King of the South

by Calia Read

  Livingston wads up his linen napkin, places it next to his empty plate, and leans back in his chair. “Your momma is in an interestin’ mood.”

  “Is interestin’ the correct word?”

  “How would you describe her mood?”

  I mull over his question. “Unpredictable. She has her good days and her bad. Today is good.”

  A corner of his mouth lifts. “And yesterday when your momma invited me over for dinner?”

  “Must have been another good day.” I give him another shrug and smile serenely. “Lucky you.”

  Livingston doesn’t reply. He watches me carefully. My hands are practically shaking from the weight of his gaze. It’s because I’m skittish about our impending conversation. That’s all.

  I take another bite of my food and aggressively chew. I’ve barely swallowed before I’m pushing away from the table. “Lovely dinner and a stimulatin’ conversation, but we should keep Momma company, don’t you think?” I ask too brightly.

  Livingston arches a dark brow but doesn’t challenge me. As we stroll through the doorway, I clear my throat and make sure to keep my tone light. “I’ve always felt we’ve had a … close bond.”

  Livingston looks at me, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Is that so?”

  “Well, perhaps close is the wrong word. Unique?”

  Livingston looks ahead, the smirk spreading into a devastating, all-knowing grin. “Rainey, I’m gonna make an educated guess that you want somethin’ from me?”

  The snort that slips from me is instinctive and can’t be helped. If you’re bitten by a mosquito, do you not swat at it? For me, the same can be said for pompous males. It’s ingrained in me to turn my cheek to them. “I don’t want somethin’ from you.”

  “No?” Livingston counters.

  “I merely …” I look down at the floor, ignoring Livingston’s stare. “I need a favor from you.”

  “That requires somethin’ from me.”

  Swallowing my pride, I look at Livingston and find his eyes gleaming with unshed laughter. “Very well, I need somethin’ from you.”

  “Very well, I’m listenin’.”

  I stop in the middle of the hallway and pull away from him. I wait a few seconds. Is Momma going to take this opportunity to burst from the sitting parlor and interrupt us again? Thankfully, that doesn’t happen, so I blurt the words out that I’ve been meaning to say all night. “I’ve decided not to fight Miles’s will.”

  Interesting enough, Livingston only appears mildly shocked by my admission. “Is that so?”

  I nod. “I was upset when I first found out the news. I’ve processed the information, and perhaps it wouldn’t be … terrible if I had a husband.”

  My Lord, just saying the word husband makes me cringe.

  Livingston makes himself comfortable and leans against the wall, crossing one leg over the other. “And where do I come into this equation?”

  “You come in because I know you want to be rid of this entire executor situation. The quicker I find a husband, the better.”

  There it is. My false explanation in its entirety. I know Livingston is having a difficult time accepting my explanation because even I am. What I just said goes against my personality.

  With my shoulders held back, I solemnly look Livingston in the eye while he watches me sharply.

  “So in the span of days, you’ve decided you need a husband?”

  “Don’t say it in such a manner. It’s perfectly normal for a woman to want to get married.”

  Livingston nods. “No, you’re right. But you came to my home and tried to shoot me with your bow and arrow for a second time because you were so outraged by Pleas’s will, so forgive me if I’m skeptical. And while we’re on the topic of your arrow. Would you like it back?”

  My blood begins to boil. “If we’re on the subject of my bow and arrow, I shot you because you humiliated me in front of virtual strangers. And no, you can keep the arrow as a reminder never to anger me again.”

  “You are not helpin’ your argument.” With a mock sigh, Livingston stands up straight, turns around, and begins to walk in the direction of the foyer.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” I rush out. Livingston stops walking. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I speak. “Don’t go.”

  Slowly, Livingston pivots and arches his brows. Interest lights his gaze. It’s been a long time since I’ve said those two words to Livingston. “Continue,” he says.

  “As I was sayin’… before I lost my … temper.” Livingston smirks. “I think it’s time for me to find myself a husband.”

