King of Hearts
Page 37
He sighed. “You’ve known me a couple of weeks, Alexis. You have no idea what is and isn’t like me.”
“Look, I’m not trying to be nosy. I’m just concerned, that’s all. You’ve been drinking a lot, and coming from someone who used to work in a bar, I know a problem when I see one.”
“There’s no problem,” said King.
I stared at him, disbelieving. If he wanted to fool himself into thinking he didn’t have a problem, then fine, I wasn’t going to push it. Getting up from my seat, I reached up to the overhead compartment and pulled out my carry-on. It had a brand new set of travel toiletries inside, including a mini-toothbrush.
“You can use these if you’d like to go freshen up,” I said stiffly, holding the set out to him.
He looked up at me, not taking it. A long moment of silence passed, his light eyes turning stormy. Finally, and without saying a word, he took the toiletries and left to use the bathroom. About ten minutes later he returned, looking a little better than he had. Though if the smell of him earlier was anything to go by, he must have been suffering from one hell of a hangover. The flight progressed in silence, as I focused on reading a magazine I’d brought with me. When the air hostess stopped by to ask if we’d like anything to eat or drink, I practically held my breath. There was an array of alcoholic beverages available to order, and I just knew King was considering them. Instead, he shook his head, and the woman moved on to the next passengers. Well, that was a relief.
Before I knew it, we were landing in Rome. After we departed the plane, I went to collect our bags from the carousel, while King excused himself to the bathroom. By the pale look on his face, I thought he might be going to throw up. I knew I was right when he found me several minutes later, a little of the colour having returned to his cheeks. Perhaps he’d now learned his lesson not to overdo it in future.
A car was waiting for us outside, and drove us to a hotel a distance from the city near a place called Ostia. King had insisted on staying there because it was one of his favourites, and I could see why. It had an outdoor swimming pool and beautiful gardens, which got me excited. I had to remind myself I was there to work, not for a fancy holiday.
Rummaging for the folder of documents Gillian had sent me via email last night, I retrieved our booking and presented it to the receptionist, while King stood back, his phone held to his ear as he carried out a work conversation. I was vaguely aware of the receptionist informing me we had adjoining rooms as she handed me the key cards. King must have seen the WTF look on my face, because he lowered his phone for a second to explain, “It’s easier this way. Gillian always books adjoining rooms so that we don’t have to go traipsing halfway around hotels to find one another.”
And then he was back on the phone. Well, that was…convenient. A bellboy came to take our bags, and before I knew it, I was alone in my room, flopping down on the bed and wondering what I’d gotten myself into. We didn’t have to meet with the clients until dinner, and Italians ate late, so that gave me a couple of hours to rest up. I lay there for a while, tired, because no matter how short the journey, flights always seemed to drain me of energy.
In the end, I decided to treat myself and run a bath. I enjoyed a nice long soak and got out only when my fingers had started to turn to prunes. Wrapping a white fluffy towel around my body, I grabbed another and scrunched my hair dry. Usually, if I just towel-dried my hair and didn’t brush it, it went really curly. Just as I was laying the black dress I planned to wear to the business dinner out on the bed, I heard a soft knock on the door that led to King’s room.
Before I had the chance to react, the knob turned, and my boss stepped inside.
Eleven
Why hadn’t I thought to lock the door? Jesus, though, he could have waited for me to call him in before opening it.
I stood there, frozen to the spot in my short towel and damp hair. King had clearly showered and changed into a new suit. In fact, he looked like a whole new man, no longer rumpled and hungover. The moment he saw me, he glanced away. Well, no, that’s not quite what he did. His gaze made a quick perusal of my body, paying particular attention to the swell of my breasts. His jaw ticked, and then he glanced away. His close attention literally made me flush from my cheeks to the tips of my toes.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be dressed.”
“Well, I’m not,” I said, stating the obvious.
There was a strain in his voice as he echoed my statement. “No, you’re not.”
“Could you give me a half-hour? I just need to get ready.”
King let out a breath. “We don’t have the time. Mr Hirota’s assistant just called to say they were moving the meeting to another venue. He’s notorious for changing things around on a whim. Unfortunately, he’s the one we’re trying to win over, so we have to pander to it.”
I looked back at him. He stared at me. We were locked in a moment, and neither one of us made a move to break it, even though I was standing there almost naked. King seemed unusually stressed, and it was curious because he was never stressed to meet with clients. Over the past couple of weeks I’d witnessed him secure a number of business deals, but there was something different about this one, like he was extra determined for it to be successful. It made me wonder why. Gillian had told me that Mr Hirota was the Japanese-American owner of a chain of hotels with a deep love for ancient Roman history, which was why he lived here. There was nothing particularly unusual about him, though, so I was lost as to why King was on edge.
