Jesus, Tommy. Not now. “What?”
“Come see.”
I facepalm. My brother always has a knack for interrupting at the very worst times. Thinking it’s about Ryland, I head to the front door, and I nearly cough up a lung when I see Kingsley there.
Thomas and I have been on edge all night after having to rush out of the club. As soon as Kingsley won, we took off, figuring we’d already overstayed our welcome. Despite the crowd, I felt like we stuck out like sore thumbs. People at Crowncrest who had any clue about us would recognize us in a heartbeat.
And I could’ve sworn I locked eyes with Kingsley.
We figured we had slipped away unnoticed, but to be cautious, we moved Ryland to Tommy’s bedroom. If Kingsley or anyone else showed up at our door unexpectedly, we’dbe covered, and we wouldn’t have loud-mouthed Ryland as a liability. It’s a good thing we did because about an hour ago, we got a knock on the door from one of the “staff” asking whether our hot water heater was working.
“The prince has arrived,” I say coolly.
Victor really messed up his pretty face. His forehead’s bruised, his lip is cut, and he’s got his hand on his side like it’s hurting, but he’s trying to hide it. My jaw clenches as I stare. I can’t believe that arrogant dick did that to Kingsley.
Pretty face.Oh, what am I, a teenage girl? That is the last word I need to use to describe him.
He leans against the doorframe. “Miss me?”
I force a grin. “Not that I don’t love spontaneous house calls, but it’s past ten. Tommy and I were getting ready to cuddle before bed. Did you need something?”
Thomas rolls his eyes, but my comment gets a half-smile out of the prince. “Bed so soon? It’s Saturday. I was wondering if you wanted to grab a couple of beers.”
A month ago, it was like pulling teeth to get Kingsley to respond to me, and now he wants to grab a couple of beers? Bloody hell, he must be onto us, or at least a tad suspicious.
Which means we were right to stash Ryland away. Who knows who else will search our place out of suspicion and find their dimwit bodyguard zip-tied to a pipe in the closet?
With tensions so high, drinking with King probably isn’t the best idea, but I have no good reason to turn him down. Thomas will have to babysit Ryland and watch the perimeter because there is no way I’m doing that. Instead, I have to do damage control.
“I’m always down for a beer,” I say, turning to my brother. “But Thomas has had a bit of a headache, so I’m not sure he’ll want to come.”
My brother, understanding immediately, nods. “Maybe another night.”
“That’s too bad,” Kingsley clicks his tongue. “Are you going dressed like that, Rip?”
I glance at my creased tee and jeans I pulled out of the laundry, my quick choice to get out of my incriminating Fight Club threads.
“Yep. You don’t like my style?”
He smirks, but doesn’t comment. “Let’s go.”
I follow Kingsley’s lead, but as I’m closing the door, I catch Thomas’s eye. I mouth “stay alert,” and he gives me a sharp nod.
There’s a black vehicle with windows tinted black as tar parked outside, and Kingsley leads us to it. He opens the back door and beckons me to come in. I look him over, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling.
This feels calculated.
His gaze is so sharp it’s like he’s staring into my soul. But alas, I climb in so he won’t wonder why I’m dragging my feet. Shit. I’m being paranoid, and that worry is more likely to expose me than anything else.
We ride in silence. While Kingsley’s lost in thought, I’m watching every turn we make, making sure we’re not heading anywhere we shouldn’t be. Eventually, we pull up to a bustling nightclub, and I can finally let out a breath.
When we get to the door, King says something in the bouncer’s ear like they know each other, and he lets us right through. Perks of your family being well known: you don’t have to wait in the hour-long line.
Instead of heading to the bar, I follow him up the roped-off stairs. We walk into the VIP area, complete with hidden booths and private servers, and nobody bats an eye. I’m sure they’re way too high to even notice what’s going on, seeing as there’s white powder all over the tables.
I understand this area is private with a bodyguard, but how is anyone so casual about open cocaine at their venue? Well, everyone here is likely a rich fuck who’s buddies with the owner, and it’s not like they’d tell on themselves.
Kingsley sinks into the velvet chair, huffing like his shoulders are carrying all the world’s problems. It’s a spacious booth, large enough to fit six people, but when I sit beside him, there are only a few inches of space between us.
