King's Rule

by Jackie Ashenden

I tossed the stupid button away and took her chin in my hand so she couldn’t turn away. ‘What is it?’ I repeated. ‘Something’s bothering you and I don’t think it’s me.’

  She’d gone rigid. I could feel the tension in her jaw, the muscle tight beneath the silky heat of her skin, and I tensed too, expecting her to shove me away like she’d done yesterday.

  But she remained still, her expression stubborn. ‘Of course it’s you, you prick. You’re leaning over me and you’re—’

  ‘It’s not. Stop lying to me, Poppy.’

  ‘I’m not buying those goddamned clothes,’ she said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Why not? Because if it’s just to argue with me then—’

  ‘It’s not just to argue with you.’ There was a defiant expression in her eyes now, the look of a soldier determined to go down fighting.

  And I suddenly wanted to soothe her, stroke her lovely jaw with my thumb, tell her that it was okay, that she could tell me. It was disturbing. I didn’t even like the woman, let alone want her to tell me her secrets.

  Instead I demanded, ‘Then why? Surely even you must realise that what you’re wearing isn’t appropriate?’

  ‘Yes, I know that.’

  ‘Then why—?’

  ‘Because I can’t afford to buy any, okay?’ She threw the words at me like stones. ‘Was that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?’

  Ignoring the accusation in her tone, I frowned.

  How could she not afford it? Last I’d heard she was earning money as a waitress and, even though waitressing wasn’t the world’s most highly paid job, there was also the allowance I continued to pay Lily. It was very generous for one person and there would certainly be enough to buy Poppy a few items for work if need be.

  So was this another lie? But no, Poppy was too obviously furious with me, which meant she hadn’t wanted to tell me.

  Interesting.

  ‘Why not?’ I kept a tight hold on her chin, trying not to be so conscious of the softness of her skin beneath my fingers and that tantalising gap in the fabric of her shirt. ‘You had a job, didn’t you?’

  She jerked her head out of my grip. ‘I’m not explaining myself to you. Just leave me the hell alone.’

  Her cheeks were flushed and it looked like shame. And part of me wanted to grab her again, force her to look at me, force her to tell me just what the hell was going on.

  But I’d been too close to her for too long already and if I remained there any longer, I’d probably do something I’d regret. Besides, what did I care that she’d spent her money? I’d promised to take care of her and her mother, and I had. They had an allowance. It wasn’t my problem if they’d spent it all. Anyway, this pointless arguing was starting to eat into my work day and I had a lot to get through.

  I straightened and forced myself back from her chair, digging in my pocket for my wallet and taking it out.

  Poppy eyed me suspiciously. ‘What are you doing now?’

  ‘I’m not having you wandering around the office looking like that. You need appropriate work clothes and you need them now. So here’s some money to buy them.’ Extracting a few notes, I held them out to her.

  For a moment she looked shocked. Then anger once again flooded her lovely face. ‘I don’t need your charity. I’ll get them—’

  ‘Be quiet,’ I snapped, my patience running out. ‘You’ll take this money and you’ll buy yourself something appropriate. And then you’ll come back and be ready for work. No more goddamn arguments.’

  Poppy opened her mouth.

  ‘Unless you don’t want that reference after all.’

  She shut it again and there was a long beat of silence where she simply stared at me, fury and a whole lot of other emotions I didn’t recognise burning like a wildfire in her eyes.

  I stared back, oddly fascinated by how those emotions moved and shifted, and how brightly they burned. Passionate woman. What did all those feelings mean? Why was she so angry? And why hadn’t she wanted to tell me she had no money?

  Why was she so angry with me all the bloody time?

  More to the point, why do you care?

  Good question.

  But I didn’t have a chance to think about it, because she shoved herself out of the chair, snatched the cash from my hand and turned without a word to the door.

  Then she stalked through it, slamming it behind her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Poppy

  I WALKED OUT of Xander’s office quivering with rage.

  Barely looking where I was going, I strode through the crowded streets, my head full of his black gaze and my body hot and shivery from his nearness, fury burning like acid inside me.

  I hated him. I hated him.

  The day had started off badly and things had only gone downhill from there.

  First Mum had forgotten her prescription for her anti-depressants, meaning I had to go out and get them, no matter that I was going to be late for work. Then I hadn’t been able to find any proper work clothes, which I had known was going to be an issue. But I’d hoped that if Xander had a problem with them, I’d borrow some from Mum the next day.

  But of course he’d had a problem with them.

  And, even worse, he’d forced me to admit that I had no money to buy new ones.

  That alone made me furious. Admitting any kind of vulnerability to his face felt like I was exposing a weakness and I couldn’t do that, not in the presence of an enemy like him. He was both a King and a known asshole, and he’d no doubt be as ruthless when it came to taking advantage of me as he was when managing the finances for King Enterprises.

  I couldn’t afford to be weak around him. I couldn’t afford for my armour to have any weak spots at all.

  Already he’d made me feel at a disadvantage by leaning over me, putting one hand on the back of the chair, his velvety black gaze looking down into mine. Making me so aware of how close he was and how hot. Of how his broad shoulders nicely filled out his charcoal-grey suit and how the pristine white cotton of his shirt pulled across his chest, clearly outlining the hard muscle beneath it.

