Page 1 of Romancing His Heart

Prologue

Loki

Twelve Years Ago

“Loki? My name is Michael Anderson. I’m an agent with the FBI, and this is my partner, Margaret Childs. We were wondering if we could speak with you, son?”

“This boy just lost his parents. Is it necessary to do this right now?” Mr. Westbrook’s tone is uncharacteristically icy.

“Who are you?” the woman asks, taking a troubling step forward.

“Clinton Westbrook. I’m Loki’s acting guardian, and I will ask you again, does this need to happen right now?” Repositioning his body, he attempts to block me from view.

“Sir, I’m afraid it does. Loki’s biological father—”

“Yes …” Mr. Westbrook gives me an unreadable look, so I focus on the ground in front of me.

I’m nervous and unable to control my fidgeting as I shift my weight from foot to foot.

“We’ve known since Loki was a child. We are very aware of what lies ahead.”

My head whips to his.What has he known since I was a child?There is no way he knows that my biological sperm donor is a lying, murdering piece of mob shit. I move to his side, and Mr. Westbrook puts an arm around me.

“Loki has always been family. Now he’s in my care, and I’ll treat him as my own. That means I will use everything at my disposal to protect him.” Mr. Westbrook’s voice doesn’t waver or catch. He stands tall in his decision, and I wonder how much he actually knows. Surely he wouldn’t put his family at risk by taking me in if he knew everything.

“You can stop all that worrying right now,” Mrs. Westbrook whispers, coming up behind me. “We made your parents a promise a long time ago, and we intend to stand by that promise.” She wraps me in one of her famous hugs.

“But—”

“No buts.” She turns her attention to the agents and narrows her eyes. With one hand on her hip, she points her finger at them. “I have five boys in that building about to riot. Let me get them in the car with my friend, Grace, and then we can have this chat you are insisting on.” She turns, then adds, “Even if it is at the most inappropriate time imaginable.”

Both agents look down at their feet. If you’ve never been chastised by Mrs. W, consider yourself lucky.

“Yes, ma’am,” they reply in unison.

Mr. W still has an arm around me protectively, and I take comfort in his strength for as long as I can. As soon as these agents tell them my entire story, I can say good-bye to them and my friends. I’ll truly be alone in this world, but I will make Antonio Black pay for taking away everything and everyone I have ever cared about.

He will pay for his crimes.

I don’t know how long we stand in the funeral home parking lot, but it feels like an eternity. Mr. W must think the same thing.

“Are you planning to discuss his father’s misdeeds right here in the parking lot?” He asks pointedly.

The agents straighten but say nothing.

My body goes rigid. “He is not my father,” I grind out.

Mr. Westbrook glances down at me with kind eyes. While Preston and I are in the same grade, I am two years younger and have yet to hit the growth spurt my mother assured me was coming.

“No, he isn’t. You’re right, son. What would you like us to call him?”

It’s out of my mouth before I can censor it, “Is ‘cocksucker’too good for him?”

The Westbrooks are a boisterous family, but they’re still traditional in many ways, and I immediately want to punch myself when I feel him shake next to me. Gathering all the courage a fifteen-year-old can, I dare a peek and find him chuckling next to me.

“I think cocksucker is probably too good for him. Plus, I don’t believe Sylvie would approve. How about if we just call him Black-hole for now? It can be our little secret.” He smirks, squeezing my shoulder, and a small smile pulls at the corner of my lips.

“Mr. W?” My voice falters, and he stares straight into my eyes, then gives a brisk nod.