King's Price

by Jackie Ashenden

  What if she doesn’t want you?

  Ah, but she did want me; I’d seen her response to our physical chemistry in her eyes. She might not like that she wanted me, but she did all the same.

  Noticing me staring at her, she flashed me a wary look. ‘What?’

  I gave her a wolfish grin, turning over thoughts of seduction in my head and not bothering to hide it. ‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.’

  ‘I’m not doing anything.’ She turned towards the entrance to the restaurant. ‘Come on. Let’s get this over with.’ Without waiting for me to respond, she strode purposefully towards the doors.

  She was definitely avoiding getting close to me.

  I followed along behind her, not minding one bit since it gave me the opportunity to examine her figure in greater detail than I had in the nightclub.

  Not that the unflattering black dress she wore allowed me to see it, but enough to get an impression of a narrow waist and a slight flaring of hips and thighs. I remembered the feel of those hips under my palms that night in the club, their slight roundness and heat. She didn’t have the abundant curves of her sister, but there was no hiding the fact that she was all woman.

  The maître d’ greeted us as we entered the restaurant and it amused me that Vita didn’t wait for me to speak. She gave the man my name and booking time as if she was the one who’d made the reservation.

  ‘Of course,’ the maître d’ said gracefully. ‘Come right this way. We have Mr King’s table already set up for him.’

  I’d requested the best table, one right in front of the big windows that looked out over the harbour. It was in full view of the rest of the restaurant too, so we’d be seen by the other diners. And, hopefully, the press.

  I’d put it out discreetly to various different contacts that we would be dining at Ocean tonight and with any luck that would get us a few pictures. Certainly we would once it became known I was having dinner with the ‘I Love You Girl’.

  That was the name the press had given her.

  After the maître d’ had showed us to our table he went to pull Vita’s chair out for her, but I waved him away and went to stand behind it myself.

  She gave me one of her wary looks, radiating discomfort at my nearness, but I ignored her, smiling and pulling the chair out, gesturing at her to sit.

  There was a moment’s hesitation then she visibly steeled herself and came to sit down.

  I looked down at her as I pushed her chair back in, the lights glossing the auburn in her thick, dark hair and making it gleam. I wanted to stroke it, see if it was as soft as it looked, and why not? She was my fiancée. I had every right to touch her.

  So I did, letting my fingertips brush the silky-looking strands. I was right—it was as soft as it looked.

  Vita stiffened, jerking her head around sharply and giving me a glare. ‘What are you doing?’

  I put my hands on the back of her chair and bent so our faces were close, an intimate posture. ‘We’re supposed to be madly in love,’ I reminded her quietly. ‘Which means you not jerking away from my touch and glaring at me.’

  Her dark gaze flickered. ‘You’re not supposed to touch me.’

  ‘You’re my fiancée. It’s going to look weird if I don’t.’

  She seemed to consider that. ‘I...guess so.’

  I paused, conscious of the people watching us. ‘You’re going to have to make it up to me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, you need to show the rest of the nice people watching that you welcome your fiancé’s touch and definitely didn’t mean to snap at him the way you did.’

  Again, her gaze flickered. Wariness combined with irritation, and perhaps a bit of fear.

  ‘I watched your video.’ I kept my voice low, looking into her eyes. ‘I watched the whole thing.’

  A tide of red moved over her pale cheeks and the brightness in the depths of her gaze dimmed. But there was no flicker this time. She was brave, I had to give her that.

  ‘Did you?’ Her voice was level, though I heard a faint wobble in it. ‘Well, thanks for that, but I didn’t need to know.’

  ‘There’s nothing in that video you need to be ashamed of. You were beautiful.’ I didn’t know why I was telling her this. Maybe it was all manipulation, to get her to do what I wanted. Or maybe it was simply that I didn’t like the fear in her eyes, because I knew what it felt like to be afraid.

  Her cheeks went scarlet and she looked down, silky reddish lashes veiling her gaze. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘So don’t. But remember, you were going to show them someone different this time around. You were going to be the one in charge.’

  She still didn’t look at me. ‘I am in charge.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You’re afraid.’

  That got a response.

  Her lashes flicked up, her dark eyes meeting mine. ‘I’m not afraid.’

  ‘Aren’t you?’ I stared back. ‘If you’re not scared, then why did you jerk away from me just now? And why aren’t you hell-bent on showing this whole fucking restaurant how wrapped around your little finger I am?’

  Anger gleamed in her expression, which was very satisfying, and that lovely, lovely mouth of hers went tight. She knew I was right and that pissed her off.

  Excellent. I’d take anger over fear any day.

  But I’d underestimated her.

  The next second she reached up, pushed her fingers through my hair and pulled my lips down on hers.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Vita

  KISSING LEON KING was a stupid idea and I didn’t know what possessed me.

  But the moment he’d mentioned that he’d seen that horrible video, where I’d been at my most vulnerable, something inside me had...changed. Hardened.

  Naturally he would have watched it. Why wouldn’t he? Everyone else in the history of creation had, so the fact that he’d seen it shouldn’t make any difference. Yet it did.

