GAGE
“It’s not going to bite.”
Bea shot him a look over her shoulder. “I’m just…getting a feel for it.”
“You’ve been in it. Multiple times.”
“Yeah,” she acknowledged, stepping back and eyeing the glossy black finish like it had something to say about her character. “In the passenger seat. If I’m driving, I need to know its size.”
“You sure you’re ready for this?”
Bea’s chin lifted. “You keep asking me that like I don’t know how to drive.”
“I’m not questioning your skills, sweetheart.” He tossed her the keys, watching the neat catch she made without blinking. “I’m questioning your ability to behave with this much power at your fingertips.”
Bea twirled the keys once, a teasing glint in her eyes. “I don’t know. You seem to manage.”
“Touché.”
She slid into the driver’s seat like it was already hers. Adjusted the seat, the mirrors, checked the dash with quiet focus. No second-guessing.
He slid into the passenger seat and buckled up, leaning back like he had all the time in the world. “Alright then. Show me what you’ve got.”
Bea didn’t gun it off the line like he half expected her to. Instead, she rolled out of the lot smooth as silk. At ease.
“You’re not nearly as unsure as you pretend to be.”
She glanced at him sidelong. “About what?”
“Driving. You handle this car like it answers to you.”
A hint of a smile played on her lips. “I told you I can drive. The test just freaks me out. I hate being watched.”
He dragged his gaze over her profile. “You’re a female. In the UR.”
“Not everyone’s holding a clipboard and scoring me, though.”
“Want me to take care of the clipboard guy?”
She laughed, genuine and bright. “Absolutely not. I just want to pass the first time,” she admitted. “I’m not built to handle failure well.”
“Overachievers typically aren’t.”
They drove along the coastal road, the winter sun flashing off the water beside them, the wind cutting clean through the trees.
Once or twice, at his nod of encouragement, she leaned into the accelerator, the engine responding with a throaty growl.
The car shot forward, and for a moment, the whole world blurred—nothing but speed and control, her face exultant.
The longer he observed her, the more Gage felt something settle inside him. She could handle the car. Hell, she could probably handle anything.
“You know,” he said after a while, “I half expected you to scare the hell out of me.”
“Disappointed?”
“A little.”
They pulled into an overlook. The valley stretched below them, the sky bruised with winter light. For a moment, it felt like they had the world to themselves.
Bea shifted into park, then turned to him, eyes bright. “So?” she pressed. “Did I pass the Gage King test?” She looked so damn pleased with herself. Sweet. A little smug.
“You were fine,” he offered.
“Just fine?” she hissed, mock offended. “Don’t make me show you my parallel park again.”
“When do I have to drop you off for your spa trip?”
She checked the time on the dash. “We’ve got maybe an hour?”
“Perfect.”
Then, slow and deliberate, Gage reached over and unclicked her seat belt. The quiet snap echoed between them.
“What are you doing?”
His hand, curious, went exploring around her waist. “Lesson’s over. Now payment.”
He pulled her into his lap, her body warm and soft and melding to his, her arms looping easily around his neck.
“You’re already a billionaire,” Bea sighed. “You don’t need my money.”
Gage smiled, all wolf. “So give me your mouth.”
The private spa was carved into stone, a hidden retreat where the most powerful women in the UR came to relax, strategize, and whisper.
Jasmine, sandalwood, and salt hung in the air, carried by the steam curling from the heated pool.
Dim, golden lighting shimmered across the surface, casting liquid shadows on the arched walls.
Bea stepped down into the warmth, the heat curling around her bare legs as she waded in.
The others were already there—Georgina stretched like a cat against the stone edge, Isabel half submerged with her eyes closed, Naomi drifting lazily through the middle, and Lillian perched quietly near a corner, her braid trailing like a ribbon in the water.
Georgina cracked one eye open. “Well. Look who finally escaped.”
Naomi’s grin was wicked. “We were taking bets on whether Gage was going to let you leave.”
Bea’s skin betrayed her before her mouth could recover. Classic. “We agreed to meet at six. I’m literally on time.”
“Mm,” Isabel hummed, without opening her eyes. “And yet you sound defensive.”
