Hail to the King: Kings of the Tower Book Three

by May Sage

  In all honesty, the contract was good. Too good to be true. It was a permanent position, they took into consideration her five years with the firm, and gave her a series of benefits that made her head spin: a business credit card, access to professional drivers, the apartment, an allowance for clothes and business meals. Her heart sank.

  "Is this a normal contract for my position?" she asked Peter Vaughn, head of HR.

  The man hesitated. "Not quite, although no executive assistant to Mr. King has been head-hunted from another part of King Industries in the past. I suppose Mr. King was generous to ensure that you'd be willing to leave King Construction."

  Yeah, right. He made it sound like she'd been pulled from K.C. because she was an awesome assistant. Maybe that's what Callum and Desmond had said to hide the truth. She was just a charity case.

  If she'd been in a position to, she would have dropped the pen and walked out of there, to find a job she could get on her own merits, not because she'd been screwed by her previous boss in every sense of the term. Instead, she promised herself she'd do her best to deserve the fucking job.

  Biting the bullet, Ryn took the company card and headed right to the closest department store. She bought a gray knee-length skirt, a white blouse, and a beige trench coat that she found on sale. The coat was pretty nice, considering. The rest would do for now. She dug into her handbag until her hand clasped around a red lipstick, to direct the attention away from her attire.

  Callum greeted her with an appreciative nod before handing her a tablet.

  “You’ll take notes for today, and shadow me for the rest of the week. Next week, I want you to know what we’re doing here. Can you manage that?”

  “Yes, Mr. King.”

  “It’s Cal, preferably, Callum if you must. Mr. King is my elder brother. Let’s go.”

  Callum had made it easy to forget how she got the job. He called as much as Wallace had outside of work, and kept her on five tasks at a time when she was in the office. By the end of the second week, all notion that she was only there because of her crappy circumstances had evaporated. She knew she was earning her six figures per year.

  The apartment that had come with the job was in one of the buildings the Kings owned, just a five-minute walk away from the high-rise where Callum operated.

  At first, she'd put the luxurious living accommodation on the company’s dime down to Desmond's generosity—more proof that he took pity on her. Now, she knew that she lived there because Callum needed her to get her ass into work well under half an hour at all hours of the day or night.

  Nineteen minutes after his phone call, she ran inside the Madison Avenue building, in her comfortable red Mary Jane pumps. She scanned her ID and waved to the security guards, before rushing to the elevator.

  "Hold the door!" she begged, seeing them closing.

  The guy inside pushed the doors open, and Ryn's eyes widened when she recognized him.

  Theo Noble. Or was it Terry? Something that started with a T. She couldn't quite remember it, although she had screamed that name at the top of her voice a few months back.

  He was a member of The Tower, and one of the men Wallace had given her to.

  He'd been one of the relatively attractive ones, a fit, well-dressed, elegant businessman in his early forties, with salt and pepper hair and a bit of stubble on his face.

  They'd all disgusted her. She'd hated them all. He was no exception, although Ryn had doubted that he'd known that she'd been forced into fucking him. To him, she was just another willing swinger from The Tower.

  "Kathryn, right?" he said, with a lazy smile.

  She froze, shocked to find herself responding to his voice. Her nipples hardened, and her inside clenched embarrassingly.

  Oh God, what the fuck was wrong with her? She blushed. "That's right," she replied, awkward as fuck, turning to press the button for her floor.

  "Thirty-seven," he noted. "You're also going up to King’s?"

  Shit. She'd hoped he'd get out of there before her. She bobbed her head.

  "King Construction’s building something for King Pharmaceuticals?" he asked.

  "I'm surprised you remember I worked at K.C.," she admitted. Men like him didn't truly pay attention to assistants, even those they fucked.

  "Some women are more notable than others, Kathryn," he replied.

