by Teagan Kade
“The what? Non-hockey speak, please.”
“Boston and Washington.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “No fucking way. You just made that up.”
I open the first folder to show her. “Hand on heart, they were the best offers. The Caps are first in the Metro Division, the Bruins holding, so either way it’s looking promising.”
“We can be together.”
“Or four-hundred miles apart,” I counter.
She puts down the folder she was holding, looping her arm around mine and letting her head fall to my shoulder. “We will make it work, husband.”
I’m still not used to hearing that.
Linnea senses my surprise. “You good?”
“Fine.”
She lifts herself from my shoulder. “What is it? Are you having doubts?”
“About which team to choose?”
“About us, silly. About our marriage.”
“Of course not.”
“How long do you think it will last, honestly?”
It’s a strange question. She lets go of my arm as I turn to face her in full. “You seriously want me to answer that?”
“Yes.”
I study her eyes but can’t make out where she is going with this. I want her to be certain, beyond any doubt, I’m in this for the long game. I don’t want there to be any uncertainty.
I take her face in my hands and smile. “Babe,” I tell her, doing my best to make my tone level and even, “forever. It’s going to last forever.”
She smiles back. “Sorry, I just…”
“You don’t have to apologize. I get it. It all happened so fast. Hell, we barely had time to breathe, to process it all, but I’m not sorry we got married. I’ve never been so sure, so positive about a single decision in my whole life, and the thought of spending it with you, even when we’re old and the highlight of our week is bingo night, makes me so happy it hurts.”
“Bingo night?” she laughs. “Forget that. We’ll be back in bed at the retirement village making sweet, sweet love.”
“Even when my balls are hanging around my ankles?”
“I’ll always love your balls, my dear—now and forever.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
LINNEA
Who needs medieval torture when you’ve got macroeconomics?
I come out of class ready for my brain to burst. It’s stuffed with more information than it knows how to handle. On top of everything that’s been happening it’s high time for R&R.
“Linnea.”
Instinctively, I pull my books to my chest and search to find the source of the voice.
I don’t have to look far.
It’s Harry, emerging from the trees.
Jesus. I thought my father was over these cheap tricks.
I look to see where his goons are hiding.
Harry puts his hands up. “I came alone. You have my word on that.”
“If you’re hanging around with my father, I can’t imagine your word means much at all.”
Harry approaches me slowly, lowering his hands. Crestfall is used to money, but the air of affluence Harry gives off is on another level. I wouldn’t be surprised if he shits gold bricks.
“You have your father all wrong, you know,” he continues. “He only wants what’s best for you.”
We’re in a public space. There are more than enough people around to provide me with a certain sense of security. “My father wants what’s best for my father. It has always been that way.”
Harry’s lips press upwards. He nods to himself. “All right. To be honest, I’m not eager to marry either.”
“No!” I exclaim, making the sarcasm clear.
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re attractive enough in a—” he hunts for the words “—utilitarian way.”
“Utilitarian? Well, aren’t you Romeo incarnate?”
He ignores that, holding up a finger for emphasis. “But…we need to do this for our fathers and their businesses. It’s important.”
“You cannot be serious. I mean, you sat by idly while my father kidnapped me off the street. Honestly, do you really think I’m going for this bullshit you’re rolling out?”
He’s persistent if nothing else. “You have to look at the bigger picture, Linnea. This extends beyond you and me, beyond our fathers. This is about protecting jobs and employees, everyone involved. Together, our companies could be strong, safeguarded against almost anything the market might throw up, but separate, at war… That’s going to cost people. It might cost lives.”
He actually smiles at himself for coming up with this, like the teacher’s pet who’s just been called up to the blackboard. “That’s your play, is it?”
“It is.”
“Think about it. Think past yourself, Linnea.”
That does it. I step up to this silver-spooned, gold-plated piece of corporate trash and stab a finger into his chest. “No. You can pass that onto my father.”
He slides his hands into his pockets. “If you’d just listen to—”
I’ve been waiting for the final blow.
I hold up my hand, turn it so he can see the wedding ring. “Take a long, hard look, Harry. I’m already married.”
The moment the shock hits him is priceless. “But—”
And so his little Ted Talk is finished. He’s lost for words. “That’s right,” I tell him, confidence building. “I’m married to Nolan King and anything my father wants, whether it be marriage, his daughter back, or maybe to float in French champagne, I will play no part in it. Am I being clear here?”
Harry just bites his tongue. “Hm,” he replies, stalking off and no doubt seething from the news.
Good.
Great, I think.
Carrie approaches me. “Who’s the suit? Is he single?”
I watch him storm off quite pleased with myself. “He’s single all right, but I’d stay away if I was you.”
“I don’t mind if he ties me up and takes me to his red room. A couple of billion in the bank wouldn’t hurt either. Momma needs a new handbag.”
I have to laugh. “Momma needs to keep clear of guys who only care about one thing.”
“Sex?”
“No, idiot, power,” I reply, looking to where Harry is disappearing into the crowd of students emerging from the IT building.
