Savage King (Broken Empire Duet Book 1) Read online

  At the full height of my climax, I whimpered his name, and when I came down from my high, I was gasping for air.

  “Fuck, that was hot.” Marco slid his fingers out of me, his movement so slow he hit another pleasure point that caused me to squeal. “Mmm… that was even hotter.” He stuck his fingers in his mouth to lick my juices from them. “Now that I’ve tasted you…” he said between sucking on his fingers, “… I’ll never get you out of my head. I thought I could stay away from you… I tried to keep my distance.”

  “I don’t want you to,” I confessed.

  “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

  After I moved my clothes back into place, he kissed me, a quick peck that was enough for me to taste a hint of myself on his tongue.

  I grabbed the charm hanging from the choker and rubbed it between my fingers, feeling the beveled edges of a feather. Without asking him, I knew its meaning. I was his raven, his pretty little bird he wanted to free from her cage. And this was his way of telling me I belonged to him. There was nothing I wanted more. If only it were that simple.

  Chapter Three

  SIENNA

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Sienna, happy birthday to you,” Ethan and Cara finished singing as I sat in front of my cake.

  My older brother, Ethan, sat on my left and Cara, my childhood nanny and mother figure, was on my right. They were the only people on earth who kept me going every day. Without them, I would be lost.

  A few members of the staff crowded around the table. Their hands rose to clap for the occasion and to wish me a happy birthday. This was the norm in our house. I was lucky enough to have my brother and the people my father paid here with me. They were my family more so than my parents.

  Ethan smacked a kiss on my cheek. “Happy birthday, Sienna. You’re an adult now. You can do anything you want. So, what’s it gonna be?”

  “Drink in a bar,” I countered.

  Cara kissed my other cheek and whispered, ‘Happy birthday, my love’ in Italian.

  I kissed her back. “Thanks, Cara.”

  “We can go to a bar if you want.” Ethan sat back in his chair, with his hands behind his head, waiting for the cake to be cut and served. “We can also hang out here. I have some vodka in the pool house and wine coolers if you want some girly shit.”

  I laughed and nudged him in the side. “I am a girl, silly.”

  My father was in Washington D.C. on business. He didn’t allow me to drink or do anything he didn’t approve of beforehand. He always had his spies in place, but I didn’t care. One drink wouldn’t kill me.

  “How about some champagne instead?”

  Ethan nodded. “Done. It’s your special day, birthday girl.” He looked behind my chair at Cara. “Do we have any champagne?”

  She pushed her chair out from the table and stood. “I’ll grab a few bottles.”

  I folded my hands on the long dining room table, which was large enough to seat twenty people comfortably, and glanced at Ethan. “How’s grad school?”

  “Awesome, one party after the next.”

  “You’re so lucky.” I sighed, wishing I could have the life Ethan was living in Cambridge at Harvard University, our father’s alma mater.

  He covered my hands with one of his and squeezed. “Only a few more months until you’re free of this place.”

  “I’ll never be free of Dad,” I countered, annoyed by the truth. “We both know he’ll have me watched like a hawk. He never lets me do anything fun.”

  He looked up at the ceiling and to the camera in the corner of the room. It was a tiny orb, almost invisible if you didn’t know where it was placed. My father had designed the security system in our house to blend in with the décor. But everyone who lived here knew where to look and the timing of each camera.

  I lived my entire life under a microscope, each portion of it analyzed and inspected as if my entire existence was a specimen in a science lab. Sometimes, I felt like a lab rat, locked inside my cage until the mad scientist decided I was allowed out to play. This house was a prison more than a home. It was as cold and uninviting as my family. The only thing that gave the old mansion warmth was the staff. I knew every one of their names and considered them friends, where my father didn’t even acknowledge they existed.

  Cara returned with two bottles of champagne, one in each hand. She set them on the table next to Ethan and ran into the kitchen to grab two glasses.

