War Of Hearts: A Wicked Hearts At War Book One

by Mallory Fox

  Shivering, I pull his garment around me, enjoying the smell of him, all kinds of thoughts racing out of control as I follow Seth into the pub.

  * * *

  Inside is as dingy as the outside, with the distinct odor of hops and stale beer, and an open fire bringing at least some warmth and light to the room. Exposed brickwork under flaking plaster, Tiffany lamps, and battered leather sofas all add to the charm. And in the middle, spanning the entire the length of the room, is a hops-covered cluttered-up bar.

  Placing a hand on the back of my neck, sending a shiver all the way down my spine to my toes, Seth steers me to a cosy table with a corner seat right next to the fireplace, out of the way of the main bar area. I steal a look at my reflection in the pub wall mirror as we pass. Even if wearing his clothes is oddly comforting, I look ridiculous. Large enough to cover most of my pleated skirt, it looks like I’m wearing next to nothing but a sweater over my stockings.

  “Sit down. I’ll get us some drinks.”

  Another command.

  I pull the hem of my skirt down and take a seat, trying not to fidget. My mouth has gone dry again and my palms are hot and sticky. I know why I’m here, but gallivanting off campus on a school night to go drinking with the enemy doesn’t come lightly. I console myself with the thought that I’m here on my father’s orders.

  This is how I get close to Seth and find out what he knows.

  Alcohol loosens the tongue, doesn’t it?

  Seth gets served right away, mostly because we’re the only ones on the premises. A grand total of three patrons, each old enough to be my grandfather, gave us the once over before returning to their drinks as we entered. Seth ignores them all now and marches back with two grubby looking glasses and bottle of something dark. He pours a few fingers of the devilish-looking spirit into each glass and slides one of them across the table to me, taking a seat on the adjacent corner.

  I clear my throat and take a sniff, and then promptly put the glass back down.

  “I don’t drink from dirty glasses and I certainly don’t drink whisky.”

  That beautiful mouth of his tightens. “It’s a premium Macallan single malt.” He turns the bottle so I can see the label and then swirls his glass, taking a swig. “I’m drinking most of this bottle so if you want a lift home you’ll stay and drink.”

  “I’m not getting in the car with you if you’ve been drinking,” I say frostily.

  “One of the locals will drive us home.”

  “We have school tomorrow.”

  “What, can’t handle a little hangover?”

  Glaring at him, I pick the glass up. “Fine.” I steel myself and take a mouthful of the burning liquid, trying not to choke as I swallow it down.

  Seth’s dark smirk is totally worth it.

  “Good girl. Now let’s see if you can keep up.”

  I’ve no idea why, but hearing praise from him has a warming effect on me and the heat building from the alcohol is equally encouraging. I make a mental note to limit myself to no more than two drinks. That was one.

  “You never answered my question,” I say.

  “What question?”

  “Why you want me to leave,” I take a sip, finishing my glass, and so does he. He pours himself another and tops me up. That’s two.

  His eyes flick over to me. “I would have thought it was obvious.”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s not, unless it’s as simple as you hate my family.”

  “It’s as simple as that.”

  “I see. No other reason?”

  “None, why?”

  “What if I don’t want to leave?” I ask, hastily changing the topic.

  “Shame, humiliation, long walks back to campus… take your pick.” We both drink some more. Seth downing his glass like he’s trying to obliterate the world, while I try to savor things a little more slowly. As the molten heat fills every part of my body, not just my face, I can’t help but stare at him.

  Why do you have to be so damned gorgeous and my damned almost-stepbrother, Seth Montford?

  It’s not long before he twigs that I’m openly staring and leans back in his chair to give me a better view. Bollocks. Two glasses… or was it three? And I’m anyone’s. It’s obvious I’m already tipsy.

  “Is that all? It all seems very tame,” I say as I chew my lip and focus on the glass in my hands, and the amount of whisky left in the bottle. There’s still a lot. I badly need to stop drinking. I can’t lose my wits around Seth.

