I took a step back.
“You could get on your knees right now. When we get to the party your lips will be swollen, and everyone will know it’s from sucking me off.”
“Go to hell.” I turned to leave the bathroom, but his hand on my shoulder stopped me.
“Araneae, turn around.”
I didn’t. “I’m not getting on my knees for you.”
“Turn around.”
With more apprehension than I realized I could possess, I did as he said and turned to face him. Did I expect him to do as he had before and jack off on the dress? I wasn’t sure. What I didn’t expect was what he said next.
“Do it.”
My chin rose higher. “Go to hell. I’m not getting on my knees for you or anyone else.”
“Good. You’re a queen. You were born to be one. Act like it. If you want to call me every name in the goddamned book, do it. Tell me to go to hell. I’ve been there and back. Do it here or later at the apartment when we’re alone. Just don’t say or do anything to lessen my power in that room. That includes your fucking silent act. Are we clear?”
I nodded as I spoke, “Yes, Sterling. We’re clear.”
“And one day…” A bit of a smile threatened to break through his facade. “One day, I guarantee you will be on your knees.”
I didn’t answer as I turned again and went back to the bedroom.
There wasn’t anything I could say because I was certain he was right.
When it happened, it would be on my terms.
Araneae 32
My hand in Sterling’s grasp shook as he escorted me from our car, the one that Patrick had stopped in an alleyway. Once inside a building, we moved down a hallway in what, based on the delicious aromas, was the back of an upscale Italian restaurant. Coming to a stop at what appeared to be an elevator, Sterling placed his palm on a screen. Instantly, the screen came to life with green lights indicating that an elevator had been sent.
We were truly a handsome couple, he in his custom suit and me in the Sinful Threads prototype. His suit hugged him in all the right places, accenting his broad shoulders, long legs, and toned torso. The bright white shirt contrasted with his sun-kissed complexion, and the black silk tie complemented my outfit.
This dress was different than the one I’d worn to the dinner on the Riverwalk. This one had a plunging neckline, one that went below my breasts and an open back that forbade the wearing of a bra. The tight waist accentuated my figure, and the skirt clung to my legs, the hem hitting my calves with slits going up each side. The crystal-adorned black peep-toe pumps were from another well-known designer, and I was wearing the jewelry I’d found in the box with the red dress. The only addition to my ensemble was my charm bracelet. I hoped it would give me strength to make it through whatever awaited us above.
Sterling reached for my wrist and turned the bracelet, examining the charms. “I’ve never seen that before.”
“I don’t wear it often. I know it wasn’t with the things, but it is my moral support.”
“That should be me.”
By the sound, the elevator had stopped behind the closed doors.
I gave him a sincere smile. “It is now. When I dressed, I was mad at you.”
The doors slid open to a man in a uniform, complete with a hat like I’d seen Patrick wear, one with a hard bill.
“Mr. Sparrow, welcome.”
“Jamison, it’s nice to see you.”
“Sir, the event is underway, but I know they’re honored that you would take the time to attend.”
Sterling released my hand to place his again on my lower back. His warm fingers splayed possessively over my exposed skin. What he didn’t do as we rode higher and higher into the sky was to introduce me to Jamison, my clue to stay mute.
As I concentrated on his hand, I decided that maybe following his directions would make this night go easier. Stay quiet, be seen, and get the hell out.
The doors opened to an ornate foyer with dark wood trim, deep red walls, and a glistening chandelier hanging from the ceiling at least fourteen feet above us. The light from above danced upon the marble floor in prisms of color dominated by the red of the walls.
My high heels clicked as we stepped off the elevator.
“Mr. Sparrow,” an older woman, dressed all in black, gushed as we moved forward.
I sucked in a breath as she came closer and Sterling leaned in, kissing each of her cheeks. A bit of green-eyed jealousy reared its head, surprising me at my own reaction in response to her perceived intimacy with my man.
Was he mine?
After all, he continued to say I was his.
When had I started to think that way?
“Evelyn,” he replied, his deep tone welcoming, “may I introduce the lovely lady accompanying me, Ms. McCrie.”
Her movements stuttered as she offered me her hand, almost as if she knew my first name and feared that perhaps I was a real spider, ready to inject her with my venom. Politeness won as she continued toward me. I offered her my hand as we greeted one another.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Evelyn.”
“And you, Ms. McCrie.”
As we stepped toward the larger room, Sterling leaned down, whispering in my ear. “I guarantee in twenty seconds, everyone will know you’re here.”
I swallowed as a cool chill settled over me. The orchestra’s music continued, yet as we stood in the entryway, conversations quelled and head after head turned our way. I scanned the room, unwilling to lower my eyes as each person stared my direction. At a table near the dance floor, I saw someone I recognized. It was Senator McFadden. I’d sat with him and his wife at the dinner at the Riverwalk. However, the blonde woman by his side wasn’t his wife. As Sterling led me inside, I tried to remember his wife’s name.
There were three empty stools near one end of the bar. He led me to the third, farthest away from others. “Remember what I said. I need to speak to someone. When I return, we will leave.”
