Chapter 41 Lipstick and Lies
KIER
I blinked awake to a strange ceiling.
"Fuck… where am I?" My voice came out rough, my tongue sour like liquor and regret.
When I tried to sit up, a rush of flashes slammed behind my eyes—
"The king is back! Give him more!"
A woman's face blurred before me as she poured liquor from her mouth into mine.
Hands. Heat. Lips on my neck. Flashing lights. Bodies moving.
Then nothing.
I pressed a hand to my temple. My head throbbed. I glanced around—and froze.
Three naked women lay tangled in the sheets beside me.
"Damn," I muttered. "What happened last night?"
I remembered going to Opal Noir, then… blank. My old routine, sure—but I always remembered the details. Not this time.
I climbed out of bed. Cold tiles under my feet jolted another fragment loose—me, swiping a key card, women hanging off my arms, more drinks, more noise.
Then moans.
Then darkness again.
I scrubbed my face. Enough.
In the mirror, my reflection looked wrecked. I rinsed my mouth, grabbed my shirt from the floor, and started buttoning up when one of the women stirred.
"Leaving so soon?" she murmured, stretching, her body glinting in the soft light.
She strutted toward me, hips swaying. I didn't flinch.
"Yeah," I said flatly. "Got somewhere to be."
She smirked. "You seemed very into it last night."
I ignored her, snatched my wallet, phone, and watch, and headed for the door.
"Having second thoughts?" she called.
"No. You can stay—it's on me." I left without looking back. My penthouse. My old life.
And then—Genesis.
The thought hit like ice water.
Downstairs, the staff greeted me. I barely nodded. Outside, my G-Wagon pulled up, glossy black, sharp as sin. Damon stepped out, silent as ever.
I slid in. He drove without a word.
At the estate, I stepped out before the engine even stopped. The house was quiet—too quiet. Debbie was likely at school. Voices murmured in the kitchen.
When I walked in, everyone went silent. No Genesis.
"Good morning, young master," the maids chorused.
I nodded and turned to Eliana. "Morning. Where is she?"
"She's upstairs," she said.
A frown tugged my brow. "Upstairs? Why?"
The maids exchanged looks.
"What happened?"
Eliana hesitated. A maid stepped forward nervously. "Her mother came yesterday… said she needed to talk to the young madam. After that, she hasn't come down. Her food's untouched."
My pulse spiked. "Why wasn't I told? Where's Richard?"
I didn't wait for an answer, turning for the stairs—until Eliana's voice stopped me.
"Kier, maybe… don't let her see you like that."
I glanced down—lipstick stains on my collar. Great.
Ripping the shirt off, I tossed it aside and sprinted upstairs, my heartbeat drumming her name.
Genesis.
Her mother had no business here.
I shoved the bedroom door open.
There she was—curled under the covers, tray of cold food on the nightstand.
"Genesis," I said softly.
She turned. The pain in her eyes hit harder than the hangover.
I stepped forward, but she turned away.
Fuck.