King (Vegas Kings Book 2)

by McKenna James

  “Why do you say that?”

  I shrug, still trying to be as casual as I can. “Doesn’t she handle the talent?” Maybe she hasn’t been ghosting me. Maybe she’s too wrapped up in trying to fix this situation, and she hasn’t had a chance to respond to me.

  “Yeah, once we have them. I normally do the bookings, though,” he says, popping my ballooning hope without a second thought.

  “Maybe we can help each other out, then,” I suggest, hope still trying to blossom against the odds.

  Jack’s interest is piqued, brows raised.

  One more shrug. I can’t look too eager. “You seem to be lacking talent, and I’m lacking a venue…”

  “You’re not suggesting…?”

  “Why not?”

  “I thought you wanted us to kill you before you’d ever take up a residency.”

  “Vince is only going to be in rehab a week or two, tops. That’s hardly a residency. It’s just a couple shows while I’m still in town. But I do still need a manager… Think Piper would be up to it?”

  “If you’re saving us from an empty stage? Hell yes, she’ll do it,” Jack says, chuckling. “I’ll tell her the good news. She has seemed a little testy lately, to be honest.”

  I hold my breath while Jack calls his sister.

  He barely gets the idea out before I can hear her yelling at him through the phone. There’s no mistaking her calling him crazy and controlling, and even people from other tables start to look over. Jack makes a face, confused and annoyed, and holds up a finger, excusing himself from the table, talking in hushed tones as he moves toward the door.

  So much for the good news.

  “Is he leaving?” Ace asks, taking a seat after crossing paths with Jack. He looks like he just rolled out of bed—or maybe he hasn’t even been to bed yet. It’s impossible to know with a professional poker player. He doesn’t have normal hours; if he’s on a hot streak, he’ll stay at the table all night and day.

  “No, just needed to make a call,” I say, leaving out all the details. The less I say about Piper, the better. I don’t trust my face to not give me away. “Glad you decided to join us.”

  Ace shrugs, looking over the menu quickly. “Told you I’d be here.”

  “Long night?”

  He grunts. “I have a flight out to Monte Carlo tonight for a tournament. I’m trying to stay up so I can sleep when I get there. How long are you in town for?”

  “Who knows,” I answer, swirling my drink.

  Ace frowns. “New album not doing good?”

  “No, it is. Better than expected, thanks to a couple of commercial licenses on one of the singles; just logistics issues.”

  “Bummer,” he says, flagging down a waitress.

  “I don’t mind laying low for a little while,” I admit. I’m actually kind of glad Vince is an idiot. Otherwise, I’d probably be getting ready to leave for my first gig of the tour, no chance at all to bridge the divide between Jack and Piper.

  Not that it seems like I have much of a chance as it is. Jack doesn’t look like he had much success when he comes back into the restaurant, his expression dark.

  I don’t ask. With both of them here, I’d rather keep conversation far away from the subject of Piper.

  If Jack can’t convince her, I’ll have to do it myself. I don’t know how when she seems determined to do everything she can to avoid me, but I’m not giving up. Not yet. Not without a fight.

  Chapter 3

  Piper

  “I don’t need excuses right now. I need you to do your job, or I’m going to find someone who can, got it?” I barely hold in a sigh when I see the sheen of tears gathering in the poor girl’s eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am, of course,” she answers meekly, looking down toward the floor as she backs out of the dressing room.

  “Me-ow, Tiger Lady,” Graham says, glancing back to the hall as he slips through the doorway. “What’s gotten into you today?”

  My sigh breaks free, and I give him a look that says I don’t want to talk about it.

  “Nothing.”

  He sucks his teeth, skeptical. “Are you sure? Because everyone’s talking about the rampage you’re on, and I’m pretty sure I saw a dancer literally run the other way when someone mentioned your name.”

  I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Is it that bad? I have a lot going on right now.”

  “Oh? Do I sense gossip?” he asks, clasping his hands together, an excited grin splitting his face.

  “My brother’s being a pain in the ass,” I mutter, but my heart’s hardly in it. It’s not really Jack who’s being a pain—it’s King.

  Who the hell does he think he is, going behind my back and using Jack to get close to me? I tried to argue that Jack can’t commit me to another job without consulting me, but in the end, I didn’t have a good reason why King shouldn’t fill our empty stage.

  At least not one I could tell Jack about, and King knows that. He knew I’d be stuck between a rock and a hard place, and he still went through with it. Was it really that hard to respect my wishes?

  Or Jack’s?

  Because really, Jack’s the reason King and I can’t happen. It would destroy their friendship if Jack found out we'd slept together, and I can’t be responsible for that. I’d never be able to live with myself.

  I don’t know how King can be so carefree about it all. Jack’s been warning him off of me for years. I never thought it was necessary. I always figured King flirted with me because I was there, and he couldn’t help himself. But now I wonder how much Jack’s overbearing presence deterred him.

  I’m just flattering myself. There’s no way King has been lusting after me for years. He saw an opportunity after the show the other night and took it. The only reason he’s still pursuing me is because I’m not falling all over him, and his ego can’t stand it.

