by L.H. Cosway
I snorted. It was pretty fucking elegant. “Noooo.”
A moment later, I took in his appearance properly, noticing that he was still wearing the same suit from yesterday. He looked more tired than I’d ever seen him, and he smelled like a brewery. It was so disconcerting that I failed to notice him lunging for my phone and pulling it from my grip. I watched as his fingers zipped across the screen before he handed it back to me. Forcing myself to look down, I saw he’d forwarded the pictures to his own email.
“That was a dirty move,” I complained.
He gave me a wry look. “I’m in those pictures, too. I have every right to see them.”
Well, he had me there. Still, it didn’t take away my embarrassment. Those photos were verging on soft-core porn, and he was my boss. It was so many levels of wrong, I couldn’t even begin to count.
This was why I needed to say no to Bradley’s propositions in future. Note to self: Don’t give in to the mischievous pixie boy next time. My cheeks began to flush as King came and sat beside me, pulling out his phone. It was ridiculous, because I was never normally embarrassed about sex stuff, but with King everything was just opposite land. I never quite knew where we stood with one another. I was silent as he focused on his phone, and I didn’t even have to look to know he was accessing his email and downloading the pictures he’d just forwarded.
God, I kind of hated him in that moment.
I tried to ignore him, but as the minutes ticked by, I lost the battle. Turning, I found his lips curved in what appeared to be a smug smile. The photos were displayed on the screen of his phone, and King kept scrolling back and forth, perusing them at his leisure as though taunting me to say something.
“Just delete them,” I sighed.
He glanced at me, brow arched. “Why would I do that?”
“Because we look stupid,” I huffed. We didn’t look stupid. We looked insanely hot for each other, which was exactly the problem. King was about to speak when an air hostess’s voice announced the flight was ready to board. I picked up my carry-on, noticing that King hadn’t brought anything with him other than a slim black briefcase. All of his things were in his checked luggage.
He gestured for me to go ahead of him, and I self-consciously smoothed my hands down the back of my skirt, wondering if I had a visible panty line. I’d always had this sixth sense for when someone was looking at my arse, and right then it was telling me that was exactly what King was doing. Was he actively trying to make this trip more difficult?
He leaned close, his mouth at my neck as he said, “I think we look fascinating.”
Fascinating. Right. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Once we were seated on the plane, King closed his eyes and let out a long breath. Despite his earlier playfulness, something was obviously up with him. I studied him a moment, then asked, “Care to share?”
One eye opened. He didn’t say a word, so I continued, “You’re wearing the same suit from yesterday, and you smell like you took a swim in a brewery. This isn’t like you.”
He sighed. “You’ve known me a couple of weeks, Alexis. You have no idea what is and isn’t like me.”
“Look, I’m not trying to be nosy. I’m just concerned, that’s all. You’ve been drinking a lot, and coming from someone who used to work in a bar, I know a problem when I see one.”
“There’s no problem,” said King.
I stared at him, disbelieving. If he wanted to fool himself into thinking he didn’t have a problem, then fine, I wasn’t going to push it. Getting up from my seat, I reached up to the overhead compartment and pulled out my carry-on. It had a brand new set of travel toiletries inside, including a mini-toothbrush.
“You can use these if you’d like to go freshen up,” I said stiffly, holding the set out to him.
He looked up at me, not taking it. A long moment of silence passed, his light eyes turning stormy. Finally, and without saying a word, he took the toiletries and left to use the bathroom. About ten minutes later he returned, looking a little better than he had. Though if the smell of him earlier was anything to go by, he must have been suffering from one hell of a hangover. The flight progressed in silence, as I focused on reading a magazine I’d brought with me. When the air hostess stopped by to ask if we’d like anything to eat or drink, I practically held my breath. There was an array of alcoholic beverages available to order, and I just knew King was considering them. Instead, he shook his head, and the woman moved on to the next passengers. Well, that was a relief.
