Текст книги "King of Hearts"

Автор книги: L. H. Cosway

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Six

The following morning, I got another call from Eleanor informing me she wouldn’t be in until after lunch, so I was responsible for the morning routine again. This time I felt more prepared. I had King’s breakfast and his newspapers on his desk when he arrived. Once Gillian had talked him through the upcoming meetings for the day, he very subtly signalled for me to come into the office. It piqued my curiosity.

Closing the door behind me, I walked over to the window as King perused a paper. I had no idea what he wanted to talk about, and he didn’t start speaking right away.

Perhaps he felt weird about the thing last night with his mum.

Glancing out and down onto the large open square beyond the office building, I spotted a new guy working the newsstand I’d been watching on the morning of my interview. A couple of customers came and went, but it was obvious that there was no longer any dealing going on.

King was still reading when I said, “Do you know there’s a new guy working the newsstand outside?”

The corner of his mouth shaped into a grin before he swung around in his chair, holding a pen to his mouth as he considered me. “Does anything get past you?”

I gave him a toothy smile. “Very little.”

He half-sighed, half-chuckled as he turned back to his desk. “I looked into the other guy after you mentioned him. Turns out you were right – he was dealing, so I got rid of him.” He paused, letting out a derisive chuckle. “Apparently, he was well known by traders around here, went by the name of Bernie Black.”

I was impressed that King had the kind of pull that he could get the guy removed just like that. I mean, he was obviously dealing for someone higher up, and this area would have been a highly profitable patch. Finally, I replied, “He actually told people his name? That’s kind of dumb.”

He stared at me sharply. “Think about it, Alexis.”

I did. Then it hit me, and I laughed. “Ah, so Bernie as in coke, and Black as in hash.”

“Now she gets it,” said King with the tone of a patient schoolteacher.

I narrowed my gaze at him. “Do you know anybody in the office who bought from him? Because they’re gonna be pissed when they find out he’s gone.”

Glacial eyes flicked up. “There’s a few I suspect, but they’ll just have to deal with it. It’s a lifestyle a lot of people who come to work here fall into. If you’re good at what you do, you can make an enormous amount of money in the blink of an eye. These people make that money, and all of a sudden they’re buying expensive cars, luxury homes, and going out every night for extortionately priced meals. However, like you said yesterday, keeping up with the lifestyle and competing for all this money is also a big part of it. Competition equals stress, and when stressed, human beings seek a way to alleviate it. One of the main outlets for stress relief is drugs. Therefore, the City is a big market for dealers, especially since the people here have more than enough money to pay for what they want. It’s a hard job keeping tabs on who’s dealing and where, especially since I’m always so busy, so I have to thank you for the heads-up.”

The warmth in his gaze made me flush. “It’s no problem.” What he’d said made me curious, so I went on, “What do you do to deal with the stress?”

He gave me a wan smile, and there was something in his expression that struck me as sad somehow. Rubbing at his chin, he answered, “Hmmm, when I’m stressed out…a nice glass of top-shelf whiskey usually does the trick.”

“That makes sense,” I said, and walked around his desk before taking a seat in front of him. “You know, I always thought it was poor people who did drugs, to escape the bleakness of their realities. Now I’m thinking maybe the practice is most common at the top and the bottom of the ladder. Perhaps the best place to be is somewhere in the middle.”

“Not necessarily. I’m at the top. Do I look high to you?”

The deadpan way in which he said it made me laugh. I leaned forward and teased, “I’m not sure. Let me have a look at your pupils.” Surprising me, King rose from his seat, walked around his desk, and came to kneel in front of me. Before I knew it, his face was mere inches from mine.

“Go ahead,” he said, voice low.

Whoa, Oliver King’s face right up close…I wasn’t sure what to do with that. I guess he didn’t realise the effect he had on this very non-gay lady, because he seemed entirely unselfconscious. His eyes were beautiful, his lashes long and golden, his skin smooth with a hint of stubble around his jaw, and his lips were just…I had no words. Sculpted and masculine was probably the only way I could think to describe them.

I realised I was staring at those lips a little too closely when my eyes flicked back to his. A moment ago he was smiling, but now that smile was transforming into a thoughtful frown.

I cleared my throat. “Your pupils look fine.”

King exhaled a small breath, and I watched as his attention went from my eyes to my cheeks, nose, chin, and then finally to my lips. He looked like he was about to say something when suddenly Gillian’s voice filled the room.

