The King
Page 120
Sam blinked a few times.
“You are very welcome.” She smoothed down her vest, feigned a faint and Kingsley hauled her back to her feet. “Thank you, Captain.” She gave him a jaunty salute.
“No fainting.”
“That was a helluva kiss. Maybe I’ll just go lie down until it’s time to open the club. Maybe over here on the bed with my hand down my pants.” She started for his bed, but Kingsley grabbed her by the arm.
“Later,” he said. “I have a gift for you, too.”
“A gift? For me?”
“Pour toi, oui.”
“What is it?” Sam asked as Kingsley led her out into the hallway.
“Nothing much,” Kingsley said. “A small token of my affection. You went above and beyond the call of duty. I thought you should be rewarded.”
“You already pay me to do the best job in the world. I don’t need anything else from you.”
“You need this.”
“If it’s big I’m going to feel shitty,” Sam said. “I only gave you a key chain. I didn’t even give you one of those World’s Greatest Boss coffee mugs. I should do that. I’m going to get you a World’s Greatest Boss coffee mug.”
Kingsley unlocked a door—an all-white door with an all-white doorknob.
“Your gift,” Kingsley said and opened the door.
Sitting on the white bed in the middle of the room was Blaise in a gold satin cocktail dress in all her Gilda-esque glory.
“Kingsley asked me if I’d spend a little time with you tonight,” Blaise said, giving Sam a seductive red-lipped grin. “I can’t ever tell that man no, can I, monsieur?”
“Oh, Kingsley...” Sam rested her head on his chest for a moment and sighed. “There aren’t enough coffee mugs in the world.”
41
KINGSLEY STROLLED THROUGH the club, The 8th Circle. He looked in every room, inspected every corner. His club. His kingdom. His home. He stood alone in the hallway behind the balcony bar and listened. The doors had been opened, the people had arrived, the party had only begun. Everywhere he heard voices, laughter, erotic whispers and murmurs and secrets. Alone with no one to see him, he smiled. He’d done it. They’d done it, he and Sam. Only took nine months, two breakups and one physical assault on a televangelist, but they’d done it.
He heard footsteps behind him and smelled something cold, clean and pure in the air.
“How’s the Virgin Queen?” Kingsley asked, turning around to face Søren. “Did you have your talk with her and tell her to knock before coming into my house next time?”
Kingsley had thrown a pre-opening night party at his town house a few nights ago and a certain sixteen-year-old girl had wandered into the middle of it.
“In her defense,” Søren said, “Eleanor was stranded in the city and came to your house for help. I’m afraid she saw a few things that can’t be unseen.”
“She saw me.”
“That’s what I was referring to,” Søren said. “Did she say anything to you?”
“No, but I think she wanted to claw my eyes out,” Kingsley said, recalling how he’d come face-to-face with the black-haired, fire-eyed sixteen-year-old minx on his staircase a few days earlier.
“She wants to claw my eyes out now,” Søren said. “I’m not her favorite person at the moment.”
“Did you punish her for crashing my party?”
“She’s being punished, yes.”
“You beat her?”
“Worse. I grounded her.”
Kingsley laughed, but Søren, he only smiled. A pained smile.
“She’ll fit in here someday,” Kingsley said. He wondered if he’d made a mistake all those months ago when Søren made his offer, his offer that the three of them could be together, lovers, if Kingsley could promise to be faithful to them. He’d said no for two reasons—he hadn’t believed the offer was real. And he hadn’t seen Eleanor yet. Ah, c’est la vie. He’d still have Eleanor someday—Søren had promised. And he had the rest of the city to seduce until then.
“She will,” Søren said. “I look forward to bringing her here.”
“We could always use an extra dominatrix.”
Søren glared at him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Kingsley said. “If that girl is a submissive, I’m a virgin.”
“She’ll submit to me.”
“You’re going to regret you ever met that girl. She’s a tiger in a kitten’s body.”
Søren smiled enigmatically. “I always liked cats.”
Kingsley only laughed. Time would tell what sort of beast Søren’s little kitten would grow into. Whatever she turned into, Kingsley could already feel her claws in him.
“Do you like it? The club?” Kingsley asked, glancing around.
“Does it matter if I do or not?” Søren asked, amusement in his eyes.
“No,” Kingsley said. “I love it.”
“So do I.”
“Thank God,” Kingsley said, sagging against the wall with relief. “I built it for you. This is your playground. You’ll be safe here. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I know you will. I trust you.”
Kingsley stood up straighter and took a breath.
“I have much sinning to do tonight. No time to dally,” he said, and headed for the door.
