He inhaled a deep breath through his nose. The clear blue flecks in his eyes darkened and blended against the green like a storm swirling against the ocean waves. “You live here, do you not?” I didn’t answer. The question was rhetorical anyway. “In my castle, everything is my fucking business.”
“Well, sir… As you so politely reminded me once before, this is your father’s castle, and I live here because of him. So, I don’t owe you anything. Newsflash, Your Highness: you’re not the king.”
He flinched then shook it away. Apparently, that was a blow to his ego. Even though he looked every inch of royal in his white button up shirt and navy-blue dress pants. The cuffs were rolled up on his shirt, revealing his thick, veiny forearms. I quickly averted my gaze to keep my imagination from going into deep, forbidden places.
“Where did you go?” he repeated, emphasizing every syllable of each word.
“Shopping. Obviously.”
I turned my back to walk away from him, but he grabbed me by the elbow and stopped me right before I reached the leather sofa. “Anywhere else?”
What was he? My keeper? I didn’t owe him any explanations.
Like the idiot I was, I gave one anyway. “Lunch.”
His grip tightened as he stepped closer, moving directly behind me. Tension crackled in the air. “With?”
“A friend.”
He pulled my arm, forcing my back against his chest, then pushed my hair to one side and breathed against my ear. “Try again. Who did you see yesterday?”
I focused on the bookshelves across the room, careful not to show any physical reaction. Even though my insides felt like lava. Bronte, Tolstoy, Austen—the books were a blur, but I knew the shelves by memory. The leather sofa, the wooden tables, the walls of bookshelves, and the closed door—they all seemed like bars of a cage holding me in. I wanted to escape but had nowhere to go. So, I dug my heels into the ground and decided to stand and fight. Breathe, Katie. Focus.
I didn’t like Sutton, but I loved the way this made me feel. How he always seemed at war with himself. Like the very thread that held him together threatened to snap and break when we were together. It was a unique kind of power, and I relished every moment of it.
“I saw lots of people. There was a woman drinking coffee, and a couple riding bicycles. Oh, and this one guy selling flowers. He tried to give me one for free. I didn’t take it, but I should have because he was really, really cute—”
“One more comment like that and I will fuck the memory of him right out of you.”
Sutton managed to tear me apart with his very words. I knew if he ever actually touched me—really touched me—it would rip me to shreds. He pressed his body against mine, then brought his hand around to my throat, tilting my head back. My heart thrummed in my chest. He was hard—all corded muscle with an erection that sent waves of heat licking up my thighs. I ignored the incomprehensible ache to reach behind my back and touch him. He wasn’t the only one with a thread, and I wasn’t the only one with power. My resilience was so close to snapping in two.
He leaned his head forward, dragging his cheek against mine until our faces aligned. I was so aware of him, of his closeness, of my thirst.
His lips brushed my skin as he spoke. “A name, Katie. Who did you have lunch with?”
Was he jealous? Why did he care who I was with?
“Chelsea.” Better yet, why was I even entertaining him? Because being this close to him, having him touch me like this, so brutal and possessive, was about to light me on fire from the inside out. The sooner I answered him, the sooner he would let me go. “And I wasn’t told I had to check in with you, so why does it matter?”
He raised his head and let go of my throat, bringing the air back to my frozen lungs. Then he slammed the paper against my chest, holding it there while I fought to catch my breath. And just like that, the spell was broken.
“This. This is why it fucking matters,” he spit out.
He stepped away as I took the paper from his hand and read the contents.
I spun around to face him, holding the printed threat out in front of me. “You think I sent this?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” I read the email again and almost felt sorry for him. I thought my life was miserable. I couldn’t imagine living every day thinking everyone I knew was out to get me. Oh wait, yes… I could.
“Why do you still go to the farm when it doesn’t belong to you? Do you think you can actually get it back? You think you have that kind of money? That kind of power? Or maybe you’re just fucking someone who does. That’s what you do, right? Fuck your way to the top like you tried to do with me?”
I squinted him into focus and carefully inspected his pupils. He had to be high because there was no way he was serious. I started toward the door, stopping when I reached for the handle. I looked over my shoulder at him. He looked as infuriated as I felt. Sutton wanted the truth? I pulled the pin and threw him the grenade, hoping it would blow up in his flawless face.
“I’m sorry you’re dealing with this. I really am. But I don’t know who sent that message. I can promise you that it wasn’t me. And not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not sleeping with anyone. I don’t know why my dad didn’t pay taxes or why my mama can’t answer my questions. I go to the farm because I don’t want to forget my old life. I don’t know what your mother hides behind sealed doors, or what your family did to deserve that email. And I don’t know why you hate me so much.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “It seems I’m the only one around here who doesn’t know much of anything. But I do know I don’t have to stand here and let you treat me this way.” I turned the handle and opened the door. “Good luck, Your Highness. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Twelve
I marched straight to the barracks to find Keaton, not caring if Sutton followed me. Someone was going to give me some answers, and if there was a threat to the Thorne family, Keaton would know about it. It was probably better off left alone. The email didn’t concern me. Except it did. Sutton thought I sent it. There had to be a reason for that.
If the rest of Thornebridge Castle was luxurious sophistication, the barracks were raw masculinity. They were all in one huge building behind the West Garden, a tall brick fortress with hardwood floors and storm gray walls. I never came to the barracks, but it was increasingly obvious that this wasn’t the type of place where respectable women hung out. Thank goodness, I wasn’t looking for respect. I was here for the truth.
Grown men wandered the wide, open hall in their underwear, groping and grabbing and scratching themselves as they went. Some simply ogled as I walked past. Others were more vocal. If my grandmother were here, she’d be clutching her pearls. This was a glorified frat house. I ignored the catcalls and whistles as I walked down the hall like I had any idea where I was going.
I approached one of the few fully clothed guards who I hadn’t caught checking out my butt. “I’m looking for Keaton.”
He stopped staring at his cell phone screen long enough to answer me then pointed down the hallway. “Down there. Third door on the left.”