Bad Boy Prince: A British Royal Stepbrother Romance (10 page)

“Just wondering what I’d have to do to get you to let me fuck you properly,” I say.

She goes from pink to red, and she scowls at me.

“Stop.”

“No, really. What do I have to do? Should I get tested and bring you the results, or something?” I ask, keeping my tone conversational. “Or does it need to be more romantic, I wonder? Roses and the whole lot?”

Her gaze narrows.

“We can’t do that.”

“Why not?” I ask. “How is that any different from me making you come with my mouth, my fingers?”

She glances around like she’s scandalized. “Keep your voice down.”

“Answer my question, Kitten. What is it, precisely, that is keeping you from doing what you’ve done dozens of times before?”

She glances at me, then glances away.

“Our parents are getting married, in case you didn’t remember.”

“Don’t play that card. You don’t care about that.”

“Maybe I do!” she argues.

“It’s a waste of time, you trying to lie to me. I can read you like a fucking comic book, Kitten.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“See,” I say, like she hasn’t interrupted, “I seem to remember you quite
enjoying
yourself in my bed before. In fact, you
enjoyed
yourself multiple times in one go, every time you were with me.”

“Jesus, Rex,” she says, shaking her head. “Not everything is about sex, you know?”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“So… it’s not our parents. It’s not me, because you know I’m clean. RAF tests every few months.” I pause. “It’s not romance you want, apparently. What is it? I’m really quite desperate to know, Kitty.”

She shoves me back a few inches, bringing our dance to an end. She leans in and hisses, “There are consequences to our actions, Rex. You just jump around from one thing to the next, no fucking regard to the wreckage you leave all around you. It must be nice to live that kind of charmed life, Prince Magnum.”

I reach for her, but she whirls and flees the ballroom.

It’s only then I realize that dozens of pairs of eyes are watching my every move, have probably watched me tease and grind on my stepsister-to-be.

Is that what she means by consequences?

I admit, I’m completely baffled. There’s this dark side to Kit, some old wound that’s never healed, and I wish like hell that she’d just tell me…

I don’t even know what it could possibly be, but it’s starting to make waves in the pond. Those waves are growing and growing, and if we don’t figure something out, our little rowboat is going to capsize.

Unless we stick together, I have the feeling that we’re both going to drown.

I don’t see Kit again at the ball, or back at my flat. I stay up late, half-waiting for her, but she doesn’t show. Eventually I collapse in my bed, conscious of the stench of whiskey on my breath.

I open my eyes as dawn is about to break.

Why am I awake? I’m not exactly the lightest of sleepers.

That’s when I hear the voices, Kit and a man. They’re arguing, and they’re not being very quiet about it either.

I pull on a shirt and some sweatpants and head into the living room. In the foyer, Kit and Charles are absolutely having it out. So loudly and intensely that they don’t even notice me.

I press the security button just outside my bedroom, anticipating the need to get this asshole off my damn property. I move toward them slowly, shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation. I stop and stand behind the wall that separates the foyer from the living room. I can see and hear them, they can’t see me unless they really look for me.

“I don’t care what you have to do, Katherine,” Charles warns. “I want what you promised me, or I’m telling Rex and your parents everything. Is it worth throwing your life away?”

“I told you, I can’t just casually call them up and start demanding things,” Kit snaps. “Someone’s going to wonder where it’s going. The lawyers will ask questions.”

“Then you’d better come up with a good lie. Otherwise, everyone is going to know about—”

Just when I’m about to step out into their line of sight and roust Charles from the flat, Kit actually slaps him. Hard, right across the mouth.

“Shut the fuck up,” she cries. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, you fucking traitor! If you’d just kept it in your pants—”

“I’ve done that for five years, Katherine,” Charles growls. “It’s not my fault that Prince Charming made you a frigid bitch, is it?”

Kit raises her hand, ready to slap him again, and Charles raises his fist.

Before I realize it, I’ve got Charles up against the wall, my arm across his throat.

“Don’t you ever raise your hand to her, you stupid fuck,” I grit out. “I don’t know what you’re holding over her head, but I would be happy to kill you and solve all her problems.”

