Twisted Crown (Dynasty of Queens #1)

Chapter 1 – Penelope

F or this having been only the second airplane ride in my short life, it wasn’t so bad. I looked down at the empty mini bottles tucked in the seatback in front of me. Those weren’t even a consideration when we flew to Disney fifteen years ago. Of course, when both your parents were with, flying seemed like fun to a ten-year-old. I shoved the bottles into my large purse, even though there was no fooling the old woman on my right or the flight attendants. They knew I had a decent buzz going. But since I was calm and collected, unlike the batch of toddlers five rows ahead, I was hoping they would let me leave without trouble.

Pushing to my feet, I tested my balance. There was no shaking in my legs, which was a good start. By the time I met my relatives in the pickup area, I would have a good handle on my coordination. It was a delicate balancing act to be comfortable on the nerve-racking flight but not be toasted when the people who had all the wealth, power, and influence collected me. They had to see me as a valuable asset, and that meant making a good first impression.

People shuffled about, grabbing their overhead bags. I waited my turn, snatched my own small suitcase, and proceeded to file out of the plane.

I did it. Step one in my plan was successfully accomplished.

This whole thing was madness, but so far Lady Luck was with me. A small thrum of excitement shot through my veins. I was really doing this. I was stepping into the world my mother ran from, that she fought so hard to keep us children from. Maybe it was the drinks, but there was no twinge of guilt for undoing her hard work.

She needed me—she needed her family.

Stepping from the humming interior of the plane into the Detroit airport was like plunging into the roaring sea. There were so many people. I swallowed hard, clutching my bags tightly. A deep gulp of air filled my lungs. It was stale, forcefully blown through the overhead filtration system, with a slight hint of grease from the restaurants attached to it.

But it sure beat motor oil, dirt, manure, and sweat.

I pushed deeper into the airport, gaze greedily soaking up the displays in the shop windows. This was just the airport! What was the actual city of Detroit like? I couldn’t wait to explore. It was so different than Carrington, although the few times I’d been to Fargo, there was this level of commerce and consumerism. Gaze darting about, taking in the different sights, I must have missed a turn. And then another.

Crap.

My small town swagger fizzled out.

I stared at the overhead signs, wandering through different halls and corridors. Speedy trains whizzed along the exterior of the far wall, but I didn’t dare hop on one. Who knew where I’d wind up. So I continued to walk. The sounds faded and the crowds thinned. The fixtures overhead seemed nicer, brighter, less harsh…if that was possible.

A mostly empty wing proved to be a dead end. Turning, I spied a sliding glass door. It looked as good as any option, so I ventured inside. Soothing instrumental music with bamboo flutes and water sounds enveloped me. A large black stone fountain gurgled to the side, and opposite that was an empty desk. Although the sense that I didn’t belong here tickled the back of my mind, I marched up to the desk and leaned on it, hoping to find a bell for the attendant. I would just ask where I should go, since this area was clearly above my pay grade.

“There’s nothing to steal,” a deep voice observed.

I jumped, nearly falling out of my skin. “I wasn’t stealing!”

The first thing I noticed was his smile. It cracked across his face, making him look predatory. I’d shot to scare off wolves with that same feral look who’d come snooping around the spring calves. But no creature from the lupine family looked that good in a suit. The soft black material was a second skin, curving over his broad frame like a coat of armor. The color might be dark, but it was the lightest thing about him. Those black eyes twinkled, swallowing the light and refusing to give it back.

That voice was the texture of granite, but amusement laced his words. “If you say so.”

“I do,” I insisted. I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze. Damn, but he was tall.

He hummed, the sound rich and hypnotizing. I steeled my spine. That was exactly the kind of noise a beast would make to lull prey into letting their guard down.

I knew better. I was a damn good hunter, and I never backed down from a challenge.

“I’m looking for the front desk person,” I stated calmly.

His brows lifted. “The receptionist?”

