The Fearless King (The Kings #2)

by Katee Robert

  “Let’s keep this short.” Anderson held out a chair for her—as far away from their father as the table allowed. The move warmed some of the cold from her body, even though she knew he did it more to spite Elliott than to protect her.

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

  Easier said than done.

  She sank into the chair and arranged her long skirt around her. “I’m surprised you’re back in Houston, Elliott. I thought you hated this place.”

  “Oh, that.” He waved it away. “Home is home, regardless of the baggage that comes with it. Isn’t that right, Andy?”

  “It’s relative.” The words were so clipped, it was a wonder he didn’t chip his tooth.

  Eliza shifted, drawing both men’s attention to her—and away from each other. “You said you had a specific reason you wanted to see me?”

  The smile fell away from Elliott’s face, leaving a serious mask in its place. The earnest father, who wasn’t willing to spare the rod for fear of spoiling the child, but who would do it out of love rather than anger. It was as much a lie as anything else about him. “You’ve done good, my girl, but it’s time to stop playing around and come home.”

  She sat up straighter. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your siblings have all done their duty to the family.” He twisted his mouth as if sharing an inside joke just between the two of them. “Now it’s your turn.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his own, and it took everything she had not to drive her fork into the fleshy part of his forearm.

  The room fell away around them, the rushing sound loud in her ears overwhelming everything else. But not loud enough to drown out his next words. “It’s not so much to give, really, my girl. Asher Bishop is attractive enough, and he’s got the kind of money that can ensure you keep up the lifestyle you should be accustomed to.”

  “Explain what the fuck you mean, old man,” Anderson snarled.

  Elliott never took his gaze from her. “It’s already set in stone, Eliza. You’re a vital part of securing a merger that will move Kingdom Corp into the big leagues, where it’s always belonged.” His smile widened, as if he thought she’d be pleased with this turn of events. As if he dared her not to be happy. “No point in theatrics or threats. What’s done is done.”

  It took two tries to get her words into the air between them. “What are you talking about?” she repeated.

  “You’re going to marry Asher Bishop, linking our future with Cardinal Energy, both in family and in business.”

  Chapter Ten

  Frank walked into the hotel lobby approximately thirty minutes after Journey called. Regal Legacy Hotel and Spa was one of the fancier properties that had gone up a couple of decades ago, parked right in central downtown Houston. It boasted some of the biggest events in the city throughout the year, in addition to the spa being a draw for the rich and bored when their lives got to be too stressful.

  He found Journey in the bar off the main lobby, staring into a glass of whiskey. There was no one around this time of day, so Frank strode through the empty tables and slid onto the next bar stool over. He ran a critical eye over her. In the few hours since he’d seen her, she’d lost the slightly rested look she’d acquired over the weekend, but she wasn’t close to her breaking point, as best he could tell. “Strange place for a meeting.”

  “Is it?” She shrugged a single shoulder. “We’re supposed to be newly dating. It’s not out of the realm of possibilities that we’d meet up to bump uglies.”

  “Bump uglies. Is that the technical term?”

  Journey twisted to face him. She’d changed clothes since he saw her last, and now she wore a knee-length body-skimming deep blue dress with a square neckline. Again, she wore fuck-me shoes, this time strappy black ones that crisscrossed at her ankles. The dress shone slightly in the low light, an invitation to touch that he had no business taking her up on. Her breath hitched and he watched her nipples press against her dress. She let loose a soft curse. “How can you look at me like that and kiss me like you mean it and then just…walk away? Am I really that disposable to you?”

  Surprise had him speaking ill-advised words. “Not disposable. Never that.” He motioned for the bored-looking bartender to give him the same drink Journey had. “I meant what I said over the weekend—I want you in my bed because you want to be there, not because you’re hurt and looking for a parachute while in a free fall.”

  “Frank.” Her smile made something uncomfortable twang in his chest. “I’m never not in a free fall. Most days I just hide it better. Maybe I had a chance at being healthy once, or maybe that option was taken from me a long time ago, but the end result is that I’m stuck in a cycle of maintaining and clusterfuck. The clusterfuck times have been decreasing over the years, and getting further and further apart, but all it took was a few specific dominoes lined up, and down I go.” She mimed tipping the first domino. “So if you’re waiting for the stars to align and me to be in perfect emotional health before you fuck me…I hope you’re not holding your breath.”

  Layers upon layers in those words. Frank didn’t do well with broken things. Discarded, things, yes. He excelled at seeing the strength in people despite their circumstances and offering them the opportunity to stand on their own—and he obtained their undying loyalty in the process. Loyalty was just another kind of power. He didn’t fix people. He didn’t even know where to start. The one time he’d tried—with his mother—her spiral had taken her to a place so dark, there was nothing he could do. She died, and he learned his lesson. Never again. “Duchess, you need a white knight. I’m not that. I’m never going to be that.”

  She picked up her glass and drained half of it. “I don’t need a knight, Frank. I need a goddamn sword and the skills to save myself. I’ve played the part of damsel in distress. It’s not a comfortable fit for me.” She met his gaze steadily, a tangled mess of emotions lurking in those hazel eyes. Anger. Fear. Despair. Desire. “Know anyone who makes a mean suit of armor?”

