Guys Like You: Book 5 of The Young and Privileged of Washington, DC

by Vivian Kohlman

  Guys Like You

  The Story of Ava and Knox, Part 2

  Book 5 of the

  Young and Privileged of Washington, DC

  Series

  By

  Vivian Kohlman

  This is a work of fiction. All names and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination, or a retelling of similar stories not to be taken as fact. Any resemblance of living or dead people, or incidences and events, is purely coincidental.

  Text Copyright © 2018

  All Rights Reserved

  Website: www.viviankohlman.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/viviankohlman

  Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/viviankohlman

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 1

  My life couldn’t be more perfect than it is right now. I love my university and classes are going well. And I’m dating the love of my life—an amazingly gorgeous and intelligent young man whom I’ve lusted after for many months before I finally got the nerve to be with. On top of all that, I’m best friends with my childhood girlfriends—we are still very tight.

  I’ve just finished my first month of undergraduate schooling—after studying nonstop to be sure I stayed on top of everything—and my boyfriend decided to reward my efforts with a long weekend in Dubai.

  That’s what he said, at least; in reality, he just used that as an excuse to take us on a short vacation. He and I are sunbathing on the Burj al Arab private beach, and barely anyone else is around us; it’s incredibly peaceful here.

  The soft breeze off the Persian Gulf kept the blistering sun’s heat in check, and I was starting to doze off to sleep as the breezes swept across my body. The air is hot, almost has hot as my boyfriend, and the water is cool, as is the mojito on the table next to me.

  My boyfriend and I have been dating for about three months…and we’re perfect for each other. Before dating him, I had a rough couple of years—nothing too out of the ordinary for a teenaged girl, but I was experiencing a severe case of angst and I needed time to figure myself out.

  Well, I’ve done it. I know I’m still growing and changing—we’re always growing and changing, aren’t we? But I’m grounded now. At least I’m way more grounded than I was the last few years.

  I did some pretty messed up things during my senior year of high school—cheating on my previous boyfriend, getting drunk all the time, shopping so much that I still haven’t worn half of the clothes I bought last year, and I even did coke once. Yes, cocaine—the drug. It was not a good time for me.

  Thankfully, that all changed when I finally accepted my feelings for King, my current boyfriend. We met nine months before we started dating and I have no idea why I continued to push him away; I wanted him since the minute I laid eyes on him. I should have known from the start we’d be perfect together, but I totally missed it. And I’m glad I did; King probably would have treated me like a one-night-stand if I gave in to him too quickly.

  Until me, that was his modus operandi—one- or two-night stands with women who didn’t care for much more than a fling, and who he didn’t care to see again. He claims to never have treated them poorly; he just honestly told them what to expect and they either agreed to a meaningless night of sex, or they walked away. And I believe him—what warm-blooded girl wouldn’t throw her heart away for a night alone with him?

  He’s tall, has a gorgeous body (thanks to training mixed martial arts and fantastic genes), has a near genius mind, and he has a face and demeanor so hot he could subdue a siren in seconds.

  He used to—sometimes he still does, actually—remind me of the Khal Drogo character in Game of Thrones, ironically also a king. But my boyfriend’s real name is Knox; King is a nickname he picked up years ago because he dominated all of his opponents in every one of his MMA, Thai boxing, and jiu jitsu fights. His friends started calling him “King of the Ring” and the name stuck.

  That’s how I first saw him—at a jiu jitsu competition, in the ring, dominating his opponents. Sweat was glistening off his perfect body and his muscles were bulging. I couldn’t look away, not even to watch my own boyfriend’s competitions. But that’s not the boyfriend I cheated on; it was my next one, Miko, who broke up with me because of King.

  Well, that was the given reason, but it was really just the straw that broke the camel’s back. Miko and I weren’t a good match, but neither of us realized that until the end.

  He and I dated for seven months and during that time I ran into King over and over; each time the attraction grew. One night, the night before my first date with King, I stopped fighting my desires and kissed him. Miko broke up with me the next day.

  For the months before we started dating, King and I were both slightly infatuated with each other, and by the time we actually did start dating, it was like we’d known each other forever. We clicked into place, once we finally gave in to our emotions. Now we’re so incredibly in love and still have so much passion for each other that I know he’s the one—at least, he’s the love of my youth.

  “Hey Princess, you need some SPF,” King said, pulling me out of my daydreaming.

  Princess is the nickname he’s used for me from the very beginning, and what he still calls me today. He only uses my real name, Ava, when he’s mad or overly serious; otherwise, it’s babe or princess. And I love it when he calls me either.

  “Yeah, OK,” I agreed, then dug around in my bag for the bottle and compliantly applied it.

  I rarely go against what King wants—he hardly asks me for anything that isn’t in my best interest or I don’t already want. King’s the most selfless and easy-going guy I know—as long as I stick to his ground rules.

