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“Ms. Kingston,” he drones my maiden name.
Ahh, like the rest of the world, Wells doesn’t exist in his.
“Good evening, Bernard.”
He sighs, charmed and conflicted. “What can I do for you? Miss Rena will not—”
“I’m not here to see her.” Hoping I will but won’t hold my breath.
“Oh?” he muses, intrigued. “Then, how may I assist you?”
“I’d like to see Ryker,” I state firmly.
He balks, plainly annoyed that I’ve deigned to request Noire royalty. “Ms. Kingston, the Noire family is otherwise engaged.”
A sardonic smirk tips my lips, matching his self-righteous indignation. This might be the Noire kingdom, but I have the crown jewel. “Tell him I have Montgomery intel.”
His eyes widen, and without another word, he reaches for the house phone. “Master Ryker, you have a guest. No. Female, sir.” He muffles his voice with his hand, but I catch his mutterings anyway. “Ms. Ivanna Kingston … Montgomery tip.” With that, he clicks the receiver and regards me. “Master Ryker will be here momentarily.”
While his harsh expression mellows, he doesn’t engage in idle small talk. He guards me. Like I’m an assassin infiltrating La Lune Noire.
Ryker steps off the elevator moments later, wooden and icy. Disdain marring his chiseled features. His eyes meet mine, and he flicks his wrist for me to follow.
He doesn’t speak in the elevator, and neither do I. He wants totake me to his suite so I feel trapped and he can fuck with me. I already anticipated that, so his this-is-your-last-mealenergy doesn’t faze me.
We flounce into the penthouse, impatience marking his hasty stride. The door closes behind me with an ominous click of the lock. A warning.
He brooks no niceties. “The fuck are you doing here?”
I considered asking for Axel. He’s just as deranged and threatening, but he plasters on a prettier facade. Ryker makes no apologies for his ruthless demeanor, which is admittedly intimidating, but also the reason I requested him. He’s easier to read.
Unwilling to let his sadistic nature torpedo me, I fix a straight-lipped grin and get to the point. “I have something you want, but I need something in return.”
He scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets, his eyes swirling with a thirst for death and blood and revenge. I can work with that.
He leans in close, expecting me to retreat, but I steel my spine as he attempts to lance me with his gritty rebuke. “I don’t make trades,darling, and I doubt you haveanythingI want.”
“Actually, I possess whatyouwant most in this world. The shovel to bury Montgomery, but …” I bite my lip with a never-mind shrug. “If you’re not interested, forget it.”
His palm slams against the door behind me, thrusting me against it in the process. “If you’re fucking with me, I won’t think twice about killing you.”
“That’s fair,” I chirp, appeasing the psychopath and ducking under his arm. “I’m not fucking with you, but to be clear, if I don’t check in after this, my contact has been informed to alert Wells that I was meeting with you and didn’t make it out. And since he has Mercy, well, you can bridge that.”
I pick at my nails as if I’m bored while he growls. This guy. As if I didn’t live with four snarling, overweening men drunk on power.
Not even breaking a sweat, jackass.
He crosses the room, halting at a hallway with a scowl. “Come,” he orders.
I follow like an obedient pet—with canine teeth capable of gnawing through his carotid artery if need be. We enter a huge conference room, a massive oval table in the center and two desks on either end.
He pours two glasses of whiskey, slamming mine down on the table. “Start fucking talking.”
So hospitable.
I stride to the table but remain standing with a stony gaze on him until he sits, and I join him. “About a month ago, a memory surfaced of a conversation I’d overheard regarding yourinterests.”
He swigs his drink. “And why the fuck do you know anything about my interests? Playing all of us with that AirPods, reading ruse,sweetheart?”
