King's Rule

by Jackie Ashenden

  I clutched at the thought. Yes, I was sick of the way he kept putting me on the back foot. Time to take back the power.

  ‘A brat, huh?’ I took a couple of slow steps forward, making sure my hips had a sexy sway to them, getting right up close to him. Then I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. ‘I suppose that means I’d better start being a good girl.’ I reached out and hooked a finger around the knot of his tie, pulling at it gently. ‘Perhaps you could give me a few pointers?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Xander

  I STOOD VERY still as Poppy tugged on my tie, the slight pressure of it as tantalising as if she was tugging lightly on my cock.

  I had no idea what had made her suddenly step forward and get close, but whatever it was she had to understand that she was playing with fire.

  Her pretty eyes were glowing as she looked up at me through silky black lashes, and I could see the sheen of golden-bronze skin through the sheer fabric of her blouse.

  Give her a few pointers? Christ, she had no idea of all the pointers I wanted to give her. Or how I wanted to give them. Because if she had, she wouldn’t be doing something as stupid as getting in my face and pulling on my tie.

  What did she think she was doing? Was this a way to get back at me for how I’d made her go out and buy some decent clothing? And what did she think would happen? That I’d back away, stammering apologies like one of those earnest, intellectual university students she’d no doubt spent a few years dominating?

  I was a goddamn King. I didn’t back down and I sure as hell never apologised. And if she thought that a sexy hip-sway and tie-tweak would give her the last word, then she had another think coming.

  I was a patient man, but it wasn’t limitless.

  It was time to show Poppy bloody Valentine just who she was playing with.

  I reached out and slid my fingers gently around her throat.

  She stopped pulling on my tie, her eyes widening.

  Her skin was soft and warm beneath my fingers and I shifted my grip so my thumb was resting in the hollow between her collarbones, measuring her pulse.

  ‘You don’t touch me unless I give you permission,’ I said softly, letting an edge of warning bleed into my voice. ‘And I haven’t given you permission.’

  Those beautiful golden-brown eyes went even wider.

  I wasn’t holding her hard, just firmly enough to show her who was in charge, and it wasn’t my imagination that her pulse was getting faster. I could feel it against my thumb.

  ‘Take your hand off my tie,’ I ordered. ‘And if you’re thinking you’re going to spend all day teasing me with those perky little tits and that tight little ass, you need to think again. I’m not a man you want to play with, Poppy. Because the kinds of games I play, you’re not going to like one bit.’

  I should have known that challenging her was a mistake. I should have damn well known. But she’d scrambled my thinking processes so thoroughly that I’d thought getting tough with her would make her back off.

  It didn’t.

  Her expression changed in that moment, going from wide-eyed to determined in the space of a second. And instead of letting go of my tie she tightened her grip and pulled hard on it, tugging my head down at the same time as she rose on her toes, bringing her mouth to mine.

  Electricity crackled the length of my body, so strong that for a second I couldn’t move. Then desire swamped me, drowning me, the last shreds of my control burning to ash where I stood.

  Her lips were velvet-soft and warm, and I could feel her go rigid in the same moment that I did. As if she’d realised what a mistake she’d made.

  But it was too late. Too late for both of us.

  She’d started it and now it was up to me to end it.

  I shoved one hand into that soft cloud of black hair, twisting my fingers in it the way I’d so often imagined and yes, it was as soft as it looked, as soft as that beautiful mouth moving under mine.

  Pulling her head back, I took charge of the kiss, letting go my hold on her throat to push my thumb against her lower lip, getting her to open for me. And she did, making a soft sound as I slid my tongue into her mouth, tasting heat and sweetness. Hot chocolate on a cold day.

  She gave another moan, her grip on my tie getting stronger, her body arching into mine. I could feel the soft press of her breasts against my chest, the pressure of her hips pushing insistently against me.

  Desire wrapped its hands around my throat.

  You shouldn’t be doing this and you know it.

  Any second now I was going to turn her around and shove her over my desk, jerk that tight skirt up and pull her knickers down. Make her beg for me. Make her scream for me. Teach her that she couldn’t tease me, couldn’t manipulate me and expect me to take it like a good boy.

  You know how wrong this is.

  I did. Which meant I had to stop.

  It took everything I had to pull away from the kiss, but I managed to do it, keeping my fingers twisted tight in her hair to hold her still.

  She was panting, her eyes glazed with heat as she looked up at me, her mouth full and red, and abruptly I was so furious I could hardly speak.

  ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ I demanded thickly, trying to ignore how the fury inside me was twining with the lust, turning into something dark and potent and volatile as gelignite. ‘You think you can challenge me like that and get away with it? You think there won’t be any goddamn consequences?’

  ‘Sure. Why not?’ Her voice was husky and breathless. ‘You think I can’t handle those games? Maybe I can.’

  More electricity. More lightning. Flames in my blood, getting close to that fucking explosion. Getting too close.

  No, I couldn’t let it go off. I couldn’t let her do this to me.

