by Anna Antonia
Killian blew softly in my ear. Fisting my hands, I tried to keep the shiver from running down my spine. Barely.
The heat of his stare burned me, but I refused to turn my head and look at him. He wanted me to and because of that I wouldn’t give into him.
He was already far too cocky of himself.
For good reason.
Killian chuckled and resumed his dizzying pace. “Say that I am independently wealthy. What’s it to you, Lucy Martin?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s right. It’s nothing. So why don’t you mind your business and go away? Hmm? Wouldn’t you like that, Lucy Martin? If it’s the money I can triple the bonus Grandfather paid you. That’s a lot of cash there. Imagine all the shoes you could buy.”
“I have shoes.”
Killian paused. “Ah, my fault. I should’ve been more distinct. Imagine all the good shoes you could buy.”
“It makes you feel superior to talk down to me, but you’re wasting your time. I’m not ashamed of what I don’t have because I live my life honest and with meaning. Can you say the same?”
Killian’s mocking smile hardened. He stared at me unblinkingly for several seconds before giving me his back. “What will it take to get you to leave, Lucy Martin?”
The gall of this man! He may have been beautiful, but at the end of the day, he was indeed a chico malcriado. A spoiled brat. And I knew how to handle brats.
Never give an inch.
“Listen up. I’m going to be your companion, Killian King, whether you like it or not. I suggest you figure out a way to like it because you will be seeing me for as long as it takes. I’ve given my word to your grandfather and it’s as good as gold, understand?”
“Is that so?”
“That’s so.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Yes, we will.”
Killian thumped his grandfather’s desk once. “Isn’t it everything you’ve dreamed of? We’re getting along fabulously, don’t you think…Gramps?”
I whirled around to see Rafael King standing there in the doorway, a frown heavy on his lined face.
“Killian, already? Didn’t I ask you to wait for me?”
“What did you expect? Obedience? Gratitude? No. Failure? Yes.”
The elder King’s gaze snapped with fury. But before that I saw sorrow.
I was here for a reason and I’d fulfill it. I’d given Mr. King my word and no rude, nasty behavior from Killian would make me break it.
Stepping into the charged silence, I waved at Killian’s grandfather. “Mr. King, how is your morning? Good I hope.”
He looked between us, obviously trying to decide if he wanted to be polite and greet me or tear into the source of his worry and frustration.
“Yes, Grandfather. How is your morning? Splendid I hope.”
Mr. King growled his name, stare sharp, and anger palpable. If I hadn’t seen his worry myself I would’ve sworn he didn’t like or care for his grandson at all.
“You’ve been harassing Miss Lucy.”
“Have I?” Killian sank down into his grandfather’s chair. “I thought I was simply welcoming her to King Cosmetics. Wasn’t that what I was doing, Miss Lucy?”
Right. I knew what he was doing. He expected me to get flustered enough to complain or fake a denial. Not going to happen.
“Mr. Killian and I were getting to know each other, Mr. King.”
Truth bomb. In your face, boy!
Before he could answer, Killian kicked his feet back on the desk again and drawled, “See, Grandfather? We’re nearly on a first name basis already. Doesn’t that just tickle your heart?”
Mr. King’s brows snapped over his nose. A flush of obvious fury reddened his neck. I hurried over to Killian. “Weren’t you going to take me on a tour?”
“No.”
This brat! Killian deliberately re-sparked the blaze I was trying to smother.
Mr. King took an aggressive step forward, but I held up my hand. Thankfully, he listened.
“Okay, where are you going to go next?”
Killian stared at me, icy blue eyes challenging me to stand down.
Not gonna happen.
Abruptly, Killian rose to his feet and walked past us both. He stopped at the door. “Well, aren’t you coming along?”
Relieved, I nodded to Mr. King, showing him an optimistic smile, and joined Killian.
He opened the door and exited first. Killian swept past Martha without a word. I hurried after him, giving Martha a little wave. As soon as we got to the empty hallway, Killian turned on me.
“Your job is to babysit. Not be my therapist or bodyguard. I don’t need your protection from my grandfather. Don’t interfere again.”
I wasn’t prepared for his fire. His scorn, but not his fire. It didn’t intimidate me. Rather it made me feel…alive?
I needed to find a way to keep professional distance. Fast.
“Your grandfather doesn’t need your hate, Mr. Killian. He’s hired me because he cares about you.”
“Mind. Your. Business.”
I wished I could smack him in the back of the head for being so stubborn. His height was the only thing that saved him. Still my hand itched.
“Killian King, you are my business.”
7
KILLIAN
The balls on this bitch goddess!
I wasn’t her business. I wasn’t her anything. She was a thorn in my side and it wasn’t even nine.
My intention to play with Lucy disappeared as soon as she walked into Grandfather’s office. I reacted to her strongly. Too strongly. Something inside me recognized she was dangerous and all I wanted was for her to be gone.
Then even that changed.
Why?
Her lovely little face shone with earnest stubbornness. That pointed chin dared me to deny her passionate statement. Lucy Martin really believed she was here to help.