  “Aren’t you going to drink with us?”

  Cara gave me a confused look. “I’m still on duty.”

  “It’s my birthday. You don’t have to work.” I threw my hand out in the direction of the kitchen door behind her. “Get another glass and come sit with us. In fact, get one for everyone who’s working right now. They should be here for the toast Ethan’s about to give.”

  Ethan laughed. “A toast? Who said I was giving one?”

  “I did.” I smiled at him, and then rubbed my hand on top of his head, messing up his shaggy blond hair.

  He had our mother’s light hair and pale blue eyes, where I had our father’s dark complexion and hazel irises. We looked nothing alike, so different you couldn’t even tell we were related.

  Cara came back into the formal dining room with several glasses. A few members of the staff stood on the opposite side of the table from us with their hands behind their backs, lined up along the wall. My father made them wait in the same fashion while he ate. I hated how he treated them. Even with my parents out of the equation for the night, the fear was still there. He had this effect on everyone he encountered.

  Ethan opened a bottle of champagne. The cork made a loud pop that echoed off the vaulted ceilings. You could hear everything in this house. With the exception of throw rugs, we didn’t have a speck of carpet. Every step someone took on the tiled and hardwood floors were audible to anyone within hearing distance. I’d suspected my father preferred it this way, so there were no surprises.

  Ethan handed glasses to Cara and me and then raised his in the air. “My sister wanted me to give a speech for her birthday. I’m tempted to roast her, but she doesn’t have enough embarrassing moments for me to make fun of… not unless I count the time when she was eleven and—”

  “Don’t you dare,” I warned, pointing my finger at him.

  He stared around the room for a second until his eyes landed on me. “Ah, don’t worry, little sis, I won’t tell everyone your deep, dark secrets.”

  That was a joke. How could anyone have secrets in this family? I couldn’t even steal a candy bar from the kitchen without my father knowing.

  “Okay,” Ethan recouped. “In all seriousness, it’s my baby sister’s birthday. She’s acing all her classes and will graduate in the top of her class at Columbia. I couldn’t be more proud of her. Sienna is the best of us all and probably the smartest.” He covered the side of his mouth with his hand and laughed. “But don’t tell her that. We don’t want her to get a big head about it.”

  I stared up at him with a wide grin and mouthed ‘thank you.’ Ethan always knew how to make a shitty situation better. He was my rock, the one person I could talk to when I needed to vent. No one understood what it was like to be a York more than him. I was so happy our parents didn’t care enough to be here with us. They would have made the entire night suck.

  I clutched the feather charm between my fingers, feeling each ridge engraved into the gold. Marco remembered my birthday, made sure it was special for me. My heart slammed against my rib cage when I thought of him. He was my addiction, one I wanted to feed as often as possible.

  After we finished a piece of cake and a glass of champagne, Ethan dragged me outside. The chill in the air caused the hair on my arms to stand at attention. Even for this time of the year, it was freezing. Our property was located at the top of the hill, with a perfect view of the Long Island Sound from beyond the wrought iron fence, which spanned the perimeter. I could hear the water from a distance, waves hitting the rocks below us.

  We m
oved past the pool and to the small house behind it. To our right were living quarters for the staff, and to the left, the pool house where Ethan spent most of his time when he was home from school.

  Once inside, we plopped down on the plush couches. Ethan took a sip from the bottle of champagne and handed it to me. “Do you know what I did on my twenty-second birthday?”

  I raised my eyebrow at him. “If I remember correctly, you had friends over, got drunk, and then trashed the pool house. Oh, and you stepped on broken beer bottles you stole from Dad’s private stash, and the concierge doctor had to give you a few stitches.”

  He titled his head back and laughed. “It’s not a party worth talking about unless someone passes out or ends up in the hospital.”

  I shook my head at him, not amused. More like I was jealous that our father gave him such a long leash, when I was on constant lockdown.

