by Mason, V. F.
My dark hair cascades down my back in heavy curls, glistening in the light with its rich color, bringing attention to my eyes that are exceptionally vivid against my pale skin along with the eye shadow emphasizing them with every blink of my eyelashes.
My high cheek bones add to the coldness yet sophistication of my features as the silky, strapless dress falls down to my shoes with my leg peeking out the slit on the side trailing up to midthigh. It wraps so tightly around my body, showcasing every curve yet pushing my breasts up high.
The composition is finished with silver high-heel sandals that hold my feet tightly and add extra inches to my figure, making me seem more slender.
In short, it will be easy for everyone to think Zachary fell for me, even if his idea is ridiculous and only fools will believe in this love story.
As if on command, the minute the handsome man’s name flashes in my mind, I hear the door open and I close my eyes, the anticipation rushing in my veins of wanting to see his reaction to my new look, like a princess waiting to finally meet the prince.
Except our story reminds me nothing of Cinderella, or any other fairy tale.
God, what is this insanity, and obsession, that makes itself known whenever we are in each other’s presence?
Maybe it’s one of the variations of Stockholm Syndrome? Granted, Zachary is not my captor, but he is the man who ruined my life, yet in this new reality, the darkness I’m living in, he is the only one I can rely on.
Not because I choose to trust him, but because he pushed himself into my space, demanding that trust compared to Sebastian, who just gave up the minute I showed him the door.
This psychological term does explain a lot of factors I could apply to whatever we have right now. But is it the right way to handle it? Shoving the responsibility onto someone else’s shoulders, instead of owning up to my choices and the consequences they might have?
Desire is a weakness wrapped in all-consuming emotion with the power to rule your every single thought. And although you know you will burst into flames if you’re not careful enough, nothing in this world can stop you when it calls your name, demanding surrender and acceptance.
I feel a hot breath on my nape, the masculine scent twitching my nostrils. Heat surrounds me from every corner. My pulse speeds up, alert to the presence of the man who consumes my every thought and stirs nothing but internal conflict within me.
Because now the only thing swirling in my mind is the fact that I’ve managed to miss him in such a short amount of time. I exhale heavily, relieved he is finally here to protect me from whatever might come next.
Weak and selfish? Yes.
However, that’s my truth, and I think the time has come to own up to all my cravings. I’m going to hell anyway.
What is a little more time spent with the devil on this earth going to change?
He scoops my hair up, the light tug breaking goose bumps on my skin, and throws it over my shoulder before something cold touches my collarbone.
My eyes snap open to meet his in the mirror; his green ones have become almost molten with desire. A loud click echoes in the space as Zachary pulls at my hair again and lets it fall down my back.
And in this, my gaze lands on the brilliant emerald in the shape of a tear mounted on a platinum necklace encrusted with diamonds. It stand out on my neck yet oddly works harmoniously with the overall picture.
Gasping, I place my fingers on it and run them over the stone, my questioning look not going unnoticed by Zachary. “My woman can’t go out without wearing something outrageous,” he murmurs and wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me to him so that my back collides with his chest, his strong embrace almost chaining me to him. “And it matches the ring on your finger. I thought about earrings, but no one would have seen those with this fucking gorgeous hair of yours.” He breathes in its scent. “Your smell reminds me of the most fragrant of flowers that I can’t help but want to drown in it.”
His husky yet deep voice envelops me in a trance, blocking the outside world away, and when he runs his lips from my bare shoulder to my neck, leaving small kisses on his way, I shift my head to the side, giving him better access for a moment, focusing on nothing but the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
“You are so beautiful. How can a man resist such a beauty?” His grip on my hips tightens, his fingers digging into my skin as his voice drops a few octaves. “Others can look, but no one is allowed to touch you. Do you understand?” The possessiveness lacing his tone and the flash of anger in his eyes snap me out of the haze he created around me, and with a gasp, I move to the side, wanting to escape him when realization of the situation settles in on me. “Especially Sebastian Hale.”
Unbelievable.
Putting my hands above his, I tug on them, trying to snatch them away from me, but they stay glued on me until I huff in frustration. “Stop this. Don’t act like—”
“Like who?” he asks, biting my neck and earning himself a groan from me. “Like a man who is obsessed with every breath you take?”
“Like you have rights to this body or me.”
His chuckles send chills down my spine, and he leans closer to my ear, biting on the earlobe before soothing it with a lick of his tongue. “I do. You. Are. Mine. Phoenix.” I jerk in his hold, but once again it’s useless. “Deny it or not, this is not just sex. If it weren’t for my past mistakes, you wouldn’t be resisting it so much.”
The words of denial are on the tip of my tongue, angry lashing-out words that would send us further into… whatever that dark place is.
However, the time has come to be a grownup and not a child who argues with anyone, because she thinks it’s the best decision. “I know,” I whisper, and he frowns, surprised with my admission, and this finally allows me to slip from his arm to turn around and face him. “I know, Zach. We have what people call a fatal attraction that knows no boundaries.” He opens his mouth to says something, but I place my fingers on it, shutting him up. “But do you really think it has the power to erase the past to a point where I would accept it? A few hours in the night is one thing; anything else would be a—” I don’t want to say it, yet he probably guesses it.
