Page 8 of Break a King (Five Kings 3)

Lexi

If I take one thought with me it’s that he’s your usual corporate asshole who thinks he’s better than everyone else because of how much money he’s got in the bank. Women swoon as he passes and do everything in their restricted power to wind up in his bed.

His attitude stinks and the fact he’s so hot is a serious distraction that I don’t need. I lied. He is very much my type, looks wise, anyway. Dark hair that’s cut short but long enough to run my fingers through. Deep brown eyes that contain the secret of world peace in them and are just as guarded. Slightly unshaven, making him appear edgy and dangerous. A caveman in a suit. Way to go, Ryder, you’ve delivered me every wish I had, except one—his personality stinks.

Just comparing him to the Reapers is no contest. They are hot, honorable and operate with a sense of humor as their weapon of choice. Hunter Blake is an asshole first and foremost, and I wasn’t kidding when I said he didn’t interest me. My body may disagree, but my mind is in charge now, so I make my way past the disapproving Miss. Baxter and head out the way I came.

As he said, his car is waiting and I wonder about a man who has every part of his day planned. He has it all organized and as I smile at the uniformed driver who is holding open the car door, I don’t miss the surprise in his eyes at the greeting. That tells me he’s not used to being acknowledged, and I harden my heart a little against Hunter Blake.

As I slip into the car, once again I notice the clean interior of a vehicle that looks as if it’s fresh off the production line.

Tapping the glass screen, it lowers and I say pleasantly, “Hi, I’m Lexi. What should I call you?”

“Dobson, ma’am.”

“That’s a funny first name.”

He laughs softly, “Richie, ma’am.”

“So, Richie, how long have you worked for Mr. Blake?”

“Two years ma’am.”

“Do you like your job?”

“He is a good employer.”

“But do you like it, I mean, if you could do anything, what would you choose?”

He seems surprised and I add, “Personally, I would own a ranch and marry a cowboy and end up mom to at least ten kids. What about you?”

He laughs softly. “A firefighter.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I’m asthmatic, it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

I say sympathetically, “That sucks.”

We drift through the traffic at a very slow pace, and I carry on. “Are you married?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“My name’s Lexi, not ma’am, use it.”

I giggle to take the edge from my words, and he laughs. “Sindy, we’ve been married for five years.”

“Any kids?”

“Two, Grady and Bailey.”

“Nice names, any pictures?”

He delves into his pocket and flips open his wallet and hands it across and I see a nice family portrait staring back at me. “You have a lovely family.”

I stare at the picture and something pulls on my heartstrings. This is worth all Hunter’s billions. It’s this, the way his wife stares at her husband as if he hung the moon. The proud way he rests his hand on top of his son’s head and the look his daughter is directing his way tells me it’s a happy home.

Handing his wallet back, I smile. “It must be nice to go home every night.”

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