“Mr King, Jenson Gellar is on the phone. Shall I put him through?”

My heart beat wildly before I realised she wasn’t actually there. She was talking through the intercom. I watched King swallow, smooth down his shirt, and then rise to a standing position. Walking to his desk, he hit the button to reply to Gillian.

“Keep him on hold. I’ll pick up in a moment.”

“No problem,” she answered, and then the room was silent again. Whatever had passed between King and me, he seemed to be trying to push it from his mind.

Unable to stand the quiet, I asked, “So what did you want to see me about?”

I ran my hands over my skirt, noticing how King’s eyes lingered on the movement for the barest second before he brought his gaze to mine. Another beat of silence passed, and my throat grew dry. Had he been…? I felt like maybe he had a thing for my thighs, because I’d caught him staring at them a number of times now. A moment later, he deftly set two newspapers down in front of me, each open on a different story. “Read both of these.”

I cocked a brow. “Why?”

“Just read them, and then I’ll tell you why.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

He shook his head at my response and brought his attention to the phone. Picking up, he immediately began chatting a lot of numbers to the guy on the other end, while I tried to concentrate on the newspaper articles. Both were about different companies. One was a silicone manufacturer who had just announced an expansion to its production facilities. The other was a start-up for a new social media website. I read each of them to the end and was done before King was finished with his call. Glancing up, he noticed I was finished reading, and reached for a pad and pen. Still holding the phone to his ear, he scribbled something down, then passed it to me. It read: Which of the two companies would you invest in?

I pondered the question, unsure as to why he was asking me this. Did he need advice, or was it some kind of a test? Looking back at the articles, I tried to come up with an answer. Grabbing King’s pen and paper, I began to write down a pros and cons list, and noticed his lips twitch when he saw what I was doing. All of a sudden, I began to wonder if I was some sort of amusement to him, or maybe a pet project. The thought disgruntled me, but I was determined not to let him see it. I’d told him at the end of my interview that I’d show him I had brains, and now I needed to prove it.

Five minutes later, he hung up the phone and turned to face me. Clasping his hands together, he asked. “Well, have you decided?”

I sat up primly. “Yes.”

“And?”

“I’d choose the social media start-up.”

“Elaborate.”

Had it gotten hotter in here all of a sudden? My throat was feeling unusually dry. “Well, silicone is clearly a good investment, because let’s face it, plastic surgery gets more and more popular year on year, and it doesn’t look like it’s going away any time soon. It’s the safe choice if you don’t factor in the possibility of a replacement being created that works better. However, the sky’s the limit with the social media thing. It has the potential to go anywhere. And yeah, it’s more of a gamble, but if it succeeds, the rewards could be huge.”

King leaned forward, looking pleased. “So, let’s say you’re me and I’m my client. I come in and I want invest in either the social media start-up or the silicone manufacturer. You’d advise me to go for the social media?”

Narrowing my gaze, I nodded.

He smiled. “All right. That will be all.”

“That’s it?”

“I have a very busy day ahead of me, Alexis, but I hope to see you at lunch for our game of chess.” His easy dismissal irritated me, and I felt like he was being sneaky.

“King, this was all hypothetical, right?”

The look he gave me when I called him “King” made my knees a little bit weak. He clearly liked it, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d essentially given him an affectionate nickname, or if he just enjoyed being referred to as an all-powerful ruler.

“And if it wasn’t?”

“I’m only an assistant. I know virtually nothing about investing. You shouldn’t be using my advice in any kind of real life dealings.”

Now I had his full attention, and he seemed annoyed with me. “Alexis, I have heard more intelligence from you in two weeks than I have from some of the people I work with in an entire year. Never underestimate the value of your decisions.”

I swallowed. Blinked. Couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Never in a million years had I expected him to say something like that. And then I felt tears prickling in my eyes. It was such a huge compliment, and I wasn’t used to those. I needed to get out of there before I embarrassed myself. Not saying a word, I gave him a sober nod, turned, and walked out of the room. Despite what I’d proclaimed about having brains at the end of my interview, I suddenly realised that when it came down to it, I didn’t really believe I could do very much with them. King’s compliment showed me that I needed to seriously rewire the way I thought of myself.

For the next two hours, Gillian kept giving me furtive glances. She clearly wanted to know what King had talked to me about. I gave her nothing. Not only was the woman a flirt, she was also a gossip, and I didn’t want her spreading rumours of me getting preferential treatment from my boss. Not that it had been particularly preferential, but I got the feeling he didn’t often ask his assistants for business advice.

