Page 59 of King of Depravity

That’s when Killian’s phone rings. “Triston.”

I lift my head, hearing the tension in Killian’s voice. That’s new. He pushes off his stool, heading for his office again. “There is no problem,” he grits into the phone. “I already told you.”

I drop my paint brush onto my palette, my head turning as I strain my ear. I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but clearly there is some issue between Killian and his brother.

Not able to hear, I walk over to the sink instead to rinse my brush. I’ve been at it for hours. Dinner is coming soon, and it seems foolish to dive back in now that my concentration is broken.

I’m nearing the end, where then it will just be tweaking until I finally just make myself stop and call the piece done. It’s been so long since I got to paint like this, working for hours at a time to complete a painting. It’s been wonderful.

Setting the brush aside, I start to clean up my paints and turn my easel so Killian can’t peek.

But that’s when the news catches my attention.

“The body of a man found dead in his hotel room has been identified. Preston Wingate, member of the American legacy family of the same name, was found dead early yesterday morning, in an apparent accident.”

I go still as a picture of Preston flashes across the screen. He’s on a yacht dressed in a nautical sweater and collared shirt, sporting wind-blown hair and a charming smile.

The blood drains from my face.

When Rush said that Killian “whacked” Preston, surely he didn’t mean this? The reporter said it was an accident.

I shake my head, my trembling hands slowly setting the palette down on the floor. It has to be a coincidence that Preston is dead. Right?

But my insides quake as I piece together some of the details. Killian tucking me in my bed. Not staying with me. That was Friday night. Preston was found Saturday morning…

I find my shoes and still wearing my paint-covered leggings and bright orange tank top, walk out the front door to the elevator.

I don’t know where I’m going, but it doesn’t matter. I need a minute to think, a minute that Killian is not there to tempt me, while I figure out what the hell is going on and just how bad I’ve messed up.

The ding of the elevator sounds through the hall making me jump. But I step in and quickly press the button to close the door.

Once they slide shut, I squeeze my eyes closed, my heart hammering in my chest. I think I’ve made a terrible mistake…

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

Killian

I hearthe elevator ding even as Triston is barking in my ear. “It’s a problem that Chloe knows you’re involved with Preston’s death. I know you like her, but you cannot allow a woman you’ve known for a few days destroy our family, Killian.”

Words crowd my mouth. There is so much I could say…but none of it would help, so I hang up.

Triston can go fuck himself.

It’s not that I don’t care about my brother. I’ve given myself wholly over to my family. But Chloe is where my heart will live, I know it. I’ve always been this way. One instance can change my whole world, pivot my entire view, and then…. My path is set. When I feel, I feel with every fiber in my body.

I walk out of my office, my papers on the counter, her brushes in the sink, but Chloe isn’t here.

“An investigation into the death will be conducted.” The announcer on the telly chirps, her co-announcer clucking his tongue.

I look at the telly, seeing the smiling face of Preston fucking Wingate staring back at me. Cold dread runs down my back. Fuck.

Running into my bedroom, I do a quick search for Chloe before I’m pulling on my boots.

It’s not quite eight, but the sky is darkening, and I need to find Chloe before the sun sets. I don’t want her out there alone in the dark.

I know she’s spent years out in Vegas alone, but it makes me crazy, and that was before…

Before I dragged her into this whole mess.

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