“Finally,” he groans as he rips open the dry noodles. “I’m fucking starving.”
“I’m sure you are. Can’t get enough of the overly processed instant noodles, huh?”
With dark circles under his eyes and a layer of grime clinging to him, he looks up at me. “Yeah, when it’s the only food you give me, asshole.”
At one point, Ryland’s insults gave me the urge to punch him in his filthy mouth. Now? I barely register his words. I can’t wait to get rid of Ryland; he’s been a pain in my arse from the start.
Thomas appears behind me. “Shut your mouth, you muppet.”
Ryland shoots me a dirty look, but Thomas slams the door on him, locking it and trapping him in his cramped, windowless dungeon once again.
We head outside and wait in front of the building. Xavier is sending a car to pick us up and bring us to the charity event, like the VIP guests we are. If he’d done this earlier, he would have saved me from stealing a car.
“Do you think this is a trap?” Thomas asks, the cool wind blowing his hair. “What if Kingsley already told his family, and they’re waiting to kill us the moment we go in? Or worse?”
The thought had already crossed my mind. We should’ve bailed when Kingsley figured us out. Waiting around is lining up like chickens waiting to be slaughtered.
But I’m not ready to tell the Requiem how Tommy and I fucked up. At least doing this will prolong them from finding out we blew our cover.
More importantly, I want to see King one last time. I trust he doesn’t have his entire family ready to gut me like a pig. But on the off chance he does, the knife in my sock and the concealed gun both Tommy and I have should be enough.
“Nah,” I wave my hand dismissively. “Kingsley wouldn’t do that.”
“Knowing what he knows now, are you sure? How well do you really know him?”
I make sharp eye contact, straightening my back and lowering my tone. “Enough that I’ll sock you in the mouth if you keep talking about him like that.”
Thomas stares, bored. “Your intimidation tactics stopped working on me a long time ago.”
The car pulls up as I’m about to speak, and Thomas smirks as he goes toward it, leaving me scowling on the sidewalk. The little bastard knows exactly how to piss me off.
The driver takes us across town to the charity event, and the entire ride, all I’m thinking about is what I’ll do when I see Kingsley. I need him to hear me out. I don’t have all the answersto solve this, but I need him to know not everything that has come out of my mouth has been a lie.
Is my last name Wright? No. Am I a social media marketer? Fuck no. Did I share information about him and the Crowncrest with my family? I guess.
Were these past few months with him only a game to get what I want? Absolutely not.
Is Kingsley mine? A thousand times, yes.
I’ve always been protective of the few people close to me, but no one else has ever inspired the fierce, territorial instinct in me that Kingsley does. Every woman I’ve been with was only fun for the night, and I wanted to throw up at the thought of anything more. But King? They’d have to pry him from my cold, dead hands.
We’re so different. He’s always calm, speaking in a tranquil tone with rational thinking, while I see red at the slightest inconvenience and am always ready to resort to violence. Kingsley only gets intense when he has to, which makes it that much hotter when he does. He’s perfectly himself in all the best ways. I can’t let us part while he believes this was all to complete a mission.
We arrive at the same large, elegant building where the gala was held, only they’ve replaced the overpriced artwork with tables, wine, food, and a stage for the host’s speech at the end. Xavier and Mya are the first people I spot. He’s all smiles and open arms when we show up, like we’re old mates, not employees. He gives us both a quick, tight hug. I guess it was a “dad hug,” though I can’t recall my dad giving me one to know for sure.
Two men, giving off a polished yet stern aura, stand flanking Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont. They’re friends of the Beaumonts, and I recognize them from the gala event a few weeks ago.
“Rip, Thomas, so glad you made it.” Thomas’s shoulders give a sudden twitch when Xavier claps him on the back. “Gentlemen, these are the social media employees I’ve been telling you about. They’re the ones who will film us today.”
The man with deep wrinkles, looking like he’s overdue for retirement, extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, boys. We’ve heard only positive things.”
“Us as well,” Thomas replies politely. We’ve never heard a word about this man.
Mya goes on and on about how great our work is. I’m flattered by the praise, given we’re not at all qualified and are just winging it. Honestly, we owe our success to Kingsley’s model looks and the fact that Thomas and I aren’t clueless and incapable of using a phone.
We’ve been here five minutes, yet I haven’t seen Kingsley. He’s the only reason I’m even at this boring event. There is no way he didn’t show up—not with everything he has going on. So, where is he?
When Thomas nudges me, I realize the group’s changed direction. I’m right behind them, lugging the bulky camera equipment and trying not to let all the wild arm-flailing damage my stuff.
