King (Endgame Book 1)

by Riley Ashby

  “This isn’t a job for a blunt instrument.” I sounded like a broken record. This was a discussion we’d had more than a few times. “We decided on that a long time ago. We need to stay the course.”

  What I didn’t say was I agreed with him. I wanted nothing more than to let him loose on that asshole and count every drop of blood spilled until he told us what we needed to know. If I admitted this, Castel would snap. He’d be out the door and down the drive before I could call him back.

  I tried to radiate calm, bring him back down. He was insatiable when it came to this, would focus on nothing else. Not that I could blame him. It was just that there was another woman demanding all my attention right now.

  “Don’t get distracted,” he growled at me from across the room. I was staring out the door where Sophie had disappeared.

  “I won’t,” I promised him. “This is too important.”

  But that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little bit of fun in the meantime.

  Before Castel stormed out of my office, he moved a piece on the chessboard near the window. When his footsteps faded, I jumped up and ran over to the board. I frowned. He had used his rook to put my king in check.

  “Little on the nose, don’t you think?” I yelled out the door, and his laugh echoed down the hall.

  I was handed off to a suited man I didn’t recognize, near the door we had entered. My father summoned some small feat of strength to jerk away, falling at my feet just as we were separated.

  “Thank you so much, Sophie,” he said, practically kissing my feet. I crouched down in front of him. I didn't know what to say; telling him to stay out of trouble was obviously useless, and it dawned on me that there was a real chance he might gamble away his life to another rich prick while I was trapped in this house. But he did look truly grateful.

  “Stay safe, Daddy,” was all I said in the end, and I pecked him on the cheek. He nodded furiously, trying his best to look abashed and thoughtful, but I knew where his mind was. How long he could go before he needed his next drink. Where he could get a cheap ride back home. Whether or not he could sell some of my stuff now for gambling money.

  If I’d still had a heart, it would have broken.

  The white room delivered what the name promised, from the carpet to the bedspread to the curtains. Abstract paintings in gilded gold frames adorned the wall in various shades of ivory and eggshell. Even the showerhead looked like bone china. My ratty red bag looked out of place dropped into the middle of the bed, so I reluctantly unloaded my clothes into the walk-in closet, which was as big as my room at home. I stashed the bag out of sight and then ventured into the bathroom.

  I was riddled with anxiety from the morning's events and exhausted from my overnight cleaning gig. It seemed like I was going to be around for a while, and this was more luxury than I was likely to experience again in my life. Taking advantage of the soaking tub was only natural.

  I had already stripped when I looked around to find there were no towels in the bathroom. I remembered the staff’s surprise when instructed to take me there; they weren't expecting a guest, at least not in this room. Pondering what to do—I didn't want to put my dirty clothes back on, and I had heard the door lock behind me anyway—I spotted a small intercom next to the sink. I pushed the button tentatively.

  A cheerful female voice issued forth. “Yes, Miss McDermott?”

  I started. How did this voice know my name already?

  “Um, I can't find towels?”

  “Oh goodness, I'm so sorry,” the voice apologized quickly. “As you can imagine, we've been rushing to get the room ready. I'll be by in a moment, all right?” Before I could respond, the line went dead. I found a robe on the back of the door and wrapped myself in it as the door opened.

  An older woman with short brown hair, no taller than me, walked into the room, beaming. “Here you are, dear. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience.”

  “It's okay, really,” I said, blushing. She was so deferential, it embarrassed me. I didn’t understand why the owner of the house would treat me like less than human, but this woman was speaking to me as if I were an honored guest. “Thank you.”

  “Of course. I have to finish some other items, but I'll be back to put away your luggage and take your measurements. We'll get you properly dressed.”

  “I … I put away my luggage already.” I didn’t know why I was so embarrassed about doing this myself.

  She blanched. “Oh, I'm sorry, I—”

  “Really, it’s fine. Please.” I rubbed my arms, and her expression became motherly. She stepped toward me and put her hands over mine.