Before I knew it, we were landing in Rome. After we departed the plane, I went to collect our bags from the carousel, while King excused himself to the bathroom. By the pale look on his face, I thought he might be going to throw up. I knew I was right when he found me several minutes later, a little of the colour having returned to his cheeks. Perhaps he’d now learned his lesson not to overdo it in future.
A car was waiting for us outside, and drove us to a hotel a distance from the city near a place called Ostia. King had insisted on staying there because it was one of his favourites, and I could see why. It had an outdoor swimming pool and beautiful gardens, which got me excited. I had to remind myself I was there to work, not for a fancy holiday.
Rummaging for the folder of documents Gillian had sent me via email last night, I retrieved our booking and presented it to the receptionist, while King stood back, his phone held to his ear as he carried out a work conversation. I was vaguely aware of the receptionist informing me we had adjoining rooms as she handed me the key cards. King must have seen the WTF look on my face, because he lowered his phone for a second to explain, “It’s easier this way. Gillian always books adjoining rooms so that we don’t have to go traipsing halfway around hotels to find one another.”
And then he was back on the phone. Well, that was…convenient. A bellboy came to take our bags, and before I knew it, I was alone in my room, flopping down on the bed and wondering what I’d gotten myself into. We didn’t have to meet with the clients until dinner, and Italians ate late, so that gave me a couple of hours to rest up. I lay there for a while, tired, because no matter how short the journey, flights always seemed to drain me of energy.
In the end, I decided to treat myself and run a bath. I enjoyed a nice long soak and got out only when my fingers had started to turn to prunes. Wrapping a white fluffy towel around my body, I grabbed another and scrunched my hair dry. Usually, if I just towel-dried my hair and didn’t brush it, it went really curly. Just as I was laying the black dress I planned to wear to the business dinner out on the bed, I heard a soft knock on the door that led to King’s room.
Before I had the chance to react, the knob turned, and my boss stepped inside.
Eleven
Why hadn’t I thought to lock the door? Jesus, though, he could have waited for me to call him in before opening it.
I stood there, frozen to the spot in my short towel and damp hair. King had clearly showered and changed into a new suit. In fact, he looked like a whole new man, no longer rumpled and hungover. The moment he saw me, he glanced away. Well, no, that’s not quite what he did. His gaze made a quick perusal of my body, paying particular attention to the swell of my breasts. His jaw ticked, and then he glanced away. His close attention literally made me flush from my cheeks to the tips of my toes.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be dressed.”
“Well, I’m not,” I said, stating the obvious.
There was a strain in his voice as he echoed my statement. “No, you’re not.”
“Could you give me a half-hour? I just need to get ready.”
King let out a breath. “We don’t have the time. Mr Hirota’s assistant just called to say they were moving the meeting to another venue. He’s notorious for changing things around on a whim. Unfortunately, he’s the one we’re trying to win over, so we have to pander to it.”
I looked back at him. He stared at me. We were locked in a moment, and neither one of us made a move to break
it, even though I was standing there almost naked. King seemed unusually stressed, and it was curious because he was never stressed to meet with clients. Over the past couple of weeks I’d witnessed him secure a number of business deals, but there was something different about this one, like he was extra determined for it to be successful. It made me wonder why. Gillian had told me that Mr Hirota was the Japanese-American owner of a chain of hotels with a deep love for ancient Roman history, which was why he lived here. There was nothing particularly unusual about him, though, so I was lost as to why King was on edge.
“Okay, just give me two minutes, then,” I said, finally breaking the silence and picking up my dress. King nodded, his eyes lingering on my bare thighs as I turned and went inside the bathroom.
Not helping, Oliver.
I wouldn’t have time to put on makeup, so I guessed the au naturel look was going to have to do. I also wore ballet flats instead of heels. I had just enough time to give my appearance one last perusal in the mirror. I looked fine, definitely not business fancy, but fine nonetheless. I realised just how much taller King was than me when I stepped outside and stood before him without any heels on. He glanced down, eyes tender, and I wondered if he was noticing the same thing.
