The King Brothers Boxed Set

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  "What is the dark knight saying? Doesn't he ever work?"

  "Nothing just–"

  There's some rustling in the background as if they're scuffling for the phone, and then all of a sudden, I can't hear Elizabeth. The phone's been muted. Then after that, I hear her voice fussing in the background and Roman's voice on the line.

  "Did you tell Cutter the douchebag's name?" he practically snarls through the phone.

  "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

  "I'm handling it. Don't tell Cutter shit."

  I feel a small twinge of disappointment. Cutter's not here to actually see me. He wants to find Dawn's boyfriend and probably finish what he started.

  "Listen, Roman, I appreciate the fact that you all want to protect me. I seriously do. But I had unofficial bodyguards protecting me when I was a kid and their "preventative measures" to keep me safe never ended well. I don't want any of your good intentions to ultimately create more bad blood between me and my sister. So for me that means dropping this whole thing and leaving her boyfriend alone."

  "Not a good choice."

  "It may not be, but it's my choice."

  "Then don't bother the mother of my baby with any shit in regard to him. If he bothers you from this point on, then you go somewhere else for a listening ear or a helping hand. She doesn't need that stress."

  "Did you listen to anything that I just said. Why do you have to be so nasty?"

  "I'm just looking out for my family. You should understand that."

  I'm trying very hard to find something likable about Bitsy's man, but as usual he makes it extremely difficult.

  "I would never do anything to jeopardize my best friend's pregnancy, and I certainly don't need you to tell me that."

  "Then I guess we're good."

  After the dark knight hands Elizabeth back the phone, she attempts getting off of the phone as quickly as she can, and now I feel like dog crap. She hates when the two of us disagree.

  "Hey, I'm wiped. Can I call you back later? I didn't get any sleep last night, because the baby decided to do somersaults until two a.m. I'll call you once I've totally woken up."

  "Bitsy, I'm–"

  "Listen to me, Sloan." She sighs with exasperation. "There's a big, sweet, man in your office who stopped by because he gives a damn. End of story. So pull up your big girl panties, go back in there, and talk to him. This anxiety ridden side of you is not attractive."

  Click

  "What . . . Helllllo?"

  Gah! She hung up on me.

  Pregnant women are such bitches.

  I go back to my office, and Cutter is exactly where I left him. Sitting at my desk playing Tetris on his phone. I stand at the doorway and take a moment to observe him for a moment.

  The confident way his strong, large body lounges at my desk. The broad width and careful slope of his shoulders. Everything about him oozes confidence, and strength, and sex. In fact I'd bet that he probably just had sex an hour before he came here. He reeks of it, and now (thank you very much) I've just pissed myself off.

  I enter the room and slam the door behind me.

  “Well hello again, beautiful." He greets me brightly.

  "What exactly are you doing?" I say with my hands firmly on my hips.

  "Looking at some dangerous curves wrapped up in a pretty blue dress. Turquoise, right? The color suits you."

  "I want you to stop dropping by my house and my job without an invitation. And stop flirting with my coworkers."

  "You call that back there with them flirting or what the two of us are doing right now."

  He stands up and takes a step toward me, which inevitably makes the room feel smaller. Yet I stand my ground.

  "We're not doing anything, and you winked at two women you don't even know while visiting another. Uninvited by the way. So yes, I believe that's called flirting."

  "I didn't know you were the jealous type, princess. Me likey." He flashes one of those ridiculous panty melting grins of his.

  "Listen, caveman King, I have work to do. You know that thing that some of us do during daylight hours. And just FYI, I'd have to actually care in order to be jealous. But I'll tell you what I actually do care about and that's keeping gainful employment. So I'm going to need you to leave now."

  "Not until we talk."

  "About what?"

  "Have you heard from your sister?"

  "Once," I lie.

