Deep Down the Rabbit Hole: Kings of the Tower book two

by May Sage

  "I pay him to be available at two in the morning, Alexia," he replied, all the while calling the man, who replied on the second ring. "Bash. Book the palazzo for another night."

  "Roger that."

  He hung up without another word, to Lexi's obvious astonishment, given the way her pretty mouth popped open.

  "You know how rude that was, by the way?"

  Mav frowned, confused.

  "If you can't be bothered to say "hi, how are you doing", "could you please", and “goodbye”, I wouldn't work for you, regardless of how much you paid me."

  Wasn't she sweet? He had to smile.

  "I pay him two hundred and fifty thousand per year, sweetheart. His benefits include the use of most of my holiday homes and the jet - unless I need it. Trust me, he doesn’t care whether I recall to ask about his mother’s diabetic cat.”

  Lexi's eyes were so damn expressive. They practically jumped out of her face.

  "Oh, okay. Fair enough, carry on being an ass." Then she turned to Tori, and pouted, "Why can't I have that?"

  "Because you'd never take one of my calls at two in the morning."

  She nodded her head up and down. "True."

  “And because I’m not on Forbes’ list,” Tori mused, before adding, “yet.”

  “Just a matter of time, lady.”

  Maverick felt compelled to add, "Also, I'm particularly curt because as you mentioned yourself, it's two in the morning. I'm sure he'd rather I get to the point and leave it at that. Bash has been a good friend of mine for years."

  Why he was justifying himself, he’d never know. He certainly didn’t make a habit of it.

  Her response was cut out by his phone's vibration.

  "Bash, hi, how are you?" he said, winking at Lexi, who rolled her eyes, but also secretly smiled.

  "How am I? Are you sick? Do I need to book a doctor?"

  He had to chuckle. "No, I'm quite well. Are we booked in?"

  "No. Actually, that's hell no, unless you want us to chuck important guests out of their rooms. The palazzo is completely booked. Members of the press, business partners you've invited."

  "Shit. Can you look at other..."

  "Do you think just checking one place would have taken me ten minutes? I checked. Most five-star venues in the city center are booked. It's fucking busy during Carnival to start with and there's some sort of weather issue on top."

  "Yeah, we noticed. Planes are grounded."

  "I'll carry on inquiring until we have something. There's a bunch of hostels, motels, and other shit places with availability, but if you don't want bed bugs, give me a few."

  This time, it was Bash who hung up. Mav stopped to muse, and he realized that Lexi had a point. He'd never noticed before, but the abrupt parting was pretty damn rude, actually.

  Another problem for another time.

  "We can't return to the palazzo - our rooms have been given and it's fully booked; you're right. Bash is looking into venues. At the same time, we could get a taxi, try to see if we can find somewhere..."

  "Traveling the canal in this weather? No, thank you," Bryant protested. "I'd like to hold on to the contents of my stomach. We can rent a car. Better than waiting around in the airport. You'll let us know as soon as we can fly?" he asked their flight attendant, who assured them he would immediately let them know.

  "The jet will be ready to go the moment we're cleared."

  "Should we leave our luggage?" Tori wondered.

  "If I may, ma'am, it may be advisable to keep it with you, in case this lasts more than a day."

  Days.

  Mav sighed. Maybe Desmond had had a point, moving without waiting for him.

  In the meantime, things could be worse. They'd simply find somewhere to stay, hide from the weather for a few hours with a bottle of something nice and some decent food.

  He just had to make sure he didn't end up alone with the hot-as-fuck, sexy, funny assistant whom he was starting to get to know.

  * * *

  Two hours later, he was starting to get very fucking pissed, mostly at himself, because if he'd just shut his mouth, they might still have been in the damn hotel right now, enjoying a weekend off. He would have still been asleep, like anyone should be at ten on a Saturday morning.

