The Princess (Filthy Trilogy 2)
Eric steps to my side and catches my fingers with his, his eyes alight with mischief. “I saw that painting and just had to have it.”
Because it reminds him of his enemy, his family, I think, even as he ironically says, “Now you meet my real family.”
Grayson.
He means Grayson.
He kisses my knuckles, something warm and yet turbulent in his stare as Savage steps around us and heads down the hallway. “Has he been here before?” I ask.
“Never,” Eric replies. “But he’s Savage. He’s—”
“Comfortable everywhere,” I say and we both laugh, it’s a light, welcome moment that carries us down the hallway with lighter steps.
“Come on,” he says, guiding me forward and it’s a short few feet before we pass an archway. I glance under it to find a long, black dining room table with a stunning painting of the jaguar on his arm behind it compelling me to stop and admire it, but I don’t. That’s for later, when we can talk about just how obsessed he is with the Kingston family. Because no matter what he claims, he is. There’s no way he’d have a jaguar, the competition’s icon, everywhere, if he wasn’t.
For now, I allow Eric to urge me past that room, following the voices that sound ahead of us until we clear
the walkway. I step into Eric’s open-concept living room that connects to a kitchen by way of a granite island; it’s a room of warm colors and masculine décor, with black leather furnishings, high-beamed ceilings and one wall that is nothing but windows. It fits him. I think maybe I do, too.
Savage and another man, one of the Walker team, I assume, are huddled up near a bar to the right of the kitchen. Two other men, both also casual in jeans and T-shirts, sit on the couch in deep conversation. Grayson is one of those men and he and the other man immediately stand and start walking toward us, joining us in a few short steps.
“What the hell are you doing here, Davis?” Eric demands, focusing on the “other” man.
“I’m your damn friend,” Davis replies, his cursed rebuttal a contrast to his refined good looks and chiseled features. “I know you forget that, asshole,” he snaps. “But I am.”
“I don’t have friends,” Eric quips back and the energy between them tells me that this is just who they are together. They push and pull. They fight. “Right, Davis? Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?”
“Well then,” Davis comments dryly, “I’m an enemy watching your fucking back.” He glances at me. “Sorry. He just pissed me off and the word ‘fuck’ summed up how I felt too well to miss the opportunity to use it. I’m Davis. A close friend, attorney, and confidant to Grayson.” He glances at Eric. “And you, asshole.”
Grayson smirks, amusement in his eyes. “They really are friends,” he assures me. “I promise you. And welcome back to New York, Harper.” He takes my hand and covers it with his other hand, warmth in his touch that is all about that welcome he just expressed. “I’m glad you came back with Eric.”
“Me, too,” I say, and when he releases me, I look at Eric and repeat the words, “Me, too,” and with good reason. These men are his friends. I want them to know that I’m one hundred percent on Eric’s side. I’m not a Kingston. I’m not a damn princess.
Eric touches my cheek, approval in his eyes before he glances at Grayson. “My father is on his way here.”
“I heard,” he confirms, “and I think we should talk about where that leads you.”
“Me, too,” I chime in again, squeezing Eric’s hand, but he doesn’t look at me.
“We’ll talk, all right,” he replies, his tone steel as he eyes Savage. “What do we know about my father’s trip?”
The group of us spread out and form a circle to the side of the couches, and Savage and the man he’s been talking with—a tall, dark-haired man with long hair tied at his nape, join us. “This is Blake,” Savage says indicating the other man. “One of the Walker brothers. That means one of my bosses. He’s also a world-class hacker. I’m not. I’m still just brute force me.”
“The one who hacked me to freedom,” I assume.
Blake’s attention shifts to me. “If you mean I got rid of the bank account that was created in your name, yes.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” I say.”
Blake gives me a nod and then focuses on Eric, getting right to business “We know your father had an argument with your brother at the warehouse before he booked his trip. When he left the warehouse, he called no one but his assistant, who booked his trip. He’s in the air now and hasn’t communicated with anyone in transit. At least not on a known device that we’re tracking. He could have burner phones or unregistered electronics.”
Eric eyes Savage and Blake. “Let’s step outside.” He doesn’t wait for their agreement. He starts walking, decisively, determined, as if he has a plan and he’s setting it in motion and that’s enough for me to decide this could be trouble. I can’t let this meeting happen before I talk to him. I don’t know Walker Security. I don’t know what they’ll do or agree to. I don’t know where Eric’s endgame lands him, or where his head is right now, but I know that I don’t want to find out the wrong way and too late to stop a disaster.
I dash forward and I place myself in front of Eric, planting my hands on his chest. “We need to talk before you say another word to anyone.”
His eyes narrow and glint hard. “Why?”
Because he blames his father for killing his mother and now for my attack. Because I think he’s secretly wanted to end that man for his entire life. He hates his father far too much for me to let him make any decisions tonight, when all those old wounds have been cut open to bleed anew.