Page 2 of The Devious Husband

I grin to myself as I glance down at my all-black outfit — a pair of black leggings, a black tee, black leather thigh-high boots, and of course, black gloves. I’m not silly enough to leave fingerprints, after all.

I inhale deeply before I try to shimmy through the gap in the hedge like I have so many times before, staying as quiet as possible. It never gets any less nerve-racking, and each time I do this, I’m certain I’ll find Xavier or one of his brothers standing at the other end. Or worse — his security staff, who would definitely detain me. I’ve done some wild things throughout the years, in my many attempts to sabotage Xavier, and I know from experience that my brothers will happily leave me in jail if I get arrested for breaking and entering, even if it’s just to teach me a lesson.

I smirk to myself when I make it through undetected, my gaze roaming over the vast terrain ahead of me. Much like my own family, the Kingstons also all live on one huge gated piece of land, with each sibling having a separate part to themselves. The hedge I entered through places me near Xavier’s back garden, and my heart begins to race as I slowly make my way toward the building I’m aiming for tonight — his garage.

Xavier is nothing if not cocky, and with a bit of luck, he’s left his garage unlocked like he’s occasionally done in the past. He seems to think that he’s so untouchable that he doesn’t need extensive security, and for the most part, it’s true. The Kingstons aren’t just billionaires — they’re deeply entrenched in politics and law enforcement too. What money can’t buy them, their connections do. No one but me would be crazy enough to break into a Kingston property, and thank God for it, because tonight’s mission would’ve been near-impossible otherwise.

I glance over my shoulder furtively as I jog up to the huge glass structure, trying my best to watch out for cameras or other security measures and finding none. My heart pounds wildly as my fingers wrap around the cold metal door handle, and I hold my breath for a beat. The door opens with ease, and I huff in disbelief. “What an idiot,” I murmur under my breath as I carefully pull the door open just enough to slip through.

I pause at the entrance, my eyes roaming over the endless rows of ridiculously expensive and rare supercars. There aren’t a lot of things Xavier cares about, other than getting on my last nerve every chance he’s got, but his cars definitely rank high on his list of things he adores. He won’t appreciate anyone messing with them.

The biggest smile spreads across my face, pure glee lightening my mood as I imagine his sour expression when he walks in tomorrow morning to find he’s unable to drive any of his beloved cars. I can’t help but chuckle as I grab the pocket knife I sharpened especially for tonight, and kneel by the tires of the car closest to me.

A soft hiss fills the room as the air slowly leaves the tire, and it deflates. Xavier has more than enough money, and the cost of replacing his tires won’t even register for him, but it’ll positively impact the countless car repair centers he’ll have to employ to fix all the damage I’m about to do.

Normally I’d have gone for a tit-for-tat approach, and I’d have tried to steal one of his projects or designs in return for the one I lost, but somehow, this feels a lot more satisfying. This time I’m much more agitated, and I can’t quite tell why.

Is it because it’s been so long since we truly came for each other’s throats like this? Because I thought we’d moved past it and could treat each other civilly? Or is it something else? I can’t figure out why I’m so hurt. It isn’t the first time either of us stole the other’s design or project, but this time, I haven’t done anything to him to deserve it, like I would have in the past. Maybe it’s all in my head, but I can’t help but feel like Xavier is telling me that he doesn’t give a damn about my hard work, or my feelings — except he isn’t actually bothering to say it to my face because I’m simply not worth a second thought.

I bite down on my lip as I work my way through his cars, my heart aching. Until he showed up at a charity event with Valeria on his arm, our feud had kind of been fun. We often went too far in our attempts to sabotage each other, but there was some sort of mutual respect. Neither of us would admit it, but we both kept a tally and gave in to each other to keep things fair, resulting in both of us ending up with half of the projects we both fought over. This time, it feels different.

