Wicked Royals: Ruthless Rulers Prequel Read online

  Wicked Royals

  Ruthless Rulers Prequel

  Stella Hart

  Copyright © 2019 by Stella Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  2. Willow

  3. Willow

  4. Logan

  5. Willow

  More Information

  1

  December 14th, 1997

  Washington, D.C.

  White House Tunnels

  * * *

  Stephen’s footsteps echoed in the damp air as the bright beam of his flashlight shined over the rough stony walls and concrete floor, marking out a steady path ahead. There were usually candles or burning torches lining the walls down here, but the afternoon’s heavy winds had blown through and extinguished most of them. Stephen had guessed it might be like this and brought the flashlight just in case. Without it, he’d be wandering blindly in the dark, and on a day like today, he simply couldn’t afford to get lost or show up late to his meeting.

  Another heavy gust blew through the tunnel from somewhere behind him, chilling his skin. In the carrier hanging off his left arm, a muffled cry started up, barely audible over the sounds of dripping water and debris crunching beneath his feet.

  He paused and looked down at the baby girl nestled in the carrier. “Shh, Willow,” he muttered, delicately stroking her tiny forehead. “It’s okay. Nearly there.”

  The baby gurgled and went quiet again. Stephen stared down at her beautiful young face for another moment as nausea rose in his throat. Gulping it down, he started walking again, ignoring all the alcoves and passageways opening off the main path. When he reached a set of stone steps leading below the floor level, he stopped and closed his eyes for a moment, willing his hammering heart to slow.

  He headed down the steps and turned right into another smaller tunnel. The candles in this one hadn’t been affected by the winds blowing through from above, so he slipped the flashlight into his coat pocket and used his now-freed hand to rub several beads of sweat off the back of his neck. Even though he’d been down here hundreds of times in the past without any issues, an alarming sense claustrophobia was swamping his mind, and it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

  Taking a deep breath, he ventured farther and farther into the new tunnel, clutching the baby carrier in a white-knuckled grip. When he reached the end, he took another right turn and hesitated, staring with fearful eyes at what lay ahead.

  Flickering candles sat in wrought iron sconces on the walls, flashing over intricate stone friezes and marble statues. Between the two biggest statues, a recessed door stood in shadow. Atop it was a carved stone scroll with three Latin words picked out in gold.

  Novus ordo orbis.

  Stephen didn’t want to go through the door and enter into the belly of the beast that was the Order’s headquarters, but if he wanted to save his family from his terrible mistakes, he had to push himself to do it.

  Five more steps and he was at the threshold of the shadowy door. Despite the seemingly-ancient design, a keycard slot lay on the right side of it, and motion sensors and cameras tracked his arrival. No one could get in or out without the appropriate authorizations.

  With one swipe of Stephen’s card, the door swung open into a small candlelit foyer. On the left of the small room was a table laden with black and gold masks for anyone who felt the need to wear one, but he ignored it and kept walking. Ahead of him lay a series of arched entryways carved out of pale gray stone, each one leading to a different part of the secret society’s headquarters.

  The arched door on the far left led to the main party room. Stephen stepped through it, adopting a neutral expression.

  His new surroundings were a far cry from the cold, dirty tunnels outside. Chandeliers lit the expansive space with a soft glow, accenting the high-end décor and valuable artwork adorning the walls. The floors were made of imported hardwood, the high ceilings were lined with crown molding, and a polished walnut bar stood on one side. Behind it, smiling girls in short black dresses and matching masks served drinks to visitors in crystal glasses.

  At the very back of the room in a darkened area, plush red carpets replaced the hardwood floors, and several semi-clothed and nude guests writhed on black velvet loveseats. Beyond that space, a series of numbered doors led to smaller playrooms. One door was currently wedged open. Stephen could see a woman on a black swing, legs spread wide and strapped to each end of the contraption. A man circled her, stroking his cock as she moaned and begged for more.

  Chatter, laughter, clinking glasses, and strains of music drifted through the warm air, along with the groans and cries from the men and women on the dark side. Stephen tried to ignore the sounds. He wasn’t here to join in the fun. Once upon a time, he’d loved this place and would’ve jumped at the chance to go wild in this room, but that was before he royally fucked everything up.

  “Stephen Rhoades. You made it.”

  The deep voice nearly made Stephen jump out of his skin, but for the sake of the baby in his arms, he managed to keep himself still. Turning to his left, he nodded and held out his free hand. “Chuck. Thanks for meeting me.”

  The taller man cast his dark eyes over Stephen. One brow arched in surprise as he noticed the baby carrier. “You didn’t need to bring her today.”

  “I had to. Quinn’s been tired since the birth. She needed to rest today.”

  Chuck’s upper lip curled in a disdainful sneer. “What about the help?”

  Stephen tried not to grimace at that. While he’d been born into wealth and privilege like so many other Order members, he’d never liked referring to hired workers as ‘the help’. It was patronizing and classist, and everyone knew it. However, a lot of people—people like Chuck—saw things differently. They actually enjoyed using such terms to assert their good fortune and dominance over their so-called inferiors.

