King's Queen

by Marie Johnston

  “Are you kidding? It’s Broadway.” My smile was wide, but sheer grit kept me from wincing. These shoes. It was the third time I’d worn them. After our third date at a restaurant where I was the only woman not in stilettos, he’d asked me out again and I’d gone shopping. Dating Aiden meant a new wardrobe that included fewer cardigans and more A-line skirts and heels. Anything to suggest I had an ounce of flair in my body. “It’s amazing.”

  He stopped and faced me, searching my gaze like he sensed the blisters I wasn’t mentioning. Were expensive heels more comfortable or were my feet just heel intolerant?

  People swarmed around us. Fluorescent lights of all different colors scattered over his hair, managing not to get absorbed by his dark glossy strands.

  He took both my hands in his. “Kate, I’ve really enjoyed being with you.”

  I waited for someone to jump out and tell me it was a lie. That was the feeling I’d had for the last two months. Aiden’s name popping up on my phone. Aiden picking me up from work or my apartment. Aiden taking me to his magnificent house, a place that would be my dream home if it were possible on a librarian’s salary.

  He squeezed my hands. Was I supposed to respond? I echoed him. “I’ve enjoyed being with you.” Understatement of the century.

  Relief passed through his gaze as if he’d been worried the plain librarian who’d grown up in the trailer park would turn down the hot, rich oil exec who’d grown up ranching, making him impossibly more attractive. “It might be too soon, but I love you, Kate.”

  My small gasp was lost in the noise of the city. “Aiden.” He loved me? Me?

  Did I love him?

  I’d been infatuated with him for half my life. Most of it had been a schoolgirl crush, even as I’d stepped foot into the King Oil headquarters the night of the tour. What would I call it now?

  I thought of him all day, every day. I lived for the moment I’d see him again. He was considerate, had good values, and loved his family. I hadn’t met his brothers, and I’d only seen his dad during the tour, but Aiden talked about them. His love and dedication to them were obvious in the warmth of his voice and the way his usually intense stare would relax. He showed me glimpses of humor, love, and respect.

  Who was I kidding? I’d been in love with him since he’d asked me out. Since he’d picked me out of the crowd of my coworkers and remembered me a decade after the last time he’d seen me.

  “I love you too. You’re everything I ever wanted. I grew up hearing how awful it was for Mom, with my dad and how he’d lied—” Aiden’s expression flickered and a small furrow bisected his brows. Oh, crap. I was rambling and talking about my parents’ failed marriage as soon as I admitted that I loved him. Way to pull the plug on the romance, Katie. “I’m sorry. The only thing that has to do with us is that I know what I want out of a relationship, and it’s you.”

  Tension drained out of his body and a smile spread across his face. I was grateful he had ahold of my hands. A full smile on his handsome, chiseled face was devastating. It was brighter than the three-story screen above us.

  “I know what I want out of a relationship too, Kate. And it’s you.”

  The movies didn’t show princesses swooning. To be fair, Snow White had been lying down. I had a second to collect myself before he reached into the breast pocket inside his suit jacket.

  “Believe me when I say I’ve never been in love before, Kate. And I don’t want to wait to start my life with you.” He withdrew a ring with an obnoxiously large diamond. Light sparkled from its many facets as he kneeled in front of me. “Will you marry me, Kate McDonough?”

  My hand flew to my mouth. Tears peppered the backs of my eyes.

  This was a dream. A fantasy.

  I’d been that girl. I’d written Kate King across my notebooks when I was supposed to be studying for a civics test. I’d hugged my pillow at night and wondered what it would be like to feel his strong arms around me. And when I’d lost my virginity in college, I’d inappropriately thought of Aiden. If my first time had been with him, would it have been as lackluster, or purely spectacular?

  I was dimly aware that some people had stopped to wait for my answer. A handsome prince in his impeccable black suit down on one knee in front of me in my clearance dress and unforgiving heels.

