The Scotch Royals: Book Three

by Penelope Sky

  The Scotch Royals

  Book Three

  Penelope Sky

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher or author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  * * *

  Hartwick Publishing

  The Scotch Royals

  Copyright © 2017 by Penelope Sky

  All Rights Reserved

  1

  Crewe

  Ariel walked inside my office without knocking, a leather-bound notebook wrapped up in her arms. Her black frames sat on the edge of her nose where they always were since she preferred not to wear contacts. “Got a minute?”

  I grabbed the scotch sitting on my desk and drained it in one swallow. “I suppose.”

  She sat down and crossed her legs before she opened the notebook. She scanned her notes, her head bent and her glasses threatening to slide off her nose. “How’s your chest?”

  Painful. Annoying. Weak. Take your pick. “Fine.” It’d been a month since Joseph shot me. I was still going to physical therapy three times a week, trying to rebuild the muscle of my left pectoral. I couldn’t use my left arm the way I used to, but once I got my strength back, everything would return to normal.

  She didn’t look at the nearly empty bottle of scotch sitting on my desk. “You know you aren’t supposed to drink while you’re on narcotics.”

  Like I gave a damn. “I’ll be fine. What do you want?”

  Her eyes narrowed at the way I snapped at her.

  I was still in a lot of physical pain, and my mood had turned darker than a winter storm. Now I was constantly angry, wanting to punch any solid piece of furniture I came into contact with. But Ariel was the last person in the world who deserved my wrath. She was one of the few people who was truly loyal to me.

  No one else was.

  Especially that stupid fucking cunt.

  I rephrased my words. “How can I help you?”

  “That’s better,” she whispered. “You’re invited to the golf tournament in London. No one knows you’ve been shot, so I had to accept the invitation. Will that be a problem?”

  My swing may be off a little bit, but I’d make it work. “No.”

  “Good.” She turned back to her notebook. “We have a buyer interested in purchasing the distillery. Should we give him an audience?”

  I wasn’t selling my business for any amount of money. “No.”

  “I thought as much…” She continued down the list. “Sasha called for you.”

  I knew what she was calling about. Ariel knew I preferred not to take personal calls from anyone—not anymore. “Tell her I’ll pick her up at seven.”

  Ariel nodded. “I will. Also, Layla called about dinner tonight.”

  “Tell her I’ll also pick her up at seven.”

  Ariel didn’t blink an eye or show an instant of judgment. She preferred me this way, back to fucking without giving a damn. Booze and women were more powerful than the narcotics I was on. It stopped me from thinking about anything besides tits and pussy. “That’s all I have for now. Do you need anything from me?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  Ariel rose to her feet and gave me a look before she headed for the door.

  We hadn’t talked about what happened that night. When I opened my eyes in the hospital room, she was there holding my hand. She didn’t ask me any questions or say she told me so. She understood I didn’t want to talk about it, and she let it be.

  And I was grateful.

  I deserved to be told off for my stupidity. I deserved to be insulted for my poor judgment.

  I deserved the bullet that pierced my skin and nearly penetrated my heart.

  Ariel stopped at the door. “Crewe?”

  “Yes?”

  “Lay off the scotch.”

  I met her gaze without saying a word, unable to fulfill her request. The booze was the only thing keeping me sane. It was the only thing keeping me going. “I’ll think about it.”

  2

  London

  I finished my shift at the hospital then walked home. I was running late because I had a date that night, and I’d barely have time to do anything with my hair or makeup. As soon as I walked through the door, I took a quick shower and managed my hair as best as I could. Then I left my apartment again and walked to the pizza place where we were meeting.

  Will and I were set up by mutual friends. I’d heard nothing but good things about him, but I’d never met him in person. Instead of feeling nervous like I usually did on a first date, I didn’t feel anything at all.

  I walked inside and saw him sitting in a booth, wearing a t-shirt and jeans. He had dirty-blond hair and light-colored eyes, looking handsome but with a distinct boyish charm. He smiled when he saw me, a dimple in each cheek.

  He was cute, but I didn’t feel that thrill shoot down my spine.

  I walked over to him and extended my hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  He shook my hand. “You too.”

  I took a seat across from him and studied the menu. “So what are you thinking?”

  “That you’re very pretty,” he said with a smile.

  A chuckle formed in my throat, but I didn’t let it escape. “I meant about the menu. What are you going to get?”

  “Hmm…” He eyed the choices on the wall. “I’m not picky. I’ll eat anything.”

  “Ditto.”

  “You wanna split one, then?” he asked. “How about the supreme?”

  “I like the way you think.”

  He winked before he went up to the counter and ordered.

  The second I was alone in the booth, my face fell and my thoughts turned to the man I hadn’t stopped thinking about. Crewe was always on my mind, and even when I was asleep, he was in my dreams.

