Naughty King
Page 25
Out of every type of business partner I imagined Alexander King to have, Yamada was definitely unexpected.
When I pass through what I have officially dubbed ‘The Room That Shall Not Be Named’ on the way to the common area of the suite, I shudder the moment my eyes land on the table. The things that man did to my body on there are unspeakable in the best kinds of ways. It’s hard to admit the man that you love to hate can make you feel so incredibly good.
A quick rap on the door makes me quicken my pace. I open the door and find two very large official looking men in black suits—one white guy with short buzzed blond hair and the other a light-skinned black man with braids—each of them at least six-foot-five or better because they dwarf me by at least a foot.
The man with braids gives me a polite smile. “Good evening, miss. We’re here to escort you to Mr. Yamada’s suite.”
I nod stepping out into the hallway with them and closing the door behind me. The ride up in the elevator to Yamada’s penthouse is quick, but I find myself fidgeting with the hem of my black dress, trying to squeeze an extra inch from the length to cover more thigh. This is the shortest one I brought, and suddenly, I wish I wouldn’t have picked this one to wear to a place I know Alexander will be in attendance. I don’t need the temptation of having him come on to me. Lord knows that I can’t seem to resist his advances, so I need to make sure I steer clear and don’t set myself up for another encounter with him.
When the elevator dings and the doors open, the men lead me down the hallway. They pause at a set of double doors and use their keycard to gain entrance into Yamada’s suite. It doesn’t surprise me that this suite is the biggest one in the hotel.
Wall to wall bodies fill the large space as music pumps through the air. People are dancing to the beat while sipping on drinks like the place is one of Vegas’ hottest nightclubs. I follow the security team closely as we wind our way through the crowd. Yamada seems very eccentric and over-the-top, so this place totally fits him.
The crashing sound of bowling pins smashing into one another catches my attention, and I raise my eyebrows when I find a full-fledged bowling lane in the suite just a little ways down from the hot tub that’s filled with bikini-clad women.
Turning the corner, I see a large white sectional crammed with people. My heart freezes in my chest the moment my eyes land on Alexander, who has two women strategically placed on either side of him. He hasn’t spotted me just yet because I follow his line of sight and his gaze is fixed on Yamada, who is standing in front of him wearing a flat bill baseball cap turned sideways, low-riding jeans, and a white buttoned-down dress shirt that’s undone to reveal a T-shirt underneath. Yamada seems to be telling a story of some sort because he’s throwing his hands around causing Alexander to laugh. I stop in my tracks and just stare. It’s the first time I’ve ever actually seen Alexander look relaxed and happy, and it’s breathtaking. The casual outfit he has on of jeans and a T-shirt looks amazing. He’s never looked more handsome, and from the outside looking in, he looks like a carefree spirit—one I wish I knew instead of the asshole I fucked . . . twice.
“Sir, Ms. Buchanan, as requested,” the blond security guy says, interrupting Yamada’s joke.
Alexander’s eyes immediately snap in my direction, and the jovial expression that I was just admiring has completely been wiped off his face. His posture even changes and instead of leaning forward toward his friend, he relaxes back against the couch and throws his arms around the women on either side of him, pulling them snug against his sides.
My nostrils flare. That asshole. What’s he trying to do—make me jealous? Ha! Well, I’ll show him that it doesn’t bother me one tiny bit.
I’m here for one reason: To get close to Yamada. I will not allow Alexander King to distract me no matter how ridiculous he looks draped over some random bottle-blondes.
Yamada turns to me and holds out his arms. “Dime Piece! I knew you wouldn’t refuse Yamada! Come give Papa some love.”
I hold back a laugh and an eye roll as I step into his embrace and hug the guy back. “This party is really something. Do you know all these people?”
Yamada pulls back and then places his hands on his hips as he surveys the filled space. “No, but the bitch—”
“Bitches love Yamada,” Alexander cuts him off. “I’m sure you’ve told her that one already.”
I curl my lip at Alexander. “He can tell me again if he wants. You shouldn’t be a complete asshole and cut people off like that. It’s rude, and you’ve got a bad habit of doing it.”
Alexander’s eyes narrow at me. He hates when I belittle him. This grumpy look he’s giving me is the same one I get every time I tell him something he doesn’t want to hear.
Yamada bursts out in a fit of laughter. “Yamada’s in love. Any woman who stands up to King earns my respect.” He grabs my arm. “Come on. Let’s go get you a drink.”
He pulls me through the crowd to where he has two bartenders working what appears to be a full bar. “What are you drinking?”
I bite my lower lip. “I don’t typically drink, so just a diet soda or water would be fine.”
Yamada tilts his head and stares at me like I’ve just sprouted wings. “What? Are you one of those Christian-y types or something?”
