High Stakes (Kings and Rivals #2)

Chapter 1 – Morgan

Chapter One

Butterflies, Boyrfriends, and Bad Decision

Morgan

How did that song go?

Hair, nails, ass, and titties on display. Alright, maybe that's not exactly how the song went, but that's what I was aiming for. I was going for shock and awe tonight.

After a month of hiding out at Micah's—I needed to bring my A-game.

Tonight would be the first time I’d have to be in a room with Lance since I’d walked away from him—from us —a month ago. It was damn important that when he saw me, I looked like a radiant butterfly, poised, luminous, not a moth curled in on itself from heartbreak.

I inhaled deeply, steadying my nerves. You did what you needed to do.

I knew I had, but just the thought of him sent my belly into freefall.

Breaking up with him was the only choice I’d had once I’d found out what he’d done to my father.

What if Lance had told everyone his version of events? What if everyone thought I was being dramatic? I knew I could be impetuous, but I was right to leave him.

My palms grew clammy at the thought. Lance had a way of making everything sound reasonable, even when it wasn't.

Stop it. Focus.

Gwen and Atticus returned home three days ago. My sister was heavily pregnant and adorable and waddling. Apparently, she was unable to see her shoes. Atticus told a story of how she'd gone out wearing two different colors of the same pair of shoes.

The joy I felt at seeing them was unmatched. God, I’d missed my sister. Atticus too. So much had happened in the last several months, so much I’d wished I could talk to her about.

I’d needed my sister.

Not to fix the shit show that was my life, but to talk to. To run things by. To laugh with.

I’d been so focused on being independent, on standing on my own two feet that I hadn’t thought of the other support Gwen provided. I’d been missing my best friend.

I could have used her shoulder a month ago when I’d broken up with the only man I’d ever loved, over one that I hated. I’d been so confused and hurt and broken.

But she was back now.

My life was in a much better place than it had been months ago, but I still needed my sister and couldn’t wait to spend some time with her.

For starters, the Adele Beekman fashion showcase had gone beautifully. I had her mentorship and an opportunity to show pieces in her upcoming runway show. It required more work, but I was still keeping hours at Pendragon because savings were important.

I'd be moving back in with Gwen and Atticus for now. With Atticus's lawyers working on my father and the trust fund situation, at least that part of my life was looking up. The one problem? Having them back meant I'd see more of Lance.

And you want to be near him.

No, I did not.

My subconscious was relentless, picking at the scab of my feelings for Lance as if it were its job.

I stepped back to admire myself in the mirror.

I looked amazing in my green berry slinky cocktail dress, the beading I'd added to the asymmetrical trim cinching my waist perfectly.

My makeup was flawless, with braids styled half up, half down and the updo coiled into a jeweled bun.

None of that no-makeup makeup look tonight—this was war paint.

I'd used enough Fenty body oil to be seen from space, the glittering sheen making my honey-brown skin glow like gold.

I looked good enough to eat. When facing heartbreak, I needed a shield.

Still, tonight wasn't about how much I still hurt.

It was about showing Lance exactly what he'd lost when he decided to lie to me.

I would be stunning, untouchable, and completely over him.

Two of those things I could fake.

Maybe if you admitted you were hurt, you could start getting over him. My subconscious was having a field day—had been all week.

I swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in my throat.

Hurt? That was putting it mildly. Lance had reached inside my chest and crushed something vital, something I'd never planned on giving him in the first place.

He'd taken it and then rejected it in the same breath.

And the worst part? A traitorous, pathetic part of me still wanted him to look at me the way he used to, with want, hunger, and protectiveness.

I whirled away from the mirror, snatched up my purse, and braced myself for the night ahead.

A few minutes later, when I arrived, their welcome home party was in full swing—champagne flowing, catering staff weaving through clusters of glitterati, soft jazz floating above the din of conversation.

I’d worked with the decorator to have the apartment decked out with fresh flowers and tasteful decorations that screamed "new parents with an adorable baby on the way," but still effortlessly cool.

The guys I lovingly called the Knights were all there—Pierce assessing the room with his ever-vigilant eyes, Gavin lounging with his typical charm, Rowan quietly observing from his corner.

