Page 1 of Wild King

CHAPTER ONE

Kellen

The headof King Industries stares at me across his desk with the look of accusation that’s become so commonplace that you’d think I’m a convicted criminal and not his brother. The guy has everything he’s ever wanted, and still it’s like he’s not happy. Even worse, he’s made it his life’s mission to quash any happiness I might ever find in this life.

“Kellen, do you have anything to say about this?” Matthias asks in a voice that matches his expression.

Accusatory. It’s actually beginning to piss me off.

“Matthias, I’ve told you over and over. I didn’t do anything illegal, so why are you getting your shorts in a bunch? We had a good time. That’s it. I can prove it. Hang on.”

He returns to his handwringing about how things have changed and yadda yadda yadda. I swear he was born stressed out. It’s actually surprising he hasn’t stroked out by now. If this is what being nearly thirty is like for him, I can only imagine how middle age is going to be.

Hopefully, I’m not in the same hemisphere as he is when that time rolls around.

I fish my phone out of my suitcoat pocket and bring up all the text messages from the persons involved in this latest effort of my brother to make a mountain out of a molehill. Setting the phone in front of him on his desk, I point at the texts and smile like the innocent man I am.

“See? You can read them all. I gathered them up into a nice folder for you. Nothing but a good time. No one made any promises of forever. These women liked me. I liked them. Nature took its rightful course. No harm. No foul. Now if I can go, I’ve got a weekend to plan.”

He scours each text, fixating on every word like he’s trying to break a code or solve some mystery. Sorry, big brother. There’s nothing in those messages but grown adults having fun.

Finally, Matthias pushes my phone back toward me, but he’s shaking his head. What the hell could be wrong now? I just showed him absolute proof I did nothing wrong.

“Has it ever occurred to you that not everything you do needs to be part of texts? Jesus, Kellen. What if some trashy magazine got a hold of those?”

“I’d be the most popular man in America? Relax. Seriously. Grown men and women sometimes like to list what they want to do or have done to them. It’s not a big deal. Christ, don’t you know how to have a good time anymore?”

That’s assuming he ever did, which I’m highly doubtful was ever the case. My brother is the poster child for responsibility, and except for one glaring exception, he’s never done anything that could possibly make anyone think he doesn’t always follow the rules.

Before he can defend his choices as having a good time, I snatch up my phone and turn to leave. “This has been a little slice of heaven, as always, big brother. I’m going to go plan a fewglorious days of fun for myself. I’d suggest you do the same, but I already know that isn’t going to happen. Remember, we have a three day weekend, so I’ll see you on Tuesday!”

As I head for his office door, he once again warns me to make sure I stay out of trouble. He wishes. My fondest hope for the next couple days is I get into as much trouble as my body can handle.

I wave at him and without looking back say, “Got it! Straight and narrow. Have a great weekend!”

Stretchingmy arms above my head, I let out a heavy groan after a long day. I definitely work too hard, especially on days I actually come into the office. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. It’s not like I need the money. I’ve been a billionaire since the day I was born, so I could theoretically lay around in bed until dinner every day and then party until dawn, repeating that over and over, day after day, until I die.

That sounds boring as fuck, though. It also sounds lame since I’m young, wealthy, and able to do whatever I want in life.

So why do I choose to work at the family business as a subordinate to my oldest brother? It’s complicated. I blame my father.

Something in my DNA makes me want to succeed in business, so I might as well work at King Industries. I’m not thrilled with having to work under Matthias, especially now after all that’s happened this year, but at any other company I’d have to start much lower on the totem pole, even with my MBA.

So why not work at the family business?

If my father had been able to see past that eldest son delusion he had his entire life, I would have been the one he chooseto head the company when he died. It makes sense. I actually give a damn about King Industries and went to school to be in the position to run it. My oldest brother doesn’t even have a graduate degree. True, he did get a degree in business and did well at Cornell, but it’s not like he ever liked the idea of having to work at King Industries. He’s always been more artistic than business minded.

But since he won in the birth order lottery, Matthias got to be the head of the company and I got to accept that my abilities will likely go to waste for years while I wait for him to walk away and be the family man and artist he’s always dreamed of being. It’s not my idea of how to live my life, but whatever.

With the impending arrival of his first child, I might get the chance to take over the reins for at least a little while as he coos over my nephew or niece and changes diapers like Daddy of the Year. Again, not my idea of fun, but my brother and I have never been that similar.

The one brother I always felt closest to was Theo. That brother knew how to have a good time. Not that Marius and Ronan don’t, but Theo and I never failed to find some fun together.

I close my eyes as thoughts of him smiling and laughing fill my mind. It’s been six months since Matthias called me to say Theo died in a race, and I swear the sadness I felt that day hasn’t eased one bit in all that time. I want to remember him as the guy I knew who always chose to have fun, but that’s smothered by how much I miss him.

Shaking my head to get rid of those feelings, I look down at my desk and see my phone lighting up with messages. I don’t even have to check to see who they’re from because it’s been this way for the past three days. Text after text from the same person.

Gina, the woman I had a good time with but never wanted more than that. Now she’s blowing up my phone about how shethought we were serious. I can’t imagine why she believed that, though. I don’t exactly give off the settle down vibe.