Wicked Rule (Heartless Kingdom Book 1)

by K. I. Lynn

  “Why are you second guessing yourself?” Atticus asked, his jaw twitching in annoyance.

  I paced back and forth in front of him. He sat in the middle of the sofa in lounge pants and a white undershirt—a level of dressed down I never thought I’d see him in, and I had to admit I liked it. Then again, it was his house, and it was seven in the morning on a Sunday.

  “Because it’s out there now. My little bubble of nobody knowing or caring who the hell I am is shattered. They’re going to be digging into my life.” They already had.

  “And?”

  “And what if they find something?”

  His lips formed a thin line, and he sighed. “Ophelia, I’ve been through your history. Thoroughly. There is nothing there that is scandalous.”

  “There could be.”

  One of his eyebrows lifted. “Is there something I missed?”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “I don’t know!”

  He stood and walked past me into the kitchen. “This is annoying and not worth my time.”

  “That’s what you have to say about my concerns?” I asked, following him.

  “If I felt they were valid.”

  “Great. Nice to know my emotions are invalid,” I seethed. The whole situation was his idea, so I felt he could at least reassure me, but instead he was spoiling for a fight. It could be the lack of coffee.

  He rubbed his forehead. “Was being your emotional support part of the contract?”

  Oh, how I wanted to slap him. “Is being a decent human being to the woman you dragged into this that difficult for you?”

  “You weren’t kicking and screaming when I slipped that ring on your finger.”

  It wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. Maybe he woke up on the wrong side of the bed. That was the morning vibe, and I hated it.

  Though not as much as I hated myself for still wanting a taste of him. And fuck, I liked his anger because all I could imagine was him directing that energy into pinning me against the wall and fucking me until I couldn’t walk.

  He had reduced me to a quivering mess when he was near. A mess that wanted nothing more than to feel him stretching me. Not good.

  “You are such a fucking asshole!” I growled, both in frustration at him and myself for letting my hormones take over for a moment.

  “So I’m told. Look, I warned you, Ophelia, that this would happen. For the last month you’ve been safely concealed, but that is gone. You must accept it and learn to live with it, because this is your life.”

  “For the next five years,” I grumbled.

  “No. For life.”

  I blinked up at him. “What?”

  “You think when we divorce they will suddenly leave you alone? You haven’t even begun to live under their scrutiny yet. This was just a tidbit. It will ebb and flow like the tide, but when we divorce, a tsunami will crash upon the shores just as it is now. Their curiosity will be reignited.”

  “Why do they care?”

  “I don’t know. All I do know is that they will follow you, bait you, but you must remain calm and reserved. Don’t give them any fodder. There is a reason I don’t go out often.”

  “A reason for a curtained-off booth.” I was beginning to understand his desire for seclusion.

  “Exactly. From now on, you are not to ever leave without Michael or one of the others driving you. This will calm down, but it will take time. For now, be on guard. And for all that is holy, don’t do anything stupid.”

  I spent the rest of the day stupidly surfing the internet, reading articles and watching videos. The warped way people chose to view me was unnerving. They knew nothing about me.

  Eventually I fell asleep on the couch, the TV playing in the background and my laptop open with the headline: DE LOUGHREY HEAD TO WED WAITRESS.

  When I awoke the next morning, silence greeted me. Atticus had probably turned the TV off, and he was already gone. Not that there was really a way to tell. He came and went as he pleased, saying nothing, though there was a blanket laid over me that wasn’t there before.

  My muscles were sore and stiff from the couch, and I decided the best cure was a run to work it all out. When I arrived after some breakfast, the gym was empty. It wasn’t often that I found another de Loughrey working out, and ninety-nine percent of the time it was Gen—we seemed to be on the same schedule.

  Though one time as I was walking in, my shoulder slammed into the arm of Hamilton, who simply sneered at me before continuing to the elevators. Once when I left the pool, I caught a glimpse of what I assumed were the twins—Silas and Atlas.

  I’d barely gotten the treadmill going when the door opened and Gen stepped in.

  “Morning,” I said with a smile, happy to not be alone. It was then that it hit me just how lonely I’d become if any interaction was welcomed. That, and I was actually really starting to like Genevieve.

  “Morning. How is it living in the limelight?” she asked with a grin.

  My expression dropped. “Terrible. Is your brother always such an elusive asshole?”

  “Yes.”

  We both laughed at that, and it felt good after my strained days with Atticus.

  After a thirty-minute run, we moved over to the Pilates reformers and completed a one-hour online class. I hadn’t felt that strong or that in shape in my life. My already-straight figure was still straight, but I was gaining some tone in my muscles.

  And my ass was popping.

  Maybe I’d find some way to flaunt it in front of Atticus since I remembered how much he liked it.

  “You want to come up for lunch?”

  “Not if he’s there.”

  “He’s not. He was gone when I woke, and I didn’t see him after the morning yesterday. I really think he just wanted to get away from me.”

  “Things are going that well?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I said yes.” It felt good to be able to talk to someone about how I felt after staying silent for so long. I’d confided in her that Atticus and I were basically a marriage of convenience, but I didn’t tell her about the contract.

