King's Rule

by Jackie Ashenden

  A guilty secret...

  ...gives way to guilty pleasures!

  Reformed con man Xander King and his stepsister, Poppy, both sense the electric chemistry between them. So when they start working together, it’s not long before meetings in the boardroom become steamy trysts in the bedroom! But Xander’s hiding a secret about the death of Poppy’s father and the guilt is tearing him apart. Will Xander’s dark past ruin it all, or is their red-hot passion fierce enough to redeem this King?

  Jackie Ashenden writes dark, emotional stories with alpha heroes who’ve just gotten the world to their liking only to have it blown wide apart by their kick-ass heroines. She lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, the inimitable Dr. Jax, two kids and two rats. When she’s not torturing alpha males and their gutsy heroines she can be found drinking chocolate martinis, reading anything she can lay her hands on, wasting time on social media or being forced to go mountain biking with her husband. To keep up-to-date with Jackie’s new releases and other news, sign up to her newsletter at jackieashenden.com.

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  If you liked King’s Rule, why not try

  Forbidden to Want by JC Harroway

  Playing with Fire by Rebecca Hunter

  First Class Sin by Cara Lockwood

  Also by Jackie Ashenden

  The Knights of Ruin

  Ruined

  Destroyed

  The Kings of Sydney

  King’s Price

  Discover more at Harlequin.com

  KING’S RULE

  Jackie Ashenden

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Forbidden to Want by JC Harroway

  CHAPTER ONE

  Xander

  I HATED POPPY VALENTINE.

  First there was her name. I had no idea what her mother, Lily, had been thinking at the time. Poppy as a first name was fine. Valentine as a surname, also fine. But together? Showy. A name for a burlesque dancer not an actual person.

  Just my opinion naturally, but it made me cringe every time I heard it.

  Second, she was my stepsister. Right from the very first day Dad had introduced her to me and my two brothers, Poppy had been nothing but rude. She’d been ten to my fifteen and snarky as hell even then. I’d been unfortunate in that Dad had chosen me to look after her, and she made no bones about how unimpressed she was with me in particular and the King family in general.

  Again, fine. I was unimpressed with her and her attitude.

  Third, all that snark and sarcasm was wrapped up in the most phenomenally beautiful package. She had a cloud of curly black hair that looked as soft to the touch as the barbs she spat out were sharp; skin that looked in some lights like deep gold, in others like polished bronze; eyes the colour of molten copper coins and killer curves designed specifically to drive a man to distraction. Not that I’d noticed. At all.

  Fourth, I needed a personal assistant and even though she was the very last person in the world I wanted to hire, it was starting to look like I had no choice in the matter, since no temping agency in Sydney wanted to work with a King.

  My father, Augustus King, had headed the biggest crime empire in the city before his arrest five years ago, and it had taken years for my brothers and me to drag our name out of the mud.

  Even the three of us running a totally legit property development company hadn’t absolved us in the eyes of the people of Sydney. Even my brother Leon marrying Vita Hamilton, the daughter of one of their favourite philanthropists, hadn’t redeemed us.

  No, apparently we still had a way to go.

  I was okay with that. We’d been getting rid of the remains of our father’s empire, sniffing out and sweeping away the last of his lies, and even though we weren’t there quite yet, we would be.

  Not being able to get and retain good staff was simply a minor irritation.

  Of course, the fact that no one wanted to work for me might also have had a little something to do with my reputation as a cold, ruthless bastard, but that was beside the point.

  I didn’t want to hire Poppy, full fucking stop. But I needed someone. Someone I could trust wasn’t in league with our enemies—and there were plenty of those still around. Someone who wasn’t still hoping for my father’s return and wanting to curry favour.

  Poppy might not be my first choice for a PA—or even my last, to be fair. But one thing I was sure of was that she had nothing to do with Augustus King’s empire.

  I didn’t trust her, but she was someone I didn’t trust the least.

  Not that I had any choice in the matter, considering the distinct lack of other candidates.

  Now Poppy was sitting at the head of the boardroom table in the King Enterprises Sydney offices—in my oldest brother Ajax’s seat, no less—with her damn feet kicked up on the top of it, leaning back, hands behind her head. Humming. Like she was bored.

  Christ, the woman had no fucking respect.

  To make matters worse, the skinny jeans she wore outlined the luscious shape of her long legs and she had on a little black T-shirt with some punk band logo emblazoned across it, and the way she was sitting made the fabric pull tight across her full breasts...

  Fifth on my list of things I hated about her was the fact that I wanted to fuck her. And it didn’t matter what she said or what she did, how unimpressed, snarky, sarcastic and downright rude she was, I still wanted to fuck her. Badly.