I sigh as I make my way to the last car, one that’s been placed on a round platform that wasn’t here the last time I snuck in. I’ve never seen Xavier drive this car before, and I frown when I don’t recognize the make. It’s clearly bespoke and incredibly expensive, and for a split-second, I hesitate, before I jam my knife into the back tire.

An alarm instantly goes off, and all lights turn on, causing me to jump up in shock. I whirl around as metal barriers begin to close outside the windows, nearly trapping me inside, and I rush over to the exit, my stomach turning.

Just as I reach the door, the alarm cuts off, and the lights suddenly dim again. I’m breathing hard as I try to figure out what’s going on, my eyes zeroing in on the flashing screen by the door. Mrs. Kingston Protocol, it reads, and moments later, the metal barrier begins to rise, leaving the room as it was before I set off the alarm.

I stare at the screen for a second longer before I rush out, my thoughts a mess. Mrs. Kingston. There’s only one reason why those words would be flashing across a security device in Xavier’s home, and the mere thought of it makes me feel sick.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Xavier Kingston got married, and his new wife just disabled the alarms I set off.

Three

Sierra

I clench my phone and lean back in my desk chair as I stare at the article my sister-in-law, Faye, forwarded this morning. Xavier Kingston spotted driving a yet to be released Windsor Motors supercar. My blood boils as I click on the video, Xavier’s irritatingly handsome face filling my screen.

“You’ve never driven a Windsor Motors car before, Mr. Kingston,” the reporter from The Herald says, looking annoyingly flustered as she smiles at him.

He smirks and glances over his shoulder, taking a moment to caress the hood of his new car with the tip of his finger before he turns to face the reporter again. His eyes are filled with a mixture of amusement and provocation — a unique blend he’s always reserved for me. “I had no choice,” he explains, an enticing chuckle leaving his lips. “My sweet kitten got her claws into all my other cars, so I had no choice but to buy a car I thought she might leave untouched.”

The reporter’s eyes widen. “Well, Windsor Motors cars are definitely robust,” she says, trying to mask her obvious confusion.

“They sure are,” he says, his eyes blazing. “I’m honored Lexington Windsor entrusted me with it several weeks before the car’s official release date. I can’t wait to find out what my darling kitten will think of this car, since she seemed to dislike my others.”

“The thought of you having a cute little kitten is incredibly endearing, Mr. Kingston. It certainly isn’t what I’d have expected.”

“I’m not sure cute is the right word to describe my kitten,” he says, laughing with far too much glee for a man who found all of his favorite toys damaged this morning. “Fierce, perhaps. Beautiful, for sure.”

“That piece of shit,” I say through gritted teeth as I swipe the article away, fuming. I hate that he’s right too — I’d never damage a Windsor Motors car. I’m seething as I stare out the window, my mind endlessly replaying how he referred to me as his sweet kitten on national TV. He’s unhinged, that’s for sure. Unhinged and insufferable.

He knows I hate that stupid nickname, which is exactly why he insists on using it. Before today, he’d never used it in earshot of anyone else, though. It started as a nearly-missed whisper when I danced with him at a charity gala eight years ago, and it turned into a taunt in empty hallways and boardrooms. “Kitten,” I repeat in my quiet office. He thinks I’m small and inconsequential, an unruly pet.

I’m seeing red as I call my brother, the CEO of Windsor Motors. He instantly declines my call, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. He must’ve known I’d be furious if he sold a car to Xavier Kingston, and he did it anyway. All of my brothers know I can’t stand Xavier, rightfully so. I’ve made it a point to complain loudly about his attempts to sabotage me, though somehow, they always seem to know I had it coming. Regardless, being the good brothers they are, they always have my back, so how the hell did Xavier get his hands on that car?

Sierra: call me back right now, or I’m calling Raya instead.

I smirk to myself when I notice my brother has read my text. Each and every single one of my brothers are complete suckers for their wives, and sadly for them, my sisters-in-law all love me dearly. There is no threat that works better than telling my brothers I’ll call their wives when they get on my nerves.