Wicked Rule (Heartless Kingdom Book 1)

by K. I. Lynn

  I shook my head. “He won’t stop there.”

  “No, he won’t. But make sure whomever you pick can’t be bought by him.”

  The words were like ice to my veins. I wouldn’t put it past our father to do something to thwart my desires. Familia ante omnia, after all.

  After leaving Hamilton’s office, I moved down a few floors to the legal department. Rhys’s office was on the west side of the building with a view of the Hudson.

  A little scrap of a woman stopped in front of me, her eyes wide, binders clutched tightly to her chest. With a squeak, she did a sudden snap to the left and raced away.

  I stared after her in confusion before stopping at Rhys’s assistant’s desk. The brunette stared at her computer, blinking, with her lips parted almost in horror. There was a frozen quality about her.

  Rhys had a high turnover in assistants for reasons I hadn’t figured out, but I didn’t care either. It was, however, annoying when I arrived and the girl sitting at the desk outside his office didn’t even have a nameplate, leaving me standing there attempting to get her attention.

  I cleared my throat, and her pale, fear-filled expression turned to me.

  “Is he in?”

  She nodded, then her brow furrowed like she was trying to figure out what to do next.

  “First day?”

  “Y-yes,” she squeaked out.

  She looked up at me with hope in her eyes that I might tell her it was all right, that she was doing well, or some shit I’d witnessed Holly do time and time again. Instead, I stared at her, wondering if she was going to make it through the day.

  “If you’re this flustered on day one, you should probably quit.” All hope faded from her face, and her eyes began to water.

  “Atticus, are you terrorizing the help again?” Rhys called, and I turned my attention to the now-open door.

  “Hmph, if I remember, you were the one who used a firecracker to blow up the breakfast cart, which would make you the help terrorist.” I stepped inside and closed the door, then settled into the plush chair across from his desk.

  “Margie wouldn’t come near me for years,” he chuckled. “What brings you down from your perch?”

  “I need a couple of contracts drawn up.”

  “Just send the information to Jennifer, or Jessica…what is her name?” Rhys said as he looked toward the door, then shrugged.

  “It’s not business. It’s personal.”

  His brow quirked as he looked at me and leaned back in his chair. “I’m listening.”

  Not going to Alexander meant top secret, and Rhys loved to know all the dirty secrets to use for his advantage at a later date.

  I pulled a folded-up piece of paper from my inner jacket pocket and held it out. Rhys’s eyes studied me as he pulled it from my grasp and unfolded it. His forehead creased as he scanned it.

  “Really, cousin?”

  “Shred it when you’re done.”

  He sighed. “I’ll have a preliminary draft for you later today.”

  With a curt nod, I stepped out and headed back toward my office. The air on my floor was infinitely clearer. Perhaps it was due to fewer occupants on the floor, but I felt much more comfortable in my arena.

  Upon rounding a corner, I bumped into a small brunette. Files dropped from her arms to the floor, exposing a glorious rack.

  What was it with peons getting in my way today?

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. de Loughrey. Please don’t fire me,” she begged as she dropped to the floor to pick everything up.

  I blinked down at the small girl in front of me. Had I gained such a reputation that the poor girl trembling in front of me feared me? Was that the curse of running the de Loughrey family? I didn’t know who she was, but she had been around long enough to know who I was, meaning she worked for either my father or my brother, maybe my uncle. Then again, she could have worked for me, but I didn’t pay attention to any of my assistants past Holly.

  “I don’t understand why you think I would fire you for running into me.”

  I clenched my jaw, waiting for her eyes to meet mine, but became impatient when she refused. A mousy little thing, but the sight of her breasts stirred something, and I began to wonder if she’d be a perfect vehicle to relieve my pent-up frustration.

  “They are two ways this can go. One, I help you gather up your files and send you back to work. The other is you following me back to my office and put those pretty pink lips…” I stopped myself. Stopped myself from divulging my desires, my need to work off some of the mounting aggression pumping through me.

  She stared up at me with wide eyes, a blush blossoming on her pale cheeks. The innocent look only stoked the fire in me, awakening the wicked king all too willing to succumb to my baser needs.

  I wasn’t my father, and I refused to prey upon employees. The girl still staring up at me tested that resolve. I didn’t like to mix business with pleasure, especially not with a young, naïve little intern, no matter how much my cock wanted it.

  Instead, I glared down at her. “You shouldn’t look at men like that unless you are wishing for depravity.”

  There was no need for a response. I simply walked away. Bridget was a brunette as well. Perhaps I’d give her a call. Ease the desire to have my cum sucked from me.

  “Office. Now.”

  In my periphery, Holly hopped up from her chair and followed me through the door. Once she was in, I closed the door and headed over to the wet bar to pour myself a drink.

  I said nothing, and Holly had been around me long enough not to ask.

  “Am I really that scary?” I asked as I slammed the empty glass on the counter, then poured more before turning back to her.

  “Att, you’re a de Loughrey. Scary is in your blood.”

  I glared at her use of my nickname once again as I passed her on my way to the sofa chairs in the corner. She followed behind and took a seat across from me.

