Page 6 of The Devious Husband
“Must be nice,” Zach mutters under his breath. “Being Mom’s favorite child.”
I shake my head and connect my laptop to the screen so I can pull up our monthly figures. We all know who the real favorite child is, and it isn’t any of us.
“We’re up 13% year to date across our holdings,” I begin to explain. While my siblings and I all do vastly different things, all our different endeavors are simply different entities of the King Group, and we all report directly to our parents. I handle all our real estate, Zach handles politics and our family’s image, Elijah is in charge of maintaining some of our old ties and using them to take down some of the worst threats to our family before they materialize, and Hunter… well, he’s the only one of us with real otherworldly talent. Why he hasn’t picked up his guitar in years is a mystery to us all, but I’m certain he won’t be able to stay away forever.
“Our aim is a thirty percent rise,” Dad reminds me, his gaze roaming over our figures. He begins to dissect our performance, giving each of my brothers and me pointers on where to cut costs, and where to invest further. He’s never said it, but I know guilt and self blame still keep him up at night. He’s worked himself to the bone to ensure we’d thrive in ethical and legal ways, transforming himself and our family virtually overnight in hopes it’d make a difference.
“Good job this month, kids,” Mom says as the meeting concludes. Normally, my parents leave quickly, and my brothers and I end up having a couple of glasses of whiskey while we catch up, but judging by the way Mom ushers them out today, it’s clear she has something to say to me.
My brothers all throw me pitiful glances as they leave the room. They know as well as I do that it’s never good when our parents want to have a word with any of us. After all, they rarely interfere in our private lives, and the only times they say anything at all about the way we run our businesses is in this monthly meeting.
I raise a brow when Dad follows my brothers out, and all of a sudden, I feel like a teenager again, having gotten caught doing something I shouldn’t have been. “So,” Mom says, pushing the door closed behind Dad. She turns to face me, a deceptive smile on her face. “Sierra Windsor, huh?”
“Nope,” I say, rising to my feet. “I’m not talking to you about her.”
Mom crosses her arms and leans back against the door, ensuring I can’t just walk out. “I suppose I could just go speak to her myself.”
I sit down slowly. “What is it you want to know?” I ask cautiously, and Mom smiles.
“I would like to know what your intentions are, Xavier. I didn’t raise a bully — but that’s exactly what you seem to be. I didn’t mind it when your feud was mutual and it seemed playful, but now? You took her designs, and she looked devastated when she walked into that party. That’s not how you treat a woman you care about.”
How could she possibly know that? I’m tempted to tell her that Sierra slashed all my tires shortly after, but I know that isn’t what my mother needs to hear. “Mom,” I murmur, wringing my hands. It doesn’t matter how old my brothers and I get, or how much we accomplish. Our mother has this way of making us all feel like we’re five years old all over again.
“Your intentions, Xavier. If they’re anything but honorable, Sierra slashing your tires will be the least you’ll have to contend with.”
“How…” I shake my head and sigh. Elijah, no doubt. Fucking tattletale. “Mom,” I say, taking a deep breath. “If things go the way I hope they will, I intend to make Sierra my wife.”
Six
Sierra
I keep rereading the same paragraph in my romance novel and silently curse Xavier for ruining my favorite hobby for me. All evening I’ve been trying to read, and all evening, I haven’t stopped wondering what Xavier stole from me. Three years ago, I swore I was done with him and our stupid feud, only to become embroiled in his schemes again.
I never should’ve retaliated when he stole my design plans, and I shouldn’t have gone to his opening party. I definitely never should have danced with him. My heart beats a little faster as I think back to the way his body felt against mine, and the way he looked at me as we moved so perfectly in-sync. Each time we dance together, he makes me forget why I hate him, and then he opens his damn mouth.
I grit my teeth as I think back to his venomous words. He’s such a flirt, and he doesn’t even seem to realize how disrespectful it is toward Valeria, or maybe he simply doesn’t care. After all, he’s Xavier Kingston, one of the most eligible men alive, according to those horrid gossip magazines I pretend not to read.
I clench my jaw as his whispered words come to mind, and all of a sudden, they make sense. You look dazzling, my darling kitten, but your neck looks awfully bare tonight. I slam my book shut and my heart begins to pound as I rush through my walk-in wardrobe, toward a hidden panel that slides open when I push against the Windsor family crest, my fingerprints registering. My heart drops as I walk into my hidden safe and find all of my most expensive necklaces missing, the displays showcasing vastly different designs.
I gasp as I take a step closer and recognize them for what they are: seven extremely expensive Laurier designs that I’ve never seen before. My stomach somersaults when I notice the little notes in front of each design, and I raise a brow in confusion.
“What the hell?” I mutter as I take in the pieces of paper that look like a cut-up ransom note, all of them in slightly different sizes, and all of them on sepia paper. Did he cut these out of a newspaper? My hand trembles as I lift the first two pieces and study them. Dear kitten, they read, and judging by the font and the size of the text, I strongly suspect he cut this out of a novel.
“What a barbaric, inhumane thing to do,” I mutter as I begin to reassemble the pieces in an attempt to figure out what the note is supposed to say. I’m so distraught by the fact that he seems to have cut pages out of books, like some kind of psychopath, that it takes me a moment to comprehend what the message is.
Dear Kitten, please know that I wish it were my hands on your skin each time you wear these necklaces.
I stare at it wide-eyed and raise my fingers to my neck, my heart hammering in my chest. Is he threatening me? Does he want me to wear these necklaces and imagine him choking the life out of me for annoying him just a touch too much? “He’s crazy,” I mutter to myself. “I’ve driven him completely crazy.”
I can’t figure out the meaning of this. If he wanted to gift me jewelry, he’d just have done so, though I can’t imagine Xavier Kingston ever giving me a present. No, this isn’t a gift, or he wouldn’t have stolen my jewelry and left that creepy note. It isn’t even in his handwriting, nor is it signed, so even if I did report it, there isn’t anything pointing toward him, other than it being Laurier jewelry, which he reportedly recently commissioned. I know him well enough to know he won’t leave traces, and even if I could pin this theft on him, he’d simply walk away unscathed. His brother is the mayor, after all.
I’m frazzled as I begin to take inventory of what exactly he took in an attempt to figure out his motive, only to realize he stole one piece he never should’ve touched — a heirloom piece my grandmother gifted me when Raven married Ares. Each Windsor bride is given a heirloom Laurier piece shortly after their wedding day, but my grandmother gave me mine on the same day Raven received hers. She rightfully didn’t think I’d be patient enough to wait for it, and I’ve carefully stored it ever since I received it, only for Xavier Kingston to steal it. “Goddamnit.”
If he hadn’t taken that specific piece, I’d likely have let his unhinged behavior slide. After all, the value of the items he left me likely matches or exceeds what he took. But this? If my grandmother ever finds out I lost something so precious, she’d be beyond disappointed in me. I need to retrieve it before she ever finds out it was missing.
“Xavier Kingston,” I mutter under my breath as I grab my car keys and storm out of my house. He had to have known that necklace meant something to me. I don’t know how, but somehow, he must’ve known. This can’t have been a coincidence, and I just don’t understand how he continues to get under my skin like this. How does he know which buttons to push to infuriate me, and why the hell does he keep coming after me when I tried and succeeded in being the better person for so long?
Whatever unspoken ceasefire existed between us ends nows, permanently. I don’t know how he managed to get into the Windsor estate, let alone in my home, but he should’ve known better than to break into what should’ve been a highly secure vault and taking something my grandmother gave me.