“You’re leaving me alone?”
“You’re not alone.”
He turned to walk away as I scooted my knees around to the bar.
“Miss, would you like a drink?” the young bartender asked after Sterling was gone. She had her brown hair styled and her uniform was black slacks and a pinstriped vest that covered her, yet left little to the imagination.
Did this qualify as a say-nothing situation?
I thought about answering Jana on the plane.
“A manhattan. Thank you.”
Leaving a square red napkin on the bar, she nodded and walked away. Farther down the bar was a younger couple, well dressed for the occasion.
Turning my head slightly the other way, I was able to see Sterling speaking with a man a few years his senior. I recognized Sterling’s expression. It wasn’t one that I liked.
My whiskey drink arrived in a thick crystal goblet, the maraschino cherry sinking to the bottom of the amber liquid, its stem sticking out. “Anything else?” she asked.
This time I simply smiled and shook my head.
Plucking the cherry from the glass, I bit the juicy fruit before taking a sip. I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but during it, a few other men joined Sterling’s discussion. They were all well dressed and all listening to whatever he had to say.
Maybe it was nerves or the bottle of water I’d drunk in the car on the way here. Regardless, I needed to excuse myself for a minute. Surely he wouldn’t mind if I slipped away to the bathroom. I considered waiting, but his discussion didn’t appear to be ending anytime soon.
“I’ll be right back,” I told the bartender. “Please watch my drink. Where is the ladies’ room?”
Another quick peek toward Sterling, and I followed the bartender’s directions. For as elegant as the club was, the ladies’ room was rather small: two stalls and two sinks. I went into an unoccupied stall, hurrying with my business. Once back out to the sink, the woman washing her hands was the one I’d seen with Senator McFadden.
With a customary smile in the mirror, I went about washing my hands when suddenly the woman gasped.
I turned her way and asked, “Are you all right?”
Her gaze wasn’t on me, but zeroed in on my wrist. “That bracelet…”
My pulse kicked up a beat as I quickly reached for a cloth towel from the basket between the sinks and dried my hands.
Her ice-cold, bony fingers that wore diamonds the size of nickels wrapped around my wrist. “Where did you get that bracelet?”
I wasn’t comfortable answering this woman even without Sterling’s orders. I pulled away from her grip. “Excuse me, my fiancé is waiting.”
I wasn’t sure what made me use that qualifier. Maybe it was because he’d told me he’d used it earlier to protect me. I hurried from the bathroom. As I reached the door to the club, my steps slowed. It was hardly regal to skid, slip, or fall in front of everyone. I lifted my chin as I walked toward the bar, step by step, as heads again turned. The group of men that surrounded Sterling also turned.
I couldn’t identify even one of the other men, yet the dark stare that penetrated the crowd was focused on me. As it had the first time, it stole my breath and increased my pulse.
With an air of the status he said I deserved, I made my way through the people and back onto the tall stool. The liquid in my drink quivered as I lifted my glass. With the rim to my lips, I hoped the contents would ease a little of the strange feeling the lady in the bathroom had given me.
I replayed the scene. She was slender with blonde hair pulled back in an elegant twist, diamonds dangled from her ears as well as her fingers, and her gown was long and emerald green. If I really thought about it, the eerie feeling began before she asked about my bracelet. I felt it as our eyes met.
My neck straightened as the energy around me shifted, telling me he was near even before his hand landed upon my shoulder or voice came to my ear.
“I told you not to talk to anyone.”
“I haven’t,” I whispered back.
“Then how the fuck did you get that drink?”
I turned to face him, my eyes shooting lasers—if only they could.
His large hand grasped my upper arm. “We’re leaving.”
My gaze went from him to his hand as the pressure on my arm built. “Sterling, you’re hurting me.”
Instead of releasing his grip, his fingers blanched. His mouth barely moved as he growled in my ear. “Get down now, or I’ll put you over my shoulder. We’re leaving.”
Since there was nothing I’d put past him, my heels quickly moved from the bar beneath the stool to the floor. “Is everything all right?” I asked as I stood. “Did it work?”
Our words were low. “You’re safe.”
Was I?
As we began walking toward the elevator with my arm aching under his grasp, for not the first time, I questioned his statement. From whom did I need protection?
“Mr. Sparrow—”
“We’re leaving,” Sterling said, interrupting Evelyn.
A commotion behind us caused both of us to turn.
“Araneae?” the woman from the bathroom questioned, her pronunciation was like that of the real spider. “Oh my God, is it really you?”
My lips opened as Sterling’s grip loosened, and he reached for my waist, pulling me against him.
“Why? How?” she asked, her cheeks red and blotchy and her soft brown eyes flooding with tears. “My God, why? How are you here? And why are you with him? Marrying him?”
The doors to the elevator opened, and the smile on the man inside faded as Sterling escorted me aboard.
“Talk to me,” she pleaded.
“Get us downstairs,” Sterling barked as the man pushed the appropriate button.
I reached out and stopped the doors from closing. “Who are you?”
“Araneae,” Sterling said.
