The King Brothers Boxed Set

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  "Oh you know how it is, Ms. Toddson," I say flashing a smile. "News of prime rental vacancies spreads fast in this town."

  "I guess it does." She grins. "And please call me Maria."

  "Maria then."

  Maria Toddson is a middle-aged realtor with an oversized wedding ring on her finger, and deep crow's feet, who was probably hot as hell in her heyday. She's not the best realtor in the city by a long shot, but she's the one I need for this specific listing.

  "I have no problem showing you the apartment, Mr. King, but based on your credit profile you may be more interested in a vacancy in one of our luxury buildings. I've got a beautiful penthouse coming up in a month on Spruce. It's totally your style."

  "No thanks, Maria. I want that specific apartment, on that floor, in that building, and as soon as possible. Can you make that happen?"

  "If that's what you want, then that's what we'll do. I'll grab the paperwork right now, but just so we're clear, the minimum commitment is a twelve-month lease in that space."

  Aww, that's cute. She's trying to play hardball.

  "This is just a temporary arrangement, Maria. I don't want to be pinned down to a year commitment. Let's just do a month-to-month."

  "Hmm–then if you don't mind, I really think I should show you another space. The owner wants at least a twelve-month commitment on the rental. I promised him that."

  I already did my homework before approaching Maria about this rental. The building is under distress and is in the first leg of the foreclosure process. The owner has a bit of time to turn things around before the bank takes back the property, but he's not handling it well. I'm guessing he probably has nothing but month-to-month renters in the building who are paying rent rates from ten years ago.

  "Does it really have to be this space?"

  "Yes."

  "I don't usually say this to clients, but I feel like you're totally down to earth."

  "I like to think that I am."

  "So then I'll be honest with you. I have to be careful with this particular rental. I took a chance the first time and rented the space to someone who couldn't afford it, and now my boss is giving me a hard time, because we had to spend money to evict her. So while it's obvious that you can afford it, I don't want you to take it if you know you're just going to leave mid-lease. I'd have to find another renter six months from now, and I just can't risk having any more drama."

  I didn't become this wealthy at this age by making stupid decisions. Normally I would wait and try to buy a piece of real estate like this once the property reached the point of a short sale. That's when you can grab a property at a dirt cheap price and immediately make a profit. Yep, I’m about to make a stupid decision, but I can afford it and most of all–I'm highly motivated.

  "Do you think the owner would consider selling?"

  "You want to buy the unit instead of rent it?"

  "No, Maria. I want to buy the whole building not just the apartment. A cash offer. Would that settle things?"

  Her eyes widen.

  "Really? I mean if I was going to be totally forthright, Mr. King, I'd tell you that my boss would probably jump at the right offer."

  "Get me in the room with the owner today, and I'll make sure that part of the agreement includes that you get a five percent commission."

  She tries to contain how excited she is.

  "You're positive? The entire building?"

  "Positive."

  "Awesome! I'll get him on the phone right now." We shake hands to make it official. "Welcome to the neighborhood, Mr. King."

  For the last five years, I've lived in the carriage house that my brother and I bought together. It was our first substantial real estate purchase since leaving our mother's tiny row house in the old neighborhood. We made sure to buy a place that was spacious, with high ceilings, to accommodate our large statures. A home that's modern, professionally decorated, and is regularly cleaned by a diligent crew of women who know exactly how we like things. So, even though I'm not moved in yet, I can already see that this new place is going to be a little different than what I'm used to.

  It was important that I get this particular apartment. A modest corner unit with exposed brick in the living room, two decent sized bedrooms and a great view. I decided the easiest way would to get it would be to cut out the middle man. To accomplish that, I am now the brand-new owner of a seven floor, twenty-eight-unit, Center City, rental property.

  And best of all . . .

  I don't have to listen to Camden and Jade having sex half of the night.

  I can stock the fridge with whatever carnivorous snacks I want.

  And I'm going to be within walking distance of my latest fix . . . or rather my fixation.

  Her.

  Thirteen

  Sloan

  "Morning, Ms. Pearson."

  "Good morning, Mr. Stokes."

  Our sales division head, John Stokes, walks out of the elevator with his bike and complete cycling gear on. I admire that he's sixty-four years old and still rides his bike five miles to and from work every day, but he's also the last person I feel like seeing right now. Frankly, he's my boss's boss. I didn't even think the man knew my name.

  "So how are you adjusting to managing your own team?"

  According to my pitiful sales numbers, not so well.

  "I'm really enjoying the challenge, sir. Thanks for asking." I smile painfully.

  "How long have you been a manager in the department?"

  "A couple of months. Not that long."

  "Hmm . . ." He holds his chin as if he's in deep thought. "I spent a bit of time going over your numbers over the weekend, and while you're doing a decent enough job, I think there's definitely room for improvement."

  Could my luck get any worse? The division head picks my numbers to review out of all the teams in our department.

  "You're a hundred percent right, Mr. Stokes, but I'm not worried," I say with feigned confidence. "My team is young. Give us some time, and we'll get the numbers up."

