She let herself into the room, searching for the light switch against the wall before flipping it on, revealing the dust-covered furniture that lay inside.
Tarps covered two chaises, and a grand piano parked against the back wall had a stack of portraits leaned against it.
She had only just kneeled to inspect them when she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps before she could all but feel Uilleam’s presence behind her.
Surprisingly, he didn’t seem all that bothered by the fact he had caught her snooping through his things.
“Who is this?” she asked, stopping beside the stack of portraits partially tucked beneath a canvas.
Dust covered the frames and a few spider webs made her hesitate in reaching for them, but she thought better of being afraid and picked them up anyway—though she was quick to brush the webs away lest a spider was waiting.
Next, she brushed the bit of dirt covering the front away until she could get a clearer image of the girl depicted within it.
Kit’s dark hair and Uilleam’s amber eyes.
Once, she vaguely remembered hearing him mention siblings, but she’d always thought it had been a mistake on his part or she’d misheard him.
But now that she was staring at the picture, it was quite obvious that Uilleam and Kit weren’t the only two Runehart children.
“Elsie,” Uilleam said from behind her, coming in close to her back. “Quintessential middle child.”
She looked back at the painting and the detail within it. How the artist had seemed to spend a significant amount of time detailing the shape of her eyes and the pendant she wore at the hollow of her throat.
And unlike the other paintings she had seen, Elsie looked significantly younger than everyone else. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen at the time this was painted.
Which would make it older than the others ...
“You don’t talk about your sister a lot.”
As he moved to her side, the expression on his face made her thoughtful. It almost felt as if he were seeing it for the first time from the way his gaze traveled over the length of it, a small smile curling his lips at the corners.
“She was always kept separate from us. The farthest spire on the other side of the castle was her room. I’d always thought it was because Alexander didn’t want her to see the way he inflicted his lessons, but I’m not so sure now.”
There was much he wasn’t telling her, but she accepted it all the same.
The quiet moments with him were her favorite.
When they sat together lost in whatever topic came to mind first. It was always an enjoyable experience to pick his brain and learn how he viewed things. Oftentimes, it was so very different from her own opinion.
He was a welcome distraction from the turn her life had taken, and until she figured everything out, she was going to enjoy it.
But despite their dinner together, and the ensuing conversation, she’d found that Uilleam’s mood continued to worsen even as hers improved.
It was this place if she had to wager a guess. Whatever hold it still had on him chipped away at his exterior until only something sullen remained.
His mood had rapidly deteriorated over dinner, and by the time she rejoined him downstairs, he was already there with a drink in his hands, staring out at the flames currently licking at the black gate that framed them.
But even as he’d first appeared to ignore her entirely, she felt his gaze shift to her before she met his gaze.
For one delightful, alarming moment, Karina felt as if she had walked into a trap—that somehow, the hunter had come out to play, and she was just the game he was hoping to take down.
Uilleam finished his drink, the muscles in his throat working as he swallowed before he set the glass away and gave her his undivided attention.
Only then did she reach for the tied ribbons around her waist and tug at the ends, letting the silk robe she wore fall open and off her shoulders to pool at her feet.
His brow arched as he watched her across the room, his expression becoming harder to read the closer she came.
But she was almost sure she could tell where his thoughts had gone from the way his gaze dropped down her front, lingering on the bits of skin still exposed by the nightie she wore.
“This is usually the moment when you say something clever,” she said thoughtfully, wanting to break the silence.
His chair wasn’t like the fabric one she’d had in her old apartment before moving in with Uilleam or even like the white leather ones that populated Ashworth Hall.
It was massive, with curved arms and ornate woodwork, complete with lush velvet detailing.
It was nothing short of a throne.
And from the way he sat, his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms resting casually with that glass in hand …
Was this what it felt like to service a king?
“Have you come to offer me a present?” he asked in a far too calm way that made her distinctly aware of just how little she was wearing.
“You’ve spent more than a week trying to cheer me up. It only seems fair if I do the same for you.”
He liked that idea. She could see it all over his face and by the way he tossed back the last of his drink before setting the glass down on the table with a touch too much force.
“Come to me,” he said, but as she moved to take a step forward, he gave her a challenging smile before he shook his head. “On your knees.”
She could have easily refused—Uilleam had never forced her to do anything she didn’t want—but something akin to sharp anticipation shot through her, and even knowing the position it put her in, she still sank to the floor.
With a shudder in her breath, she crawled toward him, feminine satisfaction strumming through her as she caught the way his gaze lingered on her hips and the way his hands briefly tightened into fists.
But it wasn’t until she was right there kneeling between his knees that he finally reached out, brushing his fingers along her collarbone and tracing it around to her shoulder, leaving goose bumps in his wake.
