King of Depravity: Chapter 9

Her alarm goes off at a ridiculously early hour considering how late we were up and how interrupted the night’s sleep was.

She crawls over me to turn off the beeping and then remains on my chest, curled on top of me.

I wrap my arms around her, closing my eyes again. “Getting up is a shitty idea,” I murmur into her hair, which is cascading over my shoulder onto the pillow.

“I told you, it’s the only chance I have to paint.”

“New idea.” I slide a hand down her back, settling it just above her ass. “We go get your stuff at the last possible moment you can enter the studio and then you paint as long as you want at my place.” I’d like to watch her work.

I know it’s a very flawed plan. I went to bed claiming this was just going to be an exchange of sexual favors, but Chloe is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I just want to look at her for a while.

I can picture her barefoot and in a messy bun with paint splattered all over the epoxy cement floors in my loft.

“I can’t do that,” she murmurs into my chest and then starts to push herself up and off me.

I tighten my arms. “Why not?”

“Because,” she sighs. “You’re my stalker. I can’t go hanging out at your place. That’s just wrong.”

I don’t release her. “It would make the stalking much easier if you did.”

She gives a sleepy chuckle but settles back on my chest. “We both know I haven’t been a challenge at all. In terms of the stalking…”

“No. But you’ve been the most fun.”

She lifts her head then, her eyes narrowed into slits. “Do you stalk a lot of women?”

I hadn’t been expecting jealousy, and I’ve got to be honest, I fucking love it. I shift her so that her stomach is flat on mine, her legs falling to either side of my hips.

She’s warm and so soft. Reaching for her cheek, I don’t tell her this week is full of firsts for me too. Instead, I kiss her with the lazy gentleness six in the morning deserves. “No. I don’t. And also, just so you know, you’re the only woman I’ve ever invited to my place.”

“Oh,” her eyes go wide as her cheeks flush with this bronzing pink that’s gorgeous. “Really?”

“So I’ll be crushed if you don’t accept.”

“I have a hard time believing that anything could crush you.” But she’s settling back on my chest, getting comfy. “My studio time ends at nine, I have to pick up supplies before then or someone else will be in the room.”

“Done,” I close my eyes, tracing her hips with my hands. She’s still naked and it’s a very pleasant way to wake up, even if I have only gotten a few hours of sleep.

I feel her fall back to sleep right on my chest, her hands resting on my biceps. I look down. I love the way her hands look on any part of my body. I’m covered in tattoos and muscles and she’s this complete contrast to me.

With my other hand, I gather up her hair, but I don’t pull, I gently lay it over my chest, then run my hand down the silky length. Then I pull the covers up over her, tucking her in so she’s warm and comfortable.

I can’t remember another time I felt this…still.

No dark emotions pulsing through me, just contentment. I close my eyes, relaxing back into the bed.

That’s when a knock sounds on the door.

“Chloe?” a female calls out.

I open my eyes again, rumbling a protest. Her hands flutter down my arms in this soothing stroke. “Yeah, Daff?”

“Can I borrow your curling iron?”

“Do any of you people sleep?” I ask even as the door swings open.

A girl appears in the doorway, her eyes going wide. “Oh sorry, I didn’t realize you still had company.”

“The curling iron is on the bureau,” Chloe says, not opening her eyes.

Daff’s eyes are all over us as I pull the covers tighter around Chloe. “How long have the two of you been seeing each other?”

“Not long,” Chloe answers in that sleepy voice.

“I’m just surprised,” Daff says, curling iron in hand. “You never date and⁠—”

“Not now, Daff,” I rumble out with a healthy glare. Daff’s eyes get really big and then she scrambles out of the room. The second the door closes, I say, loud enough for Daff to hear. “You’ve got too many roommates.”

“Trust me, I know,” Chloe answers, rubbing her nose against my pec. “But this is honestly the best I could afford. My last place, I didn’t even have my own room.”

Chloe falls back to sleep, but I’m wide awake now. I just watch her sleep, wondering when I became the guy who enjoys listening to her breathe.

