The Royals Series

by Bay, Louise

  “So? Does that mean you’ll come?”

  “Sure.” I grinned and the corner of his mouth turned up. I could tell we both wanted to touch each other, lean in for a kiss, but there was some kind of imaginary force field that existed when we were in work clothes.

  The cab pulled to a halt on Fifth Avenue. Shit, we were here.

  “Max King for Peter Jones,” he said when we reached the receptionist.

  As we made our way up in the elevators, he said, “I’ve done this a million times, Harper. I’ll step in if it gets too much.”

  He meant to be reassuring, but I didn’t want him to step in. I wanted to nail this so the presentation to JD Stanley would be easy. Or easier. I really wanted my father to see what I’d been able to do despite him. Maybe then he’d wonder if he’d missed out, realize just throwing money at a situation didn’t mean you knew a person, influenced or inspired them.

  “I’m good,” I said with an open, professional smile. “Everything’s fine.”

  As we entered the conference room, three men stood from their chairs across the oval mahogany table to greet us. All white, all balding, all slightly overweight. In fact, I could have interchanged any parts of them and I was pretty sure no one would notice.

  After the introductions, we took our seats across the table.

  “Gentlemen, we have some slides we’d like to pass around,” Max said as I slid three copies of our presentation across the table.

  Not one of them made a move to take the papers.

  The man in a gray suit steepled his fingers in front of him. “Why don’t you just talk to us about the experience you have in Asia. Most of your competitors have local offices, and I’d like to understand a little more about how you’ll be able to provide any real value from your desks here in Manhattan.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  This wasn’t going as planned. The presentation was where I felt safe.

  I glanced across at Max, who looked as relaxed as if he’d just been asked his mother’s maiden name. He sat back in his chair and nodded. “Sure. I’m very happy to talk about our strategic choices in terms of international reach.”

  He went on to explain how his low overheads meant he could spend money employing experts on the ground, which could be different project to project, where his competitors had to use the people they’d employed in their local office regardless of whether or not they were qualified. “You see someone at their desk in Kuala Lumpur is still at their desk—they’re not out meeting people, finding out what’s happening on the ground. My network of contacts are the people living the day-to-day reality of the geopolitical situations across many industries.” Max sat forward as he spoke, looking at his audience as if they were the most important people in the world and he had precious information to share with them. They seemed to find him as compelling as I did.

  Max batted away each of the questions as if he were Nadal returning serve, and as the meeting progressed, the suits visibly relaxed, even chuckling at a few of Max’s wry comments.

  “Do you think the actual process produces anything we’ve not seen before?” The middle man tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair. “You clearly see it as part of your competitive advantage.”

  Max turned to me. This was the part of the presentation I’d prepared. “Harper, did you want to add anything here?”

  I lifted the corner of my mouth, trying to fake a smile, wanting to cover the fact my mind had gone blank. Completely blank.

  “Yes, well.” I flicked through my copy of the presentation that had gone unopened. “As you said, we see this is as a key competitive advantage over others in the marketplace . . .” I glanced up and scanned the three sets of eyes all staring at me. I reached for my glass of water and took a sip. My mind was blank. I’d been over this hundreds of times, but I needed a prompt. “We like to conclude things,” I blurted. That was one of my key points, wasn’t it? I didn’t know what I was saying. I started flicking through my presentation manically. “I . . . If I could just . . .”

  Max placed his hand on my forearm. “Harper’s quite right. One of the key things that differentiates us from others in the marketplace is the conclusions we are able to draw.” Several times Max paused and turned to me, which would have allowed me to step in and say something if only I could have thought of a single thing to say.

  Eventually I tuned out and slumped back in my seat.

  I’d been given this huge opportunity and I’d totally bombed. What the hell was the matter with me? I’d been well prepared for today. I couldn’t have done more. Did I subconsciously not think I deserved to be here? Had my father’s comments at lunch last week burrowed deeper than I realized? I was trying so hard to prove to my father I was worthy of this job, but I wasn’t sure I really believed it.

  * * *

  I tried to wash away the awful meeting at Goldman Sachs but my bath wasn’t helping. Nor was the Jo Malone bath oil or the so-called soothing music filtering through from my bedroom. I was trying to relax, calm down. Nothing was working. All I could do was replay the disastrous meeting earlier in the day over and over again.

  I slid under the water, submerging my entire head in the vain hope it would cleanse away the embarrassment.

  I came up for air. Nope, I still wanted to die.

  Max must think I’m an idiot.

  My breath caught at the sharp knock at the door. Perfect timing. Here he was to tell me so. Well, I didn’t have to answer the door. I ignored him.

  “Harper, I know you’re in there. Answer the door.”

  I shouldn’t have put that music on. I stood up and wrapped a towel around me.

  Max started pounding on the door.

  “I’m coming,” I shouted. I threw it open, then immediately turned around and headed back to the bathroom.

  “Nice to see you, too,” he mumbled. I dropped my towel and slid back into the bath.

  I expected him to follow me, but instead I heard cabinet doors opening in the kitchen. What was he doing?

