Page 17 of Vengeful King

I nod, calm. “I understand.”

In reality, I don’t. It’s frustrating. If he loves his daughter so much, it’s beyond me why he’d put her in this situation. But I know the truth of these things. Cross is the last in a long line of his family, the second-eldest son. He may not be the firstborn, but he has the power. His brother has health issues, and there’s a chance Cross could take everything.

He wants what isn’t his, and I understand that. He’s making this business arrangement to gain ground. It’s the same for me. I want an in, a way to legitimize the family. I want to branch out from the club, find more footing in the real world.

We both have things to gain from this negotiation. It’s the details that are the hardest part.

We sit and talk for an hour, punctuated by coffee and lapses into silence as we consider each other’s words. I know this won’t be finished today. We’re both just feeling each other out, gauging what might need to be sacrificed, what can’t be compromised on.

We don’t come to an agreement, but progress is made. By the end, I know more about what Cross wants, and he understands that I’m not some uneducated muscle man. I’m not some garden-variety criminal with too much money. I know what I’m talking about, and I can match him step for step.

Cross stands at the end of it, something more serious in his gaze when he looks at me this time. He might have underestimated me.

“It’s been enlightening, O’Reilly. We’ll meet again.”

“Yes,” I agree. “We will.”

I leave the hotel thinking about Naomi and Cross, about the deal I need to secure. There’s time yet to make this work, but the sooner it happens, the better. I know now how to handle Cross. It won’t be much longer before I’m standing in a chapel, marrying a woman I don’t know.

I won’t be the first man in the family to do it.

The thought should be comforting. I should feel better, thinking about how Aiden’s and Connor’s marriages were both arranged. How they were both made for security, for the family. I should be confident given how they both turned out. How deeply both my brothers are in love with their wives.

But I know it won’t be the same for me.

I start the trip back to the club with bitterness on my tongue. The bad mood clings to me, somehow refusing to leave. It has its fingers dug deep into me, clawing away at the strongest part of me. I want to be unaffected, but I’m not.

I have no objection to marrying for the gain of the family. That’s what I’ve always known I’d do. It was never a bad thing to me, never something I questioned. I’ve known since I was young that marriage is a great tool for gaining ground and alliances. It was never about romance for me.

But for some reason, being in that meeting with Cross made my shoulders tighten. It made me tense in a way other deals haven’t. Not even when I’ve been in the Assembly, defending my family.

It just doesn’t make sense.

I know the only thing I can do now is unwind, do some work. Focus on anything but the meeting and the marriage on the horizon. I can distract myself; I have enough responsibilities to do that.

When I step through the front doors, I find the small crowd that’s gathered with their attention on the stage. I pause, following their gazes, and find Kate on the stage. Dancing.

She’s gorgeous. I know the patrons notice her too, something different drawing them in. They’re watching in a way they normally don’t—and I can’t say I blame them. There’s something about Kate that draws you in. Something powerful.

She’s beautiful. There’s a strength in her when she dances, a careful power that’s alluring and mysterious. She works the pole without a single misstep. And she looks like a fucking goddess while doing it; every little detail is right, from the way she lifts her legs to the way her hands are always perfectly placed. From head to toe, nothing is out of place. She’s perfect.

I can’t help watching, just for a few moments. But I know I shouldn’t, so I tear myself away, reminding myself I have things to do. I head for my office and settle in behind my desk, ignoring the distant beat of the music from the main part of the club.

But even with my mind distracted by work, I can’t quite stop thinking about Kate.

I can’t stop thinking about the way she stood on that stage when it was just the two of us, her chin held high and her gaze unwavering. I can’t stop thinking about the way her face was so perfect and still, like a painting or a statue.

How her lips parted just slightly when I touched her.

I finish some of my work, but I can’t keep going. There’s too much going on in my head. I have to leave, go home. I’m turned on and on edge.

I leave out the back so I don’t have to go through the club and see anyone dancing again. It must just be that I need this itch scratched, need to get it out of my system. It’s just something I need to take care of. That’s all.

I’m in my car when I call the number; I want someone at my house as fast as I can get them. The woman on the other end knows me, and she greets me politely before getting down to business.

“One?”

“Yes. Immediately.”

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