Page 4 of Reckless King

“I need to stay at least another hour,” Roman, my eldest brother, states bluntly, interrupting my thoughts. “And if I need to be here, so do you.”

I can’t resist poking the bear. “Don’t tell me the big bad CEO of the King Group needs his hand held at a party. If that’s thecase, I’m sure there are any number of women here who would volunteer for the job. Although,” I cock my head, “it might not be your hand they want to hold…”

He pins me with his cool gray eyes, and this time I can’t hold back my smirk.

“Handholding isn’t what I need from you,” he says. “What I need is for the King Group leadership to put up a united front. Not my chief of operations running home with his fiancée, and not my chief of marketing disappearing into a dark corner with the nearest bored socialite for the rest of the night.”

Schooling my expression to avoid showing the spike of irritation his words cause, I hold his gaze and take another sip of whiskey. I can’t argue with his assessment. Until recently, that has been my standard procedure at events such as this. But it’s been months since I’ve pulled that kind of stunt, and he knows it, even if he’s not prepared to acknowledge it. “Don’t worry. Thebored socialitesof the world are safe from me tonight.”

With nothing more than narrowed eyes and a nod, he turns back to the ballroom, where New York’s richest and most obnoxious are in full see-and-be-seen mode.

When Delilah pulls away from Cole to stand next to me, I glance at him and grin at the dark expression on his face. Our relationship has improved significantly over the last year and a half, but I’m not sure he’ll ever fully forgive me for my brand of “helping” when he was about to screw up the best thing that ever happened to him.

Speaking of, I turn back to Delilah. “Have I told you already how beautiful you look tonight?” I ignore the growl that comes from my brother.

The corners of her lips tip up. “You did, thank you.” She touches my arm. “Cole showed me your marketing ideas for Genesis-1. I love them. You’re highlighting all the sustainability features while still showcasing the luxury high-rise lifestyle.”It’s not empty praise coming from her, since she’s one of the architects who’ve been working on the project—her second for the King Group.

I nod my thanks at her recognition. To be honest, Genesis-1 almost sells itself. State-of-the-art architecture, cutting-edge technology, unparalleled luxury, and a carbon-neutral footprint—it’ll be a game-changer in New York’s real estate market once it’s built. Construction is still months away though. In the meantime, it’s my team’s job,myjob, to secure as many pre-sales as possible and to make sure cash-flow stays steady and investor confidence remains high.

As I scan the crowd, a tall, willowy blonde catches my attention. Mainly because she’s staring directly at me. Her mouth curves in a slow, seductive smile, and her gaze flashes with an all-too-familiar hunger as she brings her champagne flute to her lips.

She’s not the first woman to try to capture my attention tonight. And not long ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to take her up on her unspoken invitation. She has the look of a woman who’d enjoy being fucked up against a wall and given an orgasm or two to get her through the night. But things have changed. The reputation I’ve gained over the years hasn’t necessarily reflected well on the company. And since my brothers and I took over after Dad’s arrest eighteen months ago, the last thing I want to do is jeopardize its future. Particularly since my relationship with Cole, and to a lesser extent, Roman, is improving again. At twenty-nine, I finally want to stand side by side with my brothers and know I contributed as much as they did.

It’s why I’ve been doing my best to prove I’m reformed. Not that anyone would know, judging by the increasingly ridiculous articles that have been printed about me recently. It’s as if, in the absence of any real scandalous behavior on my part, the tabloids are determined to make up the craziest stories they can.Like the one from two weeks ago. Someone snapped a photo of me standing next to a recent divorcée and her twenty-year-old daughter, both of them smiling up at me, which apparently meant we were moments from indulging in a threesome. I may have done some crazy things in my life, but tag teaming family members is not one of them.

So I merely give the woman a polite smile and continue taking in the scene of glittering excess in front of me. Unfortunately, the next blonde who comes into view is approaching fast, and suddenly, I wish I’d escaped to a dark corner with the first one when I had the chance.

Mom sweeps to a stop in front of us, gracing us all with an icy smile. She’s decked out in a dress as cold a blue as her eyes—and probably her heart.

“Roman, Cole, Tate,” she says, acknowledging our presence. “Delilah.” She hesitates briefly, then continues. “It’s nice to see you again, dear.” It’s interesting that her future daughter-in-law gets seven more words of greeting than her sons. Not that I blame her. Delilah is probably worth more than all three of us put together. Cole did mention a while ago that he thought not having Dad around might soften her a little. Maybe it has, and I’m just struggling to see it.

I take another sip of whiskey as Mom makes small talk that even she’s having trouble feigning interest in. Her focus is on the crowd, ensuring we’re seen by her society friends. In the circles we operate in, appearance is everything. And Mom has always liked the world to think the King family is united, even during the times we’ve been anything but. It’s even more true since she divorced Dad following his conviction for insider trading. Not that I blame her for that. Their marriage was never in more than name anyway. Considering how many affairs Dad had, I’m surprised she waited for his imprisonment before she signed the divorce papers.

Though she’s hardly innocent herself. Both my parents screwed other people throughout their marriage. Although, as far as I know, Dad never made the mistake of leaving permanent proof of his indiscretions.

I’m faced with the proof of Mom’s every time I look in the mirror. While Cole and Roman both have light eyes like Mom and Dad, mine are a distinctive golden brown. Dad passed his dark hair on to both my brothers, and while I could have gotten my blond hair from Mom, hers is a cool platinum, while mine is a warmer, tawnier shade. Even my skin tone differs, holding a natural tan that lingers, even during winter. Despite what it says on my birth certificate, we all know the truth. Not that we ever openly discuss it.

“I hear your father is giving interviews now.” Mom’s words interrupt my train of thought.

“Dad likes attention almost as much as you do,” I throw out, giving her a too-wide smile when she glares at me. My ability to control my mouth around her seems to decline the older I get.

As always, she doesn’t react beyond a sharp look. A reaction would require her to care what I think about her. She merely clears her throat and continues on as if I said nothing at all. “I have no idea what he’s hoping to gain, apart from drawing attention back to his misdeeds and dragging the King name through the mud again.”

“You know what Dad’s like,” Cole says. “Watching us taking over the company and elevating it to new heights is probably driving him crazy. He just wants his name in lights again.”

I snort. “He’s in prison for insider trading, not a string of armed heists. He’s not going to have people lining up to listen to him tell sordid tales about his life of crime.”

“What’s with the attitude tonight?” Roman’s voice is steeped in irritation.

I stare down at my glass, swirling the amber liquid around the bottom of it. I’m honestly not sure. Normally, I’m better at putting on an act at these events. Maybe it’s because, in my quest to become a responsible, committed member of the King family, it’s been months since I’ve gotten my dick wet.

“Late night last night.” I shrug.

Mom sniffs. “I only hope the details won’t appear in the tabloids tomorrow.”

I paste on a smirk. “Don’t worry, Mom. I made sure to screw the photographer who took my photo while I was shooting up in a back alley with those three hookers. I think she’ll say nice things about me in the article.”

From the flare of her nostrils, I’ve legitimately horrified her.

---