  She’s not asking me to fix her.

  He nodded in thanks at the bartender when the woman deposited a second glass of whiskey in front of him. “I know what you think of me, but I’m not in the business of dealing harm to those who don’t deserve it.”

  “Who said I don’t deserve it?” She huffed out a soft laugh. “God, Frank, you should see your face. So serious. I’m not asking you to fuck away all my broken edges. I’m telling you that I’m an adult and can make my own decisions and accept the consequences. I want you. You want me. There isn’t a single reason we shouldn’t be upstairs in a room right now having outstanding sex.”

  Why was he fighting this so hard?

  You know why.

  He downed his whiskey. “We need to have a conversation about why you called me today. I’ll get us a room so we can have some privacy for it.”

  “Conversation, sure.” She set her empty glass next to his.

  Damn it, the woman drove him out of his fucking mind. Frank captured her wrist, forcing her to look at him. “You’ve said your piece, and so have I. Ultimately that changes nothing. This is a business deal, Duchess.”

  The desire died in her eyes, leaving only the toxic mix of fear and despair. “I hear you, Frank. Loud and clear.” She turned and strode away, leaving him staring after her.

  Goddamn it, he was making the right call. It didn’t matter how her ass filled out that tease of a dress or how good she smelled or how badly he wanted to do whatever it took to chase the darkness from her eyes and make her forget for a little while. It wasn’t his job. His job was to find Elliott Bancroft’s weak spot and exploit it enough to banish the man from her life.

  Distraction meant danger for her.

  But she’s in fucking danger right now, and I’m only making it worse.

  And round and round he went.

  There was no black and white in this situation—only gray. Frank couldn’t shake the feeling that one wrong step would send Journey tumbling pa
st the point of no return and leave her truly broken.

  He couldn’t be responsible for that.

  He paid the bartender and followed her at a more moderate pace. By the time he reached the lobby, Journey had a hotel key in her hand. She didn’t look at him as he fell into step beside her and they walked to the elevator. Silence reigned on the ride up to their floor and the short walk to the room. She closed the door, twisted the lock, and then slumped against it. “I just can’t help but keep throwing myself at you, no matter how many times you tell me no. Isn’t that the definition of insanity?” She laughed, the sound filled to the brim with despair. “I’m drowning, Frank. No matter how many moves I make, he’s always two steps ahead, and he knew exactly what buttons to push to make the ground fall out from beneath my feet.”

  Frank stopped thinking so damn much and reacted on instinct. He pulled Journey into his arms and held her tightly. She felt so slight like this, as if a sharp word would send her breaking into a million pieces. Finally, slowly, she lifted her arms and hugged him back. “Is this a pity hug?”

  “What happened this morning in the office, Duchess?”

  She tensed and then buried her face in his shoulder and let out a shuddering breath. “My father hired a shrink to come in and evaluate those holding executive positions in the company to see if they were fit to serve on the board—and maintain their jobs. She ambushed me today, and even though I knew it wouldn’t go my way, she basically had a bullet-pointed list designed to hit every single weak spot I have.” Another of those heartbreaking laughs. “I have more than a few.”

  From a tactical standpoint, it made sense, but that didn’t stop Frank from wanting to bash that bastard’s face in for subjecting her to this. War. This is war. You can’t afford to forget that. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. The timing caught me off guard but the line of questioning didn’t.” She rubbed her nose against his shirt. “You smell criminally good.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Right. Focus.” Some of the tension bled out of her body and she melted against him. “There was one part of the so-called session that surprised me—she was hyper-focused on my relationship with you.” Journey raised her head to look up at him. “Something about you, specifically, has him pissed. I thought it might just be because you’re a force to be reckoned with inside of Houston, but the same applies to my cousin, and he hasn’t made any effort to contact Beckett.” She sighed. “I guess it could be old-fashioned racism, too. I just don’t know.”

  “I think a good portion of it actually is old-fashioned racism.” He considered keeping his cards close to his chest, but ultimately Frank had no more answers than Journey did when it came to the question of Elliott’s fascination with him. “But you’re right—there’s more. He’s a bully and I challenged him when I showed up at your apartment. If he views you as his, that territorial feeling might be enough to drive him to attempt to run me off.”

  “That sounds like him. He can’t stand losing, and my mother made sure he lost all four of us. He obviously never got over having his toys taken away.”

  “Duchess—”

  “You’re right. I’m sure you’re right. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” Her gaze fell to his lips and then jerked back to his eyes. “Sorry. I’m focusing. I promise.”

  All his reasons for staying the hell away from Journey King disappeared in the face of her disarming smile. She fought so fucking hard to be strong, to not need anyone around her. She stood there in his arms and did her damnedest to respect the lines he kept drawing in the sand.

  Fuck it.

  What was one more sin to weigh his soul down?

  Frank kissed her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Journey should have told Frank to fuck right off with his mixed signals. She should have gathered up what remained of her tattered pride, walked out of the hotel room, and shut the door firmly behind her. She should have done anything but slide her arms around his neck in silent demand for him to give her more. To make her forget.