Only when he had the strap of her nightie wrapped around his finger did he finally speak. “What is it that you want to ask me?”
“Hmm?”
“Feed your curiosity,” he told her as he dragged that strap down over her shoulder, “while you can.”
“If you hate it here so much, why do you come back?”
He moved to the other strap. “It’s what’s familiar. In a way, this place is ... grounding.”
When the satin wouldn’t move as quickly as he’d like, Uilleam leaned forward and fisted the material right at the lace neckline and ripped it right down the middle.
She shivered, even as it hadn’t harmed her in any way, but he could oftentimes be so gentle with her that she forgot the strength he possessed.
“But it hurts you, doesn’t it?” she asked, resting her hands on his knees. “Why do you hold on to something so tightly that only causes you pain?”
He let the scrap of ruined material fall from his hand before he lifted it to curve around her cheek. He stroked his thumb there, brushing over the curve of her jaw before he had her hair wrapped around his fist.
He gave it a tug, forcing her head back so that she had no choice but to look at him. “Sometimes a little pain is good for you.”
His mouth connected with hers, slowly at first—just a gentle press of his lips before his tongue swept into her mouth, and she tasted the bite of vodka.
It was far too easy to get drunk off him—to give herself over to the need that made her come alive whenever he touched her.
She peeled his belt open, anticipation thrumming through her as she glimpsed the hard line his erection made beneath the fabric of his trousers.
She watched, helpless and hungry, as he worked his cock with his fist. A rapid descent—a slow, languid glide back up. She was transfixed by the action until she found herself reaching to replace his hand, mimicking his move
ments.
At least until he drew her forward to replace his hand with her mouth.
His hand gripped tighter in her hair even as his thighs flexed, his cock surging deeper into her mouth momentarily.
But even squeezing her own thighs together didn’t help when he let out that hoarse groan that ignited every nerve inside her body.
So much satisfaction came at the thought that she was the one who had him like this—in this restless state. His hunger for her making him a little less careful.
He grew more demanding.
Forceful.
He didn’t think about the bruises he would leave behind. He no longer thought she was made of glass.
At these moments, she found she loved him the most.
And right as she thought she would make him come like this, he pulled free of her mouth and jerked her up and around.
She braced her hands on the arms of the chair as his hands palmed her hips, holding her steady.
No matter how complex the problem was, there was nothing that couldn’t be soothed when they were together.
And oh, did she love it when he worked out the worst of his feelings through her.
When that last shred of decency was stripped away, and he fucked her like it was the last time.
He held her still as he guided his length to the opening of her sex. The orgasm he had given her made everything slippery.
His hand circled her throat as he eased into her, her eyes squeezing shut as she tightened around him.
He ruined her far too easily.
Now.
They all sat at the round table, and for the first time, Karina realized it wasn’t just the three of them anymore—there was someone else with a voice and opinions—someone who made it abundantly clear they had no intentions of sinking into the background and letting them run things as they saw fit.
“D’you have a wife, Elias?” Isla asked, her tone curious, though her expression was anything but.
It was a carefully laid trap for anyone foolish enough to play into her games. Karina hadn’t understood before why Isla liked to push people’s boundaries and pry where she shouldn’t, but she was willing to give Elias an exception.
Elias blinked as if he were surprised either of them had spoken to him by their own volition. “No, I don’t.”
“Children?”
“A son.”
Interesting. “How old is he?” Karina asked, her heart pinching a little.
Some small, hopeless part of her expected him to be a toddler, perhaps a little older. A little human with innocent eyes and brown hair.
“I’m not entirely sure.”
Karina blinked, not expecting that answer in the slightest.
And worse, Elias didn’t seem particularly bothered by the fact that he didn’t know how old his own son was.
Isla was the first to speak. “Ah, a bastard then. I’ve always been rather fond of them.”
“Is that why you keep one as your pet?” Elias asked, his gaze briefly drifting in her direction.
If he thought that would make her react, he didn’t know Isla very well. She smiled as friendly as ever. “I invite you to tell him that. It would certainly make my day.”
“We are the company we keep,” Elias returned, ignoring that remark completely. “I understand a woman of your … standing can’t be particularly discerning about the male attention she attracts.”
Something in the echoes of his words made Karina sit up a little straighter as she noticed the nearly imperceptible shift in Isla’s demeanor.
It was all worded so carefully—a considerate effort to make sure only Isla knew what he was really saying.
But even as she didn’t quite understand what he was saying, she could infer well enough that whatever it was, it had certainly been an insult.
“Is there a reason you requested we all meet here?” Karina asked in a bid to change the subject, though the man’s words echoed in her ears.
She wouldn’t forget them, nor what he implied. Not ever.
