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A woman who doesn’t back down.
A woman who speaks up for herself.
A woman who’s as brave as she is mighty.
A woman with ovaries of steel who can kick all the ass in the world.
A woman with the skills her Kings taught her.
A woman who always had power within her but needed her Kings to hold up a mirror to her inner Queen.
I’m heading out of Nate’s room when my eyes flash under his bed.
All at once, the memory I suppressed comes roaring back.
It happened ten years ago.
I entered Nate’s room when I shouldn’t have. There was something under his bed wrapped in plastic. He shot me a fierce look and I ran.
My heart hammers with anxiety. I take deep breaths to calm myself. What was under his bed? Now that I’m thinking more clearly, the object shrouded in plastic was specked with crimson. I don't recall smelling anything, but it looked like it was wrapped too well for a smell to emanate from it.
A smirk forms on Nate’s face. "Tell me why you’re looking under my fucking bed, stepsis."
"I’m trying to find a trace of the monster who took my stepbrother."
TWENTY-FIVE
ROOK
"Do you think these are good enough?"
I gesture to the display of flowers set up around Olivia’s bed. Red roses, peonies, lilies, and bursts of marigolds surround her luxurious mattress. Her bedstead is blooming with as many flowers as a meadow. A gentle breeze drifts through the open penthouse window, spreading the scent of the beauties through my nostrils.
Brock crooks a smirk. "Of course."
"I’m worried we should’ve bought pink roses." I gnaw my cheek, shooting a glare at the petals. "We’ve gotten her so many red ones. Pink would be a nice change."
Brock’s eyes roll back. "She’s a girl. She’ll like any flowers that we buy her."
I roar, charging toward him and securing him in a headlock. "Take back your sexist comment."
Brock roars, pushing me away. "It’s not sexist if it’s the truth."
I think about my sweet little Olive who’ll come back any minute from her appointment at the hairdresser. I wanted the hairdresser to come here, but no amount of money makes the top hairdresser to the rich and famous in Manhattan offer an in-home appointment. I can’t wait to see what she does to Olivia’s wavy auburn hair.
Olivia comes through the door a moment later. "Hey, Apricot. Come to Mama." She freezes after she picks up Apricot. "Why do I smell… flowers?"
Brock and I share a knowing smirk. We throw open the bedroom door, showing her everything.
"There you are, beautiful." Wrapping my arm around her waist, I tug her close to my seven-foot frame. "We’ve waited far too long for you."
Her petite body crushes against mine, and I groan as my cock hardens. Fuck, she feels amazing. So perfect and snug in the pocket of my hips.
"Your hair." Brock is speechless as he runs his finger through it. "Damn, baby girl. You finna make me act up."
Olivia bats her eyelashes, threading her fingers through Brock’s. "I hope you like it. I told the hairdresser I wanted to look fabulous for my men. At first I thought she was judging me because I’m with three of you. Then, I realized that I had an attitude problem and calmed down."
I bury my nose in the crook hot her neck. A burst of berry scent washes into my nostrils, filling me with need. "I’ll fuck that attitude problem right out of you."