After all, they all worked at Pendragon, and Atticus was their fearless leader.

What else could I call them but knights?

The soaring floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the glittering Manhattan skyline, city lights reflecting off the polished marble floors. My heart tripped when I spotted my haunting mistake in the corner.

Lance .

Heat bloomed between my thighs at the sight of him—those dark eyes, that dangerous mouth that knew exactly how to make me come undone.

Even from across the room, I could feel his gaze like fingers trailing over my body.

A jolt of unwanted electricity coursed through my veins.

His gaze dragged over me like a physical touch, lingering on the way the dress dipped between my breasts, the bare skin of my arms that he'd kissed and bitten and claimed.

He was sitting there all casual, one leg crossed over the other, drink in hand like he owned the place.

Like he hadn't upended my life by pretending to love me.

Like he hadn't lied to my face for months.

My heart thudded against my ribs as adrenaline flooded my veins, and I hated myself for it.

I pretended to ignore him and kept moving to deposit my suitcase and shawl in the guest room.

There was no relief being out of his sight. I could practically feel his hands on me again, rough and demanding, the way he'd whisper filthy promises in my ear while he?—

I shoved those thoughts down.

I took a moment in the guest room, pressing a hand against my sternum, willing my pulse to slow. Why did he still have this effect on me? My skin felt too tight, flushed and warm from just being in his proximity. This was ridiculous. I was supposed to be over him.

It's been a month. Get a grip.

When I returned to the living room, my entrance had had the desired effect. All the guys gave me furtive glances. Micah was the only one who stood up with a wide grin and called out, "Wow! If your sister wouldn't take off my balls, I'd chat to you."

I rolled my eyes. "Micah, you chat to me all the time anyway."

"That's because I'm trying out book boyfriend lines. I have to know which ones actually work."

Micah was my book club buddy, and he absolutely loved romance. His current kick was alien romance, so half of his book boyfriend chat lines didn't quite land.

"I do appreciate it." I twirled to show off the dress, feeling Lance's eyes on me like a caress. I refused to look his way, but my body knew exactly where he was in the room, as if pulled by some invisible, infuriating magnet.

Micah smirked. "I feel like this is a Morgan Crispin Becker original?"

I shook my head with a smile. "It's not. I bought it vintage. Label unknown, but I added some zhuzh to it."

"It's gorgeous. And it makes your skin glow."

"I know, right?" I'd used enough Fenty body oil to be seen from space. The glittering sheen made my honey brown skin glow like gold. That's right, asshole. Eat your heart out.

I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. But before I could take a sip, it was replaced with sparkling cider from someone behind me. "Oh, come on!"

Atticus laughed when I stuck my tongue out at him. "One, you're not twenty-one yet, Morgan. Two, if Gwen's not drinking, she deserves a companion."

"Why can't that be you?" I grumbled.

"Because I'm about to be a new father any day now, and I need this for my nerves." He swirled his scotch, though I knew he barely drank.

My skin prickled with sudden awareness, and I lifted my gaze to the source of the intense heat signature.

Lance .

I could see him from my periphery. His gaze trained on me as if the intensity alone could burn me alive where I stood.

It took everything I had not to fully turn in his direction.

The last time we were in the same room, I told him I never wanted to see him again and broke both of our hearts.

Now, he was sitting ten feet away, and my body was reacting like it hadn't gotten the memo about being done with him.

Someone moved along my side, blocking my view of him and I surreptitiously tried to peer around my blockade.

“Hey, Morgan. Been a long time.”

I shifted my gaze up to meet the eyes of a tall, good-looking guy with sandy-brown hair and blue eyes. Who was he?

Shit. He was looking at me expectantly.

"Hi," I said, uncertain.

His eyes gleamed and a corner of his mouth hitched in a small smile. "I'm Sam. I don't think you remember me. I worked with your sister at Bex as an intern a while ago while I was getting my masters in green tech."

I did not, in fact, remember, Sam. But he was cute and served as a great distraction. "Oh, right! Nice to see you again...did you move over to Pendragon too? I don’t think I’ve seen you there.” It was difficult keeping the conversation while trying to keep an eye on Lance.

Why does it matter if he’s looking at you?

"You look great by the way. Maybe we could…"