King

by Dee, L J

  King. He wore the name well. Marketing royalty, inherently arrogant with a supreme confidence that could only come with an inflated sense of self worth. Infuriatingly gorgeous, worshipped by his devoted band of loyal subjects and the bane of my professional life. God I hated Jason King.

  Charlotte Smith is at the peak of her profession, and on the verge of realising a long harboured dream. Few people know what she’s endured just to get here, and one in particular seems determined to stop her.

  When beautiful and brilliant CEO playboy Jason King strides into her life, Charlotte’s world is thrown into absolute turmoil, as his need for control and her steely resolve collide with an intense passion she had never envisaged. Pulled further into the dark desires of the handsome enemy that stirs her so deeply, she knows she must protect the heart that beats within her. A heart that has never known love.

  What happens when the man you loathe becomes the man you can’t live without?

  Copyright ©2013 L. J Dee

  All rights reserved. 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 permission from the publisher in writing. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely incidental.

  This book contains mature themes and graphic descriptions of a sexual nature and is intended for an adult audience

  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 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 1

  I raised my glass and glanced at him briefly as he acknowledged my reluctant thank you, nodding curtly as the slim brunette ran her hands affectionately over the front of his crisp white shirt. He wasn’t gloating, at least it didn’t look that way and neither of us smiled. If his face suggested anything, it was more like pity. Part of me had wanted to take the large glass of chilled Chardonnay and dump it over his head. Instead, I sat quietly and drank it like a lady, gracious in defeat and enjoying the warmth that spread through me as it made its way slowly into my stomach.

  The wine bar was heaving and I sat in the small booth alone, cordoning myself off from the usual Friday night revelry as he held court at the bar, and I could hear the laughter of the loyal staff that surrounded him and the girls who were hoping he’d take them home tonight. Katie came over briefly to enquire about the presentation as I sat slugging back the pale gold liquid and guessed immediately that I hadn’t won the account. “Who got it?” she asked simply as I tipped my head in the direction of the bar, not bothering to raise my eyes. She watched him for a while, turning to look at me when she’d eventually had her fill of the gorgeous vision that was dominating the space there, and from the way she smiled, I assumed he was looking in our direction. He’d know we were talking about him which irked me slightly, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he bothered me at all. “Shame, I thought our idea was awesome” she said eventually. So had I.

  I really needed the Castle account, but as I’d sat in the plush reception waiting for my turn to pitch, and CEO Brandon James had personally seen him to the door, shaking his hand firmly before beckoning me in, I knew that he’d already nailed it. The truth was, my pitch had been an exercise in futility, several people feigning a mild degree of interest when they’d already made up their minds.

  “You’ve got to admit Charlotte, he is something else” she grinned as I rolled my eyes at her. This was not a conversation I wanted to be having. I shook my head. “He’s an arrogant prick” I said simply, trying to quell the anger that was bubbling inside me. My dark mood didn’t seem to deter Katie, who looked across at him again and began to giggle. “Arrogant prick or not, I definitely would” she smiled “and I bet you would too” she grinned broadly, winking at me. “No Katie, I most definitely would not” I said firmly, following her slack jawed gaze to the edge of the booth. “What would you definitely not do Smith?” he smiled, holding another glass of chilled Chardonnay in his outstretched hand. I stood, ignoring the drink as Katie flushed, watching us intently. “I was just telling Katie how I most definitely would not sleep with you King” I said coolly, disarmed by his ensuing laugh as I picked up my bag and strode out into the night.

  The cool night air was a welcome relief on my warm skin. That little run in had done nothing to improve my mood and I wondered how he would have responded if I’d given him the chance. It was out of character for me to be rude, especially to a very well respected member of the same industry. I could be begging him for a job one day, and at the rate I was failing to win the big accounts lately, it might be sooner than I’d like. Why the hell did he call me Smith? He didn’t call anyone else by their surname, but it was the only way I’d ever heard him refer to me. He was under my skin tonight, a huge source of irritation and the bane of my professional life. I hoped that King considered a pet food commercial beneath him, because the last thing I needed on Monday was to go head to head with him again.

  The tap on my shoulder startled me and I spun around to find him standing there, larger than life, looking infuriatingly glorious, a small smirk playing at the side of his mouth as he held out my coat. Our gazes locked for a few uncomfortable seconds, the black pupils in his bright blue eyes, burning into mine. I couldn’t even bring myself to thank him as I took the navy blazer and threw it over my forearm. “You would Smith” he said grinning, all perfect white teeth and soft full lips, and it took me a few moments to even process what he was saying. I threw him a puzzled frown, prevented from responding with anything else as Katie bounded up beside him and I was grateful for the intervention, until he wound his hand tightly around her back as she looked up at me, smiling broadly.

  She had to be kidding me. I looked at them both and shook my head, turning on my heels before things could get any worse. ‘You would Smith’, the words played over and over in my brain. Arrogant bastard, who the hell did he think he was? I loved Katie, but after what had happened today, I was reeling that she was leaving the bar, probably to spend the night having red hot sex with my nemesis, and it felt strangely disloyal. He had probably done it on purpose just to piss me off. God I hated Jason King.

