I almost trip. “An hour ago! Why didn’t we leave sooner? I could’ve been ready.”

  Stress builds behind my eyes. I hate being late.

  “Because that’s the agreement I have with Aspen.”

  “Aspen’s here?!” I squeak.

  “It’s her event,” he states, like this is all fine. “She lets me skip the first hour with the boring ass speaker bullshit, and I write her a five-figure check to support whatever fucking cause she’s going on about. It’s a win-win.”

  I want to stop walking, but if I do that, and he pushes on my back, I’ll fall right out of these stupid heels.

  “King.” He grunts, and I roll my eyes. “Husband, I don’t want to see Aspen.”

  “She’s my sister.”

  “Yeah, and last time I saw her, she called me a whore.”

  “She won’t do that again.”

  We’re approaching a pair of open doors and the noise of a fancy event happening inside spills out into the hall.

  “Oh?” I make sure he can hear my doubt. “And how do you know that?”

  We step around the corner and into the ballroom just as King replies. “Because I told her you never fucked Leland.”

  “You…” I blink up at him. “What?”

  King looks down at me. “You should’ve told me.”

  Anger boils up inside of me. “You should’ve asked. Or not jumped to conclusions like a giant…dumbass.”

  He clicks his tongue. “Now, now, Honey. We’re newlyweds, remember? Try to look happy.”

  “How did you even…? Val.” I answer my own question, and then my jaw clenches on a suspicion. “Is this what that whole,” I lower my voice, “not gonna fuck you until you ask thing is about?”

  When his nostrils flare, I know I nailed it.

  This prick.

  “King!” Someone hails him but we keep staring at each other.

  “What’s the charity for?” I ask.

  “No clue. Why?”

  I bat my eyes up at him, “Because I’m going to go write your name on every auction item I can find.”

  The side of his mouth pulls up. “Save me a dance.”

  “Fat chance.” Then, before anyone reaches us, and I have to stand through being introduced as King’s new wife, I turn and walk away. Carefully picking my way through the crowd.

  I went to enough events like this with my parents growing up, so I know how they go. The obligatory speeches that we’ve apparently missed. The tables of food. The live band in the corner and a dance floor that will only be used for mingling and not dancing. And then of course, the arrayment of auction items along one wall.

  I spot Aspen heading toward the entrance, toward King, so I adjust my trajectory and head in the opposite direction, toward the buffet tables first.

  Because you never fucked Leland.

  I don’t even know why I’m so annoyed. I’m not mad at Val for telling him. But like, what does it really have to do with anything? We’ve already had sex, King and I, so why would this make any difference?

  I guess I’d be even more pissed if he hadn’t had sex with me until he found out. Like as though having some other dick in me made me bad.

  I accept a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and decide there’s no point in trying to figure out the reasons of a madman.

  Stopping in the back of the line for food, I see the tactical error in grabbing this glass of champagne. I’m going to need two hands.

  Before it’s my turn, I down the bubbly and hand the empty glass off to another passing waiter, waving off his offer of an immediate refill.

  With two free hands, I load up one of the little plates and bite down on a smile as I think of one of my favorite movie lines: I’m only here for the food.

  Plate in hand, I make my way to one of the many tall round cocktail tables and set up shop, refusing to look for my King.

  I scoff as I dunk a cold shrimp into the dab of cocktail sauce on my plate.

  My King or Husband, blah blah blah. What an idiot.

  I have a shrimp half-in, half-out of my mouth when someone says my name.

  My eyes snap up and I find a pretty brunette with bangs standing across the little table from me. I hadn’t noticed her approach, and now I have to decide if I pull the shrimp out of my mouth, or bite it off at the tail, like I was planning. Which would mean she’d have to wait for me to chew and swallow before I greet her.

  So, instead of doing either of those things, I just stand in indecision, with a sea creature protruding from my lips.

  “Sorry!” she holds her hands up. “My timing is terrible.” I watch her cheeks turn red. “But my husband pointed you out and I thought I’d come say hi.”

  Breaking out of my stupor, I finally bite through and drop the shrimp tail onto my plate.

  I hold a hand over my mouth while I chew and ask, “Husband?”

  Her features soften, “Yeah, I’m married to Nero.”

  And then my problems are over because I choke to death right then and there.

  “Oh, um…” the woman’s eyes widen as she snags a new glass of champagne off a passing tray handing it to me.

  Good thing these waiters are trying to get everyone drunk.

  Taking it from her, I sip and blink away the watery eyes that come with near-death experiences, coughing the last piece of shellfish out of my lungs.

  When I catch my breath, it’s my turn to apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…” I shake my head. “I didn’t know he was married.”

  What I want to say is who in their right fucking mind would marry that man. But that seems rude for a first meeting.

  She holds her hand out. “I’m Payton.”

  I wipe my fingers on the little napkin then take her hand. “Savannah.”

  After shaking, we stand in awkward silence. Because I don’t know how much she knows about my situation. And I don’t know how to talk to the woman who married the man that I still basically hate.

