King (Vegas Kings Book 2)

by McKenna James

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say, struggling to not undress her with my eyes.

  “Good. Here,” she says, passing over the papers she’d been reading when I walked in.

  “What’s this?”

  “A contract.”

  “Seriously?” I ask, eyebrows raised.

  She doesn’t answer. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She said she wants to do this professionally. Everything in the contract looks pretty standard, so I pick up the pen.

  “Before you sign that, I’m not the kind of person who half-asses things. If you want me to be your manager, even for a little while, I need you to give me complete control. What I say goes, and I don’t want any attitude or arguing.”

  “God, are you always this much of a hard-ass?”

  “Yes,” she says, unflinching.

  “Good, that’s what I need in a manager,” I say, signing in a quick flourish.

  “Okay, good. Great. Let’s go down to the stage. The tech guys are waiting to talk to us about the kind of light and sound set-up you’ll need.”

  She pushes back from the desk and reaches under it to fetch her shoes. Why does watching her feet slip into them turn me on? It feels like such a private, intimate part of her life that most people don’t get to see, and she doesn’t think twice about doing it in front of me.

  I let her lead the way. The pencil skirt she’s wearing is doing incredible things to her ass, and I nearly fall over myself a couple of times because I can’t tear my eyes away.

  “Would you stop staring?” she hisses once we’re in the elevator.

  “Will you stop being so damn hot?” I counter, standing too close. My hands are itching to touch her, but she takes a step to the side.

  “Don’t be weird. There are cameras in here,” she adds under her breath.

  Of course.

  It’s a casino—there are cameras everywhere. And it’s Jack’s casino, so he’ll have access to them all.

  I shove my hands in my pockets and grit my teeth until we hit the main floor.

  She takes me to the booth where the lighting and sound operators are waiting, and it’s quickly apparent that my presence at this meeting is superfluous. Piper occasionally asks for my input on something, but it’s obvious it’s only a courtesy. She’s in command of the situation, using terms and phrases I never would’ve expected to come out of her mouth.

  She really knows her stuff.

  It probably shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. I always figured Piper has a job here because she’s Jack’s sister. I guess I never considered she might actually be good at her job.

  Sometimes it’s hard to remember she’s not the annoying kid sister who hangs around when we don’t want her. Even when I do remember that, normally I only see her as a woman I want to take to bed. But seeing her in her element, watching her own this, is giving me a whole new perspective of Piper.

  I might have underestimated her.

  I won’t be making that mistake again. It was stupid to make it in the first place; she’s tough as nails and doesn’t take any shit from anyone. Never has.

  And it makes me want to push her buttons more.

  “Okay, next stop is wardrobe,” she says, waving for me to follow.

  We make it three steps out the door when I hear, “Mr. Dorsey?”

  The sound guy is standing behind us, looking nervous as his eyes dart between me and Piper.

  “Um … I know you probably get this all the time, but I’m a big fan of yours, and—”

  “You want me to sign something?”

  His eyes get bigger, and he nods hesitantly. “If you don’t mind…?”

  “Caleb, this is highly inappropriate—” Piper starts, but she stops when I shake my head.

  “No, no, it’s fine. Whatcha got?”

  Caleb produces a pair of big over-the-ear headphones and a silver sharpie. Probably didn’t have anything else laying around and didn’t want to miss his chance. I don’t mind; it’s a lot better than being asked to sign someone’s body.

  Once he’s back in the booth, grinning ear to ear, Piper blows out a sigh.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know, but I’m not that much of a diva. It took me thirty seconds.”

  She’s still frowning, but she doesn’t say anything else on the way to the costuming department.

  “Linnea? King is here for his measurements,” Piper says as we walk into the big room full of racks of costumes and a long row of sewing machines. It’s not until we’re past the first racks that we see the absolute chaos of about thirty half-naked women hanging out, talking and laughing while they wait their turn with the costumer.

  “What is going on here?” Piper asks, scowling.

  The woman with the measuring tape—Linnea, I’m guessing—looks up from a girl’s bust, sweat on her brow, her curly hair turned to frizz.

  “The new director for Stage 3 wants all new costumes for the chorus line, and no one’s measurements are accurate.”

  “But King—”

  “Will have to wait,” Linnea cuts her off.

  I’ve never seen Piper shut up so quick. I wonder if Linnea could teach me that superpower.

  “Unless you want to do it yourself,” Linnea adds. “There’s a form over there; fill it all out, and I can pass it off to the seamstresses.”

  Piper looks like she’s debating it for a minute—it’s the same look she had when I gave her the key to my room. The look that says she really wants something, but she’s torn. This time, I think what she wants is to stick to her schedule, even if it means getting up close and personal with me.

