White Rabbit: The Rise (The Kingmaker Saga Book 1)

by London Miller

“I’m not going to last,” he said, sounding pained even as his thrusts kicked up a notch.

  And God, God, he was really fucking her now.

  So hard it should have been painful.

  But it wasn’t.

  It was everything she had ever dreamed of.

  And when he came moments later after three punishing strokes, she realized she could, in fact, come three times in one night.

  25

  Pretty Woman

  Karina came awake slowly, squinting her eyes against the sunlight streaming in through the parted curtains.

  She knew even before she reached out and felt the sheets that Uilleam wasn’t beside her. And judging from the coolness of them, he hadn’t been there for quite some time. She vaguely remembered the squeeze of his arm around her waist before his touch disappeared entirely, but the pull of sleep had been too great to ignore.

  Drawing in a breath as she arched her back and stretched her arms up above her head, she slipped out of bed, heading for the bathroom.

  Even if she could ignore the ache in her thighs where his hands had gripped her or the other, more delicious discomfort, there was no ignoring the trail of clothes on the floor that led up to the bed.

  It was impossible not to think of last night.

  About Hush and everything that had happened down in that darkened room.

  About what had come later once they were truly alone and Uilleam had given her his undivided attention.

  The thought was enough to make her breathless all over again. Making nerve endings flare to life again in remembrance.

  It was a night she would never forget for as long as she lived.

  A part of her was almost afraid that he had ruined her for other men. That if there was ever someone after him, she would have to compare the two, and with the way she felt currently, no one could compete with him.

  Finished on the toilet, she scrubbed her face clean, getting rid of last night’s makeup before she smoothed on moisturizer. Then she donned the white silk robe hanging from a hook in the bathroom, knotting the tie before going in search of Uilleam.

  She didn’t care that she wasn’t the image of grace for once. Her hair could benefit from a comb as opposed to the messy bun she had thrown it up in, and Katherine had always taught her that a no-makeup look still involved a bit of foundation and mascara.

  But looking presentable was the last thing on her mind at the moment. If there was ever a physical description of what one looked like after having sex all night—she was it.

  The warm, fragrant aroma of freshly baked pastries drew her out to the balcony where breakfast was displayed on an ornate, rather large table that took up nearly the entire width of the balcony.

  Sitting at the table with a newspaper in his hands and his phone resting silently beside him was Uilleam. She was fully anticipating his immaculate appearance, but instead she found him in a pair of gray sleep pants that hung low enough she could see the sharp indentations at his waist, the V tapering down and making her wish he hadn’t bothered to put on pants at all.

  Even his hair was a bit unkempt, the strands messy and hanging over his forehead as if he had been running his fingers through it incessantly.

  “It really isn’t fair that you look like this so early in the morning.”

  Even when he wasn’t at his best, he was still leagues beyond the rest.

  His answering smile was playful and mischievous as he tossed the paper down to look back at her. “Good morning, poppet.”

  He offered his hand, and she didn’t think twice before accepting it, allowing him to pull her toward him. Her body didn’t seem to care that she was still a little tired and definitely a little sore because the moment she was within mere feet of him, it felt as if her entire body lit up.

  This, she imagined, was what it was like to want someone.

  To feel alive in their presence and never want the sensation to end.

  The butterflies had metamorphosed into something else.

  He gave her something she thought she’d already had.

  Excitement.

  “You’re up early,” she commented thoughtfully even as she got more comfortable on his lap.

  “My work is never done,” he answered simply, seeming content to just watch her.

  Even if that were true—and she suspected it was, considering who he was, what he did, and whom he did it for—it was still only eight here, which would mean it was three in the morning back in New York.

  She didn’t even know why she was up.

  “What do you have planned for today?” she asked, plucking a strawberry from the tray and biting into it.

  “You,” he said.

  “Me?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  She smiled despite herself. She loved surprises. “What kind of surprise?”

  “One you’ll get to see as soon as you’re ready to leave.”

  He didn’t have to say another word before she was hopping up and off to find something to wear, his laughter echoing behind her.

  “Shopping, Uilleam?” she asked, looking back at him. “I’ve always wanted to have a Pretty Woman moment.”

  It was impossible not to see the amusement curling the left side of his mouth. He didn’t respond to her remark, but rather, he opened the door and gestured for her to go in ahead of him.

  Back in New York, the nicest boutique she had ever entered was the one Isla had sent her to when she’d been looking for a dress for the fundraiser, but even that paled in comparison to wherever she was now.

  The floors were white marble with thin gray lines throughout. A crystal chandelier hung over a mirrored table that beautifully reflected the golden rays of sunlight spilling into the store.

  A woman of indiscriminate age, wearing a black dress, towering heels, and dark red lipstick stepped out from around the corner, greeting them with a smile and an extension of her hand.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Runehart, we’ve been expecting you.”

