Wicked Rule (Heartless Kingdom Book 1)

by K. I. Lynn

  “Why do you call him Chef and not Loreno?” I asked as I picked at my plate an hour later.

  “Because that is his title. It was hard earned, and he deserves the respect it entails.” He stopped eating and stared at my plate. “Do you not like it?”

  I shrugged. “It’s fine. I just…never mind.”

  He let out a harsh sigh and leaned back. “If you tell me ‘never mind,’ I will do just that. Seeing as it is your birthday, I will press for more.”

  “It’s good, it’s just…” I let out a sigh. “It’s my birthday, and you know what I really want? Pizza. A good old New York-style, fold-in-half, slice of pepperoni pizza with mushrooms. And a beer. Some crappy, piss-water beer. And then after I’ve had my fill and am about to explode, I want a sundae with all the fixings except nuts. And somewhere in there, I want to celebrate with some shots of peach schnapps while playing a game of pool.”

  He blinked at me. “That is oddly…specific.”

  I shrugged. “That’s what you get when you ask a question about me or about what I want—an answer that you’ll probably turn your nose up at.”

  He was ignoring me, his attention down on his screen.

  “Of course you’re ignoring me,” I said, defeat swallowing me up. The one day of the year I wanted to feel important to somebody, and there was nobody. I swallowed and blinked back the tears threatening to spill. Was this loneliness all I had to look forward to?

  “I’m not ignoring you, but the sooner I contact people, the sooner we will have access to all that you described.”

  “W-what?” I stuttered.

  “It’s your birthday. If you want a hundred dollars of crap, then you’ll get it. Now, this shitty beer—do you prefer bottle, can, or tap?” He looked at me expectantly. That same expression he always wore that was devoid of emotion.

  I missed his smile.

  Or really, any warmth he directed at me.

  But I couldn’t stop the warmth that blossomed at his effort to make me happy.

  “Bottle.”

  An hour later, Loreno’s wonderfully prepared dinner was in containers in the fridge and a huge pizza box covered the table. My mouth watered at the aroma of freshly cooked dough, gooey cheese, and the slight tang of sauce and pepperoni along with the light earthiness of mushroom.

  Jack arrived at the same time with his arms full of ice-cold beer, my schnapps, and a smorgasbord assortment of sundae toppings and flavors.

  A low moan left me after my first bite of pizza in weeks, which was weeks too long in my book. Atticus regarded me dubiously after my reaction and stared down at the pie.

  “Please tell me you’ve had pizza before.”

  “In Italy.” He pointed down to the box, almost eyeing it like it was some sort of monstrosity. “This is not Italian pizza.”

  “No, this is New York pizza.” I shook my head. “You’re a born-and-bred New Yorker, but you really don’t act like it a lot of the time.”

  “How is one supposed to act?”

  “Like you don’t care about…wait, you have that part down.” I wracked my brain before embarrassment rose. “Well, I don’t know, but you should know staples of your region and this”—I held up my folded slice and took a bite—”is New York pizza.” My full mouth mumbled the words, but he understood.

  He sighed and lifted a slice, then took a tentative bite. Once he was done, he nodded. “It’s not terrible,” he conceded.

  “It’s the best. I think you just don’t like to be proven wrong.”

  “Nobody does. And who says I was wrong?”

  “You stuck your nose up at it. That is the same as you saying you thought it was disgusting.”

  “Did the words leave my lips?”

  “No.”

  “Then I have not been proven wrong.”

  “You were thinking it, though. Admit it,” I goaded him.

  His gaze narrowed. “If and when I am ever proven to be incorrect on a topic, I assure you I will own up to it.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. A man admit he was wrong? Yeah, right.

  Especially when that man led the largest company in the country.

  How did I end up his fiancée again?

  While we hadn’t been together long, what time we were in the same space was often spent in quiet solitude.

  After a few slices, I relaxed back in my chair.

