13. Sterling
STERLING
T he night tasted of iron. My knuckles stung from connecting with bone one too many times, and the metallic warmth of blood clung to my skin, like an unwanted second layer. The Kingsley name demanded loyalty, and when that loyalty wavered, I was the one sent to collect. Tonight was no different.
The warehouse smelled like rot and desperation.
Crates, stacked high, cast long shadows in the flickering light of a single hanging bulb, making the place look like something out of a cheap horror film.
My men flanked me, their footsteps echoing ominously, as we approached the center of the room where the traitor was bound to a chair.
His head lolled forward, blood dripping from his swollen lip onto the floor in rhythmic splatters.
"He’s awake," Frankie said, his voice clipped. He nudged the man’s shoulder with the tip of his boot, causing a weak groan to escape the traitor’s throat.
"Good," I muttered, flexing my fingers. They ached, but not enough to stop me.
The man in the chair lifted his head, one eye swollen shut, the other filled with defiance. His name was Derek, a mid- level operative, who thought he could skim from my family’s accounts, and live to tell the tale. He’d been wrong.
"You’ve been busy," I said, crouching in front of him so our eyes were level. My voice was calm, even pleasant, but it carried an edge sharp enough to draw blood. "You thought I wouldn’t notice a few missing zeroes here and there?"
He spat, the glob of blood and saliva landing on the concrete near my shoe. "You’re nothing but a spoiled brat playing king."
Frankie chuckled darkly from behind me, but I didn’t react. Instead, I grabbed Derek’s chin, forcing him to look at me. My grip tightened until his face turned red, the veins in his neck straining against the pressure.
"I’m not playing anything," I said softly, my tone almost tender. "You think skimming from the Kingsleys was a smart move? You thought you’d get away with it? Tell me, Derek, did it feel good spending my money?"
He tried to jerk his head away, but my grip was unyielding. His good eye darted around the room, looking for an escape that didn’t exist.
"Please," he rasped, his voice cracking. "It was just a mistake. I needed the money for my family."
I laughed, the sound cold and humorless. "Your family? That’s the excuse you’re going with? Do you think my family runs on charity, Derek? You think I built all of this by letting people like you steal from me?"
I released his chin and stood, looking down at him like the insect he was. "Frankie, the knife."
Frankie handed me the blade without hesitation, the hilt fitting perfectly in my palm. The weight of it was familiar, almost comforting. I twirled it once, the steel glinting in the dim light, and crouched again.
"Here’s the thing, Derek," I said, pressing the tip of the blade against his cheek. "You’re going to pay me back. Not with money, oh no, you’ve already squandered that chance. You’re going to pay with your blood."
His scream echoed through the warehouse, as I carved the Kingsley insignia into his skin, slow and deliberate.
Each stroke of the blade was a reminder of who he’d betrayed, a warning to anyone else who might get ideas.
By the time I was finished, he was sobbing, his defiance replaced by unadulterated fear.
"Clean him up," I ordered, tossing the knife onto a nearby crate. "And make sure this message gets to everyone who needs to see it. No one steals from me."
Frankie nodded, already signaling the other men to drag Derek away. The traitor’s cries faded into the distance as they hauled him out of the warehouse, leaving me alone with my thoughts, and the lingering scent of blood.
I glanced down at my hands; the crimson staining my skin a stark contrast to the pale scars that criss crossed my knuckles.
I needed to clean up, but the thought of going back to my suite at the country club felt suffocating.
There was only one place I wanted to be, one person who occupied my every waking thought.
Zara.
The drive back to the estate was silent, the hum of the engine the only sound.
Frankie sat in the passenger seat, his presence a quiet reminder of the life I’d chosen, the life that made me who I was.
He didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry into the obsession I knew he’d noticed.
That was why I kept him close; he understood the value of discretion.
When we pulled into the circular driveway of the Kingsley mansion, I didn’t bother parking in the garage.
I stepped out, the chilly night air biting at my skin, and made my way inside.
The house was dark, the staff long since retired for the evening, but I didn’t need lights to navigate.
My feet carried me up the grand staircase, past the ornate portraits of Kingsley ancestors, who watched with judgmental eyes, and down the hall to her room.
The door was unlocked, as I knew it would be. She was too trusting, too na?ve for her own good. I slipped inside, closing the door softly behind me, and let my eyes adjust to the dim light filtering through the curtains.
She was there, curled up on the bed, her breathing slow and even. The moonlight cast a soft glow on her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheek, the flutter of her lashes against her skin. She looked peaceful, unaware of the storm that was me.
I stepped closer, my boots silent against the plush carpet.