  “I have high expectations.”

  “You also take no prisoners and have a serious case of resting bitch face.”

  “Seriously?”

  She quirked a brow at me. “Your aura screams ‘get the fuck out of my way’ everywhere you go.”

  “It comes with the territory. I constantly feel like I’m wrangling a house full of toddlers, especially of late.”

  “There is a flip side to your harsh front.”

  I scoffed at that. “And what is that?”

  “Nobody crosses you.”

  “Constant aggravation.” The replacement phone Holly already procured and set up began ringing, but I ignored it.

  “You need a vacation,” she said and pulled out her phone, probably looking at my schedule.

  “What’s that?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Time away from the office.”

  I shook my head and frowned. “It’s not a good time.” I couldn’t even remember the last time I took two days off in a row.

  “It’s never a good time.”

  “Maybe it’s better. Less relationships I have to manage.”

  “I’m just saying, sitting on a beach, drinking a mai tai would do you some good.”

  “Thanks, Holly.”

  “I’ve always got your back. Don’t worry your pretty little head over being scary.”

  I glared at her. “Do you ever see me worrying about what anyone thinks of me?”

  She laughed at that. “No, but I know that ego still needs fluffing from time to time.”

  “How is it I’ve never fucked you?” My phone began to buzz in my hand, my mother’s name on the screen, but I ignored it.

  “You’re not my type.”

  “I’m everyone’s type.” Money made the world go round and women fell to their knees in front of me with their mouths wide open.

  “I’m married. To a beautiful woman.”

  “That just says threesome to me.”

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Do you need me to bring out the little black book?”

 
It was tempting, but much more of a hassle than calling Bridget. The socialites that I’d spent a night with in the past were insipid, and I couldn’t stand their constant plying to gain a hold into my life.

  There was only one woman who was going to accomplish that, and that was because she wasn’t even trying.

  “No. I do need a lunch reservation. I need out of here for an hour or two. We’ll call that my vacation.” Reservation was incorrect. I never needed a reservation where I was going, but it allowed Holly to inform them I was coming and to ready it.

  “Table for one?”

  I nodded. “The usual. And I’m going to leave my phone with you.”

  She blinked at me like I’d spoken a foreign language. “Leave your phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  The phone went off again, and I rubbed my temples. “Five fucking minutes of peace.” Something I was desperate for, especially recently, with family coming out of the woodwork: third cousins I may have encountered at a family reunion, a second cousin on my mother’s side, and even closer relations who wanted to ride the high of my inheritance.

  After all, if I fulfilled the terms of the will, I would become the richest and most powerful de Loughery since my grandfather. I would even surpass his reign.

  She gave a curt nod. “I guess lunch without your phone would be a vacation, and you’ll have Damien nearby. Still, you should fly down to Haven for the weekend. Get away from the city.”

  Haven, our island in the Bahamas, wasn’t a bad idea. I could take one of my playthings and spend the weekend fucking everything out on her. She would love the private Bahamian island, and I could get my dick sucked out on the pool edge overlooking the pristine aqua water.

  The problem was that if a single member of my family found out I was going, it would no longer just be me and my playdate.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said as I headed out the door.

  My afternoon was filled with back-to-back meetings, and I picked up the pace. The longer I was there, the more time I would have to center myself before I let loose on someone. In our five-minute conversation, the phone had rung five times, and I would snap if I didn’t get away. My fuse was much shorter of late.

  Being free from the shackles of my phone was settling. Each step took me farther from the demands that constantly weighed me down. If there was any true emergency, Holly knew where to find me.

  I stepped up to the entrance of 130 Degrees and was immediately greeted by Mitchell, the day manager.

  “Good afternoon, sir. It’s a pleasure seeing you again.”

  “Pleasantries, Mitchell?” It was a custom we had deleted from our encounters in lieu of more casual conversation.

  “Sorry,” he whispered as he led me back to my private booth. “We have a food critic here today, and I’m trying to make an impression.

  “Wonderful to see you again, Mitchell,” I replied, playing along. While 130 Degrees had been doing spectacularly well with critics, putting an exemplary perception out was a good idea.

  Not that I really cared what they said, but I knew Mitchell did. He took pride in his work, and it showed.

  He held the curtain back, and I slid into my booth. A sigh of relief left me when it closed, the heavy curtains dampening the sounds of the other patrons, which was aided by a small speaker playing classical remixed songs heavy on string instruments. It was a niche I completely blamed on Penelope, but I found it soothing and upbeat at the same time.

  I doubted anyone who knew me would guess that.

  “Good day, Atticus,” my waitress said as she entered my dim sanctuary and set a brandy down in front of me.

  “Ophelia,” I greeted. “It may be a double today.”

  She nodded. “The usual? Or should I tempt you with the wagyu today?”

  The usual was the healthier option, but the steak might help me get through the day. “Tempt.”

  “Pan-roasted fingerling potatoes with pancetta?”

  “Yes.”

  “Broccolini?”