Betrayal to my daughter who his actions killed. Everyone else can shame me all they want for being with him; however, my own conscience is louder than anyone else. Moving on is a beautiful thing, but in some cases, it’s just impossible.
Repeating it to him and in my mind seems like a broken record, so I stay silent, drinking in his closeness as my body reacts to his covered in a black suit that emphasizes his toned muscles and goes well with his darkish look.
The bowtie on his neck makes me want to tear it away so I can open the V of his shirt, one of his sexiest features, and graze my fingers over the light coating of hair on it.
Because that’s all we can have, a fleeting moment in time where his touch makes me forget everything and find solace in his arms.
He palms my head gently, tipping it back, and he says with harshness in his tone, “After all of this is done, when we catch the person that turned our lives upside down, we’ll talk. And then you can tell me if it’s over or not.” My brows furrow at the odd edge in his gaze and tension in his body. “Promise me that once all of this is done, you’ll listen to me before you listen to your instincts.”
“What will my instincts say?” I ask, dread along with fear filling my bones as I can predict I won’t like anything he says, yet somehow, he thinks it will give this thing between us a chance?
Is there a more confusing man than Zachary King?
“I promise,” I say, since he doesn’t let me go, and he searches my face and must see the truth shining back at him, because he nods and places a soft kiss on my forehead.
“Let’s go, baby. It’s showtime.”
And with this, all thoughts of resisting him wash away, and I do something unexpected, hug him closer and burrow my face in his chest.
He doesn’t say anything, allowing me to soak in
all his strength and confidence so I’ll be able to face all the people but mostly importantly the unsub.
The unsub who I hope with every fiber of my being will come tonight, so it can end once and for all.
* * *
James parks the car in front of a spacious mansion—or more like a castle, for it’s made out of the finest brick covered in various flowers that seem to grow within it since every possible crack is either filled with them.
Ever since we arrived, I’ve studied the endless amount of land with the emerald grass along with marble statues showcasing, by the looks of it, different times in history. Oak trees surround the place with several alcoves in the distance, luring people to rest there with a book.
The concrete paths lead to several destinations, each more mysterious than the next, and I can’t help but notice how flawless it is.
Gray, with not a crack in sight, as if someone regularly reworks it.
All in all, this place speaks of luxury but not in the way Zachary’s house does. This one is more subtle, yet its dominant nature makes you curious and at the same time wary of what you might find inside.
“You rented an entire castle for this? This place is huge!” I ask in disbelief, and Zachary flashes me a grin, winking at me. “If I knew you wanted it, I would have.”
James chuckles from the front, and Zach must take pity on my confusion, because he adds, “That’s my family home.”
I frown. “I thought you said your house belonged to your mother.”
An unreadable expression settles on his face, and his jaw tics, although none of this affects his tone. “It does. It belonged to her, and she liked to go there often. This one Dad bought when his empire exploded, and we moved in here. For two years before Mom got sick. Then he brought his new wife here, and she gladly made it her home.” It’s impossible not to hear the resentment ringing in his words, and I sigh inwardly, thinking that all these years haven’t changed his feelings about his father’s marriage.
While I’m not an expert on family dynamic, shouldn’t he have let go of it in the last twenty-five years? Besides, based on his interaction with Lydia, I thought the relationship improved at least with his stepsiblings.
Now, I’m not so sure about that.
“Why did you decide to do the engagement party here?”
A very odd choice, considering his complicated relationship, and he shrugs, lacing his fingers with mine before he opens the door to the cold wind slipping inside, and says, “Because I’m a fucking King and love to remind them about that.”
As we get out of the car, I see a man wearing a brown suit running toward us down the marble steps, his long suit jacket flapping behind him, and he reaches us in record time, panting for breath but still managing to grate through his teeth, “Young master. You are here. Everyone is waiting for you.”
I bark a laugh and quickly cover it with my lace-glove-covered palm, and the elderly man blinks at me in surprise, probably wondering what’s so funny.
Zachary rolls his eyes at me then addresses the man. “Thank you, Patrick.” And then he drags me toward the door while I can’t stop laughing, and he orders, “Drop it.”
“Young master,” I repeat and giggle. “Oh my God. After all these years, they still call you that.”
“I asked him many times to just call me by name, but he finds the idea outrageous. He has been in the family for the last thirty years.” I guess the staff becomes part of the family in such cases, watching kids grow up and then their kids.
Even by how warmly Zachary acts with them all, not replacing them with someone younger, speaks volumes about him.
Traces of good and honorable character that shouldn’t be ignored because of the one hideous thing he did in the past.
He doesn’t give me time to dwell on this thought as he announces, “The minute we step inside this house, we are a couple in love. Remember that.” His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “The more love we show, the more it will unsettle unsub.”
