Page 30 of Vicious Kingdom

I shook my head. There was no talking to her.

Shooting from the driver’s side, I went around and carefully opened her door. She slumped out, forcing me to catch her.

“Leo,” she purred. “King of the concrete jungle. A lion in a suit—a designer suit. But still a beast of prey.”

And then her fingers caught my bummed hand.

“Poor lion.” She pressed a kiss on the stained bandage. “There. All better.”

My heart did not skip at her attention. She was drunk. This wasn’t real.

“Let’s get you inside,” I growled.

Helping Annaliese to the door was hard enough. Watching her try to push the buttons on the keypad to unlock the door was painful. The door swung open into a yawning cavern of darkness.

Where were her parents? I would have liked to be the one to deliver her to them. See the hatred in her father’s teeny, tweeny eyes. Her mother’s sneer of disgust. I was the enemy, bringinghome the precious daughter. And there was no one to be upset by the action.

“Where’s your room?” I huffed.

Annaliese was falling asleep. Since I was already holding her up, I lifted her into my arms. Her slim finger lifted toward the stairs.

She weighed nothing as I moved.

No, not nothing. There was a delicate weight to her. A weight that settled deep in my chest where I refused to acknowledge it. Her body curled against mine, head nestled in the crook of my neck, her warm breath fanning across my skin with each exhale. It was torture, pure and simple.

“Second door,” she mumbled against my throat, breath brushing my pulse point.

I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth might crack. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was a Hertz. She represented everything I was supposed to despise.

So why did carrying her feel natural?

I pushed the thought away violently. It was just biology—a man holding a beautiful woman. Nothing more. The tightness in my chest was probably indigestion from that shitty booze I drank hours ago.

I stepped into the room. It was stale and perfect, like no one lived here. Fitting for a socialite with nothing to aspire toward. I aspired to greatness. Years spent clawing my way from the back streets, while this woman had everything handed to her from birth. She thought she could play with men’s hearts? Not mine. I was a fighter, who’d carved a kingdom from the ashes of battles hard fought and won.

Annaliese and I were not cut from the same cloth.

I carried Annaliese to the bathroom and laid her on her side. But I couldn’t just leave her like that. I found a towel and draped it over her shoulders.

There. I’d been a gentleman. It was enough, and high time I left.

But I lingered.

Her face softened in sleep, the sharp edges of her personality blunted by unconsciousness. Moonlight slipped through the bathroom window, casting her in an ethereal glow. The sight of her punched something loose inside me.

She jerked suddenly. “Leonard! Wait.”

“Yes?” I ground out.

“You have to listen,” she slurred. “I came back for you.”

The lie gutted me.

I stood there, fuming, and with a shudder, she fell back asleep.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away. This woman—this beautiful, dangerous creature—had nearly cost me everything once before. The memory of it burned like acid in my veins. She wormed her way into my life with pretty lies on her lips. Her presence threatened to expose the operation I’d spent years building. If I’d spent any more time with her, she would have sold my story to her father and smiled while doing it!

Even now, as I watched her, I could picture the way those perfect lips would’ve curved in cruel amusement as she dangled my destruction before me like a toy.