“Look, I’m not trying to be nosy. I’m just concerned, that’s all. You’ve been drinking a lot, and coming from someone who used to work in a bar, I know a problem when I see one.”
“There’s no problem,” said King.
I stared at him, disbelieving. If he wanted to fool himself into thinking he didn’t have a problem, then fine, I wasn’t going to push it. Getting up from my seat, I reached up to the overhead compartment and pulled out my carry-on. It had a brand new set of travel toiletries inside, including a mini-toothbrush.
“You can use these if you’d like to go freshen up,” I said stiffly, holding the set out to him.
He looked up at me, not taking it. A long moment of silence passed, his light eyes turning stormy. Finally, and without saying a word, he took the toiletries and left to use the bathroom. About ten minutes later he returned, looking a little better than he had. Though if the smell of him earlier was anything to go by, he must have been suffering from one hell of a hangover. The flight progressed in silence, as I focused on reading a magazine I’d brought with me. When the air hostess stopped by to ask if we’d like anything to eat or drink, I practically held my breath. There was an array of alcoholic beverages available to order, and I just knew King was considering them. Instead, he shook his head, and the woman moved on to the next passengers. Well, that was a relief.
Before I knew it, we were landing in Rome. After we departed the plane, I went to collect our bags from the carousel, while King excused himself to the bathroom. By the pale look on his face, I thought he might be going to throw up. I knew I was right when he found me several minutes later, a little of the colour having returned to his cheeks. Perhaps he’d now learned his lesson not to overdo it in future.
A car was waiting for us outside, and drove us to a hotel a distance from the city near a place called Ostia. King had insisted on staying there because it was one of his favourites, and I could see why. It had an outdoor swimming pool and beautiful gardens, which got me excited. I had to remind myself I was there to work, not for a fancy holiday.
Rummaging for the folder of documents Gillian had sent me via email last night, I retrieved our booking and presented it to the receptionist, while King stood back, his phone held to his ear as he carried out a work conversation. I was vaguely aware of the receptionist informing me we had adjoining rooms as she handed me the key cards. King must have seen the WTF look on my face, because he lowered his phone for a second to explain, “It’s easier this way. Gillian always books adjoining rooms so that we don’t have to go traipsing halfway around hotels to find one another.”
And then he was back on the phone. Well, that was…convenient. A bellboy came to take our bags, and before I knew it, I was alone in my room, flopping down on the bed and wondering what I’d gotten myself into. We didn’t have to meet with the clients until dinner, and Italians ate late, so that gave me a couple of hours to rest up. I lay there for a while, tired, because no matter how short the journey, flights always seemed to drain me of energy.
In the end, I decided to treat myself and run a bath. I enjoyed a nice long soak and got out only when my fingers had started to turn to prunes. Wrapping a white fluffy towel around my body, I grabbed another and scrunched my hair dry. Usually, if I just towel-dried my hair and didn’t brush it, it went really curly. Just as I was laying the black dress I planned to wear to the business dinner out on the bed, I heard a soft knock on the door that led to King’s room.
Before I had the chance to react, the knob turned, and my boss stepped inside.
Eleven
Why hadn’t I thought to lock the door? Jesus, though, he could have waited for me to call him in before opening it.
I stood there, frozen to the spot in my short towel and damp hair. King had clearly showered and changed into a new suit. In fact, he looked like a whole new man, no longer rumpled and hungover. The moment he saw me, he glanced away. Well, no, that’s not quite what he did. His gaze made a quick perusal of my body, paying particular attention to the swell of my breasts. His jaw ticked, and then he glanced away. His close attention literally made me flush from my cheeks to the tips of my toes.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be dressed.”
“Well, I’m not,” I said, stating the obvious.
There was a strain in his voice as he echoed my statement. “No, you’re not.”
“Could you give me a half-hour? I just need to get ready.”
King let out a breath. “We don’t have the time. Mr Hirota’s assistant just called to say they were moving the meeting to another venue. He’s notorious for changing things around on a whim. Unfortunately, he’s the one we’re trying to win over, so we have to pander to it.”
I looked back at him. He stared at me. We were locked in a moment, and neither one of us made a move to break it, even though I was standing there almost naked. King seemed unusually stressed, and it was curious because he was never stressed to meet with clients. Over the past couple of weeks I’d witnessed him secure a number of business deals, but there was something different about this one, like he was extra determined for it to be successful. It made me wonder why. Gillian had told me that Mr Hirota was the Japanese-American owner of a chain of hotels with a deep love for ancient Roman history, which was why he lived here. There was nothing particularly unusual about him, though, so I was lost as to why King was on edge.
