Page 47 of Exposed

But he stops mid-demand.

Voices.

I hear voices, and not friendly ones. I can’t make out what they’re saying. Every blind is drawn and I can’t see outside other than a silhouette standing beneath the light outside my door.

“Who are you?” Randall demands.

I get another knock, but this one isn’t demanding or angry. It hits me somewhere deep and feels like a promise when it’s followed by my DEA agent’s deep timbre. “Baby, it’s me. Open up.”

I exhale and rest my forehead on the door before I turn the deadbolt with shaky fingers. When I pull the door open, I find King and Rand facing off.

I focus on the man I spent most of my day with. He’s glaring at Rand before he barely throws me a glance. “Who’s this guy?”

Rand crosses his arms and doesn’t wipe the smug expression off his face.

I know it well.

I hate it.

And I hate him.

Mom might have raised me in a southern home with manners and piano lessons and the skills to plant my own garden should I ever need to live off the land, but she did not raise me not to hate.

She raised me to be honest. And not just honest to the rest of the world.

But more importantly, honest with myself. Maybe it came from what my father did to her. The way he strung her along, and thenpushed her into the shadows when she found out she was pregnant with me.

Mom always told me it’s okay to feel what you feel. And if someone has wronged you, hate is okay. They deserve to be hated.

Don’t rob yourself of your true feelings, she’d always say.

I’m not sure that was healthy or politically correct or even emotionally beneficial, but it’s all Mom.

And when it comes to Randall Becerra, hate is well deserved.

“Goldie,” King bites. “Who the hell is banging on your door.”

“Goldie used to work for me,” Rand states.

My gaze shoots to him. “I never worked for you. If anything, you worked for me.”

If looks could kill, I’d be a bloody mess on the floor. Rand is livid.

King hikes a brow and nods. He’s impressed. If he thinks I’m acting and this is a part of our new arrangement, he’s mistaken. But then again, nothing is an act other than me professing my love and being engaged to Daniel. He’s the one carrying most of the lies.

King focuses his attention back on Rand. “You work for Dex?”

Rand nods. “It’s Mr. Carter to you and the rest of society. And I know who you are.”

King shrugs. “A lot of people know who I am. The people who really know me know not to be banging on my fiancée’s door. Not after dark, not before dark, not fucking ever. The fact I walked up and you were trying to break in tells me you do not know me at all.”

My mouth goes dry.

King doesn’t stop talking nor does he refer to my older half-brother properly the way Dex demands of everyone around him. “I have a meeting with Dex tomorrow night. You’d better believe I’m going to bring this up with him. If he wants my business, no one touches Goldie. No one,” he emphasizes.

Rand brings a hand up to stroke his jaw, shifting his glare to me before it settles back on King. “You have it all wrong. Mr. Carter doesn’t need anyone’s business. It’s the other way around. Everyone needs him.”

I’d like to huff a laugh, but poking the bear is the last thing on my to-do list if I want them to believe that King is the love of my life.

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