Reign of a King: A Dark Billionaire Romance (Kingdom Duet Book 1)

by Rina Kent

  Draping it over her arm, she starts down the corridor with moderate footsteps and I follow after her, trying not to gawk at the place.

  Or more accurately, the palace.

  Everything here is built to impress. From the high glass windows to the marble flooring and the golden vaulted ceiling. It’s like he receives royalty here. Hell, maybe he does.

  This is just another drop in the ocean for how far apart Jonathan and I are.

  He was born a king — literally. I was born to become invisible.

  And I succeeded at it for eleven years. Until he ruined everything.

  The woman stops in front of a set of double doors, nods, then leaves.

  I suck in a deep, shaky breath and touch my watch.

  You can do this, Aurora. You’ve gotten through worse.

  I push the doors open and close them behind me before I finally raise my head.

  Jonathan sits at the head of a grand table fit for all of H&H’s employees. No kidding. Does he receive the British Army in here, or something?

  He’s wearing a white shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing strong, veiny arms. He could snap me in half with those arms without even blinking.

  The fact that he’s all alone reduces nothing of his majesty. He doesn’t appear lonely or even the least bit miserable. If anything, he looks every bit the tyrant king on his throne. If it were medieval times, Jonathan would be the type of monarch who orders the burning of an entire city so the others would learn a lesson and bend the knee for him.

  “Well, well.” He places his elbows on the table and meets my gaze with his unreadable one. “Have you changed your mind, wild one?”

  “I agree.”

  “To what?”

  “To the deal you offered.”

  “Smart. Now sit down.”

  He cuts a piece of whatever is in front of him, sure I’ll comply with his order. Jonathan pauses with the fork halfway to his mouth when I reach a hand to the zip at the side of my dress and yank it down.

  The cloth pools around my feet and I stand almost naked in front of him. “Get it over with.”

  12

  Jonathan

  Ever since I sat down for dinner, all I’ve been thinking about is how to bring Aurora to her knees.

  It doesn’t matter what methods I have to use. She’s challenging me again and I’m not the type to be challenged.

  Sending my driver back is a clear sign of her loathsome stubbornness. And I need to crush that stubbornness to smithereens.

  So when she showed up on time on her own, I took a pause.

  I don’t take pauses.

  Still, here I am. Taking another pause as I stare at her pale bare skin. My gaze trails from the defiant expression on her face — no red lipstick today — to the jutting of her nose and the slight crease in her chin.

  Her long, delicate neck is taut — with tension, no doubt. Both her arms are inert by her sides, not trying to hide her half-nakedness. She’s in an unflattering purple cotton bra and underwear, clearly highlighting that she didn’t put any effort into how she looks before she came here.

  It’s her way of showing defiance. She’s telling me this means nothing and she’ll wake up in the morning and completely erase me.

  Doesn’t she know there’s no erasing a king? At least, not when you reside in his kingdom.

  I take my time sliding my gaze down her full, high tits that push against the bra with each harsh intake of breath. The pale skin contrasts against the purple like the type of art you only see in exhibitions.

  Her body shape is slim, tall, and fit. Judging from her toned legs, either she jogs or hikes. There’s no line of tan on her shoulders or around her hips, even though we’re just out of the summer, which means Aurora doesn’t do sunbathing.

  Aurora doesn’t wear swimsuits, but she runs or hikes.

  I tuck that information away for later as I continue watching her rigid posture and the rebellion in her dark blues. They sparkle like a hurricane about to conquer an ocean.

  My cock twitches and it’s not just because of her half-naked state. It’s that look in her eyes. The spirit, the fight. The damn stubbornness.

  My blood rushes with a powerful heat at the idea of exploiting that fight, of digging my fingers into her armour and ripping it apart from the inside out.

  How long has it been since I’ve had a worthy opponent? Aside from Ethan and his dog, Agnus, no one dares to look me in the eyes, let alone stand half-naked, in a vulnerable position, and still defy me.

  My gaze slides to a medium length scar beneath her left breast. It’s horizontal, a bit messy, and appears old.

  How old, though? And what happened to give her that scar?

  There’s also what seems like a tattoo above it. It’s too small to make out its details, but I’ll have plenty of time to study that later.

  Aurora wraps an arm around her midsection to hide her scar. She’s either ashamed of it or she doesn’t like to be exposed.

  Fascinating.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I ask in my firm tone that people usually bolt at hearing. I don’t show that she took me by surprise. Again.

  I thought I would have to fight her tooth and nail before she removed any piece of clothing. The fact that she’s willingly offering her body is the last thing I expected. And well, fuck me if that isn’t a turn on.

  My dick thickens against my trousers, but I don’t bother adjusting it.

  “I’m doing what we agreed on. Isn’t this what you want? I’m only giving you what you bargained for, Jonathan.”

  “You’re not a whore, so don’t act like one. Put your dress back on and sit the fuck down.”

  I’ll have my hands full with this one.

  My lips pull in a small smile.

  I’m looking forward to it.

  13

  Aurora

  Damn it.

  Damn. It.