  My foul mood persisted into Saturday morning and I needed a run, to clear my thoughts and purge my system of all the things that had kept me awake, tossing and turning into the small hours, namely Castle vodka and Jason King. I had spent endless days and sleepless nights working on that campaign, and it was the latest in a long line I had recently lost to him.

  The park looked beautiful in the autumn sunlight, trees of orange and brown bathed in the feint yellow glow as I ran across the overgrown damp grass, enjoying the crispness of the early morning mist that enveloped me like a cooling blanket. The air was fresh, the birds were singing brightly and it was exactly the solitary escapism I needed to refocus and move on.

  At this hour the park was almost deserted, the odd dog walker and the silhouette of another lone runner further in the distance. I looked again, it was hard to tell from here, but the figure looked vaguely familiar. Thick black hair, slightly long on top, giving it the mussed, just rolled out of bed look, jaw shaded with a dark shadow of stubble and strong muscles flexing as he pounded across the open space. Was the
re no escape? I watched him, running harder and faster, hoping that if I cut across the park at this speed I would avoid having to see him. He certainly hadn’t seen me yet, and I was keen to keep it that way. “Argh” I cried out, stumbling over a thick piece of bark I hadn’t seen, half buried in the long grass, and fell to the floor, searing pain radiating from my ankle as I cursed under my breath, shorts dampening on the dewy grass as I assessed the damage.

  Tears pricked at my eyes as the injured leg began to swell immediately and I grabbed it instinctively, trying to rub against the pain. He had noticed now and was running in this direction, and judging by the speed of his determined pace, I would have no chance to extract myself from this particular situation. In seconds he was hovering over me, surprise and genuine concern etched on his face as I took a deep breath and tried to get to my feet. “Are you OK Smith? That ankle looks pretty bad” he smiled, holding his arm out in an attempt to help. I ignored the gesture. “I’ll be fine” I spat coldly, trying my best to hobble in the opposite direction, gasping as he slid a muscular arm firmly around my waist.

  “Let me help you. You need to elevate that quickly and get some ice on it, to stop it getting any worse”. I nodded, despite feeling like the last thing I wanted was a lesson in first aid from Jason bloody King. “I live just there” he pointed to a beautiful five storey Victorian townhouse right at the edge of the park.

  I had always admired those homes, with their classic cream facades offering an amount of space unusual for central London and incredible views of the open green park. I’d often wondered on my long runs who was fortunate enough to be able to live in them. Typically, it had to be the man I loathed. Some people in life seemed to have absolutely everything going for them, and Jason King was undoubtedly one of those people. “I’ve got ice, come with me” he smiled, tightening his grip as he helped me along. “I’ll just go home” I said stubbornly, my ankle pulsing with pain, the morning air and his firm touch, combining to send a shiver right through me as he stopped, holding my shoulders as firmly as my gaze. “Stop being obstinate Smith, you’re coming with me” he growled, leading me across the park and slowly up the broad stone steps that led to his home.

  He helped me inside and sat me down on a beautifully soft, lemon coloured couch, manoeuvring me gently into a laying position and elevating my leg over plush cream cushions, smiling kindly before disappearing through a large door into what I assumed was the kitchen. His home was beautiful and it was evident where his money went, as I gazed around at the eclectic collection of furniture that was as unusual as it was varied, and it fit the space perfectly. It wasn’t the kind of home I envisaged Jason King living in. I had expected somewhere cold and lacking warmth, a bit like the man himself. Sharp and devoid of personality, with lots of metal and glass, a typical playboy bachelor pad, but it couldn’t have been further from the magnificent room I was resting in now.

  Most of the pieces looked imported, hints of East Africa, Spain and Italy, and a huge cabinet that wouldn’t have looked out of place in an old French chateau. The artwork complimented the pieces perfectly and as I looked closely, I recognised some of it from the cities art houses, and considered the fact that they may well be originals. It shouldn’t have gone together, but somehow it did. No doubt he had paid someone a small fortune to design it, he could certainly afford it. As CEO of King Marketing, the largest and most successful agency in London, he wouldn’t be lacking the finances.

  He returned with a large glass of chilled water, two paracetamol and an icepack, which he wrapped around my swollen ankle, looking up to smile at me. Despite his kindness I couldn’t bring myself to smile back. The touch of his hands on my bare skin was firm and I found myself imagining how I’d feel if his hands explored further. What on earth was wrong with me? I hated this man. I pushed the thoughts quickly from my mind and sipped at the cool refreshing water, swallowing the pain killers and hoped they’d kick in quickly. “You don’t like me much, do you?” he half laughed as I met his gaze and I couldn’t stifle the small giggle that burst from my lips. “I don’t really know you” I answered calmly as he grinned down at me, rubbing his hands across the dark stubble on his strong jaw, assessing me closely with mischievous blue eyes.

