by K. I. Lynn
“Explain.”
Her eyes were wide but unfocused as she stared up at me, her lips parted. “I was just blowing off some steam with Gen.”
“Any phrase that includes you being with Gen needs to be ripped from your vocabulary. You are never to go out with her again. Do you understand me?”
Her brow scrunched, and she pushed at my chest. “No, I don’t. Why is it bad that I spend time with her? She’s your sister.”
“Because Gen brings nothing but bad press, and tomorrow morning your photo is going to be plastered all over the tabloid and gossip columns. That my fiancée was letting loose with the de Loughrey bad girl, and I guarantee it will be the worst photograph you have ever taken. Your image is my image, and I cannot and will not have it mixed up with Gen more than it already is.”
“Oh,” was all she said, her gaze drifting to my mouth. She reached up and unsteadily dragged her fingertips down my lips. “You know, you’re sexy when you’re angry.”
My lip curled up. “As much as I might want to take some of my anger out on your pussy right now, you’re drunk.” Grabbing her arm again, I hauled her to her room. “Drink some water and go to bed.”
Once she was inside and the door was closed, I entered my office, heading straight for the bar. I poured myself a scotch and swallowed it down in two large gulps, then refilled the glass and repeated.
I’d told her to stay away from Gen. It baffled me that she even went out with her. I was going to be spending the next morning trying to cover up this disaster. If she’d just been one of Gen’s friends, it wouldn’t be an issue. The problem was that her finger held my ring we had been announced, and the vultures were looking for any vulnerability to attack.
And she’d presented her jugular.
Now I was going to be forced to show her why I was called the wicked king.
“Fuck,” I hissed.
I knew our arrangement was difficult for her to acclimate to, but I’d kept myself at arm’s length on purpose.
Every day with her weakened me more and more, and I’d begun to regret my decision. Every encounter made me want her more. She’d opened up a part of me I never knew was there—the crack that started the night we met. The one she squeezed her way into.
And in the morning, I was going to kill any notion in her mind that I was a person she could care about.
No, in the morning she would be treated like any de Loughrey who screwed up.
And she would hate me.
A heaviness settled in my chest.
I should have chosen Bridget or Antonia to avoid all this. They were upper class and were familiar with the world in which I circulated.
I wouldn’t have to be the bad guy to Ophelia. I could have kept my longing at a distance without her ever knowing she affected me, and in return, she would never be hurt by me.
Things were already in motion, and I needed another set of eyes. After throwing back the rest of my drink, I dialed Hugo’s number.
After talking to Hugo, I went to bed but only slept about two hours when my phone started pinging with notifications, pulling me from the warmth of my bed.
“Fuck,” I hissed as I glanced over the screen. “Guess I’m getting up.”
The damage was already filtering in. As I suspected, they found the worst representation of her as they could—hair wild, eyes drooped, drink in hand, mouth open, at an angle, some douche behind her, and her fucking ring front and center.
After a shower and dressing, I headed down the hall.
Upon entering the kitchen, I was surprised to find Ophelia up and sitting casually at the island, sipping from a mug and chatting with a maid who was putting away dishes.
“Leave,” I told the maid, who didn’t hesitate to set down what she was doing and walk to the elevator.
“Good morning,” Ophelia said. Her tone held a repentant edge, but I couldn’t let it sway me.
I couldn’t look at her. I hated myself for what I was about to do, and I hated her for making me do it.
The next words out of my mouth were filled with a venom edge that sat like a stone in my stomach. “You’re not to leave the building.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her jump off the stool. “What? Why?”
I turned on her. “Because I said so.” I stepped forward, towering over her. “You forget that I am the head of this family, and that includes you. Last night, you fucked up, and now you have to pay the price.”
“But—”
“No fucking buts, Ophelia! Just as I told you last night, if you can even remember, your face is plastered all over every gossip website, magazine, and news show. You were even on this morning’s news. I fucking had to fire the producer who put that through.”
She blinked at me. “What?”
“We own the news station who plastered your drunken face. A station that knows any bad press against the de Loughreys is strictly forbidden. Five people in total lost their jobs today. Because of you. And they won’t be the only ones.”
Her face paled, eyes wide as she sat down. “I didn’t know.”
“No, you didn’t, because you’ve never fucking done the one thing I told you to do—read the binder. It’s not just me in there, but the history of the family as well as every business we own, and at the back is a fucking basic code of public conduct.”
Fuck! Why did she have to make me be an asshole to her?
“Actions have consequences, and when you’re a de Loughrey, it’s other people who are hurt the most.”
“You didn’t have to fi—”
“Yes, I did.” My voice boomed out, echoing around the walls. She flinched at the sound and shrunk back. “You need to absorb the fact that you are no longer some girl from Brooklyn. You will never be her again. Even after this is all over, wherever you go, you will still be a de Loughrey.”
