Page 67 of King of Temptation

“What if they hate me?”

Not seeming at all surprised or annoyed by the question, he reached for her, twining their fingers together. He’d chosen to drive them rather than being driven, and there was something about having this powerful, dangerous man reaching for her with one hand while the other casually gripped the steering wheel that nearly distracted her again from her nervousness. “They already love you, menace.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that. “They barely know me. Even Aria I’ve only talked to a couple times.”

“They love you,” he repeated, this time looking over so she could see the truth shining in his eyes, “because you’re mine.”

It was all she could do not to whimper when he lifted their joined hands to his lips, the barest whisper of a kiss brushing over her knuckles.

By then, they’d made it to the top of Killian’s driveway. He gave her hand another kiss and a squeeze before releasing her to put the car in park and climb out. Knee jiggling wildly, she waited for him to come and open her door.

Hand in hand once again, he led her up the stairs to the stately double wooden doors. “Holy fuck, this place is huge.”

Brody grinned. “Grand, isn’t it? Been in our family for generations now. Killian’s father passed it on to him and Killian will pass it to his children.”

Curiosity, which was sure to be her ultimate downfall, pricked at her. “Do you ever resent it? Killian being the chosen one, I mean.”

“Fuck no,” Brody said with a snort of laughter. “For starters, I don’t have the temperament for it. But also…”

He trailed off, as if realizing he was saying too much, which she tried not to take personally. But seriously, he’d had his fingers in her ass not an hour ago. Surely he could spare her some insight into his innermost thoughts.

It seemed like the least he could do.

“Also, what?”

Brody’s gaze flicked her way, a silent assessment before he continued. “It’s a lot of responsibility. And while I’m happy to help carry it, I am also very happy to not be shouldering the majority of it. Heavy is the crown and all that.”

She wanted to dive deeper into that, but they were cut off by the front door swinging open, the light from the house spilling out to frame a woman’s voluptuous form. “Cousin! You’re late. The others are already here.”

“We aren’t late, brat.” Pausing at the door, Brody leaned in to press an affectionate kiss to Reagan’s cheek. “It’s not our fault everyone got here early because they knew I was bringing a girl over.”

The nerves Goldie had been trying to pretend didn’t exist suddenly all fired at once, and she had to swallow hard to avoid being sick all over Reagan’s very expensive looking clothes. “Hi, Reagan,” she somehow managed to say.

In response, Reagan simply looked at her, dark eyes sweeping over Goldie. “Hello, Marigold. It’s nice to properly meet you when you aren’t being held hostage by our mortal enemies.”

Shame heated Goldie’s cheeks, and she had to fight the urge to drop her gaze to the ground. “I’m, ah, really sorry about that.”

“Please.” With a wave of her hand and roll of her eyes, Reagan batted away Goldie’s apologies. “We wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves if someone wasn’t getting kidnapped or shot—often both—at least once a week.”

“She’s exaggerating,” Brody assured Goldie when her shocked gaze snapped to his. But then he glanced over, meeting his cousin’s eye, and he smirked. “I guarantee it’s no more than once a month.”

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” Goldie muttered as she let herself be pulled along behind him into the cavernous house.

“Don’t worry, menace.” Voice dropping to a low purr, Brody leaned in, his breath hot on her cheek. Releasing her hand, he patted her ass, reminding her very firmly of the plug nestled between her cheeks. “Daddy’s right here.”

She had to bite her lip to keep a whimper from slipping out. But, to her aggravation, his words did actually calm the churning of her stomach.

What did that say about her? How deep was she, emotionally, that just the sound of his voice could ease her anxiety?

And how the hell was she supposed to live without that, without him once this was all over?

It seemed both a blessing and a curse that she didn’t have long to ponder those questions before they stepped into the largest dining room Goldie had ever laid eyes on. A large wooden table that was very likely an antique stretched nearly from one end of the room to the other. Killian was, as expected, seated at the head with Aria to his right. Beside Aria sat the twins she’d met earlier that day, identical but for the scar one of them bore over his eye.

Opposite the twins sat one of the men she’d seen the night she’d staked out Killian’s house. She’d learned from her research that all of the previous generation had been slaughtered in a hit over ten years ago, so probably not an uncle. An older cousin, perhaps, given the amount of salt in his salt-and-pepper hair.

“Everyone, meet Goldie.” Placing a proprietary hand at the small of her back, Brody gestured around the table. “I believe you know everyone but Murphy. He’s the one who looks old enough to be our dad.”

It was the chair next to his that Brody pulled out for her. Doing her best to pretend like her nervous system wasn’t currently in Red Alert status, she settled into the seat and flashed everyone a smile. “Hello.”