Cruel King, page 7
“There’s a lot of them. I don’t expect you to remember everyone.”
“I’m going to get it right,” she said determinedly.
“All right. Malcolm, Margaret, Trent, Nathaniel, Cora, and Lawrence. We call them Mal, Maggie, Trey, Nate, Cor, and Law.” Which I realized was probably even more confusing.
“Do they call you Gav?” she asked.
“Actually, yes.”
“And I’m Whit. I fit right in.”
I snagged a glance at her. She did fit right in.
We moved away deeper into the crowd, me pointing out each of my cousins again. When we reached Margaret, she grasped Whitley’s hand in hers and stared down at the diamond.
“I am so jealous. Who said you got to have this one?” Margaret said. She winked at Whitley.
“I am the oldest,” I reminded her. “Grandma wanted me to have it.”
Margaret still pouted. “You are one lucky girl.”
“You’re marrying a Locke tomorrow,” Malcolm said dryly.
He arched an eyebrow at me. There was a question in it. Malcolm and I were the closest in age, and he was the kind of person who could read someone with a glance. He’d always been an intuitive person, and under his scrutiny, it felt almost as if the whole house of cards was going to come tumbling down.
“I suppose I am.” Margaret made a face seemingly before she thought better of it. Then, a big fake smile came onto her lips, and she shoved her ring into Whitley’s face.
“Gorgeous,” Whitley confirmed.
“Say, what are your plans tonight?”
Whitley looked over at me in question, and when I shook my head, she shrugged. “No plans.”
“Well, we’re having a little girls’ night. I had a bachelorette party already, but this is for family and my bridesmaids. You’re going to be family soon. So, you should come.”
“I love girls’ nights,” Whitley said with a grin at me, which I knew all too well meant she was going to do something devious.
“Oh lord,” I groaned.
“What?” Margaret asked. “Are you worried we’re going to corrupt her?”
“No. I’m worried she’s going to corrupt you.”
Malcolm chuckled. “As if someone who intends to marry Gavin can’t already keep up with him.”
“Fair,” Margaret agreed.
“If only he could set a better example for Nate.”
“Hey,” Nate said, overhearing. He was chatting with a blonde who must have been his date. “I take offense to that.”
“No, you don’t,” Mal said.
“Good one,” Trent said, pointing at Malcolm as he leaned back lazily on a lounger.
Nate snorted. “Fine. Gavin is practically a role model.”
“Says the thirst trap,” Margaret said with a pointed eye roll.
“What can I say? TikTok loves me.”
Whitley glanced between the whole group of siblings. “If Gavin is your role model, I fear for the women who cross your path.”
Margaret burst into laughter. “Oh, I like her, cos.”
My eyes wandered to Whitley’s pleased face. I liked her too. I liked her a lot. Especially how she could hold her own with my enormous family. Maybe I shouldn’t have played this game. With her wide smile and easy demeanor, I found that I didn’t want this to be fake at all.
“So, yes on the party tonight?”
“Yes,” Whitley acquiesced. “As long as we’re not doing anything?”
“Nope.”
“We have the poker night tonight anyway,” Malcolm reminded me.
“Shit, right. Yeah, I already have plans. So, by all means, and lord help you ladies with Whitley in your midst. What exactly is the plan?”
“Karaoke,” Margaret said.
My grin went feral. “Oh, that’s good. Whitley can sing.”
Whitley smacked me on the arm. “I regret every day that I told you about my singing roots, King. Every day.”
“Oh yeah? I remember you serenading me on the beach all night with that voice, Bowen,” I crooned. “Can’t get out of it now.”
“That was a secret,” she teased. “No singing for me!”
“Oh my god, stop!” Margaret groaned. “Y’all are so cute that it’s almost disgusting.”
Whitley’s cheeks colored. “Thanks for the invite. I’ll be there so long as singing is optional.”
“Totally optional. We’ll have … other entertainment anyway.”