  “I imagine it’s worse if you’re a girl,” he says, oh so nonchalantly.

  I frown at him and take another slug, licking my lips at the taste of the malt. “That’s a bit misogynistic isn’t it?”

  “I’m stating a fact.”

  “What if I want to join your little elite club?”

  Suddenly, he’s reaching forward to fill our glasses again. That’s three or is it four?

  “Come top of the class above me and I might just consider your application.”

  “Not everyone has done that, surely.” I think back to some of the more unsavory members of the house, who have more money than brain cells.

  “There are other options.” A smile dances on the edge of lips, sending the heat from the alcohol rushing straight to my core.

  “Like?”

  “You can offer something you can’t afford to lose or…”

  “Or…”

  “Or take the Montford family name.”

  I almost spit out my drink. “I didn’t take you for one to be in favor of nepotism.”

  He gives a half shrug. “Family rules, not one of mine.”

  “What if you take my name?”

  His brows draw together, and he gives me the once over. “That could only ever happen if we marry, Darlington.”

  Bollocks. Maybe I said too much?

  “Maybe I should marry a Montford,” I say absently, drinking a little more of the whisky. “Imagine the power I’d have.”

  He quirks a brow. “You want advanced classes that bad?”

  “No, you’re right. I’ll just destroy you and take your kingdom instead. Fuck your little power club, I want a part of the bigger pie. I want your company.”

  “Montford International?” he chuckles, breathing warmth into his stone-cold features for the first time since we entered the pub. Oh great, I know how to make you smile. I just have to say something you think is outrageous and would never happen in a million years.

  I frown at him. “If you acquire Darlington Estates and take my inheritance away from me, then Montford International is the next best thing, no?”

  “Against your father? Against me and my family? You’d be declaring war,” he says, his expression almost incredulous.

  “Pfft, I can handle war.”

  “No, princess, I don’t think you can.”

  I round on him. “Because I don’t have a dick? Come on, you’re not the only one who has balls around here.”

  “You have balls? Should I check?” His blue eyes are full of mirth.

  My face flushes and a ripple of excitement runs through me blending with the light buzz effect of the alcohol. I still my features enough to scowl at him. With the warmth of the fire, the cosiness of the sofa, and his sweater cocooning me… I’m ready to drop.

  “You touch me, and I’ll castrate you,” I half growl, half slur. There’s a slight tug at the corner of his lips. He’s fucking finding this all very amusing. Just wait until tomorrow. Then who will be smiling?

  “I’ll take your word for it then that you do, Pearl Darlington. And that you want to play.”

  Chapter 5

  Seth

  I can’t get over the way she looks at me right now…

  … head held high, slight blush on her cheeks, challenge laced with desire in her hazel eyes. She looks utterly fuckable and ball-achingly adorable wearing my sweater, half-cut from drinking only four shots of neat whisky.

  She’s such a lightweight. I knew she would be. She’s not too drun
k though. Still lucid enough that she knows what’s she doing.

  And she knows what’s she doing.

  Even her pouty lips, declaring war across the table, have given me a raging hard on.

  Thoughts flit through my mind, of taking her outside and fucking her senseless in the front seat my car. I squash it down and take a slug of my drink.

  The liquid fire is helping me take the edge off, gain some focus, because I need focus around this girl. I pour myself another shot and make a move to do the same for her.

  “No, I’m done,” she says, covering the top of her glass.

  “I’ll say when you’re done. Move your hand.”

  She shoots me a look and bites her lip, before removing it and placing it in her lap. “Fill it up if you want, I’m not drinking it,” she says, in a blasé tone.

  Christ, she’s fucking adorable. I fill her glass all the way up to the top. “Let’s play a game,” I hear myself say.

  Her eyes seek me out, searching. “What game?”

  “First one not to answer a question drinks their entire glass.”

