Page 6 of Vicious Kingdom (Dynasty of Queens #3)

S he was everywhere. Not just in the cafés or the obligatory events we attended. Annaliese was in my thoughts. She was in my fucking dreams . I woke up gasping for air.

We’d been running through the parks, but some danger beckoned her, and she took off. My feet hadn’t moved. I couldn’t reach her in time….

“Fucking hell,” I hissed, scrubbing my hands over my face. I swore my fingers had been grasping that silky, white-blonde hair right before we took off running. They itched with the visceral reminder.

They wouldn’t stop shaking.

The feeling of losing her was real enough that it made my body sweat bullets. The sheets were soaked from the nightmare.

This was unacceptable.

I needed to purge the poison from my grey matter. Short of having a lobotomy, the only path to ridding her from my life was to destroy her world here and send her packing.

Annaliese was nothing to me.

I just needed to make my body remember that.

The idea came to me last night as I watched the city drive by beneath my window.

I would force Annaliese from my city, make it so she never haunted my days again.

Simple. Elegant. Vicious. It was the perfect revenge to give the temptress.

She thought she could play with me once?

I would beat her at her own game. First, I needed to find out what she wanted most and take it from her. Make leaving the city the only option.

As I washed up, I formed a stronger, more detailed plan. To chase her from the city, I would have to be around her.

Can I do that?

The washcloth tore at my skin. I didn’t have a choice. The tangle of feelings was already fucking with my head. Better to take a bit more poison to accomplish the end goal of purging it completely.

It started today. Annaliese once wanted a boyfriend her parents wouldn’t approve of? Her words to explain her lies. Well, it was time to see how the little temptress liked a taste of her own medicine.

I slid the jeans over my hips, shifting under the stiff material that was foreign to my body. For the sake of my sanity, I would go to a charity event and begin to wreak damage.

“Watch out, little one, I’m coming for you,” I snarled, tucking the black tee into the jeans. The man who stood in front of the mirror was a far cry from the polished persona in designer suits that was my usual costume.

If the visage threw me off, it would do the same to her. A spritz of an old bottle of cologne that had been gathering dust in the back of the bathroom drawer, and I was out the door.

***

They said the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

That was exactly the disgusting mess spread before my eyes.

The group of society’s finest was gathered not to help build homes in poor neighborhoods.

No…they were talking to reporters. They were posing for tabloids.

Their phones were out, and selfies clicked for their social pages.

I shook my head.

The self-serving volunteers weren’t the only ones taking advantage of the situation.

There was another player making a profit while hiding under the name of altruism.

The Irish ran these streets. I saw Flannigan in the throng.

He had no idea my brother was his biggest rival in the underworld.

To the world, he was an affluent construction owner, one of the biggest in Chicago.

I knew better.

He was using this cleanup initiative to rebuild portions of his territory at the charity organization’s expense. Clever. He probably had financial ties to the organization. If the numbers were followed, what would they show?

Not that I would confront him.

No, my involvement was secret.

“Let’s get a group photo,” the event coordinator called.

I sidled to the middle, pressing close to the cute blonde with half her hair pulled off her face and wrapped in a bun on the top of her head.

That fucking hair that I couldn’t stop touching in my dreams.

“Smile,” I murmured while squeezing her hip.

Annaliese gasped just as the photographers began snapping pictures. “Baldwin! What are you doing?”

“Business,” I clipped out.

She shifted slightly, but my fingers gripped her hips tighter. She wasn’t escaping my presence. If the feel of her under my touch shot a bolt of excitement through me, I refused to notice.

After the group dispersed for individual photos and interviews, I kept my hold on the socialite. Annaliese turned into me, questions on her lips. But I wasn’t done. I caught the eye of a reporter, flagging him down. He spied me next to Annaliese and pulled a photographer over.

“Today marks a momentous occasion,” I said, shifting to stand possessively over Annaliese.

A picture was snapped.

“Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” Annaliese snorted.

She had no idea the lengths I would go to make her life here uncomfortable.

“Miss Hertz is here on behalf of her family’s company,” I intoned. “Hertz Media Group and Blitz News are collaborating on this story to gain the project maximum exposure.”

That was sure to raise her hackles. There was no way her family would let this collaboration slide without berating her. They hated me—the feeling was mutual.

And now, Annaliese was caught in the middle. A very awkward place.

“Mr. Baldwin has been very generous,” Annaliese told the reporter in her sweetest voice.

It was my turn to shift as discomfort attacked my resolve. Instead of fleeing, she was rising to the occasion.

It was true. My own media company had made a heavy donation, as had the other companies I owned but didn’t manage. Baldwin Acquisitions was listed as the second highest donor behind my media company. Blitz News was going to blast the shit out of this event—with our photo on the front page.