  “This is all new for you. You'll get used to it soon.” She stepped back and clapped her hands. “Now, enjoy your bath. I'll be back in an hour or so, okay?” I nodded mutely, and she bustled outside, locking the door behind her again as I'm sure she was instructed to do.

  I closed my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair as I let it fall down my back, replaying the interaction while the tub filled. What the hell was this place? The goons that had taken me from my house had acted like robots, except for that small smile from the tall one when I insisted on going with them. Mr. King—I still didn't know his first name—was cold; this woman was the epitome of welcoming. Why was she showing me this much kindness? I couldn't get a read on the situation at all. Every time I met someone new, I felt less and less sure I could handle whatever was coming my way.

  Slipping into the warm water, I forced my shoulders to unlock. I sighed audibly and then ducked my head under the water as well. I could feel the grime of those men's hands floating off me. The soap was silky and luxuriant, and I worried about slipping when I did finally exit the tub. After drying off, I wrapped myself in the same robe as earlier, my hair twisted on top of my head. On the vanity were various expensive creams and oils for parts of my body I didn't even know they made specific creams for. I settled on using ones that appeared to be for the face and hands.

  The same woman who had brought me the towels was waiting for me back in the bedroom. “Hello again, Miss McDermott,” she said pleasantly. “I need to get your measurements, and then you can get back to resting. Do you mind?”

  “No, of course not.” I was slipping into the customer service mentality, trying to be as polite as possible to the stranger in front of me. I stumbled into the closet, pulling on a clean bra and panties, and stood on a small platform in the middle of the closet while the woman measured various parts of my body.

  “What is this for?” I asked, yawning.

  “Your new wardrobe,” the woman replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then, she seemed to remember my unfamiliarity with the situation. “Ellery demands a quality appearance at all times. Trust me, it's easier to let him pick out your clothes.”

  I bristled. Let this man I didn't know choose my clothes for me? I tried to focus. “Ellery?”

  She rushed to fix her mistake. “Well, yes, but you should call him Mr. King, at least for now. He'll let you know if you can use his first name.”

  “And you?”

  She beamed. “Karen Bells. Please call me Karen. I run the household staff here. I'm also currently the only woman on staff. Please feel free to ask for me specifically if you need anything.” She cleared her throat and wrapped the tape measure around my waist. “Many women have a difficult time with Ellery's management style. He’s a fastidious man, and he hires men that are much like him. They can be a little … rough.”

  I didn't know how to respond. Ellery sounded more and more like a man I didn't want to be around. I wrapped my arms around myself as Karen put away her measuring tape, feeling suddenly vulnerable. She noticed the change in my demeanor.

  “Miss McDermott …”

  “Please just call me Sophie. I can’t stand this … this … reverence you’re showing me.”

  I dug my fingernails into the backs of my arms, pinching that strangely sensitive flesh, trying to root myself. Now was not the time to start digging u
p emotions. I was barely holding it together, and I had only been here for a few hours.

  Before I could think further, Karen had stepped toward me and put her hands on my arms again, giving me such a pitying look that I had to fight back the urge to burst into tears. Instead, I swallowed the stone in my throat and willed myself to hold still while this strange woman touched me.

  “You must be so confused. I just want to make you as comfortable as possible.” She finally released me, stepping back as if finally taking stock of my standoffish body language.

  I tried to calm down. “Do you know why I’m here? I was expecting to be …” A slave. “I don’t know, but not this. Why are you being so nice to me?”

  Though the smile remained plastered on her face, something changed in her eyes as I spoke. “I’m sure it will all be explained as soon as possible. Go on back to sleep now. I understand you have a cleaning job, and I know how exhausting that can be more than anyone else here.”