  I must say, in those next few minutes, I almost convinced myself I could’ve been an actress because Livingston eyes were sharp. He’s searching for any clue that would indicate I was lying. But I don’t break. No, not once. Too much was at stake.

  “All right,” Livingston drawls out. I nearly sigh with relief. “Do you have an arrangement prepared to help you find a husband?”

  At those words, I frown. “I didn’t think of that. Does Charleston have a shortage of men who I haven’t been made aware of?”

  “As charmin’ as I may find you,” Livingston says dryly, “other men might not feel the same.”

  “Thank you for the encouragement,” I retort. “Like I said, the quicker I find a husband, the faster you get out of bein’ the executor of my dowry. But now you’re causin’ me to think that I never will find a husband, and if I don’t find a husband, then what do I have? Nothin’! I will have nothin’ and …” My words fade as I take a deep breath. In truth, it’s not a husband I’m worried about losing; it’s me and my momma losing everything Daddy and Miles had worked so hard for.

  Livingston becomes every man when he senses a woman on the verge of hysteria. His eyes widen, and he holds his hands up in front of him as if to ward off a wild animal. “It’s all right. It’s all right. You do not need to worry. I have a plan. Everythin’ will be all right.”

  And like every man who’s encountered a hysterical female, Livingston stiffly comforts me. I could receive a more soothing embrace from my family driver than this. Nonetheless, I lean into him because I need this hug. More than I realize.

  I can count on one hand the number of times Livingston Lacroix has hugged me. The day of my daddy’s funeral. When I was twelve and the boy I proclaimed to love and would spend the rest of my days with let it be known he’d never be sweet for a bony amazon like me. And there was the time after his brutal attack when we spent a lot of time together. As his lack of memories for the things and people around him continued to grow each day, I suddenly felt helpless and hugged him, hoping that for one moment I could silence the discord in his mind and give him peace.

  Similar to what he’s giving me now. My eyes remain open the entire time, and as the seconds pass, my pulse grows louder and my heart beats faster. I’m the first to disentangle from the hug and take an inelegant step back. I keep myself distracted by staring at the floor. I don’t know what I just experienced. Today has been incredibly peculiar, filled with many firsts.

  When I look back at Livingston, I find him staring at me with a faint furrow between his brows. He clears his throat and subtly shakes his head. “Meet me tomorrow at my home so we can discuss this in greater depth, all right?”

  Eagerly, I nod. I don’t know what he has planned, but I’m more than willing to listen.

  I’ve said what I’ve needed to say tonight. I can’t tell whether I feel relief or if I’m going to become sick. Either way, my energy is drained. I want to crawl upstairs, directly to my bed. My exhaustion must show because Livingston pulls out his pocket watch. “I need to be on my way. Tell your momma dinner was lovely.”

  “I will do that.”

  Livingston dips his head. He gives me his signature smirk that he uses on every woman. The one that makes a dimple in one cheek become prominent. The one that causes his eyes to become hooded as though he’s thinking secretive thoughts about you and counting down the moments to have y
ou to himself so he can tell you every little detail.

  “Good night, le savauge.” Livingston says, knowing I hate the nickname with a fiery passion.

  Oh, we were doing so good. For a moment, I thought we were going to end tonight on a good note, and then he deliberately ruined it.

  Livingston brushes past me before I can reply. Breathing deep through my nose, I watch the butler open the front door for him, reminding myself that I can plot my revenge later. As of now, Livingston has agreed to help. He has a plan. That’s all I need.

  Out of nowhere, Momma pokes her head out of the sitting parlor. I nearly jump out of my skin. “Dear Lord!” I say, clutching a hand to my chest. “Don’t do that.”

  “Did you speak with him?” she presses.

  “You didn’t listen?”

  Momma appears appalled that I would ever ask such a question. “Of course not.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t have your ear pressed against the door.”

  Finally, she steps away from her hiding spot and walks toward me. “A lady never eavesdrops, sugar. Now tell me what you said.”