  Each and every single goddamn hotel they'd stopped at had been fully booked. Each one. The weather was so dreadful, they were all questioning their safety as they travelled the strange long, winding road. The wind wasn't the typical mistral at all, contrary to what he’d assumed; it brought the red sand with it, which was typical of a sirocco. Dammit, he should have checked, instead of just guessing. This wind was serious and could last quite a while. It came all the way from North Africa - the Sahara or Morocco. No fucking wonder they'd grounded their flight.

  Meanwhile, Bash was calling every now and then to tell them he'd found somewhere close to Timbuktu or something. "I still have a dozen on my list, don't worry."

  Maverick was desperate enough to say fuck it and just tell him he could put up with bed bugs in a youth hostel when finally, finally, it happened.

  The hotel seemed charming and well-established. More to the point, it didn't look like it was going to be blown to bits, unlike their car.

  Only one problem.

  "Do you happen to have any availability for tonight?" Lexi asked, quite desperate.

  The smartly dressed member of the staff proudly puffed his chest, glad to be able to reassure the pretty lady.

  “Yes, ma’am, we have just two superior rooms left,” he replied.

  He seemed delighted. Meanwhile, Lexi's face fell. So did Mav's.

  Shit. Shit. And triple shit with shitty drizzle on top.

  One of the rooms would go to Tori and Bryant, of course. That meant sharing with Lexi.

  He was fucked. She was fucked, too. In fact, there would be a lot of fucking if this was happening.

  He asked if the rooms had separate beds. He could deal with that, right?

  The Italian was sorry to announce that it didn't. Just one king-sized bed.

  Fuck.

  What now?

  Now, it was time to grow some balls and do what he had to do. Dammit, they were adults. Being attracted to each other didn't mean that they had to fuck. It would be just fine. He'd control himself.

  He had to.

  Kneel

  It was a large room, all things considered. Open plan, with a little entryway, a dressing table, a desk. No sofa, of course; that would have made Lexi's life too easy.

  Overall, their suite should have been plenty big enough for two people, but they could as well have been standing in a damn closet. Lexi felt, heard, smelled him everywhere. His gaze burned holes in her back as she moved awkwardly. The sound of his approaching footsteps alerted her; she was so damn close to spontaneous combustion.

  "Here you go."

  He sounded way too close. She turned to find him just a step away, handing her a piece of white fabric. "Oh, right." The t-shirt he'd offered to lend her, when she'd begged for PJs. She'd forgotten about that; good thing he hadn't.

  "Are you one to take hours in the bathroom?"

  "If the occasion warrants it," she replied with a shrug. "Not before going to bed, though."

  Bed. How obnoxious that seemingly innocent word sounded all of a sudden. Lexi felt her cheeks flush at the mere mention of the large piece of furniture, covered in white and gold taffeta.

  Lexi remained still for a beat too long, until he prompted, "Do you prefer another color?"

  Oh, the t-shirt. Wondering when she'd stop acting like a damn awkward teenager around him, she finally took it. "No, that's perfect. Thank you."

  "My pleasure. Take the bathroom first; I have to make a call."

  She nodded, and practically ran to lock herself safely behind the door. Only then did she manage to take her first deep breath since they'd entered that hotel room together.

  It wasn't entirely her fault the guy was just too fucking hot for words.

 
She considered taking a cool shower, to get her head screwed on right, but she didn't hate herself that much. She turned it on hot and stayed under the strong spray a little longer than necessary.

  Sometime over the next five minutes, her tired muscles relaxed and she remembered who she was. A twenty-eight-year-old self-sufficient woman who didn't need to feel embarrassed in the presence of anyone at all, including sex gods. So what if he was hot? That didn't change the fact that they were both, as he'd pointed out, responsible adults. She could totally sleep next to him without spontaneously combusting and melting into a pile of goo.

  She got out, brushed her teeth, dried herself, and put the t-shirt on. Lexi pulled her last pair of clean panties out of her suitcase with a resounding sight. Yep, there was a great big hole in the middle of the tiny little red panties. Easy access and all that.

  What the hell had she been thinking?

