Just Between Us (The Kings)

I’d be lyingif I said being included in the paintball outing wasn’t a major highlight for me. It was the most fun I’d had in years . . . maybe ever. The Kings and Sullivans were officially ridiculous—slinging insults and jabs all day, but I couldn’t help but observe how good-natured it all seemed. For a generations-long rivalry, it appeared as though it might finally be healing.

I had even been added to the King-Sullivan group text thread the next day. It was like some strange crossover album where half of the members didn’t even want to be a part of it. I didn’t contribute to the conversation unless I was directly asked a question, but I was more than happy to be a silent observer.

Lee

Whoever shot me in the ass during round two is going to get what’s coming to him. It’s still bruised.

Whip

The way you screamed when it hit was totally worth it.

Sloane

I’m sad Abel missed out on all the fun.

Abel

I’m not.

Lark

And Veda coming out as a scary tactical badass? That was not on my bingo card.

Lee

Team Sullivan for the win!

Royal

She’s not Team Sullivan.

I smiled down at my phone as it kept pinging. It was rare for me to feel included. I enjoyed watching these two families circle each other and pretend like they had less in common than they did. It was a wonder they couldn’t see it.

Emotionally compromised.

In business that effect was when you were too close to something to see the truth, even if it was staring you in the face. In the midst of chaos, your analysis could be subverted by emotion that led to a lack of objectivity.

I blew out a breath and rolled my neck, wondering whether that was what was happening to me. It was Monday morning, and my eyes were nearly crossed trying to organize the mounds of digital and literal paperwork to sift through.

She’s not Team Sullivan.

A flutter tickled low in my belly as I reread Royal’s words. He presented as a carefree jokester, but I knew from his interactions on Pulse that he hid a possessive and dominant side.

When I win, you let me teach you how to let go a little bit.

“Pffft.” I shook my head. I didn’t need to let go of anything. My life was fine. I was rebuilding my career. My apartment was decently adequate as temporary housing. I was good at my job, and that was what was most important.

Sure, I didn’t have a ton of friends, but who has time for that? My sex life was a little lackluster and consisted of me obsessing over a sexy stranger on the internet, but it was fine. Only . . . he wasn’t quite a stranger anymore.

I flipped through more paperwork and bit back a frustrated growl. The relentless achiever that lived inside of me had flipped a switch during the paintball match. I simply couldn’t lose. I didn’t know how.

When I had tossed Royal a smug smile, reminding him he had just lost the bet, I hadn’t anticipated the ache in my chest when his handsome face fell. The rest of the morning we continued to exchange friendly jabs, but it didn’t change the fact that I had won.

That meant that Royal was going to leave me alone to do the job I was hired to do. The man I had gotten to know over the past several months was a man of his word.

I should have been celebrating a win.

Instead, I was marinating in an odd feeling of vague disappointment. I blew out an uneasy breath and tried once again to refocus and forget about how good it felt to do something fun for a change.

For me, work was a different kind of fun—a controlled, predictable, steady feeling of accomplishment.

As the morning wore on, I went from sitting across from JP at the outdated desk to sitting on the dusty floor and crouching over banker’s boxes filled with old tax filings. I was still trying to tease out where Russell King might be hiding his subpar business practices. Nothing on the surface seemed off, but the deeper I dug, the more confused I became.

Something was off.

In business, you learned to follow the money. Though it was a spaghetti trail of redundant paperwork, when I pulled a thread, more questions slowly revealed themselves. I would need to dig deeper, but it appeared that Russell was keeping portions of the businesses King Equities acquired for himself and siphoning off the money . . . but for what?

I thumbed through the paperwork for the third time, pausing on the address of yet another shell company purchased under the King Equities umbrella.

I used my phone to search the address on the internet and found it was a home address. “What’s the connection to the residential property in Kenilworth, Illinois?”

JP frowned and outstretched his hand. I leaned over to hand him the paper, and he snatched it from my grasp.

“I googled it. It’s coming up residential.” I looked back at my phone. “Fancy place.”

I watched my boss grow silent. His grim mouth formed into a hard line as he stared at the page he was reading.

With a bland look, he handed it back. “He has a second family. I can only assume this is their primary residence.”

Stunned into silence, I blinked. “I’m sorry. A what?”

He sighed and looked at me. “We recently learned that my father’s marriage to my mother was illegitimate. He has a long-standing marriage to another woman named Elizabeth Peake. They have children.”

