Page 2 of Fortress of the King

If only she knew. I’m the fucking devil.

My world is spinning as the vivid green of the woman’s eyes linger over me, and I’m thrilled when she’s the one to break the connection.

There’s hope for her yet.

I have to fucking know who she is.

My eyes cast over her petite frame. She’s well dressed in an expensive short dress with long sleeves; it’s fitted and business-like, but it outlines every goddamn curve on her beautiful body. Her high heels make her appear taller than she is, and I find myself imagining her legs wrapped around me while I fuck her senseless.

I shift in my seat uncomfortably.

The slight arch of her eyebrow tells me she knows who I am, but none of the usual signs follow:

Shock.

Fear.

Intrigue.

Lust.

Sometimes, and more often than not, disgust.

No wide eyes. No stumbling over oneself at introductions. No fucking anything.

This is odd.

Claire, however, isn’t in a hurry to introduce us. It’s ignorant. I don’t tolerate a lot, but bad manners are just a rite of passage for anyone who works for me or is in my presence.

I cock an eyebrow at Claire as my gaze shifts back to her. She stops mid-sentence and instinctively turns to her quiet companion with some surprise and apparent reluctance.

Before she can recover, I take over. “Would it be polite of a well-bred, smart, and successful woman who works for me to introduce me to her friend?” I say in a low voice. “Or is that beyond the realms of comprehension?”

Stupid bitch.

Claire flushes but recovers quickly. “My apologies, Mr. Medici, forgive me. This is my work colleague, Rayne Michaelson. She just started this week, and I’m showing her the ropes and training her on how you like things done.”

Oh, I’ll fucking show her how I like things done, tied to my bed.

My heart hammers in my chest at the thought. Then it hits me:A fucking employee?

Okay, so I don’t ever stop at the gallery unless there’s a new collection or an auction, like the one coming up, and I definitely don’t keep tabs on who the current employees are; it’s of no interest to me. I’ve got minions to take care of all that.

It looks like I may have to break my number one cardinal rule about fucking the help.

Her lips part as my eyes drop to her mouth.

Red lips. Fucking beautiful.

I imagine them wrapped around my cock, and I can’t believe I’m getting a hard-on while I sit here enjoying my espresso.

“Angelo Medici,” I drawl but stop short as she steps forward and does the unthinkable, holding her hand out toward me as if she intends to shake mine.

I don’t miss Claire’s shocked gasp as she does so.

I stare at her dainty hand, noting no wedding ring, with amusement on my lips, and it seems I’m in a good mood today, after all. Wonders never cease.

“Mr. Medici, I’m so pleased to meet you.” Even her fucking voice is sweet.

---