“According to permits filed,” Elias said after a moment of silence, “the Runehart family has decided to donate a painting that’s been in the family for generations for the upcoming fall season.”
“Which one?” Karina asked, thinking of all the ones she had seen back at the estate the one time she’d been there.
Elias made a soft tutting sound beneath his breath.
For the moment, Karina would indulge him. “Problem?”
“I think it’s abundantly clear that the Runehart family is outstandingly wealthy, and it stands to reason that no matter what painting is offered, it would be certainly worth a lot of money.”
“Sure,” Karina agreed. “But is the objective to steal something he doesn’t care about? Certainly, you should see the flaw in that logic. He would write it off as a loss and not think twice about it.”
“And if it’s one that’s significant to him?”
“Then we use that against him.”
Because if they wanted his attention, they needed to start gradually. Doing too much too soon would merely show their hands, and that was the last thing they wanted to do at the very beginning.
When you started a game of chess, you didn’t start with the kings. You took out their army first.
“Men like him respect action.”
“Do you know why he prefers to do business on Thursdays? It’s such an obscure reason, but from the arrogance in your tone, I’m assuming you do. No?” she asked when he didn’t respond. “Then by all means, please continue to lecture me about men like him because you should know there’s no man like Uilleam Runehart.”
His eyes were hard as they landed on her. “It’s merely the fundamental difference between us. You mean to play with your prey. I’d simply like to get rid of the problem entirely as quickly as possible.”
“The answer to every problem isn’t murder.”
That only created more of them—or did he not understand why they were all here in the first place.
“And what would you have us do?” Elias asked, not bothering to hide his condescension.
“Killing him is easy. Ruining everything he’s built takes actual skill.”
Elias laughed long and loud. “And are you supposed to accomplish this feat when no one has ever come close to touching that family?”
“I’d already accomplished the unthinkable,” she reminded him. “I had his heart.”
“What difference does—?”
“It makes all the difference in the world,” she said before he could finish. “If you can’t see that, it’s a miracle you’ve made it this far.”
“Must you fight constantly?” Katherine remarked as she sauntered into the room, not missing a step despite her six-inch heels.
“As long as he insists on opening his mouth,” Karina said, her gaze on the man in question.
There had to be things about him she didn’t know that made him worthy of being here, but she didn’t like what she knew about him. So what could Katherine possibly see in him?
“Isla, would you be a dear and see if the chef has finished preparing lunch?”
Though she was pretty sure that was the last thing her sister wanted to do, it still gave her an excuse to leave without comment.
She waited until Isla had gone, giving her several more seconds to make it down the hallway before she began.
Her sister had always prided herself on being able to handle her own. She couldn’t afford to be a victim, she would say, and she would certainly never let a man turn her into one.
But she could also see that what Elias had said bothered her, even if she was unwilling to admit it.
“I’d like to speak with you alone.”
Elias looked affronted as if he couldn’t understand why Karina wouldn’t want him in the room. He didn’t realize that she didn’t even want him to exist.
“If we’re to work together, I think it’s prudent I hear what she has to say,” Elias said, completely d
isregarding Karina entirely.
“Word of caution,” Karina said before her mother could speak. “If we’re to work together, there are two things you should know. You don’t ever disrespect anyone I care for, and second, you don’t ever betray me.”
Both Elias and Katherine looked at her then—one with mild displeasure, the other with some semblance of pride.
“A moment, Elias. I’ll call for you when I’m ready,” Katherine said, managing not to make the words sound dismissive.
“I don’t understand what you see in him,” Karina said once he was out of the room, the palm of her hand resting flat on the table top.
“The same things you saw in Uilleam, I’d imagine,” came her answer a moment later.
“He isn’t at all—”
“Isn’t he? Uilleam Runehart takes after his father. There’s the abundance of charm and handsome features, but when you wipe away the veneer, what’s left? A man willing to do anything to achieve his goals.”
Karina shook her head. “It’s different.”
Katherine’s brow arched. “Are you quite sure?”
Nothing would convince her otherwise. “Meaning, I’m stuck working with him.”
“Use him in whatever capacity you see fit, but you will need to use him. He’s here to keep the attention off the family.”
Karina knew, no matter how much she argued, that her mother wouldn’t be changing her mind on the matter. Giving up, she stood, turning to leave when Katherine’s voice gave her pause.
“I’ll be requiring his services in the coming days.”
“Why do I need to know anything about Elias?”
“Not him. Your latest acquisition—Jackal, as you’re calling him.”
“No, absolutely not.”
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. It was the wrong thing to say, considering the expression on her mother’s face as she stepped away from the table.
“Pardon?”
“I didn’t free him just so—”
“Bought,” Katherine corrected. “I wouldn’t want you to confuse the two.”
Black Swan Page 19