I raise our locked hands. “I’m holding your hand right now, even without an audience.” Maybe because I feel that he needs this support as much as I do. To some extent whenever he enters this house, he is still that ten-year-old boy who was rejected by his father in favor of his new family.
Those kinds of scars stay with us forever, no matter how much we try to cure them. It doesn’t always mean parents are monsters, but kids see everything through their prism. And for a child, a divorce or the loss of a parent is a devastating experience where their world as they knew it gets shattered apart.
Wait.
I grip this thought in my mind, thinking how it might apply to the unsub with her almost possessive tendencies toward me. Could her parents have divorced, and in this she felt left out by the rest of her family?
However, the deep tone coming from the doors at the top of the stairs snaps me out of my examination, and I promise myself to come back to it again as my eyes land on the speaker. “You took your sweet time getting here, Zachary.”
I have no doubt it’s Anthony King standing in front of me right now, as he is the older version of Zachary. Same height and overbearing presence that is easily detectable, and the green eyes that have the power to be deadly.
The only differences are his gray hair that I’ll bet once was black and some deep wrinkles, but overall, he looks great for a man his age.
“Well, I figured we should make an entrance,” he says right back at his father, and we finally go inside the house, passing by the man. I have a second to see a bright hallway lit by huge chandeliers and covered with expensive carpets before I tug on my hand, stopping Zachary’s movements.
He looks at me in surprise, and I free myself from his hold as anger crosses his face. He clearly thinks I’m about to be difficult or cause a scene when we are supposed to be presenting a united front.
I spin around to face his father whose brows lift, and I extend my hand to him. “Hi, my name is Phoenix. We haven’t met before.”
Zach growls in annoyance. “We have no time for this.”
“A few seconds won’t change your grand entrance. Besides, you should be the one introducing me to your father!” I hiss back at him, and his gaze darkness. He grits his teeth before exhaling heavily.
“Father, I’d like you to meet Phoenix, my future wife. Phoenix, this is my father, Anthony King in the flesh.” He addresses me then, “Happy now?”
Flashing him a bright smile while simultaneously sending daggers his way, I say sweetly, “Enormously.” Zach might have issues with his father, but it doesn’t mean I will be rude to him or show disrespect.
I turn my attention back to Anthony and notice amusement flickering in his gaze, and to my surprise, he pulls me by my hand into his arms, swallowing me in a bear hug, and I freeze.
In all my life, I’ve been hugged by a lot of people. Either patients, their grateful families, my friends, and even the men in my life.
Yet for the first time, the hug has such a strong feeling of acceptance and even tenderness, almost like…
Is this what it feels like when a parent loves his child and hugs him close to his chest, promising that everything will be all right?
The things I’ve only heard of, since even Sebastian’s father never hugged me, just gave me curt nods and shook my hand on the rare occasion.
Anthony and Zachary share one more trait.
Their presence has the power to calm any storm inside a person as they surround them with their protectiveness the minute you become important to them.
And I guess in Anthony’s world, marrying Zach is enough of a sign to accept me with open arms.
“You are crushing her, Dad,” Zachary growls, tugging on my arm, but Anthony sways to the side, leaning back.
“Boy, watch your mouth. I don’t think I care for your tone.” I’m surprised at the warning in his voice. I thought he’d let Zachary do anything he wanted, and Zach doesn’t bother playing nice with his father. At least based on everyth
ing he said before, I got that impression.
I groan inwardly anticipating Zachary’s lash of temper just before we have to go in and meet everyone.
However, instead of bursting into flames, Zachary fists his hands and stays silent.
And that’s when realization hits me.
Despite all his anger… Zachary still loves his dad and craves his attention, just as he did when he was ten years old. But he doesn’t know how to ask for it, because he is blinded by everything his father did for his new family.
Anthony leans back, palms my head, and smiles down on me. “Welcome to the family, Phoenix. No one will ever hurt you again.” His voice deepens, sending shivers down my spine. “Because no one touches the Kings and lives a peaceful life after that.” With this, he finally lets me go into Zachary’s arms and points in the common room’s direction. “Go meet your guests. We will talk after.” His eyes narrow on Zachary. “Don’t think I forgot about the unanswered message.”
How could he have possibly organized all this if he didn’t even talk with his father?
Zachary though already pulls me toward the hall, my heels clicking soundly on the marble, and with a few more steps, we enter the so-called common room, and I can’t help but gasp at the view in front of me.
Ballroom—that’s the first thought that comes to mind when I see the huge space, shining marble with a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling along with small lamps lighting up the place, giving it a majestic yet mysterious vibe, which the soft jazz music played by the musicians on the center stage enhances.
Servers run around holding heavy trays filled with either champagne glasses or small side dishes while around fifty people wearing expensive gowns and suits stroll through the place, dancing closer to the stage where there is a dance floor or chatting among each other, the hum of conversations ringing in the air and mixing with the music.
The terrace doors leading outside are open, allowing the fresh air to get inside, which makes all the scent of perfumes bearable I guess, and several guests to go out to smoke.