King's Rule

by Jackie Ashenden

  The past week he’d placed me very firmly in the employee box and there he’d kept me—at least during working hours.

  Out of them...well, that was a whole other story.

  Ever since the night I’d gone to his apartment and he’d taken me so very thoroughly before breaking my heart with the story about the little dog he’d befriended, I’d known what I wanted. More of him. More of his dominance and his command. His attention and his care.

  More of my own power.

  It still thrilled me that he’d agreed to an affair, though he’d been as good as his word, setting out the employer/employee boundaries very firmly and not deviating from them one iota.

  During the day I was like a pot of water slowly being brought to simmer on a hot stove, getting hotter and hotter, the sexual tension between us drawing tighter and tighter.

  And when the day was done Xander would take me back to his apartment and I’d boil over completely.

  Every night he took charge of me and every night I let him, getting off on the pleasure that gave him.

  And afterwards, after we’d both come back down to earth, he took care of me in a way that made my heart curl up in my chest in absolute bliss.

  I’d never felt so treasured.

  Even my mother and her questions about where I was going and who I was seeing at night didn’t bother me. Of course I didn’t tell her what was happening with Xander. No doubt she’d want me to try and squeeze some more money out of him but there was no way that was happening. This was for me, not her and it was about my pleasure, not her survival. Not this time.

  One of the accounts staff abruptly came into the office with something for Xander to sign and I took it, wanting an excuse to go in and see him.

  I knocked once on his office door then, without waiting, I opened it and slipped inside.

  He was at his desk, frowning at his computer screen, the look on his strong, handsome face making my knees go weak.

  He’d had that very same look the night before as he’d put me over his knee, punishing me for the fact that I’d come back late from my lunch break.

  I’d done it deliberately, because disobeying Xander usually turned into quite a lot of pleasure for me and naturally I was a fan of that. He got so deliciously stern and dominant and hot. Last night he’d used his belt on me—not hard, just enough to sting deliciously—and it had been amazingly erotic. God, all he’d had to do was put his hand on his belt buckle and I’d been wet almost instantly.

  What is he turning you into?

  Shit, I didn’t care what he was turning me into. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that we were both getting something out of our weird little arrangement and that was enough.

  ‘What is it, Poppy?’ Xander asked, not looking up from his screen.

  Before, it would have annoyed me that he didn’t look at me, but I’d started to understand that while he was at work Xander gave his whole attention to whatever task he was doing, letting it consume him utterly and getting very annoyed when he was disturbed.

  It wasn’t personal in any way.

  Besides, I benefited from it since, after work, that very same attention would be focused entirely on me.

  ‘Something for your signature,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you. Leave it on the desk.’

  I did so, giving him a covert hungry glance from underneath my lashes.

  He looked good today, in a dark blue suit with a white shirt that drew attention to his black hair and midnight eyes, intensifying them, making them look even blacker than they were already.

  I loved those eyes. Loved the intense stare he gave me whenever he ordered me to do something, letting me know how much pleasure I gave him whenever I obeyed him.

  It was addictive.

  Damn, why wasn’t the work day over already?

  I turned to leave.

  ‘Wait,’ he said.

  I stilled then turned back to him, my heart thumping.

  This time he was looking directly at me, making my breath catch hard. ‘Did you want something?’

  Like a blow job from underneath your desk maybe?

  Xander took something from the drawer in his desk, placed it on the desktop then pushed it towards me. ‘I should have given this back to you a few days ago, but I kept it. It...interested me.’

  It was my sketchbook.

  A weird feeling clenched hard inside me.

  I’d forgotten he’d taken it. I’d forgotten so completely I hadn’t even thought to look for it. I hadn’t even remembered he still hadn’t given it back.

  Part of me wanted to snatch it back and hide it, but I stayed where I was. He’d had it for a couple of days now so of course he would have looked inside it. He would have seen all my drawings and sketches—seen the dream house I’d always wanted to build.

  He was looking at me now, those dark eyes studying me like I was a well performing stock portfolio. ‘Your drawings,’ he said quietly. ‘I thought they were fantastic.’

  I blinked, shocked for some reason. ‘You...what?’

  ‘I want to take them to Ajax,’ he went on, his gaze pinning me in place as surely as his lean, strong hands. ‘I want to show him some of your buildings. We’re developing some luxury apartments at the moment, but the architects haven’t been able to deliver us a design we like.’ He nodded to the book. ‘What you’ve got in there could be the thing we’re looking for.’

  The shock spread out, making me feel odd.

  My professors at university hadn’t been overly complimentary about any of my designs and my marks hadn’t been stellar. I’d done okay, but not brilliantly. Solidly middle of the road.

  I’d been fine with that. I’d just wanted to pass, that was all, get my degree and get a job doing what I loved, which was creating spaces for people to live in and enjoy. I’d never be a prodigy and that was okay.

  Yet to have Xander tell me that they were fantastic was...

  I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to ask him if he’d been looking at other people’s drawings somehow, not mine. That mine weren’t that wonderful and he must have been mistaken.