  “That he’s worth a whole lot of money?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t care about the money.”

  She reached for my arm and halted my steps. “Be real with me. You do care about the money. Everyone does. The question is—what does it mean to you?”

  Thinking about it, she was right. As much as I wanted to say I didn’t care about the money, I obviously did, as I thought about how ten million dollars would change my life. But that was five years out. I didn’t expect the amount of money Atticus was spending on me to prepare me to stand beside him. Just the weight of my student debt no longer hanging around my neck was a relief our agreement afforded.

  “I care about it in that it got me out of my crappy situation. That I wouldn’t have to worry about scraping by anymore. That maybe I could have a breather and figure out what I want to do.”

  “So he was a lifeline.”

  “I guess.”

  “It’s okay to admit it.”

  “I just don’t want people to think I’m with him just for the money.” It was more than the money, right? It was the ghost of a single night that had me imagining fantasies of what life with him could be.

  “Why do you care?”

  “It’s bad enough people are already saying so much shit about me.” I’d turned it off that morning for fear of smashing it when they played the song Gold Digger behind their snarky remarks.

  “And?”

  I scrunched my brow. “Don’t you care what people think about you?”

  She shook her head. “I make them think what I want them to think. That way if I do something wild, they just shrug.”

  “And here I thought you were just a spoiled little bitch.”

  “Meow, little kitty. And you would think right—I am a spoiled little bitch, and I own it.”

  I smiled at her. “You’re also the nicest person in your family.” />
  “Can’t be the hostess if you’re not friendly. Then nobody would come party.”

  Oddly, she had a point.

  “Tell you what—I’m going to take a shower, and then I’ll come up and we’ll order some lunch and chill on that veranda he has.”

  I nodded. “That sounds good. I’m going to do the same. I’ll leave the door unlocked so you can come on in.”

  After a shower, I slid on a pair of shorts and a tank top, ready to see if we had anything for lunch. While I waited for Gen, my phone went off.

  My mom’s number flashed across the screen, and I answered without a pause.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Not your mom,” Lou’s gruff voice replied.

  I froze and thought about hanging up. “What do you want?”

  “What you owe me.”

  “I don’t owe you anything, Lou,” I spat.

  His breath was harsh through the phone. “Listen here, you little bitch. You’re going to get me fifty grand, or I go to the press.”

  In the background, I heard my mother’s voice say, “A hundred grand.”

  I ground my teeth together as the last thread to my mother frayed before snapping. Any relationship we might have had was dead. She was as shitty as her worthless husband.

  “A hundred grand,” he said, his tone loud as he tried to inflect force into it.

  “Go to the press with what?” I asked with little inflection. He was out of his fucking mind if he thought I was going to play his game. He wasn’t getting a dime, and I wasn’t going to allow him to bully me.

  “The media would eat up little miss goody-goody’s past. It’s filled with all sorts of scandalous things.”

  “You’re full of shit.”

  “Maybe, but they don’t fact check that shit. They’ll eat it up, especially with all the photographs I have of you. Especially this one of you kissing your high school boyfriend, Jimmy Varetti. Wasn’t he just convicted of murder? He’s not going to marry you with that kinda bloody baggage tainting his pristine image.”

  The blood drained from my face.

  “By your silence, I’m guessing we have an understanding. Now, be a good little bitch and be useful for something.”

  The line went dead, and I slammed my phone onto the bed as I let out a scream. It bounced, hitting the headboard before settling at the base of my pillow.

  Tears filled my eyes as dread settled in my stomach. There were no skeletons in my closet, Atticus even said there weren’t, but there were. Did he just think they didn’t matter?

  The move wasn’t surprising from Lou, but it was from my mom. I was done with her.

  It all crashed down on me—the anxiety, the loss, and the fear—and tears fell from my eyes as it washed over me. I fell back down onto the bed and curled up in the middle as I let out a sob.

  “Are you okay?” Gen asked as she stood in front of me.

  I didn’t know how long I’d been crying, but it started to abate. I sniffled and wiped away the tears. “No.”

  “Do you need a drink?”

  I let out a laugh. “Fuck, yes.”

  “Good. It’s a deal, then.”

  “Wait, deal? What kind of deal?”

  She disappeared into my closet. “Gen?”

  A moment later she popped out, a Cheshire grin on her face. “Drinks and dancing, just what the doctor ordered.”

  I tilted my head and shook it slightly. “I don’t know about that. It’s three in the afternoon. Besides, Attic—”

  “Atticus can go fuck himself,” she said, cutting me off. “Besides, he isn’t here, and even if he was, he wouldn’t be able to help. By the time we get ready, it’s going to be at least six. Booze and letting loose for once will help tremendously. Your spirits will be lifted in no time, and you will forget all about whatever has caused the waterworks pouring from your eyes.”

  Atticus had steered me away from getting close to Gen, but she was right—I did need to let loose. I needed a break on the outside from being the perfect little de Loughrey in training, and away from the reminder of the shit parents I’d had for the last twenty years.

