Page 7 of The Spare (The King Dynasty #2)

Chapter four

Side Eyes

One and a half years later

M y eyes pop open at four forty-five on the dot, fifteen minutes before my alarm.

I look over, thankful to be in the tastefully decorated bedroom at my sister's house instead of the drab dorm I live in during the week at the college.

Not because it particularly excites me to be here, but because at least while I'm here I don't have my security guy so obviously tailing me all the time.

I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, stretching my arms above my head.

I reach over and turn the lamp on, and then pull my bonnet off as I work to roll my neck.

The curls tumble down my back and I shake my head, fluffing them out slightly.

It's day three, the best natural hair day for me.

Yawning, I grab my workout gear laid out on the ornate, one-person desk on the other side of the room along with my phone, seeing a text notification already from Mason, my brother-in-law's brother.

The man I'm hopelessly in love with.

I read it as I pad barefoot across the cool hardwood floor to the en-suite bathroom, rubbing the crust out of my eyes.

Are you up yet butterfly? Would you like a ride to King Compound? -Mase

King Compound, or affectionately dubbed 'KC' by Mason and I, is the hub of the family.

You miss too many of those weekend breakfasts then you'll get treated to a phone call from Richard King himself.

Not having had a father, Richard and I have become particularly close and disappointing him makes me uncomfortable, so I go to keep the peace.

I tend to keep to myself during these visits.

I eat, say a couple words, and then hightail it to the nearest sitting room or library, claiming I have homework, where I hide out until it's time to leave. It's the only thing that Henny asks of me: that I make it to these brunches.

But his father, oh boy.

Though he's sweet on me, that first year getting to know Richard King was quite something, especially when he'd laid into one of the men for even a slight transgression. The man has a snappy temper that will scare even the most rebellious person straight. Look at Mason; he's sure been reformed.

Though, there's still a bad boy in there sometimes when he lets it out. Which is never.

He's done a complete one-eighty transformation from the man I met just four years ago.

Since then, he's joined his brother's business, moved onto a floor in the King Dynasty building, and bought his own penthouse.

The last I heard, his finance business garnered King Dynasty an added three hundred million in profit this year alone, and we have a few more months to go until the New Year.

See? Mason's miles away from the fuck up -as Richard and Henny used to call him- that he used to be.

I barely recognize him anymore.

He's morphed into this almost untouchable persona of who he used to be. Though he's still quite clever, he's got a sexy hint of danger to him that only seems to inhabit men who have unlimited amounts of money.

The Mason of today wouldn't want me. And I don't even know why I entertained thoughts that he would for as long as I have. Wait, yeah I do; I'm foolish. And so, I've pulled back on how much access I let him have when I do hear from him. Today though, I'm feeling generous.

And besides, if I ignore him now, he's only going to be up my ass about it later when he sees me. That's something that doesn't change.

I throw my clothes on the nearby bench in the bathroom, flicking the light on and blinking sleepily.

It's a beautiful space with a heated marble floor, freestanding soaker tub, a shower big enough for at least three people and stocked with expensive, high quality hair products.

The window looks towards the East grounds outside.

My room faces the tennis court, looking down on Mariah's life-sized dollhouse and her playground.

But of course you can't see it because it's still dark outside.

The property is currently illuminated by strategically placed lights that highlight the admittedly stunning landscaping.

Turning from the window, I sigh as I pull my hair into a high bun and reply back.

I don't think my sister would appreciate that very much. I'm at Hendrix and Isobel's this weekend. -Mel

Brushing my teeth, I watch the text bubbles appear, fighting off the anxious emotions I feel when I talk to him. Butterflies erupt in my stomach just like it does every time he messages me. I spit and rinse my mouth as it comes through.

Ohhh. Lucky you. You're not at your mom's this weekend? -Mase

I shimmy out of my pajamas, kicking them to the side and wiggle my toes on the warm floor.

She's in the Bahamas for the weekend with her friends, remember? – Mel

Starting the shower, I put a playlist over the speakers and think about Mason. Though we were close the first couple years of Isobel and Hendrix's marriage, he's thrown himself head first into his business, and these last two years he's become increasingly unavailable the more successful he gets.

