Page 130 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Cade

That was yesterday. I gave her precisely ten minutes to meet my sister and distract her.

Then I headed inside the ballroom and ran into Liam Kincaid, one of my classmates from the private school I went to.

The school where I was the captain of the cricket team, the person who aced all the tests.

The only kid who’d won a scholarship to that prestigious school.

I’d been head and shoulders above any of my peers…

Until that fateful day when she betrayed me.

I shake my head. Why is it that the more I try to forget her, the more I remember her past transgressions?

The more I try to keep my distance from her, the more I’m pulled toward her.

Maybe, this entire idea of insinuating myself back in her life is a mistake.

I set out to hurt her, but maybe… I'm the one who’s going to be hurt instead.

I chin-jerked at Liam before heading up the stairs and toward the room where the hostess indicated I'd find Zara.

As I neared the room, it became evident Liam and I were both headed toward the same destination.

Liam told me he was headed to meet his wife, Isla, who was inside.

I told him Zara was my sister. He seemed taken aback, then accepted it.

I walked in on his heels, to find that Abby had already been and gone.

I spoke to Zara, made peace with Hunter, then left. I found Abby waiting by the exit. We headed toward where my limo was waiting for us. I dropped her home, and as much as I wanted to follow her in, I decided not to. I walked her to her apartment, made sure she was inside safely, then left.

I didn’t sleep much. Every time I closed my eyes, her big, sad face filled my vision.

Goddamn. Clearly, I'm still attracted to her. Even after all these years, and knowing what she did to me, I find her eminently fuckable. I haven’t shagged her yet; perhaps, that’s why I'm thinking about her so much.

Sure, I followed her career over the years, kept tabs on her, so I knew how she looked.

But seeing her in real life was a punch to the gut.

She's so much more gorgeous, so much more ethereal, so much more perfect in real life.

And that's all the more reason to ensure I have my revenge. Once I do, I can leave. Turn my back on her and never have to think of her again. Maybe, that’s when I’ll finally be able to move forward with my life.

My phone buzzes. I sit up in bed, snatch my phone and see the number. It’s not one I recognize. I hesitate, then accept the call.

"Hello?"

There’s a crackling sound, then: "King, is that you?"

"Knight?" I swing my legs over the side of the bed. "Where are you calling from?"

"You know I can’t tell you that."

I laugh. "Of course, you can’t. On a top-secret mission then, I take it?"

"My lips are sealed, but I wanted to call you and find out how you are."

I frown. Does he know that I reconnected with his sister?

I know Knight and Abby stay connected, but he and I never speak about Abby.

As far as Knight is concerned, Abby and I fell out after that incident in high school and we haven’t spoken to each other since.

Which we hadn’t. Until a few days ago, that is.

"You don’t have to get all suspicious on me." I hear the smirk in his voice. "I’m simply being a good friend and calling to make sure you aren’t overdoing the party scene."

"Me, and party?" I respond innocently.

He laughs again. "There’s not one innocent bone in your entire body, King. And since you’re not denying it outright—"

"I was at a party last night," I admit.

"I knew it. How was it? Good whiskey, I take it? And beautiful girls, no doubt?" His voice sounds wistful.

"Do you miss it?" I run my fingers through my hair. Strange, how I’ve never really taken the time to ask him how being on the British Secret Service actually panned out for him. At least, I assume he's on a government mission. I know he's one of a handful of elite professionals trained by the army to execute special missions. Whether that makes him a soldier, or something more than that—my guess is the latter—is not something he’s ever shared. And I won’t ask. The man has enough on his shoulders. I don’t want to add to whatever weight he's already carrying. But you’d make his sister’s life miserable?

I rise to my feet and begin to pace. "Do you, Knight? If you don’t want to tell me that’s fine—"

"I miss it. More than the lifestyle, I miss the softness of a woman."

I blink. That’s more than he’s let on in the past. It’s the first time he’s given me the tiniest glimpse into what his life is like. "You have a girlfriend?"

He laughs. "With my nomadic life, not likely. And when I’m on a mission, no way, can I risk being involved with someone. It would only put them in danger." He blows out a breath.

"You okay, man?" I ask softly.

There’s silence, then, "I will be. Provided you tell me all about your high rollin’ lifestyle so I can live vicariously."

"You could have had it. You were as much of an athlete as I am. You were better than me at all sports. You could have been captain of the English cricket team and been in the media spotlight."

He chuckles. "Not likely. Hate having to pander to news people, in any form."

"But you’re fine pandering to your chain of command?"

There’s silence again, then, "There’s always a logic to what I’m told to do. There’s a structure, a goal at the end of the assignment that drives me."

