Page 2 of Brazen King

The smug bastard is definitely trying to get a rise out of my father, and if we weren’t standing on a public stage, in the middle of a high-society event, I might just give him a piece of my mind—if I’m feeling merciful.

Beside me, Tatiana stiffens, her hands balling into fists. But she’s flawless in maintaining her public persona—the demure young lady.

Clasping my hands before me to mask their shaking, I try to follow her lead and lower my gaze.

“Mr. King, this is acharityevent,” my father growls. “Wherecivilizedsociety might have a chance to demonstrate our generosity. I recommend you sit down before I have you removed.”

“I thought my suggestionwasrather charitable,” Killian says cooly, and his dancing green eyes find mine before he gives a flirtatious wink. “After all, your daughters are rare beauties. Gents, wouldn’t you be willing to pay a generous sum to make one of them your bride?” Turning back toward the stunned audience, Killian spreads his arms wide as if his proposal will be met with boisterous applause.

And to my disbelief—and utter disgust—he gets a rather enthusiastic response.

“Despicable little worm,” my sister growls quietly beside me. And though she might appear poised—unaffected even—I can feel the fury coming off her in waves.

Despicable Killian might be.But little?

I don’t think so. He might not be as massive as the dark, brooding sidekick he drags to every social event with him, but Killian is by no means small.

And as I size him up, I can’t help but assess the fact that he’s large enough to account for two of me. And every inch of him looks like it’s built of solid muscle.

Not that I couldn’t take him…

“Mr. King, I won’t ask again,” my father growls.

His men creep through the crowd, heading toward the dance floor to remove Killian by force.

Releasing a low, amused chuckle, the Irish kingpin turns to face my family once again. “Alright, Boris. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. It was just a suggestion.” Then he casually strolls back off the dance floor, hands in his pockets, like he didn’t just turn my father’s event into an abhorrent spectacle.

My ears ring, my skin tingling from the intense spotlight. And it feels like Tatiana and I are suddenly on display rather than standing supportively behind our parents.

I’ve never seen anyone disrespect my father so blatantly, and from the gawking faces, I would say that’s true for almost everyone in the room.

But not Killian’s right-hand man. Though scowling fiercely enough to burn a hole through cement, the hulking sidekick looks entirely unsurprised. And when Killian sinks back into his chair and leans close to murmur something, his sidekick merely shakes his head.

It’s torture remaining on stage as my father tries to bring the charity train into its station, but the interruption has done an effective job of disturbing the peace.

And it’s with intense relief that Tatiana and I silently slip behind the curtain into the back room of our family’s event space ten minutes later.

Fingers clutching at the ribbing of my corseted black cocktail dress, I breathe heavily.

“Get it together, Natasha,” Tatiana warns, glancing over her shoulder to make sure we’re alone.

“That bastard,” I hiss. “What the hell was he playing at?”

“He’s revving up for a territory conflict,” Papa states as he joins us in the darkened area backstage.

Tatiana glances at him sharply, and beside him, our mother looks stiffly unamused.

“We can talk about this later,” she says calmly. “Right now, we have more money to squeeze out of our guests.” Cupping my chin in one hand and Tatiana’s in the other, she lifts them with gentle reassurance. “Game face, girls. And go charm the charity out of that roomful of billionaires.”

“But if that Irish bastard bothers you, feel free to knee him in the balls,” Papa growls.

That actually makes me laugh, and I kiss each of my parents on the cheek before heading out to the front room to do as my mother instructed.

Tatiana and I split up to cover more ground, and she seamlessly settles into a group of mingling guests, thanking them for taking the time to attend the event that means so much to our family.

I do the same, turning my attention to Evan Hanson’s table of Fortune 500 CEOs. The atmosphere is pleasant enough, but my scalp tingles with an undercurrent of masculine interest I’m not usually faced with so directly.

Tatiana’s the one who draws every man’s gaze. But it would seem that all it took was a simple suggestion from Killian to put me in that category as well.

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