The Princess (Filthy Trilogy 2)

“Good point,” I call out, giving Eric a “see” look.

Eric leans close. “But every bastard isn’t me, sweetheart.”

We share a look and in unison, we settle into our seats, our legs aligned and touching, our fingers laced together. There’s laughter between us but that rough exchange of minutes before hasn’t been forgotten. He was angry with his father but he was angry with me, too. He’d asked me how I’d been in this family for this long and failed to see what his family is capable of. Does he think I did and looked the other way?

“I did know,” I say, admitting the truth that I hadn’t even realized was the truth until now. I shift to look at Eric, to own my mistakes. “I pretended I didn’t know what this family was capable of because—I did. If I hadn’t, maybe we wouldn’t be here now. You wouldn’t have gotten pulled into this.”

His lips press together. “You didn’t pull me into this. They did. They just used you as the tool to make it happen. Had you been out of the picture, they’d have found another way. I should have never left myself exposed. I won’t again.” He cuts his stare and I can feel him shutting me out and I don’t know why.

“Together, remember?” I whisper.

That gets his attention. His eyes meet mine. “We are together.” Three words that seem simple, spoken with this absolute quality that should please me but there’s something unspoken there, too. Something not so simple, that I want to question, but Savage steals my chance.

“And we’re here,” he announces, pulling us to a stop in front of a building. “Alive and well despite the swampland of bad drivers.”

Just that quickly, my conversation with Eric about his father and the Kingstons is over, at least for now. The doors to the SUV open on all sides, as valets attend to our service and the cold air has me hugging myself. The minute I’m out of the vehicle, and under a canopy, Eric’s by my side, his arm wrapping around my shoulders, his big body warming mine as he introduces me to one of the doormen and then palms him a large tip. The man’s eyes go wide and Eric and I laugh, exchanging a look that staves off all remnants of the chill I’d felt only seconds before. It warms me all over. Together. That’s how we feel in this moment.

The doorman walks away, talking to Savage as Eric gives them his back, facing me, his fingers caressing my cheek, his touch both sandpaper and silk on my nerve endings. “Whatever you think is wrong right now, isn’t.” He kisses me soundly on the lips. “We’re good and we’re going to stay that way. That’s a promise.”

Before Eric can say another word, before I can reply to his promise, Savage is stepping between us. “Come to daddy, you two,” he says, holding out his arms. “Tips delivered. Keys handed off. Where do I get a good whiskey?” He eyes Eric. “Your home bar, right?”

Eric and I both laugh at this man’s outrageousness. “Yes,” Eric assures him. “At my home bar.” Eric drapes his arm around me as we enter the lobby of elegant white tiles and red cushioned chairs, to make our way to the elevators.

Once we’re inside the car, Eric leans on the wall and pulls me to him, my back to his front, his hands on my hips.

The floors tick by and Savage hums, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” when Halloween hasn’t even arrived, and despite him looking like the hot, but mean guy, who’d never even consider singing a Christmas carol. But I tune out Savage and his song. I’m thinking about how done I believe Eric is with this family. So am I. I am, but I haven’t suffered what he has. I don’t believe they killed someone close to me as he does of them with his mother. I haven’t lived his hell. I remember him denying this family was a part of him and then turning around and saying that he was done denying that he’s a Kingston. I hope like hell he doesn’t think that gives him a free pass to act like a Kingston considering the Kingstons just tried to kill me. Is that what he means by “end” his father? Does he intend to kill him? Does he believe he’s the one who ordered the hit on me and now he wants revenge?

I turn in Eric’s arms, my hands settling on his chest, and I search his handsome, unreadable face, trying to understand where his head is right now. He arches a brow but offers me nothing. I don’t find my answer, and I can’t demand one with Savage in the car, so I repeat his words, from just a few minutes ago. Whatever you think is wrong right now, isn’t. We’re good and we’re going to stay that way. That’s a promise.

He promised.

And promises don’t lie.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Harper

The elevator dings, the doors opening, and Savage exits first. When I would follow, Eric catches my arm and turns me to him, his hands coming down on my face. “Stop thinking yourself into a zoo with bars. I told you. We’re okay.”

“I know,” I say. “You promised.”

A flicker of understanding settles in his stare. “And you need to know that my promises mean something.” He doesn’t wait for me to reply. “They do.” He catches my hand with his. “I promise they will end, but we will not.” And with that statement, that only makes me more certain he’s going to do something we’ll both regret, he leads me into the hallway.

Savage is standing at the apartment door at the end of a long hallway. “I guess you can tell which one’s mine,” Eric says, casting me an amused look.

“He does have a way of getting his point across,” I contend.

“Yes, he does,” Eric agrees, and we quickly join the big goof of a man, that still makes it clear that he could kill you in two seconds flat.

“Heads up,” Savage says, as we join him and Eric reaches for his key. “Several members of my team are inside waiting.”

Eric eyes Savage over his shoulder. “You hacking my locks now, Savage? Because you know, if you hacked my locks I’ll have to kill you.”

“You’ll have to kill me another day,” Savage replies. “Grayson used his key.”

That announcement is a nugget of welcome information. Grayson is not only here, he’s close enough to Eric to have a key, and as a bonus, he’s a voice of reason and morality. I know this from Eric’s own admission. Grayson, who Eric also said grounded him and made him a better person, the person he likes to be. Grayson’s presence, I welcome. Eric opens the door and pulls me in front of him, his hands scorching my waist, as he leans in close to whisper. “Welcome to my home.”

In this moment, there is only me and him, and him and me. There is us and I can almost hear his wicked thoughts, and feel his hands on my body in places he’s not touching. Savage clears his throat, and Eric shoves the door open. I enter a narrow hallway with black hardwood beneath my feet, looking up to find a giant black-rimmed oval clock on my left, and a magnificent painting of a jaguar on the right.