Fierce King by Ivy Mason

One

I poundedmy fist against the door, annoyed as hell.

"Coulter,” I demanded, slamming my fist onto it one more time. "Time to go."

"One sec, man,” he called out, annoyance in his voice, then I heard him swear under his breath, “asshole."

There was a responding giggle and I rolled my eyes. Turning around, I strode through the hallway and down the stairs. Honestly, I was only warning him because Nero, as I'd taken to calling my father by his first name ever since the night Lily died, would kill Coulter if he was late.

Wasn't my concern. Not any longer. Coulter had been spoiled for way too long.

I strode out of the house and down the long driveway to where my fully restored 1968 Ferrari was parked, along with the fifty or so other cars my family owned. Engine rumbling, I raced out of the garage and down the driveway. Coulter was still shrugging on his tie and jacket as he ran out the front door, waving me down. Lucy, his regular escort, stumbled out after him on her stiletto heels and a barely there, Dsquared2 dress.

I flipped him the bird as I tore down the long driveway, leaving him in the dust, then grinned at his scowling face in the rearview mirror. It wasn't until I was through the front gate and driving towards the busy, downtown Vegas streets that my phone blared through my speakers.

“You asshole,” Coulter's angry voice ricocheted through the car.

"What do you want?”

"What I wanted was to not have to drive there myself."

“You should've been ready on time."

"Just give me the address.”

I heard his own 1964 Shelby Cobra start up. What could I say? The Kings were suckers for the classics.

Then there was Lucy’s annoying whiney voice, who thought it was cute to be pouty. “Hey, wait for me.”

"Get out." Coulter demanded, growling at her, and I sighed, hanging up.

Five minutes later, he called again. "Just give me the fucking address, Bourbon."

“Check your texts.”

“I'm not pulling over to scroll through Benny’s long ass text messages.”

"You could’ve ridden with me if you weren't too busy screwing around with Lucy. You know dad’ll kill us if we fuck this meeting up."

"You're such a prick." Coulter hung up on me, and I couldn't help but give myself a smug look as I turned off the freeway and made my way towards downtown.

When I finally pulled into the parking lot, Nero was just getting out of his car, passing his keys off to the valet. I came to a short stop next to him and jumped out, throwing my keys to the man who'd run so fast to meet me, that he was heaving loudly. He swallowed it down when I met his gaze, his throat bobbing as he gave me a respectful nod. "I'll keep it out front, sir."

I didn’t respond, turning my back on him to match Nero’s stride towards the front door.

"Where's your brother?” His demanding voice cut through the thick Nevada heat like a sharp knife. His face was a mask of cold but his eyes blazed with anger. Our father hated it when we were late, and he even hated it even more when he had to wait.

Today, especially, because we had to walk into the meeting together as a united front. No matter how much we fought and bickered behind closed doors, when we were in front of others, the Kings always presented a united front.

As much as I was annoyed by Coulter's constant disregard for his responsibilities, I still couldn't bring myself to feed him to the wolves.

"He got caught up in the Mueller meeting but he'll be here in a minute."

My father frowned. "Did he at least bend the bastards over?"

I nodded. "He closed the deal."

I was lying my ass off. I was the one who'd closed the deal with the Muellers. Then I'd gone all the way home to change into a fresh suit and to pick up Coulter's lazy ass, the ungrateful prick.

This meeting was one of the most important meetings of the year, possibly even my lifetime, and I’d been working on it for several months.

We were meeting with the Bratvas, who had been our enemies for several generations.

Then they started producing ozone, the hottest new drug to hit the streets. It was a party drug, and users were going crazy for the stuff.

We'd been losing business because our dealers couldn't get their hands on it, not without a negotiation between us and the Bratvas.

In return, the Bratvas were also motivated to broker a deal with us, because we owned the most strip clubs and bars in Vegas, and working with us would add millions to their business portfolio each month.

Today, we were sitting down for a truce.

Everyone wanted this deal, but working with the Russians was a pain in the ass. I swear, I didn’t know why they had such a ruthless reputation because they were the biggest prima donnas I'd ever met. I'd finally worked out all the details over the phone, and tonight was only a formality. We were to break bread with them, a hard rule they had, before a handshake on the deal.

After waiting for two minutes, Coulter finally pulled up into the parking lot, his car screeching to a stop next to us. He jumped out, flinging his keys to the valet and racing to meet us at the door.

He'd managed to get himself together in the car, his shirt tucked in tight, and his tie perfectly knotted at his throat. He looked so slick and put together, you wouldn’t know he had just been fucking his whore only minutes before.

"You're late!" my father barked out, and Coulter's angry gaze burned into me for a brief second before he turned to my father.

“I'm sorry, sir." He steeled himself, preparing to be berated in front of the guards and hotel staff surrounding us, knowing he would also receive a punishment in the privacy of our home.

"Don't do it again.” Nero’s deep scowl smoothed out, and I caught the surprise in Coulter's eyes before giving Nero a curt nod.

"Yes, sir."

"Bourbon told me you met with the Muellers. You got them to agree to the lower price?"

Coulter nodded, and his hand went to his pocket, where I was sure he was playing with his lighter, something he always did when he was nervous. One day he was going to set his pants on fire.

"Good.” Nero turned, striding through the front doors and leaving us behind. It was high praise from him, especially when it came to Coulter.

Coulter's hand snapped out, gripping my arm tight before I could follow my father.

We waited until the doors shut before Coulter ground out. "You could've just told me it was at the Palms."

I raised a shoulder before shrugging out of his grip. "You're not my responsibility, Coulter. Either be ready, or pay attention to the damn texts.”

"Or you could've just stopped the damn car. I was right there."

"You're welcome for saving your ass with dad,” I grumbled as I opened the door.

"I don't need you to save me anymore," he grunted in response, though I could tell by his tone that he was grateful for it.

"Clearly," I bit out sarcastically before walking through the door, shutting it in his face as I entered the hotel.