  With some hesitation, I let her take my hand and pull me back to the bed. She was right. I was tired. That must be the reason I was tearing up. And I clearly wasn’t going to get any answers out of her. I slipped beneath the comforter, light as a cloud but also warm, and was surprised when Karen pulled it up to my chin. It had been a long time since anyone tucked me in, and I was too old for it anyway. Still, it was nice.

  “Things will become clearer once Ellery talks to you. I think you two will get on splendidly. Until then, try to relax, okay?”

  I nodded, already feeling myself slipping back underneath the cover of sleep. I thought she might have kissed my forehead before she left, but I couldn’t be sure.

  *

  I woke up on my own a few hours later, stretching in the bed and wondering for a second how much space I had before I remembered where I was. The realization made me promptly bury my face in the pillow. The more time passed, the more I was berating myself for volunteering for this role. There was no reason for this strange man to be treating me so cordially … unless he wanted something from me. There wasn’t a lot that I had to give. I didn’t think I would be willing to part with what he wanted from me.

  Rested and restless, I got up to examine my room more closely. A shoe rack and dresser sat within the giant closet, in addition to enough hanging space to have a different outfit every day of the year. A white cabinet along one wall in the bedroom revealed a large TV and cable box. It seemed incongruent with the rest of the elegant house that something so mundane as a TV existed within its walls. I flicked through channels, finding trashy reality television that let me forget this strange situation for a while.

  The door unlocked without a knock, and Karen came in smiling once more.

  “It's about dinner time, dear. Let's get you dressed.”

  Moving to the closet, she hung up the garment bag slung over her arm and unzipped it. “I don’t know if this is your size, but it should do for tonight.”

  I stared in shock at the dress before me. This was what I was supposed to wear to dinner? The floor length formal gown sparkled brighter than anything I had ever worn before, and it wasn’t even on my body yet. It looked like a garment I would wear to a wedding.

  Or a date, I thought, but I pushed that out of my head. I shouldn’t be focusing so much on the beauty of his jawline.

  Karen laughed at my shocked expression. “I told you, Ellery prefers his household well-dressed. Now go do your face and run a brush through your hair.”

  Shocked but unwilling to argue, I quickly applied some makeup and brushed my hair, then pinned it back into an updo a bit nicer than my typical ponytail. Karen happily zipped me into the dress, gushing over how it fit. Looking in the mirror, I had to admit she had a point. The deep midnight blue both complemented and contrasted with my pale eyes. The deep V-neck was flattering to my chest, which I usually considered too flat.

  “He does have a good eye, doesn't he?”

  I spun around to face her. “Ell—Mr. King picked this out?”

  She nodded, still admiring the dress. “I don't know where he was hiding this, but it fits you like a glove. Now, slip on the shoes. I'll take you downstairs.”

  She gestured to a pair of heels I hadn't noticed before. Again, they fit me perfectly, and I unsteadily made my way across the thick carpet as Karen led me through a long hallway and down a flight of stairs. I had to hold up the skirt of the dress with one hand, the other on the railing, as I walked down the stairs. It made me feel a bit like a first-class passenger on the Titanic, walking to dinner with my secret lover. Then I remembered most of the people on that boat died.

  The floor turned to hard stone as we entered a room featuring a long banquet table. Seated at the head was the man I had spoken to earlier today.

  He didn't look up as we approached, though my heels clicked along the floor. I took a moment to appraise him. His jet-black hair was slicked back from his head, not in any apparent style but more like he had made such a habit of knocking it out of his eyes that it finally decided to stay where he put it. The lines of his jaw were sharp, a razor’s edge I found myself longing to touch. His skin was tan as if he spent time outdoors—but only just enough. Despite my lack of knowledge on the subject, even I could tell his suit was expensive. His cufflinks looked like diamonds.

  And his eyes—I could see the green even from here—dark as a forest.

  I half expected him to rise when I approached the table, given the formality of our dress, but he barely glanced at me.

  “Thank you, Karen. You may go now. Miss McDermott, have a seat.” He gestured flippantly at the chair in front of me. Karen gave me a final reassuring smile as she took off toward a door at the other end of the table.