  "Cocky, huh? I like that."

  "Not cocky . . . just confident, Mr. Stokes."

  "Even better." He smiles. "So Sloan, may I call you Sloan?"

  "Of course."

  "You show a lot of promise, but unfortunately we are a numbers driven department and potential doesn't make the stockholders happy. Results do. So I'd like to check in with you personally around the end of the quarter. See where your numbers are. Then we'll know how to proceed from there."

  "Sure, that sounds fair."

  "You took the day off yesterday, right?"

  Wow, he's definitely paying attention.

  "Because of this," I say referring to my face.

  "May I ask what happened?"

  While my scars are healing nicely, I still basically look like the bride of Frankenstein. People at work are trying to be polite about it, but I know they're talking about me. Especially because I haven't told anyone the truth about how it happened. In my opinion, it's really nobody's business.

  "Freak accident."

  "I see. Well, Sloan, I'm not going to beat around the bush. I'm thinking that I'd really like to see you match the numbers that Regan Pullson's team is bringing in by next quarter."

  A wave of nausea hits my stomach. He has to realize that he's asking me to perform an almost impossible feat. Regan's territory is larger and more established than mine. Two facts that she never lets me forget.

  "Um, okay," I say while holding back angry tears. “I’ll work on that.”

  "Make sure to book yourself on my schedule with Martha."

  "Will do, sir. Looking forward to it."

  Mr. Stokes turns to walk toward his office when he stops to speak to me once more.

  "And one more thing, Sloan."

  "Yes?"

  "I didn't see your name confirmed for the advanced sales training program."

  Crap.

  Every manager in the company has been strongly encouraged to enroll in the company's advanc
ed sales training program. An invitation-only program which is offered once a year and is held in a different city every year. Our company is global, so sales managers from all over the world attend. It's expected for me to enroll since I've newly been made a sales manager, and it's actually a privilege to be invited, but I dread the entire thing. Sitting in an auditorium and listening to panels of men speak on how innovation in pharmaceutical production is changing the world all day is not my idea of a good time.

  "I actually planned on confirming with Fern this week."

  Fern is my immediate supervisor and the person in charge of confirming my enrollment. I hadn't confirmed my participation with her yet, because I had a personal conflict with the date. The conflict being I didn't want to do the shit. I'm sure she couldn't wait to share my procrastination with Mr. Stokes, because although she puts up a good façade, it's obvious that she, as well as another woman in this division, namely Regan, do not have my back.

  "The training is always a good time, and you'll definitely learn a lot. I'm a keynote speaker on one of the goal setting panels this year. It'll be nice to have a few members of my team in the class."

  I'm not entirely sure what's happening, but the fact that the head of the sales department knows that my numbers suck, calls me out on them, and is double-checking to make sure that I attend the sales program tells me everything I need to know. I have to go if I want to keep my job. But I'm going to hate every minute of it.

  "Sounds awesome, Mr. Stokes. I'll be there."

  "There's a man in the lobby who I guarantee you just made me ovulate. If I'm pregnant by next month, you all will know the date of conception and who the father is."

  I almost spit out my cup of coffee from chuckling at the comments of our office receptionist, Gidget. She's a relatively new hire. Young and spunky, a little thick in the thighs, and someone I'm starting to have a serious girl crush on. She basically has no filter, and that's rare to find in the very corporate—boring—world of pharmaceuticals.

  "Who is he?" I ask. Always curious about whatever gossip she has to share for the day. Desperately wanting to think about anything but my own personal drama.

  "What are you two hens clucking about now?"

  Enter the company's resident hair flipper and ass kisser, Regan Pullson. Also known as the biggest passive aggressive bitch in the office and the woman who Mr. Stokes just threw in my face. Reagan and I have been at odds with each other since basically the first moment we met. There's just something about me that she doesn't like, and now that we both head our own team of sales reps it's getting even worse. Everything is a competition with her.

  "I haven't had enough coffee for her this morning," I mutter under my breath as Gidget chuckles at my comments. I knew almost immediately that Gidget and I would get along famously when she was hired. She totally gets me. "If she flips her hair one more effin' time."

  "I was telling Sloan here about the giant wet dream in the lobby," Gidget says to Regan. "He's so hot that I'm about to go to the bathroom and use the hand dryer to dry my thong out."

  I belly laugh again.

  This girl's a hoot.

  "Honestly." Regan rolls her eyes and turns her lips up with distaste. "You're so inappropriate, Gidget."

  "I try, thank you very much."

  Gidget curtsies facetiously.

  "Why are you even back here talking about him anyway? Isn't it your job to find out why he's here and who he's here to see?"

  "That's exactly why I am back here." Gidget grins and turns to point directly at me. "He's here to see you, Sloan."

  "Me?" I respond incredulously.

  "Yep, he specifically asked for you, and I just need to say this. If you're not seeing this guy romantically, then please tell him that I'm ready and available to have his babies. His big, strong, Viking babies. Tell him I'll be sure to raise them in the ways of his Viking gods."

