Chapter 8 Kingston
KINGSTON
“Let’s go,” I say with impatience while frowning at my watch. “We’re going to miss our ride.”
Livvie huffs as she runs around the first floor of the penthouse, sticking pins into her hair. She holds them between her teeth and uses one hand to secure them while the other hand clutches a pair of ridiculously high heels.
She drops them onto the marble tile and slips her feet in at the same time she finishes with her hair.
“Jesus, is it too much to ask for you to be ready on time?”
“Oh, wait,” she says breathlessly, running back to the bedroom. She comes back and dangles a pair of earrings in front of me. “I almost forgot.”
“Can you please hurry the fuck up?” I mutter.
“Guess the dew is off the rose in this marriage, hmm, hubby?” She flashes a flirty grin that makes me want to bend her over the couch and make her scream my name.
I respond in turn with my own knowing grin. “Everyone always says the first year is the hardest. Guess we’re just proving them right.”
“Trust me, there will only be one year if I have anything to say about it.” She secures the second earring and then flips me off.
I bite back a smirk. She’s got balls, I’ll say that. But as much as I want to punish her smart-ass mouth by shoving my cock deep inside of it, we have a gala to get to.
Lots of curious eyes will be watching us tonight, trying to find chinks in the armor. So I’m going to have to somehow control my mouthy bride, somehow being the operative word.
She flounces to the door, her ass swinging from side to side in that insanely tight black gown.
But just as she stabs the Down button for the elevator, I call out that we’re going up.
She turns, a blank look on her face. “Up?”
I nod, striding past her to press the Up button.
“What’s upstairs?”
“The roof.”
A minute later, I pull open the door to the roof and helipad. Dad wanted us to make a big entrance to the gala, so he sent a sleek black helicopter to make a statement.
“Fuck,” Livvie cries out, shielding her face and hair from the powerful winds circulating courtesy of our ride. The air whips through my hair as I walk toward the helicopter.
High heels click along the ground behind me, Livvie’s complaints bringing a genuine smile to my lips.
I don’t bother to hold back the chuckle when I turn to help her climb inside.
Her cheeks are bright pink, eyes glittering with rage. And her hair is a complete windblown mess.
She still looks more gorgeous than ever, but I’d never give her the satisfaction of vocalizing that compliment.
“You are such an asshole,” she seethes. “You didn’t even warn me and now my hair looks like a total rat’s nest.”
I furrow my brow. “Not exactly. More like you stuck your wet finger into an electric socket.”
She gasps, her eyes flying open wide. “Fuck you, Kingston.”
I shrug and put on the headset, then hand one to her.
She shakes her head. “I’m not putting it on. My hair is enough of a mess.”
“You know that your ears will hate you if you don’t.”
“Not as much as I hate you,” she sing-songs back.
I shrug. “Suit yourself.”
Once we’re up in the air, it takes all of thirty seconds before Livvie clamps her hands over her ears and lets out a frustrated cry.
“Goddammit, give them to me,” she shouts, sticking her hand out.
I hand the headphones to her and wait before she clamps them on her head before saying, “Told you. Guess you’re not as tough as you thought.”
“Well, you’re definitely as big of a prick as I thought.” She pulls out all the pins from her hair, letting it cascade over her shoulders in glossy waves. Running her fingers through them, she lets out a sigh. “So what’s the deal with this gala, anyway? Why are we even going?”
“It’s a show of power and unity. My family, your family, us taking our rightful place in their world. All part of their show, just like the sham wedding.”
“When I imagined what I wanted to be in life, puppet was never on the list,” she scoffs, twisting her head to stare out at the glittering city lights below.
“You and me both,” I mutter. She looks back at me, a glimmer of surprise in her bright eyes as if what I just confessed connects us in some way. Her lips part as if she wants to say something, but then the pilot’s voice breaks her thought.
“Mr. and Mrs. Viacava, we’ll be landing in about a minute. Someone will be on the rooftop to meet you and escort you into the gala.”
“Thanks,” I respond, straightening my bow tie. I fucking hate black tie but tonight is all about appearances so I put on the fucking tux to appease my father. I bring a hand to the back of my neck, my eyes dropping to the glimpse of leg I get when the slit of her dress separates.
Maybe black tie isn’t so bad after all.
The helicopter touches down on the roof of the Midtown Loft.