It was almost lunch when Gillian came to my desk and placed a small white envelope in front of me.

“This came for you,” she said, looking curious.

I glanced at the envelope and saw it had been addressed to me in pretty cursive handwriting. Opening it up, I found it was a note from Elaine King telling me she’d very much enjoyed my company yesterday, and that she hoped she’d see me again sometime. Wow. I definitely hadn’t been expecting this. I’d just finished reading it when I realised Gillian had been craning her neck and reading over my shoulder.

“You met Elaine?” she asked in a breathy, flabbergasted voice.

I shot her annoyed look before answering, “Yeah. Mr King had to cancel a visit and asked me to deliver some flowers to her house.”

Gillian’s eyes flared wide as she took a quick look at King’s office door to make sure it was closed. Her voice grew hushed. “Nobody around here has ever met Elaine. Rumours say she went mad with paranoia after something happened with a stalker, and Mr King keeps her locked away to hide the secret.”

For some strange reason, I felt the urge to cover for both King and his mum. “Well, she seemed normal enough when I met her.”

“Oh,” said Gillian, obviously disappointed. She was after a scandal, and I wasn’t going to give her one. Finally accepting there was no story to tell, she went back to her desk and resumed working. I read Elaine’s note once more, a warm feeling in my tummy to know that she’d liked me. It felt good to think I’d brightened up her day. Then I started to wonder about the stalker Gillian had mentioned. This tidbit definitely wasn’t common knowledge, since I would have read about it in the media. Given the state of Elaine nowadays, it could just as easily be true as it could be a rumour.

When my lunch hour came, I waited until Gillian had left the office to head into King’s bathroom. He wasn’t around, so I tucked into my packed sandwich and browsed my personal emails while I waited. As I did this, a text came in from Bradley. He had news about the photo shoot he wanted me to do. In a nutshell, he’d shown the higher-ups at the fashion house some photos of me from my Facebook page. They’d liked my look and wanted me to model. It all felt so glamorous and exciting. I was just reading through the details for the shoot, which was to take place on Saturday, when the bathroom door opened and King stepped inside.

“Started without me?” he asked, taking off his suit jacket to reveal a perfectly fitted white shirt beneath. I really needed to stop noticing these things about him.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, swallowing a bite as he neatly placed his jacket over the back of his chair. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.”

He arched a brow and then began unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt sleeves before rolling them up his arms. I didn’t know why he was doing it, since it wasn’t particularly hot in here. And really, I wished he wouldn’t, because I couldn’t take my eyes off his forearms. They were…yeah, quite pleasant to look at. He seemed to be hiding some sort of satisfaction when he nodded to my phone.

“Anything interesting?”

“What?” I glanced down, taken by surprise that he’d caught me staring. “Oh, right, yeah, actually. I was just texting my friend, Bradley. He’s setting me up with some weekend work.”

King’s expression was wry. “We don’t pay you enough here?”

I shook my head. “It’s not that. It’s more of a favour. He’s a fashion photographer, you see, and the label he’s working with at the moment need plus-sized models.” I paused and gestured to myself. “Hence, my involvement.”

He seemed both interested and amused as he leaned in. “You’re going to model?”

“Eh, yes, no need to sound so cynical.”

A small frown. “I wasn’t being cynical. I think you’d make a great model,” he said, and then his eyes seemed travel down my body, lingering on the flare of my hips emphasised by the pencil skirt I was wearing. “Fuck, you’d make a perfect model.” This last bit was said under his breath, and my skin began to tingle. Had he really just said that, or was I having a little mini daydream for a second? I needed to alleviate the tension his comment created, so I put on a haughty voice.

“Mr King, none of those F-words at the office, please.”

He chuckled. “My apologies. I sometimes forget you work for me. You’re so easy to get along with that you feel more like a friend.”

“Aw, shucks, thanks.” I grinned at him and took another bite of my sandwich. Well, that was kind of sweet. He seemed oddly sheepish about his admission, and picked up the lunch I’d ordered for him. It was now my job to order his meals from the local health food café each morning and schedule them to arrive by one. I swear, the man ate a diet straight out of Men’s Health magazine, all eggs, lean meat, and fresh vegetables. And there was me thinking bankers subsisted on a strict regime of coffee, steak, and whiskey. Maybe that was the ’80s Wall Street stereotype talking.

