Page 30 of Queen Of Dark Money

Butin my bed?

Thatwas a mortal sin.AndI’dmake her pay for it.

Iknew deep down this was a stupid hill to die on, but drunk me was a drama king, andI’ddonned my crown and was sliding into full battle gear.Iprepared to go to war with this woman who was quickly becoming more than a nuisance.Shewas a full-blown pest, an infestation of irritation and frustration, and she’d only been here for twenty-four hours–no, less.

TheseSinclairswere beginning to piss me the fuck off, every single one of them.

Ijust hoped theKingsdealt with them sooner rather than later.

Withnothing on my mind but locating this pest and demanding retribution, or restitution, or whatever r-word it wasIwas in search of–my brain was a bit addled still, and it was hard to form a coherent thought when blinded by rage and drunkenness–Imarched through my penthouse suite, finding her not in the guest room, either of the upstairs bathrooms, nor in the hall closet.Istomped down the stairs, my head pounding but ignored for the moment.

Thekitchen was empty, and so was the living room.Ifnot for the chill breeze wafting through my house that most certainly didn’t belong there,Iwould have missed her entirely.

There.

Thebalcony on the far side of my first floor was lined with glass windows and two doors, one of which stood open halfway, the sheer curtains waving in the night air like a gently flapping banner.Asign, like a beacon–she’s here!Comeget her!

Itfelt like an eternity to cross the room and curl my fingers around the door frame.Still, somehow,Imanaged, and the cool steel felt reassuring under my palm asIopened my mouth, prepared to berate the bitch who’d stolen my snacks and then sacrilegiously crushed them to dust in the middle of my bed.

Butinstead of rage, my heart leaped in my chest, andIstopped dead in my tracks, confusion warring with other emotions at the sight of her.

Shelay on her side, curled up on my fancy-ass chaise lounger, a book clutched to her middle.Hergorgeous waves and curls were askew around her head, framing it like a masterpiece on the wall of some gallery.Mostpeople in their sleep had a relaxed, soft look to them, but she actually seemed moredisturbed at rest than she had when they’d first taken the bag off her head and revealed her to me.

Freshtear tracks trailed down her cheeks, and even drunk,Icould make out the stray droplets still clinging to her lashes, barely holding on as her chest heaved with a broken, stuttering sigh.

“Hey.”

Shedidn’t answer, andIwasn’t about to wake her if she was actually sleeping.Iwas a dick, andIwas mad, butIcould tell when someone was at their limit.

Iwasn’t heartless.

Justpissed off.

Witha heavy sigh and a roll of my eyes that made my head hurt,Icrept over to where she lay in the fetal position, holding herself together with a book and a prayer, and lifted her effortlessly into my arms.

Okay, so maybe not effortlessly.Iwas only human, and a drunk one at that.Still.

Shedidn’t weigh much, or maybeIwas feeling the superhuman effects of drinking too much; who knew?Somehow,Imanaged to get her back in the house and into the guest bedroom bed without a fuss.Almostbelatedly,Irealized she was wearing my fucking clothes, but for reasonsIcouldn’t pinpoint, the fact that she’d invaded my privacy and stolen clothes wasn’t as aggravating as it should have been.

AsIpulled the covers up over her, a single hand shot out and gripped mine, causing me to stumble back and fall on my ass, slamming my head into the nearby dresser with a resoundingthud.

Fuck, that stings.

Theroom was starting to spin again, and my bed was a mess, so instead of tempting fate by trying to clean out my sheets while inebriated,Isimply crawled over to the bedI’djust laid herdown in, curled up beside her, facing the wall, and prayed my head didn’t hurt this badly whenIwoke up again.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

KENZIE

Whoturned the fucking sun on?

BrightnesslikeI’dnever known streamed in through the open curtains on the far wall, slanted over my eyes in such a directly painful manner it made me want to growl.Idid just that, slamming my pillow over my head in an effort to escape the light.Ineeded more sleep.Justa few more hours, andI’dbe home free.

Thatwas allIneeded.

Anotherfew hours to pretend this was all a dream—a bad one, but a dream nonetheless.

AndthenIheard it.

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