  I nodded. “Not—”

  “Charred. Yes, sir. Anything else?” she asked, meeting my gaze for the first time.

  Her brown eyes were wide and met mine with respect, friendliness, and that edge of regret of missed opportunities that prevailed between us. One I was now determined to erase.

  “That will be all for now.”

  “I will be back shortly,” she said with a smile before parting the curtains and disappearing.

  Ophelia had been my designated waitress at least once a week since that business meeting nearly a year ago.

  I made it so.

  Just so I could see her again.

  I’d been having lunch at 130 Degrees for much longer than that, but not as often as when I discovered she worked here.

  Before her, I’d scared more than one server out of the restaurant. Ophelia, on the other hand, caught on quickly to my habits as well as my moods. She knew me only as Atticus, as did all the staff, and the table was reserved for me and me alone.

  I was certain rumors floated around about it, but the managers were told to either squash them or tell them I was an investor and it was the investors’ table. The truth was—I owned it. It was a side venture of mine and run by my holding company, Aegean Rule. There were a few other businesses they managed, and all were outside the de Loughrey hold.

  Not everything fell under the de Loughrey Corporation, many of us having other smaller businesses as well as charities. It was more about control than income. The money made in a year barely covered my personal staff for a few months.

  Lunch wasn’t my only reason for visiting 130 Degrees, but because my frequency had increased since discovering Ophelia, my presence was not out of the ordinary. However, my reason stretched beyond satiating my stomach.

  It was torture every time I laid eyes on her. A desire for something I told myself I couldn’t have.

  When my meal was finished and after I paid the bill, I pulled out a unique business card and held it out to her.

  “Come to my office. Tomorrow. Nine a.m., and don’t be late.”

  She blinked at me, her gaze moving down to the card, then back up. “Why would I go to your office?”

  I stood up and moved to stand beside her. “I need to talk to you about a private matter.” There wasn’t enough privacy in the restaurant to discuss my idea.

  “Don’t tell me you gave me something last year.”

  I froze and stared at her. It was the first time in a year either one of us had even alluded to that night.

  I leaned in, taking note of the sweet scent of her skin. Just that small inhale calmed me in a way nothing had before. “This has nothing to do with that encounter, but if you want me to give you the same thing for your birthday I did last year, I’m more than happy to oblige.” I reveled in her sharp intake of breath. “Give reception this card when you arrive.” My lips brushed against her neck, just below her ear.

  After crossing through the doors, my blood buzzed in anticipation, making my skin feel alive. The morning could not come fast enough.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I hissed as I looked from the map on my phone to the building in front of me.

  The butterflies kicked up in my stomach. I couldn’t be in the correct place. I just couldn’t. The card Atticus had given me was black with a metallic-gold inlay that held only a symbol on one side and an address on the other. But the symbol didn’t match the logo etched onto the glass.

  The de Loughrey building was the third tallest in the city and was completely inhabited by the de Loughrey Corporation, one of the largest companies in the world. They were so large that de Loughrey was a household name.

  All night I’d worried about why Atticus wanted to see me. It was so out of the blue and had my stomach in such terrible knots that I’d barely slept.

  For the last year, waiting on him every week had been torture. The looks, the attraction; they may have been one-sided, and I hated my
self for that. For letting him continue to affect me. For forcing me to follow his request instead of telling him to fuck off all with one look from his beautiful blue eyes, one brush of his shoulder against mine.

  Instead, I stood in front of a symbol for one of the most powerful families in the world, wondering what the fuck I was doing there. With a deep breath I stuffed the card back in my bag and entered through the glass doors.

  The elevator bays were surrounded by a large desk with security scanning identification cards as people entered. It seemed a time-consuming process, and I wondered how many people were late due to early morning lines, though it seemed to be moving at a quick pace.

  There was even a line at the front desk checking guests in.

  As I looked around at the sharp business suits and crisp clothing, I instantly regretted my casual attire. Black leggings, ballet flats, flowy lilac tunic, and jean jacket with my ratty messenger bag stood out, and I’d received a few dubious looks.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  I blinked and stepped forward to the counter. “Um, yeah, I’m here to see…” It was then I realized I didn’t even know his last name.

  “The name, please.”

  I nodded and pulled back the flap of my bag, digging for the card I’d had in my hand moments before. “He gave me a card…” In one of the pockets, I finally located the matte black card and held it out. “He said to give you this?”

  It came out more as a question, but that was because of the way he looked from the card to me, then back to the card. He gently took it from me as if it held some mystical power, turned it under the light of the scanner, then held it back out.

  “Identification, please.”

  I blinked again before reaching into my bag for my wallet and pulling it out. I grimaced as I wrestled the card from the slot and handed it over. The stare down I was getting wasn’t one of animosity but more of curiosity.

  After scanning my identification, he gave it back and then held out a similar black card, which was more like a hotel key card.

  He leaned forward and pointed toward a single elevator. “Go over there and scan that card. It will open and take you where you need to go.”

  “And where is that?”

  “To Mr. de Loughrey’s office. One of his assistants will be waiting for you.”