Page 60 of Merciless Heir
“Right back at you there, Sadie. You’re a criminal.”
“Now you’re being boring and repeating yourself. Ex criminal.”
I sip my drink, aware her mouth was right where mine was. There’s a smudge from lip balm that tastes faintly of honey.
And of her.
“And yet,” I continue, gazing at her, taking in the slight tenseness that comes to her, the dilation of her pupils when she looks at me as she waits. “I don’t think I’ve wanted someone more.”
“That me?”
“Just like you want me.”
She opens her mouth and the air thickens, but she closes it again and I can almost see her run.
“Neither of us are inclined to do anything about it,” I say.
She narrows her eyes. “That would be stupid.”
“Agreed.”
If I closed the gap right now, I could have her. We both know it. That knowledge pulses in the air like a living thing. I want her. I can’t deny that. I’ve been fighting it since I first saw her. And maybe dislike is wrong. Maybe it’s to do with trust. I don’t trust her.
But that doesn’t bother me, either.
Because I don’t hand out trust. Not often and not easily.
No, it’s something else I can’t quite define, something that goes down to the core of me.
So, I don’t do anything.
Sadie unwinds herself from the sofa and goes to the bar area and she grabs the reposado tequila and pours a healthy shot. Then she turns to me.
“Kingston?” she asks, voice quiet, “ever think about looking into your mother?”
Chapter Sixteen
Sadie
“Do you want to explain yourself?” he asks after a moment’s silence.
There’s no censure in his voice, no anger. Just mild curiosity.
Everything in me goes on high alert at that.
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant, Sadie,” Kingston says, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He’s wearing a suit. No doubt one that’s bespoke. And it’s devastating on him.
I’m beginning to think he’s just devastatingly gorgeous, no matter what he wears. But this one does things to a woman. It’s blue. Not banker blue. This is the darkest midnight blue that both manages to be classic and have an edge that’s utterly him.
Jesus. Next I’ll be waxing lyrical over his shoes. Or cufflinks, or— I stop.
“I’ve been thinking about why the tiara went missing in the first place.”
“Someone was careless?” He shrugs. “You tell me. You’re also working for her. You’re not the first. She hired my brother Ryder’s fiancée. Although for completely different things. Elliot’s not a high-end society criminal.”
I come back around to him and sit again. I don’t want to. I want to go stand at the other end of the library. Or in another room. Or another apartment. In another building.