King's Price

by Jackie Ashenden

  He smiled that breathtaking smile again. ‘You shouldn’t get comfortable with me, Vita. And you damn well shouldn’t trust me.’

  The words were offered so casually I almost didn’t understand. And then I did.

  ‘Why not?’ I asked, even though I didn’t want to know. ‘Why shouldn’t I trust you?’

  ‘You know what kind of man I am.’ His gaze didn’t flicker. ‘I’m dangerous. I don’t like being vulnerable and I hurt people who make me feel that way.’

  My throat had gone dry, but I refused to admit it was fear. ‘You won’t hurt me.’

  ‘Never physically, no. But you don’t know me. And you don’t know what I’m capable of. I might not use violence these days, but I use every other trick in the book to get people to do what my brothers and I want.’ He paused, his gaze searching mine. ‘I could use that video of us last night, for example.’

  He won’t.

  The thought was instinctive and I accepted it without question. If he’d genuinely been going to use it he would have uploaded it first thing this morning, not threatened me with it first.

  ‘But you won’t.’ I put all my certainty into the words. ‘Because if I thought for a second you would, I wouldn’t have given it to you.’

  His smile faded. ‘You don’t know—’

  This time it was my turn to put my finger over his beautiful mouth. ‘You’re trying very hard to convince me you’re some kind of monster, Leon. And I don’t know why.’

  He put down the scone, gently wrapped his fingers around my wrist and tugged my finger from his mouth. ‘As I was saying,’ he went on as if I hadn’t interrupted, ‘I’ll never willingly let anyone have power over me ever again.’

  Again, the whisper of cold foreboding that I’d felt last night settled inside me, though I wasn’t sure why.

  ‘I understand that,’ I said. ‘After what happened to you, I wouldn’t either.’

  ‘No.’ His voice was quiet. ‘You don’t understand. Once you’ve survived a world like my father’s, protecting yourself becomes automatic. Instinctive. Because you can’t ever let your guard down and you can’t ever trust.’

  ‘Yes, I get it.’ I studied him. ‘But you trust me, right?’

  His golden gaze darkened. ‘I can’t, vixen. Not even you.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Leon

  VITA STARED AT ME, her dark eyes wide. She was dressed only in my shirt and had a smear of flour on her cheek and a scattering of it in her hair. She looked like she’d wandered off the set of a feel-good movie starring an adorable baker heroine.

  I had no idea what such a creature was doing in my kitchen, baking scones and getting flour everywhere, reminding me of happier times in my childhood and making me confess all kinds of ridiculous bullshit.

  And the confessions kept on coming, things I’d never told anyone. Such as how all I’d wanted was a normal family. How I wasn’t to be trusted, no matter what she thought of me.

  How I would never—could never—trust her.

  Her black eyes were very direct, very bright. ‘Then why did you tell me all that stuff last night?’

  ‘Because you wanted me to. Because you asked.’

  She was silent for a long moment. ‘You’re trying to push me away, aren’t you?’

  She knew. She wasn’t stupid.

  ‘It’s a warning,’ I said. ‘Don’t get too close, sweetheart. And don’t mess with me. I’m one experiment that might just blow up in your face.’

  She bristled. ‘I’m not messing with you. It’s not my fault scones bring back memories you don’t like.’

  I’d offended her, as I’d meant to. As I’d intended. But I didn’t feel pleased with myself. I felt ashamed.

  All she’d done was bake her scones then shyly tell me about her love of baking, her eyes lighting up with pleasure as she’d done so.

  ‘Baking is just chemistry’, she’d said and I could see how that worked. It made me wish I’d woken earlier so I would have been able to watch her as she’d bustled about the kitchen I never used, mixing up her ingredients and creating those chemical reactions.

  But that shouldn’t be happening between us. She shouldn’t be getting me to tell her things I’d never told anyone else. Things about myself that should stay buried. Sex was all it was, not whispered confessions and sweet kisses, and baking in the morning.

  So yes, I wanted to push her away. I wanted some distance between us because it felt like she was cracking the armour I wore, putting little chinks in it, weakening it.

  I couldn’t let that happen but...I didn’t like that I’d offended her. It made something deep inside me ache.

  ‘I’m not a child,’ she went on, her expression fierce. ‘Yes, you did some bad things, and yes, you’re ruthless. But I know that already. I mean, come on, Leon. Manipulating me into this marriage thing was kind of an indicator that you’re not exactly pure as the driven snow.’ A crease appeared between her brows as if something she hadn’t thought of suddenly occurred to her. ‘Actually, you were honest about that. And you didn’t have to be.’

  Christ. Next she’d be telling me what a hero I was.

  I pushed the scone I’d pulled apart towards her. ‘Why don’t you put some butter and jam on this for me?’

  One reddish brow rose imperiously. ‘Excuse me?’

  I met her gaze, steeling myself to do something I hardly ever did. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said and, possibly for the first time in years, I meant it. ‘I know you’re not a child. I just...don’t want you to get hurt.’

  Since when did you start caring about her feelings?

  She blinked as if I’d said something unexpected. ‘I won’t get hurt. I can take care of myself.’

