Page 56 of Savage

“I should’ve known you’re who I have to thank for his bad mood the last couple of weeks,” East continued as if I hadn’t said a thing.

Pompous little shit.

“Says the guy whose fault it was he was in aperpetualbad mood for four years.”

“Excuse me, three and a half,” East said, sitting up and crossing one leg over the other. “The last part of that time frame I was making him very happy.”

“You and Zac.”

“That’s right—jealous?”

“Stop it,” King said, getting to his feet. “East? Don’t you have somewhere else to be right now?”

“Not really.”

“Then pretend you do.”

East let out a put-upon sigh and got to his feet, making sure to straighten his suit jacket.

It was still such a shock that King was in a committed relationship with not one, but two men. But the biggest surprise was that one of them had ended up being the self-proclaimed “leader” of the Park Avenue Princes—a name that still followed the group of Astor University grads around even after they’d gone off into the real world.

It was kind of fitting, I supposed, since they’d merely been playing in our kingdom.

East strolled toward me as though he didn’t have a care in the world—including King’s order. But deep down we both knew if there was one person he obeyed, it was Tyrone Kingston.

East understood what he had, and despite his arrogant ways, he always respected Libertine’s hierarchy. In this instance he wasn’t a boyfriend, he was a member—and what was about to be said in this room was King’s business.

“I’m going.” East stopped looked me dead in the eye, which was impressive, considering he knew just how lethal I was with my bare hands. “Good luck,” he said before exiting the office, his smug expression telling me I was going to need it.

“Tell me something, Lachlan,” King said. “Are you going out of your way to think up new ways to piss me off?”

So it seemed that word of last night’s little reconnaissance mission had found its way in house, and I wasn’tthatsurprised, considering nothing went on in this city without King’s knowing about it.

It was a little alarming how quickly he’d found out, though. Lucien wouldn’t have told him, too worried about his own ass, so howdidKing find out?

Not that it mattered. He knew, which meant I was fucked. And as he was giving me this dressing-down in private, it wasn’t going to be the verbal slap-down I’d gotten away with the last couple of times.

“Nothing to say?” he said.

“Nothing you’re going to like,” I admitted, because while I might not tell King about my plans or ideas ahead of time, I’d never lie about them if asked point-blank.

“Then why don’t we start with, are you okay?”

I narrowed my eyes, the question so far from left field that I was caught off guard.

“You look like shit,” King continued, running his eyes over my crumpled pants and untucked shirt, and I couldn’t argue with him. I remembered pulling off my wig last night, and somehow removing my contacts, but everything else remained. “And the security feed shows you were twitchy as hell when you returned from your little outing with your journalist friend, so I’m going to ask you again. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” King stood and came around his desk. “Then do you want to tell me what you think you’re doing walking into a drug dealer’s club without any backup or telling anyone?”

“I got a lead on Mick’s whereabouts and thought I’d check it out.”

“A lead?”

“Yes.”

“From this journalist friend of yours.”

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