Livvie pulls off her headset, tosses it on the seat next to her, and flips her hair, the scent of her vanilla and citrus shampoo wafting under my nose.
I take in a deep breath, holding it in my lungs until she turns to give me a withering look.
“Are you planning on hanging out here all night? Or do we want to rub elbows with power players of the criminal underworld?” She runs her fingers through her hair, her lips lifting into a smirk. “I mean, I finally got my hair issues resolved. What are we waiting for?”
I chuckle as the door opens and someone appears to help her climb out.
But fuck that.
I thrust out my arm to block her path and step down first, extending my hand out to her. “If my wife needs a hand, I’ll be the one to give it.”
She pauses for a second, then offers a forced smile and takes my hands.
“However did I manage to disembark a chopper before you, Kingston?” she says as we walk toward the glass door, her arm looped in mine.
“All about putting on a show, right?” I look down at her and she nods quickly.
“Always and only.” Her lips pull into a tight smile. “Even if backstage is a prison.”
A man opens the door and waves his hand into the opulent hallway. Golden sconces adorn the walls, and crystal chandeliers glitter from their perch on the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the space.
The doors to the ballroom open. My arm drops, snaking around her waist, my hand firm against her as we walk into the lion’s den. I pull her close, gritting my teeth when I see that asshole Roman standing with a woman near the bar.
Their heads are bent as they talk in hushed tones. She smiles, then puts a hand on his arm.
That’s when Livvie stiffens against me. My blood curdles in my veins, rage rising in my chest.
I dig my fingers into her waist. “Smile,” I hiss. “Otherwise, you’ll look weak.”
“I need a drink,” she murmurs.
“Why? Because that jackass is over there and you want to see him up close?”
I nudge her toward a vacant corner and back her against the wall, pasting a fake-ass smile on my face. I wrap an arm around her, nuzzling her ear.
“Don’t make me look like a fucking fool, Livvie. I don’t know why the hell he keeps showing up where you are, but I don’t like it. And you’d better not think of engaging with him. Understand?”
She reaches a hand around the back of my head, laces her fingers into it, and gives it a hard tug backward. “Are you seriously telling me who I can and cannot speak to? I am not your property, Kingston.”
“That ring on your finger says otherwise, princess. And you’ll do what I say when I say it. I’m responsible for your safety now. Not him.”
Her expression of disgust falters for a split second, like she now remembers that our lives hung in the balance just a few hours ago at our wedding reception.
“Neither of us knows who took that shot,” I say. “For all you know, that guy had something to do with it.”
Livvie lets out a dry laugh. “He’s my dad’s top security guy. There’s no way he’d target me. Roman will always look out for me out of loyalty to my da. Who, by the way, trusts him a hell of a lot more than he trusts my husband.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your father’s directives or who he trusts. You’re a Viacava now, so start acting like it. You heard the same threat I did from that Red Tribunal asshat. We play our parts or there will be consequences. So stay away from the pretty boy wearing a cheap suit.”
My pulse hammers hard against the side of my throat. She’s so close, so fucking fiery. My fingers fist the flimsy fabric of her dress, so tempted to tear it from her body. I wonder what kind of panties she’s wearing under there.
I wonder if she’s wearing panties at all…
Her lips slowly curl upward. “Wow, Kingston. You’re jealous that he can carry off a cheap suit and you have to pay a tailor to make you look good.”
I smirk. “You think I look good, princess?”
She licks her lips and my pulse thrums. “You’re not hard to look at. Shame your huge fucking ego makes you ugly. If I want to talk to my family’s security detail, I will and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Anger flares in my chest. “If people see that asshole swarm you, they’ll talk.
They’ll think my family is weak, that your fucking family still has a hold over you.
That our union is worthless.” I lean in close.
“And make no mistake, that is definitely not the case. So play your goddamn part or else.”
“Or else what?” she sneers. “Are you going to bend me over your knee and spank me?”
“Is that a request, princess?” I growl through gritted teeth. “I bet your little pussy would love it so fucking much, you’d soak your panties.”
“Ha, doubtful,” she scoffs as I lift a hand and run my thumb over her jugular. It pulses hard against the pad of my fingertip and I smile.
“You need to have a serious talk with that body of yours, Liv. Because it keeps betraying you.”
Her lips part, no doubt ready to make a snappy comment in response when my brother’s booming voice breaks through the tension so thick, you could use a steak knife to cut it.