Chapter 18
Serenity
An affectionate king. It should be impossible, but it isn’t.
He hasn’t stopped touching me in some way since we were intimate. And now that we’re at Estes’s estate for a dinner party, he’s being affectionate in public.
To be honest, I’m not entirely opposed to it. The ballbuster in me wants to slap his hands away, but each touch regrettably also draws up memories of heavy breathing and slick skin, and when I meet his eyes, they’re heated, as though he’s ready to repeat the afternoon’s activities at any given minute.
Like the one I wore earlier, this dress is far too constricting. That’s the only reason why I can’t catch my breath.
My eyes move around Este’s extravagant home, and they latch on to each piece of wealth the man’s accumulated. To think this was all acquired while his people starved—while we starved.
I see the guards posted at the four corners of the room. There are more outside, and even more stationed in the watchtowers that border the entrance to the estate. Everything here has been acquired through bloodshed and lies.
This will all come to an end. I vow it then and there.
A waiter passes by carrying a tray of various drinks. I snatch one of the champagne flutes. Just as my fingers wrap around the stem, Montes intercepts it.
I give him a disbelieving look.
“You really shouldn’t be drinking this with your cancer,” he says.
He can’t be serious.
“Give the alcohol back to me,” I demand.
“No.”
“I thought it didn’t matter to you whether I drank or not.”
“I lied,” he says. “It does. Now,” Montes looks around, “Let’s find you some sparkling cider.”
I breathe through my nose. “Give me the fucking drink.” The promise of alcohol was all that was keeping me from open mutiny.
He smiles at me and downs it.
People are watching, cameras are rolling. Our explosive interactions are on display. I can’t just brawl it out like I might’ve back in the bunker. Here it’s all about posturing.
I breathe in and out of my nose, and settle on glaring at him. “I hope you don’t expect me to be nice tonight.”
“You? Nice? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Bastard.
I leave him as soon as the first group of politicians approaches. My violent tendencies are bubbling to the surface, and if I don’t take them out on Montes, I’ll surely take them out on the fuckers in this room.
I feel the king’s eyes burning into my back as I walk away from him. He doesn’t like parting from me. I’d written this particular detail off as an aspect of his controlling nature—and it is—but it’s gotten worse as the attempts on my life have increased.
The most powerful man in the world has a single weakness, and that’s me. And I’m not above using it against him.
“La reina del mundo. It’s an impressive title.” Luca Estes steps up to my side, a glass of amber liquid in his hand.
“Mmm,” I manage, watching the room as the evening toils on. A warm breeze blows in from the open windows at my back.
At the moment, I’m mourning the fact that I left Montes to fend for myself among these people. Had I swallowed a bit of my pride, I might not have to bear Luca’s company alone. Estes is one of those men that doesn’t have a good side. He’s corrupt, violent, greedy, lecherous. The only question is which side of him I’ll see tonight.
“From what I hear, your father was against the match.”
Apparently he’s chosen asshole. At least he’s no longer trying to be nice.
“My father’s dead.” I take a sip of my drink. I need something stronger than the glass of water in my hand.
“Yes, my condolences,” he says, leaning in. I can smell the strong spirits on his breath.
“Fuck your condolences, Estes.” I don’t bother looking at him. “I know you didn’t like him.”
“I like him better than your new husband.”
Now I glance over at South America’s premier dictator. “That’s because my father couldn’t control you.” Montes can.
He grunts in agreement and takes a swallow of his drink. When he glances over at me again he levels his gaze at my cleavage.
“Last time I saw you, you wore a shapeless uniform. This is a much better look on you.”
Now he’s being a lecherous asshole.
“You and I both know the last time you saw me, it was the leaked footage of my return to the WUN. I believe I was wearing a dress then.”
“There was a dress under all that blood? Forgive me for not noticing.”
I don’t say anything.