  Actually I haven't heard a thing from Dawn, although admittedly I haven't reached out to her either. I've been pretty angry with her over the last few days, and I've been depending on the fact that if she was really in any sort of trouble, Marsha would have called me about it already. But I'm the older sister, and should be the bigger person, so I plan on checking on her soon.

  "Did you know she hasn't been on any social media in a while?"

  "No I didn't, and should I even bother asking how it is you know that?"

  "That's strange for a teenager don't you think?"

  I guess it is.

  "Did she say anything about the boyfriend when you talked to her?”

  Now I feel like a really bad sister.

  "I don't want to talk about this right now."

  "Why?"

  "Again, genius–" I wave around my hands in the air. "Because I'm at work."

  "So when do want to talk about it? Remember, I owe you dinner."

  "I don't want to talk about it at all, especially with you. I got into a disagreement with my kid sister's boyfriend. So what? Shit happens. And while I appreciate the help that you gave me that night, I need you to let this go, Cutter. Please. It's my business. Not yours. Not Roman's."

  Cutter walks behind me, purposefully sits back down at my desk, spreads his massive legs, and leans completely back in my chair. Making a show of it. Making it clear that he's not going anywhere until he's ready.

  "Who said anything about Roman." He says tight-jawed.

  "He seems to be almost as interested as you in finding the kid, but I wish you two would drop it. You're making a mountain out of a molehill. I just want to forget that it ever happened."

  "I can't drop it. If he's not out of your sister's life, that means he's not out of your life. You needed my help once and you may need it again."

  It's exhausting being attracted to such a relentless pain in the ass.

  "Seriously, Cutter, get out of my chair."

  He ignores my demand and instead squints his eyes carefully at me, examining every inch of my face, like he's looking specifically for something.

  "You're not sleeping."

  "What–"

  "Your eyes. They usually light up like Christmas morning, but today they're dull and dark. My guess is that you haven't been getting any sleep, because you're stressing about this. Probably stressing about other shit too. That's why I'm here. I'm going to fix all of that. Want to see that light back."

  How unfortunate that his assessment of me is spot on. I haven't had a good night's rest in days, yet I'm marveled by the sweet sentiment behind his words. It's almost as if he actually cares, but obviously he doesn't. He's just really good at knowing what to say to women.

  "Aren't you supposed to be some sort of ladies' man?"

  He shrugs his shoulders unrepentantly. "That's what they tell me."

  "Well here's a tip. What you just said about me looking like crap is not the best thing to say to a woman."

  "I didn't say you looked like crap. I said stressed."

  "Still not good."

  "I don't lie, princess. If you look stressed, then I'll tell you that you do. Not to be a dick, but to let you know that someone notices. Someone gives a shit. But how about this, the rest of you looks fucking phenomenal. In fact I bet I could help you relax a little right now, if you let me slip my hand inside the slit of that dress and–"

  "Quiet." I silence him while inadvertently squeezing my thighs together. The lower half of me clenching at just the thought of his hand coming anywhere close to between my legs. "Sto
p talking to me like I'm one of your minions at the club."

  "Minions?" He chuckles at the word. "Explain."

  "You know who I'm talking about. The girls who wait for you and follow you around Lotus like female dogs in heat."

  "That's a very specific description." He laughs. "I didn't think you noticed me at all at Lotus. You never say hello."

  "You and your minions are a little hard to miss."

  "So you think I'm talking to you the way I talk to them?"

  "Exactly."

  "And how is that?"

  "Inappropriately. Indecently. Arrogantly. Presumptuously. Egotistically. Shall I go on?"

  "Maybe they like how I talk to them."

  "Maybe they do, and that's fine for them, but not for me. You want us to be friends? You said I'm practically like family now that Elizabeth and Roman are getting married. Then treat me like a friend. Treat me like family. Not like some sort of sexual challenge to be surmounted."

  I chastise him with the most sanctimonious speech I can come up with off the top of my head, but at the same time can't help but be transfixed as Cutter sexily licks the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue.