Charles struggles weakly against me, his expression wild and furious.

“You… don’t… even… know…” he tries.

The elevator dings, and three dark-suited security agents step into the flat.

“Your highness, is there a problem?” one of them asks.

“You’re god damned right,” I say.

I step back, releasing Charles. Then I grab him by the collar and drag him toward the guards.

“You can’t do this!” he says as two of them grab him by the arms. “I’ll ruin her, I swear I will!”

“Stop,” I tell the guards. I move to stand squarely before Charles. “Don’t threaten her, asshole. If I asked them to, these three would take you downstairs and make sure you’re never seen again. Is that what you want?”

Charles just glares at me.

“Fucking thought not. I don’t know what you’re holding over her, but I don’t want to hear from you again. If I find out you contacted her—”

“She’s not the only one whose reputation is on the line here. You think your hands are clean?” Charles hisses. “You’re in bigger shit than she is,
your highness
.”

I can’t resist. I punch him, right in the fucking jaw, and he topples like a rag doll. He’s out like a fucking light, from just the one punch. Predictable.

“Get him out of here,” I say, shaking my hand out.

The security guards drag him off, and I turn to find Kit standing behind me. She trembling and crying now, her eyes wide with something close to terror.

“Shit, come here,” I say. I reach for her, but she just shakes her head and backs away.

“Stay away. Don’t touch me,” she says.

What? What the hell is that about?

But she’s already half-sprinting for her bedroom. I hear the door slam, and then I’m left alone, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

There’s a secret, and it seems it’s not just Kit’s…

Tomorrow, Lady Katherine and I are going to have one
hell
of a conversation.

“
T
here you are
,” I say when Kit finally emerges from her room the next day, moving like a woman on a mission. “We need to talk.”

I set aside the sheaf of investment documents that I’ve been poring over and turn my full attention to Kit instead.

She pauses, halfway to the front door. Then she turns and looks at me, and I’m taken aback. Her eyes are nose are red and swollen. Her cheeks are flushed. It’s obvious that she’s been crying.

On top of that, her usual pulled-together grace is gone. She’s wearing an oversized striped sweater and leggings, her hair in a bedraggled ponytail. Personally, she can walk about in a paper bag if she wants, but Kit’s usually so hyper-conscious about that kind of thing.

“I need you to drive me somewhere,” she says, her voice hoarse.

She’s clutching her purse for dear life, and I can see the edge of a white envelope sticking out of it.

“Yeah, all right,” I say. “Where?”

“Allsley’s End,” she says. A slummy part of town, all strip clubs and sailor bars. Somewhere a girl like Kit certainly has no business going.

“What? Why?” I ask, standing.

She looks so exhausted and miserable, I almost walk over and put my arms around her. Except I think about her reaction last night, about her cryptic accusations, and I hold myself back instead.

“Is there any chance we can do this without you asking me any questions?” she says, pressing her fingertips to her temple. “If not, I’ll take a cab instead. I just don’t want to involve an outsider if I can help it.”

I blow out a breath and tuck my dress shirt back into my slacks. I’ve already been to the office today, while Kit was hiding out in her room.

“Fine,” I agree. “But only because you seem like you’re about to fall apart or something.”

She doesn’t say anything.

I grab my keys and get my shoes on, then lead her downstairs to the car. Kit’s just silent, unyielding. I can feel her hurting, but she doesn’t seem interested in divulging her secrets.

Has that ever stopped me, though?

“I wish you’d talk to me,” I say when we’re halfway to Allsley’s End and she still hasn’t uttered a peep.

Kit looks at me.

“I can’t,” she says, then looks away.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” I ask.

I can see a flash of ugly humor on her face.

“Because. I’m selfish. I don’t want anyone to know. And…” she pauses, shaking her head. “Because I like the way we’ve been getting along, lately.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, baffled.

“It means, Prince Alasdair, that if I tell you, you won’t feel the same way about me. I know that there can’t be anything real between us, but I’ve enjoyed… whatever has been. This secret…” She sucks in a breath and blows it out. “If it comes out, I’ll have to go back to the States or something. My reputation will be so ruined that I’ll be radioactive. No one will stand with me.”

