The Making Of A King: The King Duet, Book 1 Read online

  By N.M. CATALANO

  The Making Of A KING,

  By Nadine Catalano

  Copyright © 2019 N.M. Catalano

  Published by N.M. Catalano

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this work may be copied or reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without the express consent of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental, except in actual circumstances.

  Purely for entertainment purposes for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  DEDICATION

  This one’s for Joy, Fran, and Linda.

  Thank you for sticking by me.

  I love you guys.

  ~ Nadine

  Other Works

  The Stranger Series

  STRANGER, Book 1

  SWITCH, Book 2

  KINK, Book 3

  PERFECT, Book 4

  HIDING, Book 5

  SUSPICIOUS, Book 6, coming soon.

  Black Ink Series

  BLACK INK, Part I

  BLACK INK, Part II

  BLACK INK, Part III

  BLACK INK, The Complete Trilogy, all three parts in one book.

  The Program Series

  THE BEGINNING, The Prequel

  CANVAS, Book 1

  TRIFECTA, Book 1.5

  BREATHE, Book 2

  TORTURED, Book 3

  VENGEANCE, Book 4

  The King Duet

  THE MAKING OF A KING

  ALL THE KINGS WOMEN, coming Fall 2019

  Stand-Alones

  THE ROOSTER CLUB, The Best Cocks in Town

  HAWK’S REVENGE – Program Series Spin-Off

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Books

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Excerpt From Black Ink

  A Note From Me

  About The Author

  The Making Of A KING

  Every story has a beginning.

  This is theirs.

  You should always be prepared for things to get worse.

  That's what he'd told me.

  I didn't listen.

  I should have known how things were going to turn out.

  From the first moment I looked into Lucas King's

  angry baby blues, filled with torment and vengeance,

  and aimed straight for me.

  Her first mistake was she was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Her second mistake was she didn't listen.

  I'd warned her. I'd told her I was going to take everything from her.

  I did. Things she could only give once.

  All of it was mine.

  She belonged to me the instant I saw her.

  She was a good girl.

  Too bad I was going to ruin her.

  This isn't a fairy tale. It's a story about a boy who made himself king, and his obsession.

  PROLOGUE

  In the distance, the constant rhythm of the waves crashing onto the shore is broken by the occasional noises coming from traffic and the people who rule the night. The alley is vacant except for the few cars that belong to the poor schleps still working at this late hour.

  Except for two.

  It’s dark and the two silhouettes are like black ink blots against the backdrop of the brick buildings. Almost hidden, they’d be unnoticeable to anyone passing by.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” the angry words float into the night.

  “I thought I’d pay you a visit, seeing as how you seem to be avoiding me,” the other man’s tone is mocking.

  “Shame you couldn’t take a hint.”

  There’s a low chuckle, almost like a lion purring deep in his throat, menacing without any trace of humor. A warning that destruction is brimming just below the surface.

  If you could see emotion, the alley would be painted red for the rage. If you could hear it, the raucous sound of explosions would be destroying the surrounding buildings. If you could taste the hate emanating from the two men, it would be vile and poisonous, thick and suffocating.

  “Now, there’s no reason for that,” he mocks him.

  A crash sounds from inside one of the back entrances that lead into the alley, but the men pay it no attention. They’re lost in the battle between them, one that’s been going on for years.

  “I’m here because you need to pay up. You owe me.”

  “The only thing I owe you is revenge. And I’d be more than happy to pay. Frankly, didn’t think you’d be so eager to get what’s coming to you. You surprise me, old man.”

  “Funny, coming from a street thug. As I see it, I made you. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten all you did.”

  “You’re right, I am what I am because of you. Maybe I should thank you.”

  “That’s why you’re going to give me a cut of everything.”

  A dark chuckle floats from the darkness, low and ominous.

  “I told you the next time I see you, I’m going to destroy you,” the threatening promise is delivered on a hiss.

  This time the man laughs. It’s loud and echoing, and only infuriates the other more. “You’ve always been a pathetic little shit.” He laughs again. “You’re funny, you know that?”

  “I wonder how funny you’ll think I am when you’re staring into my eyes after I slit your throat,” the words are barely audible, but delivered without hesitation.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You really should be careful. Someone might take you seriously for once in your life, make you shark bait. Cut you up into tiny pieces for chum. Then maybe you’d finally be good for something.”

  Laughter floats through the night from inside the lighted doorway at the front of the alley.

  Grabbing the man by the throat, he squeezes tightly as he slams him against the brick wall, his head hitting the stone and making a sick thud. “Oh, I’m good. So good no one will ever find your body. I’m going to enjoy torturing you, nice and slow, I’ll even keep you coherent so you can enjoy it with me. I’m going to kill you. And I’m going to savor every minute of it. Maybe I’ll do it right now, then leave you here for the rats to gnaw on.”