The emotionless way he outlined the facts of his father’s double life was astounding. A stream of nosy, highly unprofessional questions poured through me, but I tamped them down. JP had already moved on, using his computer as an excuse to change the subject and dive deeper into our work.

Frustrated and exhausted, I exhaled, letting my arms go limp in my lap. “What am I doing here?”

JP’s head lifted and he frowned at me. “Your job.”

I shook my head. “Sure, my job. I get that. But what is my job? What are we even digging for? I can’t help but feel like I would be more successful if I actually understood what I was looking for.”

JP swiveled in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and pinching the bridge of his nose. “For years I have watched my father obliterate small businesses and rake in the profits, all while the former owners thanked him. How does he do that?”

I considered his question. “Charm? Charisma? False promises?” I had known plenty of shady businessmen in my lifetime, and oftentimes they were revered as the good guys.

JP shook his head. “Control.” He chuffed out a breath. “Here’s an example: the historical society blocks the purchase of a building he wants? Fine. He’ll buy three others, only to knock them down and build a community center that he donates as a charity tax write-off. He comes out looking like the good guy, but the real win for him is simply proving he can do it.”

“Jesus.” I exhaled. “Did he really do that?”

JP nodded, and his flat stare was unnerving. “King Equities doesn’t care about small businesses or revitalizing the community. He cares about status and power and control.”

A prickle danced along my spine. “And you want to take that control for yourself?”

He huffed and shook his head.

Heavy moments passed before he finally spoke. “Something happened to my mother, and he used King Equities to hide it.” He dragged a hand through his hair, leaving it poking in all directions. “I just have to figure out—” When his voice cracked, he went silent, swiveling back toward his computer.

In that moment, he didn’t look like the suave businessman he presented as. Rather, he looked like a lost child, searching for answers about his long-missing mother.

I knew about control, and how important it was to save face. I unfolded myself from the floor, slipping into my discarded heels.

Gently clearing my throat, I slid a few file folders into my bag. “I’ve got a lead on some money trails that aren’t aligning with King Equities acquisitions. I might dig into the archives in the library and see if anything shakes out.”

He hummed, and I silently slipped out of the stifling office. Once in the hallway, I leaned against the door and sighed.

Shit, that was heavy.

It appeared ruthless, shifty businessmen in the city were nothing compared to the web Russell King had woven, and I was deep in it. If things panned out the way JP was planning, this could very well make national headlines, and my name would be attached to it. It could be the redemption I’d been praying for after Franklin & Mirth.

It still stung to accept that on paper I had resigned.

Only to myself could I admit the truth—I’d been pushed out for what I had done. No amount of foot stomping and pouting would change it.

Now it looked as though I had barely left behind one scandal only to be embroiled in another.

With my black leather bag slung over my shoulder, I left the office building. I needed fresh air and a little sunshine. The sidewalks were bustling with tourists who were shopping and finishing their lunches. I recognized the family that was renting the cute little cottage on my street. The mom was pulling a cooler on wheels while the dad dragged a wagon with their two boys behind her. The woman recognized me and offered a friendly wave.

With a smile, I returned it. It was sweet and simple but something that would never happen in the city. Everyone was in too much of a rush to get to where they were going to take the time to acknowledge an acquaintance.

From the top of the hill I could see the iconic Outtatowner lighthouse just down the roadway. Fishermen dotted the pier as kids zipped up and down the concrete walkway. The edge of the beach was barely visible, but I knew it was there. I could feel it.

I stopped to take a moment to soak up the summer sun.

How nice would it be to spend the afternoon burying my toes in the warm sand?

I sighed, tucking the wistful thought away for another day. I wasn’t there to play hooky and waste half a day on the beach.

I was there to do a job and do it well.

I crossed the street, and two women exiting King Tattoo caught my attention. They leaned into each other, giggling.

“Oh my god. Can you believe how hot he is?” the blonde said.

“Girl, those arms? That face? His tattoos?” Her friend giggled and squeezed her arm.

“Mmm.”

“You do realize when he does your tattoo, those hands are going to be all over you.” Her eyebrows waggled.

A spike of jealousy pinched in my chest. I knew exactly who they were talking about because I’d envisioned those very same hands.

It was utterly ridiculous, but a petty part of me felt like I needed to stake my claim on him. Instead, I decided that I could use the opportunity to gather more information on the King family—particularly Royal and his apparent handsy reputation in town.