"You’re more focused than I am. More present. More…gutsy. More everything."

This time the silence stretches before he responds, "Are you okay, man?"

"Yes, why?" I scowl.

"Cade 'the King' Kingston, admitting someone is better than him? Never thought I’d see the day."

My neck heats. "Well, let’s not repeat that to anyone else. I have a reputation to protect."

"Speaking of, did you score last night?"

I clear my throat. "Actually, no. I was home and asleep in my bed before two a.m."

Knight whistles. "The King sleeps in his own bed for the first time in months, if not years, then?"

I shake my head. "I’m training, Knight. I need to get at least four hours of sleep."

"You mean, gone are the days when you’d party till dawn, then run ten miles the next day?"

"I still do that, only I stop partying earlier."

"Never thought I’d see the day," he chuckles.

"And you? Do you train as part of your regimen?"

"You know I do. And I can’t tell you more than that."

"But you're on a secret mission, aren’t you?"

"It’s secret for a reason," he counters.

"Right, sorry, don’t mean to push."

"It’s fine. It’s a bloody shame I can’t share more. Especially with the family."

"Speaking of—" I pause, draw in a breath. "Your sister—"

"Let’s not talk about her, King. You know my feelings on that."

"I know you’ve said you don’t want to discuss her with me—"

"And I don’t talk about you to her. It’s the only way I can have a relationship with the both of you."

I wince. "I never expected you not to. She’s your family."

"And she was wrong in what she did. And she knows it. And she knows how I feel about it. And the truth is, she’s tortured herself with it ever since it happened.

She thinks I don’t see it, but I do. The thing is, I want both of you in my life.

And the only way to do that is to stick to my rule of not talking about one of you to the other. "

"If you’re sure—"

"I am, I—" Someone calls his name from the side. "I gotta go, man, good talking to you."

"Stay in touch, Knight, you—"

The phone cuts out. I toss the device on the bed, stare at it for a minute, then walk through the sliding doors and onto the balcony that overlooks the city.

Unlike most Londoners, I prefer not to live in a hundred-year-old Victorian building.

This newly built, luxury condominium is more to my taste.

Not only do I have the penthouse—obviously—but I also have, and this is a big plus, a housekeeping service that comes by discreetly and cleans the place when I’m not around. Which is much of the time.

I’ve never had a problem being on the road.

In fact, I’ve welcomed it. Being away meant I didn’t have to think about my past or my parents—who I haven’t been in touch with—or beat myself up over the fact that I wasn’t as good a brother to Zara as I should have been.

As I should be now. At least, she’s always been independent, which alleviates my guilt somewhat.

And then there’s Abby, and the fact that she’s constantly on my mind.

And I’m in touch with her brother. What sort of a man plots to take revenge on a woman when her brother is his best friend?

The kind who has no conscience. Anyway, didn’t Knight, himself, say that what Abby did to me was wrong?

And that she knows it. She deserves what’s coming to her.

Whatever happens between Abby and me is of no concern to anyone else. Not even Knight.

I grip the handrail, and gaze at the city that stretches out in front of me.

The place where I grew up. Where I plan to live up to my nickname and be the King of not only the headlines, but also of the corporate world.

I’ve been investing everything I earn into building up my business and seeing the returns on my capital is almost as sweet as hitting the ball against my opponent.

Speaking of, I need to get to practice, but first… I have somewhere else I need to be.

I pivot, head inside, jump into the shower and am dressed in under ten minutes.

I grab my kit and head out the door. When I pull up in front of her apartment, my heart jumps in my chest. I’m not excited to see her.

I’m not. It’s the adrenaline rush that comes with the prospect of the upcoming practice session.

I love the outdoors and given the only matches I’ll get to play until March are overseas, it’s important for me train and keep fit.

Yep, that’s the only reason my heart thumps in my chest. It’s the only reason my pulse is racing.

It’s why my breathing speeds up as I jump out of the car, then key in the code for the entrance of her apartment block—I watched her key in the code last time—and run up the stairs.

When I reach her apartment, I’m not even winded.

I slide the key from my pocket, open the door and walk in—through the living room into the bedroom where she’s sleeping under the covers.

Her arm is flung out to the side, her thick hair flowing about her shoulders.

Her features are flushed in her sleep. I watch her eyeballs move behind her closed eyelids.

Is she dreaming? She turns on her back and flings off the cover.

I draw in a sharp breath. Her sleep shirt is bunched about her waist. Her panties are a swatch of white lace between her lush thighs.

She parts them, then slides her fingers under the waistband.