“You are very welcome.” She smoothed down her vest, feigned a faint and Kingsley hauled her back to her feet. “Thank you, Captain.” She gave him a jaunty salute.
“No fainting.”
“That was a helluva kiss. Maybe I’ll just go lie down until it’s time to open the club. Maybe over here on the bed with my hand down my pants.” She started for his bed, but Kingsley grabbed her by the arm.
“Later,” he said. “I have a gift for you, too.”
“A gift? For me?”
“Pour toi, oui.”
“What is it?” Sam asked as Kingsley led her out into the hallway.
“Nothing much,” Kingsley said. “A small token of my affection. You went above and beyond the call of duty. I thought you should be rewarded.”
“You already pay me to do the best job in the world. I don’t need anything else from you.”
“You need this.”
“If it’s big I’m going to feel shitty,” Sam said. “I only gave you a key chain. I didn’t even give you one of those World’s Greatest Boss coffee mugs. I should do that. I’m going to get you a World’s Greatest Boss coffee mug.”
Kingsley unlocked a door—an all-white door with an all-white doorknob.
“Your gift,” Kingsley said and opened the door.
Sitting on the white bed in the middle of the room was Blaise in a gold satin cocktail dress in all her Gilda-esque glory.
“Kingsley asked me if I’d spend a little time with you tonight,” Blaise said, giving Sam a seductive red-lipped grin. “I can’t ever tell that man no, can I, monsieur?”
“Oh, Kingsley...” Sam rested her head on his chest for a moment and sighed. “There aren’t enough coffee mugs in the world.”
41
KINGSLEY STROLLED THROUGH the club, The 8th Circle. He looked in every room, inspected every corner. His club. His kingdom. His home. He stood alone in the hallway behind the balcony bar and listened. The doors had been opened, the people had arrived, the party had only begun. Everywhere he heard voices, laughter, erotic whispers and murmurs and secrets. Alone with no one to see him, he smiled. He’d done it. They’d done it, he and Sam. Only took nine months, two breakups and one physical assault on a televangelist, but they’d done it.
He heard footsteps behind him and smelled something cold, clean and pure in the air.
“How’s the Virgin Queen?” Kingsley asked, turning around to face Søren. “Did you have your talk with her and tell her to knock before coming into my house next time?”
Kingsley had thrown a pre-opening night party at his town house a few nights ago and a certain sixteen-year-old girl had wandered into the middle of it.
“In her defense,” Søren said, “Eleanor was stranded in the city and came to your house for help. I’m afraid she saw a few things that can’t be unseen.”
“She saw me.”
“That’s what I was referring to,” Søren said. “Did she say anything to you?”
“No, but I think she wanted to claw my eyes out,” Kingsley said, recalling how he’d come face-to-face with the black-haired, fire-eyed sixteen-year-old minx on his staircase a few days earlier.
“She wants to claw my eyes out now,” Søren said. “I’m not her favorite person at the moment.”
“Did you punish her for crashing my party?”
“She’s being punished, yes.”
“You beat her?”
“Worse. I grounded her.”
Kingsley laughed, but Søren, he only smiled. A pained smile.
“She’ll fit in here someday,” Kingsley said. He wondered if he’d made a mistake all those months ago when Søren made his offer, his offer that the three of them could be together, lovers, if Kingsley could promise to be faithful to them. He’d said no for two reasons—he hadn’t believed the offer was real. And he hadn’t seen Eleanor yet. Ah, c’est la vie. He’d still have Eleanor someday—Søren had promised. And he had the rest of the city to seduce until then.
“She will,” Søren said. “I look forward to bringing her here.”
“We could always use an extra dominatrix.”
Søren glared at him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Kingsley said. “If that girl is a submissive, I’m a virgin.”
“She’ll submit to me.”
“You’re going to regret you ever met that girl. She’s a tiger in a kitten’s body.”
Søren smiled enigmatically. “I always liked cats.”
Kingsley only laughed. Time would tell what sort of beast Søren’s little kitten would grow into. Whatever she turned into, Kingsley could already feel her claws in him.
“Do you like it? The club?” Kingsley asked, glancing around.
“Does it matter if I do or not?” Søren asked, amusement in his eyes.
“No,” Kingsley said. “I love it.”
“So do I.”
“Thank God,” Kingsley said, sagging against the wall with relief. “I built it for you. This is your playground. You’ll be safe here. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I know you will. I trust you.”
Kingsley stood up straighter and took a breath.
“I have much sinning to do tonight. No time to dally,” he said, and headed for the door.