  “Grab whatever you need, and let’s go to my place. There is nothing in that closet for you, but there is plenty in mine.”

  The moment we were in Gen’s condo, she headed straight into the master bedroom and into the massive closet. I was in a bit of shock about her place, thinking it might be a mess, but it was in perfect order and pristine shape.

  Gen reappeared after a few minutes in her closet and tossed a small scrap of clothing at me. “Here, wear this.”

  I stared down at the dress. It was skimpier than anything I’d ever wear. It was short, and had a cutout, asymmetrical one-shoulder design with an envelope hem. It was a coral color, not my usual.

  And I kinda liked it.

  The music was ear splitting, but it quieted my thoughts. For the first time since my birthday, I was genuinely happy and enjoying myself. The drinks were strong, and my inhibitions lowered as worry flew out the window. I quickly found that I actually liked my future sister-in-law as a person. She came across as a spoiled party princess, but she possessed so much more under that tough exterior, and now I’d started to figure her out.

  It didn’t matter that I knew none of her friends—they welcomed me. More than one handed me a drink, and as my hips swayed to the beat, I felt a body press against mine.

  Time had no meaning as I lost myself.

  To the music.

  To the drinks.

  To the sway of the beat.

  I was free and flying and smiling.

  Then I felt it. The intensity of a gaze I knew very well.

  I stopped dancing and opened my eyes, the smile fading from my face as an angry god stared me down.

  Atticus was wickedly gorgeous in his fury.

  I shook with rage at the photo that showed up on my phone. A photo of Ophelia dancing with Gen in a dress that was too short and too tight, with some asshole’s arm around her waist, had me on my feet and racing toward the elevator.

  I studied it to keep from punching the wall as the cab descended. She held a drink in her hand, her hair matted against her glistening face, eyes unfocused.

  I told her to stay away from Genevieve, and on today of all days when the world was hyper-focused on her, she did the worst thing possible. For all the tamping down I’d done, for all the information I’d had hidden or erased, and it was all for naught.

  She would be scrutinized even harder, dissected, and labeled in the same category as Genevieve.

  Damien was waiting for me at the front door with the car running.

  “Go,” I said as soon as I slammed the door shut.

  There was no need to say more. He was the one who forwarded me the photo, after all.

  Ten minutes later, we pulled up to the front of the club.

  “Meet me around back.”

  “What about security?”

  “Jason is in there, correct?” I asked, needing verification that Genevieve’s bodyguard was where he was supposed to be.

  He nodded. “Michael is also in the background.”

  “Pull him when I get her out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I exited the car and strode toward the entrance. The bouncer didn’t even attempt to slow my pace, giving me a nod as he held the door open. Lights flashing, music thumping, and a crowd going wild—everything I hated about clubs.

  Luckily, finding my sister and my fiancée wouldn’t be difficult—look for the largest group of people. Genevieve better be hiding from me.

  Anger rolled through me, a fire raging as I pushed my way through the crowd. When I made my way past the barrier, I found my Ophelia dancing with a blinding smile, in a dress that left little to the imagination, with a strange man grinding against her.

  I wanted to hate-fuck the hell out of her. Turned on and angry were a bad combination. It was bad enough my anger was at explosive levels. I knew what would happen when I let it out.
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br />   She stopped, her eyes finding mine. The smile faded, and her alcohol fuzzy eyes widened.

  “Atticus,” she said, my name rolling off her tongue in a delicious way. It only made my need to possess her greater.

  I stepped forward, glaring down at her. Fuck! In that moment, I hated her for what I was going to be forced to do.

  My attention shot to the imbecile behind her and his hand that rested on her hip.

  “Get your fucking hand off my fiancée before I break it.”

  His eyes widened, and he stepped back. She never even glanced back at him, what little awareness she held remained focused on me.

  Looming over her, I grabbed hold of her arm. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I seethed, not waiting for an answer as I turned and pulled her through the throng of people.

  “I was just spending time with Gen,” she said as she tried to free her arm from my grip—a grip I was trying desperately to tame in as my anger was at the point of exploding.

  Desperation to hit the man who dared to lay a finger on her burned in my veins. I wanted to wipe him from her skin and imprint my touch until she collapsed from exhaustion.

  A moment later, we crashed through the back door where Damien was waiting.

  “Atticus, you’re hurting me.”

  I spun toward her and pulled her close. “I don’t fucking care.” I roughly pushed her into the back of the car and climbed in after her before the car sped off toward home.

  “Ow,” she whined as she rubbed at her arm. There were dark imprints from my hand, and a wave of guilt rushed through me. I tamped it down before it became anything more than a fleeting notion. She needed to learn, and I was going to make tonight the example.

  Fuck her for making me.

  The ride from the club to home lasted an eternity as my rage simmered. I clenched and unclenched my fists to keep my tightly wound muscles calm and my mouth from expelling the vile vitriol that was to come.

  When we arrived in the parking garage, she got out and followed behind me. I’d already exploded in public once, and I was not about to make that mistake again. Once we were home, she tipsily walked down toward the great room, but I grabbed her again and spun her, pinning her against the wall.