Tempting a King (King Family Romance Book 1)

by Isla Drake

  Tempting

  a

  King

  King Family Romance

  Book One

  Isla Drake

  Copyright © 2020 Isla Drake

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  13 years ago

  Finnegan King stood tall and straight, his blue eyes locked on the dark mahogany coffin before him. The minister was still speaking, but Finn heard none of what he said. He couldn’t take his eyes off the elegant wooden box draped in flowers. His eyes lost focus until the scene before him was a blur of colors with no discernible edges.

  Inside him, he felt the gaping hole that had opened nine days earlier when he’d gotten the phone call telling him his parents had been in a car accident. The man on the other end of the line had been kind, his voice gentle. It did nothing to soften the blow when he told Finn that his mother had been killed instantly. There was nothing anyone could have done. Abby King had been dead before the ambulance had arrived.

  Finn’s father had initially survived the crash, but he’d been in critical condition. Every hour that he remained alive was a miracle. He’d had more than one surgery to repair the damage to his internal organs. There were tests and scans. More surgeries and procedures. More scans. Still, Marcus King had stubbornly clung to life. He was such a large, vibrant man and it seemed impossible that something as common as a car accident could be his downfall. Days passed, and he remained unconscious.

  Finn had rushed home from college immediately and been faced with more decisions than anyone should have to make at his age. There was the matter of his mother’s funeral. Should it wait until after his father recovered? If his father recovered, that was. No one could tell him with any sort of certainty. Finn had been relieved when his brother Ronan, three years his junior, had been granted leave from the Marines and come home. He was only 19, but he’d always been good in a crisis. He’d be able to help Finn decide what to do. In the end, the decision had been taken from them both. Their father had suffered a massive stroke before he could wake up from the coma.

  Finn’s gaze shifted to the other wooden box only a few feet away. It seemed fitting that his parents would die at the same time. That they’d be buried together, on the same day. They’d always been a single entity in his mind. A team. Abby and Marcus King had been inseparable since the day they’d met. Not even death could change that, apparently. He heard none of the minister’s words as he spoke about the two most important people in Finn’s life. He felt a hand curl into his and looked down to see Claire standing beside him. She’d been quiet since he’d come home to break the news to her. She was the youngest of the King siblings at only 14. Normally, she was too cool for this type of affection, but this wasn’t a normal time. He squeezed her hand and tried to make his lips curl upward into a sad smile. More than anything, he wanted to tell her that everything would be okay. That he would always be there for her, no matter what. At 22, Finn was the oldest of the King children. It was up to him to make sure they were all safe and cared for. The weight of that responsibility sat on his chest, threatening to stop his breath. He watched as the two coffins were lowered into the ground and told himself that no matter what happened, he’d do everything in his power to make sure his brothers and sister were okay. He’d be strong. He’d do whatever it took. He’d sacrifice whatever he needed to. For them.

  Chapter One

  Present Day

  Hannah

  “Hurry up, Liam,” I call out as I toss a bag of apple slices into a dinosaur lunch bag. “You’re gonna be late for school.”

  Why do I always do this to myself? This destructive behavior is going to catch up to me one day. But I can’t seem to help myself. Every Sunday night, I stay up entirely too late and drink entirely too much wine. This leads to me hitting the snooze button a few too many times on my alarm clock, which leads to my Monday morning insane rush around the kitchen trying to avoid being late. All so I can spend a few hours ogling the devil. Or at least the guy who plays the devil. Look, it’s not my fault Tom Ellis is so hot.

  I glance at the clock. Shit! I tell myself I should cancel my Netflix membership. Maybe then I’ll get to sleep at a reasonable hour and these chaotic Monday morning rushes will become a thing of the past. I’ll become a new woman who eats healthy and drinks enough water. One who remembers to take her makeup off every night and washes her hair more than twice a week. It’s a good plan, I think. It could totally work. The clock ticks down another minute and I scramble around the kitchen, grabbing Liam’s backpack, his jacket, my purse.

  “Liam!” I call again. “We gotta go!”

  We have 15 minutes to make the 12-minute drive to his school, suffer through the interminable drop-off line and for him to make it to his classroom. Worst. Mom. Ever. Liam finally trudges into the kitchen, fresh from brushing his teeth.

  “Ready?” I ask with a smile.

  He frowns at me. “My tummy hurts,” he says.

  I bend down and feel his forehead. No fever. “Do you need to poop?” I ask, throwing out my usual first question when it comes to tummy aches.

  I’m secretly hoping the answer is no. We can’t be late again this quarter. The front office lady already gives me a judgmental look every time she sees me. It’s like she knows about my Netflix addiction. Thankfully, Liam shakes his head. Part of me wonders if he’s faking to try and get out of school. He hasn’t loved the transition to third grade. He misses some of his old classmates and he hasn’t gotten used to his new teacher yet. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to dodge school.