  Hearing her say that name sent a weird pang through her, the feeling strange but not entirely unwelcome. While she slid her sunglasses off her face and peeked over at Uilleam, but he didn’t bother correcting the woman’s assumption.

  “Madeline, nice to see you again.”

  Karina didn’t get a chance to ask if the two knew each other before the woman was looking her over with an appreciative eye. “Mr. Runehart has told me so much about you ahead of our fitting today.”

  “Has he?” she asked, genuinely curious, considering this was all a surprise to her.

  “All nice things, I promise.”

  They followed her into a separate room, this one only accessed by a pair of opaque frosted glass doors. A long, tufted bench sat across from a trio of mirrors, all providing different angles from one another, and just off to the right was a high wingback chair in the same dark gray fabric as the bench.

  “If you’ll give us a moment, Mr. Runehart,” Madeline said with a gesture of her hand for him to stay put, “we’ll be back with the first selection.”

  Karina wasn’t sure what to expect as she followed the woman into a back dressing room, changing into a robe as she waited for the other woman to come back.

  It was almost surreal being here with him—living a life she had never expected. If her mother had told her over a year after she had left home for the first time, she would be in Paris with a man like Uilleam, she wouldn’t have believed it was possible.

  Not like this.

  It wasn’t long before Madeline was back, pulling a rack of dresses and other assorted clothing behind her.

  The white dress hanging at the very end was calling her name—or perhaps it was because Madeline casually mentioned that it had been Uilleam’s favorite—and she didn’t hesitate before plucking it from the row and quickly stepping into it.

  She didn’t bother looking at her reflection first before she left the dressing room to go and find Uilleam. She was more curious about his reaction. All too quickly, she remem
bered the night of the fundraiser and the appreciative look he’d given her.

  She wanted to see that expression again.

  “You still haven’t told me what, exactly, you need from this Gaspard man,” she said, remembering the name from the night before.

  He had been rather quiet on the ride here despite how warm he had been over breakfast. Maybe he’d known she would have questions for him that he wouldn’t necessarily want to answer.

  He looked to be contemplating what he wanted to say—or perhaps deciding whether he would answer her question at all—before he finally spoke. “In the simplest terms, he’s the key to me getting a seat at the table.”

  Karina stayed silent a moment, processing that. She had never imagined any real structure to the way criminal organizations worked. Mostly, she hadn’t thought beyond mafias or gangs where there was a boss and all the people under them.

  She had always assumed that men like Uilleam were only out for themselves—that they didn’t work with anyone else.

  She certainly hadn’t expected some sort of commission behind the scenes.

  Karina stepped off the podium, crossing the floor until she was standing mere feet away from him. “What kind of table, exactly?”

  He sifted his fingers through his hair, his gaze steady on hers. “Can I trust you?”

  “I haven’t given you a reason not to,” she countered, the words coming far too easily though they weren’t entirely true.

  He thought he knew her and what she did—he thought he knew everything.

  He knew nothing.

  “They call themselves the Coalition,” he explained, his voice loud enough for her to hear, but soft enough that no one would be able to overhear their conversation.

  She had seen him, on so many occasions, talk candidly about everything, yet when he spoke of this Coalition, his entire demeanor changed.

  “The seven most powerful men in the world.”

  Her brows knitted together. “Like presidents?”

  “Men who value their anonymity as much as they value their bank accounts.”

  Interesting.

  And not just because she had never heard of them—though she was sure, if she were to ask Isla, she wouldn’t have heard of the Coalition either.

  She was more interested in the fact that Uilleam wanted to join their ranks.

  “What do you have to do to become a part of it?”

  “That’s an answer I won’t part with.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Why not?”

  “The less you know, the better it is for the both of us. I can’t afford any harm coming to you because of secrets I was better off keeping.” His expression softened as he spoke but still had an edge to it that made her breath catch. “I don’t know what I would do if someone harmed you.”

  She thought of the lengths he had been willing to go just to have her attention. The way he had repeatedly shown up at her apartment, or the way he had Orion thrown in jail just because he thought there might have been feelings there.

  She should have been worried about those lengths.

  Not to mention, the reason they had ultimately crossed paths in the first place.

  Uilleam was a villain in every sense of the word. He did deplorable things for his own gain and cared very little about who he crossed to see it done.

  Yet she was still drawn to him.

  That powerful, relentless pull was too much to ignore.

  And what must that say about her, that she was willing to accept the worst bits of him without any promise that he would change.

  Why did it make her feel a little flutter in her chest at the mention of what he might do should any harm come to her?

  “You can keep your secrets,” she found herself saying, “but only for now.”

  Only until she figured out what this was between them, and whether she actually wanted it.

  “You’re resourceful,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I imagine you’ll learn plenty during our time here.”

  He could certainly bet his life on that.