  The fresh scent of his cologne, like rain, had surrounded me, and I hadn’t been able to look away from the dark, mesmerising beauty of his face, at the same time hating myself for how I responded to him.

  I’d nearly gasped as he’d flicked that button off my shirt and when he’d taken my chin in his hand a part of me had melted, my skin prickling all over at the strength of his grip and the warm touch of his fingers.

  I hadn’t wanted to tell him I had no money, yet I hadn’t been able to resist him and his questions. He was so persistent, so demanding. As if he was interested enough to want the answer. As if it mattered to him.

  I’d felt it then, the same old feeling that had gripped me the moment I’d first seen him. When I’d been ten and he’d been this tall, black-eyed teenager who’d smiled at me, the only person who’d ever smiled at me apart from my dad. And something inside me had pulled tight then strained towards him like an eager puppy towards its master. I hadn’t understood the effect he’d had on me at the time; I’d only known that it had scared me. I’d just lost my father and I was hurting, struggling with the dread that somehow his suicide had been my fault. The last thing I’d wanted was an emotional connection with another person, especially when, deep down inside, I was afraid that I didn’t deserve it.

  So I’d rejected that pull, fighting it with everything I had.

  Fighting him.

  Yet that initial feeling of being drawn to him hadn’t ever gone away, and it had gripped me again in his office, the terrible urge to confide in him. To tell him all my secrets. As if a part of me knew he could take them away and take care of me the way I wanted to be taken care of.

  But I couldn’t. I’d spent too many years making sure he hated me and there was no coming back from
that, so I’d fought that feeling the way I’d fought it all those years. Yet somehow his heat and his compelling gaze had got the truth out of me all the same, and now I felt like I’d made the stupidest mistake ever.

  I stormed into one of Sydney’s big department stores, part of me tempted to find some sex shop and go and buy a whole lot of rubber fetish gear with his money instead. But I needed that fucking reference, otherwise all this humiliation would have been for nothing.

  So I sorted angrily though racks of demure skirts and conservative blouses, hating everything and hating him most of all.

  I had to do something. Get him back somehow. Exploit his weakness the way he’d exploited mine, and in such a way as to not put my reference in jeopardy. Except to do that I needed to know what his weakness was and sadly I didn’t know enough about him to figure that out.

  I knew that he was the financial genius responsible for the billions he’d made with his brothers after the demise of their father’s criminal empire. That he was cold and ruthless, and completely without a sense of humour. That he never smiled, took everything far too seriously, and yet somehow was still the hottest man I’d ever met.

  He didn’t have a weakness—or at least not one that I knew about.

  Doesn’t he? I think you know what his weakness is.

  I stared at the sheer black blouse I had in my hand, remembering the little scene in his office just before, and how he’d reached out and flicked the loose button off my shirt.

  I’d been so involved with fighting my own instinctive response to him that I hadn’t immediately taken in the flare of heat in his eyes. Or how his gaze had dropped to where the fabric gaped, and that heat had become a blaze...

  I shivered at the realisation, my breath catching.

  Was it me? Was I a weakness for him?

  I glanced down at the blouse, an idea forming in my head. It was the kind of thing my mother would suggest, which immediately made it something I’d never consider, and yet right now I was damn well considering it.

  Xander didn’t want me, not given how much he obviously despised me, but he’d certainly liked looking at my tits. Then again, most men did.

  Unlike my mother, I’d always hated my looks. Hated the responses I got from men because of them, the way people only ever seemed to see a ‘beautiful woman’, never me. And I’d never wanted to use them the way Mum did, to get what I wanted from men.

  But...this was different. I wouldn’t be using my looks to get ahead in my career; I’d be using them to drive Xander King batshit crazy, and there was definitely an appeal in that.

  So maybe I should let him see my breasts a little more. And maybe I should find a tight skirt that made my ass look great and a pair of heels that would make my hips sway when I walked.

  And wouldn’t that be the perfect revenge?

  I pulled the blouse off the rack, found a tight-fitting navy pencil skirt to go with it, then took both of them into the changing rooms to try them on.

  They were perfect. The blouse was sheer enough to give a few hints of the lace of my bra, but not too sheer that it would break any dress codes, and the skirt showed off my ass like a dream.

  Xander had given me enough money for both skirt and blouse, and I even had enough left over for a cheap pair of black patent stilettos that I found in the shoe department.

  Half an hour later, dressed in my new clothes with my old ones in the shopping bag, I headed straight back to King Enterprises, determined to put Xander King firmly in his place.

  When I got there, I pushed open his office door without knocking and went straight in.

  He was sitting behind his big black desk, lounging in his black leather executive chair and talking on his phone.

  I dumped my shopping bag then straightened, folding my arms and staring challengingly at him, my chin lifted.

  He continued his conversation, but his gaze was fierce on mine before dropping down my body to take in the new clothes I’d bought. And, sure enough, now that I was looking for it, I caught him unmistakably lingering on the curves of my breasts and hips.