“I will.”

She looks at me, then shakes her head.

“You won’t. You don’t understand.”

“So make me understand,” I say, growing frustrated.

“I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“Fine, then. I won’t. It’s my burden, so it’s my secret to keep. Take this right,” she says, pointing.

I follow her directions for a couple minutes, irritation roiling in my gut. We pull onto a block that’s dominated by a squat gray brick building, no windows and just one door that I can see. A flickering neon sign hangs over that lone door, and I start to get a bad feeling about it all.

“Here. Stop here,” she says. “I’m going right in and out, less than five minutes. Wait for me here.”

“The Pink Pony?” I ask, staring at the sign of the building she’s about to enter. “What kind of low rent fucking strip club are you going into, and why?”

Before she can answer, the drab aluminum door opens. And what do you know, out steps Charles, his collar turned up against the cooling evening weather.

“Jesus, Kit. Are you kidding with this?” I ask.

“Please, Rex. Please, please. Just stay here.”

She stares at me for a long moment until I sigh and lean back in my seat, the only sign of assent she’s going to get. Kit opens the door and jumps out of the car. I watch her go, curiosity eating at me.

She pulls the plain white envelope from her purse and hands it to Charles. He rips it open, gives her a skeptical look, then shoves it into an inner pocket of his coat.

Then he says something that makes Kit’s face crumple. He points a finger in her face, and she shakes her head and throws her hands up.

He’s shaking her down a second time, it seems obvious enough.
That’s how blackmail works, isn’t it?

Finally she gets back in the car and Charles goes on his merry fucking way. Me, I’m busy trying to figure if Kit will be mad when I hire some thugs to break that jackass’s fucking legs.

We’re both quiet the whole way home. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kit so unhappy, and it makes me want to rip down brick buildings with my bare hands.

I want to fix it, so fucking bad.
Why won’t she let me help her, god damn it?

Then,
because she doesn’t feel about you the way you feel about her, mate.

That hits me like a load of bricks. I haven’t spent a lot of time considering my swiftly-growing feelings for Kit. But I’ve considered her own feelings even less. It literally hasn’t occurred to me that she might not return my… affections, or whatever.

We are both brooding by the time we get back to the flat. I assume Kit’s going to vanish back to her room, but she surprises me.

“Do you think we could just lie together for a little while?” she asks, not quite able to meet my gaze. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

She’s absolutely fucking killing me. Especially when I see a tear roll down her cheek. I’d pretty much do anything for her right now, probably kill a puppy with my bare hands if she asked me to.

I’m fucked. I am really, really fucked.

I don’t say any of that, though. I take her hand and lead her to my bed. We kick our shoes off and crawl onto the bed. We both lie down and I tuck her against my body, pulling the covers over us both.

I struggle to find the right thing to say, the magic words that will make her open up to me. Kit’s still crying, though she’s silent about it.

I brush a lock of hair back and press my lips to her neck. She shivers.

Killing. Me.

“Just tell me, Kit. I can help you if you tell me. I promise, I won’t be upset.”

“I can’t,” she whispers.

“Why not?”

“Because you won’t look at me the same anymore, Rex. I… I like the way you look at me,” she says, her voice breaking.

I don’t know what to say to that.

“Just hold me, Rex,” she pleads.

And I do.

I hold her, without asking any more than that. No questions, no demands, no discussion of what will come tomorrow.

And when she turns to me in the middle of the night, tears on her face, and presses her lips to mine…

I kiss her, hard and hungry. I strip her clothes off and explore her body with my lips and teeth and tongue, making her wet, making her moan. Her taste is incredible, the feel of her rocking her hips against my mouth, her fingers burying in my hair. The sound of her crying my name over and over, unable to control herself.

When she comes, it’s like lightning crackling through my veins, knowing I did that. I made her feel that way. I
earned
my name on her lips.

As she relaxes in my arms once more, her body limp from the after-effects of her pleasure, I whisper in her ear.

“You’re going to be mine, Kitten. I’m going to have all of you.”

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t resist either.

Closer, I can tell I’m getting closer. Wearing her down.

It’ll have to do for now, I suppose.