Page 39 of Reckless King

“Who’s your date tonight, Tate?”

All the way down the carpet, voices call out around us, but Tate keeps us moving until we’re past them and inside the expansive foyer.

“Shouldn’t you have introduced me as your girlfriend?” I ask.

He looks down at me with that devilish grin of his. “Got to keep some mystery going to pique their interest. Plus, if we shove it in their faces right off the bat, they’re bound to be suspicious. I’d rather not make it obvious that this is a PR stunt.”

“Makes sense.” I refuse to acknowledge the burn in my chest at his words.

We make our way through the throng of beautifully dressed people. The atmosphere reeks of money and power. It’s so potent the air is thick with it. Crystal chandeliers drip from the ceiling the way diamonds drip from the necks and ears of most of the women here.

Finally, we approach what is obviously our table. I recognize Cole and Roman, and smile at them as they both push back their chairs and stand.

“Tate.” Cole nods at his brother, then turns his attention to me. “Violet, it’s nice to see you again.”

“You too,” I say.

Roman runs his gaze over me, his attention appearing to linger on where Tate’s hand is resting on my waist. It’s hard to know what the eldest King brother is thinking. His aloof expression and cool eyes give nothing away. He’s in on the plan, so it’s not like he disapproves of Tate’s “girlfriend” being here, but I’m also not convinced he agrees with me as Tate’s choice.

I smile at him anyway. “It’s good to see you again too, Roman.”

To my surprise and reassurance, his mouth tilts up. “We’re glad you could join us.”

A beautiful woman with dark hair and green eyes appears at Cole’s side.

Immediately, he loops an arm around her. “Violet, I’d like to introduce you to my fiancée, Delilah.”

The possessive way he holds her close to him and the way his expression softens when he looks down at her sends a small pang of longing through me.

What must it feel like to be loved like that? I always imagined it was how Dad loved my mom. With how protective he was of me, it’s hard to believe he wasn’t the same with her. The pang of longing is replaced by the familiar ache of loss. One I always get when I think about my mom. I may not have memories of her, but I have hundreds of the way Dad used to talk about her. I can only hope that one day I’ll be lucky enough to be loved the way he loved her—the way I can already tell Cole loves his fiancée.

The woman in question steps forward and envelops me in a tight hug. I’m taken aback by the reception, but before I can findmy bearings and hug her back, she lets me go and grasps my hands.

“I’m so happy to meet you,” she says, her smile bright and genuine. “I’m looking forward to having another woman to spend time with at these things.”

Her warmth immediately puts me at ease. It must be tough for her to be surrounded by these three imposing men all the time.

I smile back at her. “I’m glad I can do double duty as Tate’s girlfriendandas company for you.”

She keeps my hand in hers and tugs, signaling for me to sit in the chair beside hers.

Tate pulls out the chair next to mine and unbuttons his jacket with one hand before settling into it. “Where’s Mom?” he asks Roman, who’s across the table from us.

“She’s sitting with the Jensens tonight.”

“Actually,” Cole says, “don’t look now, but she’s on her way over. She must have spotted you coming in.”

Nerves dance in my stomach at the thought of meeting Tate’s mom, and I force myself not to swivel in my seat to watch her approach.

A tall, striking blond woman glides up to the table, her gaze sweeping over everyone before landing on me. Her eyes are cool, assessing.

“Mom, this is Violet,” Tate says. “Violet, my mother, Beverly King.”

She offers me a nod, her expression unchanging. I guess now I know where Roman gets it from.

I smile brightly and clasp my suddenly sweaty hands in my lap. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. King.”

“The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure,” she says, although I’m not sure her tone backs that up. “I’ve heard about your arrangement with Tate. What an inventive solution to hisproblem.” Her words are edged with a subtle sharpness. “I trust you’re finding it to your… benefit?”

---