  “That’s a bullshit game,” she says, flushing a bright crimson as though she’s embarrassed already. Interesting reaction.

  “I thought you wanted to know my secrets, Darlington?” I tease.

  Her brow furrows. “Fuck it. Fine. Let’s play.”

  “Good answer. You go first.”

  She lifts her eyes heavenward. “Okay, what’s your strategy for taking over Darlington estates during our supposed ‘friendly’ takeover?”

  A smirk tugs at my lips. I have to admire her going straight for the jugular.

  “Takeover is a harsh word. All we want to do is combine assets, resources, and competencies, and achieve a greater market share. Your company is no longer being run efficiently and we are cash rich enough to afford your premium price per share. Your board of directors would do well to welcome our bid.”

  “That’s a textbook answer.”

  “But it is the truth. Now my turn.”

  “Tell me, Pearl, rumor has it you’re looking to lose your virginity to me. Is that true?”

  “How did… Fuck.” Her mouth twists and she shakes her head. “I’m not answering that.”

  I indicate to her full glass. “Then drink.”

  “Fuck no.”

  I give a soft chuckle and let her see how much she amuses me by allowing it to reach my eyes. “You’re breaking the rules, princess, there will be consequences if you don’t drink.”

  “Rules are made to be broken,” she shoots back at me. “Although, I think I should have been warned first that there were consequences. You can’t just make these things up as and when you please.”

  The thought of breaking her has my mind whirling. She doesn’t totally get it, but fine, I can play her game the way she wants. “I see, you want a warning first?”

  “That would be nice.”

  A dare and a challenge if I ever heard one.

  “Fine, take this as a warning. If you don’t answer my second question or drink, there will be consequences,” I say.

  “Such as?”

  “Pick one. Shame, humiliation, pain, regret… you know the score.”

  When I say the word ‘pain’, she swallows and licks her lips in a way that I’m sure she knows drives me crazy. It’s like she wants me to hurt her. She’s so primed right now, I could easily take her home and bury myself inside her so deep she’d scream for days. But I want her to give it to me willingly. And she will, when she’s ready.

  “Your question…” I prompt.

  She leans forward and arches a brow, her pixie-like lip-curl making me think she has a secret to hide. “Have you heard from your mother lately?”

  Her question takes me aback, but I can only imagine it’s some reference to my mother’s disappearance. What she hopes to gain from asking is beyond me. Still, I’m game to humor her.

  “Not lately. We talked at length over two weeks ago. She mentioned how much she adores your fashion sense and intelligence when she heard you were attending the same school as me. Anything else you want to know about my mother?”

  “Nope”

  “Then it’s my turn.” Under the table, hidden from public view, I place my hand on her leg. She stiffens but doesn’t pull away. “Although, I hope you don’t answer so I get to punish you.”

  Her pupils dilate, and she looks up at me from under her lashes as I start to massage the inside of her thigh as though I’m turning her on more than anything.

  “Is it true that your father has you playing the role of his chaste little princess until the highest bidder comes along and he reaps the rewards?”

  I lean in close enough to whisper in her ear, my fingers massaging higher, teasing the moist seam of her panties with my thumb. “Because if you want me to fuck you just to screw your over father, I will. Just say the word.”

  “Seth…” She shifts in her seat, squirming next to me as I continue to stroke her. “What… what are you doing?”

  “Just trying to get an honest answer. If you answer correctly, you’ll get a reward.” The pleading in her voice has my cock straining in my pants. Why the hell do I want her so much? It must be the allure of her family name. The illicit attraction for someone so pure and so off limits.

  “Is that a yes?” I’m truly going to enjoy breaking this one.

  “Fuck… Seth.” An almost inaudible groan comes out of her and she leans into me, assailing me with the fragrance of her floral perfume and the underlying scent of coconut.

  I don’t wait for an answer. Breaking my own rules, I tug the thin silk of her soaking wet panties aside and slip my finger in, and then slowly circle it, teasing her clit.

