Sold to the King

by Falcone, Carmen

  Guban walked up to him, next to one of the event workers, the cue they needed to wrap up the conversation because of the ever-growing line.

  A known senator from the United States greeted his mother, and Izzy inched closer. “Tell the guards to let me in the library. I’ll wait for you there.”

  A naughty smile danced on her lips.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  She tossed him a glance over her shoulder. Specks of excitement flashed in the depths of her eyes. “Handle it.”

  …

  “I’ll be waiting outside, Ms. Lima,” the guard said, opening the huge, heavy French doors for her. “Please call if you need anything.”

  Unlikely. She closed the door behind him, scanning around the area.

  This would be the perfect opportunity. With everyone in the ballroom and the library closed for visitors, she had the chance to search for the guest book without worry. She glanced around, her gaze darting between the floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. A huge computer screen sat on the main desk. She marched to it, after tossing a glance behind her to make sure the guard remained outside.

  Sighing, she sat on the swiveling chair, smelling the scent of old, leather-bound books. In any other circumstances, she’d peruse through the place, reveling in the amazing reads, and explore every corner and nook. But here I am, betraying Nassor’s trust.

  An invisible claw clasped her heart. Damn. He was now the king, the ruler of an entire country. Fine as hell, and, she hoped, a fair leader. Cold sweat slicked her palms. When she splayed them on the desk, her prints on the smooth surface gave away her fear.

  Didn’t matter if he hadn’t personally kidnapped and killed her stepmother. Someone had, as she’d disappeared into thin air, and had been found dead of an overdose. Anger pumped into her veins. Someone had killed her—abused her. She had marks on her body, and Gwokon authorities had been quick to dismiss it as an addict’s prerogative. Probably a crazy user fellow had hurt her, or a possible client, assuming she’d traded sex for a hit.

  Her stepmother hadn’t been a hooker, either.

  No. I am. Aren’t I?

  She turned on the screen, desperate. The screen unlocked, asking her for a login username and password. Shit. She tapped the drawers, in hopes of finding any written notes or an old-fashioned version of Rolodex to send her in the right direction in searching for the password.

  She tugged at the handle, but no luck. All the drawers were firmly locked. She should’ve listened to the hairstylist who’d insisted on an updo instead of letting her hair fall down in waves. Those pins would have been handy.

  She stood, flicked off the screen, and strolled through the shelves, reading the plaques. At the end of one shelf, she glanced at a thick book sitting on its own pedestal. The guest book.

  Adrenaline raced down her spine and she quickened her pace, holding the hem of her dress on both sides to get there faster. When she was within a breath from the book, her fingers trembled. She touched the thick cover, recognizing the castle’s logo, and sucked in a breath.

  Mary had arrived in the country about a year prior. Izzy calculated the month, and began looking at all visitors’ entries for July from the previous year. She flicked through dozens of pages, scanning each one of them to find her stepmother’s signature.

  At the bottom of the hundredth page, a scribble got her attention. She slid her finger down the textured paper, anticipation arrowing through her. Her stepmother’s name and signature, next to the name of the hotel where she’d been staying.

  I need to write this down. She reached for her purse and grabbed her cell. She took a picture of the name, to study and Google it later. A sound of footfalls spilled acid in her stomach. Oh no. She quickly closed the guest book, clasped her clutch, and walked back to the front. With each step, she willed herself to drop her shoulders a notch, to loosen her arms, to appear more relaxed by the time the guard found her.

  “Izzy?” A voice much sexier than the guard’s echoed in the space.

  “I’m here.” She erased the distance between them, walking up to Nassor.

  With that fancy robe over his pants, he looked absolutely charming. Regal.

  Awareness branded her like a tattoo. She regarded him and clasped her bag as a shield from any emotional entanglements. Sex. This was just sex. A flicker of an emotion she couldn’t read flashed in his eyes, and he angled his head. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

  “I’m a man of my word.”

  A pang of regret stabbed at her. Damn it. Why did things have to be so complicated? “You’re a king now. I feel naughty for stealing you from your duties.”

  “If you want to be naughty, I’ll give you other things to be naughty about.” He pulled her into his arms, and she willingly embraced him, losing herself in that invisible bubble of warmth. She breathed in his scent, a mix of bamboo notes with an irresistible dash of exotic spices. He skated his hands down her ass, pulling her to him until they molded into a sinful position.

  “Can you tell me something, my lovely lady?”

  She bobbed her head, unable to part her gaze from him. “Yes.”

  “What the hell were you searching for in the guest book?”

  Chapter Seven

  Color drained from Izzy’s face, and she disengaged from him.

  Nassor rested his hands on his waistline, not moving an inch. Disappointment traveled through him. When he’d finally made his way to meet her in the library, he was pumped and aroused. Then, when he entered, a quick look at the security cameras strategically placed to the right showed her eagerly searching for some information in the guest book. Hell, she’d even taken a picture.

  “It’s a long and complicated story, but I’ll try to make it simple.”

  “Make it clear and true. That’s what I need.”