  “I thought he’s been a lot better since meeting that cute little Blackjack dealer,” Graham says, tidying up the dressing room on compulsion. He’s the head make-up artist for all the shows here at The Grandiose. He’ll be a lot busier in the evening, but this time of day, he’s only here to supervise the prosthetic applications for our cirque performers. Plenty of time to be idle and gossip, which isn’t really what I need right now.

  Any other time, any other fling, I’d definitely tell Graham all about it, but King? Not a chance. I am not breathing a word of it to a single soul. The moment I open that barrel of monkeys, I might as well just tell my brother everything.

  “Yeah … mostly,” I agree. “It’s just management bullshit,” I finally say. Graham hates hearing about the boring administration part of my job; it’ll throw him off the scent.

  The deflection is completely unnecessary, though, because we’re interrupted by a timid knock on the doorframe.

  “Um … Miss Stapleton?” comes a meek voice I can barely hear.

  Graham’s trying to hold in an ‘I told you so’ smirk, and guilt gnaws at me. I really try to be a decent boss. I don’t want to earn a reputation for being a cobra-woman.

  Maybe I have been taking my frustration out on the wrong people. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly before I answer in my most even tone.

  “What is it?”

  A giant bouquet of flowers walks through the door, dwarfing the spooked stagehand behind it.

  “These came for you,” he says.

  Graham’s jaw drops, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets as they dart between the lush flowers and me.

  I snatch the card away before he can.

  “Set them down anywhere,” I mutter, opening the card, my hand trembling too much to hide.

  Looking forward to working together, the card says. There isn't a name, but there’s a little doodle of a crown that I recognize from King’s autographs, and I roll my eyes.

  Of course. He just had to rub it in, didn’t he?

  I’m ridiculously annoyed by his perseverance, but under the seething irritation, there’s something even wo
rse: nervous excitement. I kind of can’t wait to see him again, even if it is too dangerous to be smart.

  I still haven’t actually agreed to letting him take our empty stage and being his manager for a couple of weeks, but at this point, it seems inevitable. King isn't going to give up, and the more I fight it, the more suspicious Jack is going to get.

  “What’s that about?” Graham asks, trying to peer over my shoulder at the card. I close it before he can recognize the little signature.

  “Nothing,” I answer unconvincingly.

  He folds his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? Why are you holding out on me?”

  “I’m not,” I answer quickly. “It’s … complicated,” I groan, looking back at the flowers.

  They’re gorgeous. I wonder if King picked them out, or if he just tossed money at the florist.

  When was the last time a man sent me flowers?

  I don’t need to think about it. I haven’t exactly dated anyone since the fiasco that was Alejandro. Forget dating. I haven’t done anything with a man since Alejandro. Not until King handed me his hotel room key and tempted me to throw caution to the wind.

  Why does his voice always make me so horny? I’ve been to dozens of his shows, and it happens every time. How the hell am I going to keep it together with him performing here every night? Especially if he’s going to keep being so damn persistent…

  Luckily, there’s plenty of eye candy around here. A guy like King will find a new distraction in no time.

  Why doesn’t that thought make me feel any better?

  I don’t even know how long I’ve wanted to hook up with King—years, maybe decades. I still can’t believe it happened, that he wanted it too, and I know I should stop thinking about how great it was, but every time I see another text from him, there’s a warmth low in my belly and a tingle of anticipation between my legs.

  “Sounds juicy,” Graham says, pulling out a chair.

  “Piper?” Jack’s voice comes from the hall a moment before he walks through the door. “Oh, good. There you are. Do you have a minute?”

  I glance back to Graham, but he’s not budging. The look on his face says it all—he’s just missing the bucket of popcorn for the show.

  “What for? I have a million things to do.”

  “I want to talk to you about this King thing.”

  My heart stops. It slams on the brakes and crashes into my rib cage, making me forget to breathe.

  He knows.

  Damn it! King must’ve opened his big mouth. I made him swear. I’m going to kill him—if Jack doesn’t get to it first.

  “We have to book him,” Jack continues in the same breath. “We don’t have anyone for that stage, so he’d really be doing us a favor, and being his manager can’t be more work than the PR shitstorm of an empty stage would be, right?”

  There’s no time for relief when he has me backed into a corner like this. He might not know about me and King—yet—but how long will I be able to say that once we’re all in the same building all the damn time?

  “Jack, I already do a dozen different jobs around here—”

  “And you’re amazing at them all. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think you could handle it, Piper, but I know you can.”

  All these years he’s been hellbent on keeping his friends far away from me, and now he’s practically shoving us together. Too bad he can’t enjoy the irony.

  “Who are we talking about?” Graham asks. Jack looks surprised to realize we’re not alone, but he doesn’t miss a beat.

  “King Dorsey.”

  “Ooh, big draw,” Graham says.

  “Yes! Exactly. See?” Jack’s thrilled to have someone on his side. Outnumbered, there isn't much more I can do to argue my case.

  “If he gets in my way or takes up too much of my time—” I start, but Jack holds up his hand.

  “I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior. He won’t give you a hard time,” he promises.