  He appeared, barefoot, his jacket and tie gone, holding two glasses of wine. Right then he might just have been the perfect man.

  “You have a nice, tight ass,” I said. He grinned. “And I’m really sorry I fucked up.”

  He handed me a glass, which I took gratefully. He’d definitely brought the bottle with him—I didn’t own anything this good. It tasted like it cost a month’s salary.

  He sighed, closed the bathroom door, and began unbuttoning his shirt. When he undid the last one, he took a swig of his wine and placed it on the side of the bath and stripped off the rest of his clothes.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as he stepped into the bath.

  He didn’t respond, just sat down at the opposite end, pulling my legs over his.

  “You choked today,” he said, taking a sip of his wine.

  “Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious. If you’re here to make me feel worse, you can leave right now.”

  He acted as if he hadn’t heard me, stroking up the leg I had resting on his thigh. “You know Michael Jordan?”

  Now he’s going to talk about sports? Great. Just what I needed.

  I nodded.

  “Greatest basketball player of all time, right? A consummate winner.”

  “Er . . . yes.” Where the hell was he going with this?

  “Well something he said was the best business advice I’ve ever received. It went like this, ‘I’ve missed more than nine-thousand shots in my career and I’ve lost almost three-hundred games.’” He smoothed his hands up and down my legs “‘Twenty-six times I've been trusted to take the game-winning shot and missed. ‘I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.’”

  He paused and we stared at each other.

  “We all fuck up, Harper. We all choke. It’s how we get better.”

  I sighed and skimmed the top of the water with my palms. “Yeah, well, I’m not a basketball player,” I muttered.

&nb
sp; “Of course you are. We all are. You didn’t come out of the womb ready. How many times did you fall over before you learned to walk? You can’t give up when you fail the first time.” He took my foot, pressing his thumbs into my sole. “The problem is there comes a point in life when you haven’t fucked up in a while. You get good at passing exams, you graduate, you get a job. Everything is great. But it’s a false sense of security because if you’re going to learn and grow, fucking up is inevitable.”

  “So if you’re saying my choking was always going to happen, why did you take me to the presentation?” I tried to pull my leg away but he held on tight.

  “I might be good but I’m not a fucking psychic. No one knows when they’re going to fail, just that they will at some point.”

  The pressure in my chest started to lift. He was right. Of course he was. “But I hate it.”

  “I’m sure Michael Jordan hated missing game-winning shots.”

  I didn’t say anything. I was new and inexperienced and I’d let it show.

  “Harper, it’s why I wanted you to present to Goldman’s. I didn’t want you to choke in front of your father.”

  Had he really been trying to protect me? Warmth for him spread through my body. I wasn’t used to someone having my back in such an obvious way. Not a man anyway. And I liked it. More than liked it.

  I pulled my foot from his hands and moved to straddle him. “You always say exactly the right thing.”

  He chuckled. “I think my daughter would disagree.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him briefly on his jaw. “You look sexy wet,” I said.

  “You look sexy all the time,” he replied.

  “Exactly the right thing,” I whispered and I pressed my lips to his. His tongue reached for mine.

  He shifted, pushing me away. “Come on. Let’s get out. I want to fuck you without being interrupted by neighbors complaining about water coming through their ceiling.”

  Well, I couldn’t argue with that logic, either.

  He held me tight as he walked me out of the bathroom and pushed me onto the bed, collapsing beside me. He opened my towel as if inspecting me for clues, his eyes raking over my naked body. “You’re beautiful,” he said, squinting as he said it, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

  A rush of panic hit me in the chest as I pushed my fingers through his hair. I couldn’t imagine not having this, not having him, to talk to, to kiss, to fuck. What would I do when this was all over?

  “I can’t wait for you to come to Connecticut,” he said. “I want to have you in my bed for a change.” He dipped his head and circled one of my nipples with his tongue.

  The pulling sensation in my stomach chased away the panic and I shifted my hips sideways, tangling my legs with his. His towel had fallen open and I reached for his hard, heavy cock. I shivered as I began to pump my fist up and down. He hissed through his teeth, throwing his head back.

  “I’ve been thinking about having your hands wrapped around my dick all day,” he said. “You’re so utterly distracting.”

  “And infuriating, remember?”

  He reached for my pussy, and I flicked my hips up to meet his fingers, always eager for his touch. “That’s part of the distraction, part of the attraction.” His fingers dipped inside me, his thumb pressing against my clitoris, the frustration and embarrassment of the day dissolving under his touch.

  “Do you think about me?” he asked, slowly thrusting into my hands. “You think about this?” He grazed my shoulder with his teeth, then bit down, causing me to moan.

  “All the time.” It was true. The only way I survived in the office was by avoiding him, but that was like trying to avoid gravity. My pull toward him was inevitable.

  I released his dick and he began to slide it over my sex, teasing, promising. I reached behind me for the nightstand, but he took over my search for a condom.

  “I’ve got to be inside you right now,” he whispered. “I’ve been wanting you all day.” He paused in his rhythm and I whimpered. “I know, Harper, I need it, too.”

  I’d never been so sexually vulnerable with a man, never offered up so much of myself. But with him it wasn’t a choice; it was mandatory. There was no other way I could be.

