The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(94)



Nathaniel King was dead.

That reality was almost impossible to wrap her head around. For all her thirty-two years, Nathaniel had loomed large over Houston. The King family was an institution that had been around for generations, all the way back to the founding of Houston itself, and Nathaniel was its favored son. It was that favoritism that caused his father to pass over Lydia for the CEO position. The unfairness of that call had driven her to cash out her shares and start her own company—Kingdom Corp—in direct competition with her family. Thirty years later, it didn’t matter what Samara had told Beckett, because that rift was nowhere near closing. Time might heal some wounds, but it only cemented Lydia’s ill will for the family that had cut her off when she wouldn’t play by their rules.

And now there was nothing left of that side of the family but Beckett.

He released Samara and took a step back, and then another. “Just go. Run back to your handler.” He let her get three steps before he said, “But make no mistake—this isn’t over.”

She wasn’t sure if he meant contesting the will or them, and she didn’t stick around to ask. Samara kept her head held high and the file clutched tightly in her grip as she took the elevator down to the main floor, walked out the doors, and strode two blocks down the humid Houston streets to Kingdom Corp headquarters. The only person lingering at this time in the evening was the security guard near the front door, and he barely looked up as she strode through the doors.

Another quick elevator ride, and she stepped out at the executive floor. Like the rest of the building, it was mostly deserted. Kingdom Corp employees worked long hours, but no one worked harder than Lydia King. She was there before the first person showed up, and she didn’t leave until long after they’d gone home. She was the reason the company had made unprecedented leaps in the last two decades. Samara admired the hell out of that fact.

“I have it.” She shut the door behind her and moved to set the papers on the desk.

“I appreciate you going. It’s a difficult time.” Lydia leaned forward and glanced over the paperwork. She didn’t look like she was grieving, for all that her brother had died in a terrible car accident two days ago. Her long golden hair was twisted up into a more sophisticated version of Samara’s updo and, despite a long day in the office, her white and gold color-blocked dress didn’t have a single wrinkle on it.

Samara glanced at the clock and resigned herself to another long night. “Is there anything I can do?”

Lydia smiled, her berry lipstick still in perfect condition. “How did my nephew look?”

“He’s in rough shape.” It wasn’t just the fact that he’d obviously dropped everything in Beijing and come directly home upon hearing the news of his father’s death. Everyone in Houston knew that the King men could barely be in the same building for more than a few days without clashing spectacularly, but that didn’t change the fact that Nathaniel was Beckett’s father, his last remaining parent, and now he was dead. “I was under the impression that they didn’t have much of a relationship.”

Lydia shrugged. “Family is complicated, my dear. Especially fathers.”

Years of building her defenses ensured that she didn’t flinch at the dig. “What’s the next move?”

But Lydia wasn’t through. She ran her hands over the papers almost reverently. “Was he upset when he found out about the villa?”

She pictured the look in Beckett’s dark eyes, something akin to panic. “Yes. He didn’t understand why Nathaniel would leave it to you.”

“He grew up there. We all did.” Lydia’s smile took on a softer edge. “Nathaniel and I were born there. So was Beckett. My children would have been if not for how things fell out.”

It was just a building, albeit a beautiful one. Samara didn’t understand the reverence in Lydia’s tone, or the pain Beckett obviously felt to lose it. Who cared about an old mansion on the outskirts of Houston—especially after the King family had essentially cut Lydia off when she wouldn’t dance to their tune?

Doesn’t matter if I get it. It’s important to Lydia, which means I have to plan on dealing with that damn house in the future.

She realized the silence had stretched on a little too long and tried for a smile. “That’s nice.”

“Oh, Samara.” Lydia laughed. “Don’t pretend I’m not boring you to death with my nostalgia. At least Nathaniel managed to do one thing right before he did us all the favor of dying.”

There she is. This was the Lydia that Samara knew, not the sentimental woman she’d just been talking to. “Nathaniel was handling the upcoming bid personally. With him gone, it will leave Beckett scrambling to catch up.” Her fingers tingled, and she clenched her fists. Excitement. Not guilt. I’m beyond guilt when it comes to men who have had everything handed to them from birth. Losing this contract won’t sink Beckett’s company, but it will damage it.

“Yes, well, don’t get cocky. This is important, Samara.”

“I won’t drop the ball.”

Lydia looked at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. Staring into those hazel eyes was like glimpsing a lion stalking through the tall grass. Samara was reasonably sure the danger wasn’t directed at her, but her heart still kicked in her chest. Finally, Lydia nodded. “I know you won’t let me down. Why don’t you get some rest? You need to hit the ground running tomorrow.”

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