Page 70 of Vicious Kingdom

Driving into the den of thieves was the last thing I wanted to do. As the McLaren’s purr softened, I looked over the Hertz’s mansion. After striking the initial deal, I had several long, heated conversations with my brother. Sandro was of the opinion that we tell some strategic individuals about the situation. They would force Hertz into a precise defeat. Granted, the don had a point. It would be easier to pluck Hertz Media from the ashes and do what my acquisition company did best: chop it for parts and sell the company.

But if I took that option, if we destroyed the media mogul via any traditional course of action, I wouldn’t be able to capture Annaliese. And that part of the revenge was personal.

So here I was. Using blackmail to marry the object of my obsession. I couldn’t bring myself to hate the whole situation, and that made me even madder.

While I lingered in the sportscar, wishing I didn’t have to go inside and face the music, a ghostly vision whispered over the lawn.

It was her.

That beautiful woman who’d been a constant presence in my mind these last five years now manifested in front of me.

“She’s going to be mine.” The words were a breath, a prayer of disbelief.

Dammit, why didn’t I hate that idea?

Annaliese walked toward the front door, barefoot and looking a bit disheveled. Her shoes dangled by their straps from her fingers. She wasn’t smiling.

I launched from the car. My steps clipped across the pavement. She heard my approach, tensed, then looked.

I frowned.

But her smile of recognition nearly sent me to my knees. “You’re here!”

Heaven damn me, she was happy to see me.

“Where else would I be?” I snapped.

She winced slightly, and I mentally kicked myself.

“Oh, I don’t know, I figured you were trying to find a way out of this.” She waved her hand at the house.

She didn’t realize I was the force behind this? Odd. How had her parents broken the news to her? And another thing, why was she excited at the prospect?

I focused on the grass stains on her dress. “What have you been doing?”

Startled, she looked down. There was a flash of panic on her pretty face before she laughed it off.

“The game of tag with some of the kids was epic.”

There were children here tonight? “On your bad ankle?”

“It’s feeling much better,” she insisted, doing a little dance to show me.

I sensed a lie.

“Let me run upstairs and change, then we can meet everyone,” she offered, reaching for the door.

I followed.

“Wait here or go ahead if you want,” she said.

Not happening.I continued to dog her up the grand staircase and to her room. Shewasmoving better on that ankle. Maybe she had been playing outside.

Fuck. I wished I could believe her.

She paused, looking unsure. I pushed inside, invading her inner sanctum. I expected a grand suite, trimmed for a princess, especially after seeing the opulent guest room the night I brought her home.

This space was nothing like the rest of the mansion.