He leads me down the stairs, and within a second, we break out into the cool night air. The breeze is chilly, and I snuggle deeper into King’s hoodie. “So, what’s the deal with your dad?” I ask him as we start making our way down the grand stairs. “You guys seem to have a really strained relationship. Don’t take this in the wrong way, but it sounded like he kinda likes me more than you.”
King scoffs, keeping his hand at my lower back as he leads me down the stairs. “That’s the understatement of the year,” he laughs. “I don’t know how much he shared with you, but there were a few months when you were just a baby that you stayed with my family. Apparently, you and I even shared a bed.”
“Ironic that eighteen years later, I still found my way between your sheets.”
A cocky smile kicks up the side of his lips and I try to focus on what he’s saying rather than just how fucking gorgeous he is. “Concentrate,” he warns me with a devilish excitement lighting his eyes. “I don’t give out bedtime stories often.”
“Go ahead,” I tell him as we hit the bottom of the stairs. “You have my undivided attention.”
King rolls his eyes before hooking his arm over my shoulder and pulling me right into his side. “So, you were just a newborn and I think I was maybe one or something like that. I don’t really know, but I was a shit of a baby, and you were the perfect little angel, and my parents fell in love with you. You were apparently a daughter to them, and they wanted to raise you as their own. So when you were sent away into the foster system, it was like losing the one child they actually wanted.”
I shake my head. “No, it couldn’t have been like that. You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“I wish,” he tells me. “I was the firstborn son. I was the one who was put here to be a carbon copy of my father. My mother never wanted a son and was forced by Dynasty to abort three pregnancies before mine because they were all girls. My parents resent me, just as I do them, and as I grew and heard all the stories about the precious little heir that my parents got to love for those few short months, I guess I kinda resented you too.”
I look up at him, meeting his dark stare. “Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately, and if I’m completely honest with you, I think I resented you right up until I threw you against the wall of that shitty foster house and fucked it out of my system.”
“Well for what it’s worth,” I tell him, “I apologize for being such an awesome baby. Not all babies could have been as cool as me, and unfortunately, you were the prime example of that.”
King knocks my hips as we’re walking and I fumble over my next step, but he’s right there to catch me. “Knock it off,” he tells me. “The shitty babies are the ones who grow up to be fucking geniuses.”
“Uh-huh,” I laugh before glancing up at him again. “So, how are things with your father now? You don’t seem like you want to kill each other, so I guess that’s a bonus.”
“You just caught us on a good day,” he jokes. “But for the most part, it’s fine. We butt heads a lot, but I’m his heir so it was always going to be strained. It’s the same with all the guys and their fathers. I have a little brother and sister, Cody and Caitlin. They’re fraternal twins and I guess were Mom’s miracle babies. She didn’t think she could have any more and then seven years ago, she found out she was pregnant. They’ve thawed out a lot since they were born.”
“Really?” I ask, my eyes brimming with happiness. “I don’t know why I always seem so shocked when I learn something about all of your siblings. I guess it’s hard to picture such brute assholes like you with little kids running around.”
King laughs as we reach the top of Carver’s driveway, and just before something can come flying out of my mouth, his hand over my shoulder shoots up and presses down against my lips. He nearly picks me up and drags me toward the bushes by the front gate. “Shhhhh,” he whispers, putting me right in front of him and staring down into my eyes, watching me closely to make sure I’m not about to give us away.
I search his eyes, desperately listening for whatever it is he hears, when I finally hear the faint, hushed voices on the other side of the gate. “Two o’clock,” a woman murmurs, a strange familiarity to her tone but nothing that I can place in the dead of night.