  It was like a scene out of a romance novel. I tried to summon the name of a specific book, but I couldn’t. Any with a handsome man kneeling at the damsel’s feet would do. Those damsel’s heels probably weren’t sporting three new blisters. And I wasn’t Snow White, nor was I in a forest. An NYC pigeon would crap on me before it cleaned my house.

  My answer was the same no matter what. “Oh, Aiden. Yes.” My hand shook as I held it out.

  He slid the ring on. The fit was perfect. How had he done that?

  The weight of the cool stone on my finger was unusual. God, this thing was huge. I didn’t know much about diamonds other than I couldn’t afford them, but this ring was what an oil exec’s wife would wear.

  I was going to be that wife. I was going to wear this gigantic ring and live in a big house, but none of that mattered. The man of my dreams had asked me to marry him. And he was everything I’d hoped he’d be and more.

  If the last two months were anything to go by, then I couldn’t wait for our life together.

  Chapter 2

  Aiden

  * * *

  Present day…

  * * *

  I hooked a finger around my tie, wishing for the ten thousandth time I could loosen it. Tension rippled across my shoulders, tightening muscles that screamed to break out of this constraining white button-up shirt.

  But in a small community where everybody felt free to drop in, I couldn’t risk a haphazard appearance. As the chief financial officer of King Oil, I wasn’t the face of the company, but I was the backbone. I had to look like I could run a billion-dollar organization.

  Even if it came with a suit and shoes that I’d rather trade in for blue jeans and cowboy boots.

  Another notification pinged. An email. I had a quick bell sound for my IM. A chime for the group chat program employees used. And a visual alert that streamed across my computer screen when an app on my phone had a notification.

  Another ping. And another.

  Most days, I could ignore them and answer when I had a spare minute. I excelled at prioritizing. Some days, like today, I fantasized about closing all my accounts until my electronics were blissfully quiet. But then those people would come hunting for me and I’d rather keep people out of my office so I could get shit done.

  Thanks, Grams. As the board president of King Oil, Grams got what Grams wanted, and she was every inch the micromanager, from her brilliantly bleached teeth to her thousand-dollar alligator-skin boots. She expected Dad and me to run the company the same way. The inner office, as we called it, had one assistant who didn’t have time for more than fielding phone calls and scheduling meetings. There was Kendall, but she was Dad’s executive assistant. She took the burden off him more than me. She could do half my job with her eyes closed, but I wouldn’t wish this schedule on my worst enemy, much less my dad’s second wife, the woman who’d turned him back into the dad I’d grown up with. The dad before Mama died.

  Another ping.

  There was a knock at the door. Phillip opened it and popped his head in. “Kate’s here to see you.”

  Kate could walk in whenever she wanted, but she wouldn’t. My wife was too respectful of my job. She was a damn saint for putting up with my hours.

  “Let her in.” I leaned back in my chair, easing the pressure between my shoulder blades. Anticipation crawled in my gut. I put my elbow on the armrest and leaned my chin on my hand.

  Kate slipped in, giving Phillip a flash of a smile. Phillip closed the door behind her. My tension vanished at the sight of her, and the way her hips swayed made me want to say fuck this job and carry her out.

  She wore simple black trousers and a loose-fitting knitted sweater. The deep blu
e enhanced the amber color in her hazel eyes. Her light brown hair brushed her shoulders and I restrained myself from yanking her over the desk and onto my lap to bury my hands in the soft strands of her hair. To capture that gasp that left her every time I kissed her full lips.

  I changed position before I could tent my trousers like an unprofessional jackass. I could have all the fantasies I wanted of spreading my wife over my desk and losing myself in her soft body, but I’d never indulge. This job was too important. Too many people counted on me.

  She took a seat, sitting like a timid mouse. I was watching her like a hawk, but I couldn’t help it. I always left in the morning when she was still asleep, and many times she was already asleep by the time I got home.

  Her brows knitted together. Worry pinched her eyes. I’d been too busy checking her out to notice something was bothering her.

  I sat straighter. “Everything okay?”