  “Our nanny has the day off today, and the housekeeper and maids are too busy,” Stephen replied.

  “I see.” Chuck glanced down at the baby again. “She’s a beautiful girl. Three months old?”

  “Ten weeks. Close enough.”

  “I hear she inherited your hair.”

  Stephen nodded and carefully pulled off his daughter’s lilac knit cap. “She’s had it since she was born,” he said, softly stroking the tufts of reddish-brown hair on her little head.

  “Logan was the same when he was born. Nearly a full head of hair. Chloe was completely bald, though.”

  “Chloe?” Chuck’s brows dipped in confusion.

  “My daughter.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize you and Elizabeth had another child.”

  Chuck’s lip curled again. “Chloe is five months old now. I suppose you missed the birth announcement while you were busy making all this trouble for yourself.”

  Stephen’s stomach lurched, and he nervously licked his dry lips.

  “Shall we find a quieter place to discuss our business?” Chuck went on, tilting his head toward the edge of the room.

  “Yes. Of course.”

  The two men stepped through yet another arched door. The room beyond was small and cozy with a fireplace on one side and two black leather armchairs in the center. A polished table sat between the two chairs. Stephen’s hands began to feel clammy as he spied the paperwork strewn across it along with a silver tray covered in lines of white powder.

  “Does Quinn know what you’re doing
today?” Chuck asked, reclining in one of the chairs. A smirk played on the corners of his lips.

  Stephen shook his head as he lowered the carrier to the floor beside his chair. “She has no idea. If she did, she’d never let it happen,” he said in a low voice. He swallowed hard and lowered his gaze for a brief second as guilt roiled in his guts. “What about your wife? Does she know what you intend to do?”

  “Of course. There are no secrets in my marriage.”

  Stephen’s forehead wrinkled with surprise. “So you’ve told her about the Order?”

  Chuck let out a hollow laugh. “Okay, so there are a few secrets,” he said, waving one hand. “No, I haven’t told her about the Order. I’m not an idiot. But she knows about this little deal of ours.”

  “I suppose that makes sense. She’d have to know, wouldn’t she?”

  “Yes.” Chuck nodded and gathered up the papers. “Anyway, there are two copies of the contract. One for each of us,” he said. “Do you want to read it again to make sure you haven’t missed anything?”

  Stephen looked down at Willow as she slumbered in the carrier. His chest felt tight, and there was a distinct thickness in his throat. “No,” he said. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “It’s not too late to back out,” Chuck said, raising one thick eyebrow.

  “I can’t. There’s no other way.” Stephen swallowed hard. “If Quinn finds out what I’ve done to our family over these last few months, I’ll be ruined, and she will be too.”

  The other man shrugged nonchalantly. “Probably, yes.”

  “I can’t do that to her. She has so many ambitions.”

  Chuck leaned forward. “I’m aware,” he said with a slow nod. “Don’t worry, Stephen, you’re doing the right thing for your wife, even if it doesn’t feel that way right now. Quinn will achieve every single one of her goals, and she’ll owe it all to you and your sacrifice to the society.”

  “I hope so.”

  Chuck smiled. “Mark my words. Twenty years from now, she’ll probably be the president.” He hesitated for a moment before handing over the paperwork. “Please read this again, for my sake. I need to know you’re definitely on-board.”

  Stephen scanned the pages and nodded. “It all seems fine. You haven’t changed any of the details we discussed before now.”

  “Of course not. Our families might be sworn enemies in the outside world, but here in the Order Hall, we’re brothers. I wouldn’t screw you over by sneaking in new terms.”

  A ghost of a smile crossed Stephen’s face. “I’d hardly call us sworn enemies.”

  “You know what I mean. It’s the way everyone else perceives us, and they can’t know about all of this, can they?” He gestured around the room with one hand before pointing to an etching on the back wall. It was the Order’s Latin motto beneath a triangle with an eye inside it.

  “That’s true.” Stephen put the contract down on the table and looked Chuck right in the eye. “I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but I want to thank you for giving me this opportunity. As terrible as it sounds for me to say this, given the circumstances, your terms are very generous.”

  “I know. You’ll still get to raise your daughter and be with her every step of the way through her childhood. You won’t need to worry about a single thing for a very long time. That’s a much better deal than most people in your situation could hope to get.” Chuck held up a black pen. “Now, are you ready to sign?”

  Stephen nodded and took the pen. He hastily scrawled his signature on both copies of the contract, and Chuck followed suit.

  While they waited for the ink to dry, Chuck picked up the silver tray and held it out to Stephen. “One more for old time’s sake?”

  Stephen shook his head. “I have Willow with me, so I really shouldn’t.”

  Chuck let out a derisive snort. “It’s quite ironic for you to be so concerned about your child’s safety, considering what you just signed.”

  Stephen sighed and put his head in his hands. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the other man had a point. He leaned forward and snorted a thin line of powder up his left nostril, hating himself despite the wonderful rush that hit his brain in the next instant.

