Ruthless Noble by Alley Ciz

CHAPTER 2

Holy fuck.

Married?

Samantha’s—

Wait! Hold up. Savvy? Her name is Savvy? Why is that name so familiar to me?

Shit!

Whatever the fuck her name is isn’t the point. The detail I need to focus all my attention on is that her mother wants her to get married?

TO. DUKE?

Yeah…not gonna happen.

Why do you care?

I ignore the question from my subconscious. I don’t…care. It’s just…

…

…

Fuck!I don’t know! But it’s not going to happen.

My heart is pounding, and there’s a thundering between my ears.

Duke’s eyes are double their normal size, his eyebrows winged up his forehead, his hands extended out by his sides like I had no idea, man.

Some may say the decision I made earlier to go against the Royals to claim Samantha—shit! I guess she’s Savvy?—as mine was a death wish. Whatever…I could handle that.

Going against my parents? That’s an entirely different scenario. Make no mistake, doing anything that could negatively affect Governor Delacourte’s political career would be considered an insult to my own parents. The business relationship Walter Noble has with Frank Delacourte is valued above anything else—a fact the side-eye he sends my way as they all take their leave tells me I need to remember.

Complicated just took on a whole new meaning.

Then I remember what other new piece of information I learned tonight.

Oh, fuck me sideways.

She has asthma.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

“Savvy, you need to relax before you make yourself sick,” Chuck commands. Every ounce of possessive, caveman-like rage drains out of me in an instant.

How long has it been since she needed to use her inhaler because of what we did in the bathroom? Ten minutes? Twenty? Can she use it again this soon?

Panic slams into me hard and fast. “Where’s your inhaler?”

“You know she has asthma?”

“She has asthma?”

“Must you make a scene?”

Chuck and Duke’s questions trip over each other, both shockingly confused on different ends of the spectrum. It’s the third one that really gets me, though, the one asked in a haughty tone I can’t believe anyone would voice, if not for the simple fact of Why would you? when a person is in the midst of a major medical episode, let alone for the asker to be the person’s mother. Is this woman for real?

For the first time…ever, I meet Chuck’s gaze over Samantha’s shaking shoulders without any of the derisive ridicule that generally simmers in my blood for him.

Sam—Savvy—fuck, I’m not sure what to call her—wobbles, my hold on her nape the only thing keeping her upright. I curl her into my chest, coasting my free hand down the length of her torso, fumbling with the soft material of her dress to find the opening of her pocket in search of her inhaler.

“Fuck this,” Chuck curses and pulls his phone out.

Duke moves in close for support. I slide him a thankful glance. I can’t even imagine what he might be feeling being the other half of this marriage equation we knew nothing about, but still, he manages to focus on what’s important. Unlike Natalie St. James, whose—

You know what? It doesn’t matter.

Chuck has his phone on speaker, and the tinny ringtone of the call he’s making cuts off with an amused, deep voice asking, “I can’t believe the bitch didn’t make you check your phone at her pretentious penthouse door.”

“Carter.” There’s a tinge of panic lacing Chuck’s tone, but that’s not what has me finally ripping my gaze from Sam—aaavvy to him.

Carter? As in Carter King?

“Why yes, let’s just add to the dramatics.” Natalie rolls her eyes, feeling free to be her true, terrible self now that most of her adult audience is gone.

“What’s wrong?” The abrupt change to Carter King’s speech could give a person whiplash.

“Tell me what to do when Savvy’s having an asthma attack.”

Puzzle pieces start to come together, but it’s not enough to form a clear picture. It’s like trying to put it together without having the box to look at for reference.

“Shit,” Carter curses, his voice fading slightly as he shouts, “Wes! Call Tessa. She’s at the St. James and knows what to do. Tell her she needs to get upstairs to the penthouse right fucking now.”

Tessa? The redhead? Why would he want her here? And why the hell did Chuck call King in the first place?

She’s not a race rat, my mind whispers, the thought floating right out as I finally feel the smooth cylindrical plastic of the inhaler.

“Natalie.” The boom of Carter’s voice as he returns his attention to the phone call has everyone—including a heavily breathing Savvy—looking toward the pinch-faced woman. “I don’t give a shit about any of your other failings as a parent—”

I swallow, darting my gaze from Natalie to Savvy to the phone lying on the flat of Chuck’s palm, to the man himself, and lastly to Duke, his eyebrows lifted the way mine are. We’ve heard the stories about Carter King. Most seem like general rumblings or overblown rumors that, while perhaps not believed by most, still end up having the power to cause people to heed them.

This? The dark danger simmering beneath the surface as he speaks? Maybe there’s more to his reputation than I ever gave him, or the Royals, credit for.

That might mean—

I shake that thought off before it can finish forming.

“—but so. Help. Me. God, if you don’t move your ass and make it possible for Tessa to get upstairs in the next two minutes, I will make you rue the day you ever gave birth to me.”

WHAT?!

HOLD ON.

FULL STOP.

Carter King is Natalie’s son?

That would mean…

“Oh fuck,” Duke whispers next to me, and I shit you not, even in these dire circumstances, the asshole chuckles the tiniest bit.

Sonofabitch.

She’s. His. Sister.

That’s why I thought I recognized her. I must have seen her at one of the races before this year. Carter and his crew typically congregate around the bonfire at the Royal Balls, and with her asthma, Saman—Savvy wouldn’t. Add in the age gap and the fact that I’ve only known her as Samantha St. James—how do you get Savvy from Samantha anyway?—and it was easy for me to not make the connection.

All those times people have cut themselves off when saying her name start to make sense. Samantha must be a fake name.

Her knowledge of how the hierarchy worked at Blackwell Public didn’t come from being a student there.

The Royals don’t care about her because she’s their favorite race rat.

She’s one of them.

Fuck my life.