  Oh, sweet brother, if you only knew…

  “Hey, who are those from?” he asks, finally spotting the flowers now that he’s accomplished his mission.

  “No clue.” I shrug. “I think it’s one of the costumers’ birthday.” The lie comes easily, but I can feel Graham’s eyes burning a hole in the back of my skull.

  “Is it? There’s probably a suite you could comp her if you want to earn some goodwill,” Jack says, off-handedly.

  “Yeah, sure,” I mutter, praying he’ll leave before Graham decides to blow my cover.

  “Anyway… Thanks. I know I should’ve talked to you before agreeing to all this. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in being the guy in charge of everything. I forget that you deserve just as much credit for the success of this place.”

  Damn it. It’s hard to stay annoyed with him when he’s being so nice.

  “I’m going to remember you called me amazing,” I point out, making him laugh.

  “I deserve that. I’m going to go call King, and we can all hash out the specifics later, okay?”

  I barely hold in a sigh. “Yep, sounds great,” I answer, only a tiny hint of sarcasm getting through.

  Jack leaves us alone again, and less than a minute later, Graham says, “If you give me that comped suite, I won’t ask any more questions.”

  “Done.”

  Chapter 4

  King

  A thousand designer shirts and jeans, and I still can’t figure out what I want to wear. There’s a heap of discarded options on the armchair, and I don’t feel any closer to an answer.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I never put this much thought into my clothes, not even for shows. But this is more important than any show I’ve played. After a week of dodging me, Piper and I are finally meeting face to face to discuss my gig.

  I can’t believe how nervous I am. It’s just Piper and Jack for Pete’s sake. Jack, I can handle. Piper’s another story. I know she must be annoyed that I weaseled my way into this arrangement, and I have to find some way to smooth it over.

  Of course, all the ways I can think of involve my face between her thighs, and I have a feeling that’s going to be a hard sell.

  Across the room, my phone lights up. It’s Jack, which makes me look at the time.

  “Hey, I’m on my way,” I answer. I’m typically pretty punctual, especially when it comes to work stuff, but I’ve been so in my head about picking an outfit that I’m almost running late. When did I become such a girl? I snatch up the nearest clothes, putting the debate to rest. I’ve worried about it too much already.

  “Cool. I’m not going to make it,” he says, a little breathless.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah… Something just came up,” he says, and by the edge in his voice, I think I know exactly what came up. Ever since Jack got with Ellie, a lot of things have been coming up. They’re always going at it like rabbits.

  I shouldn’t be jealous that my best friend has found love and happiness, but right now it feels like salt in the wound. A reminder of things I’ll never have.

  “Listen,” he says through gritted teeth. “Don’t be a dick to Piper, okay? She’s already pissed at me, and I promised her you wouldn’t be a problem.”

  I can’t believe he still doesn’t suspect anything, but I’ll take it. Ellie’s a very convenient distraction. This sort of thing normally wouldn’t slip his notice.

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll be good,” I answer, though I’m not sure it’s a promise I’ll be able to keep.

  “Cool. Thanks again. You’re really doing us a solid.” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat. “Okay, gotta go. Bye!”

  I don’t look in the mirror before I go. I’ll be trying on everything I own if I give myself another chance to second guess what I picked.

  At The Grandiose, I head up to Piper’s office, finding her at her big desk, her feet curled up under her, a pair of glasses I’ve never seen before perched on the end of her nose. She doesn’t spot me in t
he doorway right away, too engrossed in whatever she’s reading, and I take a moment to enjoy the view before I break the peace.

  Her reddish-brown hair is pulled back, a few loose pieces framing her face, looking more purposeful than disheveled. The only time I’ve ever seen Piper disheveled was the morning after sex. Even then, she was gorgeous.

  She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. It’s just enough movement that she catches a glimpse of me out of the corner of her eye and nearly jumps out of her chair.

  “Jesus, King! Why are you standing there like a creep?”

  “I just got here. We have a meeting, remember? Did Jack tell you he’s not coming?”

  “Are you serious?” she growls, shoving the papers aside and ripping the glasses from her face.

  Yep, she’s definitely pissed at me.

  “Don’t want to be alone with me that badly?” I ask innocently.

  She just glares.

  “Fine. We’ll do this without him. Sit down,” she orders, pointing at the chair across the desk from her.

  “Look, I know you’re not happy about—”

  “You’re damn right I’m not. But it’s too late to pretend you care now. We’re in this, so let’s just get through it. Ground rules: this is strictly professional. No treating me like your best friend’s little sister. No flirting. No messing around. Got it? If I’m going to be your acting manager, you need to respect that.”

  God, I love when she’s all fired up like this. When we were younger, it was funny to see how she’d get flustered, her face all red, eyes bright with tears she was too stubborn to let loose, but now she’s a force to be reckoned with. There’s no hesitation, no timidness, just hurricane-strength fury.

  “Yeah, sure, whatever you want,” I answer, trying to hold in my smirk. I don’t think she’d like that.

  “No; don’t ‘yeah, sure, whatever’ me. What I want is for you to not be in my face all the time, but that’s clearly not happening, so we’re either doing this my way, or not at all.”