Indebted To A King
Page 1
Table of Contents
License Note
Books By Lisa
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Bonus Stuff!
Note From Lisa
Where You Can Find Me
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Indebted To A King
Lisa Lang Blakeney
Writergirl Press
This Is Dedicated To My Dad, Walt, Who Better Never Read This Book But Who Has Always Encouraged My Writing. Thanks daddy!
LISA LANG BLAKENEY
Thank you for purchasing Indebted To A King. Please join
MY MAILING LIST
To be notified of new releases in the King Brothers Series as well as other upcoming new books, teasers, giveaways and ARCs!
Copyright © 2018 by Lisa Lang Blakeney
All rights reserved.
Published by: Writergirl Press
Edited by: Marla Esposito
Cover by: WritergirlPress
Contents
License Note
Books By Lisa
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Bonus Stuff!
Note From Lisa
Where You Can Find Me
Books By Lisa
Acknowledgments
About the Author
License Note
This book is available for purchase at Amazon.com. If you found this book for free online or from another retailer other than Amazon, it means the author was not compensated for it.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.
This book contains mature content, including graphic sex. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.
NOTE: All characters in the book are 18+ years of age and all sexual acts are consensual.
Books By Lisa
THE COUSINS SERIES
Cousins: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Book 1)
Cousins: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Book 2)
Cousins In Love: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Book 3)
Cousins Boxed Set (Limited Edition)
THE KING BROTHERS SERIES
Claimed By A King
Indebted To A King
STANDALONES
Gunslinger: A Sports Romance
Introduction
There's something about Cutter King that reminds me of every bad relationship I've been in and every bad decision I've ever made…
He’s desperately good looking, but he knows it.
He's built sturdy and strong like a tank, but he's reckless.
He looks like every woman's fantasy, yet for me he’s a nightmare.
Too bad I owe him big time.
And now he’s moved in next door to collect.
AUTHOR’S PROMISE: This is a full length, standalone novel, featuring a strong alpha with no cheating (and as always) a happily ever after. Be advised that due to strong language and yummy sex, this book is not intended for the easily offended or readers under 18.
One
cutter
Twelve Years Ago
I lift my knees higher and higher.
My feet move swiftly.
My breaths heave rapidly.
I move as fast as humanly possible, but the price of speed is that my feet hurt like hell. The inside seams of my Chucks are rubbing against my feet and ankles, and I'm going to have huge blisters by the end of the night. On top of all of that, I'm sweating like a country fair pig.
"We're going to get in on the other side!" my brother Camden yells at me with hurried breaths. "Move your ass."
Right this very second, the two of us are being chased by a pair of rent-a-cops. Stadium security. They caught us trying to sneak in to watch the first playoff game of the season. This series is a big deal to us and to the city, and we want the bragging rights to say that we were "there" for at least one playoff game for our hometown team.
We've been running from these two bozos for what seems like forever, because we're not trying to leave the stadium, we're actually still trying to find another way inside. We're counting on the strong probability that eventually these two fat fucks will give up running after us. They don't carry guns and they're not paid enough to put forth the effort. It's just going to take them a minute to realize it.
"Five more minutes and they're going to quit. They're already slowing down." My brother laughs as we continue to sprint around the corner of the massive building. "Let's split up, and I'll meet you inside at the spot."
I turn my head to take another look and notice that one of the men is severely out of breath. Holding his palm to his chest. His body hungry for oxygen. The other guard also notices his partner is in distress and slows down to assist. Camden was right. They're done.
I keep moving and try jiggling a few door handles until I reach a blue painted steel door that's open. It's probably a staff entrance, because it's close to something called the Omni Lounge. Some private area the ball players probably chill in after the game. I get a couple of looks from people walking by but not suspicious ones. That's when I know I'm finally safe. I'm smiling from ear to ear in triumph, not paying attention, when I run into something or rather someone.
"Ouch!"
I run right into her. The most beautiful girl in the entire stadium. The girl I'm going to marry (if I ever do something dumb like get married).
