Rogue Royalty

by Meghan March

  Rogue Royalty

  Meghan March

  Contents

  Rogue Royalty

  Don’t miss out!

  Also by Meghan March

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Epilogue

  Richer Than Sin

  Ruthless King Preview

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Meghan March

  Connect with Meghan March

  Rogue Royalty

  Book Three of the Savage Trilogy

  * * *

  Meghan March

  Copyright © 2018 by Meghan March LLC

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  Editor: Pam Berehulke

  Bulletproof Editing

  www.bulletproofediting.com

  Cover design: @ Letitia Hassar

  R.B.A. Designs

  www.rbadesigns.com

  Cover photo: @ Weston Carls

  www.westoncarls.com

  * * *

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  * * *

  Visit my website at www.meghanmarch.com.

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  * * *

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  I’d love to hear from you. Connect with me at:

  Website: www.meghanmarch.com

  * * *

  Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

  Also by Meghan March

  Richer Than Sin

  (Coming in August)

  * * *

  Savage Trilogy

  Savage Prince

  Iron Princess

  Rogue Royalty

  * * *

  Mount Trilogy:

  Ruthless King

  Defiant Queen

  Sinful Empire

  * * *

  Standalone:

  Take Me Back

  Bad Judgment

  Beneath Series:

  Beneath This Mask

  Beneath This Ink

  Beneath These Chains

  Beneath These Scars

  Beneath These Lies

  Beneath These Shadows

  Beneath The Truth

  * * *

  Flash Bang Series:

  Flash Bang

  Hard Charger

  * * *

  Dirty Billionaire Trilogy:

  Dirty Billionaire

  Dirty Pleasures

  Dirty Together

  * * *

  Dirty Girl Duet:

  Dirty Girl

  Dirty Love

  * * *

  Real Duet:

  Real Good Man

  Real Good Love

  * * *

  Real Dirty Duet:

  Real Dirty

  Real Sexy

  About This Book

  Unthinkable. Unbelievable. Inconceivable.

  I don’t recognize what my life has become. I can’t tell where the lies end and the truth begins anymore.

  He came into my world and urged me out of my safe little corner.

  All my dreams are coming true except the one thing I want most—my own happy ending.

  But I’ll fight for it.

  For now.

  For always.

  * * *

  Rogue Royalty is the final book in the Savage Trilogy.

  1

  Temperance

  I sit on the chair, birds chirping in the trees above me, and I feel nothing.

  Nothing.

  I’m supposed to feel something. There are five stages to grief. I read about them in the paperwork the funeral home gave me.

  Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

  Where the hell is feeling nothing on that list?

  Why can’t I be angry? Rage would be so much easier than this . . . emptiness.

  I’m broken.

  Steam has long since stopped rising from the tea in the china cup Harriet pressed into my hands, but I haven’t yet taken my first sip.

  My landlady returns from the house, a tie-dyed silk caftan billowing out around her in the breeze, and an envelope in her hand.

  “Temperance, darling. There was a man here for you.”

  Every muscle in my body tenses. “What man?” I whisper.

  “I already forget his name. Something that ended in Stein and sounded exceptionally snobby.”

  Cell by cell, I force myself to relax. Breathe, Temperance. In. Out. In. Out.

  It’s been my mantra during the hellacious month since my brother’s funeral, and there’s been more than one day when iron fists clutched my lungs and tried to suffocate me.

  I wanted them to suffocate me. Sometimes I still do.

  I never knew breathing could hurt so much. But when you’ve been flayed open and gutted, even existing hurts.

  “I think he got tired of buzzing your apartment. He said he’s been trying to reach you for days.”

  I ignore the buzzing when I’m upstairs. I think people have come, based on the food showing up in my fridge when I remember to think about eating, but everything is such a blur that I couldn’t tell you who it was or how long ago they came. It’s better that way. I don’t want to see anyone. I didn’t even want to come outside to have tea with Harriet, but she threatened to evict me if I didn’t see the sunlight at least once this month.

  Harriet
sets a manila envelope on the table. “He didn’t want to leave this with me, but I told him he could deliver it through me or shove it up his sphincter, because you wouldn’t be answering your bell even if the four horsemen of the apocalypse rang. He relented after I promised you wouldn’t sue for allowing me to forge your signature.”

  I force a rusty noise from my throat that’s supposed to be a laugh, because that seems like the normal human reaction to Harriet’s statement. Normal. Something else I’ll never be again.

  I look down at the envelope where my name is typed in bold capital letters above my address. Because I’m not yet ready to meet Harriet’s undoubtedly concerned gaze, I glance at the upper left corner.

  The sender is three last names I don’t recognize, but they all sound fancy.

  “I’ve never heard of these people.”

  “He said he works for a lawyer’s office.” Her finger jabs into my field of vision as she points at the envelope. “For this lawyer’s office.”

  Lawyers.

  Great.

  I turn away from the envelope and resume staring at the Chinese lantern hanging from a tree branch, and let the muted street noise wash over me.

  I decide I like the sound out here. Silence is the enemy. Silence means I can hear my own thoughts, and I can’t face those yet.

  I can’t face any of it yet.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” Harriet’s tone vibrates with impatience.

  “No.”

  “Dammit, girl. You can’t ignore the entire world forever.”

  I nod like I’m agreeing with her, but in reality, I plan to ignore the world for as long as humanly possible. Forever, if I can.

  It’s kept spinning, even though my universe has crashed to a halt. It will keep spinning while I drown myself in grief.

