White Rabbit: The Rise (The Kingmaker Saga Book 1) Page 9

  “It’s time for you to leave,” the one on the right said, his eyes narrowed even as he reached to grasp her upper arm.

  Karina was all but ready to snatch her arm out of his hold and move out of reach, but Uilleam’s hand was suddenly on the man’s wrist, applying enough pressure that the man grunted.

  “Remove your hand or lose it.”

  The words were spoken carefully, though even she could hear the thick layer of steel surrounding the command. And despite his casual tone, the room seemed to fall silent around them.

  As if his threat had been heard by them all.

  The youngest man in the room … yet he held the most power.

  Uilleam Runehart was a different breed of animal.

  Though it was clear the man, who had quickly let her go, was employed by Paxton—his company’s logo was stitched on the pocket of his suit jacket—Uilleam didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

  But the man didn’t, not even for a second, take his eyes off Uilleam.

  “I’m just following—”

  “Move,” Uilleam said, this threat more clear. “Or I’ll have you moved.”

  Without another word, the security guard took a step back, his companion right beside him—who still had yet to speak a single word.

  “I don’t believe you understand the magnitude of this game you seem intent on playing with me, Karina Ashworth,” Uilleam said after a moment, turning his eyes back to her.

  “All the same,” she said in return, taking her own step back, feeling as if the rest of the world was finally filtering back in now that his hands had fallen off of her. “I look forward to playing it with you.”

  And as she risked one last glance back in his direction, she saw it.

  The thrill.

  Excitement.

  He was looking forward to it too.

  9

  Curiouser & Curiouser

  If anyone asked why Uilleam was there, he would blame it on Paxton.

  Research, he would say.

  But he knew it wasn’t nearly as simple as that.

  Because Karina Ashworth was proving to be a puzzle wrapped in mystery with a smile he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to erase from his mind.

  He saw that smile when he closed his eyes at night, haunting the few hours of sleep he was able to get.

  He saw it when he should have been working or at least focusing on other important matters—like the fact she seemed quite determined to become a thorn in his side.

  It didn’t matter that almost all of New York had moved on from the woman’s death and Paxton’s merger had finally been completed successfully.

  She was still there.

  Waiting.

  Lingering.

  Remaining inconspicuous while also digging for as much of the truth as she could get.

  Something had told him, that night at the party, she hadn’t come solely for Paxton. He saw it in the way her gaze had skirted over him more than a few times, and beyond a look of disdain, she didn’t seem affected by his presence at all.

  No, she had been searching for someone.

  Him, he’d come to realize.

  The part of him that his father had stoked with fire and hatred had been screaming for him to remain in the shadows—to observe her from afar and use whatever he gleaned against her.

  But the man in him had had other ideas.

  Because beyond the grainy image used on her profile for the paper, he hadn’t expected to see someone that looked like her.

  Even on the screens in the back control room at the fundraiser, he had only caught glimpses of her on the camera. She eased her way around the room, managing to blend in with the others around her while still standing out.

  He’d noticed her immediately.

  All because of the white dress she wore, the color of freshly fallen snow, clinging to generous curves that had had his hands curling into fists.

  But while she might have been all but invisible to the others, she was a keen observer. He had watched her gaze skim over everyone in the room. As he had done on dozens of occasions.

  He’d found himself wanting to delve into her mind in that moment.

  To see how she saw the world.

  Would it look like his?

  How had the sheep below not noticed a wolf among them?

  And when he did finally decide to sate his curiosity and see if the woman was as interesting as the idea he had of her, he certainly hadn’t anticipated what happened next.

  The way her dark hair was swept back into a charming bun, wisps of it framing a heart-shaped face, and eyes had pierced right through him. When she’d finally looked up at him, it wasn’t with surprise. There had been a knowing gleam to those dark brown eyes of her—as if she knew him already.

  She had smiled when she saw him.

  Not afraid.

  Not nervous.

  She’d been expecting him.

  Karina Ashworth, who was turning out to be his not so innocent journalist.

  A woman who was quickly becoming a delightful problem.

  She wasn’t doing what he expected of her.

  She wasn’t backing off because of Paxton or the lawyers. She hadn’t walked away, though he had wanted her to.

  She couldn’t stop. Like him

  She was too stubborn. Foolish.

  Fucking enthralling.

  That had only made the desire to learn more about her all the more pressing.

  Which was how he found himself in the back of the black Suburban, peering out at the brick building that housed her apartment.

  For a woman on her salary, he thought she would try to move as close to Manhattan as possible or at least live where there was a proper doorman.

  This building was a bit run-down, built decades ago—which was also the last time the exterior had been properly cleaned, he imagined. Though, he shouldn’t have had an opinion on anything to do with her.

