• four •

And you’re the goddamn Mafia.

King

The biscuit I was about to put into my mouth was slapped out of my hand. My gaze collided with Maeme. She was not in grandmother mode. She was in pissed-off Maeme mode. She didn’t have to say a word. I already knew. She’d heard us. Damn. I had tried to keep it down, but then I’d also been unable to stay out of Rumor’s tight cunt.

“What are you doing?” she hissed at me.

“Trying to eat a biscuit,” I replied with a grin I hoped cooled off my heated grandmother.

She pointed her finger in my face. “That is not want I mean, and you know it.”

I stepped back and leaned against the edge of the sink. “I’m not gonna be able to stay away from her.” Might as well get that out there now. Nothing she was going to say could stop me.

“And what happens when she sees the news? Or someone says something to her about your engagement?” Maeme snapped.

Not what I wanted to dwell on this morning. I’d gotten my peace, buried deep inside Rumor last night. After an entire fucking day of having to set up a fictional relationship with Scotlin, I needed to have Rumor. She’d come to me so willingly, and, damn, it had eased all the shit in my head. Maeme reminding me about what had gone down yesterday wasn’t helping me. I was going to end up back in bed with Rumor.

“I’ll explain it to her,” I bit out through clenched teeth. “It’s not like it’s real.”

Maeme threw up her hands. “No one can know that.”

“Rumor can know,” I argued.

Although I wasn’t entirely sure I was allowed to tell her. Blaise hadn’t said anything about keeping it from Rumor.

“The more she knows, the more danger she will be in. You can’t tell her anything. Her safety is supposed to be our only concern. Not your need to fuck her.”

“Maeme,” I began, but she slapped a hand on my chest, harder than necessary.

“I want that girl to have happiness. I want her to have the life she’s never had. Don’t get her messed up in this. She isn’t strong enough for our world. We will protect her and make sure she has all she needs. But you?” She dug the tip of her nail into my chest. “You are going to mess around and break her heart.”

Footsteps upstairs stopped me from what I was going to say. Rumor was awake.

I had come here last night, needing to wash away the fake kiss I’d had to give Scotlin while we pretended to be out on the town together. Making sure pictures were taken of us at every hot spot in Atlanta. With me touching her. Pretending with her. Having her hands all over me. The engagement had to seem real when it was announced. Once we called it a night, I wanted a shower and to get Scotlin’s perfume off me. After that, I had been like a crazed man, needing a fix. Rumor being my fix.

“This could take months. You can’t have Rumor behind closed doors and successfully sell your engagement to Scotlin in public. The Derby is in ten days, and you have to go on the arm of Scotlin May. The diamond ring has to be on her hand and flashed around for all to see. Jupiter has already started the planning for the engagement party being held at Barrett and Annette’s in a month.”

My ears were trained on the footsteps upstairs.

“I’m telling Rumor. No more lies with her,” I repeated.

“You can’t,” she argued.

“Yes, I can.”

Maeme stalked across the kitchen. “Your father can deal with it.”

“I won’t lose her,” I said. “Try and understand that I need her.”

Maeme spun around and glared at me. “You’re being selfish.”

Was I? It didn’t feel selfish. It felt real. Like the most real thing in my life.

The footsteps faded, and I pointed to the ceiling to quiet Maeme. Rumor had walked out of her room and was probably headed to the stairs.

Maeme just shook her head and turned back to the cabinets and jerked one open.

I turned my gaze to the door, waiting on Rumor to appear. When she did, it was even better than I had anticipated. Her eyes swung to me, and the pink flush on her cheeks was so damn sweet that I wanted to toss her over my shoulder and take her back upstairs. The five-foot-tall woman currently pissed at me was the only reason I didn’t.

“Morning,” I said as I walked over to her.

The way she followed me with her eyes nervously but with a glint of pleasure had me forgetting the shit I was currently facing.

“Good morning,” she replied softly.

I reached for her hand and wrapped it in mine. “You gotta be hungry. Come eat,” I said, tugging her closer to me. “I’ll fix your plate.”

“Good Lord, let the woman breathe,” Maeme scolded from behind me.

