101 Nights Box Set: Volume One

by SE Reign

  Why else would he offer to buy me a café, if he didn’t have the depth to house some small drop of goodness?

  Then again, what kind of man hides something behind unassociated bank accounts in countries that aren’t on a map?

  I don’t know what to think of him.

  Malika studies me for a moment longer.

  I’m pretty certain she doesn’t find any crack in my exterior, mostly because I’m being honest. I suspect there is a side of Elijah no one has seen. I don’t know if I will see it either, not if I’m only in his life for three months. But my instincts tell me it’s there. Buried deep beneath whatever he went through. I’ve already resigned myself to helping ten thousand people by sacrificing my own interests and life.

  I’m not sure how I feel about it, though, admitting that if I get roped into more than an engagement, I’ll do what I’m doing now: whatever it takes to help others.

  “I hope you are right, Ms. Hanover,” Malika says at last. “I wish you luck with Elijah. If you’ll excuse me, I need to deliver a message to my nephew from his father. We will speak again, I hope.” She gives me the same stiff bow of her head that she gave Elijah.

  I watch her leave and release a breath. I have the urge to run into the bathroom and hide there. But she and Elijah are both right: I have to get used to this high profile life.

  From across the room, Elijah catches my gaze. His is dark, brooding and penetrating. It makes my blood heat. His eyes travel down my body and linger first on my breasts and then my crotch. Where he looks, my skin tingles, anticipating his touch.

  I feel fevered yet sensual, knowing of all the beautiful celebrities in the room, he’s looking at me in a combination of appreciation and burning desire. I have a feeling that, even when we’re separated, he’s always aware of me. He has that strange predatory sense I’ve never experienced before in a man that makes me think he always knows where I am, what I’m doing.

  He’s so tall, athletic and handsome, his body perfect in every way, covered by a coat of dark honey skin. I’ve never seen anyone with such natural beauty or presence like this man. Even in a room full of powerful, influential people, he stands out, a master in his own right of everything around him.

  Malika reaches him, and he lifts his eyes to mine once more before greeting his aunt.

  The giddiness is back, this time from the wordless exchange, sizzling look and knowing that, after this, the most powerful man in the room will be lying naked with me in bed.

  The two walk away, talking quietly.

  I seek out the Anchor and take a deep breath. Elijah is right. I need to act like the woman I am and the one that everyone else thinks I am becoming.

  I’m coming for your autograph now!

  Chapter Five: Elijah

  Fuck. Malika is making a beeline for me. A confidante of my father, anything she learns goes straight back to him. While I know Natalie will never reveal our deal, I also suspect that her lack of guardedness might make her say more than I ever would to someone like Malika. I didn’t have time to warn Natalie not to trust anyone in my family. Ever.

  I glance from her to Natalie, whose earthy beauty draws my eye, no matter where she is. I know how scared and nervous she is and am more than a little satisfied that she chose to lean on me in this circumstance. She’s almost shimmering with a sense of fragility, her emotions in her eyes and her stunning features too unguarded to know to hide them.

  Her vulnerability and innocence is a little too … endearing. I’m almost twitching to feel her in my arms again, to sweep her away and fuck her until the unearthly need I feel to possess her is gone and I’m tired of her. I’ve never wanted to possess any woman, to know she lives and breathes only for me. I prefer professional submissives, ones who understand the game.

  I’ve been working on slaking that feeling for a week and only growing more frustrated that I just can’t get her out of my system. It’s never happened before, and the idea of her throwing herself at some fucking meathead … I’ve never had the urge to drag a woman out of a party to fuck her until she’s begging her master to stop before tonight. I’ve never had any woman look at another man when I was with her either.

  My aunt reaches me and bows her head.

  “You don’t have to pretend to respect me,” I say curtly.

  “I respect the title, not the man,” she replies. “Would you do me the honor of walking with me?”

  I step aside and motion for her to go ahead of me.

