Savage (The Kingwood Duet #1)

I do not like that man. I used to defend him because he was Alexander’s family, but like his son, I now despise him.

With a kiss to my cheek in greeting, his hand slides onto my lower back. “It’s good to see you, Ms. Grayson. I’m glad you could make it.”

Moving out of his hold, I look down, wishing Alexander were here. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming. You look very beautiful this evening.”

“Thank you,” I reply, daring a glance his way. “Have you seen Alexander?”

“I have. He said something about fresh air, and then I saw he was with a young woman on the terrace. Not sure if they’re still there. Maybe they retired to his quarters. You know how restless young men can be.”

“How can you say that to me as if that won’t hurt? Is that what you’re trying to do? Are you trying to hurt me, Mr. Kingwood?”

“I don’t want you hurt, Ms. Grayson. I want you well aware of what it’s like to be with a Kingwood. There will be times when Alex will be needed to help ease transitions or seal deals. Taking advantage of all of his talents is necessary and wise in business. My apple didn’t fall far from the tree. We’re more similar than you think.”

If it weren’t for the classical music piped into the room and the chatter of guests around us, he would hear the shatter of my heart. “The only similarity between you and my Alexander is your gene pool. Nothing more.”

His smile is wide, victorious in its expression. “You speak as though I’m heartless. I’m not. I just don’t bother with games of the heart. It’s a fault my son struggles with.”

“It’s that trait that makes him human. It’s that trait that makes me love him.”

“Love is for the weak. As for tonight, I have a house full of investors. Let’s hope at least one makes an offer. I want you to fall in line. Kingwood Enterprises comes before family. You want a good life with my son, then help us close some deals.” With a smile I know holds no kindness on his face, he says, “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

I am not equipped to deal with a man of his stature, of his mind games, but I must hold my chin up and face him. “Yes, please tend to your guests.” We walk away at the same time. I move forward, trying to keep from running. I catch my breath after being under the intensity of his gaze, not realizing how stifling it was back there. I turn my attention to the doors that lead to the large granite terrace overlooking the gardens.

As I approach the picturesque windows that give a full view of the grounds during the day, I can see just enough in the dark to make out Alexander and a woman by his side. A sickness fills my stomach while I maneuver around a few guests and set my glass down on a table before opening one of the doors and walking out.

“I’m not fucking anyone else if that’s what you’re worried about. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Wouldn’t do that to you.

But if I left him . . .

His words come rushing back. He told me he would never hurt me but seeing him with this other woman is feeding doubts to my developing insecurity.

It’s much quieter out here, only the sound of the music and a private conversation heard. Any other time, I’d love it, but my nightmare has come to life and I stand there, my mind fumbling for reasons to justify what I’m seeing, playing right into the fears his father planted. When I come up empty-handed, I turn to leave, to run, to escape back to the shelter of my apartment, where I should have stayed in the first place.

What was I thinking?

What am I trying to prove?

That I can be strong? That I can handle his secrets? That I can pretend he’ll change? That perhaps what I’ve always felt so sure about—that he couldn’t live without me—was just wishful thinking. Foolishness.

What am I doing?

What have I become?

“Sara Jane.”

With my back to him, I focus on breathing. Steady. Inhale. One. Two. Three. Exhale.

His voice is much closer when he asks, “What are you doing here?”

I am strong. I am strong. I am strong. I turn around and see pain written in his brow, the same pain I saw when he was talking about his mother’s death. His expression confuses me, and I falter. “I, uh, I . . .” My gaze shifts to his right and I see the tall, beautiful woman looking at me—head to toe and back up again.

She walks past us, and says, “We’ll talk soon, Alex.”

He nods, but his eyes never leave mine. “Yes. Have a good evening.” Stepping closer, he asks me, “Why are you here?”

“I was personally invited.”

“No, Sara Jane, why are you here?” he grits through his teeth.

“For you. To apologize for walking away the other day.”

He raises his hand as if to touch my arm, but restrains himself and lowers it. “You don’t owe me an apology. You don’t owe me anything. Don’t you understand? You’re not supposed to be here.”

Stupid tears. Stupid damn tears. “I can see I’ve interrupted. I thought—”

“You didn’t think. You felt. What did I tell you about emotions? What have you done, Firefly?”

“What do you mean, Alexander? I’ve cried for days. I thought you’d be happy to see me. Don’t you love me anymore? Did you ever love me? I came here for you.”

“I love you more than you’ll ever know. That’s why it kills me that you’re here.” I can’t keep the distance between us. I need his arms to hold me, to tell me we’ll be okay, to keep me safe, and to warm me from the chill his father left coursing through my bones. As soon as my body touches his, he does just that. Strong arms wrap around my body and his head leans on top of mine. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?” A cry fills the question. “Why are you being so cryptic?”

“I’m sorry. But you fell into a trap. His trap. He wanted you here and you came. Just like he knew you would. Just like I hoped you wouldn’t.”

Angling my neck, I look up into his eyes that carry the burden of his grief so prevalently. “Your father?”

“He doesn’t spend his time on someone unless he wants something from them.”

My cloudy thoughts clear, and I step back. “You pushed me away on purpose, didn’t you? What does he want from me?”

“Why are you so stubborn?” The pain on his face morphs into something else, something I’m not familiar with seeing on him. “If I hadn’t, you would have come tonight. I didn’t want that.”

“You didn’t want me,” I reply, my arm rising to the side, “so you could have her?”

“I’ve tried my best to shield you from this life, but you’re not a little girl anymore, so stop acting like it.”

“I haven’t been a little girl in years, Alexander. You made sure of that.”

“You’re better off because of it. You’re not na?ve like you were. I was helping you. The world is dangerous—”

I take another step back. “I’m starting to think the danger lives here in Kingwood Manor.”

“Good. Keep thinking that and leave before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?”

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