God save me from fools.
“You do realize you’re an instrument for my humiliation.”
“What humiliation? You don’t have any shame.”
Shows what she knew. Lucy wasn’t as smart as she thought she was. This made me feel better. Just a bit.
“I developed it sometime between 7:59 and 8:00.”
Turning away, I walked at a fast clip to my office. Predictably, the goddess’s little shoes clacked behind me. A gentleman would slow down. Too bad for her I wasn’t.
Flinging open my office door, I stalked over to my desk. Mondays sucked but today sucked worse than usual. I couldn’t believe Grandfather thought setting another watchdog on me would make me toe the line. What had been a promise of fun changed between last week and now as the reality sank into me.
Grandfather refused to trust me or let me be anyone other than his screwed-up grandson.
But this one is different. She isn’t male and she’s gorgeous.
So the fuck what?
Did he learn nothing after all these years? I wasn’t going to be bullied or coerced into becoming his clone. I wasn’t Rafael King goddammit. I was Killian Johnathon Von Hügel King.
Resident bastard and king of disappointments.
Whether Grandfather or Prince Von Hügel made me or I flung myself into a pit of hell, it was too late. I was who I was and nothing or no one was going to change me.
Least of all a stubborn little goddess wearing a cheap suit and cheaper clunky heels.
Who let her walk out of the house like that? Didn’t she have a mother or a sister to teach her how to play up her loveliness? Her skirt hung too low and her jacket was too loose. A peplum cut would’ve served her best.
Clenching my jaw, I wondered why was I wasting my time on this? Lucy’s abominable taste wasn’t my problem or responsibility.
However, the thought of dressing her in clothing worthy of her beauty sank into me for a moment. With her curvaceous body, she’d be a delight to dress up. And the shoes…I imagined her small feet were as gorgeous as the rest of her.
<
br /> Lucy Martin pulled out a chair and sat down. My attention flicked back. “What are you doing?”
“Getting ready to take notes.”
“You’re not my PA. I don’t have one because I don’t need one.”
She snapped open a notebook and set it on her crossed leg. The skirt rose high enough to show me her knee. I imagined what lay above.
“I know.”
My God she was annoying!
But not boring. Yet.
Turning on my computer, I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She held a common ballpoint pen tightly, biting her lip as she scribbled industriously. Hmm…I wondered what it was she wrote down.
Temptation to snatch her yellow pad away pricked me. It wouldn’t be such a hard thing to do. Her anger might even be amusing.
“What do you want most in the world, Killian?” she asked while still focused on writing.
My family back to the way it was.
Where did that come from? I stopped praying for miracles when Mom went into the hospital.
“For you to go far, far away.”
“Okay. What’s the second thing you most want in the world?”
I started an e-mail to the factory manager in Singapore. “For you to stop asking me pointless questions.”
“The third then.”
“For you to pretend to be a plant.”
“Fourth.”
“For you to develop a bout of diarrhea that keeps you homebound for the next week to a year.”
There. That should shut her up.
“Fifth.”
My fingers stopped flying over the keyboard. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because I want to know you better.”
“You don’t care about me.”
Lucy Martin, interfering goddess that stubbornly kept writing instead of looking at me, answered, “You’re right and you’re wrong. But I do care about my work and you are a big part of that work.”
“And knowing my inner thoughts humanizes me?”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No. It doesn’t. I could tell you any manner of lies and you wouldn’t know the difference.”
“Okay. Then lie to me.”
“The fifth thing I want most in this world is for you to look up at me.”
Ah. A reaction. Faint blushes pinkened her cheeks. Interesting. I wouldn’t have pegged Little Lucy as a blusher.
Expecting her to argue with me, I was mildly surprised when she complied with my request. I met her dark gaze and fell in. What did she see when she looked at me?
A handsome face, a walking dollar sign, a jerk, what?
“I’m looking,” she said softly.
“Yes, and so am I.”
She had a small mole high on her cheek, right beneath her left eye. My thumb stroked a path across my desk. I had the sudden urge to touch it. Kiss it.
Miss Martin’s breathing changed, coming a bit faster than before. Good. Apparently, the little goddess wasn’t completely oblivious to me. I wondered what it would take to get Lucy to blush some more.
Then and there I decided I was going to have this woman in my bed. Life would pause being an interminable bore just long enough for me to feel her tightness milking me until I couldn’t think.
The question being how to get her there? What did she need for that to happen?
Looking at her yellow notebook, I didn’t take long to figure out a strategy. Lucy wanted to be a hero in my grandfather’s eyes. This wasn’t just about a job. She promised Grandfather she wouldn’t let him down. Her word mattered to her.
How did she put it?
As good as gold.
Principles. How unexpected!
Which meant I had to play nice. I could be nice if there was something in it for me. Having Lucy Martin sprawled naked in my bed, legs wrapped around my back as I fucked her into screaming submission was quite an inducement.
And judging by what I’d seen already, she wasn’t going to be an easy conquest. Pesky principles, optimism, morality and all that.
Hmm…her treasure trove of brighter emotions could be fun to play with.