  Her fists clenched and her jaw set. It wasn't him she itched to punch, it was herself. Why the hell was she getting turned on, here, on her way to work, and by one of Wallace's buddies, of all things? As the seconds passed, she remembered her lips around his cock, his fingers teasing her. He'd bound her hands and feet to his bed, and covered her eyes. She bit her lips.

  She was better than this, fuck it.

  "I'm not with K.C. anymore."

  "Ah. Yes, I remember now. That...unfortunate outcome with Clarke. Hm. Is that why I haven't seen you at The Tower of late? Was your membership linked to his?"

  She closed her eyes to focus, but instead, found herself visualizing dark rooms with Saint Andrew’s crosses, slow music beating with the rhythm of her heart, hands on her hips, the inner part of her thigh, hard crops coming down on her sensitive skin, making her gasp out loud.

  Fuck.

  She shifted.

  "I'm not going to The Tower because I don't want to, that's all," she replied bravely, wondering why it sounded like a lie.

  Dammit, this wasn't her. Wallace hadn't changed her into something else. She would not let him win. She liked nice, simple sex with nice guys, partners she chose. Not their depraved little club.

  "Shame. Let me know if you change your mind, Kathryn. We can have a lot of fun, you and I," said the stranger whose name started with a T, handing her a card.

  Her lips parted to answer. She didn't know what she might have said, her body and mind at war with each other. Yes? No? Take me now in the copy room? Thankfully, the doors opened before a word came out. She practically ran out of the elevator, the card still in her hand. She pondered throwing it out, but ended up sliding it in her pocket before knocking at Callum King's door.

  "Katharina. Good. Come on through. We have three politicians trying to red-tape us based on the use of some components banned in China in our South American subsidiaries. We made it clear that we didn't intend to fabricate or sell those drugs on Chinese soil, but they're still pushing the issue. It smells like someone important doesn't want our deal to go through."

  "They might have been paid off by a competitor?" Kathryn mused.

  Callum's brow lifted. "Good point. I've been on this since two in the morning; I don't think I'm functioning at maximum capacity right now. Didn't even think of that. Thank you, Katharina."

  She blushed with pride. His praises were few and far between.

  "You're very welcome, sir. Shall I get our in-house lawyers to look into it?"

  "No, they're slow and inefficient for investigations. Email Nate Knightley’s assistant, get him to schedule a phone call sometime today."

  That name tasted sour to her. Knightley. Wasn’t that the guy who’d looked into her?

  She swallowed her bile.

  "Will do while I get the coffee machine going. Anything else that requires immediate attention?"

  "No, I just need you to re-read through my notes and summarize them so we have all of the issues in one place before I get the counter-offer going."

  "Very well, sir."

  She retreated from his office with a smile. Two minutes with Callum King and she remembered who she was. What she was. A kickass professional who didn't need a man between her legs to feel complete.

  11

  An Old Man

  Three weeks. He’d stayed away from Kathryn Woodrow for three weeks, although it was against his inclination and against his reason.

  She wasn't okay. No one could be, after going through what had happened to her.

  The knowledge that she was struggling alone right now kept him awake at night. The only thing that prevented him from reach
ing out to her was the fact that he knew his meddling would be entirely unwelcome.

  Desmond kept busy. He worked, at Kings and Knights and at The Tower. He played chess, online and with his favorite opponent.

  Although he'd suffered from Alzheimer’s for years, his father was still one of the most redoubtable adversaries he'd ever played with face-to-face. Damian didn't always know who Desmond was, but he sure as fuck knew just how to trounce his ass with unexpected moves half the time.

  Today was one of the good days.

  "So, you say you're good, your brothers are fine, the company is thriving," Damian summarized. "And I want to believe you, son, I really do. But given the fact that you look like someone stole your candy, you're not all that convincing. Come on, spill. Tell me what's wrong before I call you Uncle Marvin again."

  Desmond smiled. His father often confused him with his long-gone favorite uncle, and with good reason: unlike the rest of the family, Desmond had the man's light blond hair and his blue eyes.

  "Nothing is wrong, per se," Desmond replied. Why did it feel like a lie?

