Page 22 of Vicious Kingdom (Dynasty of Queens #3)

H is mouth said one thing, but his body betrayed him, telling me a different story.

Armed with that knowledge, I stopped my car in the secluded park along the banks of Lake Michigan.

It was Saturday evening, date night. The sun was lingering on the western horizon, bathing the area in a beautiful, cheerful glow.

Per the terms of the event, Baldwin was required to spend the evening with me. The fact that he hadn’t refused, that he was playing along with the farce, gave me the smallest bit of hope that there was an inkling of desire flickering in his chest to spend time with me.

I would capitalize on that.

As I exited my vehicle, I caught sight of him down on the sand. Don’t get cocky.

Damn, he looked good. What would it be like to fly across the distance and leap into his waiting arms? Memories of the past tickled my senses, and if I closed my eyes, I could feel those strong arms wrapped around me yet again.

But the timing wasn’t right.

We needed to heal, to build trust.

I had to make him believe what I already knew. Show him we were destined for one another. That we wouldn’t be happy until we were together.

I have to fix what I broke.

That was what this elaborate scheme was. A simple solution to a complicated problem that was left too long to fester.

Wandering to the sandy beach, hiding my limp with careful steps, I slipped off my shoes, keenly aware of the force of nature watching me at the edge of the picnic blanket.

My skin prickled with heat from his gaze.

“When your secretary sent the survey about my favorite things, I wasn’t sure what to expect,” I greeted the businessman. “It certainly wasn’t this.”

Leo was silent, watching me as I closed the distance. For a man who swore we were over, this was a tremendous effort.

I gave him a blistering smile.

Instead of returning it, his gaze hardened.

I refused to falter.

“Normally, this place is busy in the summertime,” I added, grasping for a topic of small talk. “Yet here we are, alone.”

He finally spoke. “Don’t you think that was by design?”

My heart did a ridiculous little flip. “You cleared the park? For us?”

Baldwin gestured to the blanket, and as I knelt, he joined me, plucking items from the wicker basket. There was a bottle of red. A cheeseboard and water crackers. And at the bottom….

“A torte,” I moaned. “Will you think badly of me if we start with that?”

His hands stilled. “So eager.”

I grinned. “When chocolate torte is involved, who wouldn’t be?”

Slowly, he lifted his hand before reaching out with determination to brush the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. The sensation sent a shock through my system.

We stared at one another, his touch warm, and the basket lay forgotten beside us.

The wine. The food. The grand romantic gesture.

They fell away as he continued to touch, his fingers tentative at first but gaining boldness, dancing lower with a featherlight caress.

Inches of space shrank to nothingness as he leaned forward.

Was this it? It seemed too easy, the distance closed, the intangible pull acknowledged.

Birds chirped in the distance, ominously cheerful and unaware of the tension between us. As they sang their song, I wondered if I was the only one feeling the electric spark in the intimate setting. It went straight to my head, dizzying me with disbelief.

He seemed to want this as much as I did.

The sensation sent a rush of liquid heat between my legs. It had been too long, and I dared to hope he would offer me the relief I craved.

But with him, it was more than the physical.

I could wait a little longer, if only he saw that.

His lips parted as if he might speak, but then they closed again, and he looked at me with a softness that was both familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

I waited breathlessly for the kiss. Was it possible?

It was more than I expected. I had planned to kiss him, to close the gap, and if the night went well, if all went according to my frantic hopes, I was prepared for much more to follow.

But was it truly happening this soon? I had to recalibrate my expectations, my heartbeat racing ahead of reason.

“Oh, Anna,” he murmured, almost wistfully. His thumb pressed against my rapidly beating pulse.

He wants me.

It was there, dark and glittering in his black eyes.

And then his fingers moved, spreading with a precision that seemed almost calculated, wrapping around my throat with a suddenness and violent force that was wholly unexpected.

The world lurched, and I gasped, but the air was cut off. My thoughts whirled in confusion, and Baldwin leaned forward until our noses nearly touched.

“You thought you were in charge. That you could charm me?” His voice dripped with cruel amusement, and I couldn’t breathe.