She wakes an hour later, and we take a quick shower, where I touch as much of her as possible, and then we’re back in her room to get dressed.

Which is when I realize I ripped my shirt in half last night. With a laugh, she goes out to the kitchen and returns with two chip clips. Turning the shirt backwards, she clips it on my body. I look into the mirror, the garment even more fitted for being clipped and I wink at her in the reflection. “I look good, right?”

“You are too much,” she rolls her eyes as we head off to the studio.

Chloe’s painting stuff fits into a small cubby, a roll of brushes and seven or eight tubes of oil paint. She does grab an easel, which I take from her, and a canvas that’s about a three-foot square that she can just tuck under her arm.

“You’re not already working on something?” I ask her, thinking of the paintings I saw in her room.

She shrugs. “I’ve got a new idea.”

With all the stuff under our arms, I open my Uber app and request a car. Within fifteen minutes, we reach my loft.

I’m not really much for furniture so the space is pretty open, a few stools at the island, a big couch, a big bed. The place is west-facing with floor-to-ceiling windows and a wide-open view of the Las Vegas skyline.

I’m not really a fan of Vegas, I liked London better. But Vegas is good for a guy like me. So much shit goes down here and it’s so transient with tourists coming in and out, it’s an easy city to hide any shit.

Chloe sets up the easel near the windows, placing the canvas on the stand, and then squirts some paint onto a palette.

Her eyes lift to mine as I lounge back on the couch. “Mind taking off your shirt?”

My brows lift. I never mind taking off my clothes and so I shrug off the T-shirt, the chip clips flying as I do.

Then I settle back, my arms spread wide on the back of the couch. “Mind telling me why?”

She slips off her little sneakers and pulls off her socks. Today she’s wearing a pair of Kelly green leggings with a multicolored tank top, her hair piled on top of her head in this sexy messy bun that makes me want to do all kinds of dirty things.

She’s got this playful smile on her lips as she pads across the concrete floor, coming toward me. Then she leans over, her fingers tracing the edges of the massive tattoo on my chest. “Is it the Milky Way?”

“Yeah,” I answer. I don’t tell her that each star I add to the outer edges represents a life I’ve taken. I don’t want to touch that darkness today, it’s too happy being here with her.

But she seems to zero in on them, tracing several of them with her finger. “What does it mean?”

I shrug. “I just like it.”

She cocks her head, sliding her hand over her skin. “No bigger meaning?”

A muscle in my cheek twitches. “I think the stars are like people. Billions of them…” I don’t tell her about how I’m not a star, I’m a black hole, or how my own family⁠—

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” she whispers, “I can see your light dimming, so I won’t ask again.”

I look at her then, confusion drawing my brows together. “What do you mean, my light dimming?”

“The light in your eyes is dying again,” she answers, removing her hand from my skin. But then she leans over and softly kisses my forehead before she turns back and walks back to her canvas, my gaze on her ass as she goes. I relax again as she picks up the palette, staring at the blank canvas,

Then, dipping her paint brush in multiple colors, she starts painting. She’s facing me so I can’t see what she paints, but just watching her body move, the way she concentrates, furrows her brow, starts again, it’s mesmerizing.

I have no idea how long I’ve just been sitting, watching her work, I’ve lost all sense of time when my doorbell buzzes.

It jars me out of the trance I’ve been in, and for a second I just glare at the offending door before I push off the couch, and go to answer it.

Triston stands on the other side. “What the fuck?” I ask as I open the door.

He glares back. “What the fuck? You’re asking me that? You haven’t answered your phone in hours. You weren’t home last night.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I came to talk to you,” he says as he pushes through the door. “You can’t go that long without answering, I thought you were—Chloe.”

He turns to me, his brows rising up his forehead.

Chloe’s got a paint brush sticking out of her messy bun, her eyes focused on the canvas, as she bends over in her bare feet and tank top. “Hey, Triston. Nice to see you again.”

He looks between me and her, noting my shirtless chest and her bare feet. “I’m just curious, yesterday you intimated that my brother was—erm—following you?”