  He was so powerful, so dangerous, and so very beautiful. Everything that I wasn’t. And that made me feel vulnerable.

  My physical responses to him made me feel vulnerable too.

  I’d been telling myself it was all about the chemicals, but no amount of rationalising made any difference to the feelings that had swept through me as he’d touched my hair. I’d been achingly conscious of his nearness, of his scent and his heat. Of how long it had been since anyone had touched me and how I’d wanted him more than my next breath.

  I thought I’d got rid of desire long ago, but it was clear I hadn’t. It had only been sleeping. And now he’d woken it.

  And his challenge to show everyone in the restaurant how I’d wrapped him around my finger had been the perfect opportunity to show him that I wasn’t afraid.

  It had also been the perfect opportunity to prove to myself that this really was just a stupid chemical reaction, nothing more.

  So I’d reached for him, pushed my fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth down. But the last man I’d kissed had been Simon and that had been ten years ago, and kissing Leon King was nothing like that. Nothing like it at all.

  The second his lips touched mine, electricity coursed the length of my body, earthing through the soles of my feet. Intense, powerful and shockingly hot. The heat of his lips a flame brushing me. Scorching me.

  I was conscious of everything: his scent and how soft his mouth was compared to how hard and dangerous he appeared; how silky his hair felt between my fingers and how tall he was, bending over my chair.

  The kiss had been meant as an answer to his challenge and as proof to myself that this...chemistry was nothing. That it didn’t affect me in the slightest.

  But it did. And suddenly I was seventeen again. Nervous and excited, and desperate to touch the man I wanted. The man whom I wanted to touch me
in return.

  A lie.

  Remembered shame and humiliation flooded through me and I pulled away, turning to face the table once again, folding my shaking hands in my lap.

  My mouth was tingling, the echoes of that electricity pulsing through me, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

  It’s not just chemicals, is it?

  No, it had to be. Chemicals I understood and could manipulate. I did it every day in my lab. But these...feelings? I didn’t understand them and I didn’t want them. I hated them.

  I sensed him behind me, his presence a hot, muscular wall at my back, and I thought he might say something. But I didn’t turn and he remained silent.

  Slowly, I raised my gaze from my lap.

  His dark gold eyes were watching me from across the table.

  Electricity sparked again, a current that raised all the hairs on my body. But this time I pushed the feeling to one side and didn’t look away.

  The expression on his perfect face was difficult to interpret so I didn’t try. I didn’t want to know what he was thinking anyway.

  ‘So,’ I said acidly, ‘are we supposed to sit here and pretend we’re having a lovely time?’

  His beautiful mouth curled and I felt another spark light up inside me. I’d kissed that mouth. Me. Gangly, ginger, two-tablets-on-an-ironing-board Vita.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s exactly what we’re supposed to do. Why don’t you tell me about your job at the university? You said you were a research assistant. What are you researching?’

  Ugh.

  I tried to think of an alternative topic, but my mind had gone blank and I couldn’t think of a single thing.

  I fiddled with my napkin to stop myself from lifting a finger to my mouth and nibbling on it. ‘It’s difficult to explain to a layperson.’

  ‘Try me.’ His voice was level yet I had the impression that he hadn’t much liked being called a layperson.

  I frowned at him, trying to work out why he wanted to know. ‘Do you have a postgraduate chemistry background?’

  Once again that smile flicked. ‘No.’

  ‘Did you study science at university?’

  ‘I didn’t go to university, sweetheart.’

  ‘What about high school? Did you do any science at high school?’

  ‘My schooling was...patchy, let’s say.’

  A hint of curiosity caught at me. Did members of crime families even go to school? Not that I wanted to know. I wasn’t interested in him in the slightest.

  ‘I’m not sure I can explain it to you in that case,’ I said firmly. ‘You need a science background to understand it.’ Then, before he could argue the point, I asked, because men did like to talk about themselves, ‘Why don’t you tell me more about why the Kings are expanding into luxury apartments?’

  He stared at me for a long moment. Then he gave a soft laugh and sat back in his seat. ‘Fine. We can talk about me if you like, though it’s my brother Ajax who heads King Enterprises, and the luxury apartment market is his idea.’

  ‘So what exactly is your role?’ I asked, curious.

  A glitter of some emotion I couldn’t interpret flickered in his eyes as another of those dark, dangerous smiles curved his mouth. ‘I’m the PR boy. I get people to see things Ajax’s way. It’s not so different from what I used to do five years ago, but nowadays I do it with a lot less blood.’

  I could see he’d meant it as a joke, but the reminder of his past caught at me, hooked into my curiosity at the same time as it made me uncomfortable. What exactly did he mean by ‘a lot less blood’?

  I wasn’t sure what to say, but luckily the waiter arrived with menus so I was granted a brief respite.

  Leon decided on some wine and then there was a brief discussion about food. I wasn’t hungry, but I picked something at random from the menu.

  A few minutes later, the wine brought and served, we were alone again.

