Page 39 of The Billionaires' Gamble
It feels like we’re talking about moving in together, and everyone’s on board. But then King backpedals, and I don’t know where his head’s at. That’s to say nothing of all the travel on everyone’s schedule, but it’s starting to feel like if I want to see them, I’ve gotta get flexible.
“I like the bathtub,” I chime in and smirk over at Alex.
“Same.”
“I like the shower,” King adds.
We all glance at Gabe. He gives a sheepish shrug. “We could use a bigger bed.”
14
KINGSTON
I brace a hand on either side of the espresso machine, willing it to brew faster. Behind me, Alex sits at the island, his mug full of the steaming elixir. Gabe and I stayed up way too late on the couch, chatting about this and that. Now my eyes feel like my eyelids are made of sandpaper.
I might go for a swim and work out some of the aches. Or maybe G wants to go for a run.
When my cup is finally ready, I turn toward Alex and approach the island. He glances up from his tablet.
“We never talked last night.”
He nods, dropping his gaze to his mug. “We were a bit distracted.”
“Understatement,” I smirk, then blow on my coffee.
He gives me a quick rundown of how he came home to see her at lunch and then headed uptown, only to find her ex with his hands all over her. I’m not normally the jealous type. Competitive, sure. But there’s a raging heat under my skin that I can only explain as fury that someone would touch her.
“She’s ours,” I grind out, and he nods.
“Oh, he knows that now.” Alex sits back, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Well, he knows that she’s not his.”
The heat cools. I relax and return to blowing on my coffee.
“He told me to watch her back. Apparently, you were right. He is in bed with Lucinda.” He glances toward the front of the house, obviously looking and listening for Katherine. “And Lucinda seems particularly interested in Katherine’s inheritance.”
My brows knit. “Why?”
Alex sits back. “He said that Lucinda wants to buy out Cort.”
“Good morning,” Katherine sing-songs as she glides into the kitchen.
I glance over my shoulder at her. She, unlike me, looks well rested. Her hair is pulled back in a sleek, low ponytail, and she’s wearing a dark green loungewear set that makes her hair look like a polished penny.
My Wildfire is as pretty as a picture, and I really need to get her into that green dress at some point.
“Morning,” I murmur, and she shoots me ayou-gonna-be-okaylook.
I lift my coffee cup at her.
“Morning, Beauty,” Alex says, scooting out a chair for her.
“What’s this about your mom being interested in your inheritance?”
“Dude!” Alex says.
I ignore him. “I thought that dropped when you turned twenty-five?”
She glances between us and sighs, then collapses into the bar chair, hands folded in her lap. I see her defenses rising, the thick wall she kept around herself for so long. It took ages to chip away at it. To get her to let me in.
