Page 85 of Reckless King

“Violet. How lovely of you to join us tonight.”

“I’m very happy to be here to support such a wonderful cause.”

She lifts her chin. “Yes, of course.”

Tate cuts in. “Since Violet is my fiancée now, Mom, you should expect to see her at all these events.”

Beverly frowns, and her brows dip just a little, as if in question, as she looks between me and her youngest son. It’s clear she’s confused about his statement. She knows this is fake, everyone at this table does, but Tate has a knack for sounding way too convincing.

“Yes, well. I’ll look forward to that.”

There’s so little inflection in her tone, and her face is so expressionless, it’s hard to know how to take that comment.

Tate stands, turning to me and holding out his hand. I take it, and he wraps his warm fingers around mine, then tugs me to my feet.

“Well, Mom. It’s been a delight, as always. But I think I’d like a dance with the future Mrs. King before being forced to make awkward small talk with you over lobster and caviar.”

Beverly purses her lips, but there’s no cutting comment in response. She merely sniffs and settles herself elegantly in one of the empty seats.

With a nod to the rest of our table, Tate tugs me toward the dance floor. He looks down at me as we go, his golden eyes dark. “I’m sorry about that. I told you, my mother doesn’t have a warm bone in her body.”

I tighten my hold on his hand as an ache forms behind my ribs. I may have lost both my parents, but I never doubted that they loved me. I barely remember Mom, but Dad kept her memory alive for me with his words and stories and the framed pictures that hung on his wall.

On the dance floor, Tate pulls me in and holds me close. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t complain about my parents when you don’t have yours.”

I put my hand on his arm. “You can talk to me about anything. I miss my parents. I always will. But I know how luckyI was to have had them. It hurts that they’re gone, yes, but I imagine it’s a different kind of pain feeling like you didn’t have them at all, even while you were living in the same house.”

Eyes blazing, Tate tightens his hold on my waist and kisses me. It’s the first time he’s done it without asking. Not that I would have said no. I don’t even care that we’re on the dance floor of a ballroom filled with the rich and powerful. In fact, I welcome it. I want everyone to see how much Tate wants me. Because even though we’re still in this arrangement, even though there’s still an end date, our connection is real. It has to be. The heat searing between us, the way his lips claim mine. It might not be love, but whatever it is, it’s real.

I tangle my fingers in his hair and press myself against him. When his hands drop dangerously, low, his fingers brushing the curve of my ass, I whimper into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss and drops his forehead to mine, heaving out harsh breaths. “What are you doing to me, butterfly?”

I hope he doesn’t expect an answer, because I don’t have one for him.

We stay like that, swaying until the song ends.

When the music fades, he steps back. “Want a drink?”

Still floating an inch off the ground, I smile up at him. “I’d love one. But I need to freshen up first.” I have no doubt he’s kissed all my lipstick off.

“I like this look on you.” He drags his thumb over my bottom lip. “Freshly kissed. Makes me wonder how beautiful you’ll look when you’re freshly fucked.”

I let out a shaky breath. I get the feeling he’s going to find that out very soon.

Hand in hand, we exit the dance floor. We only go our separate ways when I make my way to the bathroom and he heads to the bar. The women’s bathroom is just as extravagantas the rest of the hotel—hardly a surprise—and I take my time reapplying my makeup.

After returning to the ballroom, I work my way back through the crowd to the bar, only to jerk to a halt when I see Tate standing next to that woman from the first gala, Amy. She looks gorgeous, with a siren-red dress hugging every curve. Jealousy coils like a living thing inside me. It shouldn’t, but it does. The wondering if Tate has slept with her, the wondering if, even though I have his ring on my finger, she’s shared something with him that I haven’t, scores bitter nails down my spine.

I force myself to move toward them. Tate has his back to me, and she’s too busy batting her lashes at him to notice me. As I get closer, I can make out the sound of her silvery little laugh, then her words.

“I never would have believed it if I didn’t see it myself. Tate King, permanently tamed.” She reaches out and places her fingers lightly on his forearm. “I have to say, a coffee shop owner is not who anyone expected you to end up with.”

I stiffen but relax again a moment later when Tate moves his arm from under her hand.

“I can’t imagine you’ve spent that much time thinking about the woman I’d finally make mine.”

“I suppose it’s more that we just never expected you to make anyone yours at all. But of course, everyone is so pleased that you have.”

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