was so angry. Another part of him admired Ahndray for what he had accomplished.
    He wondered how Ahndray had seduced
    Veronique, a shrewd girl whose only flaw was she allowed her heart to get in the way of her head. He thought about how Ahndray had never attempted to help the family out by being involved in the business in any capacity and it made him furious enough to spit onto the floor in disgust.
    He traveled to the coast for his own apprenticeship and lasted only three days! Three days! Instead of learning their profession, he asked to go to India to study elephants and colored batiks! His little baby brother didn’t understand about duty, about hard work and
    obviously nothing about loyalty. He saw a vision of his father in his mind’s eye and knew what he needed to do to reconcile this tragic development.
    He would make his father proud. Yes, he knew exactly what he needed to do.
    “And who wants a whore in the family
    anyway?” He thought about Veronique and
    everything he was willing to give