Page 1 of Sins of a King

Prologue

There’s a beast inside all of us. Most people never know it’s there. It lies dormant, buried deep in the cavern of the psyche.

They are the lucky ones.

But some are born with the beast unfettered, and there’s no chaining or muzzling its slathering, snapping jaws.

In them, it reigns.

My once quiet beast has emerged.

It wants blood, desires destruction and vengeance.

For me, there’s no going back.

Chapter 1

The hostess looked up from her computer screen, glossy blond hair styled in a trendy side bun I never could’ve pulled off. The svelte woman looked me over in that quick way that told me she was judging everything about me, but her smile was polite.

I knew she wouldn’t find fault in my appearance. My auburn hair fell in lush waves down past my shoulders, and I’d even worn contact lenses instead of my usual tortoiseshell glasses. My black pumps were three inches high, and though my onyx-colored dress was simple, it hugged my form in all the right places.

“May I help you?” she asked with just a hint of snootiness, which was inherently part of the Upper East Side.

“Has Andrew Schaefer checked in yet?” I asked.

“Yes, he checked in fifteen minutes ago. He’s already at the table.”

I trailed after her, maneuvering through the dimly lit French restaurant, noticing the pristine white tablecloths ironed to perfection, topped with delicate china and flanked by elegant silverware. The quiet hum of conversations was steady, but trailed off as we arrived to a more secluded area in the back of the restaurant. She pointed to my brother who sat at a table in the corner and then left.

Andrew stood as soon as he saw me, face devoid of emotion. I’d learned long ago not to expect any compliments from him.

My brother could be considered handsome; he was average height with a decent build, brown hair, and dark brown eyes. His overall personality left a lot to be desired. It apparently worked for him since he was a trader on Wall Street.

“You’re late,” he said, not bothering to pull out my chair for me.

“Department meeting ran long.”

“I guess I should be glad you managed to change before dinner instead of coming here in work attire.”

I let his acerbic, critical tone brush past me. We rarely saw one another despite the fact that we lived in the same city. We had separate lives, and I preferred it that way. So did he.

Usually.

He reached for his cocktail and took a healthy swallow, and before he even finished his drink, he snapped his fingers to gain the waiter’s attention. When the server arrived, I shot him an apologetic look, but he was clearly used to attending to all sorts of people because he didn’t even appear annoyed.

“I’ll have another,” Andrew said rudely, lifting his near-empty rocks glass.

“Absolutely,” the veteran waiter replied. He glanced at me. “And for you, ma’am?”

“Water’s fine, thanks.”

“Get a drink,” Andrew commanded.

Andrew was in a mood, so I asked for a glass of house red. Alcohol might grease the tension between us. It couldn’t hurt.

After the server disappeared, I turned to my brother. “Should we just get on with it? You clearly don’t want to be here, and I don’t want to be here. Pull out the papers and I’ll sign them.”

“That’s not why I wanted to have dinner.”