  “Had your fill?” he asked.

  I took a sip of beer as I rubbed my stomach. “Oh yeah.”

  He gave a curt nod and then stood. For a moment, I thought maybe that was the end of that and he was going to run away again to his room, but his hand hung in the air between us. I looked from it to his eyes, and he quirked a brow.

  “I believe a round of pool with peach schnapps was next on the list.”

  My chest clenched, and I slid my hand in his as I stood. Why was it that on my birthday he could be caring and put forth effort, but no other day?

  As we passed by the counter, he grabbed the bottle and then stopped at the cabinets to pull down some glasses, which he handed to me.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand.

  “I thought you’d explored all the common floors?”

  I nodded. I had, and that was when it clicked. It had only been a glance into the game area in those first few days, but in the center there was a beautifully carved pool table. Once off the elevator, he pulled me through the large double doors, and there it was.

  Large lion heads were carved into the dark-stained wooden legs, and on the side, in the middle, was the de Loughrey family crest. Deep red felt covered the top, and along a nearby wall sat a rack full of cues.

  On a nearby table, Atticus sat the bottle of schnapps down and I followed with the glasses. He released my hand, and I hated the immediate disappointment of missing his touch. After pouring two glasses, he handed me one.

  “I know this birthday is very different from your last, but I am pleased to be spending it in your company once again.” He held up his glass. Our eyes met, and I sucked in a breath at the intensity in his blue depths. His expression was as stoic as ever, but inside him was a fire that I longed to feel. “Happy birthday, Ophelia.”

  I smiled at him before tipping my glass back. The burn of the schnapps raced down my throat while the peach flavoring tingled on my tongue.

  Atticus’s face scrunched up and he gave the bottle a very, “What the fuck is this shit,” look that made me laugh before pouring more.

  “It gets better,” I said as I handed him a full glass again.

  “I highly doubt that. Are you certain this is okay for human consumption? Should there be a poison warning on it somewhere?”

  That made me throw my head back in laughter. “Hey, I lived off this stuff.”

  “I definitely need to introduce you to some good spirits.”

  My whole body warmed, and I couldn’t keep the smile from my face as I turned to the table. Atticus pulled me over to the wall to pick a cue.

  “Eight ball? Nine ball? One-pocket?” he asked as he rubbed the chalk block on the tip.

  “Huh?”

  “What game are we playing?”

  My eyes widened. Was there more than one? “Umm….solids and stripes?”

  “That would be eight ball.”

  “I’m about to get my ass handed to me, aren’t I?”

  A chuckle left him. “Have another drink. Maybe that will help.”

  “It helps in darts!”

  His eyes widened in horror. “Drunk with a sharp object being thrown? No matter how much you plead, I will decline.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “You would hit me out of spite.”

  “Maybe.”

  I followed his idea and poured another drink while he racked up the balls.

  “Birthday girl is first,” he said with a bow, his arm extended toward the table.

  I blew out a breath as I leaned over the edge of the table with my arm extended, the neck of the c
ue resting on my fingers with my pointer finger looped over the top as I lined it up with the cue ball.

  “It’s been a while,” I said as I began to wonder why I thought it was a good idea.

  I pulled back on the cue, then pushed it forward. The cue ball rocketed forward, surprising me as it slammed into the tip of the pyramid and sent balls scattering across the felt. The satisfying thunk of the red seven ball against the edge before falling into the pocket had me cheering.

  “Solids!” I threw my hands up in the air, laughter pouring from me. It was infectious, and a smile crossed Atticus’s normally stern, handsome features.

  “Just because it is your birthday, don’t expect me to go easy one you.”

  “I don’t think backing down from a challenge is even in your DNA.”

  “Probably not.”

  With that, he proceeded to kick my ass. He won, with me only sinking three balls. The next game we made a wager—one shot for every ball your opponent sinks.

  When he scored two at once on his first shot he declared half shots, or as he said, I wasn’t going to make it to the end of the game.