  I’d made a promise to my father to take care of her and I’d made a promise to myself too. That I’d atone for what I’d done to her and her family. She didn’t have any idea why her father had taken his own life, but I did. I knew exactly.

  It was because of me.

  Which meant screwing her on my desk or against a wall...screwing her anywhere would be a mistake. It would be a fall back into the abyss I’d dragged myself out of and there was no way in hell I was doing that.

  I had to stay cold, stay in control, not let anything get under my skin.

  I’d come a long way from the kid who thought that if he did whatever his father told him—even ruin lives in order to fill his father’s bank accounts—then he’d finally earn that bastard’s respect.

  I never had though. All I’d done was destroy people, Poppy’s father included.

  The thought was cold water on my raging hard-on and this time it was easy to let her go.

  ‘No, you can’t handle them.’ I ignored the warmth of her skin that lingered on my fingertips. ‘Not that I’d play those games with you anyway. You’re my stepsister and my employee and, apart from any of that, I only play them with women who do as they’re fucking told.’

  Her soft mouth had hardened, a furious light once more burning in her eyes. And this time I knew what her problem was: she’d been into it and I was the one who’d rejected her.

  Desire stirred once again at the memory of her mouth under mine, at how quickly she’d opened for me, melted against me, pushed herself into me. At how fast her pulse had been beneath my thumb and the little moan she’d made as I’d tasted her.

  I shoved the memories away hard.

  No, fuck, I was better than this. If I wanted a woman to order around I had plenty of them in my little black book. I didn’t need this particular woman, no matter how challenging and passionate she was.

  ‘Fine.’ Poppy shrugged as if she didn’t care either way, though that angry gleam in her gaze told me all I needed to know about how she really felt. ‘Your loss. I don’t much like taking ord
ers anyway.’

  Like hell she doesn’t.

  I ignored that thought too.

  ‘Well, you’d better get used to it.’ I injected as much ice into my tone as I could. ‘Because that’s what this job is all about. Now, how about you sit down and I’ll run you through your duties.’

  It didn’t take long, mostly because I wanted her gone from my general vicinity.

  Once we were done, I showed her to her desk outside my office, left her with some instructions not to disturb me on pain of death, then I left, shutting my office door hard after me.

  It hadn’t been until the year before that I’d found out the truth about my part in Poppy’s father’s death. I’d known that actions I’d taken while still under my own father’s control had led to the downfall of more than a few innocent people, and in the five years since Dad had been jailed I’d made it my mission to track down every single one of those people and return to them the money Dad had used me to steal.

  Their names had been hidden, however, so it had taken me a bit of time to find them all. Poppy’s father had been the last one...and the most personally devastating.

  Financial ruin had led to his suicide, of that I had no doubt. And that made me responsible. I couldn’t change the fact that he was dead, but I could find the money Dad had stolen from him and return it to his wife and daughter.

  It was the only thing I could do, the only way I could think of to atone for my sins.

  I buried myself in work for the next couple of hours, trying to drown memories of her hot mouth and warm body in the long lists of financial transactions I had to go through, searching and searching for the one that I wanted. The one that would let me find the money her father had lost, that Dad had hidden. It was there, I knew it. All I had to do was find it.

  Going through those records was time-consuming and tiring, but I wasn’t going to let myself get distracted. I wanted this done and out of the way, and Poppy out of my life once and for all.

  Except that I found my mind kept wandering.

  It kept going back to her. Back to that kiss. To her soft hair and her sweet taste. Her passionate mouth and the sounds she’d made. The feel of her pulse beneath my thumb...

  Jesus, she’d kissed me. She’d had the gall to fucking kiss me. After I’d warned her not to play with me. Like I was a dog that she could show a tasty treat to, expecting me to lick her hand and beg to be stroked.

  Well, it didn’t bloody work that way and to show her I’d put my hand around her throat like a damn Neanderthal. Yes, I liked to be in charge in the bedroom, but I’d never held a woman like that before. Never put my thumb over her pulse simply to feel it go wild. Never had thoughts about punishing her or making her kneel before me and do whatever it was I wanted her to do.

  No, I’d only wanted to do that with Poppy. To Poppy.

  What the fuck is wrong with you?

  The print in front of me blurred, restlessness coiling in my gut.

  This wasn’t supposed to be happening. I was supposed to be concentrating on finding that money, not thinking about how much I’d like to fuck Poppy Valentine.

  Unable to sit for a second longer, I shoved my chair back and got to my feet, beginning to pace.

  Anger and frustrated desire burned like acid in the pit of my stomach.

  The sheer gall of the woman. Grabbing my tie and pulling me down. Flaunting her lovely skin in that sheer blouse and showing off the delicious curves of her ass. Like she knew how close to the edge I was and was determined to push me over.

  But she had no idea that I’d wanted her since she was eighteen or that I’d spent the last seven years fighting it. That I spent every torturous family gathering avoiding her specifically so I didn’t have her sulky, lovely face and perfect body anywhere near me. Or that when she decided to pick at me I had to slap back hard or else succumb to the need to shove her up against the nearest wall and have her.