  He’s jealous, which I’m working on correcting, and he demands complete honesty—something that was hard for me at first, but I’m getting used to it. It’s not like I’m a pathological liar, but now I can’t hide my real feelings or thoughts just to make him happy. King won’t allow it.

  And, OK, I have to admit that he’s slightly over-protective; I sometimes feel like a china doll in the palm of his hand. For instance, he has a nemesis named Giorgio who threatened to hurt me or King’s sister, Claudia, when we were in Los Angeles a few months ago. Because of that, her and I both have to have security detail wherever we go within the borders of the U.S. We get a break with foreign travel; King assumes his nemesis won’t bother flying overseas just to take revenge on a rival.

  So, yeah…I have an armed bodyguard with me at school, if I’m out with friends, when I go shopping—basically, if I’m out of the house and not with King, I have an armed guard as a companion. I’ve gotten used to this, too, and I know all the security staff by their first names now. It gives King peace of mind, so I allow it to continue, but I know it’s overboard. I’m sure his nemesis was just being obnoxious when he made those threats; I’m not concerned for my safety in the least.

  All of this is why I waited until this moment to tell him about my plans. We’ve had three days of sun, relaxation, great food, and lots of venturing out in Dubai to—hopefully—lessen his worries and take his mind off his over-the-top protection of me. He should be calm enough to realize
that the last time we had problems with Giorgio was over three months ago, and we need to live our lives like normal again. So I took a deep breath and raised the discussion.

  “It’s Asli’s birthday next week,” I said, treading into the ‘I need a night out without security’ territory lightly.

  “Oh yeah? What are you ladies gonna do?” he asked.

  He knows our tradition—each of us celebrates each other’s birthday together. It’s always just us girls, and we let the birthday girl choose whatever she wants. Well, almost always just us girls. As we’ve gotten older the birthday girl has the option to include boys, but it’s up to her.

  “She wants us to go to her uncle’s place to ride horses, then go to a vineyard for the afternoon and stay the night at her uncle’s ranch. Just us girls,” I said.

  “His place is a few hours away, right?” he asked.

  “Yeah, about two and a half. It’s in Virginia wine country,” I answered.

  “How do you plan to get there?” he asked.

  “We’re all going to pile into Emelia’s SUV,” I said.

  Here it comes.

  “That won’t fit all six of you,” he said.

  “There’s just five of us.”

  “Five girls, and at least one body guard. That’s six,” he corrected.

  “King,” I said in my whiney ‘let me get my way’ voice. “It’s Asli’s uncle’s ranch in boofooland. There’s no way he’s going to know where we’re going, go through the trouble of getting there, or find his way there anyway. I don’t need security with me.”

  “Yes you do. I’m sorry, but I can’t take the risk,” he answered.

  I put my hand on his arm, trying to sway him with the female touch. It can’t hurt to try; it works sometimes.

  “Baby, I have gone everywhere with your security guys since LA. I’ve been one hundred percent on board with whatever you’ve wanted. They’re with me at school, when I go out with my girls, when I run errands. Stephen even waited for me in the lounge of the salon when I got my nails done last weekend. They gave him cucumber water and offered him a shoulder massage, which he waved off so that he could keep a direct line of sight on me. Everyone there was whispering about who I was. It was embarrassing. Can I please just have one day and night off? I promise I’ll check in often.”

  “No. It’s way too far for me to get to easily. You need to take someone with you.”

  I couldn’t let this go. Over the last few weeks I’ve started to feel like a caged animal and I’m only asking for twenty-four hours of freedom from observance. I raised my head off the pillow on the lounge chair, resting on my elbows, preparing for a fight. I sucked down the rest of my mojito as I gathered my thoughts.

  “King, you can’t control me…I need my freedom. You make me feel like a prisoner…”

  “Prisoner?” he chuckled. “Are you kidding me? Did security stop you from dancing on the VIP table last week? Or stop you from doing a dozen vodka shots with Claudia two weeks ago? And don’t they drive you anywhere you want to go, and do whatever you want to do?”

  “OK, they didn’t do a thing to stop me from doing what I wanted, but they clearly reported every detail of my outings to you,” I said with annoyance.

  “I’m sorry it has to be this way…”

  “It doesn’t have to be this way; that’s the thing. We could live normal lives and hope for the best. It’s been over three months since you body slammed Giorgio in LA and he hasn’t once tried to get in contact with any of us. What makes you so sure that he will?”

  “I just know. He’s biding his time, letting us get comfortable. He’s waiting for this exact scenario…where you or Claudia start to get lax. I won’t let a door creep open for him to crawl through again,” he said.

  “How are you two doing over here? May I get you anything else?” our host asked as he dropped fresh towels and water bottles to our lounge area.

  “Yes, can we please have a bottle of champagne? We’ll have the Raventos, if you have it out here,” I said.

  King just watched me; he knew I was pissed. I never order bottles of anything for myself—if we get a bottle, we agree on which one in advance and he always puts in the order. Yes, I even let him order for me.