I winked at Rumor before sliding a hand to her back and turning to face Maeme. “I was just being a gentleman, Maeme.”

My grandmother rolled her eyes and set the orange juice on the counter. “You have work to do. I’ll get Rumor fed. You can go.”

I had a meeting with the others at the Shephard Ranch. Blaise Hughes would be there on a video call. It wasn’t a meeting I wanted to be at, but I was required. Since it was me they were forcing to be fake engaged to Scotlin. All to weed out her father’s mole and to find out who had been leaving the notes on her car, stalking her. It was more than likely the same person, and the sooner he was found, the sooner I could stop pretending with Scotlin.

“I got twenty minutes,” I replied, not looking in Maeme’s direction.

“Go,” Rumor told me. “Don’t be late.”

I wanted to tell her about Scotlin before I left, but with Maeme breathing down my neck, it wasn’t going to be possible. I’d tell her tonight. Back at the cottage, where I wanted her. Not here with my grandmother making it difficult.

Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to Rumor’s lips. “Be at the cottage this evening. I’ll bring dinner,” I whispered.

She nodded.

I’d talk to her then. This was all going to be fine.

“Glad you could join us,” my father said, giving me a pointed look when I walked into Stellan Shephard’s office.

“Maeme cooked breakfast,” I replied with a shrug, taking a seat on the sofa beside Wilder and across from Thatcher, who was grinning at me, clearly not buying my excuse.

“It’s true then?” Wilder asked beside me. “You have caught feelings for a woman? I thought they were talking shit.”

I glanced at Wilder, willing him to shut the fuck up before looking at Stellan. “You want a recap on last night, or do I wait until the call with Blaise?”

Change of subject. Hopefully.

“You left Scotlin last night and went directly to Rumor,” my father pointed out.

“I left her at my fucking house. Isn’t that enough?”

Stellan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Scotlin’s safety is important.”

No shit. “I’m aware of that, and my house is safe. Not to mention the security that her father has on her.”

Stellan raised an eyebrow. “You are her security. The others are just there for looks.”

“They’re former Marines. One was a fucking sniper,” I pointed out.

“And you’re the goddamn Mafia!” my father shouted.

“Easy, Ronan,” Barrett Kingston said to my father, holding up a hand to stop him. “King always gets the job done.”

Thank you, Barrett!

“Yes, but before, he was never locked on a piece of ass,” my father shot back.

I was standing before I knew it. My annoyance had morphed into a full-blown rage. “Don’t,” I warned him. “Don’t call her that again.”

Thatcher let out a deep, low chuckle. “To think I didn’t want to come today. I’d have missed the fucking entertainment.”

“Shut up, Thatch,” Wilder told him.

“It’s time to call Blaise,” Stellan told the room. “This has to end. Now.”

Fine by me.

“Why? It’s his fucking fault. He’s the one who told King to fuck her,” Thatcher said as he lit up a cigarette. “Seems like his problem.”

“Thatcher,” Stellan warned his oldest son with a hard glare.

Thatcher took a long pull, then smirked in response. I’d love to agree with him, but I knew that even without Blaise’s orders to make Rumor want to stay, it would have happened. The bomb had been ticking. I’d been slowly giving in to what I wanted. And what I wanted was Rumor.

The ringing immediately ended, and Blaise Hughes appeared on the flat screen that covered a large portion of the far wall.

“Before we get started, Thatcher, you need to call Huck. We got a hit that needs to happen in Atlanta before noon,” Blaise said from where he was sitting behind his desk back in Ocala.

Thatcher stood up and put his cigarette out in the ashtray. “On it,” he replied before heading to the door.

“Take backup if you think you need it,” Blaise said.

“I don’t.” Thatcher smirked before opening the door and leaving.

“Storm, go with him,” Stellan ordered.

We all knew it wasn’t because he thought his oldest son needed backup. Sending Thatcher anywhere alone wasn’t smart. His twisted head would do more than kill whoever it was that Blaise wanted dead. If left to his own devices, he’d leave them nailed to a damn wall or some crazy execution-style shit.

Blaise leaned back in his chair. “Let’s get started.”