  His work here in New York was all but finished, yet he found himself lingering—paying for another month at his hotel. Even retaining Skorpion’s services for a while longer, though there was really no need.

  For once in his life, he was a man obsessed.

  For days, he had watched her—or maybe it had been longer now?—learning everything he could.

  He wanted to understand her interest in this—why she refused to give up despite being given ample reason to. She had written a number of articles for him to read, some fluff pieces that seemed to signal the start of her career at The Gazette Post.

  But as time went on, not only did the subject change, but also her style of writing. The elegant prose, the inquisitiveness of her tone through her words that made even him question whether what he knew was the truth or if it was what someone wanted him to think.

  It also made sense why Paxton had thought to shut her up with lawyers. It was better to silence a voice like hers before too much power got behind it.

  She wrote about the victims.

  Sure, she took a moment to name the guilty and place her scorn on them, but she always talked more about the person who was hurt. About their lives and hopes and dreams. She made them human again.

  Especially the victims of powerful men.

  He wondered whether she had suffered at the hands of one, and if she had, where were they now?

  All the same, he could have sent Skorpion in his place—he quite imagined she would be looking for him rather than his mercenary—and should have. He had opened his mouth, all but ready to do it, then he hesitated.

  Hesitated because he wanted to make his own observations.

  Learn about her himself.

  On the first day, he’d trailed her for hours, taking note of the places she went—stowing it all away with the other bits he knew. The food she liked to eat. Her favorite shops, though he rarely saw her buy anything when she did go in them.

  Now, he could see her in her living room through the window. In the kitchen, though, he could only see brief passes of her fro
m his vantage point.

  For quite a long while, he remained there, watching as she made dinner before lounging on her couch. Stared as she sat on the lone couch in the apartment and turned on the television.

  He remained until he saw her fall asleep right there before finally driving back to his hotel.

  One day had turned into two, and now he wasn’t sure where he was.

  “She’s like a fucking saint for the innocent,” Skorpion had muttered the first day he’d driven him around after reading over her articles as he had.

  Uilleam agreed, though he didn’t say as much.

  “What’s your interest in her anyway?” Skorpion rightly asked, glancing at the time on the dashboard of the SUV.

  He had no business making repeated trips out here, risking anyone catching him unaware or her noticing a strange vehicle following her home, but he dismissed the idea just as quickly.

  If she was anything like he thought she was, she wouldn’t mind his light stalking. She would try to use it against him.

  He waved for Skorpion to pull off, but not before he forced himself to answer his question with the only answer he could give. “I don’t know.”

  10

  The Games Begin

  Nothing.

  Not a single message of any sort despite the moment they had shared at the fundraiser. It was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth again, and she didn’t even know where to begin to search for him.

  Which was another reminder that he was still a walking mystery. Sure, she had seen more of him in the past few weeks than in the numerous months she had spent trying to figure out who he was and what he did, yet she still didn’t know how to find him.

  Not that she should, despite the desire she felt. What did it matter if she hadn’t spoken to him? It didn’t change what needed to be done—and even if it did, it should have been fine just knowing he was out there somewhere.

  She had spent twenty-odd years never even knowing he existed. Surely, it couldn’t be hard to forget a man she didn’t actually know.

  At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

  Hopefully, one day she would get back to a life when she wasn’t constantly thinking about him. About his smile and the way it lit up his face. Or the careful, deliberate way he moved that had made her want to follow him with her gaze.

  She was eager for the time when he wasn’t such a mystery and she didn’t feel the spark that had yet to dissipate.

  Though she had thought their moment together would spark another run in, she was mistaken.

  One day quickly turned into six, and six turned into ten, and when she woke up this morning, Karina had finally settled on the fact that that night would be the only time she crossed paths with him.

  It didn’t helped that Orion had told her just how rare it was for Uilleam to spend more than a handful of minutes with any one person when he was in a crowd—a way to ensure no one thought they held his favor. A fact that made her ask just how much did he know about the man and why wasn’t he sharing more with her?

  If anything, their brief encounter had only made her curiosity more rampant. And no matter that she knew it was a bad idea—especially one Orion wouldn’t approve of—she found herself asking questions, digging into secrets and more rumors than was probably safe.

  But some part of her had let go of that careful caution she usually implemented when she was on assignment.

  Figuring she just needed a change of scenery, she pushed her laptop aside and shoved the covers off her legs, stripping out of her clothes once she reached her closet. Though she spent the majority of her time inside this apartment writing, and she rather liked it this way, sometimes she needed to get out of her own head.

  Experience and soak in everything around her.

  So she dressed quickly in jeans and a tank, then grabbed her favorite jacket and left her apartment in search of a coffee shop.

  Two birds, one stone.

