Page 8 of Vicious Kingdom (Dynasty of Queens #3)

T he interior of the house was finished just after four in the afternoon. The volunteers cheered. Hugs spread across the group, and more photos were snapped. After the delirious display of congratulations was finished, they began to disperse.

“Want to go out for pizza?” a redheaded man asked a group of pretty, preppy girls of which Annaliese was one.

Most of the girls declined. Red’s friend, another scraggly man, assented.

“I suppose I could break my diet,” a brunette sighed.

“Oh, they have salads, Kristy.” Annaliese gave her a side squeeze. “But I’ll have pizza, Kevin!”

The redhead, Kevin, beamed.

“I’ll buy,” I offered, inserting myself into the group.

Silence fell over the lot.

I realized my misstep. These were all wealthy kids with family credit cards. Money wasn’t an issue.

“Drinks are on me,” I added.

That piqued their interest.

“Sure man, but, uh, who are you?” Kevin’s friend asked.

I looked at the scraggly man. “Leonard.”

“Cool, thanks, Leonard,” he quipped.

Shaking my head at the idiocy, I filed behind the group of four as they wandered to their vehicles. I grabbed the helmet off my bike, pulled it over my head, and straddled the sleek black motorcycle. The Italian engine purred to life.

“Hey, Leonard.” Kristy appeared before me. “Can I hitch a ride with you?”

I shot a glance past her to see Annaliese watching the exchange. I didn’t need another woman to cause drama and mess with my temptress.

“I’ve never ridden a bike before,” the socialite cajoled.

“Sorry, only brought one helmet.” With that, I dropped the visor.

Pouting, Kristy trudged back to Kevin, who held open the door of his Maserati.

After a minute, the Maserati pulled away from the curb, Kevin revving the engine more than necessary to prove a point.

I smirked behind my visor. Amateurs with Daddy’s money.

I revved my Ducati in response, letting the Italian beast between my legs growl with authentic power before peeling out behind them.

Traffic crawled through the downtown streets, red lights stretching our caravan into a disjointed procession.

I weaved between lanes, keeping Annaliese’s blonde head visible through Kevin’s rear window.

Her laugh carried even through the glass when I pulled alongside them at a stoplight.

Our eyes met briefly before the light changed.

The pizza place was in the warehouse district, where old industrial buildings had been converted to trendy restaurants and nightclubs. Brick facades and exposed steel beams trying desperately to be hip. I followed Kevin’s unnecessarily complicated route, watching him take wrong turns twice.

What a fucking idiot.

This was why I never hung out with people.

Once inside, my stomach growled. Ignoring it, I went straight to the bar for a much-needed scotch.

“Neat,” I instructed the bartender.

My hand throbbed like a bitch. It would take too many of these to take the edge off, and I needed to drive. But I nursed the drink back at the table where the group animatedly argued over which pie to order.

Kristy wasn’t deterred. She changed seats after going to the bathroom to freshen up. Leaning over, tee pulled lower, her generous cleavage flashed.

The scraggly man—Dominic, I overheard—was salivating.

I kept my gaze pinned on the menu.

“Is pepperoni okay with everyone?” Annaliese asked, her voice cutting through the cacophony of indecision.

I glanced up from the menu to find her blue eyes already fixed on me. Not on Kevin. Not on Dominic. On me.

This game was only getting started.

Time to raise the stakes.

“I don’t care,” I replied, taking another sip of scotch. “As long as it's not pineapple.”

To my people, that was a sin.

Her lips quirked up. “Anti-pineapple, huh? That’s a strong stance for someone who doesn’t care.”

“I have standards,” I countered, letting my gaze drift deliberately down her body before returning to her face. “About certain things.”

A flush crept across her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she leaned forward, elbows on the table. “What are you drinking?”

I lifted my glass slightly. “Scotch.”

“Some things never change,” she mused. Her blue eyes locked on mine, a playful smile dancing on her lips. “And tell me, is it to your…standard?”

“Better than whatever fruity concoction they’ll try to sell you.”

She laughed, the sound like silk against my skin. “You don’t think I can handle the hard stuff?”

Mio dio.

I willed my stiffening dick back under control. To distract myself, I pushed my wounded hand against the underside of the table. The spike of pain grounded me.