I wasn’t here for the damn charity. It was time to raise the stakes. As the photographer snapped pictures of us together, my arms wrapped around her, hands laying over her soft middle.

Her sharp inhale of surprise made the monster in me grin.

“This isn’t your usual scene,” she muttered.

“And how would you know?” I confronted her. “I thought you said you weren’t stalking me.”

“I’m not. Just making an observation.”

Her body was warm and supple. The curves beckoned me to explore. The white athletic material clung to them, showing off her body with a tantalizing view. I breathed through the torment, forcing myself to touch—to hold.

I bent low to whisper in her ear. “The whole world’s going to see us together.”

A delicious shiver shot through her frame. But then her tight little ass grazed against the front of my pants. My body was suddenly keenly aware of how good she felt.

Heat spread up my neck. I clenched my jaw in resistance. We were too close.

Just a minute longer.

“Such an odd thing for you to do,” she murmured, completely unfazed.

She didn’t pull away. Why didn’t this upset her?

“This charity needs good publicity,” she added, flashing another smile to the cameras.

Screw it. I pulled her closer, daring her to run from the intimate embrace.

Annaliese didn’t flinch. Not once.

With a nod to the camera, beckoning the photographer to continue, I turned into her, dropping my lips to her hair. Whatever scathing comment that was on the tip of my tongue died instantly. Her scent, bright and sweet, short-circuited my brain.

And so the camera snap-snapped.

Capturing me in what could be misconstrued as kissing her head.

Fucking hell. This was fire, and I was voluntarily playing with it—for all the world to see. I took a step back, dropping my touch. She hadn’t moved away from me.

Was she really that invested in this project? She didn’t seem to care that she was caught on camera with her family’s business rival plastered against her.

I took another step back, doing damage control as to how badly I’d just been burnt.

Maybe she thought those pictures wouldn’t be prominently displayed. I was about to tell her, to make her see the stunt would be her undoing, when another man strode over. Flannigan chose that moment to come and interrupt us. He stuck out his hand, reaching past Annaliese to clasp mine.

I shook his a bit too firmly. Annaliese’s behavior rattled me.

“Good to see you, sir,” Flannigan boomed. “And who’s your little friend?”

The temptress smiled radiantly and reached to shake hands. “Annaliese Hertz.”

My blood heated, and I had to clench my jaw hard to keep from saying something I would regret.

Annaliese was mine to destroy.

Which meant I was keeping her away from others.

“How about a picture together? It’s not every day two such prominent members grace our event,” the green fucker said, brogue thick.

Annaliese moved into his space, ready to let him put his arm around her.

Oh, hell no.

I tugged her around, putting myself in a bro-half-hug with my family’s sworn enemy. If Flannigan cared, he didn’t show it. No doubt, like any good mobster, he only saw the gold.

Wrapping my other arm around Annaliese, we posed as close friends for the cameras. It was a wonder my sinister smile didn’t break the lenses.

The coordinator boomed over the speakers, announcing that it was time to begin the work. The press would hang back, snapping photos for a while.

Annaliese tugged out of my grip and hurried to her assignment.

“Thank you for your donation,” Flannigan said, stopping me from following. “If you’re ever interested in more investments, this community is the one to beat.”

I pinned the mobster with a look. He was propositioning me. What would he say if he knew the truth about me?

But what if….

“I would love to talk more,” I insisted, shaking his hand heartily. The idea of the Italians owning Irish territory was too good to pass.

The don would be pleased. And the Irish wouldn’t be able to figure out how Alessandro did it.

“Say, what’s the story there?” Flannigan jerked his chin to the side.

It was hard not to stare. Annaliese was reaching up to take down a hard hat from a temporary wall that held toolboxes, clothing, and equipment.

While everyone else had on proper working attire, she was in a white skirt and athletic tank top that formed to her body.

Stretching up like that to reach the hard hat—

It was sexy.

My dick twitched.

“She’s off the market,” I snapped.

The Irishman chuckled. “Of course she is. A man would be a fool not to snap that one up.”

I grunted and hurried to her.

“Mr. Baldwin, you’re with the sheetrock crew.” An organizer handed me a set of equipment.

“I’m with Miss Hertz.”

“Sorry, no more painting positions are available. It’s sheetrock or plumbing—” the worker squeaked.

“I said painting.”

“Oh, Leonard, leave the poor man alone,” Annaliese laughed. “You’re here to work, right?”

Did she want me to admit that I was here only because she was? Well, I wouldn’t.

“Sheetrock it is.” I took the equipment and began to work.

If it was torture watching Annaliese plastering the nail holes after I was done, if it was hard to see her bend and reach, I ignored the temptation, retreating into myself, waiting for another opportunity to pounce.

I was here to ruin her life. Not watch her work.

No matter how tantalizing a sight she was.

I was here to destroy her life and reclaim my city—and my sanity.