  "Ah. I see. What's her name?"

  He sighed, moving his tower.

  "It's exactly what I think," his father replied, the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. "You're a King. Men in our family have been cursed. We play the field, and out of the blue, there she is: the one. The one no one compares to, the one we're fixated on. For me, it was your mother. We Kings only have one queen, my father used to say. I was glad when the illness started, you know. At least, I'd forget the pain of losing her to cancer, I thought. But even on my worst days, even when I struggle to remember who I am, who I was, I know Luciana's name. I remember her eyes. I know she was mine."

  Desmond shook his head. "It's not what you think. There's a woman who was in trouble. I want to help her. That's all."

  Damian nodded. "Sure, that's all it is. Keep telling yourself that. Checkmate, by the way."

  Desmond stared at the board, eyes wide in confusion. Seriously? Shit. His father was right. Normally, he felt the noose closing in around him. He saw the attacks coming, he could tell what the old man was up to. It had entirely escaped him today.

  "Shit."

  "Yes, I think so. Shall I destroy your spirit another time today, or are you ready to stop running from my future daughter-in-law?"

  Desmond didn't bother to repeat himself.

  It wasn't what his father thought. He was fixated on Ryn because what had happened to her hit close to home. Too close.

  She wasn't the first woman who'd been destroyed right before him. This time, it felt like he could have done something about it, and he hadn't. The reason why he couldn't stop thinking about her was guilt. There was nothing more to read into it.

  As he imagined that thinking about his love prospects cheered up his father, he left him to it.

  "My head is obviously not in the game, and I'm not sure my ego could take another crushing. Do you want to do something else?" he asked Damian, who shrugged.

  "My schedule is open. What are you thinking, son?"

  "We could start Lord of the Rings?"

  Damian tilted a brow. "I believe you said something along the lines of the books were quite adequate, I see no reason to watch a movie about it, or something of the sort."

  He shrugged. "Change of heart."

  Damian looked at him knowingly. "Ah. The girl. She told you to watch it."

  He sighed, knowing that telling his father not to read too much into it would have been pointless.

  "But I'm always up for a trip to Middle Earth. Lead the way."

  The rest of their Sunday afternoon was pleasant. It wasn't until the second movie that Damian called him Marvin, and started to ask about what was happening in the movie, confused and frustrated. Desmond explained the plot patiently, and watched the rest of the movie with his father, who was visibly enjoying himself.

  Unsurprisingly. It was a good movie. Arguably better than the book, as Ryn had told him it was.

  Desmond itched to call her. Tell her he'd kept his word, tell her she was right: he'd loved the movie.

  But he didn't, refusing to give in, if only to prove his father wrong.

  12

  Frustration

  Ryn woke up heaving, a cry on her lips, and her fingers wet, buried deep inside her pussy.

  The dreams were getting worse. Faceless, nondescript men surrounding her, licking, sucking, flogging her, fucking her deep, hard, until she came.

  "Fucking shit," she cursed, glancing at her clock. Four. She'd barely slept, again.

  The first few times, she'd attempted to go back to bed. She knew better now. Dragging her heels, she headed to her bathroom and poured herself a bath with Epsom salts. She soaked for an hour with her e-reader in hand. At least she was taking some me-time, thanks to her restlessness.

  When the water was too cold to remain in there, she dragged herself out of the bath and got ready.

  The Hong Kong deal had been approved; K.P. was opening a foreign subsidiary. But Callum had bought an organic farm in California, and was extending it. That meant their ass was still on fire.

  Getting to the office at six in the morning, she wasn't surprised to find her boss's office lit up. She knocked.

  "Come in."

  Pushing the door open, Ryn froze as her eyes fell on him.

  Desmond.

  She blushed, for some reason. How stupid was it? But she'd worked at K.P. for a month and a half without seeing him, so she hadn't expected him.

  He looked entirely unchanged, ridiculously gorgeous as always, dressed in white, his hair parted on the left side and combed back, as usual.

