Page 28 of Making the King

“Coffee?” I ask, and he nods again.

“Black. No sugar.”

I set to work, putting the mugs in the microwave to heat before uncapping the lid on the coffee jar.

When the back door opens, both Mr. Dudley and I look up to find Cara walking in, fully dressed bar her bare feet, as she towel dries her hair.

“Oh. Mrs. King. Bruce Dudley. Your parole officer.” He moves into the kitchen, holding out his hand, and Cara just stares at it for a moment before she reluctantly takes it, like she’d rather touch anything else but him.

“Hi,” is all she says, and his lips thin.

Meanwhile, I try to focus on the task of making the coffee now that the water is heated.

I don’t know why Bruce tries to be so formal. He deals with ex-cons all the time and I’m sure the majority aren’t welcoming people.

“Let’s take a seat.” I gesture to the small two-seater table by the wall, and Bruce nods, making his way back out of my tiny kitchen.

“Can’t you make him leave?” Cara hisses at me quietly, and I shake my head.

“Nope. He’s your parole officer. Not mine.” I pick up a mug and hand it to her.

She takes it absentmindedly as she glares daggers in the back of Bruce’s head as he pulls out a chair and sits at the little table.

“Don’t forget to pretend to like me.” I grin, handing her the second cup.

She frowns now, her eyes dropping to the two mugs she holds while I pick up the third one.

I don’t know why I do it, but when I pass by her, I give her ass a light tap, and she goes to jerk out of the way, but remembers she’s holding two steamy hot cups of coffee, so she can’t go anywhere.

I chuckle as I pass by, but then her whispered words pull me up short.

“I could just expose you for the creepy dick that purchased a child bride. Then I won’t have to act and I won’t have to be your wife anymore.”

Slowly I turn back to peer at my wife, taking in her heated cheeks and tense pouty lips.

“Go for it, Killer.”

“I’ll do it.” She bares her teeth as she hisses at me, and I chuckle quietly.

“Even if Bruce believes you, he’s not the one pulling the strings. But go ahead. Waste my day and his. I’ll just end up back here by the end of the day, ready to take you to our marital bed to finish what you fucking started this morning.”

Dark eyes broadening wide, Cara goes to step past me, her nostrils flaring in anger, but I grip her biceps, pulling her up short and whisper in her ear.

“You don’t fucking know the hoops I had to jump through to get you released, but I can tell you, your only options are staying here with me, or going back to prison. Make the right choice, Cara.”

Knowing that the Bruce guy is staring at us, I lean forward and press my lips to her cheek, feeling how hot her skin burns under my touch.

Brushing past her, I walk over to Bruce and hand him his black coffee before taking the only other seat at the table.

Standing with a cup in each hand, Cara looks at me like she expects me to stand up and give her the seat.

I don’t.

I push the chair back a little more to make room and pat my leg.

“Come here, hun.”

Bruce beams across the table, and I tug Cara’s shirt, dragging her closer until she has no choice but to sit as she places the cups on the table in front of us.

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