  He slipped his palms under my ass and pulled me toward him as he sat back onto his knees, the warmth of his eyes replacing his body heat.

  His gaze bore into me as he thrust. He didn’t take his time, but he didn’t rush, either, just moved into me with a strong, confident force that nearly had me climaxing—the feeling of being totally consumed by him mentally and physically pushing me to the brink, threatening to tip me over the edge.

  “Max,” I called out.

  “I’m here. I’m fucking you, needing you, owning you.”

  He was right. He did own me.

  I lifted my knees and he growled, “I’m going to fuck you over my desk one day while you look out over Manhattan, your skirt around your waist, your ass in the air.” He thrust again. “I want you in my bed in Connecticut, on the stairs, against the lobby wall of this apartment. I want you in every cab we ever share together. I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”

  His words drifted over me like sunshine, heating my skin, ridding my brain of shadows.

  I wanted him so badly it was almost terrifying. Before fear could take hold, pleasure pushed out from my belly and down my limbs. “Max,” I whispered, my fingernails digging into his skin.

  “I know. I know. I know.” He knew me, understood everything.

  In that moment we were joined; we were connected; we were inseparable.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Max

  “Good morning,” I said as I passed Donna’s desk. She looked at me suspiciously, probably because I was grinning.

  “You okay?” she asked from the doorway as I shrugged off my jacket.

  I looked up at her, still smiling. “I’m excellent, how are you?” Last night with Harper had been great. Sex had always been an important part of my routine, of my life, but with Harper there was a level of connection I’d never had with anyone else. Perhaps it was the reason my family continually bugged me about finding a girlfriend. Maybe they realized relationships could be this good, this easy with someone. Harper made me laugh, got me hot, and drove me crazy all within a ten-second window. I couldn’t get enough of her.

  “I’m okay, thanks. A little concerned the body snatchers have taken over my boss, but hey, we’re in Manhattan, so it’s to be expected.”

  “You’re too young to be so cynical, Donna,” I replied.

  “Okay, now you’re really starting to freak me out. Can I get you a coffee? Maybe that will kick you back into a normal gear,” she said as her phone rang. “Be right back,” she said, then closed the door.

  I sat down and spun my chair around, facing out into the city. I was about to land JD Stanley, my personal Everest. Amanda was happy and healthy. I was fucking the most beautiful girl I’d ever laid eyes on. No, we were doing more than fucking. Were we dating? I turned back to my desk. Maybe when she came up to Connecticut we should have a conversation about what we were doing. I wanted her to meet Scarlett and Violet properly—they could come over for drinks that evening, but I wanted her to myself when Amanda left for the dance. Maybe brunch the next morning would be better. I hoped Harper planned to stay over. Once I had her in my house, I knew I’d find it hard to let her leave.

  I pressed the speaker button when Donna buzzed my phone. “Charles Jayne on line one.”

  Puzzled, I picked up the receiver. Lunch had gone well. I had everything I needed and we were on track to nail our pitch next week. I hoped he wasn’t going to try to cancel on me.

  “Max King. How can I help?”

  “I want to talk to you about the presentation next week.”

  Shit, he was going to cancel. I sat back in my chair. I wouldn’t let him hear I was rattled. “Yes, sir, we’re looking forward to it. Harper’s been doing some excellent work. I’m sure
you’ll be impressed.”

  “It’s Harper’s involvement that I want to talk to you about.”

  I gripped the phone tighter. “I’m listening,” I replied, my tone a little more terse than before.

  “I like to keep my work life and my personal life separate,” Charles began. That had been my policy before Harper smudged the lines between the two. I still believed it was a good policy. Harper was just someone I couldn’t resist. But Charles had employed his sons in the business, so what he was saying didn’t make much sense.

  “Okay,” I replied.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for Harper to work on the JD Stanley account. You understand?”

  I pushed my chair away from my desk. “I’m not sure I do,” I replied.

  “I don’t want anyone to think that a decision I make on King & Associates has anything to do with Harper. Business is business.”

  “But I want to give you our best people and—”

  “It’s entirely up to you,” he said. “I’m not forcing you to do anything. But if you’re going to pitch next week, I don’t want Harper on the team.”

  Shit. I mean, I got it. And I thought I’d feel the same way. I wasn’t sure Harper would be so understanding. But he was a potential client, one I was desperate to land. “Of course, sir, it’s entirely up to you what team you want to work with.”

  “I’m pleased you understand. I’m looking forward to what you have to say.”

  I hung up and slumped back in my chair. Should I have said no? How would I tell Harper? I guess I could pull out? But this was the opportunity I’d been waiting for and Harper knew that. She’d understand, wouldn’t she? This wasn’t personal. It was business.

  Crap. I stood and grabbed my jacket. I needed some fresh air and common sense. “I’m going to Joey’s for a coffee,” I told Donna as I headed toward the elevators.

  “Everything okay?” she called after me. I couldn’t reply.

  Harper would understand. In fact, she might be relieved. She could take some time, build up her confidence after the way she’d choked at Goldman’s.