I shake my head. “No. I just like to keep my head on straight. People always seem to do crazy things when they drink.”
When I pass through what I have officially dubbed ‘The Room That Shall Not Be Named’ on the way to the common area of the suite, I shudder the moment my eyes land on the table. The things that man did to my body on there are unspeakable in the best kinds of ways. It’s hard to admit the man that you love to hate can make you feel so incredibly good.
A quick rap on the door makes me quicken my pace. I open the door and find two very large official looking men in black suits—one white guy with short buzzed blond hair and the other a light-skinned black man with braids—each of them at least six-foot-five or better because they dwarf me by at least a foot.
The man with braids gives me a polite smile. “Good evening, miss. We’re here to escort you to Mr. Yamada’s suite.”
I nod stepping out into the hallway with them and closing the door behind me. The ride up in the elevator to Yamada’s penthouse is quick, but I find myself fidgeting with the hem of my black dress, trying to squeeze an extra inch from the length to cover more thigh. This is the shortest one I brought, and suddenly, I wish I wouldn’t have picked this one to wear to a place I know Alexander will be in attendance. I don’t need the temptation of having him come on to me. Lord knows that I can’t seem to resist his advances, so I need to make sure I steer clear and don’t set myself up for another encounter with him.
When the elevator dings and the doors open, the men lead me down the hallway. They pause at a set of double doors and use their keycard to gain entrance into Yamada’s suite. It doesn’t surprise me that this suite is the biggest one in the hotel.
Wall to wall bodies fill the large space as music pumps through the air. People are dancing to the beat while sipping on drinks like the place is one of Vegas’ hottest nightclubs. I follow the security team closely as we wind our way through the crowd. Yamada seems very eccentric and over-the-top, so this place totally fits him.
The crashing sound of bowling pins smashing into one another catches my attention, and I raise my eyebrows when I find a full-fledged bowling lane in the suite just a little ways down from the hot tub that’s filled with bikini-clad women.
Turning the corner, I see a large white sectional crammed with people. My heart freezes in my chest the moment my eyes land on Alexander, who has two women strategically placed on either side of him. He hasn’t spotted me just yet because I follow his line of sight and his gaze is fixed on Yamada, who is standing in front of him wearing a flat bill baseball cap turned sideways, low-riding jeans, and a white buttoned-down dress shirt that’s undone to reveal a T-shirt underneath. Yamada seems to be telling a story of some sort because he’s throwing his hands around causing Alexander to laugh. I stop in my tracks and just stare. It’s the first time I’ve ever actually seen Alexander look relaxed and happy, and it’s breathtaking. The casual outfit he has on of jeans and a T-shirt looks amazing. He’s never looked more handsome, and from the outside looking in, he looks like a carefree spirit—one I wish I knew instead of the asshole I fucked . . . twice.
“Sir, Ms. Buchanan, as requested,” the blond security guy says, interrupting Yamada’s joke.
Alexander’s eyes immediately snap in my direction, and the jovial expression that I was just admiring has completely been wiped off his face. His posture even changes and instead of leaning forward toward his friend, he relaxes back against the couch and throws his arms around the women on either side of him, pulling them snug against his sides.
My nostrils flare. That asshole. What’s he trying to do—make me jealous? Ha! Well, I’ll show him that it doesn’t bother me one tiny bit.
I’m here for one reason: To get close to Yamada. I will not allow Alexander King to distract me no matter how ridiculous he looks draped over some random bottle-blondes.
Yamada turns to me and holds out his arms. “Dime Piece! I knew you wouldn’t refuse Yamada! Come give Papa some love.”
I hold back a laugh and an eye roll as I step into his embrace and hug the guy back. “This party is really something. Do you know all these people?”
Yamada pulls back and then places his hands on his hips as he surveys the filled space. “No, but the bitch—”
“Bitches love Yamada,” Alexander cuts him off. “I’m sure you’ve told her that one already.”
I curl my lip at Alexander. “He can tell me again if he wants. You shouldn’t be a complete asshole and cut people off like that. It’s rude, and you’ve got a bad habit of doing it.”
Alexander’s eyes narrow at me. He hates when I belittle him. This grumpy look he’s giving me is the same one I get every time I tell him something he doesn’t want to hear.
Yamada bursts out in a fit of laughter. “Yamada’s in love. Any woman who stands up to King earns my respect.” He grabs my arm. “Come on. Let’s go get you a drink.”
He pulls me through the crowd to where he has two bartenders working what appears to be a full bar. “What are you drinking?”
I bite my lower lip. “I don’t typically drink, so just a diet soda or water would be fine.”
Yamada tilts his head and stares at me like I’ve just sprouted wings. “What? Are you one of those Christian-y types or something?”
I shake my head. “No. I just like to keep my head on straight. People always seem to do crazy things when they drink.”