  The vein in her neck pulsated. “Of course.” She threaded her fingers together, avoiding looking at him. Izzy from Vegas…a liar? Was she no different than the other people who needed things from him—who planned on using his new title for their benefit?

  A wave of frustration washed over him, and his heart skipped a beat or two. When it resumed doing its job, it didn’t have the kick of adrenaline or excitement wherever she was concerned. No. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat. For some very odd reason, he’d expected more from Izzy—even if he hadn’t known her for long.

  She eyed him, flickers of determination gleaming in her eyes. “My stepmother was called Mary Roberts. She raised me after my adoptive father died. I loved her.” Emotion must’ve welled up inside her, because she tapped her neck a bit, her throat visibly working. “Over a year ago, she traveled to Gwokon to meet a man she chatted with online. Name’s Obasi Akenzua. She returned to the States dead.”

  “How long was she here?” he asked, picking his brain to remember if he’d heard anything about the case. He hadn’t been involved with the administration of the kingdom then, and possibly the authorities had kept the subject out of the news. Uncle Feruzi usually did whatever possible to keep away from scandals, even if that meant jeopardizing the truth.

  Tears brimmed her eyes. “Five weeks. At first, we talked every other day, then communication became scattered.”

  He reached for a box of facial tissue on the table and handed it to her. “How did she die?”

  She took a few pieces of tissue and glanced at them, quietly. “She was found by a river with needles in her body. She wasn’t an addict, had never been. I believe it was a ploy.”

  He scratched his head. He’d removed the crown before walking up to her, but it seemed now like double the weight pushed down his shoulders. “Ploy for what?”

  She wiped the tears, sniffing, and then lifted her chin. “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

  She’s here to find out. He closed his eyes, rubbing them and wishing this all went away by th
e time he opened them. A beat later, he peered at her. She threaded her fingers together, then snapped her hands apart and stared at him. “How do I come into play?”

  She stepped forward. “I entered the virgin auction to get money to hire a lawyer and a detective and learn about her true death. I knew a lot of men from Gwokon attended the auction, and of course knowing someone from here would be to my advantage on the off chance my buyer were Gwokondenese. I swear, I didn’t know you were a king,” she said, looking at him square in the eye. He stepped back, glancing around, trying to find answers before voicing the questions. Hell, a part of him wanted to believe her—which in itself scared him more than believing her.

  He drew a breath, unsure. “Why were you looking in the guest book?”

  “In one of the few times we chatted, Mary told me she visited the castle when she first arrived. I came to find the address where she stayed.”

  “Have you?”

  She nodded.

  “Show me.”

  She looked up at the vaulted ceiling, then sighed and reached into her purse. Did she expect him to change his mind and take her on her word? She had no word—she’d lied to him. Used him. She retrieved the cell phone from her bag and gave it to him. “Listen, I’m not here to hurt you or your people. I just need to find the culprit and make him or her pay.”

  “You lied to me. You said you didn’t know anything about my culture, but you’ve probably studied it before.”

  How could he have been so stupid? He’d been so smitten, so turned on he never thought clearly. Sure, maybe his buying her at the auction was a coincidence…but her wanting to avenge her stepmother was not. What the hell would she do with the information? Blackmail? Expose the culprit? What kind of woman really was Izzy Lima?

  The main vein in her neck jumped. “A little. I read what I could get my hands on.”

  “And you lured me in here, in the middle of an important night, so you could get here earlier and find what you were looking for.”

  “Yes.”

  What a fool I am.

  He shortened the gap between them and clasped her shoulders, pushing her in between two floor-to-ceiling shelves, where he knew no cameras could record them. Determination and excitement pounded through his veins. She’d done him wrong—and now she’d pay for it.

  He pushed her against the wall and hiked up her dress. Endless amounts of rich fabric spilled over his hands, but he fumbled until he found her underwear and tugged it at both sides.

  She gasped. “Are you going to fuck me after what I’ve done?”

  A shiver of anticipation ran through him. “You got what you wanted—it’s only fair I get what I want too,” he said gruffly, hating himself for not being able to stop wanting her. He should, by all means, end any sexual liaison now. He’d always been a strong man, but damn Izzy, she weakened him.

  She met his stare, her eyes darkening. The brown one shifted to an almost black, and the green one became a lush forest green. “Great. Will I get my cell phone back after?” she asked evenly.

  He ripped her underwear, and she moaned, sending him over the edge. Without delay, he thrust three fingers inside her pussy. God, she was so fucking wet already. “We’ll see.”

  She parted her lips, eyes half closed. He could take a picture of her sultry expression, or paint a canvas if he had the talent. She clenched her thighs around him, showing him she wanted him to give her some release. Not yet. Not after what she’d done.

  He removed his fingers from her naughty cunt and lifted them, bringing them to her lips. She whimpered in protest, causing his cock to swell even more. A hot pulse menaced his temples. “Taste yourself. See why I could make a living out of eating your pussy.”

  She stuck out her tongue and licked his fingers up and down. He slid them past her lips, and she sucked them the same way she had with his cock the previous night. She moaned, sheer lust clouding her expression, and all of a sudden she had the energy of a lifelong madam and not a woman who had been a virgin until he’d taken it from her. He had—no one else.