Her eyes were filled with tears, and it tore at me. I fucking hated that it affected me so. That she had me caring so much for her to feel guilt and anguish. But feel them I did and it sliced at my heart, an organ I wasn’t sure I even possessed. Nevertheless, if I had learned anything, it was not to discount the effect Ophelia had on me, undermining my hard-won control and revealing a tender center, even if only to me.
Looking at her right now, into her large, wide doe eyes that beseeched me, I knew that I had to keep it that way.
“Now fucking do as you’re told and stay put so that I can do damage control.”
With that, I turned and headed back down the hall. I heard the scrape of the stool against the floor as she followed after me.
“Atticus,” she called out.
I stopped, but didn’t turn. “What?”
“He threatened me.”
I snapped around to look at her. The tears that filled her eyes flowed freely down her cheeks, and she looked completely distraught.
“Who?” I asked as the darkness came to the surface even more. Whomever threatened her was going to regret it.
“Lou. My stepfather.”
“What did he want?”
“A hundred thousand dollars.”
I gave a curt nod. “Done.” I continued on.
“Done? What do you mean, ‘done’?” she asked, her feet tapping on the wood floors as she chased after me.
“Meaning he will get his trivial money and keep his fucking mouth shut.”
“He won’t! You don’t know him. He’ll say it’s done, but he’ll just keep coming back.”
“He will.”
“Attic—”
I turned to her, jaw clenched tight. “He will, because if he steps even the tiniest bit out of line, if he even breathes your name, he will wish he never met your mother.”
“What do you mean?”
I stepped closer, my gaze connecting to hers. “You still have no understanding what lengths I take in order to safeguard the de Loughrey family name. The lives I’ve ruined. I have a reputation as the wicked king for a reason. By any means necessary, I destroy.”
“Destroy?”
I loomed over her to drive my point home, my glare never leaving her eyes. “I tear things apart bit by bit. Leave the corpse bleeding on the ground as they beg me for help, but I take the knife and continue to shred until there is nothing left. And if I am especially angry, I move on to the family and reputation. You do not cross me, Ophelia.”
Her lips parted, and if it hadn’t happened earlier, it was happening before me now. I watched the switch in the way she looked upon me. The fear and confusion in regard to the man before her. A man she thought she knew at least a little.
Any attachment to me broke. Any positive emotions she bestowed upon me leached out, leaving me cold and empty.
There was no reason to wait for a verbal response that would alter the emotional one that just took place. It wasn’t going to come.
The elevator pinged, and I stepped into the cab.
“Don’t leave. I’ll be back later.”
The doors slid closed, but her eyes never found mine.
It felt like the world stopped spinning and everything came to a screeching halt.
I wasn’t sure how long I stared at the elevator doors after they closed. A numbness had spread through me, and the feeling of a large stone sat heavy in my stomach. I was frozen, unable to move, unable to think.
The man that left me standing there after him—that was the real Atticus de Loughrey.
I knew he could be cold, harsh, but I thought I’d gotten to know him over the last month. I was dead wrong. That was the kid-gloves version, but the man I woke to was the wicked king.
A remorseless man with a dangerous tongue.
A dark ruler striking down any opponent.
I stared at my reflection in the shiny steel doors, wondering how I’d gotten there. To that exact moment.
What the fuck had I gotten myself into? While it was a question I’d been asking myself for over a month, it never rang as true as it did right at that moment.
When he spoke, it was like a siren was going off inside, begging me not to proceed. The cold rolling off him surrounded me, but what froze me was the dangerous flare of anger that simmered below the surface waiting to break free. The target wasn’t me, but that eruption would engulf, spreading like fire until the surface was burned to ash.
My chest clenched at the sudden loss, but I wasn’t sure what the loss was. Of the man I thought I knew? Of the life I thought I was living?
One thing was abundantly clear—the situation was not what I signed up for, and I had to get away. I couldn’t be with that man, with the one who just left me standing there feeling cold and more alone than I ever did before I met him.
I couldn’t live like that. I wouldn’t.
Running to my room, I pulled out my suitcase and an old duffle bag. In them I began to toss in my clothes, leaving anything he had purchased where they were. I continued on, doing the same with my shoes and jewelry, toiletries and anything else I could fit in the bags.
Anything given to me by Atticus was left in place. Every article of clothing, makeup, piece of jewelry, shoes—all of it was left, along with whatever I couldn’t fit in my bags.
It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I left the gilded halls of his palace. I didn’t belong. I knew I didn’t belong, yet still I tried. For him.
But it was all a waste.
I went in blind and naive, but I would leave with the rose-colored glasses shattered and the longing for him tattered on the ground.
Agreeing was a mistake, one that I would rectify by doing what I did best—leaving as quickly as possible.
My stomach twisted as I entered the kitchen. Many of the few good memories of him were there, including my birthday. I shook my head to clear my mind and continued with my goal of grabbing some bottles of water and a few snacks. It would get me by for a little while until I found a place to stay.
That thought stopped me in my tracks.
What was I going to do? Where was I going to go? I had nothing that wasn’t from Atticus, my old bank account emptied and gone.