“Hey, excuse me?” I hoped my smile came across as friendly.

The blonde’s head whipped up, and they both stopped walking.

“Hi, I’m so sorry.” I pointed at the tattoo parlor. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Have you gotten work done there before? I’m new in town and thinking of getting something done during my trip.”

The pair brightened.

“Are you kidding? King Tattoo is the best. People come from all different places to get their ink done here.”

The blonde nodded. “All of the artists are talented, but the owner, Royal King, he’s next level.”

“Yeah, but he books up like a year in advance,” the brunette interjected.

The pretty blonde shrugged. “People chicken out all the time, though. It might be worth putting your name on the list for any cancellations.”

“Got it.” I smiled. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

I waved as they walked down the sidewalk. Anxious, but intrigued, I opened the door to King Tattoo. Despite it being early afternoon on a Monday, patrons were milling around, flipping through artists’ books and speaking with Luna at the desk.

I eyed the gorgeous framed artwork along the walls. A whiff of smoke—something warm and woody—floated over my shoulder. I looked back to see Luna waving a bundle of burning herbs in my direction.

I waved a hand to clear the white plume that encircled me and coughed. “What are you doing?”

“White sage.” She swirled it again, wafting it toward me. “Smudging wards off negative energy.”

“Luna.” Royal’s gruff tone had her eyebrows lifting and throwing her hands up.

“Okay, okay. I was just trying to help.” She rolled her eyes and returned to her chair at the desk.

I cleared the smoke around me. When my eyes met Royal’s, my insides turned to goo. He was dressed in black jeans and scuffed work boots. His black T-shirt was tucked in, putting his ridiculously cut body on full display. His tattoos snaked up the backs of his hands and arms and disappeared under his shirtsleeves before winding their way back out of his collar and spilling onto his thick, corded neck.

His eyes were warm and inviting. “What brings you around?”

Steadying myself, I put on an air of indifference. “I got a recommendation from some of your adoring fans.” I gestured over my shoulder toward the entrance where the two girls had just left. “Figured I would see for myself what the fuss was all about.”

“Oh, yeah?” A dangerous twinkle danced in his eye. “What did you have in mind?”

I glanced at the display of artwork framed throughout the waiting area. A large flip rack of posters filled with drawings was tucked into the corner.

I walked toward it and absently flipped through the artwork. “I was thinking something like an infinity symbol or carpe diem or like a heart with Mom in the middle.”

He smirked. “All classic choices.” His eyes flicked toward Luna, who was painting her nails behind the front desk. “Luna, when is my next appointment?”

She rolled her eyes and used her free hand to tap a few keys on the keyboard. “You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

He turned his attention toward me. “Why don’t you come on back to my booth and we can discuss a few options?”

Royal’s tattoo booth.

My skin prickled. His space. Not one to back down from a challenge, I lifted my chin and sailed past him. He shook his head and chuckled before following closely behind.

As the door to his booth clicked closed, I felt the air shift. I went from predator to prey. Nerves tickled my belly as I tried to regain my composure, doing anything in my power to remain calm.

I looked down my nose at the gleaming countertops with the various tattoo equipment and ink arranged in tidy rows. Every surface gleamed, and the air held the familiar tang of disinfectant. The walls of the room were painted a moody, navy blue, but were nearly covered over with various drawings.

Some drawings were framed while others were simply tacked directly onto the drywall. A few had color, but most were black-and-white sketches.

I moved closer to look at one. It was a gorgeous silhouette of a woman. She had long hair that was slightly lifted by some unseen breeze. Her face held a soft smile, but her eyes were haunting.

My breath seized in my chest. I looked over my shoulder to find Royal studying me.

“Are these all tattoos you’ve done?” I asked.

He shook his head as his jaw clenched. “No, those are just for me.”

I smiled, liking that he kept some tiny part of his talent to himself. “They’re beautiful.” I gestured with my head and a smirk. “Who is she? Long-lost lover?”

Royal’s lips rolled and I was transfixed. When his eyes lifted, I stared at the hard lines of his face. “That’s my mother.”

My throat went dry, and I swallowed past the grit. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t know.” He stayed silent and my nerves took over, spiraling me into a rambling mess. “She’s beautiful. You know, she kind of looks like Sylvie, only sadder maybe.”

“Yep.” The ache in a single syllable was a dagger to my heart.