  I raised the bottle in my hand and said, “To Dad not being here to ruin the night. He’s such a buzz kill.”

  “Why do you think I like it out here? No cameras and no one to watch me. I can do whatever the hell I want.”

  “Yeah, but you kind of need someone to look after you.”

  My brother had addiction problems, which stemmed from his underlying issue. Ethan was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when he was in his first year of college, explaining all the erratic behavior and mood swings. He’d dabbled in drugs and alcohol over the years to dull his condition. After his last stint in rehab, disguised as a vacation in the Hamptons, the doctor prescribed my brother medicine that seemed to be working. At least he was more docile than before.

  Ethan hopped up from the couch to lift a small box from the kitchen counter. The paper was bunched as if he’d gotten frustrated and balled it together long enough to slap a pound of tape and ribbon on it.

  I chuckled when he set it on the table in front of me. “You shouldn’t have.”

  Ethan smirked, stealing the bottle from my hand. “Open your present.”

  I laid the box in my lap and tugged at the ribbon holding the crazy mess together. My fingers slid beneath the seams of the paper. I couldn’t believe my eyes or the fact I was holding a pair of diamond and tanzanite flower drop earrings. My mouth opened wide in shock when I locked onto Ethan. “These cost a fortune. I can’t accept them.” I tried to give him the box, but he pushed it back to me.

  I dropped it onto the couch next to me and leaned over to give Ethan a hug. “Thank you. A real gift for once, not something a lady I don’t even know picked out for me. Dad’s presents are so depressing. They only remind me of how much he doesn’t care. But you do.” I released him from my strong grasp and sat back. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, big bro.”

  He smiled and made a fist that he knocked into my arm. It was a light tap that didn’t hurt. “Don’t mention it. This is a special occasion, and I wanted you to remember it for a good reason for a change. Dad gave me access to some of the money in my trust fund. Don’t worry about the price. They were on him.”

  We both laughed.

  So many birthdays were unsatisfying, sometimes ending with me crying or upset over something stupid my father did. But years of disappointment and being beaten down by life had made me tougher, more resilient to bad situations and crap holidays.

  I held my hand over my heart and sighed. “Ethan, this was so nice of you. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like them.”

  “How did you even know I was looking at them?”

  I set the box on the coffee table and curled up next to Ethan on the couch.

  He passed me what was left of the champagne. “How do you think?”

  I grunted in frustration. “From Dad spying on my Internet searches?”

  He nodded. “Sorry.”

  I yawned, sleep and alcohol taking over me. “It’s not your fault he’s a psycho.”

  My cell phone was monitored along with my computer. A member of my father’s personal security team tracked every single thing I did. The GPS on my phone gave them my location at all times. Once, I’d turned it off and had a swarm of men with guns show up at my friend’s house to collect me. That was the last time I saw Cary Frank. She was the last friend I’d attempted to have before my father paid her family off to keep her out of my life.

  The alcohol was getting to me, my mind a little fuzzy. I rested my head against the back of the couch and turned my head to look at Ethan. “What’s it like to be free?”

  “It’s nice being away from Dad.”

  “This place feels like a prison,” I confessed.

  “That’s why I had to leave. I couldn’t get better until I got away from all this.”

  He was referring to his mental illness. It wasn’t something we talked about often, but his outlook seemed to improve once he was at college.

  “I know Dad’s even harder on you, but it will get better.” Ethan patted my hand to comfort me. “At least it did for me. He seemed to lighten up more once I was out of his house.”

  Exhausted from the day I’d had, I closed my eyes and muttered, “I hope you’re right.”

  “Tired?”

  I yawned again, this time louder. “Yes.”

  He covered me with a blanket from the back of the couch and took the bottle from my hand. My eyelids were heavy, and as much as I fought sleep, the alcohol won.