The king throws a glance in our direction, which Estes notices. “He keeps you on a pretty short leash, doesn’t he? If I didn’t know better I’d say that he was obsessed.” He swirls his drink, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. “Tell me, does the infatuation go both ways?” He looks over at me. “I suppose it wouldn’t, considering what he did to your family—and your country.”
Even before Estes approached me, I knew what kind of man he was. So his words shouldn’t get a rise out of me, but they do. It’s taking every last ounce of restraint not to smash my glass across his face.
“I’ve been wondering what sort of bed play comes out of that union …” he muses.
Enough.
“In case you needed the reminder, I am ‘la reina del mundo’, and I won’t hesitate to use my position to remove you from power if I feel the desire. I am not half as decent as my father, so keep your sick perversions to yourself, Luca, and don’t fucking cross me.”
I stalk away from him. People give me wide berth, and I’m sure it has something to do with the harsh set of my face. The cameras begin panning in on me. I set my drink down on a sideboard and make a beeline for Montes. He’s in the middle of a flock of admirers. They too give me wide berth the moment I cut into their circle.
Montes watches me, a dark gleam in his eyes. He always did like my flare for the dramatic.
I wrap my arm around the back of his head before I kiss him. I’m angry, and I’m sure he can feel it in the harsh movements of my lips. This is no passionate kiss. All my usual rage and violence is wrapped into it.
“I’m done,” I say against his mouth. I’ve had enough fake smiles and false endearments for one evening. I should have had enough of the king as well, but instead, he feels like my one ally in a sea of enemies. It’s an illusion, but I can’t reason it away.
My father was right when he said appearances are everything. Let the world believe the king and I are some odd love match. Better that than the messy truth—that I hate him every bit as much as I care for him.
When I break away from the kiss, I take the king’s hand. He’s all too willing to follow me away from the quickly dissolving circle of admirers. But not five seconds later, he tugs my hand and reels me back into him until my chest is pressed against his.
He gazes down at me with amusement. “My vicious little queen,” he says low enough so that only I can hear him, “you should know by now not to test me in public.” His voice becomes husky. “And you should definitely know by now how to give your husband a real kiss.”
I warn him with my eyes that I’m in no mood, but it does nothing to stop him from bending me backwards and taking my mouth with his own. In this position, nearly parallel to the ground, I’m at his mercy.
Wolf whistles and claps come from the crowd.
This is ridiculous.
I bite his tongue even as I grip his arms. He smiles against the pain. The psycho actually enjoys it when I get mean. He drags the kiss out longer than necessary, just to further push my breaking patience. Finally, with flourish, he pulls me back to my feet.
The crowd’s still cheering.
Montes waves and steers me out. The last glimpse I catch is of Estes. He lifts his glass in salute. And then the front door closes behind us and all the pretty people are gone.
Our shoes click down the steps of Estes’s estate.
“What did Estes say to you to put that expression on your face?” he asks as we descend the stairs.
“The truth.” Isn’t that what hurts us so much?
“My queen doesn’t run from the truth. She leaves only after she’s threatened someone. So what did he say?”
I push away from the king. “What does it matter to you? My business is my own.”
The king makes a noise low in his throat. I can hear him at my back. “Your business is anything but your own. It’s mine, and it’s our empire’s.”
Our car pulls up to the curb.
“I don’t know how many times I have to say it,” I say, “but you don’t get to have everything, Montes. That includes knowledge.”
He grabs my arm and spins me so that I face him, and then he backs me up until he has me braced against the car. There are people out here. Not many—mostly just valets and guards, since the camera crews stayed behind—but we have onlookers all the same.
So much for appearances.
“You are very, very wrong.” I think this is the same tone he takes right before he ends someone’s life. His lips are a hairsbreadth from my own. “I do get to have all of you, whenever I want.” He grips my thigh, and it’s incredibly suggestive. “Even your conversations. Even your thoughts.”
Estes was right. Montes is nothing short of obsessed.
The king kisses me, and even that feels possessive, like he’s taking my lust along with everything else.
He hauls me away from the car and opens the door for me. “Everything you are is mine, and no threats of yours will ever change that.”