Page 90 of Merciless Heir
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sadie
The expression on his face is one of disbelief, and I don’t blame him.
“What the fuck are you saying?”
“What I said.” I lean forward. “I mean, I don’t think it was stolen.”
“Then someone’s doing this deliberately. Playing games.” His hands clench like he wants to destroy something, and his jaw is set with steel. “I don’t care if it’s some game with me, but the company on the line? That’s taking it too far.”
I lick my lips, trying to sort my thoughts. And I place my hand on his arm. “I didn’t say this was the kind of game designed to destroy you. And I don’t even know what game it is, or whether—”
“It was something planned.”
He doesn’t say this to finish my thought as I was about to say ‘or whether I’m right in this’, but since Kingston’s drawing conclusions from the dangling strands, I follow them.
His father, he’s thinking his father might have set this out.
“At this point,” I say, “it doesn’t matter if there’s a game or not. We pushed and we got a result. Right now, getting this to them matters. On your birthday.”
“Fuck all that. I’m not playing.” He stands, moving away from me.
“I’m not sure that’s an option, Kingston.”
He glares, but the rage isn’t for me. It’s the kind with no target, not one he can reach and the frustration is palpable. Inexplicably, I want to soothe him. I don’t move from the sofa.
“Whether it’s a test or not, whoever is behind this, right now it doesn’t matter. And I don’t think you not playing is an option,” I say again. “Not if you want to make sure the family flagship company stays in your family’s hands. And not if you want the actual tiara.”
“Unless, of course, it is stolen.”
“Then we’ll get it back. In the meantime…” I spread my hand to take in the fake. “We have that.”
But Kingston isn’t really caring about that. And I should have known. He’s a man who won’t rest until he has answers. Until he’s satisfied. I shiver. It’s a shiver made of begrudging respect and not a little lust. A man like him, oh yeah, does turn me on.
I drag my head and libido away from that and focus on the issue at hand.
“Jenson said fake. He knows.” Kingston swipes a hand through his dark hair.
“There are two options here. Jenson knows because he has the tiara, or he knows there’s a fake out there—”
“Which is suspicious.”
“I never said it wasn’t. I’m looking only at what we have.”
“You said two options,” he says. “What’s two?”
“That he’s bluffing.” I shrug. “We won’t know until we do, but this could explain why we’ve heard about it but not seen it. Why it hasn’t shown up for sale or why someone hasn’t bragged they have it.”
“Of course they fucking brag.”
I look at him. “You know this from your vast experience?”
“I know a lot of rich people.” Kingston says this in the way others talk about crossing the road. “Collectors brag.”
He has a point, but these collectors…they don’t brag to all and sundry. It’s a small set, and I tell him so.
Kingston leans against the wall, his expression hard, bordering on brooding, but I know he’s sorting things in his head. I might not know the man, but I know him, at least, part of him. How his fascinating brain works and I wait.