  ‘You...liked them?’ I managed to get out, my voice scratchy and not a little stunned-sounding.

  ‘Very much.’ He grabbed the book and flicked open one of the pages to the little home I’d designed for myself. The one that sat on the cliff above the sea. ‘Something along the lines of this. It’s amazing.’

  Much to my horror, tears pricked suddenly behind my eyes and I had to blink hard to clear them. And he must have seen because he rose to his feet, his frown becoming thunderous. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’ I turned away, trying to force down the intense burst of emotion that had flooded through me. ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  I should have remembered that he could move fast and silently when he wanted because, before I could say a word or move, I felt his hands close around my upper arms and he was turning me gently towards him.

  His dark gaze stared down into mine. ‘You’re crying,’ he pointed out relentlessly. ‘Why?’

  His touch made me shiver, heat pulsing through me. ‘It’s stupid,’ I said, feeling embarrassed at my reaction and hating myself for it.

  ‘Tell me what the problem is and I’ll tell you whether it’s stupid or not.’

  I didn’t want to tell him. It felt too exposing, like opening up my soul for him to read.

  And getting down on your knees and putting his cock in your mouth wasn’t exposing? Letting him turn you over his knee didn’t make you vulnerable?

  Yeah, but that was different. For some reason it was easier to make myself vulnerable physically than it was emotionally.

  Especially when it concerned my designs.

  Especially when it concerned that design.


  But Xander’s gaze was consuming, focusing on me the way he did, as if there was nothing and no one more important in the entire universe than me and my answer.

  It made me breathless, made the words spill out of me whether I wanted them to or not. ‘It’s stupid,’ I repeated. ‘Just...no one’s ever been interested in my designs before. I mean, my professors liked them well enough, but my marks were never that great. I was never one of those architectural prodigies.’

  His frown became even more ferocious. ‘Your designs are smart and subtle, and incredibly liveable. I can’t believe none of them ever mentioned that to you.’

  ‘Yeah, well, they didn’t.’ I swallowed, a flash of my old defensiveness lighting up inside me. Because really, since when did I need a man to validate me? ‘Are you sure you know what you’re talking about?’

  His eyes glittered. ‘Numbers are my forte, it’s true. But I know a good building when I see one and that house you drew, the one on the cliff, is a good building.’

  My throat felt tight, thick. It shouldn’t mean so much to me that he liked that house. I really shouldn’t care. But I did.

  His thumbs moved on my upper arms, caressing me absently, sending whispers of heat prickling along my skin. ‘That house. You drew it with care and great attention to detail. Why?’

  I wanted to dismiss it, to tell him it was nothing, just a drawing. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. ‘Because it’s...my house.’ The words were too raw, too full of emotion, and I wished I could take them back but, now they were out, all I could do was continue. ‘It’s the house I want to build for myself one day. A house that’s mine, where I...belong.’

  His black brows drew together, his gaze a black hole, drawing me in. ‘Why do you want to build a house?’

  ‘Remember you told me that you never had anything that was yours? Well, I never did either. I never had a place that was mine. Where I belonged.’ Perhaps it was stupid to tell him about things that mattered to me, to show him where I was most vulnerable. But then...he’d told me about his dog, about Seven. He’d told me about his lonely-sounding childhood, so maybe this would be okay. And maybe he’d even understand.

  I looked up into his eyes, staring at those beautifully carved features, so stern, like a god weighing the contents of my soul. ‘I was a mistake,’ I said quietly. ‘I told you that. I never belonged anywhere, never belonged to anyone. And when Dad died I was dragged into your family, yet another place where I didn’t belong and with a whole bunch of people I didn’t belong with. So I started drawing a house that was mine and only mine. And I thought that one day I would build it for myself and that I’d finally have a place for me.’

  Flickers of emotion passed over Xander’s face, gone too quickly for me to be able to tell what they were. ‘And that house you drew? That’s your dream home?’

  ‘It’s changed over the years. I’ve spent a while perfecting it, but yes. That’s my dream home...’ I trailed off, feeling self-conscious.

  But Xander only said, ‘You never felt like you belonged with us?’

  There was no reason to hide the truth from him. ‘No. How could I? I was so much younger than you all were and your father’s house... I liked it, Xander, but it wasn’t mine. Your family wasn’t mine either.’

  He was silent, never taking his gaze from my face. ‘You lost your home,’ he said eventually. ‘When your father died, you lost your home.’

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Because it was true that the only person I’d ever felt that close to was Dad, and when he died I felt like I’d lost my anchor.

  ‘He was a good father,’ I said. ‘He cared about me.’

  Except at the end, where he hadn’t. He’d left me all alone.

  Your fault.

  I ignored the whisper. I had to, for my sanity’s sake.

  There was a silence, something shifting in the space between us. Something uncomfortable and raw.

  Without a word, Xander let me go and turned, striding back around his desk to his seat. ‘Would you mind if I took these designs to Ajax?’ The intensity had drained from his expression, his gaze now guarded. ‘I’d really like for him to see them.’

