Cruel Kiss (Cruel #6.5)

  CRUEL KISS

  A CRUEL SERIES NOVELLA

  K.A. LINDE

  CONTENTS

  Also By K.A. Linde

  1. Whitley

  2. Gavin

  3. Whitley

  4. Whitley

  5. Gavin

  6. Whitley

  7. Whitley

  8. Gavin

  9. Whitley

  10. Gavin

  11. Whitley

  12. Gavin

  13. Whitley

  Cruel King

  Also By K.A. Linde

  About the Author

  Cruel Kiss

  Copyright © 2023 by K.A. Linde

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at

  www.kalinde.com

  Cover Designer: Staci Hart

  www.stacihartnovels.com

  Photography: Sara Eirew,

  www.saraeirew.com

  Editor: Unforeseen Editing,

  www.unforeseenediting.com

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

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1948427814

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  Cruel King

  1

  WHITLEY

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  I closed my eyes on a sigh as I stared out across the Manhattan skyline. Robert stood somewhere on the other side of his enormous penthouse, watching me. He’d been doing a lot of that over the last ten days. After he told me that he wasn’t going on our planned holiday vacation and I’d have to spend the next two weeks on a private island without him.

  He thought I was upset.

  And I was.

  Just … not at him.

  I was mad that I wasn’t upset. I should have been. We’d been dating long enough that I should have felt something when he told me he couldn’t get the time off work. I should have felt something at all about him even. But I didn’t.

  Robert Dawson was classic Upper East Side good looks with tailored suits, a European haircut, and a boarding school pedigree. He hosted Gatsby-level parties, and he was in love with me. Like so in love with me. All of that combined should have been enough for me to fall in love with him too … right?

  “Whit,” Robert said. He stepped up to the window and leaned against the glass. He had on a navy-blue pin-striped suit and a furrow formed between his brows. “Talk to me.”

  “What is there to say?”

  “You’re mad that I’m not going.”

  “No,” I whispered.

  He sighed. “I did try to get the time off.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You’ve been off since I told you. It’s not fine.”

  I shrugged and searched for my classic Whitley bravado. To all of my friends, I was the bubbly, flirtatious pixie, who always had a comeback and a wild dating story. But right now, I felt resigned to another relationship that wasn’t working out. One that I’d thought might actually happen.

  Robert grabbed my arm and spun me to look at him. There was fire in his eyes now. He held in everything he felt so succinctly that I rarely ever saw fire from him. It was a nice change.

  “You can talk to me.”

  “I know.”

  “Is this because all of our friends are coupled up? You can hang out with Gavin and—”

  “No,” I said sharply. I didn’t want to talk about Gavin King. “No, it’s not that.”

  Robert slid his hands into his suit pockets. “Then, what? Because I’ve apologized a thousand times for this. I don’t know how much more groveling you want from me. I’ve been perfectly accommodating with everything you’ve wanted out of this relationship. Relationships aren’t normal for you, but it’s been a learning curve for me too. So, if you have something to say, just spit it out.”

  I finally met his gaze and arched an eyebrow. Well, that was new and different. Robert had always been a nice guy. I hadn’t expected him to push me here.

  If he wanted the truth, then I owed him the truth.

  “We should break up.”

  His jaw set as he froze to stone. “What?”

  “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  He pushed away from the window. He didn’t plead with me. I’d definitely thought that he would beg. Instead, he looked ready to rip his apartment apart. He picked up a glass and threw it against the wall. I jumped as it shattered into a million pieces.

  “Robert!”

  “All because I can’t go on this trip?”

  “No,” I gasped.

  “I thought our relationship was going great. I’ve done everything you asked, Whitley. I … I fell in love with you. This is self-sabotaging. You’re running at the first sign of feelings.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Then, what is it? Because from where I’m standing, you look scared out of your mind that you feel anything at all. When we first got together, I understood that you were a perpetual flirt and believed you were this broken girlfriend. You have a fraught history with relationships, but it doesn’t have to be this way.”

  All of that was true. Except how I felt about him. Because if anything, I felt numb, empty. The first time he’d ever pushed me about anything was this moment. It was too little, too late.

  “Thank you for psychoanalyzing me,” I quipped.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t belittle this situation.”

  “You’re the one who has it all figured out,” I shot back. “Did you ever think that it’s maybe just because I don’t feel the same?”

  “No, you’re running scared, like normal.”

  “I don’t love you,” I whispered, the wind dropping out of my sails.

  He staggered back a step but said nothing.