“Is tonight actually karaoke, Maggie?” Malcolm teased his younger sister. “Or are y’all just going to get strippers?”
“Big bro, you know that I am always truthful,” Margaret teased. “Us girls are going to have a great time.”
“Strippers?” Whitley asked with an expression I’d read on her before.
I placed my hand on the small of her back and brushed my lips against her ear. I didn’t miss the shiver that shot straight through her at my touch.
“I know what that look means,” I teased. “Maybe don’t hook up with any of the bridesmaids.”
Whitley leaned into my touch with a husky breath. “No promises, King.”
I circled my fingers against her back. “Can we at least share if you intend to bring them back with you?”
“In your dreams.”
I released her with another laugh. “Oh, you know me so well.”
She rolled her eyes at our usual banter and then moved toward Margaret to discuss the night out. I tracked her as she moved away. Because she was wrong. My dreams were nothing of the sort at present. They all revolved around this one little pixie.
Whitley switched out sundresses and disappeared with my cousin Margaret later that evening. They had been thick as thieves before the day even wore off. They were probably going to burn some buildings down by the end of the night. Whitley was the sort of person to do that with, and Margaret had her own rules about the world.
I’d have been shocked she was marrying at all if I hadn’t known the circumstances.
I frowned when I remembered it, but there was nothing to be done about it.
So, I snatched up my wallet and headed downstairs. Malcolm was hosting the poker night at his home on the outskirts of town. It was nearly the size of my aunt and uncle’s place with the same white roses that thrived for our family. Malcolm had risen in the ranks of Dorset & King spectacularly. He was what I could have been if I’d stayed. Not that I’d wanted to stay. Not even for a shot at running the whole damn company.
I parked alongside Malcolm’s lifted pickup and headed inside without knocking. I could already hear the raucous behavior within. I bypassed the living room and stepped into the game room. The space was already cloudy with cigar smoke. Whiskey sat in crystal glasses around a green felt poker table. A pool table was unused across the room.
“Hey, you made it,” Locke said, coming to his feet to shake my hand. He was the man of the hour and already intoxicated.
Blake stood up next, elbowing me in the side. “You sly motherfucker.”
I laughed. “So, you heard?”
“That you’re fucking marrying that girl?” Blake said with a hint of admiration in his voice. “How did that happen?”
Malcolm shuffled the card deck while my youngest cousin, Lawrence, looked on in awe. Malcolm was seated between his two other brothers, Nate and Trent. Both toasted me when I stepped into the room.
“Got lucky, I guess,” I finally said.
“No way. We saw that girl in New York,” Blake said. He punched Locke. “Back me up.”
“She’s hot,” Locke agreed. “But I feel ripped off that we weren’t introduced now that I know you’re getting married.”
“What’s all this about?” Malcolm asked.
I took a seat and crossed my foot over my knee at the ankle. “I was having lunch with Blake and Locke when Whitley came downstairs from Percy Tower. I hadn’t expected to see her. We flirted, and she left.”
“She was wearing a minidress and fur coat,” Blake said. “She acted like she was going to eat you alive.”
So, I hadn’t been the only one who thought that. Whitley had nearly given me a heart attack that day. Course, they didn’t have to know the real reason behind it.
“She does. Pretty regularly,” I joked.
Blake slapped my arm and guffawed. The rest of the guys chuckled too. It sounded sexual, but they didn’t know Whit. The phrase was literal.
“Were you already engaged then?” Locke asked.
“I don’t remember a ring,” Blake said.
Locke rolled his eyes. “As if you’ve ever looked for one.”
Malcolm snorted.
“Ouch,” Trey said.
Nate called out, “Shots fired.”
Blake didn’t even seem miffed. He shrugged good-naturedly.
“I proposed after that. Before we came here.”
Which was the truth.
Unlike Margaret and my mother, who had grilled us about the proposal and future wedding plans, the guys were content with bare-bones information. Soon, we got into the game.
