Page 12 of Lawless Rivals

“Or maybe you came home because the pregnant wife found out. Maybe she threatened to blackmail your da about your coke addiction, bribe him for a big payout, so you ran. And when ya disappeared, well…”

I give a small shrug. “Everyone assumes the worst. Another spoiled rich girl who went off the rails.”

Her eyes flash, sharp with hate and humiliation. “You wouldn’t.”

“Doesn’t really matter which version people believe. I control the narrative now.”

Her face drains of color.

“And your da? He’d crawl over glass before he’d let the rumors ruin his high society image. That’s why he’ll sign. To save face.”

Fury tightens her pretty features in a way she can’t hide this time. “You’re a lowlife scumbag, Saint.”

I stop at the hatch, one hand on the frame. Streaming daylight slashes across her, lighting her up like a damn angel.

“Maybe,” I say. “But your father built his empire in the same way. You don’t know everything about your old man.”

She tugs the jacket tight to her chest. “I know he has morals.”

I meet her eyes across the distance, something hot and dangerous tightening in my chest.

“Don’t kid yourself,” I bite out. “He’s as ruthless as the rest of us. And deep down you’re just as bad. Your opinion of me is tarnished because of my name.”

“No,” she says, voice trembling as she stands her ground. “My opinion of you is based on fact.”

I smirk. “Fine. So aside from kidnapping ya… What do you really know about me?”

She rises to her bare feet, chin high, all pride and poison. “You’re a con man with a God complex.”

“God complex, huh?” I tilt my head, let the grin cut slow. “Then welcome to my church, princess. Because after the way you kissed me, you’re begging for worship. You just haven’t realized who ya have to pray to yet.”

I put my foot on the ladder. As I climb down, I glance over at the captive who’s wearing my jacket and mutter a curse.

Fuck, nothing good would come from being around her.

I’ll leave feeding her to someone else.

Chapter 4

Keira

I’ve sat on these bales, all alone, all day. I guess not having to see Saint’s face again has been the only blessing in this mess.

A heavy downpour batters the roof, and gale-force winds have the timber frame groaning.

Lying on my side, knees tucked to my chest, I think about Paris, the sunshine, and my time with Lucien.

Truth was, I knew the guy was a player. I understood exactly who he was. That didn’t stop me from pursuing a fun fling, until it wasn’t fun anymore.

However, during those months I was just Keira. And that suited me fine.

Now, I’m back to being a Harrington and enduring all that comes with the title.

My scalp prickles when I hear the ladders moving into position. A man appears, his upper half drenched and poking through the hatch, feet braced on the rungs.

Rain has plastered his wavy dark hair to his forehead, the wet tips grazing his thick black lashes. With his fine features and emerald eyes, he’d be pretty if it weren’t for the thick unshaven hairs on his jaw.

He doesn’t climb all the way in. Rather, he thuds a bowl on the loft floor and pushes it toward me.