  Which didn’t only make me angry, it actively enraged me. I wasn’t a man who let either emotion or my libido get in the way of good sense and logic, but Poppy Valentine seemed to have a direct line to both and tweaked them at every opportunity.

  Like now, for example.

  I stared at her from my place down the other end of the table, ignoring how much I wanted to take hold of one insolent booted foot and haul her down over the polished wood and into my lap, to teach her the consequences of such disrespect.

  But, naturally, I didn’t.

  She was my stepsister and one of the last orders my father had given me before his arrest was that I was to take care of her and her mother. That neither of them wanted to be taken care of was another thing that constantly irritated me.

  I was a man of my word and I fulfilled my promises. Even to the man who’d lied to me and everyone else constantly throughout my childhood. So I would take care of her, and that meant not touching her.

  Not that I would anyway. I preferred women who didn’t go out of their way to infuriate me.

  ‘You don’t appear to be taking my offer very seriously,’ I said coolly, pleased that my control on my temper was apparently sound.

  She ignored me, continuing to stare up at the ceiling, tapping one foot in time to some unheard music.

  The woman appeared to have a death wish.

 
And then I saw, in the cloud of her dark hair, a flash of white.

  Jesus. She was wearing earbuds.

  She’d come to this meeting—a meeting she’d agreed to, or so my stepmother had assured me—and had deliberately chosen not to listen to anything I said.

  My temper pulled at the leash I kept on it, but I ignored it.

  Anger was never productive. In fact, passion in general only led to lies and misunderstandings and other...difficulties. My father was a case in point, having provided a lesson I could never afford to ignore.

  Calmly I pushed back my chair and rose, coming around the table to where Poppy was sitting. She didn’t look at me, clearly not noticing what I was doing.

  Good.

  I stepped behind her chair then leaned over her at the same time as I lifted my hands to grip the wires of her earbuds. Then I yanked them out of her ears.

  She blinked, beautiful copper eyes looking straight up into mine.

  And for a second I thought I caught a glimpse of something that wasn’t disdain or contempt or anger in them. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.

  But then she blinked and whatever it was had gone.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I kept my tone ice-cold.

  ‘Listening to music—what does it look like?’ She didn’t seem bothered that I’d caught her not paying attention. Which was almost as infuriating as the way the smoky quality of her voice got under my skin.

  ‘You’re supposed to be listening to what I have to say. That was the whole point of this meeting.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘When you have something interesting to say then I’ll listen. So far, all I hear is dull.’

  The way I was leaning over her had brought us very close and I could smell her scent, something sweet, like jasmine. An odd choice for a woman so sharp and spiky.

  I also found it intoxicating. Another thing I hated about her.

  ‘How do you know it’s dull if you can’t hear it?’ I wanted to sink my fingers into the soft curls that cascaded over the sides of the chair and tighten them. Hold her there. Make it so she couldn’t move.

  Make it so she can’t do anything but beg.

  ‘I don’t need to hear it.’ Her gaze held nothing but challenge. ‘It’s you. Everything you say is dull.’

  It was obvious that she wanted me to fight back, to give her a response of some kind. But, no matter how much I wanted to, I never obliged her.

  ‘There’s an architectural firm in London,’ I said, playing the ace up my sleeve. ‘I hear you’re quite interested in working for them.’

  That wiped the insolent look off her lovely face.

  As it should. I’d done my research. Before you engaged with any enemy, you found out all you could about them, their strengths and their weaknesses. Most especially their weaknesses. And I’d discovered Poppy’s.

  Her mother had let slip that she’d been angling for an internship at a prestigious London architectural firm, and that she wanted it quite desperately. Which was fortuitous since I knew the owner of said firm rather well.

  Leverage. And I had it.

  Poppy scowled. ‘Could you stop looming over me? It’s pretty damn annoying.’

  So. Lily hadn’t been lying. Apparently Poppy was very interested in working for them.

  Satisfied, I straightened then coiled up the earbuds and put them in my trouser pocket.

  Her jaw hardened and I could tell she was debating whether or not to demand them back.

  I saved her the trouble. ‘You can have them once I’ve finished.’

  ‘They’re mine.’

  ‘I don’t care. This is a business meeting and I don’t have time for your sullen teenage dramatics.’

  ‘You’re an asshole.’

  ‘And you’re a bitch. Glad we’re clear on where we both stand.’ I moved back down to my seat and sat, folding my hands on the table in front of me.

  Her gaze met mine, anger sparking in the molten copper depths. She hadn’t bothered to take her feet off the table, deliberately keeping them there, and I had no doubt it was to mess with me.

  Well, I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. ‘Now that I have your attention, are you ready to listen? Or shall I have Security show you the way out?’

  She leaned back in the chair, putting her hands behind her head once more. This time, she kept her gaze on mine. ‘Okay,’ she said, as if it wasn’t a big deal. ‘Mum said you had some kind of wonderful offer to make me. Let’s hear it then.’