  “Nero told me everything,” she blurts out, hands pressed together in front of her chest. “And even though I know he believed he was doing the right thing, I told him he needs to apologize to you.” Payton looks so earnest as she says it that I have no idea how to reply. “He’s really…”

  We both know she was about to say a good guy, but we both know that neither of us can say that about our husbands.

  She tries again. “Him and King have been best friends for forever, and those two would do anything for each other.” Interest piqued. “And to be perfectly honest, I used to be terrified of King. But then he helped save my life, and well, now I’m not really scared of him anymore. I’m sure it will be the same for you and Nero.”

  When my brows raise, she lifts her hands and presses them to her cheeks.

  “I didn’t mean… Not that your life will need saving.”

  “It’s alright, I know what you meant.” I take pity on the poor woman; she is married to Nero after all.

  “Thanks…sorry.” She pats her cheeks again. “I was trying to make things better not worse.”

  “It’s all weird, so it’s okay.”

  Payton smiles and nods, agreeing.

  She seems really nice, which makes me wonder how she ended up married into this shitshow.

  “How did you and Nero meet?” I pick up another shrimp.

  “Well,” she gives me a sheepish look, “he sorta broke into my house one day.”

  I put my shrimp down.

  Clearly if I eat here, I’ll just end up dying.

  “Are you okay?” I whisper across the table.

  Her eyes widen before a small laugh bubbles out of her. “Yes. I promise you that marrying Nero was my choice, and one I’d make over and over again.”

  I eye her skeptically. Okay, sure.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you.” I tell her, unsure if it was or not. “I’m gonna go spend some of King’s money.” I aim a thumb over to the auction tables.

  I’m sure I’m being rude by cutting our conversation off and ditching my still full plate of food, but I honestly don’t know what I can, or should, say to this person.

  But she takes my departure smoothly with a smile, “Have fun!”

  “Have fun.” I mutter to myself as I start to eyeball the items.

  There’s a whole container of pens next to the first item, so I pluck one up and slowly make my way down the row of tables, writing King’s name for the next open bid on every single item.

  When I come to one that’s a weekend getaway in a private ski chalet, I up the current bid from ten thousand to thirty thousand, making sure to carefully print out King’s name.

  I’ve never skied in my life. And I have no intention of learning. But I’d love to cost that fucker thirty grand just to sit on a couch and sip hot chocolate.

  I’m straightening up from writing, when an arm passes in front of my view and a hand rubs across my exposed cleavage.

  The touch is so unexpected and so unwelcome, I stumble back.

  “Sorry, Miss, didn’t mean to bump you.” The smarmy jerk smiles at me as his eyes drop to my chest.

  Any fun I was having evaporates.

  That was no accident.

  Like I said, I’ve been to events like this before. And just like my experiences growing up, I know there’s no point in yelling at him. He’d claim it was just an accident. I’d say otherwise. And the crowd––like my parents––will always believe the stupid man. Because everyone always believes the stupid man.

  Hot angry tears fill my eyes as I turn away from the table.

  I hate it here.

  This ballroom.

  This unfair sexist world.

  I fight the urge to sniffle, pressing my lips together and blinking the moisture from my eyes.

  And then I see King. Standing across the room. His head cocked, and his lion-gaze locked on me.

  I’m still mad at him, but I don’t have anyone else to go to. And that moment, what just happened, just flung me so far back into my memories that I don’t even care that he’s standing next to Aspen.

  I need him.

  CHAPTER 59

  King

  Fury vibrates down my spine.

  “What’s wrong?” Aspen turns to face the crowd.

  “Who is that?” I grit the question between clenched teeth.

  She follows my line of sight to the man watching Savannah’s ass as she walks away from the auction tables.

  “That’s the mayor’s younger brother. I heard he just moved back to town.”

  My knuckles pop as I clench my fists.

  “Please don’t kill him here.” Aspen knows me too well. Though it’s not like it’s hard to read the distraught look on Savannah’s face. “Please, King,” she repeats.

  Savannah’s eyes catch mine as she hurries toward me.

  “I won’t kill him here,” is all I promise.

  Savannah is just a few steps away now, and she spares a weary glance at Aspen.

  Neither of them say anything, and I watch Savannah work to keep her emotions in check.

  I reach out and wrap my hand around the back of Savannah’s neck, my hold on her gentle, even though rage fills my blood as I pull her to me.

  Her lips are still set into a hard line when I lean down and softly press my own against her temple.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  I promised her safety, and at the first test of my power, I failed.

  Blackness edges in on my vision and I kiss her once more.

  I shouldn’t have let her walk through this place alone. I should’ve made a big fucking scene the moment we walked in, so everyone knew exactly who she was. Exactly who she belonged to.

  My eyes scan the room.

  I should just slit the throat of every man here and save myself the future hassle. I’m sure most of them deserve it.

  When I pull back, Savannah’s blinking even more rapidly. And I feel like an even bigger failure since my attempt at comfort seemed to have the opposite effect.

  Aspen taps my arm and I look up to see the man walking toward the hallway that leads to the bathroom.

  “Stay with Aspen,” I tell Savannah, before I press my lips to her temple once more.

  I give her neck a light squeeze, looking for a response.