  “Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?” I ask softly.

  He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, looking down. “It just hurts.”

  Now I’m faced with the ultimate dilemma. Do I send Liam to school and hope he feels better as the day goes on? These things usually resolve themselves. He doesn’t have a fever and he hasn’t thrown up. Maybe it’s just gas. He did eat his breakfast faster than usual.

  “Do you feel okay to go to school?” I ask, pasting a bright smile on my face.

  Liam hesitates before nodding. “Today is my day to be line leader,” he says, giving me a small smile that melts my heart.

  I stroke a hand over his hair and kiss his forehead b
efore standing.

  “Come on,” I say. “We don’t want to be late.”

  He grins. “Yeah, ‘cause Miss Stokes will give you a tardy.”

  My mouth drops open in mock outrage. “Give me a tardy? I don’t go to school.”

  “Yeah,” he says, putting on his jacket. “But I can’t drive.” It’s clear who he thinks is to blame for this situation.

  The kid has a point. It’s not his fault when we’re running late. I feel a pang of guilt as I look down at him.

  “I’m sorry, kiddo,” I say. “I’m going to do better. Promise.”

  Liam only smiles up at me, his face trusting. “It’s okay, Momma. You’re doing your best.”

  It’s what I always tell him when he makes a mistake. It’s okay as long as he’s doing his best. A little voice whispers in my mind. Am I doing my best? Am I putting him first? The ever-present guilt and worry threaten to overwhelm me, but I push it aside and shoot him another smile as we hurry to the car.

  “Buckle up.”

  We make it to school before Liam is late. Barely. I swear that mean-looking teacher who watches the car line gave me a look when Liam scrambled out of the car. She’s silently judging me. I’m certain of it. I let out a sigh as I turn out of the school parking lot toward work.

  It’s a short drive from the school to the bed and breakfast where I’ve worked for the past 7 years. Officially, I’m the manager for The Queen’s Jester Bed and Breakfast. Unofficially, I’m the manager, concierge, desk clerk, event coordinator, occasional housekeeper, room service attendant and valet. When the owner, Finnegan King gave me a job shortly after Liam was born, he hadn’t had an official position for me. He’d just wanted to help a struggling single mom who had no real skills or education and a crying baby on her hip. He’d offered me a job and a place to stay in the little garden cottage on the Jester’s property. My pride had demanded I turn down what I saw as Finn’s charity. My empty wallet and Liam’s last 3 clean diapers insisted I take the help and work like hell to make sure he never regretted hiring me. That meant that over the years I’ve done any job that needed doing at the Jester and without complaint. Not that I’ve ever had reason to complain. Finn is a good boss and he trusts me to do a great job, no matter what task I’m given. He’s kind and fair and I enjoy working for him.

  I first met Finn when I moved to town with my ex-husband Paul nearly a decade ago. We moved here after Paul finished medical school. Some friend of a friend had a father who had pull with the local hospital’s board and Paul had easily gotten hired. I’d left college early to follow him, convinced all my dreams were coming true. I was married to a doctor, someone who saved lives every day. I felt important and respected. Right up until the day Paul left me.

  Paul’s parents had never really approved of me or of the small-town life we’d chosen. They’d always expected him to marry well and follow in his father’s footsteps. He’d been groomed since birth to join the family practice and work alongside his father until the time came for him to take over. He’d also been expected to marry his high school sweetheart, a woman far more fitting to his social standing than a college dropout who’d never set foot in a country club. Paul had assured me that he didn’t want any of that. He didn’t care about their opinions, their status or their money. I’d believed him. Hell, maybe Paul had believed it too. I don’t know. Looking back, we were both so young and naïve, it was easy to believe in the fairy tale. I can forgive him for changing his mind. I can forgive him for the divorce. What I will never forgive him for is refusing to have any part of Liam’s life. He’d divorced me and relinquished all parental rights soon after Liam was born. At least he’d had the decency to look ashamed when he’d handed over the papers.

  Apparently, Paul’s new bride-to-be didn’t want anything hanging over them from his ‘sordid past’. That was fine with me. It made things easier in so many ways. I was on my own with my son, yes. But it also meant that I’d never have to argue over custody, visitation or child support. It was a clean break and I told myself I was grateful for it. It took some time to truly convince myself of that fact, but eventually I found that it was true. Whatever Paul and I had been to one another, it hadn’t been love. Infatuation, maybe. When I think about that other life I could have had, I know that it isn’t Paul I miss. I sometimes miss the idea of safety and security for Liam. I mourn the future he could have had if things had gone differently. I wonder what he’s missing out on by not having a father. Am I enough to fill that gap? I only hope that he doesn’t come to feel the same as he grows older.

  My phone rings, pulling me out of the thoughts of the past. Glancing at the car’s screen, I smile at the name. I press the button on the steering wheel to answer the call.

  “Hey, Quinn,” I say, still smiling. “You’re up early.”