  I can't help but laugh out loud this time.

  Gidget is certifiable.

  "Well now I have to take a look," Regan says. Which is not surprising. Now that she knows that the mystery man has asked specifically for me, all of a sudden, she needs to know who he is and what he looks like. As if it's a problem that a hot looking guy is asking for me instead of her. That's why I take great pleasure in the look on her face when she returns from the lobby.

  A look of a woman who just swallowed crow.

  "He's definitely here for you," she says dismissively.

  "And what's that supposed to mean?" I say. "Who does he work for?" I ask standing up and meticulously freshening up my red lip gloss in the reflection of my computer. It's the only bit of makeup I can actually apply considering that I have a large, ugly, gauze pad on one side of my face and a bluish eye.

  "I don't think by the looks of him that he works for anyone the three of us know," Regan says as she walks away. "He's definitely not in pharmaceuticals. Not legal ones anyway."

  I can't imagine the kind of person matching Regan's description who'd be here to see me. But as I get closer to the lobby, I smell my guest before I see him and realization sets in.

  I know him.

  My visitor is wearing a distinct woodsy, but clean musk and leather scent that smells expensive and unique only to him. And once I make my way around the corner of the hallway into the lobby, and verify who it is, I almost choke on my own saliva.

  He's massive, muscular, and standing against the wall in all black, stubble covering his strong jaw, his midnight kissed hair shorn low, with his tatted forearms crossed in front of him. It's only been a few days since I last saw him, but he's grown hotter if that's even possible. Even I have to admit, that if I didn't already know him, I'd climb him like a pole right in this entryway.

  But I do know him.

  And 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, but for me he's a nightmare.

  In the real world Cutter King is dangerous, arrogant, and entirely too smug. All excellent reasons why I'm not remotely interested in exploring anything physical with him; not to mention the fact that he alludes to getting inside of my panties almost every time I'm within six feet of him.

  Pervert.

  "Is everything okay with Elizabeth?" Is my passive aggressive way of asking him what the heck he's doing at my place of business unannounced and uninvited.

  "The baby's still in her belly as far as I know."

  "So then why are you standing in the middle of my lobby?"

  We now have an audience. At this point I should shove a bucket of buttered popcorn in Gidget's lap and a bag of Twizzlers in Regan's, because all four of their eyes are fixed on the two of us. Moving back and forth between us like a game of ping-pong.

  "I came by to check in on you, like I said I would, but guess who wasn't home in bed like a good girl?”

  "What are you talking about?" I ask defiantly.

  Cutter gives me a stern stare.

  "You know what I'm talking about. You're here at work when I specifically told you to take a few days off. Good thing for you I knew where to find you."

  Gidget giggles under her breath, and I'm quickly reminded that people are listening. People who are probably interpreting this conversation in the completely wrong way.

  "Can you go into my office for a moment, Mr. King? Third door on the left. I'll be there in a moment."

  "Of course, Miss Pearson," he says as he shamelessly winks at both Gidget and Regan before walking toward my office. "I'll be waiting patiently.”

  Fourteen

  Sloan

  I stand with my back flat against the wall a few feet down from my office door. I need a moment to collect myself. My one good cheek is flushed. My panties damp. Apparently, all Cutter needs to do is make a pop-up appearance in my life and my hor
mones go into overdrive. I become combative, flustered, and freaking horny which is a dangerous and potent brew. Of course the reason I feel this way could totally be because I haven't gotten laid in a really long time. In fact, I'm sure that's what's going on. So that's an easy fix.

  I need to make myself a good old-fashioned dick appointment.

  I take a few steps farther down the hallway toward the west elevator and start scrolling through the contact list on my cell phone, looking for an oldie but goodie. Someone that I can have a no strings attached night of carnal pleasure with, somebody that I'm still on good terms with, and a guy that will make me forget all about how ridiculously attracted I am to the man sitting in my office.

  Crap, that's a tall order.

  I text Elizabeth instead.

  Me: Talk me off the ledge.

  Elizabeth: Well good morning to you too.

  Me: I'm about to jump.

  Elizabeth: What are you talking about?

  Me: Wait a minute, I'm going to call you instead.

  "Hello?"

  "I need to get laid."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Some dick. The pipe. A little cock."

  "I'm sorry but I only have a vagina."

  "And he's here."

  "Who's where? What are you talking about? You sound like you've had five espresso shots too many."

  "I'm literally hiding out in the hallway at work, because Cutter King is sitting in my office taking up the entire room with his . . . freakin' dominant Viking energy."

  "Holy crap, he's popping up everywhere," she says. Her voice still husky with sleep. "And you like him."

  "No, I don't like him and wake up. What CEO in America sleeps past ten a.m."

  “A pregnant one. And yes you do like him. I haven't seen you act this flustered over a guy since Brandon Miller in Greek Mythology sophomore year."

  I can hear Roman's muffled voice saying something snarky in the background. Figures he's listening. It's guaranteed that every time I talk to Elizabeth, her fiancé is somewhere in the vicinity. Lurking. Just like freakin' Batman.