The poker match I played in New York with Camden, Court, and Sam was regularly high stakes. More money was played at every match. Sam was ruthless and cleared the table more often than not, but I’d honed my skills off of his playing.
When I sat down for this match, everyone expected the old Gavin King, who relentlessly lost every penny he put down. They were in for a surprise as I slowly began to sweep the table.
“The fuck, Gav?” Nate asked when I took him for every chip in one spectacular hand. “When did you get good?”
“Me?” I asked with a gleam in my eye.
When Blake, Nate, and Law were out of money, they moved over to the pool table. Locke’s money was running low, too, and he looked at the pool game with regret.
I put my hand down. “Go on. Play with them. I need another drink anyway.”
Locke didn’t argue. He got up to play the game. At least he knew when to cut his losses. I headed to the wet bar, and Malcolm followed me with Trent on his heels. As it always was.
“The man of the hour,” Trey said, shaking my hand.
“That would be Locke.”
“He’s marrying our sister, but he’s not family yet. Your occasion feels more momentous.”
“Don’t let Margaret hear you say that,” Malcolm grumbled under his breath.
Trent shrugged. “I mean, we always knew Maggie was going to settle down. She dreamed of weddings. But Gavin?”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m just full of surprises.”
Malcolm quirked an eyebrow. “That’s putting it mildly.”
Trent grabbed a beer and tapped my glass with it. “Happy for you.”
Then, he headed over to the pool table, leaving me and Mal alone.
“He’s right, you know,” Malcolm finally said. He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We didn’t expect this with you and Whitley. That seemed to happen fast.”
I shrugged, lifting the glass to my lips. “When you know, you know, right?”
Malcolm pursed his lips, as if he’d never considered that before.
“What about you, Mal? I’m the infamous bachelor,” I said with an eye roll. “But you haven’t even been dating.”
This time, Malcolm smirked. “I’ve gotten better at keeping it hidden from our nosy family.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Yeah? You’re seeing someone?”
“You could say that,” he said with a shrug.
“Is she coming to the wedding?”
He shook his head. “I’m not ready for that. I don’t know how you are.”
“You don’t know Whit.”
Malcolm shot me a thoughtful look. Almost as if he was going to say something more. He was the intuitive one. The only one I hadn’t been sure would swallow the pill I was feeding them. But he finally smiled.
“I’m happy for you. Let’s hope it happens to me one day.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
We clinked glasses together to an unknown future. One where we both swore ourselves to another, like Locke was doing this weekend. In my fantasy, I imagined a girl who knew all of my tricks and wanted me for who I was anyway.
10
Whitley
Margaret was a riot, and she seemed to have no interest in getting married in a matter of days.
I’d met a lot of brides-to-be. I had sung at weddings in high school, had been a bridesmaid at any number of weddings for my sorority sisters and then as a guest for a lot of my LA clients. I knew a bride who was ready to tie her life to another. This girl seemed more like she was selling her soul to the devil for ten years of good fortune.
“Come on, Whit. One more dance,” Margaret said. She reached for my hand to try to steer me into the chair.
Margaret actually had hired strippers for the party. Or someone had. All the bridesmaids were laughing and dancing on the poles or getting lap dances. I’d been worried about karaoke for nothing. The machine had been discarded for shots and strippers within the hour.
“You take it.” I pushed Margaret into the chair, and a male stripper started gyrating on her.
I took a step back from the fun and gestured to the bartender for waters. Margaret’s younger sister, Cora, had been sitting by the bar with rolled eyes since about the time karaoke had ended.
“Are you trying to take care of my sister?” Cora asked. “It’s a waste of time.”
“Is this normal behavior?”
Cora shrugged. “It’s Margaret. She believes anything that can be done should be done over the top.”
“Well, I don’t disagree with that.”
“She probably shouldn’t be smacking that guy’s ass days before she marries someone else.”