  Truth was, she loved her naughty lingerie. Whether it be at work, when some exec made her feel like she didn't matter because her job description included bringing him coffee, or when she caught the eye of a cute stranger, it gave her a boost of confidence. It was like she always had the last word, whatever the situation. "Sure, you might be making per month what I earn in a whole year, but hey, I have an open-crotch thong on right now." There, she won at life. Every single time. But that worked because it stayed safely hidden underneath knee-length skirts or pants. Right now, confronted with the very real possibility of someone actually catching a glimpse of the red fabric, she winced. More traumatic yet when that someone was Maverick Fucking King.

  She considered bypassing underwear altogether, but the t-shirt reached mid-thigh. It could hike up during the night; if he caught a glimpse of her ass, seeing something there beat the absolute certitude that she hadn't worn anything.

  Whatever way she thought about it, it was going to be absolutely fucking mortifying. Maverick was going to believe she'd made a cheap pass at him. She winced. What if he complained about it to Bryant? Shit.

  Cursing herself all the way, Lexi put the damn panties on, and left the bathroom.

  She stopped short as soon as she'd crossed the door. Maverick was sitting on the bed - their bed. He'd removed his suit jacket, and opened the first three buttons of his shirt.

  Oh fucking hell. This wasn't fair.

  Come to think of it, it was perhaps the very first time she'd actually seen him so casually attired. He was downright lickable. Lexi bit her lip and averted her eyes.

  "You lied."

  She lifted a brow, returning her attention to him.

  "You said you weren't one to linger in the bathroom without cause."

  "Well, not usually. Once I was under the shower, though, I just couldn't bring myself to step out."

  He chuckled. "Can't blame you. It was fucking cold and miserable out there."

  Maverick got up and advanced towards her with a confident stride; she got a whiff of his heady, musky scent as he passed her to get inside the bathroom. Yummy. Just...yummy.

  She groaned and fell on the bed face first. Then an idea suddenly entered her mind. Hotel rooms had mini bars, right?

  She got to her feet and explored, until she found a small fridge tucked next to the desk.

  "Victory!"

  Alcohol. There was alcohol. All wasn't lost yet.

  Lexi was a bit of a lightweight, particularly when she hit the hard stuff; she could deal with a little bit of wine or champagne here and there, but a double vodka and she was toast. That was how she was going to survive this: get drunk and pass out.

  She glanced at the price list and winced; damn, it was expensive, and that certainly couldn't go on her list of expenses.

  "Do they have any whiskey?"

  She made the mistake of turning, and then she died.

  Holy fucking smokes. Maverick had come out with nothing more than a white towel low on his hips. Fuck, but he was delicious. Built like a Greek god, with the V, some soft, curly hair on his chest, a fucking six pack. He was drying his hair was a small towel, making all of those muscles work for her viewing pleasure.

  "Lexi?"

  Oh. He'd talked. And somehow, he expected her to respond, all the while parading around the room like that.

  Maverick got the towel off his face and looked at her. Then, he smirked. He fucking smirked, knowing exactly what he was doing to her.

  "Sorry, just appreciating the results of your excellent workout routine," she finally said, refusing to feel embarrassed by the fact that she drooled over his very, very hot and drool-worthy body.

  "What, I'm a businessman, so I'm not supposed to go to the gym?"

  "Not complaining. But you may want to cover that up - I don't want to attack you in the middle of the night."

  Maverick laughed. "I don't wear PJs. Boxers only, and that's because you're here." She flushed. "You'll have to restrain yourself." Then, he prompted, asking again, "Whiskey?"

  She shook her head. "Not that I can see but I'm sure we can order some from the bar."

  He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. We could share a bottle of wine."

  She pondered. Wine sounded good, but it wouldn't serve the primary purpose: knocking her the fuck out.

  "On me," he added, sealing the deal.

  If he wanted to spend fifty dollars on a bottle of wine, who was she to stop him?

  "Alright. I don't know much about wine - do you want to pick?"

  He shrugged. "Make it wet and red."

  Ugh, the man was impossibly perfect.

  She picked a merlot and poured them two glasses. "Here's to a lovely city. I'm really glad to have visited Europe."

