The Kingmaker (All the King's Men, #1)(60)

“Mister Cade,” I say, my tone brisk and businesslike.

He grimaces and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He takes a few steps forward until only inches separate us. And that tiny amount of space hums with memory and hunger, but I ignore it.

“Nix,” he says, his voice husky, rough. He reaches for my hand and I step back, warning him with a look to keep his damn hands off. With his eyes never leaving my face, he nods. “Is there somewhere we could talk? Maybe grab a coffee or something?”

“Sorry, Mister Cade.” I gesture to the half-open boxes overflowing with buttons, bumper stickers, signs and other campaign paraphernalia. “As you can see, we’re preparing to hit the trail.”

He grimaces. “I should have told you. If we can just go somewhere, I can explain.”

“Anything you have to say to me, you can say out here.”

The bell above the door heralds the entrance of two volunteers. Our scheduler sits on the floor nearby with a giant whiteboard and dry-erase markers.

“I really think we should discuss this in private,” he says, reaching for my hand again.

I cross my hands behind my back, out of reach, and just stare him down, wordlessly warning him.

“Alright.” He gives a careless shrug. “That night in the alley when we fuc—”

I clamp my hand over his mouth and drag him by the arm into the conference room. He closes the door behind us and leans against it, a smug smile on his disgustingly handsome face.

“I’m still not sure why you’re here, Mister Cade.”

“Would you stop calling me that?” He releases a frustrated breath and drags his hands through the hair that’s even longer than it was the last time I saw him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s what they were calling you on television. Did they get it wrong, too? What should I call you? Kingsman?” A humorless laugh spills out of me. “We both know that’s a lie.”

“It’s not a lie. All the men in my family have Kingsman as our middle name.”

“Your daddy, too?”

He stares at me for a moment before dropping his eyes to the floor. “Him, too, yeah. I should have told you about my family.”

“Oh, but you did.” I hop up on the conference room table and swing my legs back and forth. “You said your family was wealthy, but you didn’t have much money of your own.”

“True.”

“You said your brother was a senator.”

“He is.”

“You said you and your father were estranged.”

“Yes, we—”

“But somehow neglected to mention he’s the man I can’t stand. That you’ll inherit the company that trampled over the most sacred land my people still held.”

“I won’t. Inherit, I mean. I dedicated the last eight years of my life to researching climate change, Nix. Do you really think I want anything to do with my family’s oil company?”

“I don’t actually know what to think since you’ve misrepresented yourself to me this whole time.” I shake my head and force my lips into a waxy smile. “While all of us wondered what would happen after the protest, how long we’d be in jail, if the charges would stick, you knew you were guaranteed bail. Guaranteed freedom. Protection. Wrapped all cozy in your wealth. How you must have laughed at us.”

“I didn’t laugh.”

“But it was a game for you, one you played with absolutely no risk, while we risked everything.”

“It wasn’t a game. I saw you, I heard you, and it’s like I said before.” He takes a few steps closer until he’s mere inches from the table. “I knew I’d never forget you. When I saw those dogs headed straight for you . . .” He rubs the back of his neck and releases a harsh sigh. “I didn’t think twice. I left my father in the car and took off running. I just knew I had to . . . never mind. You won’t believe me. Just know it wasn’t a joke.”

“Every one of us was risking our reputation, our freedom, possibly our lives if things had escalated, and you acted like you had something to lose when Warren Cade would never let anything happen to his heir.”

“I told you we’re estranged.”

“Were you then? That day?”

“No. I tried to convince him not to go forward with the pipeline. When he refused to change his mind, I left.”

“You let me think you had come all the way from California specifically to protest with us. Was that true?”

His silence is thick with guilt and frustration.

“No,” he admits after a moment. “I’d flown in with my father. I didn’t know why we were there. Hearing what he had done and thinking I would never see any of you again, I didn’t see the point of saying who I was.”

“And in Amsterdam?” The words sour in my mouth. “The first night, could you have seen the point? Or maybe the second night before you fucked me? You could have mentioned who you were, but maybe you thought you wouldn’t tap this ass if I knew.”

“Nix—”

“And you were right. You wouldn’t have.”

“I won’t let you cheapen what we had.”

“I’m cheapening it? You told me because I had been so honest with you, you wanted to be completely open and honest with me.”