  "Sorry, I didn't know you had company."

  "Katharina. Nonsense, stay. I was just thanking my brother for sending me someone who takes her job seriously, for once."

  She smiled, until her eyes took in Desmond, at least. His blue eyes were cold as ever, and his expression unreadable, but somehow, she got the feeling he was pissed.

  "Ryn. You're here early."

  She was.

  "She gets in before nine on a regular basis," Callum commented, visibly pleased with her for that.

  Desmond wasn't seeing it the same way, however.

  "You can't sleep," he guessed.

  She shrugged, itching to tell him it wasn't his problem.

  Completely ignoring her, Desmond turned to his brother and said, "Give her a week of paid leave. She needs rest, and counseling. The company can pay for that."

  Wait a fucking minute. "I'm just fine!"

  He didn't so much as turn to her.

  "My brother and I are discussing private matters, Ryn. Wait at your desk."

  Completely shocked, she remained where she stood. Then she blinked, and spat, “That’s Kathryn to you.” She turned her gaze back toward her boss, and forced a smile. “Anything I can do for you, Cal?”

  He seemed somewhat amused.

  “No, feel free to go. I'll call you in when the ogre is gone.”

  “Thanks. I'll be preparing coffee.”

  Her heels clicked angrily at each step.

  What a fucking dick. She was just fine. She didn't need a break. If anything, her job was keeping her sane. Distracting her. At work, she didn't feel like a piece of trash, like an uncontrollable, insatiable slut. When she was at home, she wondered if she'd paid for the apartment by opening her legs, if she'd just been brought in out of pity, but at work, she remembered her worth. The last thing she wanted was time off.

  There was wetness on her cheeks. Fuck. She ran to the restroom and took care of the stupid, messy tears she hadn't meant to shed.

  Fuck him. Fuck Desmond King and his highhandedness. His eyes that looked through her and pitied her.

  When she emerged from the bathroom, the dick was gone. Callum had left his door open; she tentatively tiptoed to it.

  "Sorry, I was going to make coffee. You want one, right?"

  Callum King never refused coffee.

  "Plea
se. And, Kathryn? I told my brother that you were my employee, and that you'd get your vacation, or your counseling if and when you asked for it. My office isn't his playground."

  "Oh." She was at loss for words for a moment. "Thank you, Cal."

  "No thanks necessary. But you will tell me when you need rest. I can't afford for you to burn out on me. Understood?"

  She nodded obediently.

  “Very good. Tell me, does it bother you when I call you Katharina? I didn’t think to ask.”

  She lifted a brow in surprise. “Not as such. It’s cute. I just don’t get it, I guess.”

  Callum grinned. “A bad habit I’ve picked up from my grandfather. He came from Russia. He gave nicknames to just about anyone. Anyone who deserved one.”

  She smiled back at him. “It definitely doesn’t bother me at all.”

  “Good, good. All right then, check up on your emails from China while making the coffee and update me if there's any news, will you?"

  She went to Cal's break room with a smile on her lips, glad she had a nice, respectful boss who had her back. The smile was quick to disappear, as she remembered Desmond's intrusive gaze.

  What killed her was that he was right. She probably needed help. To talk to a professional, or whatever. Sleeping barely four hours at a time and dreaming of getting fucked every night wasn't healthy. Filling the void in her life with work was definitely not the best way to live.

  She wondered if that was what Callum King was doing. He was there every day before her, and left after her. Seemed to work for him, though.

  Ryn checked her emails, and found a correspondence from China, as Cal had guessed she would. They were twelve hours ahead of NYC, so by the time she arrived at work, normally they were done with their work day. K.P. had contracted K.C. for the renovation and extension of the labs and production companies near Hong Kong. The secretary of the newly appointed COO, currently on location, had sent the latest figures. Cal would be pleased; it looked like they would be able to build the plans he'd approved under the budget they'd set. She had enough experience to know that there were always last-minute costs involved, but even adding in a ten percent buffer, they were good.