Before I could take another sip, Annaliese’s hand shot across the table. She took the glass and in one smooth gulp drained it.

I groaned.

When I formulated my plan to ruin her life and send her running from the city, I failed to take into account how sexy she was. How her every move, even the smallest, was something my focus lasered in on.

“So…how do you two know each other?” Kristy asked, clearly sensing that there was something else fascinating at the table beside her tits.

“Long story,” I bit out and snapped for the bartender. He nodded.

“Tell, tell!” Kevin chirped.

Setting the glass in front of me, the bartender asked for the others’ drink orders. They all chose something fruity—

Except Annaliese.

“I’ll have what he’s having.” She graced the bartender with a glittering smile.

The urge to slice his throat was strong. I took a sip, letting the amber liquid burn down my throat.

“The story?” Dominic pressed. “We’ve been working the Homes for Hope scene for years, and today you show up for the first time.”

“Taking pictures with the media princess,” Kevin added.

Kristy pressed her lips in a tight line. Tonight, she was losing whatever edge she probably always held over this small court.

“Princess?” Annaliese laughed, accidentally leaning closer. The scent of her perfume—something citrus and rich—invaded my senses. “You guys really call me that?”

“Sure, they do,” Kristy purred. “It fits.”

She reached out and flipped Annaliese’s hair.

I resisted the urge to break Kristy’s wrist. But when she continued to pet, the urge was too much. I intercepted Kristy’s hand.

“Careful,” I warned, releasing her wrist. “Some princesses bite.”

Annaliese’s eyes widened slightly, but her lips curved into a slow smile. “It’s true.”

It was. I still had the scars.

I leaned back in my seat, creating space between me and the table while keeping my eyes locked on Annaliese.

“Princess doesn’t quite capture it,” I said, my voice low. “More like a queen who has no kingdom.”

The flash of hurt in those blue eyes should have been a victory.

Instead, my gut twisted.

The bartender returned with their drinks. Annaliese took hers, swirling the amber liquid before taking a sip. She didn’t wince. Queens never did.

“And what does that make you?” Annaliese’s eyes gleamed, her tongue darting out as she captured a rebellious drop on her lower lip. Teasing and tempting, she set the trap just as neatly as she always did. “The court jester?”

The quickness of her comment made the table erupt in laughter. Kevin slapped Dominic on the back. Even Kristy, ever-wary of losing her grip on the spotlight, smirked. But I merely smiled, slow and deliberate, letting the words settle in the air like smoke from a freshly lit cigarette.

“I’ve been called many things, but never that.

” I locked eyes with Annaliese, daring her to take another shot, to push the boundaries we both knew far too well.

The tension between us was electric, a live current that could shock or ignite with the smallest provocation.

I didn’t care which. But before she could respond, the shrill sound of her phone shattered the moment.

“Ooh, who’s David with a heart emoji?” Dominic purred, displaying the name for the entire table to see, like a cat with a fresh kill.

I stiffened, every muscle in my body coiling tight and hard.

Annaliese rolled her eyes and snatched the phone back, nonchalance in every gesture.

“None of your business,” she shot over her shoulder. But I caught the lilt in her voice. The soft inflection that said this was, most definitely, my business. This David. This interruption. This complication.

The bastard.

Annaliese excused herself, threading her way through the crowded restaurant and tripping lightly to the front door where she could take the call outside without the noise.

Once she left the table, my vision tunneled, and the others faded to white noise. I couldn’t let this go. Not this time. Maybe she had changed.

But I fucking doubted it.

It was probably just another arrow in her quiver. Playing with hearts, exactly like the spider she was. I had to believe that was the case.

Because the alternative, that she’d been gone for five years, only to have moved on….

Fuck, I shouldn’t care!

The smart thing was to walk away. To acknowledge that Annaliese had her victory and let her live her life.

But my determination steeled. David was just another way to exact my revenge. In the end, I would drive Annaliese from my life once and for all.

“We’re going to the Basin tonight,” Kristy interrupted, snapping me out of the turbulent thoughts running through my mind.

Annaliese had a David.

Who the fuck was he, and how did I hurt him?

Turning to the bitchy little woman, I leaned on my elbow. “What time?”