Page 18 of Faded Rhythm

“He was banging?”

“I guess. I never saw anything but…with record labels, everybody is on something strange or criminal. Anyway,” I say, my voice cracking, “Dash dying made me…unravel.”

I’m crying now, unable to control it. King walks over to me and swipes a thumb across my cheek. It’s a little too intimate and familiar, but also exactly what I need right now. I close my eyes and resist the urge to grab onto his wrist. And hold on.

“You’ve had a lot of loss in your life,” he murmurs as he stares down at me. “We have that in common.”

I watch him walk away and retake his seat. Everything in me wants to ask him to elaborate, but I don’t. He told me he doesn’ttalk about his life. And it’s not my business anyway. Details of his life won’t keep me alive.

I clear my throat. “You talk about royalty, it was really was like a black version of a royal wedding. Or maybe a rap version. Politicians. Rappers. Athletes. Brett told me we’d be a power couple. I’d be the new queen of the empire when Dime handed it over. But he never did.”

“Do you think Brett loved you?”

I think about that. “I think…I think he married me to keep me close. And to join our families. Tighten control. Things between Dime and my dad started to shift before he died. The partnership wasn’t as solid anymore.”

“So you were supposed to be the glue.”

I nod again.

“Well, I’m sure that isn’t the only reason he married you. Look at you. Beautiful. Smart. Sweet.”

My eyes snap to his, locking in. He looks embarrassed, like his words surprised even him.

I glance away, cheeks hot. “Thanks,” I say. My voice is small, but the flutter in my belly is large and won’t be ignored.

I can’t remember the last time Brett complimented me. I can’t remember the last time he looked at me with anything other than boredom or contempt.

It feels good to be seen. Even if the man seeing me is a hitman sent to murder me.

I chuckle dryly at the absurdity.

“What?” King asks.

“Nothing. This is just…a lot. Still doesn’t feel real.” I check the clock. “Is this helping at all? Any of it?”

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Not yet. But it gives me something to go on. For now, we need to formulate a plan.”

“For…?”

“Faking your death. It has to be believable so I can get you out of here clean. Buy us some time to figure out what the hell he’s really up to.”

The room feels warmer all of a sudden. Sweat beads across my forehead. It’s like the walls are closing in on me. But King is steady. Present and ready to act. And beneath all the danger and mystery around him is something I haven’t felt in a long time.

Safe.

Our eyes lock again, and heat simmers just beneath the surface. I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if we’d met under different circumstances. If he wasn’t a killer and I wasn’t a target.

And even thought I know I shouldn’t, I want to ask him what else he sees when he looks at me.

Instead, I say, “I have to check on the girls.”

And I do, but I also needed space. From him.

Because I think I’m starting to want him.

9

King

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