That was when I noticed the lilt behind his words. There was a rhythmic form to his speech that made it a safe guess he wasn’t a native English speaker. Curiosity piqued in me. I swept another look over his figure but couldn’t place his origins. Or his age. He wasn’t young, but the years hadn’t marked his features with lines or greys.

“Yes,” I answered.

“You thought you’d find him hiding under the desk?” he mused.

My lips thinned. “I was looking for a bell.”

“Ah.” The grin broadened.

And he’s mocking me. It was probably glaringly obvious that I didn’t belong here. My jeans might be unripped, but they were far from new. My boots had seen a few summers, but the buckskin-brown hid their age. And the button-up shirt with the hat and belt buckle made me look like I’d come straight from the rodeo. But I was damn proud of my country girl roots, even if the big city did call my name and I’d finally had a reason to answer the summons.

The man took a container from his inner pocket, tapped it against his palm, and plucked a fat cigar from the interior. While I was still wondering who carried smokes in a shiny metal case, he put it to his lips.

“You can’t smoke in here!” I gasped, stepping forward.

Didn’t the idiot know that was a fire hazard? There were designated smoking areas throughout the airport. I might not be a world traveler, but even I knew that!

Quirking a brow, he held my gaze as he flicked the fancy metal lighter. There was a definite challenge in his eyes.

He isn’t really going to do it.

Only, his hand wasn’t stopping. He brushed the tip of the flame over the stick.

Anger bubbled inside me. Rich city people, who thought they could do whatever they wanted. There were rules for a reason! And not smoking in the airport was definitely a rule.

Right?

Yes, it was. The memory of the automatic speaker robot-lady talking about the smoking lounge as I wandered aimlessly through the corridors came to mind. This fancy ass lounge definitely wasn’t one of those places.

“Put that out,” I demanded, glaring at him.

The man blew a puff of smoke into the air. I refused to acknowledge how good whatever fancy brand of tobacco that was smelled. That wasn’t a cheap smoke from the gas station full of fillers and junk. It was likely pure tobacco leaves from a really good source.

Saliva trickled on my tongue.

The man cocked his head to the side. “Now why would I do that?”

The need to make him stop swelled inside. He didn’t think he had to listen. A prick who was above the rules—oh, sweet Moses! That just wasn’t going to fly with me.

But I knew better than to scold. Me telling him would only fuel his need to taunt me. It was time to take action. Show this big, bad wolf who was boss.

“Because it’s wrong,” I enunciated every word, stalking forward as I spoke.

“Then why does it feel so right?” he drawled.

That observation sounded downright sinful. A tendril of something warm curled deep in my belly.

I faltered. The instinct to pluck the stick from his fingers, to take a drag….

But when the beastly wretch smiled, I snapped out of the trance.

“Put it out,” I demanded.

“No.”

“Fine.” And with that, I lunged.

There was no way, given my size and stature that I should have been able to do what I did. I could only explain it by having the luck of surprise. The giant of a man swayed backward, pawing wildly for my wrist. I jerked back, escaping his grasp. He lost his balance and toppled into the serene fountain.

The suave, polished man splashed hard in the basin of water.

Holy shit on a shingle. What did I just do?

I gaped at him.

He seemed just as shocked and speechless. We stared at one another—for three heartbeats.

And then reality snapped into place.

His tanned face reddened. A dark spark lit in his eyes. That was my cue to leave. As he bellowed something incoherent, I darted to my bag, snatched the extended handle, and fled out the sliding doors, skimming against the glass panels that were opening too slowly.

My heart hammered as I ran down the airport corridor. Only after I rejoined the mass of civilization did I look back and see I wasn’t being followed. I pulled my hat off, wiped my sweating brow, and blew out a long breath.

That was a close one .

But then a smile pulled up my lips. There was a spring in my step as I at last found the path to baggage claim. As far as good deeds of the day were concerned, that was epic—a good start to the new chapter in my life.