“So . . .” A nervous titter escaped me as I raised my hands and let them slap against the outside of my thighs. “Are you going to tattoo me or what?”

Royal’s eyes dragged down my front and lifted. “You know you don’t want a tattoo. At least . . . not today.”

My lips pursed. “You’re probably right. I’m far too picky and demanding. I’ve always been told I’m hard to please.” Another nervous laugh escaped me, and I clamped my lips shut.

Royal eased against the counter of his workstation. He was the ruler of this domain.

His jaw flexed. “Being particular isn’t a crime, Precious. High standards are the hallmark of a high-value woman. Sounds to me like you just haven’t found someone who’s up to the challenge.”

I scoffed, unnerved at how his words made me shudder. “And you are?”

He smirked, seemingly unaffected by my internal meltdown. “Why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re here?”

I sucked in a deep breath and gathered my bravery and any remaining scraps of confidence. “I don’t know. I guess I was just thinking about our bet and your pathetic loss.”

“Is that so?” His eyebrow raised and my blood pressure skyrocketed.

My eyes lowered, unsure of how my next words might come across. “I just wondered if, you know, to be fair, we did best two out of three.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “I see. Because of my pitiful loss, you mean?”

I grinned, thankful he wasn’t making fun of my rare display of nerves. “Naturally.”

Royal moved toward me, his long limbs eating up the small distance between us until his front stood flush with mine. I leaned back, my hands gripping the black leather of the tattoo chair.

I was scrambling to not melt into a puddle at his feet. “I came here to tell you how ridiculous your proposition was.”

“Did you really come here to say that or because you were curious?” He inhaled my scent, and I nearly groaned at how erotic his appreciative grunt was. “I don’t need any more games.”

His warm breath tickled the thin skin at my neck. Every inch of my body tightened. His masculine scent rolled over me, and I squeezed my thighs together.

His fingertips dragged across my jaw, forcing my eyes to lift and meet his. “I will give you everything you need.” His touch burned a trail down my neck and the back of my arm, farther down. “Say the word and I will show you how good it feels to lose control.”

My breath heaved and my mind raced. Every cell of my body screamed Yes. My brain scrambled to keep up. “Is this a Disney villain origin story you’re channeling or . . . ?”

He grinned, one thigh pressing between my legs as I opened for him. A dark chuckle rumbled out of him. “You are so mean to me.”

I was breathless, panting and wanting more. “So that’s it? You just want to take a strong woman and break her?”

“I can be the villain if that’s what turns you on.” His jaw flexed as his eyes moved over me. “But you’ve really got it all wrong. I don’t want to break you. I want to set you free.”

It was the simple promise of freedom that drew me in. I was so busy white-knuckling it through life that I never stopped to consider the fact I didn’t have to always be in control. I didn’t know any other way, but I was starting to think I might want to.

My throat scratched as I swallowed. “I need rules—to feel safe.”

Yes, rules are good.

Rules could keep me from tumbling headfirst into something I couldn’t come back from.

Royal’s nose grazed the side of my cheek. “Rules and I don’t really have the best track record, Precious.” His voice rasped in my ear. He leaned back, his warm brown eyes boring into me. “But for you, I’ll do my best.”

Royal leaned away, clasping his hands in front of him as he waited. My head was spinning, already missing the heat of his body pressed against mine.

Rules.Think. Rules.

I lifted one manicured finger and stared Royal in the eye. “Rule one: no one can find out about it. If I’ve learned anything in this town, it’s that it loves to gossip, and I don’t want to invite that drama.” He nodded and my shoulders relaxed. “Rule two: clear boundaries, clear expectations. I don’t need feelings ruining what we are trying to do here.”

Royal studied me but didn’t argue.

“Finally,” I said with a release of breath. “Rule three: it’s over when I say it is. If I don’t like what we’re doing and feel like it’s run its course . . . then it’s done.”

He hummed as he considered the rules I’d put into place. Royal scraped a hand across his chiseled jaw. I knew the rules I had outlined were rigid and a little too demanding, but it was the only way I knew how to temper the incessant pleading I was feeling. Royal was offering to show me how to loosen my grip. He was offering freedom.

My heart raced in anticipation of his agreement.

He nodded slowly, walking toward the door to his booth. His long, tattooed fingers wrapped around the handle as he pulled it open for me to leave. “I’ll think about it.”