  I felt cold all of a sudden, as if a door to a warm room had closed, cutting off my source of heat. And I found that my hands were clasping my upper arms, as if I was trying to capture and hold the warmth of his fingers on my skin. ‘No,’ I said. Part of me did mind, but I didn’t want to tell him that because that part of me was simply afraid of what Ajax might say. That he might not like my drawings after all.

  ‘Good.’ Xander sat down, his attention returning to his computer screen once again. ‘Do you have enough to get on with for the rest of the day? Or do you want me to find you something else to do?’

  I swallowed, unsettled and not quite sure why. Perhaps it had something to do with the abrupt way Xander had dug beneath my armour, finding a vulnerability I hadn’t expected him to root out and then examined it. Only to turn away as if he’d discovered nothing at all, leaving that vulnerability exposed like a raw wound.

  But I didn’t want to talk about it any more so all I said was, ‘I have plenty to keep me busy.’

  Then I left his office without another word.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Xander

  ‘THEY’RE GOOD.’ AJAX’S voice was deep and rough in my ear, and he sounded vaguely offended. ‘Fucking good. Why didn’t you bring her stuff to me sooner?’

  I turned, glancing over to where Poppy lay sleeping on my sofa. She was curled up, covered only by the soft grey cashmere blanket I’d found to throw over her. The fabric had fallen away from her shoulders and back, revealing the lovely curve of her spine and elegant shoulder blades. Her skin was golden in the half-light of the late summer evening filtering through the slatted wooden shutters.

  Beautiful.

  Mine.

  ‘Because I didn’t know she was that good sooner.’ I kept my voice down so I wouldn’t wake her. ‘So what do you think? She a possibility?’

  ‘Yeah, Christ. This could be exactly what we’re looking for.’ The sound of a car door slamming filtered through the phone. ‘I’ll email her tomorrow, ask her if she’s interested in getting some sketches to me.’

  That was Ajax. Once he decided something, he didn’t muck around.

  There was something warm in my chest, a certain kind of pride. In Poppy and her ability, even though it had nothing to do with me. I’d known those sketches were good the second I’d seen them in her book and clearly Ajax agreed.

  I couldn’t understand how her professors hadn’t spotted her talent. No, it wasn’t showy or industry changing; it was a far subtler thing than that. But that didn’t make her and her designs any less impressive. They were accessible and that made them gold when it came to building houses people actually wanted to live in.

  ‘Sounds good,’ I said. ‘I’ll let her know to expect an email then.’

  At that moment she gave a soft, sensual-sounding sigh, which was usually a prelude to her waking up.

  ‘Huh?’ Ajax muttered. ‘Sounds like you’ve got company.’

  Damn. The man had the ears of a bat. ‘See you tomorrow,’ I said and ended the call before he could say another word.

  I didn’t want to get into any explanations about Poppy just yet. There was no point, not when this was only temporary in any case.

  ‘Who was that?’

  I turned.

  Poppy was sitting up, the blanket wrapped around her, blinking at me sleepily.

  I moved over to the sofa, throwing my phone carelessly down on the coffee table in front of it then sitting down next to her. ‘Ajax.’

  She immediately climbed into my lap, settling herself in the crook of my elbow, her head against my shoulder. ‘Oh? What did he want?’

  My chest tightened at her easy familiarity. As if she had eve
ry right to curl up in my lap like a little cat. As if that was her rightful place.

  I slid an arm around her, holding her close, relishing the warmth of her lovely body against mine. ‘He liked your drawings.’

  She blinked then twisted to look up at me. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yes. He thought they could be just what we’re after for our new apartment complex. He’s going to email you about it tomorrow morning.’

  Wonder flickered over her face then it was gone, a shadow taking its place. She looked down at where my hand rested on her stomach. ‘That’s great.’

  I frowned. There was a flat note in her voice that puzzled me. ‘What’s wrong? You don’t want him to email you?’

  Poppy shook her head, her fall of silky hair brushing over my bare chest, tickling and soft. ‘No, it’s just...’ She stopped, one finger trailing over the back of my hand.

  ‘It’s just what?’

  Her finger began to trace an endless figure eight on my skin. ‘It’s great, don’t get me wrong. But... I don’t want anything given to me.’

  I stared down at the perfect lines of her lovely profile, not understanding. ‘What do you mean, given to you? I’m not giving you anything.’

  ‘You kind of are.’ She turned her head, shooting me a glance from underneath her lashes. ‘You’d never have given Ajax my book if we weren’t sleeping together.’

  ‘What?’ I had no idea where she was going with this. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘I’m just saying, I don’t want any opportunities given to me because of the fact that we’re sleeping together.’

  ‘This has got nothing to do with—’

  ‘Yes, it has. You’d never have seen that book if you hadn’t discovered me sketching in it. And you’d never have even looked at it, still less taken it to Ajax, if we hadn’t been sleeping together.’

  An uncomfortable feeling shifted in my chest and I scowled. ‘Bullshit. We weren’t sleeping together when I took it off you.’

  ‘No, but we were when you gave it to him.’ She shifted in my lap, twisting so she could look at me. ‘Would you have given it to him if I wasn’t your “fuck toy”?’