  Dammit, he has the most interesting mouth. There's a small dent that leads from his nose to his top lip. A scar that the eye can't help but be drawn to. A mark that adds to his sexy. I want to kiss it.

  "So basically, you're saying that you want me to keep it strictly business."

  "Now you're catching on, your highness."

  "Then give me the name of the kid, and I'll be on my merry fucking way."

  "That's not happening."

  He leans even farther back in the chair with an insufferable smirk across his face.

  “Then I guess I'll just have to sit and wait until you change your mind.”

  I plunk down in my new ergonomic chair opposite Cutter. A small perk of my new office and position with the company. We both watch each other very carefully. Much like two stealth-like cats sizing each other up. I slide myself closer to the desk, place my palms flat on the desk, and look him square in his hypnotic whiskey colored irises.

  "What is your fucking deal?"

  His smile grows wider as Gidget knocks lightly on the door then pokes her head in to interrupt us. "Umm, excuse me."

  "Yes, Gidget!" I inadvertently bark at her.

  "Sorry, Sloan. I just wanted to know if your guest here needs anything. Coffee? A bottled water?"

  A blow job perhaps?

  I just shake my head as Gidget shamelessly gawks at Cutter. He must have the biggest ego on the planet the way women drool and lose all of their common sense when he's around. The way she's acting she's headed to minion land herself.

  "Uh, he's leaving in a minute, so he won't be needing anything."

  "He can speak for himself," Cutter says while flashing Gidget all of his pearly whites. "Water please, darlin'."

  I swear some sort of unidentifiable sound comes out of Gidget's body that resembles a cross between a squeal, a snort, and a chortle. I laugh to myself as I hang my head in shame for my entire gender.

  "Sure thing," she manages to eek out.

  "Close the door please, Gidget," I plead. Then I whip my head back around toward him. "Stop it."

  "Aww, why don't you admit that you're a little bit jealous? The only way this thing between us is going to work is if we're both brutally honest with each other."

  "Oh my God." I have to laugh to keep from screaming. "There is no thing."

  His eyes rake down my body.

  "Not yet."

  "It's such a complete and utter waste of your time to flirt with me."

  "There's no such thing as time wasted when I'm around you. I love every minute of it."

  Where is Gidget with that water.

  "Let me be frank. I have a type and you're not it."

  "Someone once told me that I was everyone's type."

  "Well someone lied to you."

  I look down at my hands when I say that, because I tend to look away when I'm lying straight through my teeth.

  "Sloan . . . look at me."

  I lift my head slowly. Unsure of whether or not he's seen through my ruse.

  "What's his name?" He stares gently into my eyes. "I'm not going to threaten him. I'm not going to hurt him. Just give me the name, and I'm out of here."

  "Why do you want to find him so badly?" I ask anxiously. "If I give you the name, then what are you going to do?"

  "Don't worry," he assures me with a small smile. "I'm not whoever or whatever terrible thing you think I am, and I guarantee you that I can be very charming with assholes. Much more charming than Roman will be. I just want to have another small chat with him, minus the kicking him in his ribs part, to make sure that the two of us are on the same page. That's it."

  "I haven't heard a peep out of him, and I don't think Dawn has either. I don't think you even need to bother. Like I said–"

  "Sloan, I kicked him in the ribs. Hard. He probably can't talk or at least doesn't want to right now. A punk kid like him is probably filled with rage and embarrassment over what I did, that I did it publicly, and the fact that I did it for you. I just want to make sure that I dot my i's and cross my t's. Calm him down a little."

  "Okay, but I'm trusting you."

  Something I don't do too often.

  "Understood."

  "His name is . . . Damien Hardwick."

  "Do you know where he lives?"

  "Now you're pushing it."

  "What's the point of the name if I can't find him."

  "I thought finding people was your specialty."

  "You're cute."

  He taps my nose.

  "Is that right."

  "I think you know how cute you are, Ms. Pearson."

  There's a knock at the door, and oh my God, it's Gidget again.