  She held a manila envelope in her hands. She spread one hand over it and the emotion in her eyes thickened. Worry? Fear? Sorrow?

  “We need to talk.”

  “All right.” I checked the time. “I have a meeting in ten minutes.” I could push it back. Kate hardly asked me for anything, so yeah, I’d be late.

  Annoyance crossed her face, but she covered it, evening out her expression. I leaned my elbows on my desk. Something was wrong.

  She glanced at the envelope in her hand, a deep emotion I couldn’t identify buried in her eyes. I knew my wife, but this was foreign territory. I couldn’t read her expression, I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. I didn’t like this twist.

  She let out a steady breath and met my gaze. “What’s with the trust?”

  Ice washed through my veins. Shit.

  The trust. Full of stipulations I should’ve told her about but…hadn’t. And my brothers sensed I hadn’t, so they hadn’t said a thing either. Nor had their spouses. Years had gone by and Kate hadn’t found out about the trust and I’d continued to gamble on not telling her.

  Kate was smart. I respected her too much to bullshit her. Ironic, since I should have showed her the utmost respect by telling her about the trust before I proposed.

  I was a man who dealt in numbers, who waded in reality, who made the tough decisions others wouldn’t. Kate finding out had been inevitable, yet I’d tempted fate and now fate was flipping me off.

  “Mama set it up.” Tightness crept across my shoulders, bunching muscles that would take days to relax. “She, uh, she made some rules in order for us to get it.”

  “Like marrying before you turned thirty?” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper but it echoed between us.

  “Yes.” Words clawed their way into my throat. I was the oldest; I couldn’t fail. It all depended on me. How could I tell you that I had a hundred million reasons to propose when I did? And that I’d done it after you’d told me how I didn’t lie to you like your dad lied to your mom? I stuffed them down like I always did. I’d hurt Kate enough with what I hadn’t said.

  “And what else?”

  “We had to stay married a year.” I swallowed hard. Speaking the rules out loud, to my wife, left a sour taint on my tongue. “Though we’ve been married for four,” I pointed out. Lame.

  Hurt resonated in her expression. “And if you hadn’t married, you’d have lost it?”

  “To the Cartwrights, yes.” The neighbors my family had feuded with for generations. Until Bristol Cartwright had married my youngest brother, Dawson, a month ago.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It didn’t matter.” I uttered those words with the same finality I did in the boardroom, but they sounded off to my ears.

  She tilted her head and those intelligent eyes pinned me in place. Eyes that had seen through my salary and my lifestyle. Eyes that had always seen down to the real me. “You don’t think that marrying me before you lost a ton of money mattered?”

  “We’ve been married for four years.” As if repeating it would make it all better. The trust had stipulated a year, but I’d held on to Kate for longer.

  She huffed out a gust of air that might have been a laugh. “Four years. I hardly see you and we live in the same house.”

  Another ping. Another email. I tried to ignore the way the notifications intruded on my time with my wife. “My hours—”

  “And we’re millionaires? You mentioned a trust once, acted as if it were insignificant.” She shook her head and pressed the back of her hand against her mouth.

  “It is insignificant. It doesn’t matter.” The trust had seemed to matter so much when I’d first learned about it. Now, it was nothing. My brothers were happily married and for all the right reasons.

  A chime. Goddamn messages.

  “You keep saying that,” she snapped and I blinked. Kate was the most even-keeled woman I’d met. The lack of drama around her made her my oasis, one I hardly saw in my vast desert of work. “But it does matter. It matters because hearing it from someone who’s not even a part of the family sucks. It sucks a lot.” Pain brimmed in her eyes. “And everyone knows?”

  Thanks to my job, I could always answer hard questions. “Yes.”

  She let out a sob and sucked it back in, her back ramrod straight. “I’m so stupid.”

  “Kate, you’re not—”

  “You married me right before—” She squeezed her eyes shut and sniffled. I know what she’d meant to say. We’d married right before I turned twenty-nine. I’d learned about the trust, asked her out two months later, proposed two months after that, and we’d married shortly after. Before I’d turned twenty-nine.

