Chapter Three
Kingston
S adie kisses like a challenge. Like shock. Like an electric blast of erotic power that heads straight to my cock.
The kiss is unexpected and so fucking good I kiss her back because why the fuck not? I don’t have to like the person I’m kissing. Just want to nail them and oh yeah, do I want that.
I drop my hand that still is light against her throat, the thrum of her pulse is out of control and beating hard on my fingertips like its own kind of dare or come on, and I rake those fingers down her side, under her coat to pull her even harder against me as I take control of this kiss.
She’s hot and wet and soft. Her tongue knows how to dance. And she growls low, a sound that slides through me and makes me want to take her right here and now and fuck whoever sees.
I kiss her hard, an erotic exploration and then I change it to something softer and more devastating, even as she tries to up the ante of where we are.
It’s cat and mouse. A game. And I’m not a fan of those…at least not normally. But this one. I can indulge.
I move from her waist, over the dip of her narrow lower back to her ass in the tight leather. Cupping her, I pull her hard against my erection even as I kiss her so slowly and light I’m driving myself crazy.
But I’m pushing her more. Right to an edge. And she grinds against me, her leather covered pussy against my denim covered cock.
There’s something about that low rated simulation of sex that’s so dirty it climbs down into my marrow.
And the kiss spins out into dark heat and the right kind of wetness, of tongues mating slowly, wanting more.
I let go of her and bring my hands up, deliberately brushing her nipples, making her hiss, driving myself a little madder, and then I take hold of her face, angling it so I can plunder.
It’s opened mouthed, carnal, and so fucking hot I could burn into nothing. And her hands come up along my arms to my wrists, and then I break it. Finally.
Resting my forehead against hers, listening to the mingled music of our harsh and uneven breathing, I finally say, “That’s not going to get you a discount.”
“Asshole.”
“You kissed me.”
“Let’s call it an experiment,” she says, shaking me off and I take a step back, knowing I need to get things inside under control.
I nod, sweeping over her body, and her nipples show like hard little points against the tight black of her top.
We’re standing in the shadows and if I hadn’t somehow sensed her, that same awareness that spread through me when she stepped into the bar, I’d never have seen her. Would have walked right on by.
Her mouth is reddened from me and not lipstick as she lifts her chin, jamming her hands in the pockets of her duster. “You were quick.”
“In realizing you took my wallet?” Somehow, I control the smile that wants freedom. I get the feeling giving her anything is a mistake. And I don’t make mistakes with people.
Not anymore.
If there are mistakes and missteps to be made, they’re to do with money, but those wild days are behind me, too. I use money to make money. Pure and simple. And if this doesn’t pan out, paying her to find what’s mine, that’s one risk I’m willing to take.
“Because,” I say, “if you’re talking about anything else more…intimate, I assure you only when it’s called for.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t have to. Just like I’m not asking what that was about. Nothing more than a power play or a game. I don’t like either, just so you know.”
She raises one cool brow as those dark, fathomless eyes slide over me. “Call it curiosity. It won’t be happening again.”
We both know she’s lying. But strangely, I don’t want to kiss her again, as much as my body wants it. Those kisses riled and disturbed in ways I can’t put into words. “We have a deal?”
“This is an interesting job. I’ll let you know.”
And she slips out from in front of me and walks away.
It’s not until I’m in my car home that I check my watch.
It’s gone.
I start laughing. For a yes she’ll work with me, stealing my Breguet is up there in the fuck you department.
Closing my eyes, I settle back and wait for the car to take me home to Park Avenue.
I’m looking forward to round two.
“How’s your new mansion in the sky, Kingston?”
Jenson’s question is polite and not a hint of snark, but I give him the once over as I sit in his understated office.
“I live on the fifteenth floor of my newest acquisition. And it’s beautiful. I’m almost positive you didn’t summon me here to troll or to talk real estate.”
I do dabble in different arenas; my company is powerful enough to fund projects, raze buildings, and do what I see fit to build money and power. But one of my sweet spots is old Manhattan buildings that I return to former glory with modern touches. Some I keep for high end, furnished rentals as there are a lot of people who want the ease of that as they flit coasts and continents; others I sell the apartments.
This building is beautiful and I got this, through some perhaps underhanded deals here and there, primarily for my use with the top floor and its roof garden. The irony of me living in what would have been servant quarters and now prime real estate is not lost on me. It’s all leased out on the floors below, because money is money and I don’t need an actual mansion of floors upon floors—mine takes up the whole of the building which spans half the block.
But as I said, I’m not here to discuss that.
I know why I’m here.