  Without taking her eyes off his, she continued to lick his fingers, a soft moan escaping her. He trembled and jerked his fingers away from her, an edgy sensation overpowering him. If she’d been a virgin before, she sure learned how to leverage his attraction to her fast.

  He motioned to open his pants, then his hands slid down. The fucking robe. She launched herself at him, clasping her hand on each side, swooshing the fabric apart. Hell, she learned fast. He slammed her against the wall, reaching to his pants before she could. “You think you can mess with me?”

  He unzipped his pants, pulling them down with his briefs in one swift move. His cock sprang out, hard and aching for her. He lifted her against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around him. “You can’t.”

  His breaths came out in bursts like he’d just sprinted a fifty-floor building staircase. She positioned his cock in her pussy, a glint of defiance in her eyes. He plunged inside her, and they both moaned in unison. He moved slightly, to position her in the corner of the wall and the built-in shelf, so she’d have more support. By doing so, she must have bumped against books, because several units fell to the floor.

  He withdrew, only to slam deeper into her. Her loud whimper cut the air, and he continued to pump into her, each time stronger. Soon, he felt the pressure building and about to burst, so he flicked her clit with his thumb. He’d done it so many other times, but now he matched the intensity of each thrust to the way he worked her swollen bud.

  Sounds that seemed ripped from her throat filled the space. A shade of red spread across her face, pupils dilating. He upped the tempo even more, and soon, she shouted his name, quivering, encircling his head with her hands. While she came, he thrust one last time, and pleasure detonated through him, claiming him. Mocking him.

  He filled her with his cum, and his knees buckled under him. Too much—the sensations spreading within him like fire on timber. Who was he kidding when he said she couldn’t mess with him? She’d already messed with him—and now it was time to face the consequences.

  …

  Izzy wiped the sweat from her face, catching her breath.

  Reality slowly crept under her skin, and goose bumps followed. He knows. She disengaged from him, her body still tingling from the intense sex, her heart barely keeping up with the quickened beats.

  “What happens now?”

  Nassor pulled up his pants and fixed himself. The robe she’d torn didn’t look regal. A shot of awareness ran through her. She’d done that to him.

  She’d also fucked the king in the library. A man who had discovered her secret.

  What if he tossed her in jail or disposed of her? What if her fate would be worse than Mary’s? Legs weakened, she leaned onto the shelf so as not to fall, avoiding looking at the several books on the hardwood floor.

  Nassor picked her dress from the floor and threw it to her. She caught it, mumbling a thank-you so low, she doubted he heard her. “We’ll go to that address and find out about your stepmother.”

  We? She tilted her head. If he went with her, how could they possibly keep it low-profile? And there was always the possibility the real reason he wanted to tag along was sanitizing whatever piece of information she got her hands on. “What?”

  He ran his fingers through his short curly hair. “If she was under duress in my country, I have to find out what happened. If I let you go, my dear American, you can go to the embassy and feed them your story. This will make rounds in the news cycle and whether you’re telling the truth or not, it’ll stain my first days in power.”

  Her shoulders dropped a notch, and a disappointing sensation chilled her internal temperature. Of course he would put his reputation first. “I understand. How can you go with me, though? People will recognize you.”

  “There are ways.” He tipped up her chin, making her stare at
him. “Leave that to me. Is there anything you aren’t telling me? Do you stand by this story? Because I don’t want to move mountains and go after the truth if that’s not what you’re telling me.”

  “I… Yes. I’m not lying.”

  “You’ll go to your room now and stay there until morning. I’ll have a guard on your door and you won’t be able to go anywhere without my permission. Even if you try, he’ll let me know immediately.”

  “I’m a prisoner?” she said, feigning outrage even though a part of her understood his reasons. He didn’t know her well enough to believe her story. Still, the idea of staying in a room without coming and going brought a sour taste to her palate.

  “I can’t risk you going at it alone. I don’t trust you.”

  She finger-combed her hair. “Apparently, I’m good enough to fuck.”

  A small smile formed on his lips, and he gave her a once-over. “Apparently, so am I.”

  Izzy flicked the channels. She’d spent a good part of the night awake, and when she’d finally fallen asleep, the maid had knocked on her door to check if she needed anything. With her cell phone taken away, she tried to watch TV even if she couldn’t sit still.

  Damn it.

  She chowed down the yummy yogurt the maid had brought and pushed away the rest of the tray filled with pastries. What if Nassor didn’t come through to help her? Or worse, what if he tried to alter the truth? Five weeks wasn’t enough time for her sensible stepmother to come abroad and get hooked on drugs. She had more common sense.

  When the door finally opened, he marched in, wearing denim jeans and a black shirt that almost made him look like a commoner. She stood, her pulse throbbing at the base of her throat. Memories from their screwfest in the library popped in her mind, heating her insides.

  She took a step toward him, trying to ignore the fragrance of clean soap and his undeniable male scent. “Your Majesty. Morning.”

  He glanced at his watch, then cocked his head in the direction of the door. “We’re leaving. Are you coming?”