He shook his head as though to clear his thoughts, and I busied myself. Grabbing the contracts we needed for the meeting, I shoved them in my handbag and allowed King to lead me out the door. We took the elevator down to the lobby, King resting his hand on the small of my back for a moment. It reminded me of my first morning at the office, when he’d touched me in a similar way. It had confused me then. Now I knew it was intentional. I thought that maybe King was a man who enjoyed pushing the boundaries of his own willpower.
A car provided by Mr Hirota was waiting for us outside the hotel. King was busy working on his tablet during the drive, while I enjoyed the passing scenery. I got to see a few cool ruins and even the Coliseum before we entered a busy district full of bars and restaurants. Then we stopped in front of what was very clearly a strip club.
King glanced out the window, did an almost comical double take, then swore under his breath before letting his head fall back against the headrest. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
A small moment of quiet elapsed, and I couldn’t help it — I laughed. King turned to face me, his eyes narrowed, but I could tell from the set of his mouth that he was resisting a smile.
“This isn’t funny, Alexis.”
“Oh, come on,” I said. “You have to admit, it’s a little bit funny. I feel like I’m in some gangster film and we’re about to meet with a scary mob boss.”
I expected my joke to make him laugh. Unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite effect. His expression grew serious and he turned away, clearing his throat. The driver emerged from the front of the car and came around to open my door. Kind of fancy behaviour for someone who was essentially dropping us off at a titty bar.
“Why, thank you, sir,” I said to the driver in a humorous tone. It got a tiny smile out of King, which was something at least. I liked that I could still amuse him even when he was in a decidedly dour mood. As we approached the entrance, King slid his arm through mine. “You stick close to me tonight, Alexis.”
“Why?” I asked, curious.
“Because,” he answered low, “if Mr Hirota is willing to do business in a place like this, then I worry how he might behave with a woman who looks like you.”
I chuckled and deadpanned, “Tell me about it. Wherever I go, I’m constantly terrorised by men getting spontaneous erections around me. It’s such a chore being a sex bomb.”
Again, King appeared to be fighting his urge to laugh. In the end, his serious side won out, and I gave in. “I’m joking. And don’t worry — I’ll stick to you like glue, Oliver.”
He gave me a warm look, and then we were entering the darkness of the booby cave. Okay, I’ll stop. Nudity just made me giddy like a five-year-old. A scantily clad woman greeted us and led us to a VIP section at the back of the club. All the while I was wondering if this was still going to be a business “dinner.” I was far from stuck up, but the idea of eating food prepared in a strip club just didn’t float my boat. Yeah, I was definitely going to wait until we got back to the hotel, and then I’d be making one hell of an order to room service. What with all the travelling, I’d hardly had the chance to eat all day.
It was kind of funny that I paid more attention to the topless dancing ladies up on the stage than King did. Call it morbid fascination. I knew King was slightly ticked off about the venue, but it probably wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. I hate to stereotype, but businessmen liked to look at boobs. It was a known fact.
In the VIP section there were a few more dancing ladies and a large table where several men sat. I immediately recognised Mr Hirota as the Japanese guy in the white suit, black shirt, and white tie. A white suit! How oh how was I going to keep from commenting on that?
Mr Hirota immediately stood when he saw King, holding out his hand for a shake. King took it, and the two exchanged the usual pleasantries.
“This is my assistant, Alexis Clark,” said King, distracting me from the glare of the white suit and ushering me forward.
“Alexis, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Mr Hirota while giving me a quick once-over.
“Likewise, Mr Hirota.”
He grinned. “Please, call me Kei.”
We sat, and the woman who’d greeted us at the door came and asked if we’d like any drinks. King requested a Scotch, and I just went with orange juice. Somehow, I got the feeling this wasn’t a scenario I wanted to get drunk in. Knowing me, I’d end up doing something to embarrass myself. Even though it was a strip club, I was there in a professional capacity, so I needed to act like it.