  "Hi there." She flashes nothing but teeth and gums. "Sorry to interrupt again, but I'm back with your water, Mister–"

  "Right . . . the water," I mumble to myself.

  "The name's King, darlin'. Don't forget it."

  Gidget starts to blush and while it was funny earlier, it isn't as funny now. It's starting to grate my nerves.

  "Here you go, Mr. King. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

  She makes sure to place an emphasis on the word anything.

  "No, this is great."

  Cutter twists open the plastic cap and chugs down the entire bottle in a few long swallows as we both shamelessly watch. I'm not really sure how he can make something as simple as drinking a bottle of spring water look totally pornographic but he does.

  After Gidget leaves to no doubt dry her thong out in the bathroom, Cutter and I finish up our conversation. Now it's his turn to lean forward on the desk and for the first time, I notice a tattoo on his left hand. I'm not sure how I've missed it in the past. An intricate king's crown that spans the width of his hand. Each tip of the crown inked on each of his fingers up to the first knuckle. I'm staring right at it when he asks me the most unusual question.

  "Do you believe in love, princess?"

  I almost laugh at the ludicrousness of the question.

  "What?"

  "It's a simple question."

  "You ask everybody questions like that?"

  "It's just a question. Not a proposition."

  "Fine. No, I don't think I do."

  "Why?"

  "Probably because I've never seen a good example of it."

  My parents have a terrible marriage.

  "I knew it."

  He taps his palms on top of the desk, then stands up like he just made some sort of great discovery.

  "You knew what?"

  "That you're totally my type."

  Cutter walks around to the other side of my desk. Because I'm still sitting, I can't help but turn around in my chair to see what he's going to do next. He's so tall that my head is dangerously close to his crotch.

  I reactively take a small breath and hold it.


  Still holding.

  He takes a hold of my chin with his thumb and pointer finger and raises my head up, holding it steady and meeting my gaze.

  "I don't believe in love either," he continues. "It makes things much simpler when both parties have no grand illusions of anything more happening."

  "Well, aren't we both the saddest," I say not quite loud enough for him to understand me completely.

  "You know you look fucking beautiful in this position. Low to the ground. Chin up. Eyes on me. I'd love to kiss you right now."

  I nearly choke on my own saliva as he bends down dangerously low to reach my mouth. He stops just a few millimeters from my lips, perhaps waiting to see if I'll protest, but I don't–so he continues on.

  His mouth is warm and hesitant at first. Testing me. Teasing me. Making me raise my head and adjust my neck just a little higher to make contact. Making me work for it. It's such a fucking turn on.

  His hand slides into my hair, cradling the uninjured side of my face, as his tongue slowly begins to move and curl inside of my mouth. He controls the tempo of the kiss. It isn't rushed. It's exploratory. In fact it's almost reverent. Like he's cherishing each and every moment. It's the most incredible kiss I've ever had in my life. And all I can think about, is that if he kisses like this, what else he must be able to do. To my body and worst of all . . . to my heart.

  I break the connection between us. Forcefully pushing my chair back with my butt and standing. I've made a big mistake allowing that kiss to happen.

  "I'm leaving," I say totally flustered.

  "This is your office," he says as his chest rumbles with an almost sinister laughter. "Where are you going?"

  "To call security," I deadpan as I try to gain back my composure.

  "Did you know your sarcastic sense of humor is one of the things I really like about you? You remind me a lot of myself."

  "So my theory is right then."

  "And what's that?" he asks while wiping some of my lip gloss off of his bottom lip.

  "That ultimately you'd like to fuck yourself."

  That comment makes Cutter laugh out loud with such a rich, resonant, rumble that the entire floor must be shaking, and the fact that I am responsible for it is something I oddly find gratifying.

  "I'll see you later," he says before I make my exit.

  I don't know if he intended that as a threat or a promise, but he says the casual farewell in a way that makes me think he knows something that I don't.