  She rose and thrust the folder at me.

  I scowled at it. I wouldn’t like what was in that thing. Not one bit.

  She dropped it. “I filed for divorce.” A tear spilled out of each eye. “Um, in Montana, we can file through the mail. We just have to notarize everything.” Her voice wavered but she took a steadying breath while my world caved in around my ears. “Since I signed a prenup, it should be pretty straightforward. I have what I earned. You have everything else. The house is yours of course. I make a decent wage at the library, and I have a retirement plan, so no need to worry that I’m going to fight you for anything.”

  “You get half,” I mumbled. Why did I say that? I didn’t want her to go, but I’d kept the specifics from her long enough. She needed to know everything. Another ping. My email could go fuck itself. “Of the trust. We’ve been married over a year. You get half. Fifty million.”

  The amount meant nothing to me. The trust meant nothing. The urge to tell her that nearly choked me, but then I’d have to explain why. She might be angry with me, but I couldn’t have her leave me because I was pathetic.

  “Fifty mil—” She blinked and another tear snaked down her cheek. “Good thing we’ve been married for four years, then.”

  Her bitter sarcasm stoked my desperation. Divorce? No. It wasn’t possible. “Kate—”

  “Goodbye, Aiden.”

  Panic clawed in my gut. “Aren’t we going to talk about this?”

  “If you wanted to talk about this, you would’ve by now.” She turned away from me.

  I’d had so much time to tell Kate everything. But I hadn’t. Talking had gotten me nowhere and there had always been a reason not to. Wrong time. Work. My brothers. Now…four years, gone. Just like that.

  I stood. She had no idea how many times I’d wanted to tell her. To bury myself in her arms and spill everything. I needed more time. “Kate.”

  My wife walked out the door and out of my life, softly closing the door behind her.

  No. This wasn’t my life. I planned. I researched. I deliberated. I went home to Kate. But she dropped divorce papers on my desk and vanished?

  “Kate!” I hadn’t raised my voice in so long, it cracked at the end. There was no reply as the world imploded so quietly inside the office that had become my prison.

  I could go after her, but Kate would hate being the center of drama like that. My feet
stayed rooted to the floor. “Kate!”

  Another ping, followed by a ding.

  A roar ripped out of me, scorching my throat as it banged off the walls. I yanked my screen off the desk and heaved it across the room. It hit the wall, but I couldn’t tell if the clatter was coming from the plastic bits that went flying or my heart.

  Kate

  * * *

  Stale cigarette smoke surrounded me. Mom had quit smoking in the trailer house ten years ago, but smoking in the attached one-car garage when it was chilly out didn’t offer a lot of ventilation. The smell matriculated into the house. I found it oddly comforting. An old scent that reminded me of home and simpler times.

  Mom patted my back as I sobbed in a heap on the floral sofa that was older than I was. They don’t make ’em like that anymore, her rough voice said each time I offered to buy her a new living-room set. I could still afford to buy her a living-room set. Even without the trust.

  Fifty million.

  I inhaled a shuddering breath and let another sobbing moan echo off the walls.

  “Aw, hell, Katie.” Mom didn’t have a nurturing bone in her body, but she rubbed my back. If I couldn’t go back to my home, this was the only place I wanted to be.

  My family was the definition of trailer trash, but they told the truth, no matter how crude and decorated with swear words it was. A few “ain’ts” never hurt anyone.

  At least my empty marriage with Aiden had shown me how much I missed the loud, crass love my parents and brothers showed each other.

  “I don’t understand why you have to divorce him,” Mom said.

  “Mom!” I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and sat up. “He lied.”

  She flopped one purple sweats–clad leg over the other. “It’s a lot of money.”

  I sniffled and grabbed a tissue. “He treats me like crap,” I mumbled as I wiped my nose.

  She narrowed her eyes and leaned toward me. “What?”