Page 52 of Played
“So maybe she changed. Maybe she hid her intentions well.” He shrugs, staring at the portrait of his father hanging on his study wall as though it’s the most fascinating thing he’s seen all year.
“That would take some planning though, right? And there was no evidence of that either,” I say, folding my arms and following his gaze. It’s a well-painted portrait at least, of a man my father hated almost as much as I hate him. I have no idea why it hangs in here, but he stares at it now to avoid my gaze. “No evidence of hidden bank accounts. No evidence of a boyfriend anywhere. Well, anywhere except for this rich guy in New York she told her father about.”
He rolls his eyes. “Why are you boring me with this, Kyngston?”
“Oh, I assumed you’d be interested. You know, because the cops spoke to you about her. You were the one of the last people to see her alive, weren’t you?”
The vein in his neck pulses, and he grinds his jaw before quickly reschooling his features into nonchalance. “Ah yes, I remember being spoken to about that. I’m not sure about being one of the last people to see her alive, considering she is neither missing nor presumed dead.”
“Well, technically you were, because I can’t find any record of her being seen by anyone since. And as for whether she’s missingor dead, that all depends who you speak to. Her father for sure thinks she’s the former, but me…” I tilt my head, scrutinizing him for any hint that he knows more than he’s admitting. “Well, seeing as it’s been fourteen months, I’d say the latter, wouldn’t you?”
He sucks on his top teeth, a sure sign of his irritation. “I think I’d go along with New York’s finest and their professional assessment that she is neither.” Anger bleeds into his tone now too. He’s unable to keep a lid on his temper for too long when provoked—at least when he’s provoked by me.
“She say anything to you about her plans? You know, when she was giving you your lap dance?”
That vein in his neck bulges now. “Why do you insist on pushing me, Kyngston?”
“Because I’m working a case, and you were definitely one of the last people to see her in New York. Possibly the last person she had any meaningful form of conversation with.”
He sneers. “You think I was interested in conversation with some whore while she had her tits in my face, son? Then you really don’t know me at all.”
I know you all too well, you misogynistic, homophobic asshole. “She never mentioned anything to you then?”
“No.”
“Not even when you took her back to her place and fucked her?”
He moves quickly, much faster than I would have given him credit for. His hand is wrapped around my throat and his teeth bared as he snarls at me, telling me everything I need to know. Kyngston Worthington, who regards himself as calm and collected—and he can be, at least on the surface. And at least until he feels confronted and vulnerable.
Had he not taken Cassidy home and done what I accused him of, he would have brushed me off. And the real kicker is heknows that too, which means he also knows he’s revealed far too much. “How fucking dare you accuse me.”
I pry his fingers from my neck and twist them enough to make him wince before pushing him away. “Not accusing you,Dad.Just aware of your nature. Pretty little brunettes are your type, right? I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t taken her home and fucked her.”
His eye twitches again, and he glares at me. Pissed because he’s not strong enough to subdue me anymore and no doubt wondering how far I’d go to see him burn. And the truth is… I don’t know. At this point, I have no idea what I’ll do if I find real evidence that he had something to do with Cassidy’s disappearance. It’s a strange concept to hate one’s parents as an adult yet still have an inner child that craves their approval and affection.
There’s a soft tapping at his office door, and when he barks for the intruder to come in, the housekeeper pops her head inside. “Will you be joining us for dinner, Mr. Worthington?” It takes me a second to realize she’s talking to me.
My father curls his lip. “No, he has plans.”
She mumbles an apology and disappears back into the hallway. For once, his dismissal of me doesn’t sting even a little. I have no plans at all, but I would rather stick needles in my eyeballs than endure a dinner with my drunken mother and my cruel, narcissist father. I make a show of checking my watch. “I suppose I’d better get going then.”
“Seems that would be for the best.” His tone is back to ice-cold calculation. No hint of the temper he lost with me a moment ago. “As would be you leaving that case the hell alone, Kyngston. If you know what’s good for you.” It’s a threat, and we both know it. We also both know it means there’s something for me to find, but he already revealed as much when he lashed out the way he did. Even when he beat me as a kid and chained me inthat goddamn basement to try to “get all the evil out,” he rarely showed anger. Only stone-cold cruelty, which made him all the more terrifying. He only loses his temper when he’s scared.
And I scared him. Cassidy Jones’s name scared him.
And I am going to find out why.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
MASON
It’s only been eight days since I issued my ultimatum, and while that’s not a long time, it feels like a lifetime where King is concerned. Although I knew that he’d never go for my suggestion, a stupid, fucked-up part of me still hopes he will cave every time he strolls into my office, which he continues to do with alarming regularity. That he’ll sink to his knees and tell me he’s got the worst case of blue balls that have ever occurred in the history of all humankind and beg me to fuck him.
Unsurprisingly, that life-altering event has not occurred. And I’m the one with a chronic case of blue balls. No matter how many times I jerk off, it’s not satisfying at all. The past three times, I couldn’t even summon the will to finish the job.
I can talk to my brothers about guy stuff, and frequently do, but never anything deep. Nothing that involves actual feelings, at least not my own. And talking about King when all except Mad know him would feel too messy. I could talk to Mad, but he’s working tonight. He’s been working a hell of a lot lately, but it keeps him busy and he seems to enjoy it.