The blood on my hands had dried, cracking against my knuckles, but I didn’t care.
I reached out, my fingers hovering just above her cheek and, for a moment, I considered waking her.
I wanted to see those defiant eyes, to hear her sharp tongue, even as her body betrayed her. But I didn’t. Not yet.
For once I wasn’t looking for a fight.
My cock grew hard at the thought of our bond, even while my mind sneered.
She was so much more than a mere family member.
She was in my blood. An obsession I couldn’t shake. My gaze fixated on her sleeping form. In a haze, I slowly drew her nightgown up, revealing her mouthwatering tits to my gaze. Her belly was softly rounded and, for a second, I could see what she would look like, pregnant with my child.
The very idea sent me in a tailspin, and before I knew it, I was spitting on her pussy, and shoving my cock deep inside. She was tight and a bit dry, but I kissed down her neck, unperturbed.
That she hadn’t woken up surprised me, and I looked at her nightstand to see some kind of headache medicine. I wondered if it had knocked her out? Did she know how potent those drugs are?
I fucked her faster, furious that she was so vulnerable in her sleep.
She moaned as I lifted her legs high and I thrust deeper, determined to flood her again, keep our child sealed inside her, a living brand no ring could match.
If she still dared claim she wasn’t mine, the heartbeat under her skin would prove her a liar.
Only then would she throw out this ridiculous notion of not being mine.
Who gave a damn if our shitty parents got married?
She was mine, and I was going to be hers. I turned her over and pulled her hips up, so that she was sort of kneeling. I had to support her and it wasn't easy. She kept falling to one side. I knelt behind her and pushed my cock into her again.
“I am never letting you go, my little hummingbird,” I whispered in her ear. I don’t know why calling her by that forbidden title got me off, but I was coming harder than I had ever come before.
Lightning flashed behind my eyelids, as my cock let loose inside her unprotected pussy.
It brought me great joy, knowing she couldn’t use birth control.
Not here. Not under my watch. My family’s donations bought the university clinic, and every prescription passed through my approval.
Even off campus, she wouldn’t dare defy me.
I made it clear what would happen if she tried. I needed an heir, and who better to carry mine than my precious little hummingbird?
A successful endeavor indeed.
After I came, I sat in the armchair by the window, my gaze fixated on her.
I wanted to climb in bed and cuddle her close to me, but I was already tempting fate from the deep fucking I gave her unconscious body.
I didn’t know how long I stayed there, watching her chest rise and fall, but time seemed irrelevant.
She was a puzzle I couldn’t solve, a temptation I couldn’t resist.
When she stirred, shifting in her sleep, my breath caught. She murmured something, a soft, unintelligible sound that sent a jolt through me. I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees, and allowed myself a moment of weakness.
"You’re mine, Zara," I whispered, the words barely audible. "You just don’t know it yet."
The weight of my obsession pressed against my chest, suffocating and exhilarating all at once. I knew it wasn’t healthy, knew it wasn’t right, but I didn’t care. She was the one thing I couldn’t control, and that made me want her all the more.
When the first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, I stood, my movements careful so as not to wake her.
Before I left, I glanced around the room, taking in every detail; the soft throw draped over the armchair, the stack of books on her nightstand, the faint scent of lavender that clung to the air.
I’d have cameras installed today. Not just in her room, but throughout the house.
As I slipped out of her room and made it to the room I’d claimed, a plan formed in my mind.
I needed to know where she was at all times, needed to see her even when I couldn’t be near her.
It was a small price to pay for the peace of mind that came with knowing she was safe, and mine.
Zara thought she could run from me, thought she could keep her secrets hidden. But I was a Kingsley, and Kingsleys didn’t lose. Not to traitors, not to enemies, and certainly not to the women who made them weak.
By the time the staff began stirring, the cameras were already being installed. I watched from my office as the technicians worked, ensuring every angle of the house was covered. Zara wouldn’t have a single moment of privacy, not unless I allowed it.
"Everything’s set up," Frankie said, stepping into the room with a satisfied smirk. "You’ll have eyes on her 24/7."
"Good," I replied, my gaze fixed on the monitor. One of the feeds showed her room, the soft glow of morning light illuminating her sleeping form. "Make sure no one knows about this. Not the staff, not her."
"You got it, boss," Frankie said, clapping me on the shoulder.
“No one touches her,” I murmured. “Understood?”
Frankie smirked. “No one would dare.”
They wouldn’t. But if they tried?
I flexed my fingers, remembering the way Derek had screamed, and smiled. I leaned back in my chair, my eyes never leaving the screen. Zara was mine, whether or not she realized it. And I would do whatever it took to keep her that way.