Page 5 of Lost Kingdom

Whether she likes it or not.

2

AUBREE

DINNER WITH A GANGSTER. WHAT THE HELL HAS MY LIFE COME TO?

“Where was he when you went looking for him?” The moment I have the chance, I snag Minka’s wrist and drag her toward a deserted corner of the dining room Felix selected for his wedding night. I try to be gentle. I swear, I do. But rage and curiosity co-mingle in my blood and bubble up to spill onto my boss.

My best friend.

My shield, now that I’m in New York.

A terrifying adventure, considering the history I’ve shared with theformermafioso’s son. And by history, I mean my complete exclusion, because Tim refuses to allow me anywhere near the old life he lived before moving to Copeland.

“He was late to his own brother’s wedding,” I hiss. “And then he was cranky when you dragged him in. What was he doing?”

“He was on the phone.” Peeling her hand from mine and breaking our connection, Minka straightens her back, smoothing her gown and reaching up to tuck silky locks of hair behind her ear. She’s perfect and dignified and beautiful. Everything a Malone looks for in a woman, proven by Archer’s choice in a wife. By Felix’s. And Micah’s.

And then there’s me… frumpy, colorful, uncoordinated, and a little too non-conforming to fit the mold. Tim sort of wants me. But he doesn’t. He wants to control. But won’t claim. He’ll boss me around. But he makes damn sure not to spend time with me alone.

God forbid he accidentally succumbs to everything we both want.

This—we—are a whole friggin’ mess I long ago grew tired of. Because loneliness isn’t nearly as crippling as rejection. And rejecting me is his first instinct, always.

“It was a work thing,” Minka guesses, punctuated with a shrug of her shoulders. “He said something about removing someone’s supply. Don’t worry,” she adds, accepting a flute of champagne when a server wanders by. “He wasn’t talking to a woman.”

I take a glass too, scowling behind the lip as I bring it up and sip the fruity concoction that bursts onto my tongue. “I didn’t ask about a woman. I didn’t even hint at it.”

“Liar,” she snorts, sipping and ‘ahh’-ing when the cold liquid rolls along her throat. “Shit, that’s really tasty.”

“I didn’t say anything about another woman.”

“I mean… I’m pretty sure you did, back while Felix was speaking his vows. But all that aside, I know you hold a grudge about that last one he was seeing.”

“He dated her to piss me off.”

“Youweren’t dating yet,” she counters with a grin. “Makes him a prick. But not a cheater.”

“We’re still not dating. So, by your logic, you’re saying he can hook up with someone tonight and that would be okay?”

“No.” She turns to rest her back against the wall, studying the crowd of wedding guests who approach the bridal table and extend their well wishes. The envelopes exchanged, stuffed with cash. Or checks. Or hell, favors, perhaps. I don’t know. I’m staying out of it. To the men who kiss Felix, once on each cheek, and those who take Christabelle’s hand and press a chaste peck to her knuckles.

Because if anyone, man or woman, is too free with how they touch her, they’ll quickly find themselves without a hand completely.

“I think him giving you the emeralds in the summer changes things. If he hooks up with someone else now, then I might kill him myself.” Sincere in her words, she brings her focus across and stops on me. “He made his feelings clear. By giving you the hair clip, he was saying he wants you, he loves you, and now he’s claiming you.”

“But he hasn’t claimed me! He stalks me. He bosses me around and pushes me places if I’m not moving fast enough. He thinks he gets to decide everything I ever do, but that’s not romance. That’s just a dude unwilling to share his sandbox.”

“Sure. And as the toy in said sandbox. I see your strategy when you tell him you should have picked a different Malone.” Snickering, she pushes off the wall when Archer crooks a finger. But she adds, before she’s too far away, “It was a bold move. Ineffectual, though. Everyone knows you want him. He wants you. It’s just that you never want each other at precisely the same time. So now it’s on you to decide when, or if, you’ll let him romance you.”

My phone buzzes in the tiny purse that dangles from my right wrist, the chain holding it to my limb vibrating with the incoming call. It could be work. In fact, it’sprobablywork. But I’m on the wrong side of the country to accept a dead body laid out on my autopsy table, so I open my bag with a fast flick of my fingers and fish the device out before my caller hangs up. But when I expect the screen to read ‘George Stanley Medical Facility’, and instead it says ‘Katie’, I allow myself a moment to cast Timothy Malone and all his goony family members aside. Instead, I hurriedly accept the call and drag the phone to my ear. “Sissy! How are you?”

“I walked in on Mom and Dad having sex again.” Like word vomit, she drops her sentence in my lap and leaves it for me to hold. “Aubs! They were going hard. It was doggy style and everything.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I spy a door that will lead to the hallway, away from the music and people and ass-kissing chatter between one mobster and another—how is this my life??—then I start that way and bring my drink along for the ride. “I don’t need to know these things, Katie! People have sex. It’s fine. But it’s private. Don’t talk about it!”

“But it’sourown parents. Nobody needs to know about that. I don’t need to hear it. And I sure as hell don’t need toseeit! I already called Eli; he said I was overreacting. And Duane isn’t answering.”

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