Page 88 of Cruel King

“Cora. She was concerned for Maggie. And for good reason, considering I saw Maggie hooking up with Micah Locke in the Hamptons! I made a huge deal out of it. She had to tell Locke what happened. It’s probably the reason she isn’t here. I had no idea it wasn’t a big deal since she begged me not to tell you.”

Gavin’s green eyes went shockingly dark. “She did what?”

I opened and closed my mouth. I’d been so sure that the arranged marriage meant the relationship was fake. Katherine and Camden’s had been arranged and fake for so long. That was my metric. Maybe this was different.

“Is that why you were upset at the Hamptons? That’s what you couldn’t tell me?”

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m so confused. Gavin, what is going on?”

He sighed and pulled me in closer. “Maggie and Lockearearranged. Our families set it up, but as far as I knew, it was a real marriage still. I certainly didn’t think Locke would approve of her sleeping with Micah.” He brushed a stray lock of my rainbow hair out of my face. “Why didn’t you tell me? You’ve been dealing with this all alone?”

“She begged me not to tell you. But why didn’t you tell me about the arranged part?”

“Just the family knows. And I suppose, now, youshouldknow since you’ll be family soon.” His smile returned at that.

“Yes. Your mom and aunt seem smitten with that idea.”

“They’re not the only ones,” he said, tilting my chin up to look into his eyes. “I’m quite fond of you myself.”

“Oh, are you?” I asked with a grin.

“Indeed.”

And seeing him look at me like that sent shivers straight down my spine. I was his. Completely and unequivocally. In that moment, not a single thing about this was fake.

“Gavin,” I said hesitantly, “I don’t want us to be like Maggie and Locke.”

His thumb tracked against my bottom lip. “And what do you want?”

“I want it to be real,” I whispered.

His lips brushed against mine as he breathed the truth into me. “It is real.”

26

GAVIN

The time with my family ended too soon. As we got back on the private jet to fly into Dallas to spend the holiday weekend with Whitley’s family, I could feel her anxiety increase with every traveled mile.

“Maybe we should have celebrated the Fourth of July with your family,” she muttered as we landed on a private airfield in south Dallas.

“But your brother invited you personally.”

“I know.” Her eyes darted around, as if she expected her family to jump out of the bushes to embarrass her. “Just … try to keep an open mind. My family isn’t like … your family.”

I grabbed her around the middle before we got to the awaiting car and kissed her deeply.

She laughed as she drew back. “What was that for?”

“To remind you that I’m right here. I’m not going to be scared off, Whit. It’s going to be fine.”

“You say that now,” she said with an eye roll and then opened the car door.

Nothing I said the entire drive to her family’s home in Dalworthington Gardens could ease her mind. She was practically bouncing in her seat by the time we were in the city.

“Are those … cows?” I asked in surprise. “Aren’t we within city limits?”

“Yes. Dalworthington Gardens was started as a farming center by the federal subsistence homestead program in the ’30s. It’s the only active colony still in existence, and as long as the land is in continuous usage, we can still use it for livestock,” she said, as if reading from a brochure of the town. “My family was one of the first settlers, and we’ve had the use of the land ever since.”

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