Was my life really filled with so little? No friends to count on, no family, and no job. For a brief moment I considered hopping on a bus down to my grandfather’s house in Florida, but I didn’t even know where he lived.
Or even if he was still alive.
My mother cut off all contact with my father’s family after the funeral, refusing to let me see them or even talk to them, to the point they eventually stopped trying.
The only option I had was to pull some money off the credit card and use it to find a cash-only hotel. That would be the only thing I took from Atticus.
And my phone. I considered leaving it, but then remembered I probably wouldn’t be able to get out of the building without it, thanks to the tracking tech within the walls.
With one last glance around, I let out a sigh and then headed for the elevator with my arms crammed with bags—my rolling suitcase, backpack, and two duffels.
The lobby was my next hurdle. There was always someone at the concierge desk.
“Good morning, Miss Evans,” Amy said with a smile. At least, I thought her name was Amy.
I gave a tight-lipped smile and a nod before continuing on.
“Would you like me to call Michael for you?”
“No,” I said a little too forcefully. “Thank you, though.”
Once outside, the familiar hum of the city settled me and I headed quickly across the street and as far away from Olympus Tower as I could get. A few blocks away, I pulled out a few thousand dollars in cash—enough to help me along before I could find a place. I then pulled out the sim card from my phone, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it. Minutes later, I was struggling down the steps to the subway and boarding the first train that arrived.
The destination didn’t matter. The only important thing was distancing myself from the rule of the wicked king.
The hoops and contracts every single employee had to go through were simple compared to those pertaining to people brought into the family. We hadn’t even gotten to the complexity of our prenuptial agreement, but I’d already worked most of it out with Rhys.
Now, I was forced to make it even more complicated. I’d been so giving, wanting to protect her, but there had to be consequences. She had to know.
A slew of photos and video were scattered across my monitors. Hugo and Damien had the IT security team working on getting rid of all they could, but the damage was done.
We hadn’t even had our first public appearance, and now we would be entering society with a stigma.
“How did it go?” Rhys asked as he entered my office unannounced.
I glared up at him. “How do you think it went?”
He settled into one of the chairs in front of my desk. “She hates you, then?”
“She would have eventually anyway. I was stupid to think I could keep her from seeing that side of me.”
“The wicked king strikes again. Breaking hearts and lives.”
“I shouldn’t have chosen her.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Hamilton said as he entered, taking the chair next to Rhys.
“What is this?” I asked, surprised to see my little brother joining the conversation.
“Do you actually have feelings for her?” he asked.
“If I didn’t, I would have gone the obvious route.” At least Bridget and Antonia knew how to behave. But while I might not verbally acknowledge my feelings for Ophelia yet, I couldn’t deny them. I was a good poker player, and everyone had a tell. If anyone knew mine, Rhys did, and he wouldn’t waste a single second calling me out, especially with Hamilton being the only audience.
“She was too much trouble from the beginning. Just let her go.”
Rhys remained quiet, seemingly interested in our volley.
I clenched my fingers into a fist. “I can’t.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
I narrowed my gaze at Hamilton. “Both.”
Rhys shook his he
ad. “You never should have taken her to bed that night.”
“It was only supposed to be one night. Maybe two.”
“But then she became your waitress,” Rhys said with a smirk.
Hamilton looked between us. “Waitress? What?”
“You didn’t notice him suddenly going to 130 Degrees multiple times a week for lunch on his own?” Rhys asked.
Hamilton shook his head. “Why do I care where he goes to lunch?”
“Well, he went there to see her.”
I quirked a brow at Rhys. “Since when do you know so much of my business?”
“Since I asked Hugo for information about the girl I was writing a contract for.”
I shook my head. “Fucking Hugo. He shouldn’t have.”
“He doesn’t just work for you, cousin. Besides, I was curious why her name suddenly came back up after so long.”
“At this point, you should just let her go,” Hamilton said with a wave of his hand.
“Why the hell are you so dead set against her, Hamilton? Are you conspiring with Father? Trying to push me to Amelia Harris?” Though I’d managed to kill that avenue. Amelia nor her father had contacted Hamilton or me since I threw her out of Stronghold.
Granted, I had managed to convince many of their suppliers to discontinue working with them. And six of their eight hotels in the works were all stopped dead mid construction all in a matter of hours, and weeks later they were still shut down.
Hamilton’s eyes shot wide, and he shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. It’s just…she’s beneath you.”
“Not yet, she isn’t,” Rhys snickered.
I arched a brow at my cousin. “Really?”
He shrugged. “That’s part of why it got to this so quickly, isn’t it?”
“No.” My anger began to flare again. “If Genevieve hadn’t run into her, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“It would have eventually,” Hamilton countered. “She knows nothing of our world. It’s like you’ve brought a toddler into the family.”
Rhys narrowed his gaze on Hamilton. “She’s rough around the edges, I’ll agree there, but toddler?”