“So, you’re working on a shoot this weekend?” King asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I come and watch?”

I gaped at him. “Are you serious?”

“Of course,” he said, and pulled out his phone, fingers swiping over the screen.

“What are you doing?”

“Cancelling an afternoon tea party I was supposed to attend so that I can accompany you to your photo shoot.”

“You’re not coming.”

He frowned and gave me this sad little puppy-dog pout that I swear made my ovaries wake up and say hello. The man was unfairly good-looking.

“Come on,” I said, “you have to admit it is weird that you want to come to this.”

Now he looked sceptical. “Will there be other women there who look like you?”

“I presume so….”

“You see? It’s not weird at all. I enjoy looking at women, especially ones who are interested in cocks rather than vaginas.”

I couldn’t believe he’d just said that. I also couldn’t resist the urge to give him a scare. Glancing over his shoulder, I said, “Oh, hi, Gillian. Were you looking for me?”

King’s complexion instantly paled, and he went utterly still. I burst out laughing as he turned and found the doorway empty. “Oh, my God, the look on your face. That was priceless!”

“It was cruel.” He scowled at me, but I could see the smile he was trying his best to hold back.

“It serves you right for talking about cocks and VJs at the office. I bet you don’t say stuff like that to Eleanor.”

“Eleanor is old enough to be my mother.”

“And what am I? Chopped liver?”

“You,” said King, voice low and gravelly, “are the perfect age to be hearing words like that.”

On instinct, I licked my lips, and his eyes zeroed on it. Why oh why did he pay such close attention to the small details? It was too much, and the lesbian façade I’d been putting up was slowly beginning to crumble. If he kept giving me looks like that, he’d figure out sooner or later that I was lying, because my body language practically screamed my attraction.

He kept on staring at me, and I knew he was waiting for me to give in.

“Fine, you can come, but no manhandling the other models. I know what you Cambridge types are like. Frisky.”

He laughed. “If by ‘frisky’ you mean uptight and socially awkward, then you know us very well indeed.”

“Are you seriously using the words ‘uptight’ and ‘socially awkward’ to describe yourself? Because if you are, you’re fooling no one.”

King tsked. “I’m not talking about myself. I’m talking about the kind of people I went to school with. I was lucky to be born with natural charm.” He flashed me a cocky grin.

“Self-professed charm is no charm at all.”

“You find me charming.”

“That’s true. I find you about as charming as an ’80s sex comedy.”

King laughed loudly at my put-down, strangely seeming to enjoy it, and began eating his lunch while eyeing the chessboard.

“So, are we going to finish this game or what?”

We did.

And this time, I came out the winner. We were at a draw.

Oliver King: 1. Alexis Clark: 1.

Seven

The following morning I walked into the office, sensing an odd vibe in the air. It wasn’t long before I discovered the reason. It was B-day at Johnson-Pearse.

And no, that wasn’t B-day as in birthday. That was B-day as in Bonus Day. Apparently, investment banking, along with the vast majority of jobs in the financial sector, orbited around yearly bonuses. And those bonuses were announced at the start of each calendar year. I’d always read about this sort of thing in the newspapers, where left-wing journalists would criticize banks for giving out exorbitant bonuses to their employees while the rest of the country suffered one of the worst recessions in decades. I had to agree with the journalists; it was pretty fucked up. That still didn’t stop it from happening, though, and now I was getting to witness it all first hand.

It soon became apparent that everybody wanted to achieve a larger bonus than the one they got the year before, which accounted for the nervous tension. Nobody wanted to get a small bonus, because that meant they were losing at the game of making more money than everybody else.

I learned all of this from Eleanor as we worked together to complete our morning tasks. She’d been very happy with the way I’d handled things during her absence, and was confident I was going to make an excellent replacement after she left. Her confidence in me gave me a boost.

The hours until lunch passed busily. The way things worked on B-day were as follows. Each employee was called into King’s office, or the office of Daniel James, senior managing director. The bonuses were not announced publicly. Instead, each employee was told his/her bonus in private. And the absolutely bizarre thing about it all was that every single one of those employees exited King’s office looking confident and satisfied.

I knew some of them had to be bluffing, because not everyone got a larger bonus than last year. And here lay the competitive nature of the business. No matter what number those bankers got told when they entered King’s office, they would never let their colleagues see their disappointment.