  "Your first time?" he asked without sounding like an ass about it.

  She nodded. "Yes. Italy was on my to-do list - it still is, really, since we didn't get around to visiting anything. But what I really want is to see is France."

  "Oh?"

  She pointed to her own chest. "Major foodie here. I want to go for a week and eat all the things."

  He seemed amused. "So, you aren't in for the castles, cathedrals, and museums."

  "Do they have food in them?" she point-blanked.

  His blue eyes took her in from the tip of her naked toes to her face, burning a hot trail all the way.

  "If I had to send you to one circle of hell, it certainly wouldn't be for gluttony."

  She laughed it off nervously, all the while wishing that she was the sort of person who could say, where would you send me? If she was going to hell for lust, she didn't mind as long as he tagged along.

  Oh man, how fucking pathetic she was around him.

  "You seem cold."

  "Uh?" she asked, then she glanced down, and oh, fuck. She did seem cold. Or something. Her nipples were standing at attention, saluting him under a layer of white fabric.

  She rushed to the bed, but came to a stop once she'd reached it.

  "Do you favor a certain side of the bed?" she asked.

  Maverick tilted his head. "I'll simply attempt not to end up on yours."

  Alert, alert, imminent liquefaction.

  She moved to hide under the covers, while he remained on his feet, watching her - although her eyes were firmly fixed on her glass of wine, she could feel his gaze.

  "We have to be realistic. In the middle of the night, we're likely to end up intertwined. We'll instinctively seek out each other's warmth, it's human nature. Are you going to be okay about it?"

  She bobbed her head up and down a little frantically. "Yeah, no big deal. Right?"

  Maverick smiled again. "No, I don't suppose two members of the Tower would find that a big deal."

  Oh, he'd gone there. Mentioned the freaking sex club they both belonged to.

  "You know, I've seen you there a few times and I can't help but wonder what brings you there. You seem a little too innocent for the rest of us."

  Lexi finally turned to directly glare at him.

  "But right now, I get it. The averted eyes. The instinct to ask for permission. You t
ruly are a submissive."

  What was she supposed to say to that?

  "What are your safe words, Lexi?"

  His voice had changed, becoming low, harsh, caressing and absolute. He wasn't the straightforward businessman, or the easy guy he was when he spoke to Bryant and Tori right now.

  "I..."

  "Two safe words. Slow and stop. Give me your safe words, and you can tell me to stop right now."

  Stop what, she could have asked, but she knew. Oh god, she knew. He'd started a scene. With her. She'd started...

  She bit her lip. "I don't have safe words." She barely recognized her own voice, weak, breaking every other word.

  Anger crossed his gaze for a beat, soon replaced by a surprised wonder. "You've never done any scenes."

  Unable to speak, she just acquiesced.

  "Well, you'll need to pick two. They have to be words you wouldn't naturally say - something that seems out of context. When I, or any partner, hear them, we'll know that you either want to stop, or take a break."

  He explained it patiently. Her throat dry, she replied, "I know, I read about it. People normally go with traffic lights, right? Red, yellow, and green?"

  "People aren't you. If you want to use traffic lights, you'll use traffic lights. At the end of the day, you're the one giving me your safe words, not the other way around."

  She bobbed her head. "Traffic lights are fine. I won't forget them, then."

  She attempted a smile, but felt a little sick, and was having a hard time breathing. Was she in shock?

  Never in a million years had she imagined that Maverick King would want to play with her. Maybe it was just because she was there, and he was bored, but still.

  "Alright, Alexia," said he, calling her by her full name. How he knew it, she had no clue, but it sounded hot as fuck on his lips. "We're on a work trip, and we just so happen to have been thrust together. I want to play with you, but this may make you feel uncomfortable. Safe word."

  It was an order and she responded immediately. "Green."

  If Maverick was surprised, he didn't let it show.

  "Good."

  Seeing him move made her heart beat at a thousand miles an hour but instead of getting closer to her, he increased the distance between them, going to lean over the desk in the entryway.