It felt impossible, this was happening, like waking into a nightmare.

I jerked, but he held tight.

“You stink of desperation,” he continued, words razor-sharp and merciless, slashing through the intimacy of the moment that had been so much softer just seconds before.

My heart plummeted, crashing with the weight of disbelief and an icy fear I hadn’t prepared for.

His mask dropped, and there was nothing left but contempt to fill the space between us. Instead of the hunger I so desperately wanted to see in his dark eyes, there was nothing but wrath, dangerous and caustic.

He squeezed harder, and I clawed at his hands, both of us tipping sideways.

I couldn’t believe that only moments ago I had dared to let myself hope.

Was this his plan all along? He’d teased me with such a beautiful gesture, lulled my mind into dreaming up idyllic thoughts, only to crush me.

My mind raced ahead, thoughts clashing and colliding as the truth sank in, as if I could solve the puzzle of his cruel counter move before the darkness overtook me.

I wanted to scream, but there was no air. I pushed against his body. I tried to wriggle free!

He pinned me beneath him. Effortlessly. Easily. His weight was enough to crush me.

Was he right? Maybe I was insane for thinking we had a chance to heal. Was his claim that it was over the only thing that had been true? I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t!

He gave the smallest, mocking smile.

For an awful moment, I thought he would let it end like this, my hopes bleeding out on the sand, my vision going black. I shut my eyes, expecting to lose everything.

And then, I relaxed—a display of submission. If he wanted to feel in charge, then so be it.

Then, with a noise of disgust, he released me with a shove.

I fell, gasping, hands flying to my neck. “What the hell?!”

Baldwin towered over me with a hard, savage look, watching as I choked on the air he gave back to me as if it were a favor.

“I would never stoop to be with such a pathetic, sad little socialite,” he growled. “And that’s all you’ll ever be.”

“Why are you being so cruel?” I gasped. “I never meant to hurt you!”

“To be hurt, I would have to care,” he growled.

His words said one thing. The look in his eye said another. He did care—cared too much.

“Can’t we just start over?” I pleaded. “We never got the chance to talk.”

“There’s nothing to say.” With that, he gave me a final shove and shot to his feet.

I rolled forward, my hands barely catching me as I struggled to brace myself on all fours. “There’s a lot to be said, if you would just listen to me!”

“We’re done, Annaliese.”

No, we’re not! “Do you want me to apologize for not telling you who I was? Because I am! I am so sorry I used a fake name. But it was real, Baldwin. Everything I said, everything we did—”

“No.” Leonard rose, wiping his hands on his pants. “Nothing was real.”

“You have to believe me,” I insisted. “I never meant to hurt you.”

But I had. I wounded him deeply.

“Enjoy your picnic and stay the hell away from me.” With that parting shot, he walked away. Moments later, his tires squealed as he pulled from the parking lot.

Stupid. Stupid me!

I thought I had him. I thought I played everything so well. But I hadn’t accounted for him being quite this angry.

“He’s a mobster,” I choked out. Spit dripped from the corner of my mouth, and I dashed it away with the back of my hand.

Of course, he would lash out. Men like him didn’t fear the law. They were used to taking matters into their own hands, playing with hearts and knives with equal effectiveness.

“You’ll see how it’s done,” I vowed, pushing back onto my haunches. “I’ll have you, Leonardo Mancini. We’re meant to be together, and someday you’ll quit fighting it.”

To keep myself from crying in defeat, I snatched the chocolate torte, tore the plastic top off, and began to dig into it. The soothing flavors and velvety texture did little to quell the storm in my chest.

If I let it be over, if I let his word be the final say…no. Not that. I didn’t spend the last five years exiled in Germany with my late grandmother, trying and failing to mend my broken heart, just to quit.

To accept the future my parents would force on me.

To be alone…even when standing in the crowd.

A single tear trickled down my face. He cared for me once, was as obsessed with me as I was with him. It could be that way again.

I rubbed my chest. The truth was that my heart was too fragile to take another rejection. An admission of defeat would break me.