“Yeah. This is a lot less work for both of us,” she answers without taking her eyes from her work.

But her words make me laugh as Triston’s hands come up to either side of his chest, palms up as his mouth falls open.

“She needs good light and space to work, and I’ve got both,” I supply. I was enjoying the quiet of watching her work, so I cross my arms. “You’ve confirmed I’m alive. Is there anything else, Tris?”

He nods in the affirmative and starts walking toward my office space. That’s the thing about having a brother who is the boss. He’s fucking bossy everywhere. I follow as Chloe’s eyes flick to mine, a question in them, but I only wink.

Once we’re in my office space, which only has one chair, Triston closes the door. I slide into the only seat, asserting my dominance in my own space. Nonplussed, he sits on my desk. “What’s going on with you and Chloe?”

“None of your business,” I answer. “Why don’t you get to the point.”

“That is my point. You don’t date. As far as I’m aware, you don’t even hook up with women. At least you haven’t for a long time.”

I shrug, debating telling my brother to fuck off. “Like I said, she’s got a nice ass.”

“She does, sure, but lots of girls with nice asses have tried to get you in bed. You usually just scare them off.”

“She’s tough to scare off and she isn’t trying to get me in bed. If anything…”

“Hard to get,” Triston nods. “I get that.”

No. He doesn’t. He has no idea what it feels like to know you are born of darkness. And what I’m starting to understand, is that Chloe knows about the dark. “Look, it’s not serious. I’m not the serious type.”

Triston looks me up and down, his mouth turning down. “Maybe.”

“I’m a fucking assassin, Triston. This…” I point at myself, “is not long-term material.”

“Does she know you’re an assassin?” Triston asks, leaning forward.

And that’s when I understand. I know loads of secrets that my family would be worried I’d divulge. My hands are the dirty ones, but the filth covers us all. “Of course not.”

He nods. “Good. Now tell me what’s going on with the Russians. Or maybe tell me why you haven’t told me you’ve been spying on the Russians.”

“I was going to tell you when you needed to know. I’m just gathering information for now. Learning where they live, where they do drops, have meetings. I know they’re tentative partners with our new in-laws, the Kincaids. But that partnership is tenuous at best. Information will help us no matter how events play out.”

Triston scrubs at his jaw. “Jesus, Killian, that’s impressive even for you. No one is as good at this as you,” he mutters.

I appreciate the compliment. Usually, I think my brothers barely tolerate me. But even the compliment lands flat. I’m different. We all know it. “I was born into it.”

“We were all born the same,” he returns, giving me an odd look.

I don’t correct him, but we weren’t. Pushing up from my seat, I say, “The Russians are planning some move. There have been a lot of meetings, I’ve seen a few of those Italian fucks in and out of the piano bar. You might want to use your connections to see if anything legal is happening, while I keep exploring the illegal side of their relationship.”

Triston jerks his chin. “You got it. Good job.” He stands, crossing to the door. But he stops. “That Alexander is circling Chloe pretty tightly. If you plan on keeping her around for a while, you might want to remove her from the bar to keep things cordial with the Bratva fucks.”

My brother isn’t wrong, but that is going to be tricky. Still, I’ve got a few ideas. “You know that club the Kincaids own, you think they’d hire Chloe?”

“Temptation?” he asks.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Leo would be lucky to have Chloe on staff, I’ve seen her at work, she’s a fantastic waitress, and the tips there would be even better than where she works now. I’ll talk to Leo today.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll reach out tonight with anything I learn about the Russians.”

We both head out of the office, stopping to watch Chloe, who is so focused, she doesn’t even notice that we’ve come back into the open kitchen and living space.

Triston is assessing Chloe as she nips at her lip, her brush working over the canvas. “Be careful,” Triston eyes her warily. “She was dangerous when she was accusing you of following her, but with her in your life like this, she has the power to undo us all.”

“I know my business.” I glare at him. I might be crazy. But I’m not stupid. Then again, I’m starting to wonder what I’d trade to keep her in my life.