  This time I didn’t feel the anger and disappointment and shame that usually caught me when men looked at me that way. No. This time I was glad he was looking at me that way. Because if he was it would give me some power and if there was one thing I needed to get through this month with Xander as my boss, it was power.

  Eventually, he ended his conversation, placing the phone carefully back on his desk before clasping his long-fingered hands on the desktop in front of him.

  His gaze was relentless, boring into me, staring at me so intently it was like he was trying to see into the depths of my soul.

  I forced myself to stare back. ‘Well?’ I demanded when he didn’t say anything. ‘I hope this is “work appropriate” enough for you?’

  ‘Turn around.’ His voice was flat and yet somehow full of dark undercurrents that made all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  I lifted my chin higher, determined not to give anything away. ‘Why?’

  ‘No questions. Just do it.’

  And why not? Wasn’t I going to show myself off to him? Tease him with what he couldn’t have? Drive him crazy?

  I gave a shrug and did as I was told, turning slowly around, letting him get a good look at my butt before straightening my spine to thrust my breasts out a bit more.

  Except when I turned back to face him, he wasn’t looking at my breasts. He was looking at me, the expression on his handsome face so stern my mouth went dry.

  I had to force myself to speak. ‘You can take the money for the clothes out of my pay packet.’

  ‘No.’ The word was heavy as iron, the rule of law.

  Bastard.

  ‘Like I said, I’m not taking your charity.’

  ‘You’ll take what you’re given.’ Slowly he unlinked his hands and pushed himself up from the desk. ‘Everyone here gets a clothing allowance. You’re no different.’ He came around the side, heading towards me.

  And my heartbeat sped up. I wanted to back away, retreat before him, but there was no way in hell I was going to give ground so I stayed where I was, daring him to come closer.

  He did, stalking me like the panther he was, not stopping until he was right in front of me, towering over me, the force of his black stare like a hand pressing down on the top of my head. ‘Tell me why you can’t afford to buy yourself work clothes, Poppy.’

  Oh, great. This again. I’d thought—hoped—he’d forgotten.

  ‘Don’t you want to talk to me about the job?’

  He ignored me. ‘Lily gets a very generous allowance. There should be enough for the both of you. Certainly enough for you to buy clothes.’

  I didn’t want him to know that Mum was basically spending everything she got. That one of the many reasons I had to take this job was because I had to support her. Again, it was a vulnerability I couldn’t afford and, apart from anything else, it felt disloyal to tell him.

  If he found out the truth, he might take Mum’s allowance away and I couldn’t let him do that. We’d have basically nothing to live on at all.

  I lifted a shoulder. ‘I spent it—no big deal.’

  ‘All of it?’

  ‘Yeah, all of it.’ I gave him a smile. ‘It’s only money, right?’

  He was silent, watching me, his gaze scalpel-sharp.

  Silence gathered, tension pulling tight in the air around us.

  Awareness of him prickled over my skin, making me feel restless and achy. I wanted to be as still as he was, as sharp as he was, to not give away how his nearness got to me, but that restlessness was building, making me want to move.

  Did he know that I was lying? Could he sense it?

  ‘Do you have enough to live on?’ he asked. ‘To pay your bills and rent?’

  I nearly blinked at the questi
on because it wasn’t what I was expecting. I thought he’d launch into a lecture about spending or demand an itemised list of expenses or something.

  ‘Why?’ I couldn’t quite keep the edge out of my voice. ‘Worried about all your precious money being spent?’

  His straight, dark brows lowered. ‘I’m more concerned with you potentially not being able to afford to pay your bills. Sydney is expensive.’

  Again, that was not what I’d expected. Was he really worried about that? If so, I wasn’t sure I liked it. It made me uncomfortable, made the pull inside me towards him that much more insistent.

  ‘I know how expensive Sydney is,’ I snapped, annoyed with myself and my stupid feelings about him. ‘Don’t patronise me. And if you’re concerned about the promise you made to your father, then don’t be. We’re fine.’

  ‘So fine you apparently don’t have any money to buy work clothes.’

  My cheeks heated.

  ‘Why do you keep lying, Poppy?’ he asked, seeing through me as easily as if I was made of glass. ‘And, more to the point, why do you keep arguing with me? Because you know I won’t tolerate it. This job won’t work if you can’t follow orders.’

  ‘Oh, no, I’d forgotten,’ I shot back before I could think better of it. ‘You wanted a slave not an employee.’

  His expression hardened. ‘I wanted someone who does what I ask them to and who can handle things while I work, not a sulky brat who can’t deal with authority.’

  The words pulsed down my spine like an electric shock, lighting something up inside me that I’d had no idea was there.

  You want him to show you how to deal with authority. His authority.

  The thoughts made me flush with heat, my breath catching. Why did I want that? Why was that always at the forefront of my brain whenever I saw him? And what was it about him that made me feel that way?

  I’d never played dominance games with other guys, never wanted to, and yet one hard word from Xander and I was weak at the knees.

  God, he could never find that out about me. Never.

  Perhaps it’s time to start being your mother?