  “Answer the question, Pearl.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m not… I’m not for sale.”

  We’ll see about that. Everyone is for sale.

  I straighten up, teasing her one last time before pulling my hand away to finish my glass of whisky and top up hers.

  “Then drink.”

  She blinks a few times and comes back to the world of the living. “That’s unfair.”

  I angle my head to get a better look at her, reading her face and posture. Unfair that I’ve stopped or unfair that I’m making her drink when she answered?

  “What’s unfair is you haven’t touched your drink.”

  Her eyes narrow giving me a glassy stare. “I answered.”

  “Bullshit answers aren’t allowed.”

  “How was that a bullshit answer? This game is a load of crap,” she says under her breath.

  “It seems to me like you’re enjoying it.”

  “Well, I’m not,” she growls at me, cheeks turning crimson. “You need to stop changing the rules.”

  “And you need to stop chickening out. Here.” I slide her glass closer to her side of the table, just as my phone buzzes in my back trouser pocket. “Drink that while I take this call. I want it finished by the time I get back.”

  “I’ll puke if I drink all that.”

  I get to my feet, flashing her a cold smile. “Fine by me, we’re not taking my car back.”

  * * *

  Outside, the cold air is as much a wake-up call as the person on the other end of the line.

  “Jonesy. You found her? Where is she?” It’s the only question I have for my private investigator.

  “I found Nicole, she’s in Kensington…with him.”

  There’s an immediate clenching in the pit of my stomach to his response. “How long?”

  “An hour or so. They’ve been in Southeast Asia; Bali, I think, until he came back early for the negotiations.”

  “And it’s definitely Pearl’s father?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  Fuck. “Pictures?”

  “I literally just sent them to your phone.”

  I hear the beeps as a bunch of messages are received. “How long until the media find out?”

  “Hours, days? Who knows. They cam
e in separate cars and she drove around the entirety of London, went shopping, had lunch, and then changed cars twice before coming here.”

  My lips flatten and I swallow hard. The frigid air doesn’t seem so cold now my blood is beginning to boil. “The bastard doesn’t want this getting out.”

  “I would say not. This is going to impact the result of your acquisition, right?”

  No. This is going to screw the acquisition to kingdom come.

  Pearl’s bastard father fucking my mother is the last thing we need right now. I resist the urge to punch a wall or storm back into the pub and bestow the same treatment he’s giving my mother on his daughter.

  “Montford? Are you still there?”

  I don’t answer. I can’t. It’s like Jonesy is talking down the phone at me miles away rather than right in my ear. But that’s not how these things are solved. I need to focus. Maybe I can talk to Nicole and persuade her to come home?

  Forcing a lungful of air out, I relax my grip on the phone and shift my weight.

  “Montford?”

  “I’m here.” Only just. “What do you know about his daughter?”

  “Pearl Darlington?”

  “Yes, just give me the general gossip-column tattle on her. Who she’s fucking, that kind of thing,” I say, scrubbing a hand over my face. Tell me I’m not barking up the wrong tree.

  “There isn’t much. She’s been described as ambitious, independent, outspoken … But all that just translates to her being massively insecure and an obsessive overachiever. It goes without saying that whoever she marries gets the keys to the Darlington castle. She likes a good party but always leaves early and leaves alone. Has a reputation for taking a guy to the limit and then dropping him like a hot stone. Tabloids have already labelled her as a ‘heartbreaker’ but behind closed doors guys call her ‘fucked in the head’. Want me to get details?”

  “Heartbreaker? Interesting.”

  “Need anything else.”

  “No. No that’s fine. Send your bill to Frances, she’ll see that you get your bonus.”

  I end the call and swipe on my phone to see the pictures he sent me. My teeth grind as soon as I see them together; my mother and Pearl’s father. I force myself to flick though the images before putting my phone away. The impulse to break something resurfaces and it takes all I have to bury the desire before it explodes and takes over.