  I thought I would have forgotten him by now, but I hadn’t. I finally had my life back, the kind of freedom I’d gone six months without having, but it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would. I found myself missing the stone walls of the castle, the comfortable bed I used to sleep in every night, and the view from the bedroom window. I missed listening to Crewe brush his teeth before bed and watching him shave in the morning when he got out of the shower.

  Now I felt empty inside.

  There was no excitement in my life, just the same mundane routine I did every day. On my days off, I spent time with my friends, but most of them were busy studying for their exams. I didn’t have any family, so there wasn’t anyone to open up to about my struggle.

  I wondered if Crewe still thought about me.

  Will returned with our number on a stand and two sodas. “It’ll be fifteen minutes.”

  I tried to push Crewe out of my mind, but that was almost impossible to do when I was with other men. I hadn’t slept with anyone, but I still felt like I was betraying Crewe in some way. And I felt bad for my dates since they were constantly being compared to the man I’d slept with for the past six months—a duke. “I hope my stomach can manage it.”

  “I can order some breadsticks or something.”

  “No, it’s okay,” I said quickly. “It’ll ruin my appetite if I eat now.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He stared at me and faltered, unsure what to say to keep the conversation going.

  Crewe and I never had that problem. We wouldn’t speak for hours, and that was perfectly fine. It was comfortable, actually. “So, you’re an accountant?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been working
at my dad’s office, but I’m gonna open up my own soon. Just wanted to get a few years of experience before I did that.”

  “Not a bad idea.”

  “You’re a physician assistant, right?”

  I nodded.

  “You gonna start medical school again in the fall?” He knew exactly why I dropped out of the program to begin with. Some of the other men I dated treated me like fragile glass, damaged goods. Other men were brave enough to date me, but they had their guard up the whole time.

  I didn’t appreciate being looked at like that, like there was something wrong with me. While Crewe shouldn’t have kidnapped me, our relationship was consensual. I had the power to say no whenever I wanted. None of my dates would understand that because I didn’t want to discuss my time in Scotland. “That’s the plan. But I like what I do now.”

  “Sounds like a good gig. Plus, you’re getting paid.”

  I nodded. “It is nice to buy food and shoes—those are the two things I can’t live without.”

  He chuckled, but it didn’t seem genuine.

  I was already bored, and we hadn’t even gotten our food yet. None of the guys I met were interesting. They were all the same—educated, nice, and predictable. They lacked the attraction and passion Crewe possessed. Crewe was dark and dangerous, but in a good way. He had infinite layers to his persona, layers I’d never had the chance to peel back. He could make an entire conversation out of a simple look.

  He never bored me.

  As each week passed, the truth became clearer. Crewe was supposed to leave my thoughts, but his presence only grew in my mind. When I was alone in bed at night, I hardly slept because I missed his powerful body next to mine. My thighs squeezed together because I missed having him between my legs. I even touched myself and thought of him as I did it.

  It was getting harder to deny the obvious—that I missed him.

  A lot.

  Will made small talk about our mutual friends and told me a bit about his family.

  I nodded along without really listening, wishing I were home in my apartment with my vibrator—thinking about Crewe. I missed the way his scruff used to rub against my collarbone as he kissed my neck. I missed the way that same facial hair would rub against my inner thighs when he kissed me between my legs. I missed his big, manly hands all over my body, the way they would grip my tits as he fucked me at the edge of the bed.

  “Are you alright?” Will stared at me with both eyebrows raised.

  I had no idea what he just said. I was zoning out, picturing Crewe’s perfectly chiseled body on top of mine. “Yeah, I’m fine. For a second, I thought I left the stove on in my apartment…but I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”

  Will bought my story and continued talking about his aunt, a professor at NYU.

  I went back to thinking about Crewe.

  Over a month had come and gone since I saw Crewe get carried away on a stretcher. I knew he survived the ordeal and he was going to be okay, but that didn’t stop me from worrying about him. I hoped he was making a good recovery, that he wasn’t drinking too much, and that he wasn’t more bitter and angry than he was when we first met.

  I wanted to talk to him, but I didn’t think that would go over well. The circumstances hadn’t changed between us, so there was nothing to say. There was nothing to fix. I just hoped these feelings would go away.

  Unless I really did love him.

  Did I?

  I was home on a Saturday morning when Joseph called me. We talked here and there, but never about anything that happened with Crewe. Our mutual anger hadn’t dwindled, but we put that aside because all we had was each other.

  “Hey,” I said into the phone.

  “What are you doing?” He spoke with a dead voice that was calm, borderline tired.

  “Sitting on the couch watching TV in my pajamas.” Nothing I wore was as comfortable as Crewe’s t-shirts. I wished I’d gotten to take one home with me.

  “How’d your date go?”

  There wasn’t much to tell. “Okay. We had pizza then went our separate ways. I don’t think he’ll call me again.” And if he did, I would turn him down. There was no chemistry, no interest whatsoever. I felt like I was having dinner with a brother more than a possible lover.