  ‘Like you took care of yourself with Simon?’

  She flushed. ‘I was only seventeen. And I’m not seventeen now.’ Reaching for the scone I’d pushed in her direction, she began to butter it. ‘Anyway, you and me, it’s just sex. That’s what we agreed.’ Carefully, she wiped the knife then began to spread the jam, then added, half to herself, ‘A chemical reaction, that’s all.’

  She was right. That was exactly what we had. Nothing but chemicals.

  So why do you still ache?

  But I ignored that too. ‘No more questions.’

  ‘Okay, no more questions.’ She lifted the scone towards me. ‘But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk, right?’

  ‘We can talk,’ I agreed then leaned forward and bit into the scone she held.

  It was the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten in my life—apart from her.

  She watched me as I chewed then swallowed, her gaze drifting to my mouth.

  ‘You’ve got...’ She reached out to swipe away the cream on my top lip.

  I grabbed her wrist, licked the rest of the cream from her finger then drew it deep into my mouth, stroking it with my tongue.

  Her lips parted, her dark gaze becoming even darker as she watched me lick her finger.

  ‘The scone was delicious,’ I murmured roughly against her skin. ‘But you taste even better.’ Taking her finger from my mouth, I pulled her towards me. ‘And I’m done talking. Care to experiment with another kind of chemical reaction, vixen?’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Leon

  ‘DO I REALLY HAVE to try these on?’ Vita’s voice drifted from down the hallway, sounding exasperated. ‘You’ve left this rather late.’

  I smiled at her annoyed tone, settling back against the couch cushions and glancing towards the doorway.

  I’d had some wedding gowns from an exclusive bridal salon sent to my penthouse for her to try on, and, yes, I’d left it late given that the wedding was only a couple of weeks away. The rest of the organisation was in the capable hands of the wedding planner and the King Enterprises corporate events team and I was confident they’d be ab
le to pull it off to the specifications I’d given them.

  Not that I’d given them many since I didn’t really care how the wedding went. As long as it was big, that was all that mattered.

  I’d planned the same thing for the wedding gowns, thinking to pick one at random for Vita to wear since, again, it didn’t really matter what she wore.

  Then I’d changed my mind, uncomfortable with the thought of her wearing something she might not like or that may not suit her.

  I didn’t think about why it was important to me that she liked her gown. I pushed that particular thought right to the back of my head.

  I wanted her to like it, end of story.

  A sigh came from the bedroom and I was very tempted to go in there and help her into the gown myself. Though that would probably end with us both naked and the gown on the floor. Which wasn’t the point of the exercise.

  I shifted on the couch, trying to ease the growing tightness in my trousers. The sweet scent of the chocolate chip cookies she’d baked earlier was still in the air, reminding me of how I’d laid her across the kitchen counter and licked melted chocolate off her body.

  My cock liked that memory very much indeed.

  ‘Hurry up, vixen,’ I muttered. ‘You’re creating a problem.’

  ‘What problem?’ Vita asked.

  My head snapped up and there she was, standing in front of me, wearing the first of three gowns. This one had a fitted bodice and frothy skirts, with a thousand crystals sewn everywhere, glittering like stardust.

  And my heart did a strange thing. It felt like it...turned over.

  She looked like a princess.

  ‘What—’ I had to stop and clear my throat, unable to speak. ‘What do you think?’

  Vita put the veil she was holding on her head then turned to the full-length mirror that I’d had brought in and set up opposite the couch.

  ‘It’s heavy.’ She kicked at the skirts, frowning. ‘All these crystals are a bit much.’

  We both looked at her in the mirror.

  ‘You look...lovely,’ I said, unable to get rid of the husky edge to my voice.

  Colour swept over her face and she gave me a smile that made my heart turn over yet again.

  ‘Thank you.’ She smoothed the skirts. ‘But I feel like I’m wearing a suit of armour. I don’t think it’s really me.’

  ‘It is you,’ I said. ‘You look like a princess.’

  Again that smile. I could barely keep my hands to myself.

  God, what the hell was wrong with me? It was only a wedding dress for a wedding that wasn’t even real. It didn’t mean anything.

  ‘Try on the second one.’ I kept my tone brusque, looking down at my phone so she couldn’t see my face.

  I heard her leave the room while I went over some work emails. Or tried to. Difficult when every sense I had was tuned to the sound of her in the bedroom, trying on the second gown.

  I wasn’t ready when I heard her come back in.

  I wasn’t ready when I lifted my head to look at her.

  This gown was more fitting than the previous one, the skirts slimmer. There were no crystals, but there was a long train that spilled out behind her like trailing foam from a wave.

  If she’d looked like a princess in the first gown, in the second she looked like a queen.

  Desperately, some part of me tried to find the angles and plain features of the woman I’d met in the nightclub a couple of weeks earlier. But I couldn’t find her. She was gone.

  All that was left was the goddess in front of me.

  She seemed oblivious to me staring at her like a fucking idiot, turning around to look at herself in the mirror again.

  ‘This one isn’t as heavy. But the train is a pain in the neck. I won’t be able to walk anywhere.’