  “If you won’t, then I will.” She snatches the envelope off the wrought-iron table and rips it open. “Not like it’s my first federal offense of the week,” she says as she pulls papers out of it.

  Harriet mumbles to herself for a few minutes, and I purposely block out what she’s saying. I don’t care what it says. I don’t care about anything. It’s easier that way.

  Then she says something I can’t ignore.

  “. . . the building and all of its contents are now solely owned by Temperance Ransom.”

  I tear my gaze off the lantern and stare at the paper in Harriet’s hand. “What?”

  She holds it out to me, and I gape at it. At first, the words on the page blur together, and I swipe at my eyes to clear my vision. My fingers come away wet.

  I’m not crying.

  I’ve perfected the art of lying to myself. I suppose that seems fitting, considering I’ve been drowning in lies for months, even though I didn’t know it.

  I blink and focus on the words on the page.

  A voice inside me screams No! but I shut it down. This letter confirms one more fact. The one I refused to believe was true. Because I’m stupid.

  Kane is never coming back.

  Whatever was left inside me, holding together my last shreds of hope that I was wrong about everything, snaps. I crumple the paper as I rock in the chair with tears pouring down my face.

  2

  Temperance

  For hours, I stare at the letter—smoothed-out but still battered—where it lies on the coffee table. My vision goes blurry until I blink every so often.

  Kane left me the warehouse.

  How dare he?

  For the first time since I opened my eyes to face the reality that my brother, Rafe, was gone, I feel something other than a vast and yawning nothing.

  Anger.

  It’s there. Simmering in my soul, warming up to a roaring boil.

  How dare he?

  I bolt off the sofa and pace the tiny living room and kitchen space of my apartment. Pacing isn’t normally my thing—it’s Keira’s. But right now, I feel pent-up anger hit my bloodstream like an addict mainlining her latest score. I can’t hold still.

  Kane gave me the motherfucking building and all the cars. Like that somehow, some way, on any planet, makes up for the fact that he killed my goddamned brother.

  An animalistic howl rips free from my lungs as tears once again spill forth.

  “How could you do this? I hate you!”

  Grief takes me to my knees and I pound on the floor, not caring what Harriet must think below me.

  I beat the scarred wood until my fists feel bruised to the bone. Dropping my forehead to the floor, I sob.

  “How could you do this?” The words come out as barely a whisper, because I have nothing left.

  He took everything from me.

  A pile of bricks filled with hunks of metal means nothing now.

  Nothing.

  Someone knocks on my door. “Temperance, it’s Harriet—”

  “I’m okay,” I reply, my voice cracking.

  “You have a visitor.”

  “No!” I bark out my answer. I don’t want to see anyone. Can’t see anyone.

  “It’s your boss, dear.”

  Great. Just who I want to see me like this.

  I collapse into a pathetic heap on the floor. The door opens before I can find the energy to rise to my feet.

  “Temperance? Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  Keira’s heels click over to me, and she drops to her knees beside me before wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

  I haven’t seen her since my brother’s funeral—although I think she’s been here while I was sleeping twenty hours a day. She told me to take as much time as I need and that everything would be fine at the distillery.

  I took her at her word, forgetting completely about the responsibilities I used to be proud of handling, and wallow in hell instead.

  “What can I do?” she whispers, and I hate the pity in her voice. But why wouldn’t she pity me? I’m the dumbass who fell for the guy who killed her own brother.

  I’m a joke. A disaster. A mess beyond all hot messes.

  I swallow and try to think of something to say. Anything.

  “He gave me a building.” I sit up and stare straight ahead, not meeting her gaze.

  “What?” she asks.

  “He gave me a motherfucking building!” I reach for the shreds of paper on the floor in front of me. “How could he do this to me? He lied, and I believed him. How could I have been so fucking stupid? How?”

  My reserve of tears should be empty, but they flow faster and faster. I ball my sore hands into fists again and try to wipe the droplets away.

  Keira hugs me, squeezing tight. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She repeats the words over and over, rocking with me as I bawl like someone who had her heart ripped out. And I did.

  To top it off, it was my own damned fault.

  I might as well have pulled the trigger myself. Rafe died because of me. He came because of me. Kane lied to me. Used me. Betrayed me.

  The wounds are still too fresh.

  “How could he do that?”

  “I don’t know, honey. I truly don’t.”

  I whip my head sideways, almost cracking skulls with Keira. “But Mount knew. Didn’t he?”

  “Temp—”

  I cut off whatever she’s about to say. “Don’t you come here and give me some bullshit story. He had to know. He knows everything.”

  Keira swallows, pity creasing her features. “He hasn’t told me anything. I swear it to you on my life. Lachlan could’ve known, but he would never tell me. I don’t even know who gave you a building.”

  I stare at her in shock. She doesn’t know who Kane is? How is that even possible?

  Mount. Mount is the reason for all of this.

  Every bit of pain I’m feeling right now can be laid at his doorstep for sending Kane into my life. But I can’t hate Keira for that. She didn’t do anything wrong—except marry the devil.

  “Mount had to know everything.”

  Keira closes her eyes for a beat. “You’re probably right. He probably
knew. There’s very little he doesn’t know. However, there’s a lot he doesn’t share, and always for good reason.”

  “I hate him!” The words come out a raw roar. “I fucking hate them all.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Temperance. So sorry.”

  Shredded inside, I drop my gaze back to the paper on the floor. “I want answers.”

  “I know you do, and I can’t give you what I don’t have.”

  “He told me he wouldn’t do it,” I whisper, even though she has no idea who I’m talking about. “How could he do it?”