  “That’s too bad.”

  I wasn’t too disappointed. “What are you up to?”

  “My plane is about to land in New York.”

  “Really?” A smile formed on my face even though I was still mad at him.

  “I’m doing business in town. Was hoping I could see you.”

  “Sure. You wanna grab lunch?”

  “How about I pick something up and bring it to your place?”

  I forgot that he was living a criminal life like Crewe. Crewe hardly went out meals. In fact, we’d never been on a real date. He probably had to lay low at all times. “Yeah, sure. I like Chinese.”

  “That makes two of us. I’ll pick it up on the way.”

  I showered and cleaned the apartment before he arrived. There was no evidence that I looked like hell, usually sitting on the couch with two open bags of potato chips. I vacuumed and destroyed all signs of my laziness. If he’d witnessed it, he would definitely crack a joke or two about it.

  When he knocked on the door, I opened it and let him inside. Normally, I would hug him right away, but the memory of what he did to Crewe was still heavy in my mind. He nearly killed the man I spent half a year with. I wouldn’t forget that anytime soon. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He carried the plastic bag of food to the table. “You wanna eat now?”

  “Sure.” I opened my wallet and pulled out some cash. “How much do I owe?”

  “Shut up and eat.” He sat down and pulled out the two trays of food and chopsticks.

  I opened mine and began to eat, unsure what to say to him. It was the first time we’d been alone since he dropped me off at the airport a month ago. We talked on the phone, so he knew I had a job and a fairly normal life. “This is good.”

  “It’s awesome. I haven’t had Chinese in nearly a year.” He scarfed down his food, grabbing large chunks of food between those two small sticks.

  I hadn’t had it in just as long.

  “So, how are things going?”

  “Good. I really like my new job. Everyone is nice.”

  “That’s cool. Your friends are glad to have you back?”

  “Yeah, but they walk on eggshells all the time, like if they say the wrong thing, I’ll lose my mind.”

  He watched me as he chewed his chow mein, the stubble along his chin thick because he hadn’t shaved in a while. Joseph and I didn’t share a lot of characteristics, but we had the same eyes—green like our mother’s. “They’re just being sensitive. Can’t blame them for that.”

  “I know. But no matter how many times I tell people I’m fine, they don’t believe me. They tell me I need therapy.”

  “Therapy isn’t a bad idea.”

  “I don’t need therapy,” I said coldly. “Crewe treated me well.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not a therapist, and I can tell you have Stockholm syndrome.”

  “I do not,” I snapped. “Crewe always gave me a choice. He never made me do anything I didn’t want to do. Everything between us was consensual.”

  “Except your freedom.”

  “Well…” I didn’t have an argument against that.

  “The guy kidnapped you. End of story.”

  “It’s not black and white, Joseph.” I stirred my food with my chopstick, suddenly losing my appetite. “I cared about Crewe. He cared about me. If I had the chance to talk to him about everything, he probably would have let me go.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “You don’t know him the way I do.”

  “And I’m glad I don’t.”

  I stared at my brother and felt my rage come to the surface. “I told you not to hurt anyone. I told you not to shoot Crewe.”

  “His men fired first. I didn’t have a choice.” />
  “Because you were ambushing his castle with guns and tanks.”

  He shook his head. “They still fired first. And I wasn’t planning on shooting Crewe until I looked at him… Then the anger took over.”

  “He didn’t deserve that.”

  “And I didn’t deserve to have my sister kidnapped for six months. You just lost your mind in the process.”

  “I didn’t lose my mind, Joey. Crewe is a good man.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Have you heard anything about him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How’s he doing? Is he working again?” The doctor told me he would live. I just hoped that meant he would live a normal life.

  “As far as I can tell, he’s back to normal. I haven’t seen him with my own eyes, but I hear he’s still running the scotch business with Ariel and taking care of his royal duties like the douchebag that he is.”

  I shot him a glare. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

  He met my fire with his own. “What the hell is wrong with you? He stole you from your bed in the middle of the night and kept you as a prisoner. As in, he broke international law. Why are you protecting him?”

  Joseph would never understand. No one would ever understand. “It was more complicated than that. Crewe and I had a relationship…we were friends. We were close.” There were no words to describe what we had. I wasn’t even entirely sure what the two of us shared.

  Joseph set down his chopsticks in the center of his food and looked at me, his expression hard. It was a stare he’d given me countless times as we were growing up. It usually meant he was pondering what he was about to say. “London…did you love this guy?”

  I told Crewe I loved him, but I thought it was just an act. I was tricking him into caring about me, being an actress in a play. But maybe those words weren’t meaningless. Maybe I meant them from the bottom of my heart. “I…I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” he whispered. “The fact that your answer isn’t a simple no is concerning to me.”

  “It’s concerning to me too.”