  Chuck snorted two lines of his own before excusing himself from the room. He returned two minutes later with a flickering black candle and a small dark wooden box. Stephen watched as he opened the box to reveal a gold seal stamp along with a pot of dark red wax. The pot was placed in a small stand above the candle, allowing the wax to melt.

  “This is it,” Chuck remarked a moment later as he folded up the contracts and slipped them into two envelopes. “Last chance to change your mind and tear up it all up.”

  Stephen didn’t say a word. The other man smirked and dipped the stamp into the hot crimson wax before fastening each envelope with the Order’s contract seal, a skull and crossbones symbol within a circle.

  “Congratulations,” Chuck said, handing one envelope to Stephen. “Your debt to my family is paid in full, and your problems will be mere history by the end of the day.”

  “Thank you,” Stephen murmured, averting his eyes. He was suddenly struck by a strange vertiginous sensation, as if his mind were hovering somewhere above his body, watching himself go through the physical motions of the darkest decision of his life.

  “Just to reiterate: you’ll have a long time with Willow. The contract clearly states that we won’t collect our dues until we are able to use her, and I don’t intend to break the terms.”

  “I know.”

  Chuck leaned forward, dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Enjoy the time you have with your daughter, Stephen, because the day she turns twenty-one, she’ll no longer be yours. She’ll be the property of the Thornes…”

  2

  Willow

  May 2nd, 2018

  1 Observatory Circle, Washington, D.C.

  * * *

  “Do you think your mom has ever fucked the president?”

  Marissa Leahy tilted her head to the side and fixed me with a questioning gaze. I stared back at her through narrowed eyes, slowly shaking my head as our friends Simone and Kate giggled and looked on. Behind them, harpists played soft music and attentive white-gloved servers filtered through the crowds of partygoers with heavily-laden trays.

  It was a night of flickering candlelight, tasteful decorations, and sparkling glamor, otherwise known as my mother’s birthday party. Every elite powerbroker in D.C. was in attendance, including the most influential politicians, lobbyists, and billionaires. Together, they made up America’s very own version of royalty. Anyone who wanted to make a grab at even the smallest bit of power would’ve killed to obtain a spot on the guest list.

  The party planners had moved most of the furniture out and opened up every double door on the ground floor to combine the living room, dining room, reception hall, garden room and lounges into one big party zone. A glistening champagne tower stood on a polished table right in the center of what was usually the dining room, and an enormous ice sculpture sat behind it, quietly dripping onto the tablecloth. Next to that was another round table stacked with gifts for my mom. I had no doubt that the guests had all tried to outdo each other to win her favor, each present more expensive and ornate than the last.

  “Well?” Marissa asked when I didn’t respond immediately. “Has she fucked him?”

  “The president is married to the first lady, and my mother is married to my father,” I said, pinching my empty champagne flute between my fingers so it didn’t slip out. The room had grown hot with so many people, and my hands were getting sweatier by the second.

  Marissa arched a perfectly-waxed brow. “That doesn’t exactly answer the question, does it?” she said, red lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Think about it. Your mom is the VP and she looks amazing for her age. President Rutherford is pretty sexy too. Do you really think they’ve never sneaked off to bang one out in the Green Room during one of those Congressional Balls?”

/>   I rolled my eyes. “I think they’re too busy running the country. Also, that’s gross.”

  “You’re only saying that because it’s your mom,” Simone chimed in. “But Marissa is right. It makes sense. President Rutherford is a fox. I’d fuck him too.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at that. The idea of Simone shedding her bristly, uptight image and jumping the president in the White House’s Green Room was hilarious, if only because it was so ridiculous.

  “Oh my god, there he is!” Kate pointed across the room, and we all turned our heads.

  President Rutherford and his wife Belinda had just stepped into the room. I already knew they were coming tonight—it was my mother’s birthday party, after all, and she was the vice president—but I had to admit, it still gave me a little thrill every time I saw the First Family. They seemed so perfect. Rutherford was a handsome, charming man, and Belinda was gorgeous, well-educated and articulate. Their son Teddy was the same. Handsome, intelligent, and charismatic.

  I looked around to see if he was at the party too, and my heart skipped a beat when I spotted him on the other side of the room. He was deep in conversation with Logan Thorne.

  The mere sight of Logan made heat rush to my cheeks. Every other woman within twenty feet seemed to be blushing at the sight of him, too.

  I couldn’t blame them. He was gorgeous with a steel-cut jaw, high cheekbones, and deep-set gray eyes which smoldered with confidence. As the son of Chuck Thorne and Elizabeth Hale, he was uber-rich and well-connected to boot; one of those guys who had women throwing themselves at him every second of the day.

  Not me, though. I couldn’t stand him.

  Both the Thorne and Hale families existed in the stratosphere of wealth and power in this country, and they were also famous rivals of my own family, the Rhoades. Despite the animosity between everyone, we all ran in the same social circles, and they were always invited to our parties and vice versa. Keeping up appearances, my father called it. My mother preferred to word the sentiment as ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’