  ‘You’re curious, aren’t you?’ Leon’s voice was soft. ‘About my past.’ He was looking at me with that lion’s stare, a silent challenge. ‘You can ask. I don’t mind talking about it.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ I said firmly. ‘I’m not curious.’

  ‘Liar.’ He lifted his wine glass in his long, tanned fingers and idly swirled the liquid around in it. ‘Of course you are. But you don’t want to ask about it, do you? Why? Does the thought make you uncomfortable? Does violence make you squeamish?’

  I watched that dark gleam in his eyes. It looked like anger, which was odd. Did he really want to talk about that? Or was he simply pushing to get a reaction out of me?

  ‘Not really.’ I kept my tone neutral. ‘Maybe we should spend more time getting to know one another before we talk about your criminal past.’

  The gleam in his eyes became molten and for a second I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing, my heart squeezing in my chest as the tension pulled tight between us.

  I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye and a flash.

  A camera. Which meant there were press. Which meant people had noticed us. They’d noticed me.

  I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about it earlier—perhaps I’d been too busy worrying about Leon. Now I was all too aware of the purpose of this date: to show the world that we were a newly engaged couple who were deeply in love.

  The thought made my entire body go cold.

  It was all going to get dragged up again, wasn’t it? They knew my name and soon the media interest would intensify. And no doubt my video would start doing the rounds again. I could see the headlines now: The Return of the ‘I Love You Girl’!

  ‘Hey.’ Leon’s quiet voice somehow cut through the icy panic that was winding slow fingers through me. ‘Look at me.’

  It was a command, the note of absolute authority in the words making me obey him before I realised what I was doing.

  I met his gaze, felt the jolt as his focus zeroed in on me.

  ‘Don’t give them anything.’ The words were low, fierce. ‘Don’t give them your fear or your anger. Don’t let them see it. They don’t deserve it. This is your story, remember? You get to decide how it goes, not them. You’re the “I Love You Girl” and this time you’re getting your happy ending.’

  How he knew what I was thinking I had no idea.

  I had no idea why looking into his amber gaze or hearing the insistent note in his dark, rich voice felt reassuring either.

  Yet it was.

  And he was right. This was my story and rewriting it was why I’d chosen to do this in the first place. And all those people watching, all the media waiting, would have to follow my lead.

  I reached out across the table towards him, not really knowing what I was doing. But he seemed to, his fingers twining with mine on the white tablecloth.

  Electricity seared me at his touch, but I didn’t let go. The gold in his eyes felt strangely like a lifeline, as if with one moment’s inattention I’d drown in the panic that ran like an icy current through my veins.

  His thumb found my palm and he began to stroke it, a slow back and forth that made my breath catch and the light glitter on the flashy diamond on my finger. ‘So,’ he said softly, ‘you’ve got a very rich, very dangerous and possibly criminal man at your mercy. How does the rest of the story go, sweetheart?’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Leon

  IT WAS THE FEAR in her bright eyes that got to me, because I knew what that felt like. It had been years, yet I could still remember the bitter taste of it on my tongue. To be afraid, to be someone’s target.

  To be powerless.

  I didn’t want that for her. Not now, not here. And definitely not when her focus should be on me.

  Her palm was very soft where I stroked it, her skin warm. And her gaze was pinned to mine as if I was the only thing standing between her and certain death.


  It was...intoxicating.

  People usually looked at me with either fear or, depending on who they were and what kind of emotion I wanted from them, longing.

  No one looked at me as if I could save them.

  Unwanted emotion shifted in my chest and I knew I should let go of her hand, ignore the need to help her. But I couldn’t do it.

  She was bringing back memories I thought I’d left behind long ago. Memories of being terrified and powerless and utterly at someone else’s mercy.

  I’d only been fifteen when Thompson, an enemy of my father’s, had taken me. I’d been a kid, caught up in my father’s shitty, dirty world, and I’d paid the price for it. In blood. Christ, I even had the scars to prove it.

  This wasn’t the same situation, obviously, but I’d learned how to protect myself. Ajax had shown me. He’d taught me how to be the predator rather than the prey, the hunter not the hunted.

  Looked like Vita could have done with the same lessons.

  ‘How does the story go?’ Her voice was faint and husky-sounding. ‘I don’t know how to—’

  ‘Keep looking at me.’ I ran my thumb over her palm again, making sure I had her attention. ‘Don’t think about them. Think about the fact that I’m sitting opposite you, desperately in love with you. You have the power this time. You get to control what they see. So what are you going to do? How are you going to show them that the “I Love You Girl” has moved on?’

  She took a breath, her gaze searching mine as if I had the answers she was looking for.

  Luckily for her, I did.

  ‘Put your other hand under the table,’ I murmured.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Do it.’

  Slowly, she did so and I reached for it with my free hand. I kept stroking her palm where it rested on top of the table, while underneath I twined my fingers with hers and drew them to rest on my thigh. Then I held them down.

  The table wasn’t very wide so she didn’t have to lean far, but she stiffened as she touched me.

  ‘What are you doing?’ She sounded shocked.