  His phone chimed, the sound wiping her smile away. Despite how little time they had spent together, she knew what it meant when his phone rang.

  Business was calling again.

  “I have a meeting.” He looked from his phone, then back to her, and mixed in that eagerness was genuine disappointment that he was leaving her.

  She couldn’t be mad seeing that. “Go on then. I wanted to explore the city anyway.”

  He kissed her hard and fast before slipping something into her hand. Then he was gone without a backward glance.

  Looking down, she saw a black card gleaming and looking entirely too tempting.

  A little shopping couldn’t hurt.

  26

  Gaspard

  At five in the morning, Uilleam found himself tracing the freckles on Karina’s back with his gaze, wondering whether the pattern he was noticing was an actual constellation, or if it was his mind trying to attach meaning where there wasn’t any.

  He found he couldn’t help himself.

  Fascinated was not a strong enough word to describe the way he felt. He didn’t care that he had had plenty of time to explore in the hours after he had returned from a business meeting and found her waiting for him with a coy little smile and a gleam in her beautiful eyes.

  He had forgotten everything other than her as he’d carried her upstairs and sated himself with her.

  The first time, he had been gentle with her, knowing she would be sore from the night before. He’d had to close his eyes against the sensation—ignore the way her pussy clenched around his cock while he was fucking her. His only goal had been to make it good for her.

  But the second … his only concern was just how quickly he could get them both off.

  Now, despite how early he had risen the morning before and the few hours of sleep he had been gotten after exhausting himself with her, he was awake again.

  Because as much as he wanted to remain right where he was, this trip to Paris wasn’t just about being with her—he had come here for a reason.

  And that reason had agreed to meet in just a couple of hours.

  This was arguably the most important day of his life. No … that wasn’t quite right.

  This was next to the most important day, second only to when he was officially accepted into the Coalition.

  When he finally surpassed his father’s legacy.

  It was no great mystery to anyone who knew him that he’d loathed his father and everything he’d stood for as long as he could remember.

  The day he’d finally been put in the ground couldn’t have come soon enough, and though he’d raised him all his life, Uilleam hadn’t shed a single tear for the man.

  If anything, he had felt relief—peace, for the first time—because his presence on earth would no longer plague him.

  But Alexander hadn’t gone quietly, even as his death had been short but painful.

  No, days before he had succumbed to the horrors he’d unleashed on others—when he’d beaten Uilleam to within an inch of his life—he had made it abundantly clear what he thought of him and what he was capable of …

  “Weak!” Alexander shouted, kicking Uilleam in the stomach, making him curl into himself as he tried to protect his vital organs.

  Not that it was doing him much good. He didn’t feel … right. And if he had to guess, even in his delirium as pain radiated throughout his body, there were a number of bones broken and if he sustained any more damage, he doubted he would walk away from this encounter still breathing.

  “Just like that brother of yours. Weak! You’re no fucking son of mine.”

  He punctuated the remark with another kick, this time using the toe of his boot to flip him over onto his back, the task made all the more easy because Uilleam hardly had the strength to protect himself, let alone resist him.

  Dragging in a rattling breath that hurt every single one of his ribs, Uilleam coughed a
nd sputtered, blood spraying from his mouth, droplets spattering the marble floor beneath him.

  Through one half-swollen eye, he stared up at the man who had never felt much like a father though they shared so many features.

  He didn’t see love and compassion in Alexander’s eyes—emotions he had always suspected a father should have felt for his son. Instead, he found an emptiness that had stopped being alarming years ago.

  And nestled among that nothingness was something else. Something that Uilleam hadn’t seen aimed in his direction since Kit had left in the middle of the night with their uncle, never to return.

  Hatred.

  “You’ll never be anything more than what you are right now,” he said as he crouched. “Dirt beneath my fucking shoe.”

  He shook his head as if he were disappointed.

  As if the mere sight of Uilleam made his stomach turn in disgust.

  He could have gone his entire life without seeing that expression on his face.

  The next punch took him by surprise, whipping his head to the side, splitting his cheek open where it sliced across his teeth. He actually saw stars moments before black dots winked in and out of his vision.

  He was going to die here.

  At the hands of his father on a marble floor that he’d walked along for more than half of his life.

  But he wasn’t the praying sort.

  Nor would he beg.

  If anything, that would only prompt Alexander to make this hurt worse.

  Instead, despite all odds, he laughed.

  It sounded strangled, even to his own ears, and he could even feel the blood spilling down his lips as he grinned, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

  Not when he was dying.

  And God was he ready for this hell to be over.

  “You’ll rue this day.”

  Alexander’s boisterous laughter mirrored his own—disbelieving and mocking.

  But Uilleam didn’t care, not when the world around him was growing dark around the edges.

  Alexander shook his head, even as he stood and rolled his bloodstained sleeves up. “I regret nothing.”