  Again, he won.

  “You cheat,” I said.

  “It’s a good thing you ate a lot of pizza, otherwise you would be on your ass instead of lazily smiling at me.”

  I shrugged. “Happy drunk.”

  He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I like it.”

  If my cheeks weren’t already nice and rosy from the alcohol, they were after his intimate touch. We were still so far apart, but I felt that the night was bringing us closer together.

  “Come. I want to show you something I think you might enjoy.”

  I slipped my hand in his, warmth spreading through me at the simple touch. It made me realize I’d begun to miss that natural connection, and I tightened my hold to soak it in for as long as I could.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d taken my hand, but it was the first time when my barriers were down and I allowed myself to feel him, if even just for a few short hours.

  “I don’t know if you’ve seen this are yet, but I thought you might like this,” he said.

  He pulled me into the theater, another area I’d just poked my head into simply because I didn’t know how it worked. Inside was a stadium-seating layout with a row of beautiful black leather tufted recliners in a one-two-one setting, creating a loveseat in the middle.

  He pulled a tablet off the wall as I plopped down into one of the seats.

  “This tablet controls everything in this room from the lights to the sound. It also shows you everything that is available to view, which is pretty much everything.”

  I looked at the screen, my mouth dropping open at the “New Releases” tab and the summer blockbusters that hadn’t even been released yet.

  “This is amazing. Do you really have that?” I asked, pointing to one of the newest Marvel movies. It didn’t come out for two more months.

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  He caught my eye. “We’re de Loughreys.”

  “So you just get everything beforehand?”

  He nodded. “At least when it comes to movies. It helps that we own a few studios.”

  “Seriously?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “Are you ever going to finish the folio?”

  I glared up at him, but then began laughing, my face planting into the side of his arm. “I’ve tried, it’s just so boring. And even with all that I’ve read, I’ve retained so little because have I mentioned how boring it is?”

  “My life and family are boring?”

  “Oh no, your family is…some kind of soap-opera drama, but that thing is so dry.”

  “What have you learned?”

  “That you need a better recorder of your history.”

  “Besides that.”

  “Oh, well…that you’re kind of amazing. You have more accomplishments before the age of six than I’ve had in my entire life,” I said, my high wearing off as that fact sunk in. “After my dad died, I was really lost. Then my mom married Lou, and I spent my time just trying to get out of there and stay away from him.”

  “Stay away from him?”

  I nodded. “Lou drinks. A lot. Way more than I did tonight, and he’s not a happy drunk. He never liked me, but get some booze in him and he hated the sight of me.”

  Atticus’s jaw clenched, and I reached up to smooth the tightness away.

  “I learned fast. Mom told me, she warned me, that if I didn’t want to get hit, to stay away when he was like that. If I messed up and he hit me, Mom told me it was my fault. That I should have noticed and known to keep from his view.”

  “Your mother said that to you? Rather than keep you safe, she blamed you for upsetting her husband? Her own daughter?” There was so much anger pouring out of him that all I could do was nod. I sucked in a breath at the feel of his fingers against my cheek. “You never have to worry about him or being struck again. I promise you that.”

  I shook my head. “You can’t promise that.”

  He gripped my chin and tilted my head back until our eyes met. “I will protect you, Ophelia. You are mine.”

  A heat enveloped me when he called me his with the slight gravel in his voice.

  Being all alone with him, saying such things, only seemed to heighten the attraction, the pull that always seemed to circulate between us. I reached up and ran my fingers against his lips, then pressed them to my own as an indirect kiss that pooled the warmth of desire between my thighs. When I moved my gaze from his lips to his eyes, the fire inside me roared to life.

  Why did I say no sex? It was something I was sorely regretting at that moment. It would be an act I would regret in the morning, but right then, all I wanted was for him to touch me.

  Suddenly he turned his head and stood, leaving me staring up at him.