  “Your fiancée is quite fetching,” Malika starts. “Nothing like the kind of woman I’d expect you to settle with.”

  “Because I never think of the Crown when I act,” I reply acidly.

  “That is between you and your father.”

  I say nothing. There’s too much water under the bridge among the close-knit members of my family for me to ever feel comfortable again with any of them.

  “You did not attend your brother’s funeral,” Malika observed. “Your father was hurt.”

  “Good. I wish it’d have killed him instead of Nassir.”

  Malika is nonplussed. “This girl you want to marry. Your father does not approve.”

  “He didn’t dictate who I should marry, only that I should.”

  “True. Are you capable of seeing beyond your divide with your father to know what you’re doing, Elijah? An American queen?”

  “She’ll be Nijalan by then,” I reply.

  “She’ll always be an American in the eyes of the people. But beyond that, a woman who seems more fitted to Nassir than you?”

  We stop walking, and I gaze down at her. While not surprised by the comparison to my perfect brother, I am surprised by the idea that Natalie is better suited to someone generally viewed as an honorable, level headed and fair person.

  My opposite.

  I’d never considered this before, that Natalie is the kind of person Nassir might like.

  It’s a compliment. I think. There’s no telling what game Malika is playing, but I think she just told me my fiancée is too good for me.

  Ah. Is that the trait I’ve been missing? Purity?

  “I know exactly what I’m doing,” I say. “I always do.”

  “You have no concern for the toll this will take on her?”

  “She understands what she’s doing as well.”

  “Then you won’t mind your father’s latest pondering,” Malika continues. “He is leaning towards putting your cousin on the throne, even if you succeed this three months. He doesn’t think you’re capable of seeing it through to marriage.”

  I listen, sensing she has her own agenda. It’s the case many times among powerful allies. She and my father have the same parents, but at the end of the day, they are powerful people with their own hidden ambitions.

  “As objectionable as an American queen is, it’s better than a king with no connection to the kingdom at all. Your cousin was born in England and has lived there his whole life,” she states. “Your father is only looking at him for the same reason you are spiting him with an engagement to an American: because you two are still at war after all these years.”

  I don’t let myself recall the history that put us at war. It’s taken me years to bury it deep, and I’m not about to let that evil djinn out of the box where I’ve buried it.

  “Be that as it may, your cousin has just announced his wife is pregnant with a son. An heir, Elijah.”

  A knot tightens in my stomach. I see where she’s going before she says it.

  “Your father doubts you’ll marry and doubts you’ll produce a legitimate heir, even if you do. But if you did, Elijah …” Malika shrugs. “He’d have no justification for giving over your title to your cousin.”

  “You want me to have an heir to secure the throne.”

  “I think it’s in your best interest, and it will keep the Crown from falling to an outsider.”

  I will never pass down the darkness that runs in my family. I’d thought about what happens if I am forced to get married
to claim the throne. Like anything else I wanted in life, I’d do it without a second thought.

  I never let myself think about what happens if I have to produce an heir, because I long ago decided I’d never do such a thing. Ever. I’ll never pass down the dysfunction that I learned about when I was only seven, the blackness of heart that my father showed me for many, many years. No, I swore long ago never to put myself in a position where I might hurt my own children, because of some mental illness my father clearly has.

  “An heir is out of the question until after the wedding,” I tell her, my words chosen carefully.

  “Move the wedding up,” Malika suggests. “I haven’t heard a date yet. It won’t surprise people. Besides, if you really want the Crown, Elijah, I’m telling you how to get it. Your father has entrusted no one with his thoughts on naming your cousin heir to the throne aside from me. I want you to act before he does.”

  “I appreciate the favor. It’s a little late to help me,” I snap.

  “Then you lose the Crown. It’s up to you.”

  “It’s too much pressure on Natalie. She’s got to learn the ropes first.”

  “Knock her up or knock someone else up. There are a million beautiful women who would bear your heir just to get access to your title and wealth. Find a way or lose the Crown. It’s up to you.” She bows her head and walks away.

