Page 96 of Reckless King

We’ve been out to a few more formal events and once to a nightclub opening. Every day, I’m more addicted to having her by my side, to watching her smile, to talking about our days over dinner, to feeling her come on my dick every night. And to seeing that ring sparkling on her left hand.

But I’m not ready to talk about what I feel for her or what it means, even with Cole.

I know Violet feels something too. She wouldn’t have given herself to me if she didn’t—there’s not a single part of her that cares about the money, or my name, or the thrill of fucking a King brother. But one concern lingers in the back of my head, tripping me up each time I get close to admitting the truth. Violet was forced into this situation out of desperation. She didn’t choose to be my girlfriend. Or my fiancée. She didn’t choose to live with me. The only choice she’s made is to share her body with me.

And I can’t help but wonder if whatever she feels will be strong enough to survive once the pretense is over. Once the contract ends, will she go back to her normal life and realize that she doesn’t want any part of being in mine?

I won’t know her true feelings on that front until our contract ends in a couple of weeks. So I’ll let our arrangement run its course and enjoy every moment of having her with me. Then, once it’s done, once she’s free to make a real choice, I’ll ask her to choose me. And I fucking hope to God she will.

I stand and smooth my tie. “Violet and I would love to join you for dinner.” I answer his original question while pointedly ignoring his last comment.

If anything, his grin gets wider.

“Send me the details, and we’ll be there to give Delilah a break from you following her around the house like a lost puppy.”

Cole laughs, and I’m smiling as I leave his office. Sophie hands me a small stack of messages on my way past her desk, and once I’m in my own office, I settle in my chair to get through the never-ending piles of work. But not before eyeing the clock and calculating how soon I can leave so I can make it home in time to cook dinner with Violet. It’s become a habit I enjoy. Especially when I can taste her lips, and sometimes other parts of her, between chopping ingredients.

I shake my head at myself. All this time making fun of Cole about his obsession with Delilah, and now here I am, just as obsessed over Violet.

And I don’t even care.

“Wow,”Violet says, head tipped back as she looks up at the high-rise bordering Central Park.

“Don’t tell me you think Cole’s building is more impressive than mine.”

She glances back up at the towering structure, then shoots me a smirk. “Itisan impressive erection. But not as impressive as yours.”

With a laugh, I hook my arm around her waist and drag her into me. I tunnel my fingers into her hair and press my lips to hers. I kiss her until we’re both breathless and I’m wondering if we can skip this dinner so I can take her back home.

As if she senses my intentions, she pulls away and smiles up at me. “Hold that thought until after dinner.”

I grumble but take her hand and guide her toward the front door. The doorman tips his head and greets me by name as he holds the door open for us.

Like my building, this one has an elevator dedicated to the penthouse, and when the doors open into the foyer, I’m hit with a delicious smell that instantly makes my mouth water. With a hand on the small of her back, I lead Violet farther into the apartment and stop alongside her so she can admire the view, which I refuse to believe is any better than mine, even if Cole’s penthouse is two stories higher. Then we continue on to the huge kitchen, where Cole and Delilah are preparing dinner.

I never would have believed the domestic sight in front of me if I wasn’t looking right at it. Delilah is standing at the island, slicing tomatoes while Cole stands behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder.

When she catches sight of us, Delilah beams. Cole, on the other hand, looks mildly annoyed that we’ve interrupted them, even though he was the one who invited us.

Delilah wipes her hands on a cloth, then rushes out from behind the counter and hugs us both. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Can I help with anything?” Violet asks as we follow her deeper into the kitchen.

Delilah’s green eyes are warm. “Thanks, but I think we’ve got it covered.”

“From the look of things, the only thing Cole has covered is you,” I say.

Delilah laughs. “He’s been very helpful, I promise.”

“It smells delicious,” Violet says. “What are you cooking?”

“I’m no Michelin chef, but I make a decent lasagna. We have salad and garlic bread as well,” Delilah says.

Violet smiles. “My favorite.”

“Grilled cheese is mine,” Cole murmurs, and Delilah’s cheeks flush pink.

Interesting. “I didn’t take you for a grilled cheese fan.”

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