She's definitely my age if not a little younger. Her hair is pulled back into a shiny, jet black ponytail and it shimmies playfully against her honey colored flesh. She's wearing braces, and she's tall and sort of gangly, but her eyes are the shapes of almonds and they dance when she speaks. They brighten her entire face. In fact, they brighten this entire building.
"Watch where you're going, meathead," she says with what I suppose is her angry face. Eyes still
sparkling but mouth really serious.
I'm not used to girls talking to me the way that she does. I'm tall for my age and not bad looking at all. Girls usually act goofy, lost for words, and giggle around me. Definitely not this.
"My bad." Is all I manage to respond with while staring at her glossy pink lips. Wondering what section of the city she lives in. Where she goes to school. If she has a boyfriend. If she's ever had a boyfriend.
"Eww, you're all sweaty." She points out the obvious with her face squished up.
I laugh out loud.
"What's so funny?" she asks. Perhaps afraid that I'm laughing at her. I'm not. I'm just amused by her spunk. Most girls find me intimidating. I'm really big for my age. She apparently could care less.
"What school do you go to?" I ask.
"Definitely not yours," she says.
"Can I get your phone number?"
"For what?"
"To call you."
"I'm too young to date."
"I just want to be friends," I lie.
"I don't need any more friends."
"You're hurting my feelings," I say giving her my biggest smile.
"I think you'll be okay." She smiles back.
That smile.
It's like sunshine.
I want to talk longer. I want to ask her a thousand questions. But before we can finish talking, two men walk over and move together to stand in front of her. Forming a human shield with serious "don't fuck with her" looks across their faces.
I've had my share of fights in school and with kids in the neighborhood, but I've never gone toe to toe with a grown man before. Not to mention two. I don't want to look like a pussy in front of her though, so my suicidal ass actually considers throwing my hands up for a moment until I hear my name being bellowed from behind me.
"Cut!"
My brother is flying around the corridor toward me at record breaking speed. At first, I think it's because he's still being chased, but then I quickly realize it's because he thinks I'm in trouble.
Crap.
Cam and I are practically carbon copies of each other. When we run, people notice. Something which isn't a good idea if the plan is to sneak in here and watch the game.
"It's cool." I try throwing my hand up to stop his approach, but it's a little too late. The two beefy dudes get into a defensive formation in response to Camden, and thanks to that we've gotten the attention of too many other people as well.
Including security.
"Is everything all right over here?"
"Dammit, Cutter," my brother mutters only loud enough for me to hear.
"What?" I whisper angrily. "You're the one who came barreling over here like someone had a gun to my head, big goober."
"Everything's fine, sir," I say in an attempt to salvage our evening, although I don't know what we're going to do if the guards ask to see our tickets. We don't have any. "My brother here misread the situation and thought I was in some sort of trouble, so he rushed over. Everything's all good."
One of the beefy dudes standing in front of my dream girl interjects.
"Actually, you both seem to be in some sort of rush. Your brother running through a crowd of people toward us like he was on the attack, and you almost knocking over this young lady rushing to wherever you were headed as well."
"There's no law against running is there?" I smile and say before Camden opens his big mouth, because if he does it's probably going to be something adversarial and then we'll really be up shit's creek.
Then she speaks.
"Oh my God, Percy, it's not a big deal. I'm fine. They didn't do anything. Can't we just go to our seats now?"
The stadium security guard's eyes enlarge. He seems to suddenly recognize the girl and now seems super concerned.
"Sorry to hold you up, miss. Please go take your seat. We can handle this."
I know this means we're about to be thrown out of here. Maybe even detained in the back office if he realizes that we don't have tickets.
I decide to look at her one more time. Commit her pretty face to memory. When I do she blushes and looks away. Before he died, our father taught us a lot about reading body language. He said it was a skill that would save our asses one day, but it's also a superpower I can use to read girls, and I like what her body is saying.
Cheers ring out in the stadium.