  I sat cautiously, unsure whether I should say anything. Only when I was settled in the chair did Ellery set down his phone and look at me thoroughly.

  “How do you like the dress?” he asked, his gaze lingering on my chest. I resisted the urge to cross my arms.

  “It's gorgeous. Thank you … for picking it out, I mean.”

  He nodded curtly. “You're welcome. And it's yours if you want to keep it. When you leave.”

  I swallowed, trying not to wince. This dress likely cost enough to pay the mortgage on our house for a year. If I really could take what I wanted when I left—when he allowed me to leave—I wouldn't leave anything behind, no matter my feelings on it. I would sell it all.

  “Thank you,” I said again, at a loss for words.

  At that moment, a thin man I hadn't seen before entered the room with a tray of food. He placed a plate in front of me, a hearty salad with garbanzo beans and heirloom tomatoes. My mouth watered and I realized how hungry and thirsty I was. I took a long drink from my water.

  Glancing at Ellery to see if he had started eating yet, I was surprised to meet his eyes. I blushed, wondering if I had gulped the water too loudly.

  “Will the food be acceptable?” His voice was dry, like he didn't care either way. He had a steak.

  I nodded vigorously. “Yes, thank you. I don't … I don't eat meat.”

  “Or dairy or eggs. I know.” He finally looked away from me and took a bite of red meat. “The kitchen had to work on short notice today, but there will be more substantial meals going forward. If anything is not to your liking, let the kitchen know, and they'll correct it.”

  My head was spinning. This was too much. I could keep the expensive clothes? Tell the kitchen if the gourmet meals they produced weren't good enough? What the hell was going on?

  I tried to take a bite, but my hand shook. My mouth still felt dry, and I took another sip to help me swallow the food. Risking another glance, I met Ellery's eyes once more. Where I was anxious and jittery, he seemed utterly at ease. He leaned heavily to one side, resting his arm on the table, and chewed.

  “Is there a problem?”

  I breathed deeply and set down the fork. I didn't like him looking at me. I felt naked.

  “Why am I here, Mr. King? I mean, I don't think that repay
ing my father's debt—whatever it is—entitles me to … this kind of treatment.”

  “You're complaining?”

  I flushed deeply. “No, God no. It's just … I don't understand. If you could please explain to me what's going on … what's expected of me, I'd be appreciative.” He blinked quickly, and I fumbled. “Not that I'm not appreciative of your generosity thus far. I … I'm confused.”

  Finally, he tore his eyes away and took a sip from his glass. The muscles of his neck worked beneath the thin skin as he swallowed. He wiped his lips with a napkin then looked at me again.

  “Do you know who I am? What I do?”

  I shook my head and looked at the table, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “No, sir.” I bit my thumbnail viciously.

  “Look at me,” he commanded, and I reluctantly raised my eyes. “And stop chewing your thumb.” I dropped my hand immediately. There was the longest pause as I licked my lips, not realizing it until his eyes flicked to my mouth for the shortest second. “I'm a businessman, Miss McDermott. Some of my dealings are legal, others less so. I won't sugarcoat it for you, but do not expect to learn anything about my business. When you leave here, you will have no knowledge that would be of value to the authorities … should you have the suicidal inclination to report me.”

  He resumed eating, and I attempted the same. The threat should have scared me, but I wasn’t intimidated. I doubted I would understand any kind of business dealings he was involved with, even if he tried to explain it to me. There would be no way I could turn him over for illegal dealings that I didn’t understand myself. The calm way he comported himself, owning his authority, calmed me rather than scared me. Even if he was a bit of a criminal, he was at least being straightforward.

  He continued speaking between bites. “Your father has obviously made a lot of mistakes in his life, but he fucked up big this time. He owes a lot of money to a powerful man, with whom I have a shared business interest. I had planned to hand over your father, but…” he shrugged one shoulder “…he’ll be much happier with you.”