  I shook my head with a sigh. I didn’t feel anything at all. I wanted to. It would make a lot more sense if I did feel something for him. But it wasn’t there, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t make myself love someone that I didn’t. If that made me flighty and a broken girlfriend, then fine. Paint me as the villain.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t go like this,” he pleaded.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated.

  Then, I grabbed my suitcase, purse, and winter jacket and exited his apartment. I leaned my back against the door when it shut behind me. My stomach twisted in knots as I heard something shatter on the other side. Fuck.

  Well, that couldn’t have gone worse.

  Not even a little bit.

  I hadn’t known that I was going to break up with him when I woke up this morning, but here I was. I took a fortifying breath and then released it. As much as it sucked to hurt him, I couldn’t keep on like this. It was better to just yank the Band-Aid off.

  I stepped onto the elevator as my phone dinged. I checked the message, expecting something from Robert, but it was my bestie, Anna English.

  We’re here! Come downstairs, bitch!

  I closed my eyes and said a silent good-bye to Robert.

  On to bigger and better.

  Then, the elevator doors opened, and as I stomped out, my foot caught on the exit, and I fell face-first into none other than Gavin King.

  “Fuck!” I cried out.

  There was nothing I could do in this situation. I was fucked. I was going to fall on the floor all because I hadn’t been paying attention. And Gavin was going to be there to witness me looking like an idiot.

  “Jesus,” Gavin said as he reached for me.

  Then, Gavin’s arms came around my waist. I released a gasp as he pivoted sideways, twisting me in his arms. My caramel-colored hair dangled toward the floor. My hazel eyes went wide. The suitcase I’d been holding crashed against the lobby wall.

  “I got you,” he told me.

  Heat flooded my system. I was a tiny thing, only about five feet tall, and Gavin was somewhere in the mid-six feet range. I felt like a rag doll in his arms. Normally, my personality made up for the extra inches I’d clearly lost in my adolescence, but right now, I had never been so glad to be this small.

  Gavin was in jeans and a soft green sweater. His burnished dark auburn hair was carefully tousled, and a strand fell forward toward my face. His lips were mere inches away, and a secret dimple peeked out on one side. I was a goner for dimples.

  Something crossed his face that I couldn’t quite place. Desire? No, that was my imagination. Gavin wasn’t into me. He had never been into me. We were friends. We’d played each other’s wingman more than one time in the past. I was the flirt, and he was the player. We were too similar in so many ways. And neither of us was inclined to settle down. Then, I’d started dating one of his best friends, and he’d pulled farther and farther away.

  Now, he was right here.

  “Little clumsy, Bowen,” he said, hastily putting me back on my feet.
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  We were still so close together. Not quite flush, but I could feel the heat off of him. I tilted my head back to look up at him. Again, something flashed in those emerald eyes.

  He stepped backward and then went for my suitcase. “What happened?”

  I cleared my throat. “I don’t fucking know. Just tripped on something.”

  He flashed me a characteristic teasing smile. That was more the Gavin that I knew. “Where’s Robert?”

  “Oh,” I said, fighting for carefree Whitley. “He’s not coming.”

  Gavin arched an eyebrow. “Do I need to go upstairs and tell his ass to get moving?”

  “He has to work.”

  “So? That’s not an excuse.”

  I shrugged and met his gaze again.

  “We broke up.”

  2

  GAVIN

  We broke up.

  I heard the words that Whitley had said, but somehow, I couldn’t comprehend them. Robert was one of my best friends. Before he’d gone for Whit, he’d asked if I was cool with it. The guys thought I had a thing for her even though we said time and time again that we were just friends. Of course, my friends were right. No matter how I denied it, I had this pull to Whit.

  There was no one else in the world like this wild, flirtatious girl.

  Which was why I had stayed far away. I burned all relationships that I touched. And Whit deserved better. So, I’d told Robert to go for it and regretted every minute I had to see them together.

  But I was loyal to my boy.

  “That sucks,” I told her.

  She shrugged. “It’s not that surprising though, is it?”

  It was surprising, only because I knew how much Robert was into her. I’d known him a long time and never known him to go after anyone like Whitley. She was driven, one of the leading plastic surgeons in Manhattan. Not to mention, funny and a party girl and over the top. The girls Robert liked were one of two extremes: serious, studious types or girls who ended up in rehab.

  “He was really into you.”

  “Yeah,” she muttered with a sad shrug. “That makes one of us.”

  And there it was. I’d spent so long focusing on how much Robert liked her that I’d forced myself not to pay attention to Whitley too closely. In my mind, she was incandescent and vibrant. A shooting star in the night. A bonfire on the beach. The rush of that first roller coaster drop.