The starters on the home team are being introduced onto the stadium floor.
"Come on, Percy. Dad will kill me if he notices that I'm not in my seat."
She glances up at me one last time, whips her silkened ponytail around, and walks away. I continue to watch her as her narrow hips sway behind the two.
"What the hell was that?" my brother asks as we exit the stadium with a security escort and long faces. "Was she someone we were supposed to know? What was up with those two goons guarding her?"
"I'm not sure what that was."
"You should have just said excuse me to her and kept going to the meeting point."
"I know."
"Well I hope you realize that you've just blown our chance at watching a playoff game live. Now we've got to watch it at home like all the other suckers. I've never seen you act like that. She couldn't have been any older than fourteen."
"Probably."
He snaps his fingers in front of my face.
"I don't know what she said to you, but she must be one hell of a girl to get your undivided attention."
"I think she is."
"Well shake it off. It's not like you're ever going to see her again."
I have a feeling that I will though.
It's just a matter of time.
Two
Sloan
My heart, my liver, my lungs.
My heart, my liver, my lungs.
Every one of my internal organs seems to pulse in tandem with the beat of the song playing inside Lotus. An instrumental, bass heavy, dance song that is as familiar as apple pie on a Friday night in Philadelphia. The energy is so thick inside of the club tonight, that I could cut it with a knife and spread it on a piece of toast.
Endless bodies are winding and coiling around each other on the dance floor. Writhing to the beat in a sexual tango. A prelude of what's to come at the end of the night for some. It's quite a hypnotic experience. Even if you're just watching.
I'm a party girl by nature, but I come to this club specifically for the unique experience, the stunning ambience, and the beautiful people. Working the room of a place like Lotus gives me the most incredible high.
I usually go clubbing with a girlfriend or two, or sometimes with a group of coworkers, but I never stay with them all night. That's no way to meet a man. I'd rather fly solo. I think it was one of my mom's nutty friends who taught me that dating strategy.
I dance to be seen. I dance to sweat. Then I walk around on a complete euphoric high to the music and see who's inside. Stalking my prey much like a lethal predator. Hoping I spot someone worth dancing with, then perhaps exchanging phone numbers with, and maybe even sleeping with. But believe it or not, those kinds of men are very hard to find nowadays. Especially in this city. Talk about six degrees of separation.
I think I personally know or at least know someone that knows almost every single, professional, man between the ages of twenty-five to thirty-five in Philadelphia. It's a smaller pool of men than you would think. Tonight though, I'm not here for any of that. Tonight, I'm planting myself at the bar strictly for the alcohol. After the crappy day I've had at work, all I want to do is get blitzed, because my sales numbers are off.
Way off.
I ran my monthly sales statistics at work a ridiculous total of fourteen times, but the end result was still the same. Disappointing and well below last month's numbers.
Several years ago, I graduated with a degree from the prestigious Wharton School of Business at the University of Pennsylvania. Regretfully, I didn't get into Penn on my own merit, but because my father's fame and wealth bought me a spot. While I was a
ble to keep my head above water academically, I'm actually amazed that I graduated in four years. I was mostly a partier or the type who would rather Netflix and chill–not study. After graduation, I stupidly thought that the school's reputation and the last name on my degree would be enough to land me a sweet position at a Fortune 500.
Boy was I naïve.
When it came time to secure a job after graduation, HR professionals didn't care that my dad was a basketball legend, all they cared about was my skillset–which wasn't that impressive. I was twenty-one years old, with no real job or solid intern experience, and my daddy was paying my rent. All I had was a fancy degree and a pretty smile. No one would hire me.
It was at that moment that I'd finally seen the light. I realized that I had been leaning on my family name like a crutch instead of a ladder. My dependency on my family was stunting my growth, and I didn't like who I had become. It was time to make a change. To stand on my own two feet. So I accepted the first decent job I could land, without my father's help, which was in the pharmaceutical industry. Specifically, pharmaceutical sales.