  “Oh my God,” the sound of a young woman as she whispers in horror slices through their black battle.

  Both men jerk their heads toward the sound. Standing outside one of the doorways is a small woman, horrified and transfixed at what she just heard.

  “Get the fuck out of here!” one man snarls.

  The young woman turns and runs from the alley, petrified.

  The enemy she just made watches her as she goes.

  CHAPTER 1

  Everybody wants something. Money, attention, affirmation, affection. Sex, drugs, and especially a way inside to that coveted place at the top. Prestige. Power.

&
nbsp; I’m the go to man. They all come to me. Whatever it is they need, whatever it is they want, whatever will save their ass. Because all they really want is a piece of me.

  That is the ultimate power. And it’s all mine.

  To the world, I appear to be the luckiest bastard on the face of the earth. I’m not. At all. Everything I’ve done, and do, is always for a reason. If there isn’t something in it for me, I don’t bother. Everyone is a commodity, and favors are the currency that makes the world go round, more valuable than money. And my portfolio has gathered quite the collection of diversity. It’s all about the long term, the future. Everything is connected, it’s all in how you play. Opportunity is everywhere just waiting to be taken advantage of, you just have to know where to look.

  Sitting in the last booth in the diner I come to every morning, the place that is my office at eighteen years old, I gaze out the window. On the outside this beach town appears to be Mayberry meets Beverly Hills. Small town congeniality with an exclusive country club membership.

  Lies. It’s all bullshit. I left the ugly truth in a shack near the swamps outside of town three years ago. My only regret is the alligators didn’t devour it, and the beginning of my life along with it. That’s when I started coming here, to get away, to blend in, to hide within the masses that never looked at me. I was invisible back then, a nobody. I walked among them, heard their secrets, saw their crimes, witnessed their indiscretions, like a ghost they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see. Until I was the only thing they looked for, the one thing that would get them what they needed. I became the necessary evil to answer their pleas, the only thing that could get them what they wanted. It had only been the beginning.

  I watch a Porsche pull up to the space at the fire hydrant outside the window. Looking at my watch, which was a gift from a special acquaintance after a particular favor, I notice he’s barely on time. I sip my coffee and watch him exit the car and enter the restaurant. I don’t bother looking at him as he slides into the seat in front of me.

  “Lucas, did you get that?”

  Preston Hollowell. The third. Pedigree a mile long, but lazy as hell. And his father’s a judge.

  I set the cup on the saucer as I lift my head.

  I digress. Preston isn’t lazy, he’s probably the most intelligent out of us all. Except for me, of course. his problem is he thinks he can skate through life with his ten-thousand-dollar smile, pretty boy looks, and generations long genealogical line. And he wears it loud and proud.

  “You look like shit,” I tell him as I motion to the waitress for more coffee.

  “Yeah, I know. I barely made it on time. I picked up Brooke an hour early this morning.” He gives me that smile that tells me exactly where his mouth has been, along with his dick, not thirty minutes ago. “That was after getting in at three when I crawled out of Katie’s bedroom window.”

  I glance at him. “You do realize there are three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, don’t you? You don’t have to get your pussy all in one night.”

  He shrugs. “I can sleep when I’m dead. Besides, Brooke’s leaving for Europe this weekend. She’s doing the student exchange thing. I thought I’d give her a going away gift, something to think about while she’s gone.”

  “She’s ridden your dick more times than I can count. All of ours. At the same time.”

  He shoves a hand through his already disheveled hair. It looks as bad as his clothes. “Yeah, but she sucks a mean dick. I might actually miss her.”

  The waitress, her name is, I glance at her name badge above the tits I do remember, Amanda. She’s smiling coyly at me. I instantly regret shitting where I eat and make a mental note not to dip my dick there again. I don’t say anything to her as she fills my coffee, virtually ignoring her. Am I an asshole? Yeah, I am. Too fucking bad. I think I hear her mutter bastard as she walks away.

  Yes, I am, sweetheart.

  “Here,” I slide the papers that were on the seat beside me across the tabletop to Preston. “A hundred bucks. Cash.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He pulls out his Gucci wallet and removes a crisp hundred-dollar bill from the many. He pushes it toward me before opening the papers to scan the contents. “Thanks, bro.”

  “Guaranteed A,” I leave the bill where it sits, not acknowledging it. “The person who wrote that got accepted to Yale. I should charge you five hundred, but since it’s you,” and since your dad’s a judge, you get today’s bargain price of Kissing Your Father’s Ass, even if he doesn’t know it.

  “Thanks, Lucas. I owe you.” Preston’s eyes are glued to the college required essay written by some poor kid that’s going to get Preston’s sorry ass into an Ivy league school with.