  He held out his hand. “Come. There are still ice cream sundaes to be made.”

  Despite his sudden cool attitude, the heat of his hand soothed me.

  “Oh, my God, I have a great idea,” I said as we walked to the elevators.

  “And what is that, my dear?”

  “Put the peach schnapps into the ice cream.”

  “I think that would be a terrible idea,” he said with a chuckle, a small smile playing on his lips.

  “You’re so pretty when you smile,” I said with a dreamy sigh.

  “Pretty, huh?”

  I nodded, then my brow furrowed. “You’re so unbelievably…I can’t say pretty again, but the words are gone, but you are so pretty.”

  “And I think you’ve had enough of that awful peach stuff.”

  We returned back up to the penthouse, and I looked over all the goodies Jack had procured. All sorts of candies and cookies, chocolate, fruit, and caramel sauces, maraschino cherries, whipped cream, fresh fruit slices, and even some marshmallow fluff.

  I sat down on one of the stools, salivating as Atticus pulled the ice cream out of the freezer and grabbed a few bowls and spoons. It was quite possibly the first time I’d ever seen him do anything in the kitchen other than eat, so I was a little shocked he knew where anything was.

  I bit down on my lip in an effort to contain my smile as I watched him scoop large globs into the bowls before handing one to me. The assortment of toppings was so extensive I didn’t know if I would be able to decide, so I broke the bowl up into three sections. On one, I added in cookie bits and chocolate, a little marshmallow. On another, some fruit sauce, fresh fruits, and chocolate shavings. The third consisted of every type of candy, whipped cream, and a cherry on top.

  He chuckled as he looked at my bowl.

  “I couldn’t decide,” I said defensively, then dove into my concoction.

  It was kinda the best of worlds, though when I got near the end, the sections had melted together and left a strange combination of bites. Not bad, just not exactly the best.

  When we were done, he set our bowls in the sink and when he returned, I threw
my arms around his shoulders and pressed my face into his neck. He seemed a bit confused and hesitated to wrap his arms around me, but finally did, and I sank into his warmth.

  “Thank you for tonight. I know it wasn’t much, but it was exactly what I wanted and needed.”

  His arms flexed, pulling me tighter against him. “You’re welcome. Happy birthday.”

  The longer I stayed in his arms the more the electricity charged between us. Slowly I pulled away, my lips slipping across his jaw as I leaned back. Our eyes met, and my fingers flexed while the attraction grew, burning deep inside me.

  My inhibitions were subdued by the drinks, and all I wanted was to feel his lips against mine, his skin to mine.

  His lips ghosted mine, and then he let out a groan as he stepped back, my arms slipping from him. “Goodnight, Ophelia.”

  “Atticus?”

  His jaw flexed, and he shook his head. “No sex,” he hissed. “Your condition.”

  The warmth was gone, replaced by a steaming anger beneath the surface. Then he disappeared down the hall, leaving me standing alone in the kitchen. I jumped at the slamming of his door and slumped back down onto the stool.

  Despite the abrupt ending, it had been the most fun I’d had in a year. A harsh laugh left me at the thought.

  Atticus de Loughrey—pain in my ass 364 days a year, knight in shining armor one day a year. The evening wasn’t some grand revelation. Our interactions weren’t going to change, but I appreciated the one night where we weren’t constantly dancing around each other.

  The one night I could just be me.

  Almost a month had passed since we signed the contract, and the announcement was everywhere. One of the world’s most eligible bachelors, Atticus de Loughrey, CEO of the de Loughrey Corporation, was off the market.

  And I was freaking the fuck out.

  After my birthday, Atticus returned to his MO of minimal interaction and keeping me at arm’s length as much as he could. Even more so, it felt like.

  Which was why I was stomping back and forth in front of the muted television screen that held our faces. Pictures from our engagement session, my college ID, photos from who knows where. They were already digging into my life and my past for a tabloid news story.