  “I told him I decided I needed a husband.”

  Momma’s face lights up, and a satisfied smile lights up her face. “What did he say?”

  “He said he had a plan.”

  Momma’s shoulders sag at the same time as her eyes widen. “How wonderful! I knew he would be of help. Did I not tell you Livingston is a gentleman?”

  “Yes, Momma. You told me,” I say, my tone flat.

  Stopping in front of me, Momma grabs my arms. “What’s the matter? He said he would help.”

  I muster my brightest smile. “Nothin’ is wrong, Momma. I’m simply relieved the conversation has taken place.”

  “You must collect yourself. Everythin’ will be all right.” Momma steps back, telling one of the servants she’ll have a cup of tea in her bedroom. Twisting around, I watch Momma. I’m surprised she doesn’t float up the stairs. She’s nearly buoyant from her happiness. And why shouldn’t she be? She saw no flaws in the dowry and finding a husband.

  Slowly, I walk up the stairs. Nothing has been solved, not even close. But for the first time in days, I take a deep breath and don’t feel the weight of my family’s burden pressing down on me.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Livingston

  When I told Rainey I had a plan, I may have embellished a bit. All right, I embellished a lot. I had no plan.

  I wasn’t Étienne. The only times I brainstorm fast and effectively is when I have to get myself out of a bad situation.

  Well, here was a bad situation. Being stuck with Rainey Pleasonton for sixty days. I couldn’t think of a worse situation. I’m also becoming more and more convinced that every time I’m around her, I put my life at risk. My God, experiencing the war was almost easier than being near that hellion of a woman.

  The minute I arrived home last night, I flipped to a fresh page in my notepad and began to deliberate over Rainey’s sudden desire for a husband with a renewed vigor that took me by surprise. My dedication had more to do than with having Rainey as a ward. Maybe it was because for once in my life, someone was coming to me first for help rather than my brother or someone far more responsible, and I didn’t want to disappoint Rainey. However, there was no denying sixty days was a short length of time to find a suitable spouse. It’s been done before in shorter amount of time, though.

  But this morning, as the sun slowly began to rise, I could no longer keep my eyes open and woke up to the sound of the car horn outside my window. Drool ran down my mouth, and the paper stuck to one side of my face.

  The predicament I faced was the men I associated with were good-for-nothing bastards at times. I wouldn’t approve of their unions to a newborn kitten, much less to Rainey. And the rest of the men who are respectable have more than likely heard of or felt the wrath of Rainey. They won’t be lining up in front of her door anytime soon unless they’re strong-armed.

  As I grew more and more frantic, I sent for the one person in Charleston who not only has one idea, but many. And they’re probably insane enough to work. I never received a reply to my message or call. Now I was left to wait and wonder what I’d say to Rainey if I had to face her without a solution.

  Right then, I hear three brisk knocks on the door. Springing into action, I hurry to open the front door.

  “I got out of bed for you. This shit better be good,” Serene says as she nearly waddles into my home.

  “Well, nice to see you, too,” I say and shut the door behind her.

  “Two hours of sleep, Livingston. Two hours.” Serene holds two fingers up as though I’m hard of hearing. “And that’s being generous.”

  “I don’t understand. Why two hours?”

  Serene walks down the hall toward the sitting room as though this house is her own. “The human inside me decided it would be fun to use my ribs as a jungle gym so I couldn’t breathe, and Alex thought it would be super adorable to wake up at the butt-crack of dawn.”

  “Well, I’m deeply grateful you’re here.”

  At that, Serene turns and arches a graceful brow. “Livingston Lacroix is grateful. Dear God, this really is serious.” She takes a seat on the settee, and with a dramatic sigh, she makes herself comfortable. You would think she walked into town instead having her driver drop her off by how out of breath she is.

  She claps her hands and points them at me. “First thing’s first. Do you have any shrimp?”

  “Pardon?”

