Page 19 of Reckless King

She nods again, then turns to head back to the kitchen. Something catches my eye as she goes, and the sight sends ice sliding into my bloodstream. Because there, on one shoulder blade, is a small blue butterfly.

I pull in a long breath through my nose. It must be a coincidence—butterfly tattoos aren’t exactly rare. She’s gone too fast for me to get a good look, but my heart hammers against my ribs anyway. Because my body, if not my head, is sure of what I just saw. I traced over those delicate blue wings only a few nights ago. I can still feel her silky skin under my fingers. Fingers that then buried themselves in her tight little pussy and fucked her until she came all over them.

A lance of guilt spears through me, and my gaze shoots straight to Mark, who’s wearing a proud grin on his face. Shit. Ihave to fight the urge to wince as I imagine how he’d react if he knew what I’d done to his sister.

Possiblydone. There’s no point in getting ahead of myself. I need to get a closer look.

Mark and I sit back down, and I focus on slowing my racing pulse while trying to concentrate on what he’s saying. But it’s pointless. My mind is filled with images and memories from last Friday night as I work to reconcile the woman who was writhing on my lap with the one who was just standing in front of me, expression full of familiar disdain.

I drum my fingers on the table as I wait for Violet to return with our food, my attention constantly drawn back to the kitchen door. Jarrod is back behind the counter, handling the few customers that trickle in, while a young blond woman serves the seated ones. When she drops our coffees off, I thank her absently.

I only snap out of my distraction when I take a sip of the hot beverage. The instant I register the taste, my eyebrows shoot up.

Across from me, Mark chuckles. “Good, huh?”

I take another sip and give a low hum. “Very good.”

“The beans are all sourced from small sustainable farms. Costs more, but it’s worth it. Ethically, and for the taste.”

“I’d agree with that.” This time when I take a sip, I close my eyes to savor the flavor. “With coffee that tastes like this, why isn’t this place packed?”

He sighs. “It used to be. But like I mentioned, I made a mistake with the previous manager. He had great referrals, but he was used to working for large franchises, not small, community-focused shops. I should have been keeping a better eye on things, but…”

“We’ve been keeping you busy.”

He shrugs. “It’s not a good excuse for dropping the ball. But it’s the only one I’ve got.”

“Not worth suing, I suppose?”

He shakes his head. “His actions wouldn’t be considered gross negligence or deliberate misconduct. It was my mistake anyway. Hiring someone who didn’t understand Dad’s vision for the shop.” Grief shadows his expression for a moment before he shakes it off. “He always wanted it to be a community cornerstone, where every cup served not only tasted amazing but represented a commitment to ethical sourcing. Unfortunately, Violet was out of state, and I didn’t check in enough to notice all the little changes the manager was making.” He sighs. “I should have realized sooner, but it was hard… coming back here with Dad gone, you know? I kind of avoided it.” He studies his coffee cup for a long moment, but when he looks back up again, he’s smiling. “Violet will do it. I have no doubt.”

He has so much belief in his sister. It’s obvious in his every word and in the way he looks at her.

In my whole life, has anyone ever had even half that belief in me?

My thoughts are interrupted by the kitchen door swinging open and Violet re-emerging with our meals.

I watch her every move as she makes her way toward us. The club was dark, but from what I can tell, the color of her hair and eyes matches the woman I was with. I take in the rest of her—breasts, hips, legs. Theshapeof her matches too.

Fuck, theshapeof her. A jolt of arousal hits me with so much force that I inhale sharply. I’m bombarded with the mental image of my hands on her body. My fingersinsideher. I will the hot rush of lust spreading through me to dissipate as she places our plates in front of us. I still don’t know for sure it’s her. Not 100 percent.

I’m still studying her, cataloging the angle of her jaw and the curve of her lips, comparing what I see to what I remember, when she says, “Is there something wrong with the food?”

Her question snaps me out of my thoughts. “It’s fine,” I say, picking up the wrap in front of me and taking a large bite. It tastes as good as it looks, but I don’t get a chance to tell her that, because before I can swallow, she aims a final warm smile at her brother—and a tight-lipped one at me—and heads back to the counter.

“Are you okay?” Mark asks as I track her retreating form. There’s no doubt in my mind now. It’s exactly the same tattoo, in exactly the same position.

“Yeah. All good. Looks like Violet’s all grown up.”

What the fuck kind of observation is that?

I should be engaging him in some kind of work-related conversation, then getting the hell out of here, not focusing on his sister.

Mark frowns, watching me a little too intently, as if he can sense a deeper meaning he won’t like behind my words. “It’s not like she was a kid the last time you saw her.”

“No, she wasn’t.” I busy myself with my wrap so I can avoid his gaze. “She just looks different.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, glancing back at the counter where she’s talking to Jarrod. “She had a rough time after Dad died. Withdrew a bit. I’m glad she’s back in New York. I was worried about her for a while.”

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