  As if I was the one who’d come to her and not the other way around.

  Really, it was a constant mystery to me why my cock was so interested in her when the rest of me couldn’t stand her. And it wasn’t just because she was beautiful.

  There was something about the way she continually challenged me that I found...exciting. And I wasn’t sure why that was, since I’d never had that reaction to any other woman before.

  I would never understand it.

  ‘I need a PA,’ I said, getting straight to the point. ‘The last one I had left yesterday and I can’t operate without one. However, I’m having difficulties finding someone who’ll work for a King.’

  ‘Can’t think why that might be,’ Poppy murmured. ‘Oh, wait. Could it be all that crime? Or no, maybe it’s just because you’re a prick.’

  ‘It’ll be for a month,’ I continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Until I can find myself a permanent replacement. The hours are long, but you’ll be well recompensed and—’

  ‘No.’

  It wasn’t often that people interrupted me. In addition to having a reputation for being a cold and ruthless bastard, I was also infamous for giving people one chance and one chance only. If you screwed up you were out, no questions and definitely no argument.

  It wasn’t personal. It was simply business. Time was money and if there was one thing I hated to waste it was money.

  I wasn’t the CFO of King Enterprises for nothing.

  ‘I haven’t finished,’ I said coldly.

  ‘You might not, but I have.’ Shoving her chair back, she got to her feet and sauntered around the table, heading towards the door. ‘You can keep the earbuds.’

  I let her get all the way to the door.

  Then I said, ‘I’ll tell Ms Jordan that you’re not interested in an internship then. I’m sure she has a few other candidates lined up so I don’t imagine she’ll be too concerned about losing you.’

  Poppy had her hand on the door handle, her back to me, all ready to leave.

  Silence fell.

  ‘You’ve spoken to Ms Jordan?’ This time her voice was devoid of her earlier disdain.

  I would have smiled if I’d been a different man. But I wasn’t and I’d had enough of this stupid game.

  ‘Yes,’ I said flatly. ‘She’ll agree to the internship on one condition. That you get a good reference from me.’

  Poppy’s shoulders tensed, but still she didn’t turn. ‘Why is that necessary?’

  ‘Because I told her it was.’ I stared at her stiff figure, the rigid tension in it at odds with all those soft curves. ‘Now, are you ready to sit down like a good girl and listen to what I have to say?’

  CHAPTER TWO

  Poppy

  I DIDN’T WANT to turn around because I knew what I’d see: satisfaction plastered all over Xander King’s stupid, handsome face.

  I hated him so much. Hated him.

  How had he known about that internship? Who’d told him? There was only one person I’d mentioned it to and...

  Dammit. Of course. Mum. She was always interfering. And she’d always had a soft spot for Xander, God only knew why, and she would have told him if he’d asked.

  I should have known this demand for a meeting would have come with strings, because there were always strings when it came to m
en. Nothing came for free with them. I only had to look at my mother to understand that.

  Are you ready to sit down like a good girl...?

  A shiver chased over my skin, the way it always did whenever he spoke in his cold, deep voice. With that hard note of authority, the one that hooked deep into something inside of me. A part of me I loathed.

  God, I didn’t want to look at him. I hated looking at him.

  But I’d spent years telling myself I didn’t care about him in the slightest, and so I forced myself to turn around, to arrange my expression into one of complete boredom.

  Yet, no matter how much I told myself I didn’t care, I felt it the way I always did, the intense gut-punch of his presence.

  He was a King and he carried himself like one, as if he ruled the whole city and everyone in it. The chair he sat in was his throne, the boardroom his throne room, the King employees his courtiers who paid homage.

  All the King brothers were charismatic and Xander certainly had his share. Something to do with his height, broad shoulders and long, lean body, showed off to perfection by the tailored dark grey suit he wore.

  His features were hawkish, all sharp planes and angles. He had straight black brows and deeply set black eyes, coal-black hair that he kept cut ruthlessly short and a straight classical nose. He was a study in darkness—intense, coldly beautiful and incredibly compelling. His air of complete and utter confidence mesmerised me. Yet the part of him that fascinated me the most was his mouth. Because though his face was hard, his mouth was not. There was a sensuality in the curve of his bottom lip that hit me hard every time.

  I shouldn’t look at that mouth. I shouldn’t look at him.

  I shouldn’t shiver every time he was near. I shouldn’t notice that he was even a man at all.

  But, God help me, I did. And I loathed him all the more for it.

  Especially now, when he was holding something I very much wanted over my head.

  ‘Are you deliberately being a bastard or were you born that way?’ I kept the question light, ignoring my racing pulse. ‘No, wait. I think I can answer that one already.’