Carrie follows my gaze. “No, seriously, who was that dude?”
I start walking, Carrie falling into step beside me. “Son of my one of my father’s competitors. They want a merger, and a marriage, apparently.”
She looks to my ring, “But you’re…” She rolls her eyes. “Ohhh, now I get it.”
I give her a look of sympathy. “And here I was wondering why they made you repeat second grade.”
She elbows me. “Watch it, bitch.”
I elbow her back. “Save the trash talk for the boards, Luísa Harris.”
“I consider myself more of a Sue Bird, actually.”
“Just without the four Olympic golds.”
Which earns me another elbow. “Watch it, hotshot. You haven’t signed on to a team yet. A little slip ’n’ trip in the locker room and…”
“Wow,” I laugh. “You really do have a dark side.”
“Doesn’t everyone? Even Mr. Swoon himself, your BF—sorry— husband.”
I can’t keep the smile away. “Yes, he is. Taken.”
Carrie throws her hands up. “Where art thou long lost King brother? Come to Carrie. Feel thy breast.”
I put my hand over her mouth. “You’re making a scene.”
“Save my vagina! Deliver me thine multiple orgasms!” she wails when I let my hand go.
I quickly force it back over her mouth doing my best to contain my laughter. “Who needs enemies when I’ve got a friend like you?”
*
Practice is a whole new grade of brutal. I don’t know if Coach is looking to kill us off before we graduate, but she’s sure as hell trying her hardest.
The
locker room’s like a leper’s den—cries of woe and agony reverberating off the walls.
I’m dreaming about Nolan’s hands working me over, maybe something else a bit more thick and solid coming into play for those hard-to-reach areas fingers can’t access.
I’m beat myself, leaning against my locker door for support when my cell starts to vibrate.
I pick it up and swipe the text open.
Surprise, surprise, it’s from my father.
I honestly thought putting Harry in his place would be the end of it, that the news would trickle down to my father and he’d finally admit defeat.
Clearly, I should have known better.
He doesn’t mince words.
He rages about revealing my ‘indiscretion’, about how foolish I am, immature, a string of profanity following that would make a sailor blush.
I delete the text without reading the rest of it. Why should I spend energy on this? He’ll get over it. He has to. It’s done.
Still, there’s a niggle, an itch I can’t seem to scratch.
I know this isn’t the end of it.
But I can pretend.
I can forget.
For now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
NOLAN
Family brunch is becoming a regular thing at the King Senior household. Dad’s made his way over with Alissa, even Grace making the trek this time. I asked Linnea if she was certain, noting my brothers’ propensity for inappropriateness, but she was adamant it was a good idea.
The spread before us is expansive, even by my father’s standards. Clearly, he’s out to impress, to welcome Grace to the family…or kill her with food. I’m not sure which.
It’s not long before the subject turns to Rex. I watch carefully for Grace’s discomfort, but she doesn’t seem perturbed.
It’s my father who’s pressing for information.
“Have you heard anything from him?” he goes on, addressing Linnea and me.
“No, we haven’t,” I answer.
“We think, after the marriage, there’s nothing to worry about,” continues Linnea. “I’d say it’s the end of any concern.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain.”
All eyes turn to Grace, who’s placed down her knife and fork, wiping her mouth with a napkin. She looks to Linnea. “You don’t know him like I do, hon. It might seem like he’s let this drop, but he’s stubborn and ruthless, which is about as dangerous a combination as you can get.”
“And you married this man?” my father interjects.
I give him a ‘shut the hell up’ look, but once he’s on a tangent…
Mercifully, Grace takes it in stride. “Young, and foolish.”
“Isn’t it young, dumb, and full of—”
Heather manages to get her hand over Phoenix’s mouth before he gets out the rest.
Eager to steer the conversation back to calmer waters, I speak up. “I don’t really think there’s anything Rex can do now,” I say, turning my attention to Grace. “But I’ll keep an eye open.” I look around to my brothers. “We all will.”
“Damn straight,” adds Peyton, his arm around Erin’s shoulder. He eyes Linnea. “You’re a King now. You’re family.”
Grace smiles but I see the unease behind it. I don’t let it show, but I share her concern. Rex is dangerous—far more dangerous than he appears.
*
The others head off not long after lunch, including my mother. She seems to have won over the Kings—a hard task according to Nolan.
Given the weather’s heated up, we decide to go for a quick swim.
The pool at the back of Stone’s mansion is massive. I picture the old man doing laps out here himself like Crestfall’s own Bruce Wayne, halfway to asking Nolan where the batcave is when Alissa arrives with a swimsuit for me.
I take it from her. “Thank you.”
“I’d join you,” she tells us, “but we’re headed out.”
She smiles and moves away. I swear she’s some sort of housewife ninja, barely makes a sound as she moves.
I hold out the swimsuit she gave me. It’s a sheer white two-piece, bandeau top. I stretch out the bottoms and it’s way more Brazilian than I’m used to. I’ve still got PTSD from that thong.