“How was your flight, Oliver?” Mr Hirota asked.
“It was fine,” King replied smoothly.
The woman returned with our drinks, and King picked his up, bringing it to his lips for a sip. I took in my surroundings, trying not to be weirded out by the tanned woman shaking her hips on a stage just shy of the table. She had golden tassels on her nipples and bright purple lipstick. Man, I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Karla all about this.
“I understand your client wishes to remain anonymous,” said Hirota.
“That’s correct. He appreciates you agreeing to his terms.”
“Yes, well, I haven’t signed anything yet.”
“Of course,” said King, gaze now travelling around the room. He seemed disinterested as he scanned the half-naked women before returning his attention to Hirota. “Nice place. Is it yours?”
Hirota nodded. “A recent purchase. I’ve grown bored of the hospitality industry of late, which is why I’m interested in selling to your client. It will take a couple of years for me to offload the majority of my assets, though. This club is just the beginning. I’m hoping to make my foray into producing pornographic films once I learn the lay of the land.”
I swear to God, I almost spat out my orange juice right then. King showed no outward signs of surprise or judgement, but then again, he rarely did. I, on the other hand, was practically bursting at the seams to make a joke.
You want to get into the porn industry. Is that why you’re wearing a pimp suit?
“Well, I wish you the best of luck with all of your new ventures,” King said, and turned to me. “Alexis, may I have the contracts?”
“Sure,” I replied, and reached for my bag before pulling out a thick folder.
Hirota waved his hands in the air. “No contracts right now. Tonight is for pleasure. Tomorrow we’ll discuss business.” I put the folders back in my bag, and I could sense King’s dissatisfaction. He didn’t want to draw this out any more than he had to. Unfortunately, Hirota seemed determined to do just that.
“Are either of you hungry?” Hirota asked. “We have a spectacular menu here.”
“That’s all right. We both ate at the hotel,” King lied,
and I was glad he was just as against eating here as I was.
Hirota didn’t seem bothered, and he began talking about his two sons, and how they were currently learning how to horse ride out on his countryside estate. Chatter filled the table, mostly from Hirota and his men. King seemed on edge, like he’d rather just finish the business they had with one another rather drag things out by being social. Usually he wined and dined his clients, but not this time. Right then I could sense his agitation, like he really wanted just wanted to get things over and done with. It was probably why he kept drinking, and that worried me.
About an hour went by, and most of the men were now paying attention to the woman who had just come on stage for a special performance. A slow, sexy number played through the speakers as she began her striptease. It was right about then that the humour I’d originally found in the situation began to dissipate. At that point I’d seen enough boobs to last me a lifetime.
“I’d much prefer to be looking at you on that stage, wearing nothing but that towel from earlier,” King whispered, and my heart did a somersault. This was the first time he’d commented on the strippers, and it was more a comment about me than them. My chest fluttered and I tried to think of a funny response, but my brain let me down. I knew it was the alcohol that was prompting him to speak so freely.
“I’m tired,” I said. “Would it be all right if I took a taxi back to the hotel?”
King’s eyes flitted back and forth between mine as he studied me closely. It was a long moment before he finally nodded, pulling out his wallet and handing me some money for the trip. My immediate reaction was to tell him it was fine, that I could pay for my own taxi, but then I remembered this was work. He was supposed to be paying. It was so easy to forget the real nature of our relationship sometimes.
I stood and walked out of the club, while Hirota and his men were still fixated on the exotic dancer. It only took me a minute to flag down a taxi. The second I got back to my hotel room, I felt a huge flood of relief. There was something off about King and this trip, but I was completely in the dark as to what it might be. Changing into some boy shorts and a T-shirt, and relieving myself of my bra, I called for room service, then checked out what films were available on pay per view. I settled for a romantic comedy.