  Touch me. Purge the poison, if only for a little while.

  It would come back. It always came back. Within hours, she’d be choking on the past and fighting herself as hard as she fought the new threats her father had leveled at her.

  But she wouldn’t be doing it while Frank had his hands on her.

  He kept one arm around her waist, clenching her to him, and lifted the other to grip the back of her neck. It grounded her, a physical reminder of where she was, of who touched her. Frank. He lifted his head slowly and studied her mouth as if memorizing the curve of her lips. “You’re sure.”

  It wasn’t quite a question, but she nodded as much as she was able. “Yes.”

  Still, he didn’t move. “You know the rules—you change your mind, we stop. No questions asked, no explanations required.”

  Journey closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. This might very well be a pity fuck, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She needed what he offered, no matter the motivation behind it. I chose this. That was the only thing that mattered. “Kiss me again, Frank.”

  This time, he didn’t hesitate. He took her mouth, shifting his grip to bracket the front of her throat, guiding her to the angle he desired. His body caged her without crushing her, taking what he wanted even as he created space for her to kiss him back. Somehow holding her down and lifting her up at the exact same time.

  She’d never felt more free.

  Yes. This. She pushed up on her toes and surrendered everything. Right then, in that moment, she was safe. Frank would fuck every thought from her head. He would leave marks on her body to remember him by, but he wouldn’t harm her. She wanted everything he’d give her.

  Everything and more.

  He let go of her waist to yank her dress up so he could cup her from behind, his hand sliding roughly down the center of her ass to push two fingers into her pussy. She jumped and then moaned, pushing back against the intrusion, trying to take him deeper. He turned them without missing a beat and half walked, half carried her backward to the bed. Frank lifted his head enough to say, “I make a wrong move, you let me know.”

  It was more command than question, but she was already nodding. “Don’t stop.”

  He withdrew his fingers, but before she could mourn the loss, he pulled her dress off and tossed it over his shoulder. Her bra and panties followed, leaving her naked and him fully clothed. She froze, but he was already moving, using a hand on the center of her chest to guide her back onto the bed. “Leave the shoes on.”

  She propped herself onto her elbows and watched him strip, each move as efficient as everything he seemed to do. The suit jacket was draped over the desk chair, followed by the tie. “I want to see.”

  He turned to face her as he unbuttoned the dove gray shirt, revealing an intoxicating slice of dark brown skin and a muscled chest that spoke of serious control and countless hours in the gym. “God, Frank, you’re sexy as fuck.”

  “The fact you can say that while looking like you do right now…” A muscle twitched in his jaw, and his dark eyes went scorching hot. “Spread your legs for me, Duchess. Let me see how much you need what I’m going to give you.”

  She obeyed immediately, scooting back onto the mattress enough that she could prop her heels on the edge of it, giving him exactly what he’d commanded. Journey watched him through half-closed eyes as she ran her hands over her breasts, pausing to pinch her nipples, and then down to stroke her thighs.

  His movements lost their fluidity and he yanked off his pants quickly enough that she was worried he’d popped a button somewhere, but then nothing mattered because he stood before her, gloriously naked. He produced a condom from somewhere and rolled it on quickly. Anticipation coursed through her, molten and wicked and needy. “I don’t want to wait any more.”

  “Tough shit.” He hit his knees in front of her and grasped her thighs in the exact same place he had in his office. His fingers dug into the muscle, the instant ac
he drawing a gasp from her lips. Then his mouth was on her pussy, kissing her thoroughly. He claimed her, alternating between fucking her with his tongue and giving her little nips that made her nerve endings spark in response. Through it all, he kept a viselike grip on her thighs, anchoring her in this moment, in this hotel room, with him.

  She reached down and clasped his wrists as he sucked on her clit, working her with his tongue and just the slightest edge of his teeth. Somehow he knew exactly what she needed, exactly where to draw the line to keep it from being too much. Pleasure and pain coiled inside her, intrinsically linked until she didn’t know which was which. “Frank, oh fuck, Frank.”

  He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, didn’t do anything but continue the delicious assault with his mouth. There was no teasing, just the full-throttle rush toward the orgasm looming through her entire body. It hit her between one breath and the next, bowing her back and curling her toes in her shoes, drawing his name from her lips, though whether it was benediction or curse was beyond her.

  She barely had a chance to release his wrists when he flipped her onto her stomach. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and his thighs roughly pushed hers wider. He covered her with his body, his chest solid against her back. It felt so good, she moaned. He drew her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck as he reached between them and positioned his cock at her entrance. “We good?”

  “Don’t you dare stop,” she gasped.

  He set his teeth against the back of her neck as he shoved into her to the hilt. She whimpered even as she tried to take him deeper, to have him fill her even more, until he chased away the empty spots lurking in her soul. Frank caught her wrists and pinned them to the bed as he leveraged himself back to withdraw and slam into her again. His rough breathing was direct counterpoint to hers, the only other sound in the room the rough contact of flesh against flesh.