  “Yeah, you do. Why do you need that shit?” I motion to the document. “You could do that.” What he’ll never know is I got one for myself with that hundred dollar bill he just gave me.

  “The point is I don’t have to,” he comments casually as if money will buy you anything. Because it does.

  I feel my jaw clench. Shit like that still bothers me, because no matter how much money I’ll have, or how many favors a judge owes me, I’ll still be the poor kid who lived in the ‘gator shack’ near the swamp. I got my essay because, despite how good my paper would be, I’d never get in without a scholarship, and that’s what it’s going to get me. Everything I do, all the things I choreograph, has gotten me a degree on the streets, but no further. I want more.

  “Are you going to eat?” I change the subject.

  “Yeah,” he’s half listening to me, his eyes still moving over the papers. “Why’d we have to meet at the ass crack of dawn anyway? We’ve got carte blanche and get out the rest of the school year. My ass should be in bed.”

  “Unlike you, I’ve got shit to do,” I’m bored with him already, but I’ve got an hour to kill before my next appointment. Scanning the room, I’m thinking about filling the time catching some waves at the beach when my gaze falls upon a blur of long dark hair and glasses rushing in the front door. I watch her bee line into the kitchen as she flings the pack from behind her, her red Converse making slap, slap, slap sounds on the black and white checkered tile floor as she speeds through.

  Well, look who’s here.

  “This is good, really good,” Preston murmurs, his gaze still fixed on his ticket into college. “Where’d you get it?”

  “Nowhere you need to worry about,” I reply absently, waiting for the hot mess to either shoot back out the kitchen door or burn the place down, wanting to get a good look at her.

  Preston folds the papers back up then pushes them aside. “Do I even want to know?” he smirks as he leans back.

  “What I do isn’t anyone’s business,” I turn my attention back to him. “That’s why everyone loves me.” My tone is flat because I really could give two fucks. I know what people think about me, and do I care? Not even one little bit.

  It’s not Preston I have a problem with. It’s people. I don’t trust anyone, not one soul, not even him. That’s what happens when the world decided to shit on you from the moment you opened your eyes. It’s natural, like breathing. I like Preston, he’s a good guy, I’d say he’s a friend, and I don’t use that word lightly. I just have the socialization capabilities of a great white shark.

  He laughs. “Dude, people don’t even like you, you’re a dick. They fear you, want to fuck you, or be you.”

  He’s not wrong.

  “What’s the difference?” I shrug. “Better to be feared than liked. I’d rather be fucked than get fucked.” I’ve made damn sure of that.

  “I said I’m sorry!”

  Preston and I both turn toward the loud female voice as the swinging door that leads to the kitchen flies open.

  Ah, there it is, the boom.

  “Evie,” and the hot mess has a name. “If you’re late one more time, I’m going to have to let you go.” That’s Rosie, the owner of the diner, a short, round woman that would beat your ass with the big kitchen spoon if you pissed her of
f. She must like little Evie if she hasn’t kicked her ass to the curb yet, from the sound of things.

  “I couldn’t help it…,” Evie spins to face her as she ties her black apron around her tiny waist.

  “That’s what you said the last time, and the time before that,” Rosie waves her excuse off.

  “My little brother was being a douche and missed the bus. I had to drive him to school.”

  Whoa, princess has an attitude. That won’t get her any Miss Popularity votes in this pretentious town. She’s already on my shit list. It looks like she’s toeing the line on Rosie’s as well.

  I don’t even have to look to know every single eye in the place is glued on the exchange between the big woman and the petite hurricane, Evie. They’re all probably dying to start gossiping about her foul mouth and sassy attitude. Evie will officially be today’s sacrificial lamb on the gossip buffet to shred apart so they can fill their meaningless time.

  Get in line, sweetheart.

  “Honey, I hear you, I do,” Rosie rests a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She really does like her. Lucky girl, too bad it won’t save her ass. “But I’ve got a business to run. One more time, Evie, this is your last warning,” Rosie turns and goes back into the kitchen.

  “Shit,” I hear the storm mutter from our close proximity as she shoves some pens and an order pad into her apron pockets.

  “Whenever you find the time to start work, that’s your section,” Amanda comments snidely to her as she thumbs to our side of the room.

  Evie glares at her, jaw shut tight and eyes narrowed, biting back what most likely is a whole string of curse words going by her already colorful choices. I feel the smirk tugging on my lips. I’m going to give this girl shit, which is fucked up, I know it, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it. I’m an asshole, I own it and wear it like a cheap suit. Still, it doesn’t change the fact.

  “Thanks,” Evie finally manages to grit out as she twists her wild mane of hair into what’s supposed to be a bun. She rolls her eyes and goes around her.