“We were just talking about your little fairy tale,” Naomi added innocently.
“Fairy tale?”
“Bea.” Isabel finally opened her eyes, her tone tinged with dry amusement. “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed the way people look at you now.”
Naomi leaned back with a splash. “It’s like chess. And somehow, you became the queen.”
“That’s…a little dramatic.”
“Is it?” Naomi tested.
Well, she wasn’t an outsider anymore. She’d been marked gold by Gage. But being a queen wasn’t exactly comforting.
Queens were protected. And hunted.
“Speaking of…” Isabel’s gaze flicked toward her. “Someone’s not thrilled about this shift in the power dynamic.”
Bea sighed. “Catherine.”
“Obviously,” Naomi said, lazily vicious. “She’s still betting on becoming Mrs. King.”
“I wouldn’t take that bet,” Isabel drawled. “Gage has never once looked at her like she’s anything but background noise.”
“Has she said anything to you?” Georgina asked Bea.
Bea nodded. “She said the new always catches the eye, but eventually, people stop looking.”
For a moment after, no one spoke.
Naomi’s mouth curled. “There’s only one person who needs to keep looking. And he already is.”
“Whatever you’re doing,” Isabel remarked, rolling onto her side, “do less of it. Intermittent reward is far more addictive.”
Bea giggled. “That’s disturbingly scientific.”
“Animal studies,” Isabel followed up. “Scarcity keeps them hungry.”
Lillian stirred from her quiet place near the edge, voice soft but clear. “It also builds obsession.”
The steam seemed to hold its breath.
“Is that what we want?”
Georgina tapped her glass with one perfect nail. “In the UR? Love and obsession aren’t so different. You don’t just win the girl here; you have to keep her. And someone’s always willing to play the long game.”
That landed. It was the kind of truth no one rushed to object.
Lillian let the water lap gently at her collarbone. “So how did you three escape the trap?” she asked, sincere. “How are you still single?”
Naomi smirked. “By being clever. And temporarily unavailable.”
“This place is crawling with GQ cover models,” Bea chipped in. “You can’t dodge forever, surely.”
Naomi sighed, pushing her damp curls back from her face. “My weakness is Charles. Legacy pedigree, cheekbones carved for campaign posters, future senator.”
“Are you going to give in to your weakness?” Bea teased.
“I’m far too mischievous to be a trophy wife. One day I’ll crack and say something politically incorrect at a donor brunch and cost him millions in donations.”
“If it were accidental, he’d probably forgive you,” Georgina said. “But I’m guessing it wouldn’t be.”
Naomi’s grin sharpened. “It absolutely would not.” She tipped her head toward Isabel. “This one has a complication, too.”
“Mason,” Isabel supplied. “Wickedly sharp. Makes profit margins sound dirty.”
Lillian appeared puzzled. “How…”
“Use your imagination, Lils,” Naomi jibed.
Lillian’s brow furrowed, lips pressing together as she visibly tried to connect the dots.
Bea stayed quiet, fighting back a smile. She didn’t exactly know what Isabel meant, but if it was anything like the way she felt watching Gage work—how his hands moved over a keyboard or the way his voice sounded when he was negotiating—then yeah, she got it.
All eyes went to Georgina.
She didn’t pretend to demur. Just gave a lazy smile. “Hunter. Suits the name. Quiet, patient, smart enough to circle without spooking the prey. I think I’m about to let him catch me.”
Lillian groaned, dropping her face into her arms. Like she’d been disabused of the notion that these women were rocking the solo life.
“You’re not going to stay single. Not here,” Isabel told her.
“Thankfully,” Georgina added encouragingly, “there’s plenty to choose from.”
“Use your thrift-shop strategy,” Bea said with a smile. “Look deep and find the one that fits right.”
“Or take Bea’s strategy,” Naomi suggested, beaming. “Stumble in, blindfolded, and land the King.”
The pool echoed with laughter.
Bea shook her head, water glinting along her shoulders. “Now I just have to learn how to move like a queen.” She looked out across the steam, Catherine’s words still in her mind. “And how to protect my king.”