Like I said, it was all about appearances.

It was mid-morning, and another “pleased”-looking employee had just exited King’s office when I went inside to bring him his coffee.

“Hey. How’s everything going?” I asked, setting the cup down on his desk.

“Monotonous,” he replied, running a hand through his short blond hair.

“Don’t you enjoy telling people their bonuses? I mean, the ones who did well, at least?” I asked, curious.

King only shot me a look that said it all. So he didn’t like B-day. Duly noted.

“Will you thank your mother for the note she sent yesterday?” I said just before I was about to leave.

King glanced up from the papers on his desk. “Note?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I got it yesterday. She wrote telling me she enjoyed my company when I’d stayed for tea.”

A stressed look crossed over King’s face. “Do you still have it?”

“Yes, it’s in my drawer.”

“Go get it,” he clipped.

Frowning, I turned and went to retrieve the note. When I returned, I handed it to King, and he hurried to pull it from the envelope. His eyes scanned the words, and then a relieved breath escaped him.

“Yes, this is definitely her handwriting.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Who else’s would it be?”

Shutters went down behind King’s eyes and he stood, walking to me and handing me back the note. I took it and watched as he went to the drinks cabinet at the back of the office and pulled out a bottle of expensive whiskey. In less than a few seconds, he’d poured some into a glass and knocked it back. I recalled his words from yesterday.

When I’m stressed out, a nice glass of top-shelf whiskey usually does the trick.

Why had his mother sending me a note stressed him out? And why had he thought somebody else had sent it?

“King, is everything all right?” I asked, concerned.

He closed the drinks cabinet and turned back, his expression hard. Whoa. I’d never seen him look at me like that before.

“Everything is fine, Alexis. Now, I do believe you have work to attend to.”

Brow furrowing, I gave him a quiet, “Yes, I do,” then turned and left his office.

***

I didn’t go to the bathroom for lunch that day, nor did I go the day after. Instead, I ate my sandwich on a bench outside, intermittently browsing my messages and throwing pieces of bread to the pigeons. I’d almost forgotten that King and I had anything even resembling a friendship until he sidled into the office on Friday morning looking like the cat that got the cream. And all of that smug delight was being firmly directed at me. He said his usual hellos to both Gillian and Eleanor, then came to stand in front of me, arms folded, a gigantic smile on his face.

“You’re looking particularly lovely today, Miss Clark,” he said with a flourish.

I glanced at him for a second, frowned, and then continued typing. What was his game? Eleanor got up from her seat and went to use the bathroom, and still he remained standing there like a complete and total oddball, as Gillian’s voice talking on the phone filled the room. Finally, I gave in.

“Can I help you with something?”

“I could fucking kiss you right now,” he beamed, and I sucked a breath.

Okay. Trying to play it nonchalant, I replied, “For what exactly?”

“That social media start-up we discussed the other day? Well, immediately after we spoke, I lined up one of my clients as an investor, and guess what?”

I stared at him. “What?”

“The site has gone viral overnight. Apparently, a couple of celebrities started using it, and now they’re getting new sign-ups by the bucket load.” He leaned forward and braced both his hands on the edge of my desk. “This client was an important one, and he currently thinks I shit daisies. And I have you to thank for it, Alexis. You’re a flipping genius!”

I couldn’t help my smile. He really was laying it on thick and heavy. “Shall I whip out my cock for you to suck now or later? Jeez, Ollie, tone it down a little.”

He blinked at me, and then a second later he was laughing. It was good thing Eleanor wasn’t around and that Gillian was too preoccupied with her phone call to hear what I’d said.

“Did you just call me Ollie?”

Supressing a smirk, I nodded, still typing. A beat of silence passed.

“Did you also just refer to me sucking your cock?”

“Well, you’ve already opened the button and pulled down the fly. You might as well finish the job,” I quipped, and amusement lit his eyes.

He stared at me for so long that I began to get uncomfortable. His smile naturally faded, and now his expression grew serious. “I’m going to put a bonus in your first month’s pay. Think of it as a consultant’s fee.”

Now I was frowning again. “You don’t have to do that. Seriously, picking that start-up instead of the other business was just me thinking out loud. Hazarding a guess. I didn’t do any research. I could have been completely bullshitting for all you knew.”

King leaned closer. “Alexis, don’t insult me. I know bullshit from real shit when I hear it. And what you gave me was the latter.”

