Page 14 of Steal a King (Five Kings 2)

Ella

What have I done? I went too far, I’m an idiot, completely mad because I should have paid heed to the rumors. Lucas Emiliano is not a nice man. Hell, even the man with him told me that confirming every other whisper I’ve ever heard about him.

Now he’s so close I can hear him breathing as he pins me to the wall with one hand and stares at me through those dark, deadly eyes.

I want to close my eyes to shut out the inevitable that’s coming my way, but I can’t. It’s as if this man fascinates me. It’s like watching a snake the moment before it strikes. I am frozen in fear, strangely detached from the situation as I look on with interest to see what happens next. Will he snap my neck in two with those strong hands? Press a thumb hard against my skin to cut off my air supply? Will I regret the moment of madness when I allowed my voice to seal my fate?

I can almost taste his scent, its potent, musky, swirling with pheromones and my knees are so weak it’s a good thing he’s holding me up. Despite it all, I feel a wet trail of desire filling my panties which shocks me more than anything.

I want him.

This violent, damaged man who scares the hell out of me. I want him so badly I start to shiver with desire and as his lips crash against mine I am so shocked I let him in. He punishes my mouth by nipping on my lip, and I taste my own blood. His tongue plunders mine and binds it to his and I feel him hard against me, the thin fabric of my workout clothes doing little to protect me as he pushes in hard and swallows me whole. There is now nothing in my life but him. He is all around me, against me and inside my mind. I should be scared, cowering in fear, but I am so turned on I can’t think straight.

His low growl causes my heart rate to increase as I feel the hunger inside him for me. His hold lessens against my neck and instead he wraps those hands behind my head and pulls me closer, devouring my lips and extracting my self-esteem.

I want him. I want him so much if he tore my clothes off, I wouldn’t care. If he took me right here against this wall, I would consider it the best day ever. Instead, he pulls away and stares deep into my eyes and growls, “Just for the record, next time you demand something from me, next time you raise your voice in anger—against me and next time you throw my hospitality back in my face, it won’t be my kiss you feel. I will bend that ass across my lap and spank you so hard you won’t sit down for a week. You will beg me to stop and guess what—I won’t. So, carry on with your day and meet me at 7 in the dining room, dressed appropriately. I will not ask a third time. If you refuse, you will be confined to a different room where I hold the people who piss me off and that, my wild flower, is the opposite to luxury. It’s your choice, you play by my rules, or we play a different game.”

He drops me and my fingers instinctively go to my neck as I gasp for air. He says nothing and just turns away and walks to the door, but before he leaves, he snaps, “You can call your mother tonight if I am pleased with you. Rewards are earned around here—not demanded. Learn from that.”

He leaves me reeling, and as soon as he leaves it’s as if a black cloud goes with him and as I fall to the nearby chair, I struggle to make sense of what just happened. He was so violent, he changed in the blink of an eye and I never saw it coming.

His reputation is well earned because he is definitely not a nice man.

Then why do I want more?

* * *

My afternoon is spent worryingabout what will happen later on. After a long shower where I tried to remove the imprint of his touch, I stare at my possessions with frustration. I have nothing to wear. Nothing suitable for a meal with a gazillionaire. The smartest thing I own is a peasant style white dress that is more suited to the beach than an evening dinner date.

Then there are my shoes, I only have sneakers and one pair of strappy sandals. I’m going to look ridiculous and I briefly wonder about tearing down the silk drapes and hand stitching a dress somehow because this is a disaster.

My nerves are in full control of my body as I sit rocking on the chair in the corner of the room, desperately trying to think of an alternative because just thinking of what punishment awaits me if he’s displeased, causes me to hyperventilate with fear. It’s bad enough fearing physical injury, but what is this other place he’s talking about? I’m under no illusions it’s not as palatial as the room I’m in now and I will do anything to stop myself from experiencing that dubious pleasure.

I can’t even eat any of the food Tom brought up when I was in the shower. It all sits under the silver domes on the side because just the sight of it will be enough to make me hurl.

A loud knock on the door brings my mind back from the abyss and I say shakily, “It’s ok, you can come in.”

I expect to see Tom, here to collect the tray, but instead I see a tiny woman staring at me with curiosity. She looks to be in her late thirties and is wearing a smart suit with her skirt dusting just above her knees. She has her hair slicked back in a ponytail and her make-up is impeccable.

She looks as if she’s involved somehow because she doesn’t seem surprised to see me, and as I jump up, I notice she is carrying what looks to be a garment bag.

“Miss. Quinn, I’m Dixie, Lucas’s assistant. He has instructed me to arrange a suitable dress for this evening. I believe you are joining him for dinner at 7pm sharp.”

She nods to emphasize her point and I know she’s reinforcing the time, which makes me fearful all over again. Dare I be late, I already know not to be, so I say in a quivering voice, “Thank you.”

If she thinks this is strange, she doesn’t show it and just places the bag on the chair and looks at her phone. “Lucas expects you to wear the dress, word of advice, do as he says.”

She half turns and I say quickly, “Excuse me.”

“Yes, Miss. Quinn.”

“Um, Lucas, Mr. Emiliano, um, am I safe staying here?”

I look for any sign at all that she will help me and she just nods. “If you do as he says, he will be the perfect gentleman. Word of advice, Miss. Quinn, Lucas doesn’t play by the same set of rules as the rest of us. He makes them up as he goes along and expects those closest to him to make it happen. Know one thing, I have worked for him for five years and couldn’t wish for a better boss. He’s not kind, you probably know that already. He’s not one for polite chat and to be honest, I’ve never known him entertain at all. He keeps his private life to himself, so we are both in undiscovered territory here. However, know one thing, my loyalty is to him, Tom’s loyalty is to him and we will never let him down. Have a nice evening, Miss. Quinn, I hope the dress fits.”

I watch her leave and part of me admires her. She must know this is wrong, surely. Then again, what do I know of their world? Maybe the rules are different here. Perhaps I should just run with it, play along and then make it home with a memory of how the other half live.

My attention turns to the garment bag and I am curious to see what’s inside.

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