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

H e hates me.

A long sigh made my body shake. Did I expect anything different? No…but if I was being honest, I hoped he would at least be civil. Instead, the one man I couldn’t get out of my system was cruel and scathing.

I trudged up the stone staircase, each step a massive exertion.

The sounds of happiness grated on my ears.

The country club was busy tonight, since there were no big society events to steal the patrons away.

I paused at the edge of the patio. Since I’d come with my parents, it wasn’t going to be easy to slip away.

While a rideshare was easy enough to summon, it was my mother who stood in my way.

Debating if I should just text her and save the argument for when I got home as to why I wasn’t mingling after my years abroad, her voice summoned me.

Plastering a fake smile on my face, I sauntered to where she sat around a glass firepit with a group of society ladies.

Her eyes widened seeing my heels in my hand.

I dangled them from my fingertip. “Strap broke.”

“Ah! I have those same shoes,” Maureen gushed. “Picked them up over the winter in Milan.”

No, you don’t, I almost blurted out. These were a bargain from a tiny outlet mall just down the road from Soldier Field.

“Sit, sit!” Monica insisted. “Tell us all about your college experience in Germany.”

I stifled a humorless chuckle in my throat.

Did she really want to know that I took enough classes to graduate, but barely aced the exams?

Saying that aloud would give my mother the heart attack genetics pre-disposed her to have.

I wasn’t a scholar. Never planned to be.

My interests lay in one specific field, and that wasn’t condoned by my parents or their friends.

It hurt not telling people I wrote some of the bestselling books on the market. While I didn’t need their approval and praise, it sucked keeping such an accomplishment to myself.

Summoning the half-truths and excuses to keep my secrets, I smiled. This social obligation wasn’t going anywhere, so I might as well get it over with. And since the object of my every thought was fuming down by the lake, I sat.

While my mouth answered their questions and related the highlights of the past five years in as little detail as possible, my brain schemed.

After trying to eradicate the businessman from my mind, body, and soul failed, I had to come to terms that we were destined to be together.

As forbidden as a match with him would be if I suggested it outright, there were ways to lay kernels and pebbles.

Until now, I hoped the path to success was clear.

Leo ruined me for all other men.

And now, I would rather have him even if he hated me for eternity than let him go. I frequently told myself it was pathetic. But I chose to twist the negative into a positive and call the determination romance.

One of the bigger obstacles—besides the fact that Leo was angry—was that he didn’t know that I knew that he was part of the criminal underworld.

He thought his secret was safe. I still hadn’t devised a way to tell him I discovered it.

I was saving that revelation for a future self to deal with.

His sister assured me when we reconnected the other day on the pleasure cruise that Leo didn’t know she and I were best friends.

And thank the lord, we were still friends! After all this time, after very few interactions, we picked up where we left off with our friendship.

“Their divorce will be finalized in a month,” Leah confided, talking about the couple the women were currently gossiping about. The woman was spinning her own wedding ring, but the look in her eye was that of pure hunger.

My mother shot me a pointed look.

I swallowed a groan.

“It’s a pity Paul couldn’t be here tonight,” Mom sighed dramatically.

Leah shook her head. “His brother-in-law is here. It would have been ugly.”

Mom pouted. “Paul hasn’t been to any gatherings this spring.”

Geesh! It was like she wanted to marry the trust fund brat-turned-politician.

It would have been a far less tragic event than pushing him on her daughter.

I hadn’t been in the States five minutes before she was unloading all the juicy details about Paul Preston III’s high-profile divorce on me.

She’d even bluntly suggested I snatch him now before the papers were signed, so that I had him when he was a free man.

Little did she know that I was technically engaged. It was all too easy to forget I had a fiancé. There were no good morning messages or sleep well texts. We’d chatted on the phone once, but it was simply to discuss his plans for coming to Chicago.

It would be so much simpler to cut David loose.

He was hardly a footnote at this point. But I kept the option available should I need to throw it at my mother to dodge a setup with someone of her choosing.

“Your brother-in-law is still single, right?” Maureen wondered, even though she knew damn well my uncle had been a widower for the last fifteen years.

“Funny how no one has snapped him up,” Mom sighed. “He’s so popular. So well liked.”