I patted her shoulder. “Maybe. Maybe not. Probably depends on the boundaries already set in the relationship.”
“Would you be okay with Gavin going to a strip club?”
I laughed despite myself. I still wasn’t used to thinking of Gavin as mine, but this question was easy. “Honey, I’d go to the strip club with him and buy the lap dances.”
Cora laughed. “Oh. Well, never mind. Maybe it doesn’t matter about Margaret and Locke, and I’m the only one who is upset.”
“What do you mean?”
Cora came to her feet and waved her hand. “Nothing. I’m a downer. I’m going to head home. Make sure she drinks all of this water. She has the worst hangovers.”
I was too drunk for this conversation. So, I let her go, brought Margaret some much-needed water, and closed down the bar.
It was three in the morning when I finally stumbled back into the downtown hotel. I took the elevator up to our suite, fumbling with the key in my purse. I dropped it and nearly collapsed on the floor in a heap of laughter before getting the card to tap correctly against the door. It swung inward, and I tiptoed into the room with my heels dangling in one hand.
I made it halfway across the room before hitting something in the dark. “Oof!”
My body pitched forward. I tipped over and went sprawling, landing hard on my hands and knees. I laughed maniacally as I realized there wasn’t anything at all in the middle of the room.
I needed to stand up and figure out where the hell the bed was in all of this, but I was still too tipsy for that. I was reaching for my phone to try to figure out the flashlight when a light flicked on, silhouetting a figure in the doorway.
“Hi,” I said with a Harley Quinn–esque grin.
Gavin King stepped out of the bedroom in nothing but fitted boxer briefs. My mouth went dry. He was … a god. Literally. His physique was cut from stone with so many abs that I couldn’t even count them. Or maybe I was seeing double. But I could tell that his chest was broad, his waist was tapered, and he was as fit as I’d ever seen him.
“Hi,” I repeated, a little huskier.
He smirked. “Have a good time?”
“The best.”
“Do you need help?”
I held my arms out. “Please.”
Instead of taking my hands and helping me to my feet, he stooped down and lifted me into his arms in a bridal carry. Aptly named.
“What?” I gasped before he straightened and raised me clear into the air.
“You’re wasted.”
“I … am.”
“Were there actual strippers?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m surprised you came back at all,” he teased.
“Cora put me in charge of watching Margaret. I am shockingly soberer than I was.”
“Why do I doubt that?” he asked.
“Oh, I was. I almost considered singing.”
Gavin snorted. “I bet. Why would Cora leave?”
“Cora said something about being a downer because she was the only one who cared about Margaret and Locke.”
“Ah,” he said. “Cor has always been the most sensitive.”
He reached the bed and gently set me onto my feet. When he pulled the covers back, I was on the right side. He’d been lying on the left side even though we’d fought over the right earlier. Something contracted in my chest at the gesture. Something that I definitely did not want to look at.
“There,” he said.
“Thanks.” I flopped back on the bed even though I was still in the dress I’d worn to the party. The hem that had crept up nearly to my hips along the way.
Gavin’s eyes went to my legs. He stiffened slightly as his gaze ran over my body. I bent one knee and turned toward him invitingly. I was drunk, but I wasn’t stupid. Gavin King wanted me in that moment, and I wanted him. Maybe I was drunk enough for that.
Then, he cleared his throat and turned away. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”
I blinked at his back in surprise. Wow. I hadn’t thought it was possible for Gavin to walk away like that.
He came back a minute later with one of his T-shirts and a pair of shorts. “I couldn’t find anything in your stuff. Just wear this.”
I took it from him, starting to lift the hem of my dress. He coughed and hastily turned around. I smirked. Well, this was unexpected.
The dress came off in one swift movement. I threw it past Gavin and into my pile of clothes. I drew Gavin’s oversize shirt onto my figure. I was so short that it nearly hit my knees. The shorts were useless with a T-shirt this large.
