Page 30 of Brazen King

I almost don’t want to go.

Which is ridiculously confusing. And my conflicting emotions combined with Killian’s surprising display of compassion keeps me preoccupied as I sneak all the way across his heavily guarded estate. I sling my leg over my all-black Ducati waiting on the far side of his gated community and drive across the bridge to Manhattan once more.

But I’m still lost in thought as I ride the elevator up to the penthouse of my family’s home. And when the doors ding open on the top floor, I only give it half my mind as I quietly slip inside to avoid waking anyone.

The other half remains in Killian’s bedroom—which is why I don’t notice the dark figure sitting alone in the dimly lit living room. And the deep voice makes my heart stop dead in its tracks.

“What took you so long?”

12

NATASHA

Igasp, hand flying to my chest as I whirl toward the single reading lamp still lighting the open space. “Papa! You startled me. What are you doing sitting in the dark like that? And at this hour? It’s late.”

“Is the job done?” he asks, ignoring my questions.

Heat radiates through my cheeks, and I’m grateful that the entry is dark—and I’m still wearing my mask. The embarrassment of my failure and my growing attraction to Killian, which is quickly becoming a bigger problem, consumes me. “I…still couldn’t get past the Kings’ defenses,” I hedge, squirming inside my bodysuit. “I’ll need to find a different time and place, when he’s more vulnerable.”

Papa releases a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in apparent disappointment. But he doesn’t seem to notice the way I cringe over lying to his face. Instead, he stares into the almost empty crystal tumbler of chilled vodka in his hand. Then he downs the liquor in one gulp. “Damn. That Irish bastard has become a royal pain in my side. I want you to try again tomorrow.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Standing with a grunt of effort that makes him sound far older than he is, he gives me a soft smile. Then he tips his chin toward the hallway leading to my room. “Off to bed,lapochka,” he says affectionately—and none the wiser about my raging emotional conflict.

Pulling the mask off my face, I pad over to him and press a kiss to his cheek. Then I obey, heading down the hall without another word. Guilt blends with my confusion now, gnawing at my stomach as I close the door to my room and lean against the cool wood.

My eyes slide shut, and I bump the back of my head against the door to rid myself of the laughing green gaze and devilish smile that fill my vision. I need to pull it together.

I can’t be daydreaming about Killian King when he’s the man I’m supposed to kill. And if I can’t, then I won’t just be letting my family down. I could very easily leave us exposed for a territory war.

Who’s to say what Killian’s end game is?And the longer I let our deal continue, the more likely I am to become a pawn in his strategy. I need to get the job done.

Pushing off from the door, I head to my bathroom to get cleaned up and ready for bed.

But even after I snuggle beneath my covers shortly after 1:00 a.m., sleep evades me. Try as I might to remind myself of where my loyalties lie and what my priorities should be, I still can’t shake Killian’s captivating effect on me. He has a far stronger grip on my emotions than I ever would have given him credit for.

And it might just drive me insane.

After far too fewhours of sleep, I roll out of bed with new determination. I can’t speak to my parents about my predicament. I can’t really be open about it with my sister even. But Tatiana’s the only person I trust to give me relationship advice—considering my circumstances.

If I were happily in love with a man my parents approved of, I would look to them as my example for cultivating that love. But what I have with Killian is something else entirely.

It’s a dangerous kind of forbidden desire. One that could utterly destroy my family if it blows up in my face. And for that, I need Tatiana’s cold hard logic and common sense.

She’s bent over a book when I reach the doorway to her room. Her perfect brows press into a soft frown that somehow makes her look just as beautiful in her severity. Her long auburn hair cascades over her shoulder and arm as she braces her chin on the palm of one hand.

“Studying?” I ask, though she’s already finished her degree in business management—which Papa encouraged her to take on top of learning the business from him directly. But my sister is nothing if not thorough, and she likes to be prepared for anything.

Tatiana looks up, the concentration washing from her face as her crystal-blue eyes find mine. And she smiles—a rare expression that could turn even the coldest man into a puddle in a matter of moments. “Something like that,” she agrees, but she flips the book closed without bothering to bookmark her page. “What’s up?”

Glancing down the dark wood and gray walls of our hallway, I check that we’re alone before I step inside her room and close the door. “I had a question for you.”

“Alright.” Tatiana turns, rotating her desk chair as she gives me her full attention.

Taking a pillow from her bed, I plop down on her comforter and hug it to my chest. My typical girl-talk position. Nerves race through my veins because, as close as my sister and I are, we don’t really talk about boys much—not since I first got curious about kissing them.

“Have you ever had feelings for a man?” I ask, cutting right to the chase.

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