  “Okay, Husband,” she whispers.

  Husband.

  I force myself to let go of her, just as Nero and Payton walk up.

  “With me,” I tell Nero, and he peels away from his wife, stepping into stride with me.

  “Who’re we killing?” His tone is casual.

  “I promised Aspen I wouldn’t.”

  He makes a humming sound. “Still leaves a lot of wiggle room.”

  We make it to the back hall in time to see the man enter the bathroom about ten paces before us.

  Silently, we follow him in.

  It’s a classy bathroom with four well-built stalls, with wooden walls and doors that go to the floor.

  Two of them are occupied, and there’s one guy washing up at the sink.

  We peel off, Nero going to the sink to wash his hands, and I go into the open stall between the two in use.

  The water shuts off, and I hear Nero start to whistle, which I assume is to cover the sound of him locking the bathroom door, preventing anyone else from coming in.

  With sink guy gone, I flush the toilet and step out of the stall, standing against the wall opposite, waiting to see who comes out first.

  Nero keeps whistling when the farthest stall door opens, and my target starts to step out.

  I rush him.

  He’s smaller than me. Weak. The type who feels strong by intimidating women. The type of disgusting piece of shit I’d happily put bullets in all day long.

  Nero’s whistling gets louder––is that somewhere over the rainbow?––and I hear him turn the water back on as I crowd the man back into the stall.

  The man opens his mouth to protest, but before he can so much as squeak, I grip his throat and squeeze, cutting off all his air.

  The struggle that follows is typical. It’s the body’s natural response to being choked. But this isn’t the first time I’ve strangled a man, so it’s hardly a fair fight.

  But I didn’t make it to where I am by fighting fair.

  I stomp down on both his feet with mine, pinning them in place with my greater weight, hopefully crunching some of those fragile toe bones.

  His hands grapple with my arm, trying to free my grip, but I just lean into him, crushing him against the sturdy stall wall with my larger size.

  I put my face close to his. “If you rip my suit, I will break your neck.”

  His hands switch from clawing at me, to just trying to push me away.

  Useless.

  The toilet flushes in the other stall, and then we listen as Nero starts up a conversation with the man ending with, “Let me get that.” And I know he’s using slight of hand to unlock the main door as he opens it.

  When the door shuts, silence descends in on the bathroom.

  I let go of the man’s throat as Nero uses his foot to swing the stall door open, before leaning against it.

  “What’d he do?” Nero slides his hands into his pockets.

  The man’s gasps turn into coughing. Loud coughing.

  Nero starts whistling again to cover the sound.

  “He touched my wife.”

  Savannah’s back was to me when she was at the auction table, but her reaction to that man’s closeness could only mean one thing. And the way his eyes bug out when he looks up at me confirms I’m correct.

  Nero’s hands slide out of their pockets, and I see he’s got a switch blade in one, the tempo of his song slowing to a sinister soundtrack.

  “No killing him, remember,” I remind him.

  The man tries to speak at this, but he’s still struggling to breathe properly.

  If he just moved here, he might not know who we are. But he can feel who we are. He can feel the danger he’s in.

  I make sure he can see the anger I’m feeling. “If I ever see your face again, I will cut your throat so deep your head will beat your body to the floor.”

  Leaning against the wall, he nods frantically, while rubbing at his throat.

  Looking like he understands.

  But he doesn’t. Not yet.

  “So,” I roll my neck out. “When you can use your arms again, you’re going to pack up and leave the state. Because if you don’t, I will see you. And I will kill you.”

  I watch him mouth the word arms before I dart my hands out.

  Grabbing his wrist in one hand, I grip behind the elbow of the same arm with my other hand. He starts to struggle, but holding tight, I forcefully jerk his elbow the wrong way, forcing it through the body’s natural resistance.

  The sounds of snapping as it gives way is the perfect percussion to Nero’s tune.

  The man, whose name I still don’t know, starts to scream in pain, but Nero moves closer, crowding into the stall, and clamps his non-knife hand around the man’s throat, once again cutting off his air and stifling his sounds.

  Eyes rolling, the man tries to reach for his damaged arm with his good one. Accepting the offered limb, I grab that wrist too.

  He tries to shake his head, because he knows what’s coming next, but no amount of pleading or begging would stop me.

  I force his arm straight and grip his elbow, his other arm worthless in the fight against me. “You deserve to die for touching what’s mine. Consider this a kindness.”

  Then, with faster movement than he deserves, I snap his second elbow backwards.

  The cracking vibrates up my arms, filling me with satisfaction.

  Nero’s whistling drops to a low note before he drops his hand and fakes a shiver. “Man, I felt that crack though his neck.”

  “Makes us even for that pinky finger,” I tell Nero, who only snorts in response.

  Then, because the fucker deserves it, I knee the man as hard as I can in the balls.

  As he gasps for air, I shove his hunched over form onto the toilet.

  To make sure he hears what I say next, I bend down until I’m right in his face. “I know you’re going to want revenge. And I know you think your brother will be able to help you. But he can’t. Because we are The Alliance. And we own this fucking city.”