Except for when I see him at the infamous King family brunches their parents host every Sunday, and roughly two times a month when I beg him for soda. I roll my eyes and bite back a goofy grin at the reminder.

I lost a bet years ago, and now, the only time I can have my favorite soda is when he sees me in person. And he always makes me get on my knees for it.

I wonder if he realizes how sexual that looks. I honestly don't think it's ever crossed his mind.

Ah. Was hoping to have some time to catch up without our family there. Is there any juicy gossip you can share? -Mase

I smirk and lean my hips on the vanity to reply. Mason loves dishing and collecting all the dirt going on in the family. It's part of what's kept us close, especially in the beginning.

So close that I developed feelings for him like an idiot.

Feelings that at one point I'd thought had been reciprocated, and I foolishly harbored hope that Mason would come for me. But my eighteenth birthday came and went, then my nineteenth. And with my twentieth birthday in two weeks, I've all but given up.

I sigh and look down at my phone, typing a reply. A harsh reply…but Mason will understand.

He always does.

Other than the fact that Isobel seems to be more overbearing with this pregnancy than she was with Mariah, and King's turned into a little Isobel worshipping pussy whipped bitch? No. -Mel

Honestly, I gave up hope a while ago, and tried my hardest to move on and forget how I feel about Mason. But every man I've involved myself with over the last almost two years winds up disappearing .

Now, I've developed a reputation at NYU as that girl that no one wants to date because you'll be doxed, like I'm cursed or something. I was freaked out for a quite a while, thinking that I was being targeted like Isobel was. But King assures me that my security has my safety in hand.

Isobel wouldn't even let me switch schools so I could have a fresh start.

So, here I am, about to turn twenty, still a fucking virgin. At a school where everyone talks about me and with no love life to speak of. It's depressing. I can't even work so that I can make my own money to leave.

I have no autonomy.

No. That all ended the day I fell into King at the running trail almost four years ago.

I'd pay you so much money to say that to their faces. -Mase

I arch a brow, snorting. I might have a chance at a getaway after all.

How much? -Mel

Fifteen grand. -Mase

My brow arches. Steam fills the bathroom, reminding me I'm supposed to be getting in the shower.

Tempting, but have you ever pissed off a pregnant woman before? It's not worth it. See you at K.C. -Mel

I put the phone down and step into the shower, rushing through as I lost precious minutes texting.

When I step out, I towel off, pull on my workout gear and walk back out in the bedroom to pull on my sneakers.

Putting in my headphones I stride out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Smack dab into Marianne.

"Hey, Marianne. Good mornin'!" I greet Isobel's head maid who is setting up a ladder, preparing to dust the chandeliers that illuminate the space.

I shake my head. Chandeliers in hallways. Who would have thought that'd be our lives?

Not me.

"Hey, Mel! Good to see you, girlie!" she calls out to me, grabbing her feather duster and stepping on the rung. "Have fun on your run."

I swing my head to the side, making sure that someone's there in case she falls. Relaxing when I see Gustavo a couple doors down the hallway switching with the night shift outside of Mariah's bedroom door.

Hitting the playlist I want, I break out into a light jog, making my way to their in-home gym and then hit the treadmill hard. I do nine miles before I call it quits and then bake in the sauna for twenty minutes so I don't get cramps.

It's a luxury I'm not afforded at school so I take advantage of it when I'm here.

As I sit, I think about school and what I can do to get Isobel to be okay with me going to work.

The fact that I'm well into adulthood and can't even make my own decisions is a prison I'd never thought I'd find myself in, and I need a way out.

Sometimes I think I'd even kill for it.

"Is that what you're wearing?" Isobel says .

I fight like hell not to roll my eyes as hers drag judgmentally down my body.

"What's wrong with it, Izzy?" I ask in an exasperated tone, folding my arms and looking to the side.

We're standing on the concrete steps outside the front, waiting for Hendrix to wrangle Mariah in her car seat in the back of the car.

Isobel's eyes snap to mine. "Jesus. Did you miss your run this morning or something?" She rubs her swollen belly, rocking side to side.

"No. I did nine miles. Why?"

"Because you're acting like you found out someone shit in your cheerios this morning," she says, gingerly making her way down the steps as Hendrix motions for us to come on.