  My best friend’s voice comes through the car’s speaker. “Yeah well, I never actually went to sleep,” she says. “Plus, I knew you’d be heading into work about this time.”

  I roll my eyes. “What’s got you staying up all night? Or should I say who?”

  “Ha ha,” Quinn says sarcastically. “You’re hilarious. You know better than that. I wish there was a man involved.”

  I laugh. “What is it then?”

  “Just work,” she says, dismissively. “I really just called to see how you guys are doing. I miss you and Lee.”

  Something in her tone is more melancholy than usual, even for a Quinn who hasn’t slept all night. “He misses you too. And so do I. But we’re good,” I say. “Is everything okay?”

  There’s a slight pause before Quinn speaks again, her voice noticeably brighter. “Yeah,” she says. “Everything’s fine. I just miss you guys.”

  “So come for a visit,” I say. “I’ve got a spare room. Or I could get you a deal at the Jester. Even if it’s just for a weekend.”

  “Soon,” Quinn promises. “I just have a lot going on at work right now. But we’ll make it happen.”

  I let it go. The older we’ve gotten, the more difficult it’s gotten to make time for one another, even though she only lives a few hours away. I know that’s part of being an adult, but it doesn’t make me like it any better.

  “How’s work?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “It’s good,” she says. “Busy, but things are good.” After a pause in which I expect her to elaborate, she says, “What about you? How’s that hunky boss of yours? You too banging yet, or what?”

  I burst out laughing even as my face heats in embarrassment. I’m stopped at one of the few traffic lights in town and I’m happy my car windows aren’t open.

  “Shut up!” I manage through my laughter. “You know it’s not like that.”

  “I do know,” she says. “What I don’t know is why. He’s hot. You’re hot. You’re both single. And I know you want him.”

  My face feels lobster-red at this point. “Quinn, stop,” I say. “Finn is a friend. One of my best friends aside from you. And he’s my boss. That’s kind of a no-no.”

  Quinn let out a dramatic sigh. “You and your rules. If my boss looked like yours, I’d be all over him.”

  “Then I guess it’s lucky for you that your boss is old enough to be your grandpa, huh?”

  “Say what you will, but Stan was hot back in his day,” Quinn said. “I’ve seen the photos. Meow.”

  I laugh again, glad to steer the topic away from Finn and my lack of a sex life. Not that the two are at all related. They aren’t. Distracted, it takes me a moment to realize Quinn is waiting for me to speak. Did she ask me something?

  “What?” I say. “Sorry, driving.” I make the turn onto the long, winding road leading onto the Jester’s property.

  “I said, when is the last time you went somewhere that wasn’t work or Liam-related?”

  I sigh, knowing where this is going. “Quinn—”

  “Nope,” she cuts me off. “Don’t ‘Quinn’ me. I know what you’re going to say and it’s just another excuse. You need to get back out
there, Hannah. You’re 30, not 80. And even if you were 80, I’d tell you the same thing. You still have a pulse and you deserve some happiness.”

  “I’m happy, damn it,” I say, sounding anything but.

  “I know you love your life,” she says. “You’ve got a job you love, a wonderful little boy and the most amazing best friend you could possibly ask for.”

  “All true,” I agree, pulling into my designated parking spot 50 yards behind the main house.

  “But you weren’t made to be alone, Hannah. None of us were.”

  “Okay,” I say. “So, where’s your Mister Right, huh? I don’t see you settled down and married.”

  “The difference is I’m still looking,” Quinn says. “Trust me. If I find the right guy, I’ll lock him down and have 8 babies with him before he knows what hit him.”

  We both laugh. “Bullshit,” I say. “After that first labor, you’ll be rethinking those 8 kids.”

  Quinn chuckles before her voice turns more serious again. “Hannah, please,” she says. “Just tell me you’ll get back out there. Try and find someone?”

  “Where’s all this coming from?” I ask. “Why the sudden interest in my love life?”

  “It’s not sudden,” she says, her voice defensive. “Besides, can’t a girl just want to see her best friend happy?”

  “I am happy, Quinn,” I say ignoring the little voice in my head whispering doubts. “I promise.”

  Quinn sighs, then yawns. “If you say so,” she says. “Just think about it.”

  “I will,” I say. “Get some sleep. Love you.”

  “Love you,” she says. “Bye.”

  I press the button to end the call, but don’t get out of my car just yet. I think back over the conversation, considering Quinn’s words. I’m happy, I tell myself again. The little voice whispers again, questioning my insistence. Okay, if not happy, I’m at least content. I like my life the way it is. Don’t I? I love my kid, my job, my house and my car. I’m surrounded by people who care about me and try to make sure I have what I need. My life isn’t perfect, but no one has perfection. We’re not meant to. So, why do I feel like something is missing? And why didn’t I notice it until Quinn opened her big, fat mouth?