  Serene closes her eyes and rests her head against the back of the settee. “You clearly need my help for something, but I’m working for two. I need brainpower, and I woke up craving shrimp. Shrimp with lemon juice. Wait, no. I’m gonna go with Worcestershire sauce. No. Lemon juice would be perfect.”

  I hold up a hand before Serene has the chance to change her mind. “I’m sorry, did you confuse my home with a restaurant?”

  “I’m sorry, do you want my help?”

  “What makes you think I need your help?”

  “Because you never ask to speak with me alone, so I’m assuming this has to be something serious. But not too serious or otherwise you’d reach out to Étienne. So what is it? Do you have ten baby mamas banging down your door demanding you step up and be the father?”

  I wince at her words. “Absolutely not. Even I have a small shred of honor.”

  “Gambling debt?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but no.”

  Understanding lights her eyes, and she claps her hands. “Ah … this has to do with Rainey!”

  I see trying to formulate the best way to ease into this conversation is futile. “You don’t know that.”

  “Of course, I know that. Rainey is the only woman who does not give you the time of day. Rainey drives you mad. Also, you’re forgetting that I was there when you told Étienne about the will and her shooting you with the bow and arrow.”

  “For your information, Rainey does not ‘drive me mad’ as you put it. But you are right on one account. This does pertain to Rainey.”

  Serene grins. I continue before she has a chance to say a word. “I’ve asked for your assistance because we need to find Rainey a husband.”

  Serene furrows her brows. “Why?”

  “Why?” I repeat. “How sleep-deprived are you? She needs a husband to inherit the money.”

  Serene impatiently waves her hands in the air. “I know that. But why are you suddenly so gung ho on helping her?”

  At her question, I look away. Is this a bad situation for me? Yes. But there are more layers to my motives. When I had dinner with her and Leonore, I watched her from across the table. I saw the furtive looks she gave the hallway. Rainey was trapped in her own purgatory and managing the death of her brother. Perhaps this could serve as a nice distraction for her.

  “Because I want to be rid of her, that’s why,” I lie.

  Serene’s gaze is unflinching. Without breaking a sweat, I stare back, but after a few seconds, I’m the
first to look away. “Whatever you say. Are you so determined to find her a husband because you’re the executor?”

  “Yes, and I called on you because I know you’re diabolical at times but very inventive at findin’ solutions.”

  “Oh, I am loving the compliments. Keep them coming.”

  “I will as long as you begin thinkin’ of solutions.”

  “All right, all right,” Serene says with a smile.

  She heavily sighs and focuses on the pattern of the chair beside mine. I rest one ankle over my knee and carefully watch my sister-in-law. She remains quiet and repeatedly drums her fingers on the armrests.

  “Do you have anything?” I probe.

  Her eyes widen. “I just started thinking!”

  “Rainey will be here soon.”

  “She’s coming over today? Why didn’t you tell me?” Serene hisses.

  “Because I didn’t want you to feel unnecessary pressure while your mind thought of somethin’.”

  “Well, too late now!”

  In the midst of our bickering, there’s a knock on the front door. The two of us immediately stop talking and stare at the hall as though we’re on the run from the law. We’re still for so long there’s another knock, this time louder.

  Serene makes a shooing motion with her hands. “It’s your home. Go answer the door!”

  Holding my hands out in front of me, I stand and take a few steps backward before I turn. “I’m goin’. I’m goin’,” I grumble.

  I wasn’t concerned that I didn’t have a solution. With Serene made aware of Rainey’s intentions, I felt confident my sister-in-law would think of something while Rainey’s here.

  I open the door, and I can’t stop myself. My eyes examine Rainey to make sure there’s no possible way she’s hiding her bow. I don’t have the desire to be shot today.

  Much to my relief, she appears to be weapon free, so I pull the door wider for her. Upon entering, Rainey takes one look at me, and her eyes instinctively narrow. She’s appraising me the same way I assessed her. My lips kick up into a grin as I wonder what’s going to come out of that wicked little mouth.