  The quickest and easiest way to both get her mind off the ever revolving circle she found herself in, as well as a chance to recharge with a nice cup of coffee.

  Coffee, then work again and finally, a night off where she and Samantha would finally hang out.

  A night to herself..

  She deserved it.

  Even before they stepped onto the curb, Karina was sure she could feel the vibrations from the bass bleeding through the brick building to her left.

  She had never heard of this particular place when Samantha suggested it—this would be her first time going to a club whatsoever, though she didn’t bother to mention that—a couple of weeks ago, but she seemed to be the only one.

  The line extended past the double frosted doors at the entrance and wrapped itself around the side of the building. A wide variety of people stood waiting to get in: women in glittery, short dresses and heels to match; some men in suits, others in casual wear, and everything in between.

  Karina was ready to walk to the back of the line before Samantha snagged her hand and tugged her toward the front where a man with a clipboard stood with a coiled wire earpiece tucked behind his ear.

  “Johnny owed me a favor,” she explained with a smile that explained all too well that Karina probably didn’t need to ask why he owed her a favor.

  It felt like seconds between their standing outside and having their IDs checked after making sure their names were on the list to being inside the long hallway that pulsed with red light as music played, but it wasn’t until they reached the open balcony and she got her first glimpse of what the club had to offer did she finally pause and absorb everything around her.

  Bottle girls in tailored pants and heels drifted through the crowds of writhing bodies, carting champagne bottles with sparklers shooting out the top. The atmosphere almost felt electric with energy.

  For once in her life, Karina felt her age.

  From the time she was a little girl, her mother had taught her about being responsible. How never to step outside of the lines or deviate from the correct path because they would result in failure.

  And failure was not an option.

  Her mother would consider her time spent here as a frivolous pastime that served as nothing more than a hindrance from work.

  Karina saw … freedom.

  Ease.

  A distraction.

  Something she had never allowed herself to think about before now.

  The most she had ever stepped outside of her mother’s lines and what she wanted for her was asking if she could come here, to New York, and live as someone—anyone.

  How else, she had argued, would she learn what she really wanted if she immediately joined the family business without experiencing anything.

  She wanted to see what she was made of outside her family.

  And for more than a year now, she had been doing just that, so she deserved this.

  She’d earned it.

  Following Samantha down the winding stairs, she tucked her hair behind her ears, feeling more nervous than she should.

  It was almost funny how she was comfortable in the office or questioning people to learn their secrets, but something as simple as walking through a crowded dance floor made her anxious.

  After a bit of careful shuffling and quiet apologies, Karina finally made it to the bar in the center of the floor, the wall of liquor backlit in neon blue. She had only just started reading the night’s drink specials when Samantha appeared beside her and raised her hand to get the bartender’s attention.

  “Four shots of tequila, please!” She looked at Karina then. “You drink tequila, right?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve never had it.”

  Samantha made a funny face as if she couldn’t fathom how Karina had made it this long without drinking that.

  She didn’t want to explain that Katherine Ashworth was a wine drinker and refused anything else, and she expected her daughters to do the same.

  But tonight wasn’t about her mother or her e
xpectations.

  Four shot glasses were set in front of them, all polished to a gleam, then the bartender filled them to the brim with clear liquor.

  Samantha was all too excited to grab her first with one hand and a slice of lime with the other. Karina followed suit, though briefly wondering how, exactly, she was supposed to swallow it all down in one go.

  “Cheers to another week,” she said over the pounding music, tossing her drink back and swallowing it down before sucking on the lime.

  Karina followed suit, though she was a touch more clumsy as she tasted the alcohol and nearly gagged. It was like swallowing gasoline that burned all the way down her throat before settling heavily in her stomach.

  The taste of the lime was only mildly better, but that didn’t stop her from reaching for the next glass and drinking that one too.

  Before she knew it, she was smiling, the rush of adrenaline and tequila making everything fuzzy around the edges.

  So this was what it was like to feel buzzed. For everything to be slightly off-kilter and a little brighter and a little louder.

  It was easy, she thought, a little tipsy, to get lost in this life—to be … normal.

  No expectations.

  No doubts.

  Just living everyday in the moment.

  The next time she had a drink in her hand, this one in a taller glass with sugared fruit and a straw inside, she took her time drinking it, already guessing that her limit for alcohol was much less than Samantha’s.

  Already she could feel herself swaying to the music, her eyes briefly sliding shut as she drifted into her own world and got lost.

  Later, she wouldn’t recall what it was that made her open her eyes and look toward the shift of shadows on the roped-off balcony above her on the other side of the room. From where she stood, it was hard to make out much beyond the furniture and bodies blocking whatever was on the other side, but then she caught a glimpse.