Now I was the one staring him down. I decided I wasn’t going to protest further, because, hey, if he wanted to give me a bunch of money for my advice, I wasn’t going to turn my nose up at it. Maybe I could use it to bring me and Karla away on a little weekend break or something.

“Fine,” I said. “Give me the bonus.”

“Not giving it to you was never an option,” he answered before heading in the direction of his office. Once he reached the door, he turned back. “Oh, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about Saturday. And I better see you at lunch today. No more standing me up.”

Jesus, he said that right in front of Gillian. It was good thing she was still busy with her phone call. I could just imagine the gossip spreading like wildfire if she knew we were having all these intimate little lunches together. Before I could shoot him a scowl for almost outing us, he’d disappeared inside his office.

I didn’t stand him up for lunch. And this time King won the game. Damn, he was starting to get an advantage on me.

Oliver King: 2. Alexis Clark: 1.

***

Bradley: Don’t wear any makeup. It’ll be done at the shoot. Can’t wait to see you. Smooches <3

Alexis: Is it okay if I bring a friend?

Bradley: Karla wants to come?

Alexis: No, she’s working. Someone else.

Bradley: A boy?

Alexis: Maybe.

Bradley: Send me a pic and then I’ll decide :-D

Alexis: Piss off.

Bradley: Fine. I’ll just have to wait and wonder. If he looks anything like the last one, then I predict I’m in for a treat.

Alexis: He’s not a boyfriend. Just a friend friend.

Bradley: Ooooh. I see. A gentleman’s gentleman?

Alexis: Sorry to disappoint, but no. A lady’s gentleman through and through.

Bradley: Sometimes I think you might hate me.

Alexis: Lol. See you later.

Bradley: Whatevs.

On Saturday morning, King insisted we take his car to the photo shoot. I told him I’d get the tube and meet him there, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. To be honest, I really didn’t want him to collect me. I hated to admit it, but I was embarrassed by where I lived. Yeah, he was aware I wasn’t exactly born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but the thought of King actually seeing the reality of my life made me break out into a cold sweat. I doubted he’d ever set foot in a building like mine in his life. It was going to be a rude awakening when he saw the graffiti-laden, grey block of despair in which I dwelled.

Giving in, I texted him my address, expecting him to call when he was outside. That wasn’t what happened. Oh, no, Oliver King took it upon himself to ascend the many flights of stairs up to my flat and knock right on my door. Karla was at work, and I was just pulling on a top when I heard the knocking. Praying it was one of my neighbours coming to ask a favour, I padded my way to the door and peered through the peephole. And there in all his sexy glory was my boss. I let out a long sigh and thumped my head against the metal panel.

Well, he’d already seen the worst of it now. There was no point refusing to let him inside. I opened the door and stepped back, taking in his appearance. It had quite an effect on me. He wasn’t wearing his usual fitted suit. No, today he wore a casual black jacket, a grey T-shirt beneath, designer jeans, and a pair of Caterpillar boots. I swear I had to consciously resist the urge to swoon. His hair was casually tousled with a bit of wax, and seeing him dressed like an everyday, normal bloke did a bit of a number on me. He looked just like someone I might chat with in a bar.

Catching my breath, I greeted him. “Hey, uh, you didn’t have to come all the way up here, but come in.”

Stepping past the threshold, King surveyed my small but tidy flat before bringing his attention to me. “Good morning, Alexis. I encountered a couple of young girls in the stairwell.” He seemed a little flustered, and it made me smile.

“Oh, yeah, what did they say?”

His brow furrowed. “I’m not sure if it bears repeating.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I can imagine. I just have to throw a few things in my bag, but make yourself comfortable. Be back in a tick,” I said, and went inside my bedroom to shove my phone and wallet into my handbag. I was wearing a pair of black leggings, an old Madness T-shirt, and a long purple cardigan. Oh, and no makeup, as requested by Bradley. I hadn’t bothered to dress fancy for two reasons. One: I’d be getting dolled up at the shoot. And two: I didn’t want King “warming” to me any more than he already had. I mean, the man thought I was a lesbian, and he still wanted to hang out.

Perhaps it was my glowing personality that he enjoyed.

Heh.

Returning to the living area, I found King sitting on the couch, perusing a picture of me and my family. The sight of all his masculine beauty in my very ordinary living room struck me like a whack to the chest. He was a fucking stunning-looking man, and I was pretty much doomed to lust after him for the foreseeable future.