  Our conversation paused for a minute, but my anger continued to simmer. As soon as the host was out of hearing distance, King did his best to make things OK with me.

  “Look at me, babe,” he pleaded.

  I turned my head to face him and removed my dark sunglasses so he could see my eyes.

  “I know you feel smothered. I can tell. But please bear with me for a few more months—just until I figure out Giorgio’s plans.”

  “No. This isn’t fair. I’m not asking you to call them off; I’m asking for twenty-four hours so I can just be an eighteen-year-old girl hanging out with her girlfriends. I don’t want to have to explain to Asli’s uncle that my boyfriend is way overly protective, and I don’t want to take more than one car, and I don’t want a thirty-five year old man to follow us around for one friggin’ day. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Yes, considering the circumstances, yes. Give me some time to think this over. I’ll find a solution we can both live with,” he promised.

  That was enough to make me happy for the moment. I know he’s just trying to make sure I’m safe and I know he wants me to be happy, so I trust that he’ll come up with something that will allow for both.

  He picked up my hand that was again resting on his arm and kissed my fingers.

  “I would never be able to forgive myself if Giorgio hurt you, do you understand?” he asked, with his voice soft.

  “Yes, King. I know,” I said with a sigh.

  “I love you, Princess. And I protect what I love,” he said.

  I smiled to myself but looked away, not willing to let him see how happy his terms of endearment always make me. It will not be so easy to win me over—he can’t sweet talk his way out of this one.

  A few minutes later, he and I were both lying on our lounge chairs with our eyes closed, holding hands. Our lounges were right up against each other; this is how we moved them the first day we came out here and the host continued to place them together like this.

  “Would you two like an umbrella? The sun is getting strong,” the host asked, as he was popping open the champagne and filling the glasses.

  “Yes, that’s probably a good idea. Is that OK with you?” I asked King.

  “Absolutely.”

  The host placed our champagne flutes on the tables that were on either side of us, then opened the large umbrella already positioned behind us. The canopy blocked the sun from our entire bodies, decreasing the temperature immediately.

  We stayed on the beach until the bottle was empty. It was lovely and tranquil, still very warm with a slight breeze…and we were in no rush. The only sound, when we weren’t talking, was the lapping water; it felt like paradise.

  We didn’t mention Asli’s birthday again during our trip, but when we were back stateside King satisfactorily put an end to the issue.

  And a few days later, I was walking to class on the Georgetown University campus explaining to Asli that security would be joining us for her birthday, and the perks that went with that. Yes, King got his way, but added a little icing on top. King’s compromise with me was that two security guys would drive us the entire time in a stretch limo that was fully stocked, and they would do their best to leave us alone, once they ensured the area was secure.

  I could live with that, I guess. I wasn’t trying to go solo to defy King or anything; I just wanted a carefree time with my girlfriends, so King worked around that. Of course I knew this was unnecessary; the couple of days we spent at her uncle’s ranch would be uneventful anyway.

  Because we were being driven in a stretch limo, the champagne and cocktails flowed on our way to Asli’s uncle’s place. We arrived more than a little tipsy—except Tori, of course, she only had the one glass to toast Asli’s birthday—so Asli’s uncle
made us sober up before he’d let us take out the horses. That was probably a smart idea.

  After a short nap and food, we drove a couple of golf carts—kept near the house for just this reason—to the stables and each of us picked a horse to take out into the fields. All of us took riding lessons together as kids, so when the rust rubbed off we all felt confident taking the horses for a run around the ranch.

  One of the ranch hands guided us on a tour of the property. The ranch is impressive and diverse—we considered it an educational experience just as much as it was fun.

  At the end of our tour we decided to race back to the barn. Asli beat us all, but we weren’t really competing, just having fun in the brisk fall air. There is something very grounding about spending an afternoon in nature. Our horse ride lasted a few hours, and we rode them through a forest area, expansive fields, and alongside a winding river. It was pretty awesome.

  The afternoon was a warm seventy degrees or so with a light cool breeze. All of the trees on Asli’s uncle’s ranch were in the midst of changing color and some leaves have already started to fall.

  As we were putting the horses away, we all agreed to make this a yearly event; I think it did all of us some good to be out in nature for a while.

  But the security guys weren’t terribly comfortable with the excursion that took us around all four hundred acres of land. The potential security vulnerabilities were only a small part of their issue; the rest of it was that one of them had to come along with us.

  One guard stayed at the main house, monitoring the entrance of the ranch and the grounds around the house and barn, the other guard drove a golf cart along with us. At least he did the best he could; our horses were much faster than his little cart.

  It was a bit comical to see an armed, buff guy in a suit try to keep up with us in a slow—relatively speaking—golf cart. Every time we stopped, I used it as an opportunity to suggest that he ride straight back to the ranch, noting that we’re perfectly safe, but he refused.