  How does he always make me feel as if I’ve overstepped a line or that I’m doing something wrong? He is in the wrong.

  He’s the one who came up with this sordid deal. He’s the one who’s screwing up everything.

  Jonathan watches me from across the table, his gaze going back and forth between my face and the arm I’m using to cover my scar and tattoo.

  It’s like he’s intimidating me with his eyes alone to make me drop my hand and bare myself for him. Like it’s his right and I’ve been depriving him from it all along.

  Damn the tyrant and how much he can communicate with a mere glance.

  Crouching, I retrieve my dress and turn away from him to slide it back on. Despite my brave façade, my fingers tremble.

  Jonathan King is a frightening man. I might not be willing to let him stomp all over me, but he has the ability to make you feel non-existent by a mere look from his piercing metal eyes.

  By the time I zip up my dress and turn around, he’s still watching me with that unnerving focus. I could cut through the tension in the air with a knife if I had one.

  He tips his stubborn chin at the chair beside him, repeating his order without having to say a word.

  I snap my spine into a line as I walk in the most moderate manner I’m capable of before flopping on the seat at his left. There’s a plate of steak and salad and two types of clear soup. The entire setting is straight out of an elegant restaurant.

  “Eat.” Jonathan’s voice disturbs the silence of the room. “It’s gotten cold, but since you’re the one who’s ten minutes late, you’ll bear the consequences. You’ll also pay for those ten minutes of tardiness.”

  “I don’t want to eat.” I bunch my fists on my lap. “I want to get this over with.”

  “You thought this would be a one-time thing?”

  “No.”

  He wraps his lips around a piece of meat. I gulp at the sensual way his mouth slides over the fork before he chews leisurely, like this is some eating porn show.

  I internally shake my head. Did I just see Jonathan in an ero
tic way? What in the ever-loving hell?

  “Why don’t you tell me what you think this will be, Aurora?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “All I know is that I want to get on with it instead of wasting time on food and nonsense.”

  “If you don’t watch that mouth, I’ll fuck it right here, right now.”

  My breathing shortens and I stare at him with wild eyes, my attention involuntarily slipping down…

  Down…

  I jerk my head back up, refusing to entertain that idea. Problem is, he’s painted that crude image in my head and now I can’t purge it out.

  Not that I didn’t suspect Jonathan to be crude. His voice was created to command and say dirty things. However, I hadn’t thought it would be to this extent, and the sudden attack isn’t helping my bemused head.

  “Now eat.” He fixes me with a blank stare as if he didn’t just spout those earlier words. “Or would you rather I fill your mouth with something else?”

  My unsteady hand reaches for the fork and I inhale deeply to collect my bearings. I take the first bite of salad, trying to forget that a larger-than-life presence is watching my every move. It’s like he’s a scientist and I’m the rat in his lab.

  I lift my head. “Now what?”

  “Now, you eat.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then I decide. After all, you’re mine now and I get to do whatever I please.”

  I grit my teeth. “I’m not your toy.”

  “Oh, but you are, wild one.”

  A million profanities form in my head, but I don’t say them. My being agitated will only give him the upper hand, and I can’t give him more than he’s already confiscated.

  I hate that I have to consider my every word when dealing with Jonathan. If I don’t, he’ll twist them up and either use them against me or throw them back in my face.

  That’s why I need to be cool-headed about this.

  “No other people,” I say my first condition in the calmest tone I can manage under the circumstances. I won’t be a side dish, and I sure as hell won’t be compared to anyone else.

  He takes a moment to focus on cutting his food, and I’m ready to bet a limb that he’s doing it on purpose. It’s like he uses everything as a weapon – silence included. It takes long, infuriating beats before he nods.

  “I also want a time limit.”

  “Time limit?”

  “Yes. If I’m going to agree to this, I need a time limit, after which you’ll let me go and give me the stocks back.”

  He smiles, and this time, it’s neither sadistic nor genuine. It’s something different, almost like…pride? No, why would Jonathan ever be proud of me?

  He chews slowly on his meat, intentionally keeping me on edge again, before he speaks, “I was wondering when you’d ask that. What did you have in mind?”

  “A month. I’ll be yours for a month to do whatever you please, and then you’ll let me go and revert H&H’s ownership back to Layla and me.”

  “A year.”

  I meet his impenetrable gaze with mine. “Three months.”

  “Six. My final offer.”

  “Fine.”

  It’s better than what I would’ve hoped for. At least it’s not a year in the company of this tyrant. This time will give me ample space to investigate Alicia’s life here and try to solve the mystery of who threatened to kill her.

  “You’ll stay here.”

  “I have a flat.”

  “And I’m telling you that you won’t live in it anymore. At least for the next six months. I expect you to move in tomorrow.”

  The arsehole. It’s like a dictator’s regime around here.

  “Anything else, your majesty?”

  “Yes. Lose the attitude. I don’t appreciate it.”

  “You should’ve included that in the clauses. You want to keep me? This is me, Jonathan, attitude and all. I’m not the little girl who hid behind Alicia’s dress.”

  He’s silent for a bit, watching me closely as if he’s meeting me for the first time. “I can see that.”