  I watch for a moment. I buried my memories deep but not the emotions surrounding them. They’re starting to bubble up and frazzle at the calm I need to portray this night.

  I don’t need to ask Natalie to know she’d never agree, because no decent, rational person would.

  I’m neither decent nor rational. If it had been anything else, I’d never think twice about how to do it – I’d do whatever it takes.

  Yet an heir. A child. Someone I’d have to protect not just from the world, but maybe from my family or myself … someone who might go through what I did growing up.

  I’m a fucking mess. I know it. I don’t care anymore why or how. I accept what I am. But I’ll never turn someone else into me.

  My chest is so tight, I’m having trouble breathing. I wind my way through the crowd to a balcony and step into the night. The massive balcony overlooks a central garden. The moon is high, the early spring air a bit chilly.

  I’m not capable of creating the environment a child needs. There’s no room for affection and control, no way I can live like this anymore. No way to protect him from anything.

  No way to know if I’ll end up fucking him up the way my father did me.

  Loosening my cravat, I lean against the railing and stare into the night, not seeing anything. My stomach is churning, my mind spinning. I’ve never failed at anything, but this … this is something else entirely.

  I’m not sure how long I stand there until the chilly evening sinks through my clothing. I straighten. I’m so tense, my muscles ache.

  “Long time, no see, Elijah.”

  It takes me a moment to register someone spoke to me then to identify whose voice it is.

  “Fiona,” I say and turn, facing the bombshell blonde model that’s been on more magazine covers than any other model in history.

  Tall, willowy with a low cut dress revealing the curves of her breasts and her hair up in an elegant twist, Fiona is the epitome of my favorite kind of woman. Physically perfect with a nympho appetite and a mind almost as dirty as mine.

  There was a time when we were expected to get engaged.

  “I thought I’d offer my congrats,” she says. She’s studying me, her large blue eyes and husky voice stirring my blood.

  “Thanks,” I reply. “I heard yours is off.”

  “You know how it goes,” she says with a shrug. “I’m not much of one for being exclusive. I didn’t think you were either.”

  I offer a smile, eyes on her breasts.

  “Or maybe you’re not,” she adds. “I always said I’d make a great Grace Kelly.”

  “And I always said I’d never get married,” I recall with a chuckle. “Never thought I’d be the one to get chained down first.”

  “You aren’t married yet,” she says in a low voice. She moves closer, until our bodies are touching.

  God, I love her huge breasts, real or not! I wouldn’t have to be careful with her in bed the way I am Natalie, who is new to the dom-sub relationship. Fiona knows my appetite and how much I love control. She got off on being submissive and tied while I did whatever the fuck I wanted to her.

  “Remember the time we had four dildos going?” she purrs, aware of my weakness for vibrators.

  “Too well,” I reply.

  She kisses me. I prefer women to ask permission, which she knows, but I humor her this once. She tastes like whisky, the flavor of her mouth more sour than sweet, unlike Natalie’s. Maybe it’s a week of nothing but Natalie in my bed, but I realize I don’t like the way Fiona tastes. By her scent, she’s fucked another man recently; his scent is still on her skin.

  That never used to bother me. My mind goes to Natalie’s infatuation with some stupid professional wrestler, and I feel a stirring of something I don’t like: fury. I can’t imagine what I’d do if I smelled another man’s cum or skin on her. I’ve never been a jealous or possessive lover, mainly because I never gave a fuck about anyone else. I’ve never been exclusive.

  I lift my head. “You forget my rules,” I tell Fiona, my hands falling away from her hips. I don’t like how her hips are so narrow. Natalie has hips I love grabbing from behind and an ass that’s perky and tight yet squeezable. There’s something for me to grab, unlike Fiona’s bottom.

  “You’ve never done that before.” She gazes at me, a little surprised. “You can’t be serious about becoming monogamous. You once called that a fate worse than death.”