Nolan steps out from the back of the house in black swim shorts, body resplendent in the sun. I notice the ink in his tattoos takes on a green hue in direct sunlight, his eyes becoming near translucent in their beauty and depth.
He sees me holding up the swim bottoms. “Cheeky.”
“We’ll need a rescue team to get this thing out of my ass.”
“Or my teeth,” he smiles, bouncing his eyebrows up and down.
“You’re terrible.”
“Terribly attractive,” he beams.
I roll my eyes and head to the pool house, five minutes of wrangling the swimsuit into position following. I turn and look at my butt in the mirror and, yeppers, that’s more white skin than should be legal.
I emerge blushing, Nolan standing there with his hands on his hips waving his hand to get me to turn around.
“No,” I tell him.
“Yes,” he replies.
I exhale and spin slowly, trying to cover my butt with my hands, yelping aloud when his own take them away.
“Holy shit,” he says, wolf-whistling, “we better get into that water before I take you right here.”
“With half the staff watching?”
“Let them look. Besides, can you imagine what my father and Alissa get up to out here?”
“And there goes my libido.”
“Come on,” he says, taking three steps and diving perfectly into the water, surfacing somewhere around the middle.
I ease myself in a little slower, adjusting to the temperature of the water and breast-stroking out to meet him.
He takes me in his arms. I wrap my legs around him breathing hard because my god he looks incredible.
“Still thinking about Rex?” he asks.
“Not anymore.”
His hardness is pressing against me, the iron flat of his cock against my clit. All that separates us is the fabric of our swimwear, though I’m pretty sure he’d do away with that if I asked.
“We’re alone, by the way,” he tells me.
Surprise pulls my face inwards. “What do you mean?”
“I had Alissa send the staff home early, thought we could do with the privacy.”
That flicker of desire becomes a flame.
I reach underwater and hook a finger in the crotch of my bikini bottom, dragging it to the side. “Should I take this off?”
And the smile he returns tells me I’m in for the fucking of my life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
LINNEA
There’s nothing like a good session in the gym to scrub your mind clean. You focus on the burn and the world simply slips away.
“You were like a banshee in there today,” Carrie gushes, toweling herself off in the gym’s changing room—this one a bit bigger than a closet. “I half expected you to walk out of there with an extra set of abs.”
Abs—and boom, I’m transported right to Nolan and his expert hands…and mouth…and tongue…and hell, pretty much every part of his body all seemingly fine-tuned for my very own pleasure.
And yours alone, my head adds.
Carrie’s stooped to look at me. “Hey, you having a stroke down there?”
I snap out of it and take a shirt from my bag, pulling it on. “I guess I was just extra-motivated today.”
“Why? Did Hamilton say something?”
“No, but I wanted to feel it today for some reason.”
“What’s that?” Carrie laughs. “Pain?”
I nod. “The right kind of pain.”
“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
I think of Nolan’s hand, flat against my backside last night, the soothing touch that followed and the exquisite juxtaposition of it all. We’ve been getting extra kinky of late. “Are you jealous?
”
Carrie tosses her towel onto the bench, completely naked, not that she cares. I don’t think I’ve met anyone who’s so confident in their own skin. She stands before me with her hands on her hips. “I’ve got a vibrator every shade of the rainbow. I think I’ll be just fine.”
“It’s not the same,” I tut.
“They’re hard, they’re long, they get the job done. What more do you want?”
I have to laugh at that. “Suit yourself.”
Carrie’s phone chimes. She pulls it from her bag, smiling as she reads the screen.
“It’s not your damn Pokémon Go group again, is it?”
The whole Pokémon Go trend passed a long time ago, but for some reason Carrie remains obsessed, regularly darting off to hunt these virtual monsters, or steering us to ‘gyms’—hot spots around town where these virtual creatures lurk. The average age in this group is about ten, but she doesn’t seem to mind. That’s another thing I admire about Carrie—she does not give a flying damn what other people think. Never has.
“Oh. My. God. Someone found Chimecho.”
I shake my head. “Good god, woman, you’re obsessed.”
Dressed, I pick up my bag. “I’ll leave you to your monster hunting.”
She makes a jerking off gesture. “Off to do a bit of monster wrangling yourself no doubt”
I start walking. “Bye, Carrie,” I trill.
“Oh, yes, Nolan,” she moans, attracting a good deal of attention, “give it to me. Give me that big, hard manaconda of yours. God. Yes!”
I can’t stop laughing making it out into the foyer. I swear I can still hear her going at it. Even the girl at the front desk looks puzzled.
“She’ll be fine after she’s had her meds,” I tell her.
I come out through the gym doors into a mild day of fleeting sunshine, about to step across the road when a black limo screeches to a halt, the doors popping open and my father’s goons whipping around behind me.
Not this shit again, I think to myself.
“Hey!” I yell, but it’s late and the gym’s isolated out here away from campus.
One of them takes my bag, the other forcing me into the back of the limo and sliding in beside me.
The doors slam closed and the limo is off. The whole thing takes seconds.
I calm myself, eyeing my father sitting opposite. “You could have asked nicely, you know.”