  Chapter Four

  SIENNA

  IN THE MIDDLE of the night, a few hours after my birthday celebration had ended, I awoke to my father’s voice. He was yelling at Ethan for getting me drunk. I thought I was still on the couch in the pool house, but I was in my bed with no memory of how I’d gotten there. They were in the hallway, their foreheads almost touching with how close they stood. Ethan never backed down to my father, but he respected him for it. Whenever I tried the same thing, I paid for my retaliation.

  I sat up, about to tell them to be quiet, when Ethan fled down the stairs, and my father rushed into my bedroom.

  “Where did you get this?” He had something in his hand.

  I blinked the sleep from my eyes, trying to focus on the object. My hand fell to my neck. It was the choker from Marco. I didn’t remember taking it off, but I also didn’t recall how I’d found my way into the house. Ethan must’ve carried me. I never slept in my jewelry. Some part of my subconscious must have been awake enough to remove it before I crawled into bed.

  “I bought it for myself,” I lied. “For my birthday.” Holding out my palm, I added, “Can I have it back?”

  With some hesitation, he placed the heavy white gold necklace in my palm. I squeezed it between my fingers, feeling closer to Marco already. My father could never know who gave it to me. But I had no doubt he would check my credit card statement and determine I was lying to him. The charm was custom, something Marco would’ve had to order in advance. My father was no fool, but he didn’t push the subject.

  “I don’t approve of you getting drunk. Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean you can make stupid decisions that could jeopardize your future.”

  “A few glasses of champagne won’t kill me. Normal kids my age hang out with friends on Friday night… not with their butlers.” I rolled onto my side, tucking the choker inside my pillowcase to keep it safe. “Why aren’t you in D.C.?”

  He frowned. “I came home for your birthday.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes at him. The clock on my nightstand read two-thirty in the morning. “You missed it,” I informed him. “Tell Tanya thanks for the gift.”

  Covering my eyes with the pillow, I blocked out the light from the hallway. It was giving me a headache along with this conversation.

  “It was from your mother and me,” he growled.

  “Thanks,” I shot back.

  The card was written in Tanya, his secretary’s, handwriting. I hadn’t even opened the box she’d sent to the house. It was hidden in the back of my closet with all the things I didn’t want to deal with. If only I could stuff my dad in th
ere, too, right under the old pile of blankets.

  “Happy birthday, Sienna.” He said the words through gritted teeth.

  His anger caused me to smile against the pillow. I didn’t respond and kept my eyes closed, hoping he would leave. A beat passed before he finally got the hint I was tired and didn’t want to talk to him. He stomped out of my room, closing the door behind him. The silence was nice. I welcomed it.

  Before I dozed off again, I unzipped the protective case covering my pillow and made sure Marco’s necklace was secured inside. I couldn’t trust my father with it. The second he found out I didn’t buy myself a present I would be screwed. He would demand to know where it had come from. At least it was in a place where no one would find it.

  ON SUNDAY MORNING, my phone buzzed along my nightstand with a text message from Avery asking if I wanted to meet her at Strand Bookstore, a landmark in the East Village. The independent bookstore was a popular tourist attraction I hadn’t visited in years.

  I clutched the phone, my fingers hovered over the keyboard, about to type, when I considered what lie I would have to tell my father to get out of the house. He was still pissed about me drinking with Ethan on my birthday. Maybe I could sneak out without him seeing me.

  For a split second, I wondered if someone was staring at this message, waiting for me to reply. A chill crept up the back of my neck. I had no idea how fast a response time my father’s security team had when it came to intercepting my incoming calls and messages. I said a silent prayer it wasn’t immediate and typed out a quick message to let Avery know I would meet her there.

  I pushed myself up from the mattress and tugged my hair from the ponytail on top of my head. Before I set foot in the city, I needed a hot shower and some concealer for the dark circles under my eyes. Realizing I was about to have a girls’ day out, my excitement was so uncontainable I couldn’t stop smiling. My face hurt from how much I was doing it.