  “It still may be. But I’m engaged.” Even if I don’t want to be and know it’s not going to last. “I’ve got to keep my father happy.”

  There’s an odd gleam in her eyes, one I can’t place. I’m not sure what it is about her hitting on me that’s bothering me, except that I keep thinking about Natalie hitting on someone else like this.

  What is wrong with me tonight? First Malika fucks up my calm and now Fiona makes me feel things I don’t want to.

  “I know what’ll turn you on,” Fiona says with a wicked grin.

  I focus on her, needing to get the fuck out of my emotions.

  She wriggles, tugging her dress up to her hips to expose her pussy then lifts one leg, propping it on the balcony beside me. She sticks two fingers into her mouth, holding my gaze, then slides her fingers into her exposed pussy. I can hear how wet she is, see the pink folds of skin and swollen clit.

  Her head goes back, and she moans.

  I love a woman who moans and screams in bed. It’s such a turn on.

  Except right now, I’m still pissed. I can’t enjoy watching her fuck herself, and I definitely can’t join in, not when I’m still thinking about Natalie with some fuckstick of an actor-wannabe. I’m getting angrier by the second.

  I just don’t get it. I can’t even appreciate watching Fiona masturbate, which is a first for me.

  “Sorry, Fiona. Not in the mood,” I say curtly.

  She looks at me, the sounds of her wet cunt around her fingers growing silent.

  “You’re serious,” she says after a stunned moment. “You’re not remotely interested in me.”

  “It’s not you. I’m going through some stuff,” I explain. “You need to be careful, Fiona. You don’t want this on the front page of some tabloid after all the bad press you’ve gotten lately with the production company suing you.”

  “You know about that.” She stares at me for a long moment then lowers her leg and pulls down her dress. “You always know about these things.”

  “I keep tabs on my friends,” I reply with a smile. “I like to know when they’re in trouble, so maybe I can help out.”

  “You still consider me to be a friend?” Her face skews in disbelief.

&n
bsp; I chuckle. “Want me to put in a good word with the owner of the company?”

  “God, EJ.” She sighs. “It’s been a rough patch.” No longer interested in fucking me, her gaze grows distant, and she goes to the railing, leaning against it.

  I know her history well. She shot to fame as a model when she was seventeen. I met her when she was nineteen, and we fucked off and on for a year then went our separate ways, only to end up together again three years later. Not that we were ever exclusive; I fucked a lot of women while I was with her and in between. She’s got similar tastes to me, which is hard to find, and I never minded putting in a call when I was in LA for a quickie.

  But she’s a lot like me: fucked up because of a bad past and left alone to try to navigate her sudden fame. She’s been in rehab about seven times now and is known for a string of lovers and engagements that never last. Her latest issue: backing out of a film after signing the contract, because her people didn’t tell her one important detail, that she wasn’t allowed to film anything else until this movie is done, and it doesn’t start shooting for another six months. Which means: she can’t make money in movies to pay off substantial debts caused by a money manager who squandered her fortune away.

  Like George, she’s one of the few friends I have, even if she’s currently more fucked up than I am.

  “I can help,” I say, turning to join her. “You don’t need to fuck me for me to do you a favor.”

  “Just when I think I know you …” She shakes her head. “I’m about two inches less fucked up than Megan in there.”

  “You made a few bad choices and trusted people you shouldn’t have with your business affairs. I’ll send you the name of a few good money managers and an attorney or two who can help.”

  “You always did take care of me. Never understood why.” She gazes at me curiously.

  “Once a friend, always a friend. I don’t have many.”

  “Because you’re a dick,” she says with a smile. “I mean it. If you ever need a Grace Kelly, call me. I’ll fucking marry you in a heartbeat. May not be monogamous, but I think we know how that works.” She takes my face and kisses me hard. “I’ll take the favor, EJ. No idea how or when I can pay you back, but I’ll find a way someday.”