  “I wasn’t happy about not winning the Castle account yesterday” I said, in an attempt to justify my prior rudeness. He nodded. “Yeah, I guessed as much, you were in a vile mood in the bar last night. It’s the worst I’ve seen you Smith. You weren’t that bad when I won the Pharma account last week or even when I got Rolex.” I frowned at him, trying to recall if I’d even seen him after I’d lost those accounts. “How the hell would you know what kind of mood I was in?” I shot back, any hints of friendliness deserting me, as he stood there laughing. “I make it my business to know” he grinned as I raised my eyebrows.

  “Why?” I asked, my curiosity piqued by his strange statement. “I like to keep ahead of the competition” he smiled. “I like to know when I’ve got you rattled Smith”. Arrogant, arrogant prick I screamed inwardly, shoving off the ice pack and wincing in pain as I stood. “You might like to think you’ve got me rattled King, but the truth of the matter is I give you very little thought at all”.

  I gasped as he picked me up with strong muscular arms, laying me gently back on the soft couch, elevating my ankle and securing the icepack once again. “I don’t think that’s true” he winked “now be a good girl and stay there”. God this man knew which buttons to press to rile me. His patronising comments had fuelled my irritation up to epic levels, not helped by the fact that I realised he was partly right. I pushed the icepack off and stood again, biting my lip against the initial sting of pain and looking him squarely in the eyes as he chuckled gently. “Thank you for your assistance King, I’ll be leaving now”. I struggled towards the door, trying to remain calm as he rounded me, stopping me in my tracks and moving in, way too close for comfort. I stood my ground. “See you on Monday at the best buddy pitch Smith” he smiled. Great, that was all I needed I thought, hobbling back excruciatingly slowly to my apartment.

  I was hoping Katie might pop in to save me from a dull weekend of elevating my leg and watching old movies, but she was visiting home for her sisters 21st birthday, and despite the kind invitation, I hadn’t fancied a weekend bar hopping around Chesterfield, which in my case, would actually have been quite literal. We’d held each other up many times, but it usually only occurred at the end of the night. God knows what carnage would have ensued with a group of feisty twenty somethings if we’d actually started out that way. So I stayed at home, utterly bored and gorging on cake, brightening slightly as I watched a re-run of Annie the musical and thinking how I was not surprised it had been banned in my childhood.

  Thirty lonely children praying for a Daddy Warbuck’s to end their misery would not have been an easy thing for our carers to contend with, I laughed inwardly. I omitted the fact that I’d bumped into King, and she hadn’t been forthcoming about any details regarding last night so I hadn’t pushed it, kicking myself now as my curiosity was fuelled. I felt sure she’d tell me eventually, and sat back reliving the strange events of the morning and my second run in with Jason in as many days. Why did I even care? I mused inwardly, telling myself I wasn’t that curious after all, it could wait until Monday.

  Chapter 2

  By the time Monday morning came, my ankle was slightly better but I would still have to wear flats which wouldn’t go with the killer power outfit I’d bought specifically for the presentation. My stomach was churning in anticipation. I needed to nail this pitch and win this account, to placate my boss and even more importantly, to wipe the smug grin from the face of the competition. I spent an age getting ready, keen to look my best, confident and in control despite the fact that I didn’t feel it, and the thought of seeing Jason King this morning sent butterflies erupting through my stomach in a strange display of nerves that was disturbingly unfamiliar.

  I checked with the receptionist and from the way she flushed and
giggled, I knew instantly that he was ahead of me. I sipped at the glass of water I’d been offered, taking deep breaths, reviewing the key points of the presentation, and trying to calm myself down. The boardroom door was closed and the blinds were shut, revealing nothing of what was going on inside, but as I heard the laughter when the door opened, my heart sank. If he’d done it again, my professional ego would find it pretty hard to recover. The thick solid oak closed behind him as he walked over, grinning broadly, which served only to earn me an envious glare from the pretty, young, red haired receptionist. He sat next to me silently on the white leather couch, lifting my leg over his knee and running strong hands under the fabric of my trousers and over my damaged ankle, as I gasped audibly. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I all but shouted, firm hands continuing to stroke my skin, sending delicious shivers through me and igniting the nerves beneath them, as I stared at him slack jawed.

  He held my gaze, his soft touch still exploring the tender flesh, running his tongue lightly over his full bottom lip before speaking in a tone that was the absolute opposite of my own. “I’m seeing how the ankle is Smith” he smiled, finally removing his hand from my leg, before picking it up gently and placing it on the floor. My wicked side was screaming at me to get my caressed leg right back up there. My logical brain slapped the thought down, in no uncertain terms. It was a long time since I’d been touched like that and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but this was Jason King for God’s sake.

  “Good luck with the pitch” he rose, smiling down at me as I glared at him, irritated, frustrated and utterly rattled. He was doing this on purpose. My eyes followed him to the elevator, trying to regain my composure and focus on the job in hand. As he turned, staring at me through the open metal doors, I noticed the small smirk playing around his mouth that grew into a huge blazing grin as I angrily flipped him the bird. Two can play at this game I thought, as the receptionist called me into the boardroom.