Page 77 of Vicious King

I lead my wife out, and she’s quiet as we walk to a bank of elevators. I press the up button, and when we’ve stepped inside, I turn her to face me.

“It’s okay, Sunshine.”

“I have a lot of guilt,” she confesses. “That I got away and Rose didn’t.”

“She’s fine now,” I remind her.

She walks into my arms and hugs me tight, pressing her face into my chest.

“Where are we going now?” she asks.

“To the penthouse. It’s time you saw it, and I haven’t been inside you in way too long.”

“I like this plan.”

Twenty-Three

RINA

When the elevator stops on the top floor, Carson takes my hand and leads me into a lobby area where two guards are stationed.

“This is my wife,” Carson tells the two men who are now at full attention. “She can come and go as she pleases, and you’ll follow her orders to the letter.”

“Yes, boss,” they each say as Carson presses his palm to a screen.

“Here, let’s get you set up,” he says and gestures for me to mimic him, pressing my own hand to the cool glass. A green light blinks, he taps in a sequence of numbers, the green light blinks once more, and he nods with satisfaction. “You just press your hand here, and you can get in here whenever you want. You have full access to anything in the building, including the basement where my private gym is.”

He opens the door for us and gestures for me to step inside.

“But there’s a portion of the basement that you don’t have access to. Only my brothers and I do.”

I nod. I know what’s down there.

“Thank you.”

I pause in the living area and gaze around the space. When I was taken, this had been demolished down to the studs.

Now, it’s a gorgeous penthouse.

And it’s absolutely nothing like our house.

Where the mansion is homey, filled with warmth and cozy furniture, this is modern and dare I say, cold.

It’s beautiful. Everything from the brown leather furniture to the glass tables and pretty rugs scream money. But there’s no life here. There’s nothing that indicates that anyone actually lives here. It looks staged.

I’m wandering through, dragging my fingertips over the back of the couch that doesn’t look like it’s ever been sat in, as I make my way to the windows that look out onto the Strip.

“What are you thinking, Sunshine?” Carson asks as he walks up behind me and wraps his arms around me, pulling me to him.

“Did you actually live here?”

He presses his lips to my head. “I existed here,” he confesses. “Come on, you can see the rest.”

He takes my hand and shows me the kitchen—all black appliances and cement countertops. It definitely looks like it could be in a magazine, but it’s not at all what we designed together.

“I couldn’t live in the beautiful penthouse you drew up with the designer,” Carson admits, as if he can read my mind. “I couldn’t do it, Ree. I made her start from scratch and make it as different as possible.”

I blink back tears. “I get it. I wouldn’t have been able to do it either.”