Page 58 of Guarded King

“Place your phone, keys, and all the contents of your pockets in the locker. Then pass through the metal detector.”

Having been through this process half a dozen times over the last three years, I quickly lock my phone and keys in the small metal locker behind me, then walk through the metal detector without incident.

“All good, Mr. King,” the man says. “Follow the blue line on the floor. It will lead you to the visitors’ room.”

I nod, clip the pass to my shirt, and make my way through the facility, slowing only to be buzzed through the few security doors along the way.

The visitors’ room is simple and functional. The walls are painted soft beige, as if the color choice can soften the reality of where we are. There are partitioned areas to allow at least the illusion of privacy, with cushioned chairs and small tables.

I choose a table, then wait until the guards escort Dad in. He’s wearing a dark green uniform, and the lines on his face look deeper than when I last saw him six months ago. The gray at his temples has spread quickly as well. He looks older. As if every month in here is the equivalent of a year on the outside.

He assesses me as he approaches, wearing the same condescending expression he used on me and my brothers when we were growing up. I’m not that teenage boy anymore, though. The one who spent too many years believing I needed to earn his approval. These days, that’s the last thing I want or need.

I don’t stand as he gets to the table, and I don’t move to shake his hand.

He doesn’t bother either. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he asks with a barely concealed sneer as he pulls out the chair across from me and drops into it heavily.

Leaning back, I cross my arms over my chest. “Just thought it was time that I did my familial duty.”

He snorts. “What do you know about duty?”

The tension that’s plagued me all morning returns full force, the muscles in my neck and shoulders tightening, but I don’t physically react to his words. “Duty to my family name. Duty to the company. Those are the only lessons of value you ever taught me.”

“Is that what you call stealing the company out from under me? Duty?”

“You lost control of the company because of your own damn greed. But I’m not here to rehash that old story.”

He folds his arms over his chest, mimicking my posture, his eyes, the same pale gray as mine, narrowing. “Then why are you here?”

Good question. Why do I keep coming back? Tate never visits. Cole stopped after only a couple of trips, when he realized it was masochistic to force himself to spend time with the man in front of me. So why do I find myself sitting here again?

When I don’t answer, he leans forward. “You’re here because, what? You think you have something to gloat about? I still read the news. You’re going to run the King Group into the ground, and when the shit hits the fan and share prices crash, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

I don’t rise to the bait. “Share prices are the highest they’ve been in over a decade.”

The laugh that escapes him is harsh and ends in a cough. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath, but when he does, his words are just as sharp. “And how long will that last? You think you won’t make a mistake?”

I stare him straight in the eye. “Is that what you call what you did?”

He rests his forearms on the table. “I see that look on your face. You think you’re better than me. But you’re exactly the same. I made you who you are.” He thumps his fist on the table, his face going alarmingly red before paling again. “All this eco-friendly, tree-hugging bullshit is turning my company into a laughingstock. The King Group builds luxury real estate. We don’t cater to hippies.” His chest heaves as if his anger is stealing the air from his lungs.

With a deep inhale, I do my best to rein in my own temper. “You’re behind the times if you think luxury real estate doesn’t need to feature sustainable technology. The King Group may have been on top when you were sent here”—I throw my arms out wide—“but the share value was already starting to fall. Cole, Tate, and I shored the company up.Weundid the damage you caused.Weare what’s keeping the King Group where it should be.”

He glares at me, and I return the look.

“You’re weak. All of you,” he eventually says. “Two damn sons and a bastard, and none of you have the balls to be the men I taught you to be. Don’t think I didn’t hear about your brothers and their women,” he spits. “Marriage should be a strategic move. Why tie yourself to one woman if there’s no business advantage to it? If your brothers wanted to fuck whoever they wanted on the side, they could have. What the hell benefit is there in marrying an architect and a coffee shop owner?”

I grit my teeth, angry with myself for once believing the same bullshit. For letting his poison influence me—and my relationship with my brothers—even after I found out what kind of man he was.

“The company can thrive without Cole and Tate having to sell themselves or their happiness.”

He scoffs. “You think love creates happiness? You know better. Your little marriage rebellion proved that, didn’t it?” Heshifts forward, gripping the edge of the table. “Or have you forgotten how easily Katherine played you?”

“I haven’t forgotten. Or forgiven.”

I’m not just referring to Katherine, and he knows it.

His laugh is sharp and ugly. “You should thank me. You needed that damn lesson.” He rocks back on his chair, the sly, smug smile I remember so well stretching across his face. “And it worked, didn’t it? I saw the announcement of Cole’s engagement to Kenneth Berrington’s daughter. You had your hand in that, didn’t you?” He doesn’t wait for a response, nodding to himself before continuing. “I figured. It’s exactly what I would have done. You’re my son, whether you like it or not. It’s in your blood to play the game as it’s meant to be played—hard and ruthless.”

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