  ‘You look amazing.’ I tried to be casual, yet the words were somehow difficult. ‘But yes, I wouldn’t want anything getting in the way. Especially not when the time comes for me to claim my wedding night.’

  She glanced at me in the mirror and I realised what I’d said. And what it meant.

  A wedding night. We hadn’t talked about that. About what we would do in those few months of ‘blissful wedlock’ before I left the country. Initially, I’d assumed I’d leave her to her own devices, but now... Would our wedding really be our last night together? It made sense to end this affair between us there. Both for my own sanity and hers. Though, how ironic. A marriage was supposed to signify a beginning, not an end.

  Vita said nothing, but the light had dimmed in her dark eyes. As if she’d had the same thought and it had made her sad.

  It makes you sad too.

  I gritted my teeth, my jaw aching.

  ‘Try on the last one,’ I said roughly. ‘That one doesn’t have a train.’

  She nodded and disappeared back down the hallway again.

  I got out my phone once more, gripping it tightly. Yet more emails and this time all wedding-related. Fuck, I didn’t want to answer them. All I could think about was whether or not I’d insist on our wedding night as our last night together.

  It had to be. Because afterwards I’d be leaving and never coming back.

  You want to stay.

  I scowled at my phone. No, I didn’t want to stay. I couldn’t. There was nothing for me here but my brothers, and they didn’t need me. Xander had his numbers and Ajax his thirst for vengeance. While all I had were orders—and someone else’s orders at that. I hadn’t been my own man when Dad had been around and I still wasn’t my own man now.

  I had to go somewhere else. Start a new life where my past didn’t matter. A life I chose, not one that was forced on me.

  But that’s not the life you want.

  My chest constricted, an ache sitting just behind my breastbone, the dreams of long ago replaying in my head. Dreams of a normal family, with a husband and wife and their children. No violence. No blood. No crime.

  You could have that with her.

  I blinked, the ache inside me deepening.

  Scones in the morning with coffee. And a lovely woman with auburn hair and flour on her cheek, wearing my shirt and smiling as she wiped cream from my lip. Blushing as I licked it from her finger then drew her close. Telling me that she trusted me...

  No. It was a life I’d never had. A dream that wasn’t meant for me.

  Because to have it I’d have to care. I’d have to take my armour off, be vulnerable and give the power to someone else. And I couldn’t. Caring was the end of you. The cut you couldn’t heal from. The real torture.

  All those cigarette burns, those knife wounds, they weren’t the things that hurt. The agony came from knowing no one had come for me, not even my own father. I was expendable, unneeded. My life not even worth the ransom money they’d tried to extort from him.

  I would never leave myself open to that again.

  I heard her footfall as she came back and this time I waited before I looked, pretending I was more interested in what was on my phone to cover the beating of my heart and the rush of blood in my veins.

  ‘Leon,’ she said.

  I had to force myself to look.

  The third gown was the simplest of all. It was ivory satin that followed her every curve, the same way I followed them with my hands every night. The fabric gathered at one shoulder in a Grecian style before falling gracefully down her back.

  In the first two gowns she’d looked like royalty, like a fairy tale.

  But in this one, all simplicity and elegance, she looked like herself.

  Bright. Passionate. Honest.

  My heart didn’t turn over this time. It stood still.

  She’d taken her hair down and it curled over her shoulders in an auburn tumble, and I could see exactly how she should wear it for the wedding. Either loose or in a long braid, and there should be f
lowers woven through it, simple white flowers to accentuate the lovely colour.

  ‘What about this one?’ she asked, hesitant.

  She wanted me to like it, I could see by the look on her face.

  The reply I’d been going to make—something dismissive to hide my own reaction to her—died unsaid. I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

  It’s too late to protect yourself. Too late to pretend you don’t care.

  I shut that voice off. Hard. Then I put my phone away and I got up from the couch. And I moved over to where she stood, letting my gaze roam over her, from the top of her red head down to her feet, lingering on my favourite places—her breasts, her hips, the swell of her thighs and her elegant calves and ankles.

  Then I lifted my attention to her face, staring into her dark eyes, watching those stars twinkle brightly in the velvety blackness.

  She could be yours. Your wife. You could have scones and coffee and her. You could have the family you always wanted.

  My heart twisted painfully.

  I’d met many dangerous people in my life, but suddenly I knew that the woman standing in front of me right now was the most dangerous of the lot.

  She had the power to destroy me if I let her.

  ‘Yes.’ I fought to keep my expression neutral. ‘That’s the one.’

  She blushed, giving me a smile that had my heart restarting, battering against my ribs like a prisoner trying to escape a cell.

  ‘I think I like it.’ She turned back to the mirror. ‘It feels much lighter and it’s easier to move around in.’

  It was difficult to speak. Like someone had their hand around my throat and was squeezing.

  To cover my reaction, I took the end of the length of fabric that fell down her back. ‘I wonder what would happen if I pulled this...?’

  ‘Don’t you dare.’ She moved away, then turned to give me a mock stern look. ‘It’s not our wedding night yet.’

  All she was doing was standing there. With bare feet and her hair loose around her shoulders. Dressed in ivory satin.