Page 71 of To Claim A King
I drew a slow breath, blew it out in one rush of air, and smiled.
“Hey Bella,” I whispered, “It’s been a long time…”
One year later
“Holy feck, have you seen this?!” Lucky crowed in triumph as he read a news article online while we all ate breakfast.
Well, Kellan and Aaron were eating breakfast—they’d fallen in love withalmusal, the standard breakfast of the Filipino—eggs, fried rice, and a cured pork thing they swore was delicious, but I wasn’t sold. I was drinking my standard green smoothie, with fresh fruit right off our trees on the island, and Lucky was munching on dessert, aka the Philippine Nestle equivalent ofCount Chocula.
We were seated in the solarium, a beautiful room of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the surf on the beach side of the island. The sea was still today, the azure water beckoning me out for a skinny dip.
“I would guess that we have not seen it,Rojo,” Aaron stated dryly after a mouthful of coffee. “Feel free to share.”
“Oh, you’re going tolovethis.” My redheaded lover cackled as he stood from his seat and bounded toward me, shoving his phone in my palm. “Looks like our parents finally did themselves in!”
I put down the dregs of my smoothie to read aloud the article he had up on the screen.
“An American man and woman have been charged with fraud after attempting to sell a forgery of ‘Reclining Nude,’ by Amedeo Modigliani. Camden Lane, one of the accused, claimed his wealthy daughter, Hillary Lane, previous owner of Lane Enterprises, had gifted him the painting before she took a leave from her company. Camden Lane is no stranger to the police, after being sentenced to house arrest for insider trading less than a decade ago. Marcia Davidson, his alleged accomplice, is not known to American police, but further investigation yielded ties to The Six, an alleged “for-hire” network of thieves with bases in six different countries. Sentencing is underway for the pair, but ten years' imprisonment is the likely verdict. Hillary Lane could not be reached for comment.”
“Did you know about this?” Kellan inquired after another mouthful of rice.
“I didn’t.” I handed the phone back to Lucky with a gleeful grin of my own. “But I counted on the possibility. I figured they would dig their own graves, so why should I waste my time doing it for them?”
I’d already sold my painting, the legitimate original, via a private deal, and it was safely sitting in a very secure vault of the Japanese buyer’s private collection. I’d walked away from most of my wealth when I removed myself fromLane Enterprises, but the painting’s proceeds, along with Lucky’s “little” nest eggs of several million dollars, had financed this island property and our lifestyle moving forward. I wasn’t sailing away on a yacht, but I hadn’t resorted to polyester, either.
Shrugging smugly, I grabbed a mug from the cupboard to make my morning cappuccino.
“That’s my Blondie, fecking smart, she is.” Before I could grind the fresh espresso beans, Lucky pulled me into his arms and smacked a wet, obnoxious kiss on my lips. “Always believing the worst in humanity, and half the time she’s right!”
“Hey!” I protested, pointing the filter into his chest. “That’s not true. I believed in Blackbird’s innocence, didn’t I?”
Marco Alvarez had finally been sentenced to prison a few months ago—with his father, Alejandro, and his brother, Daniel, along with him. We all had to fly back to the US to testify against him, and a lifetime in prison with no chance for parole had been the final verdict. Kellan leveraged a connection with a gang member loyal to him for years, and when Alvarez was finally cornered by multiple men with shanks, they’d drawn some truths out of him before they bled him to death.
According to Mad Dog, whoever the hell that was, Blackbird had originally been on Marco’s payroll when I’d hired her, acting as a double agent between us for several years. Somewhere along the line she’d changed her tune—maybe she hadn’t realized what Marco was actually up to when he’d hired her. Maybe she had a sadist kink and decided she liked the way I conducted torture more. But she’d switched allegiances to me and jumped on board to help Lucky hack into his company. When Marco discovered her betrayal, he had her killed, and sent me the warning.
I sat with that betrayal for a long time. I’d considered her a friend, but she’d played me all along, right under mynose. Still, without her help, we wouldn’t be sitting on our private island watching the birds on the shoreline at breakfast, all our enemies vanquished.
Walking the line between light and dark was complicated.
“You did,Mi Reina,” Aaron agreed with a small smile playing on his lips. “And her true actions were most unfortunate. But you nearly gave the pool boy a heart attack when you thought he was paparazzi.”
We’d had a few uninvited visitors to the island in the last few months, and I’d reached the end of my patience when I’d seen Angelo out on the pool deck like he belonged there.
Apparently, he did.
“How could I have known Kellan hired someone new?” I complained before turning the grinder on to drown out the sound of their chuckles.
“You tackled him into the pool,” Kellan deadpanned, one scruffy blond eyebrow raised in challenge. “Extreme, even for you, Killer.”
We’d mostly enjoyed our privacy on this side of the world, but I’d developed a bit of notoriety being one of the few billionaires on the planet who’d walked away from it all. Some said I’d developed an expensive drug habit and was shutting myself into rehab for the foreseeable future. Some theorized I’d “found Jesus” and I was “walking my path to redemption.”
Accurate, but not in the way they were thinking.
I issued my best death glare at the bronzed Viking God seated at our breakfast table. His hair was even longer now, hanging past his shoulders to well below his shoulder blades. He’d sometimes put it in a ponytail on the top of his head and braid it down his back, in a very effective move to obliterate all of my defenses and have me on the floor under him in minutes. I was a sucker for his version of Uhtred.
“I said I was sorry and sent him home with a fruit basket. Mybestmangos, Kellan.”
“Her best mangos, Kellan!” Lucky sing-songed. When my glare turned on him, he blew me a kiss. “How about I get a taste of your mango before work, Blondie?” He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively and winked, the lascivious grin telling me exactly which mango he was referring to.