  I stand up. “Can I go now?”

  “Not so fast.” He motions at me to come to him.

  I hesitate before I approach him until his woodsy scent is all I breathe in. He has the power to own everyone and everything in his immediate vicinity. It’s less about his last name and more about his presence.

  “Lift your dress.”

  “W-what?”

  “Do it.”

  “Didn’t you tell me to put it back on not two minutes ago?”

  “And now I’m telling you to lift it.” His vicious gaze slides up to mine. “Do you have an objection, Aurora?”

  I stare directly into his harsh eyes, refusing to cower down.

  “If you do, the door is right there.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then don’t make me repeat myself.”

  My hands tremble as my fingers latch onto the cloth and I lift it up to my stomach. My bare thighs and cotton knickers are in his full, unnerving view. Unlike earlier, my sense of confidence is withering away. At least then, it was according to my plan. Now, it’s his playground.

  The fact that I have no clue about his plots is messing with my head more than the state of my half-nakedness.

  “Up.”

  A shudder grips me at the authority in his tone. I slide the dress up one more inch, revealing my belly. Jonathan grabs my hand and yanks it up to my breasts.

  The feel of his skin on mine sends electricity through my stomach, almost like he’s trying to shock me to death.

  “Hold it there. Don’t move.”

  I don’t know what he means by that until his fingers trace alongside my scar. A different type of bolt rushes through my skin and memories zap to my mind like lightning strikes.

  Vacant eyes. Duct tape. Dirt. The crunching of a metal against bones.

  There’s nothing I can do to stop the memories. They suddenly attack and ravish my conscience as if it’s an act of vengeance. The only way I know to deal with it is by hiding it and pretending, for the most part, that it doesn’t exist.

  I’m about to cover the scar or push him away, but Jonathan pins me in place with a glare. “Do not move or I’ll lay you on my lap and spank your arse.”

  A shudder snaps my spine upright and it’s different from the usual memories that assault me with no prior warning.

  The promise in his words freeze me in place, my feet curling in my shoes as he continues his meticulous observation of my scar.

  His fingers run across it with a softness that turns me breathless. His skin is not harsh, but not soft either – it’s firm and as hard as him. The more his hand glides over the skin, the more impossible standing becomes. For some reason, I’d imagined a man like Jonathan wasn’t capable of such tenderness.

  My core pulses and I breathe harshly, almost like an animal who can’t keep its instinct down.

  His finger runs up and down above my scar. “What does this tattoo mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You want to tell me you got a tattoo of a closed eye right above a knife scar for nothing?”

  “What makes you think it’s a knife scar?”

  “It looks like a scar caused by a sharp object, but since you’re stiffening at the knife part, then my guess was correct. What happened? How did you get stabbed?”

  My hands quiver, but I manage to speak in a levelled tone. “That’s none of your business.”

  “What did I say about that mouth? Maybe you do want me to fuck it.”

  “I don’t care what you do to my body, Jonathan. This thing has been dead for eleven years.”

  I don’t know why I freely offer that information. Maybe I wanted to figuratively flip Jonathan the finger by letting him know I’m useless in the sex department. That no matter what he does, he won’t be able to break me.

  He can’t break what’s already broken.

 
His fingers trail down from my ribs to my stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then he cups me through my underwear.

  I don’t stiffen. I don’t even try to wiggle free. It doesn’t matter, because he can’t get to me.

  The few sexual encounters I’ve had were complete disasters. One of them even said, “You’re dry as a desert.” Then he soaked me in lube so he could get inside.

  There’s nothing Jonathan could do to change that. Sexual pleasure was purged out of me when I saw those vacant eyes.

  So, in a way, Jonathan got defective goods.

  Good luck with all the lube.

  “You’re telling me you’re dead here?” His grip tightens. “Maybe I should find out.”

  “Show me your worst.”

  14

  Aurora

  Jonathan wraps a strong, merciless hand around my wrist and tugs.

  I follow his lead and stumble, ending up flush against his side. Even though he’s sitting, it’s almost as if he’s towering over me.

  “Lie on my lap. Face down.”

  I swallow at the command in his tone. The man was born to lead armies and control people.

  “W-why?”

  “Quit the habit of asking questions when around me. I don’t answer them and they just make your situation worse.”

  “I have the right to know.” Besides, the position he’s suggestion isn’t normal. Right?

  “You already agreed to this, remember? The only right you have is to follow orders.”

  Ugh. The infuriating tyrant.

  He presses his thumb against my clit, which I assume is a warning. “Now, are you going to lie on my lap or should I make you? Disclaimer: the second option won’t be pretty.”

  I swallow at the bleak promise in his tone. If I’m going to spend six months with him, I really need to pay more attention to picking my battles. “Fine. Let me go.”

  He tightens his grip on my sex for good measure. It’s not meant to please, but as a stern non-verbal warning.

  Inhaling deeply, I lean forward and lie on his lap. I don’t miss how my arse is now in the air like that of a disobedient, naughty child. My movements are awkward as my breasts and stomach lie flush against his hard thighs.