“His son is too,” Kennedy said dreamily, wandering into the sitting area and plopping down beside me. “Too bad you’re cousins, or you could chase him!”

I gagged in my mouth.

“You know, I’m getting a headache,” I lamented. “I think I’m going to call it an early night.”

Around me, sympathetic coos and condolences sang out in a chaotic symphony. I wasn’t sure which was worse, those fake noises or the deathly glare from my mother.

I made my escape. But as I waited near the valet stand in front of the main lodge, a matte black sports car screamed out of the parking lot.

I knew instantly who owned it. Like any good author, I did my research on my character’s profile.

Watching his fading taillights, I rubbed my arms, bracing against the sudden rush of chilly wind.

That man wasn’t escaping this time. Nothing he could say or do would stop the story unfolding, especially since I was the one writing it.

***

“We on for drinks later this week?” Penelope asked.

I adjusted the phone as I exited the car. “Yeah! Definitely.”

“Alessio won’t let me go anywhere too popular,” the mafia queen pouted.

“We could always stay in?” I offered. Our friendship was newer, but ever since our mutual friend—and her sister-in-law—Serena introduced us on a party yacht, we hung out often. While Serena would always be my oldest friend, Penelope was fast becoming an important part of my life.

“Ooh! We could make mixed drinks!” Penelope squealed.

I smiled, pulling off my shoes as I trudged up the stairs. “It’s on!”

After another intense exchange, where she nearly rattled off an entire bar menu of drinks to try making, we ended the call.

I stumbled into my room, feeling the weight of the evening roll off my shoulders.

Social gatherings could be fun. I enjoyed people-watching.

The gossip flowed in proportion to the amount of alcohol consumed. There was always drama to feast upon.

So long as none of it directly concerned me, my brain thrived on the experiences. I studied the minute details, paying close attention to how different people chose to make decisions that had lasting repercussions.

Some of my best characters were pulled straight from the elites of Chicago.

But tonight hadn’t been a case study. It was filled with my own experience.

I was glad to be back in the shelter of my room.

The books lining the walls seemed to call out in greeting, eager to help me with my own problems. I smiled at them, promising to have a good, long think about how to play my next moves.

My bare foot skidded on the hardwood.

I shot my arms out for balance. There was an envelope on the floor. The slippery bugger acted like a slider, nearly making me do the splits!

Picking it up, I trailed into my closet and sat at the vanity. Hanging from a chain that was turning green and made my skin break out when I wore it, was the huge diamond that made my finger feel like a body builder.

A sigh slipped from my lips.

I told David we would wait to announce our engagement.

It was wishful thinking to assume my plots would work so quickly that the news didn’t have to be shared.

That I could cut David loose before I told anyone about the man I met in Germany and had dated for the last few months.

Dated in the loosest sense of the word. When he was abroad for business, we had dinner.

We saw one play. He took me on a tour of a historic church.

That was it.

I flicked the ring with my finger. As it swayed, a pendulum in the background, I tore open the envelope.

There was no return address.

My breath hitched. There was no sender address either.

A sickening rush of cold spread over my limbs. The paper lip slid up, and a notecard fell out.

Welcome home, Pookie Bear.

I’ve missed you.

A slither of dread trickled down my spine. I thought this toxicity would have ended. It had been a half-dozen years or more since the last dose of this torment. I thought the situation would have resolved. That he wasn’t interested in me since I’d grown up.

The ring swayed back and forth—back and forth.

It wasn’t over.

I squeezed my eyes closed, shoved my hands into my hair. “You won’t win,” I snarled.

Anger was the only antidote to the shame.

That toxic feeling threatened to swallow me whole if I let it.

No one would believe my side of the story.

The man who’d hurt me, time and time again, carried a flawless public image.

People would call me a liar if I spoke up.

The feeling of powerlessness filled me with disgust, but what other option did I have!

But I realized that the letter he’d touched was now touching me.

Disgust roiled in my stomach. I shot from my chair, ran to the bathroom, and scrambled to find the lighter I used for candles.

I flicked the roller. The metal bit under my nail.

A flame sprang to life at my command, and I let it tongue across the edge of the paper.

It licked hungrily, consuming the contents with fervor!

They said the best fiction was based on reality.

Well…there was a reason my stuff topped the charts.