Jenson clears his throat and goes a little red, but before he can speak there’s a knock on his office door and my mother comes in, somehow bringing freshness to the dark day outside with its cold and biting wind.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, blowing an air kiss my way.
I narrow my eyes.
“Time is money. Specifically my money, Mother.”
“Kingston.” A warning is buried in her voice, but I ignore it.
She’s up to something, I know that.
The woman’s prints are all over whatever this lesson she’s hell-bent on handing out to her sons is, and now she has me in her sights.
Thing is, I’m just interested in the money, the worth of the jewel. Which is why I never said a word when Ryder told me about her message about it going missing.
One month today until my birthday. Seems I was right in my guess of where this might be headed. No quest written by my father before his death. But a quest is coming. With stipulations.
If she’s got the fucking tiara and is pretending it’s missing so I can jump through her hoops, we’re going to be having a talk when this is all done. But until then, until I know more, I’m biding my time.
“It’s a month early, but I’m pretty sure I know why I’m here.”
Jenson makes himself busy by taking a seat behind his desk and going through a file that’s on his desk, next to his computer.
“And why is that, darling?” Faye Sinclair is one of those timeless women who looks good no matter their age, and hers is well preserved.
I’ve no idea if she’s had work beyond a filler or Botox or whatever the latest technique is these days, but if she has, it’s a master class in subtlety.
“Why?” I sigh loudly, deliberately. “Because you’re here and it’s happy birthday dear Kingston in one month, that’s why. I’m not in the habit of being called to see Father’s attorney.”
My mother seats herself in the chair next to me, crosses her ankles, and leans on the arm. Her eyes sparkle. “We’ll cut to the chase.”
Jenson clears his throat. “It seems, Kingston, your quest is missing.”
“Along with the tiara.” My mother sits back and shakes her head, but her gaze is on me.
If she wants to play games, then I’ll play my own. I know my brothers and she’ll know the message was passed on, but she won’t know if I’ve done anything, so I just stay quiet. And wait.
“You’re going to need to find it.”
“Any…clues?” I ask.
“It was in a safe and when we went to get it as per the instructions it was empty.”
I swing my gaze back to Jenson. “Maybe our father fell on hard times.”
“Not at all.”
I don’t know if Jenson is using his lawyer face and tone or if he simply lacks humor. It’s not like we’re close.
“But if the quest isn’t completed and the tiara back in the right hands, ours, then…”
“The company is lost,” my mother says quietly.
I frown. “If someone apparently took the quest along with the final Sinclair jewel, then why would they keep it? I’m not sure my father’s hand-written letter to me is worth money.”
“You should respect your father.”
“Should I, mother? It’s not like he respected you.”
She thins her lips. “I fight my own battles and you know nothing of our relationship.”
It’s interesting she says it that way, like they had one beyond whatever friendship came about after the cheating and their divorce and our father’s penchant for younger models of Faye. But I keep that to myself.
“If you get the tiara,” Jenson says, “by your birthday, then the company won’t be dissolved.”
“Dissolved?” My heart starts to beat hard and fast.
Mother nods. “Here.” She opens her bag and pulls out a thick cream envelope. Her name on the front.
I take it as something flutters to the floor. Swiping it up, my mother plucks it from me before I can do more than briefly glance at the scrap of paper. I don’t say anything, just open the envelope and smooth the letter out.
It’s as she says. All his sons must be ready for their tasks, and the tiara is the crowning jewel. I wince at the pun. There’s more. Our inheritance will be lost. It says if we take it and the jewels in question aren’t in Jenson’s hands when we’re given the quest—ours to turn down or accept if we wish—then our inheritances are forfeit and the Sinclair flagship company will be dissolved.
I don’t give a fuck about our inheritance. I don’t think Ryder, Magnus, or Hudson does either. We’re all billionaires in our own rights. We don’t need that money. I’d like it, but I don’t need it.
But the company dissolved? And the four of us siblings unable to buy it or even a share?
That’s some real bullshit right there.
I’m looking for the fucking tiara, anyway, because I want it.
What I don’t like is this twist. I don’t like being screwed with from beyond the grave. I don’t like whatever stakes my mother might have.
I don’t like the added pressure of this shit that smacks of manipulation.
Rising, I pocket the letter. “I’ll get that damn tiara.”
And with that, I turn on my heel and stalk out the door.
No, I don’t like that something which matters to us is on my shoulders, my responsibility.
But the thing I hate most of all?
What I saw on that paper.
One word.
Just one.
But I know what it means.
Raven.
Somehow, someway, Sadie is tangled with my mother.
I’ll keep that to myself.
But I’m going to keep an eye on Sadie Hess.
Real close.
And I’m going to find out the truth.