  But when I looked at her now—really looked at her for the first time in weeks—I saw something else. Her light had dimmed. Her smile didn’t quite meet those sparkling eyes. She drooped. And now that I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it.

  “I know he’s your friend,” she said quickly, “but—”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” I told her, sliding my hands into the pockets of my black peacoat. I’d ditched a suit for dark wash jeans and a green cashmere sweater. “If you’re not happy, then you have to do what’s best for you.”

  She brightened at those words, as if she hadn’t expected them from me. Like she had been waiting for everyone to tell her to get back together with someone who didn’t make her ridiculously happy.

  “Thanks,” she said as she pulled her own jacket on. “I guess that means it’s you and me as the lone single friends.”

  I went hard on the dimples. “I guess it does.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes. “Wingman?”

  “As long as you give me the good ones.”

  “Ha!” She rolled her eyes. “You can have the guys. I’ll take the girls. I’m over men.”

  “You say that every time a relationship ends. Weren’t you just lamenting that you were tired of women because they were so complicated?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, but I do like to eat out.”

  I winked at her. “Me too.”

  She pointed a finger toward my face. “Don’t steal all the good ones from me, King.”

  “Hey,” I said, holding my hands up. “I can’t guarantee a thing. I’m irresistible.”

  She rolled her eyes dramatically, which was what I’d been hoping for. “A little sure of yourself, huh?”

  “I have every reason to be.”

  Her eyes slid down my body, and for a split second, I was certain we were thinking the exact same thing.

  Finally, she shrugged and said, “True.”

  I was saved from coming up with an adequately flirtatious response by English storming into the lobby of the building. Her hands were out, blonde hair flying.

  “What the hell, Gavin? I sent you inside to make things faster, not to hold up the entire operation.” She gestured to her Rolex. “We’re on a schedule.”

  Whitley and I exchanged a look. English was a publicist by trade and one of the best in the business at that. She knew how to sass even the most famous among us. She had no qualms about doing it to her friends.

  “Sorry. Whit tripped.”

  Whitley shrugged and hoisted her purse up her shoulder. “I’m ready now.”

  “Then, let’s go,” English said. She slung an arm around Whit, and they walked out into the wintry New York City mix.

  It had snowed the night before. So, a soft white powder covered everything, except the streets and sidewalks, which were more like a black sludge. Ah, the joys of New York. A far cry from where I’d grown up in Midland, Texas. I’d been here long enough to love the city like home, but sometimes, I missed my family, the Texas weather, and fields of oil rigs.

  Which I admitted was a strange thing to miss. But when you grew up as an heir to the Texas oil fortune Dorset & King, it was somehow normal. My cousins ran the place back home, but I was the head of the New York division. Which meant I didn’t handle day-to-day operations in the field, but rather worked with investors, business execs, and refineries in the northeast. Someone had to do it, and with my Harvard contacts, I’d been the prime choice.

  A limo awaited us on the curb of Robert’s building. English hopped inside, and Whitley followed after depositing her bag. I slid inside and took the spot next to English’s boyfriend, Court Kensington. I’d gone to Harvard with Court and his best friend, Camden Percy. Camden would be joining us in Puerto Rico after Christmas with his wife, the infamous Katherine Van Pelt.

  “About time,” Court said.

  I grinned. “What can I say? I make women swoon.”

  Whit snorted. “Hardly.”

  Larkin St. Vincent rolled her eyes at the lot of us. She was the reason we were going to this brand-new St. Vincent’s Resort for the holidays. “Let’s get moving.”

  Her boyfriend, Sam, slid his arm around her shoulders and grinned. “Where’s Robert?”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Lark asked. “He has to work.”

  “Oh, sorry, Whit,” Sam said in his slight Southern drawl.

  Whitley shifted uncomfortably.

  English zeroed in on her fidgeting. “What happened?”

  “Well, we broke up.”

  “What?” English gasped.

  Lark’s eyes widened. She threw her long red ponytail over her shoulder. “Oh my god, when?”

  “Like … just now.”

  I leaned back in my seat and tried to look conciliatory. But when Sam and Court both turned their attention to me at the same time, I could barely hold back my affronted look back at them.

  “What?” I hissed at Court while Whitley was distracted, explaining her breakup to English and Lark.

  Court smirked. “You know what.”

  I opened my mouth to object and then closed it. He was right. Fuck. My friends knew me too well sometimes.

  Sam glanced at his girlfriend and back, as if checking to see that she wasn’t paying attention. “Finally?”

  “Hey, I’m not a dick,” I grumbled.

  Court held his fist out, and I thumped mine with his. “Oh, you’re going to have a fun vacation.”