I moved my hand back, allowing the doors to close but not before I heard her answer.
“I’m your mother.”
My knees went weak as I collapsed into Sterling’s arms.
* * *
Sterling and Araneae’s story continues in LIES and concludes in PROMISES. You’re not going to want to miss the rest of this spellbinding story.
ONE CLICK LIES NOW >
THE KING
SKYE WARREN
The highest stakes…
My father gambles every night, falling deeper and deeper into debt. When he hits the bottom, he places a new bet: his daughter. I’m his entry bet to the biggest underground poker game.
Every kind of danger circles the velvet-covered table, but only one man makes me tremble.
A trailer park princess.
The son of a criminal king.
We don’t belong together, but I’m caught in a twisted game.
His eyes meet mine with dark promise. And when he puts down his cards, I know I’m going to lose more than my body. I’m going to lose everything.
PART ONE
The Prince
Chapter One
One of Mama’s boyfriends took us on a trip when I turned four.
We visited this restaurant that had a special mermaid show. Metal bleachers lined up in front of a giant pool with see-through sides. Mermaids swam around in time to music while I watched with rapt attention.
Even though I could see the clear little tubes they used to breathe, even though I could tell the fins were made of fabric, it was magical to me.
I think I fell in love that day.
Inside the gift shop I found a stuffed blue-green mermaid with yarn hair and sparkly scales. I begged Mama to get it for me, but she said no. We never had much money.
The next day we went tubing in the river.
The tubes were black and slippery, the water dark. Not sparkly blue water like the mermaids had. I didn’t like it but I knew better than to complain, especially with Mama laughing extra loud and Mama’s boyfriend drinking beers from the floating cooler. He had what Mama called a movie star smile, but it just made him scary.
I held on to the tube as hard as I could, until my muscles were burning. It was too big for me to lay over the top, too big around even as I floated in the center, my arms slung over the large rubber sides. The river bumped me this way and that, taking me away from Mama until I pumped my legs to get back to her.
It happened suddenly.
The water got rough.
My hands slipped from the rubber.
I kicked hard against rocks smooth with algae. It hurt but I knew I couldn’t stop.
The water sucked me down.
One minute I was floating in the middle of a big black tube. The next I was completely under, black currents swirling me around in circles, like a leaf in a hurricane. I remember the fear of it, the way I felt freezing inside, even colder than the water surrounding me.
The current slammed me to the bottom, the rocks hitting my back.
Then my head.
I don’t remember what happened next, but someone must have pulled me out of the water.
Mama bought me the mermaid with green-blue hair to make me feel better. I kept that mermaid for a long time. Even after Mama was gone. I like to think it means she loved me, even if she ended up loving needles more. I found her in the bathtub one night, her grown-up things spilled over the cracked tile, her eyes open, her hands cold.
I didn’t ever like swimming after that, even in sparkly blue pools.
After that I went to live with Daddy in the trailer park. I think he felt bad for what happened with Mama. He had this careful voice he used with me, like he thought I might cry. Even though I never did.
Daddy brought me to his parole meeting once. I sat in a chair with itchy fabric and wooden arms, trying not to look at the other men in the waiting room. The officer wore a brown suit, not a police uniform. He asked me if I liked living with Daddy.
“It’s okay.”
He leaned forward, his eyebrows pressed together. He had a big nose and a shiny head, but
not in a bad way. It made me trust him. Like he was a regular person. I didn’t trust people who looked too slick and handsome, the kind of men Mama dated.
The kind of men who bring needles as presents. The kind of men who disappear in the middle of the night with our rent money.
“Are you sure, Penny? You can tell me the truth.”
I think he wanted me to tell him about the gambling, the nights we would go to the bar, when I would sit in the corner with a book while the men shouted and smoked and drank. The way Daddy would sometimes lose everything, even bus fare, and we would have to take the long walk back to the trailer park.
“I like it here,” I tell him, because I do. There are no needles, and most of the time there’s enough food. I can’t trust that anything else would be better. “Daddy takes good care of me.”
It was almost true when he brought me to his card games. The owner of the bar was named Big Joe, and he would usually give me a plate of French fries and a Sprite. Mostly I ate every day. That didn’t last forever.
Once Daddy said I was old enough to stay home, it got worse.
He started staying out overnight, only coming back the next morning, his clothes rumpled and his eyes red. Then it was two days. Then three.
Four.
Now I watch the dirt road from the window, wondering if he’ll come back tonight. I tried to make the box of mac and cheese last, but it’s gone now. My tummy makes a loud sound. Daddy won’t have much money, if he comes back now. He never does after the long trips. But I still keep wishing for him. Even if we were hungry, we would be together.
This is the longest he’s been gone.
Worry presses down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. What happens if he doesn’t come back? The same way Mama didn’t come back? No, don’t think like that. So I keep looking out the window, hoping I see his large form coming zig-zag down the lane.
When it gets to be nine o’clock, I take a bath and get into my favorite nightgown. I try to keep a regular bedtime even when Daddy’s gone. It makes me feel like there’s a grownup in the trailer.
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