Turning away from Lucy’s delectable form, I focused my attention back onto my screen. “Today will most likely be boring for you, but as long as you keep quiet for the next hour while I answer these e-mails then maybe I’ll take you on that tour.”
I spared her a glance, catching her smile. It was genuine, beautiful actually. None of that artifice I usually surrounded myself with. Lucy should smile more often.
Rather, she should smile at me more often.
“Okay. I can do quiet. Do you need any coffee or some water?”
“You’re not my PA, Miss Lucy. Need I remind you again?”
“I know I’m not, but I was going to run and get some for myself…so do you want?”
Yes, I want. I want you to sit on my lap while I suck your nipples.
“Water if you insist.”
She smiled again and stood up. “I’ll be back.”
Shamelessly, I watched as she walked out my office, notebook clutched against her side. Her black skirt rose a few inches in the back due to her luscious ass. Not high enough, but still it was better than nothing. My palms tingled as I imagined how nicely she’d overflow my hands.
Yes, Lucy Martin would definitely be worth me pretending to be more angel than devil for the next week or so. By the time she found out differently, I’d be done with her.
And she’d be out of King Cosmetics.
8
LUCY
My first day didn’t go too bad. Granted Killian was a big jerk at the beginning, but he eased up a bit as the day went on. However, he was still Killian King which meant he was still a jerk.
Only less of one.
As he semi-promised, Killian took me on a tour. Just not the factory. When I asked to see it, he bluntly said, “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t feel like putting on safety goggles and a cap. It’ll mess up my hair. You’re free to ask Gramps for a tour. In fact, I encourage you to take as long as you’d like. All day in fact.”
“I’ll pass. You can show me another time.”
“Mighty big assumption on your part, Miss Lucy, that you’ll still be here.”
I didn’t reply, but if he thought he was going to run me off my job then he had another thing coming. I didn’t quit on anything I set my mind to. Ever.
Killian Devil King of Brats wasn’t about to make me start now.
I followed him around the rest of the day, trying to get a bead on how he spent his time. Based on what Mr. King stated, I expected the younger King to run the clock by playing games on his computer or phone all day.
He didn’t.
Killian spent his time answering e-mails and fielding phone calls from their packaging factory in Singapore, mica suppliers in India, regulatory agents from the FDA, and numerous other contacts on the supply chain.
When he wasn’t doing that he worked on formulas. When I asked him why, he paused in the middle of writing on his white board.
“It’s what I do for fun.”
He wasn’t even being snide or sarcastic. I wasn’t even sure if he meant to answer me honestly. But there it was. A step, tiny as it may have been.
“Are they problems from school?”
“I don’t have homework, Miss Lucy. If you must, they’re the chemical compounds for a particular pigment shade.”
This was an unexpected surprise.
Keeping a respectful distance, I looked at the slashing black letters and numbers taking over half the board. Precise. Neat. Deliberate. If Mr. King hadn’t already shared, this proved it.
Killian King was brilliant.
“It’s beautiful.”
He halfway turned, arching a brow, hand still hovering over an incomplete line. “Surely you must be joking. Or sucking up. Which is it?”
“Neither.” I crossed my arms behind my back. “They’re the same letters and numbers I u
se every day but when you write them…their meaning becomes a language I don’t understand.”
Killian didn’t immediately shoot back with a biting remark. “That makes it beautiful?”
I gestured to the board. “Yes. It’s a mystery to me but not to you. You’re able to distill color into a formula. That’s amazing.”
He turned fully back to the board. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For surprising me.”
I could’ve probed, but I doubted Killian would’ve solved this particular mystery for me. Still, I felt happy. I’d reached him, even if just a little bit. Despite our rocky beginning, I wanted to help him.
Not be more productive or become a better asset to his grandfather, but to heal from the wounds that made him lash out. I didn’t delude myself that just because Killian was somewhat nicer, it didn’t mean he tolerated or trusted me.
My presence in his life was humiliating. There was no doubt I would’ve felt the same if I was in his shoes. Everyone in the main office probably knew why I was there.
To earn a sliver of trust, I’d really have to prove myself to Killian.
And I want to.
I hated to see anyone in pain. As I stood there watching Killian’s hand fly over the whiteboard, I saw a brilliant mind being attacked from within and without. Mr. King was right about his grandson.
Killian King was indeed lost, angry, and closed off.
It didn’t take much to see why he liked working formulas for fun. This was a man who needed answers. I just didn’t know exactly what happened in his life that remained unsolved.
Help him solve it and all this pain will go away.
I didn’t know how I’d do it, but I would. No matter what it took.
9
KILLIAN
I’d never admit it, but having the little goddess watch me work out the structure for a new shade of amethyst made my dick hard.
She wasn’t saying it to be polite. I’d have seen right through that. No, she genuinely found interest in watching me.
I’d also never admit how much I enjoyed her silence. No needless prattling. No constant struggle to divert my attention back to her. At one point, she walked to my desk. I thought I’d lost her focus only for her to pick up a chair and move it closer. Glancing back, I saw her flip open her notebook.