  She didn’t know that I’d seen her swimming naked in the pool that day and that when she’d risen from the water like a goddess, the water glistening on her skin, something in me had said, Mine.

  She didn’t know that I’d spent years ignoring that voice. Because she was my stepsister and younger than me. Because she hated me.

  Because having something of my own was a weakness to exploit and my father was very, very good at exploiting those weaknesses.

  It was a line I’d not only drawn but engraved in fucking stone and wound around with barbed wire so I wouldn’t ever cross it.

  I never thought she’d cross it herself.

  Yet she had.

  And now I was fucking furious with her.

  I paused, scowling at the closed office door.

  She’d be out there right now, sitting at the desk in the waiting area, feeling so pleased and satisfied with herself that she’d managed to play me. Not realising that she’d managed to destroy years of iron self-control. Hell, she was probably already planning her next attack into the bargain.

  Fury settled inside me, hot, raw.

  Well, there would be no next attack. Because if Dad had taught me anything it was to strike first and strike hard. Take your enemy down before they knew what had hit them.

  Is that really such a good idea?

  But I was too angry to take any notice of the thought.

  I wanted Poppy to know what she’d done, to understand what she’d destroyed and just what the consequences of that were.

  And there would be consequences. By Christ, there would be.

  I opened my office door quietly and, as I’d thought, she was sitting at the PA’s desk in the waiting area, hunched over something on the desktop. There was no one else around.

  The desk was positioned in front of my office so she had her back to me. She didn’t turn around as I came out, completely absorbed in what she was doing.

  I moved up behind her silently, a little trick I’d learned from Ajax after finding out what my father had been doing with my talent for numbers. I’d never been overly interested in physical skills the way Ajax was, but after that I’d wanted to know how to defend myself, not to mention how to attack. Leon had told me that Ajax had taught him and so I’d wanted to learn. And he’d shown me all kinds of useful things. Such as how to stalk someone without them knowing you were there.

  Poppy remained oblivious as I came nearer, enough to see over her shoulder and catch a glimpse of what she was working on.

  It looked like she was...drawing something.

  She shifted in her chair, giving me a better look, and, sure enough, she was drawing what appeared to be a house in a hardcover notebook.

  The house was on the edge of a cliff with what looked like the sea beneath it and lots of trees all around it. But it wasn’t simply a picture of a house. There were plans too—floor plans. Sketches of rooflines and angles, accompanied with various measurements. On the page opposite were small photos that had been stuck in, of houses that looked similar to what she was drawing, inspiration pictures from the looks of it.

  For a second I forgot my anger, fascinated by that house.

  Numbers and money had always been my forte, but I’d been in the property development industry for five years and I knew a good building when I saw one. And I was looking at one right now.

  It was simple, functional and yet there was a certain clean elegance to it that appealed to me very much.

  Had she designed this? Was this her work?

  Then she moved again, a shift that drew my attention to the flare of her hips and the curve of her butt in the chair, and all my anger and fierce desire abruptly came flooding back.

  So, not content with playing me, she was now taking time out to draw when she should have been working. Had she finished the tasks I’d given her? I didn’t think so, not when I’d made sure to give her enough work for the whole day and then some.
/>   Clearly drawing houses was more interesting.

  Well, that wasn’t happening. Not on my dime.

  I closed the distance without a sound, putting my hands on the back of her chair and gripping it tight.

  Then I swivelled it around to face me.

  ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Poppy?’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Poppy

  XANDER’S VOICE WAS HARSH, his black eyes boring into mine. He was bending over me, six foot three of broad-shouldered furious male, his hands on the arms of my chair, caging me in.

  I couldn’t speak, shock still ringing through me, my heartbeat wild and out of control.

  I’d been so absorbed in drawing I hadn’t heard him come up behind me. But then that was what happened when I was designing—I tended not to be aware of what was going on around me.

  It was stupid to have taken out my sketchbook, but I’d finished most of the tasks he’d set me and thought I’d take a little time out to finish sketching the roofline on my house.

  It was the only way I could stop thinking about him and that kiss, and the feel of his warm fingers around my throat; about his mouth on mine, hard, demanding and hot; about the taste of him, rich and dark, like the spiced rum I’d stolen from Augustus’s liquor cabinet one night during a party.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded, fury pouring off him. ‘Explain to me why you’re drawing on company time.’

  I wanted to say something snarky, but my brain had temporarily short-circuited. He was so close, those long-fingered hands that had been around my throat now wrapped around the arms of the chair.

  His face was inches away, the planes and angles of it strong and powerful, fitting together so beautifully. A perfect structure.

  I wanted to touch it, run my fingers over his cheekbones and nose, his forehead and jaw, the deceptively soft curve of his bottom lip.

  Stupid. He was furious with me and I wasn’t sure why. Sure, I’d been drawing, but only for about five minutes, not long.

  Nothing to do with kissing him in his office, nope.

  But why would that have made him so angry? I shouldn’t have done it, responding blindly to the challenge he’d thrown at me, but it was just a kiss. A kiss that had shaken me down to my bones, yet surely not a big deal for him.