  “Fine,” she groans, waving at me. “Come over here.”

  As I step through the crowd of chorus girls, a murmur rises up and ripples through them. It only takes one person to recognize me, but plenty of them do. Soon, I have flirty smiles and eyelashes batting at me from all directions, giggles coming along with not-so-subtle posing and wiggling.

  Piper grabs my arm and yanks me along with her, stalking through the girls with a murderous gleam in her eyes that makes them scurry away.

  Is she jealous?

  That’s going to be fun.

  “Could you please try to focus?” she says through gritted teeth.

  “Mm, what do you want me to focus on?” I ask, biting my lip as my eyes travel down her body.

  “Not being a pain in my ass, for starters?”

  “No can do, Piperino,” I tease. “It’s way too fun to push your buttons.”

  She glares at me and pulls the measuring tape too tight. “You agreed there would be no button-pushing,” she says, scribbling down a number on the costumer’s form. When she comes in for the next measurement, she’s standing so close that her breasts would be brushing against me if she took deeper breaths. As it is, her breathing is quick and shallow, her cheeks a little flushed.

  She knows how close she is to me too.

  “But, Piper,” I protest, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “You enjoyed my button-pressing so much last time.”

  I still can’t believe there is a ‘last time’ with Piper. She’s been off-limits as long as I’ve been friends with Jack. Off-limits and always annoyed with me. I never could’ve dreamed something would actually happen between us.

  Until I heard her tell Jack’s girlfriend about the crush she has on me.

  Knowing the feeling was mutual did something to me. Some combination of reciprocal attraction and my post-show high pushed me into doing something I never should have. I don’t know what came over me when I decided to give her my room key, but I fully expected her to brush me off.

  When she showed up at my door in her slinky silver dress, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

  Normally, my post-show flings are forgettable. The adrenaline of being on stage makes me take whoever’s willing, and I don’t typically care to learn much about them, or even remember their names.

  But Piper’s different. I remember everything about the night we
spent together—every moan, every gasp, every ‘oh God, King’ that came out of her mouth. It’s seared into my memory for all eternity.

  And I’m desperate for another hit.

  “Be that as it may, we agreed we were never going to talk about it again, and if you want me to be your manager, you’ll respect that.”

  As she’s saying that, she’s measuring my inseam, her hand dangerously close to my crotch.

  “You’re really going to say that to me while you’re fondling my junk?”

  Pain. I gasp, white hot pain radiating from my balls as she squeezes them tight. Way too tight.

  “I’m sorry; what was that?”

  “Nothing,” I wheeze.

  “Are you going to let me do my job without being an insufferable prick?” she asks, keeping that vise grip on my family jewels.

  I nod quickly. “Yes, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s better,” she says, releasing the boys. I let out a long breath, the pain starting to fade.

  I underestimated her again, damn it.

  She’s right, though. I need her to be my manager, and the only way that’s going to happen is if I play by her rules.

  It might kill me, but I have to try.

  I don’t trust myself to carry on a conversation with her and behave, and honestly, Piper doesn’t seem like she’s in much of a chatting mood, so I keep my mouth shut and try to think of backgammon while her hands are all over my body.

  It mostly works.

  Either that, or the fact that my balls are still throbbing from her death grip. Not exactly conducive to producing an erection, but that’s probably for the best right now.

  By the time she drops off the form with Linnea, the number of chorus girls has decreased, and the stressed costumer actually takes a moment to pause, brushing her hair off her forehead with a sigh.

  “Thanks, boss. Sorry I snapped at you. That new director is just… He just makes me so—”

  “Hey, I get it,” Piper says, squeezing her shoulder. “It’s not easy to work with someone who knows how to push all your buttons.”

  She doesn’t look at me, but I feel the heat in those words anyway.

  “Have you had lunch?” she asks. “I’m always testier when I haven’t eaten. What do you want? My treat.”

  As we’re leaving the costume department, Piper looks over at me.

  “You want to grab a burger?”

  It catches me off-guard, but I’m quick to recover and jump on the opportunity.

  “Yeah, sounds good,” I answer, still worrying about what’s going to come out of my mouth if I’m not careful with every word.

  “I want to talk about your social media presence, or lack thereof. We can hire someone to handle it, but I want to make sure we’re on the same page as far as the image you’re projecting…”

  Once Piper gets started talking business, there’s no stopping her. She’s talking about the different options, whether we want to feed some information about my personal life into the posts—and whether those be real or manufactured ‘personal moments’—or keep it strictly promotional.

  It’s a lot to take in, so I let her talk, awed by how much thought she’s already put into this.

  She makes Vince look like even more of an idiot than he already is; I always thought he was a decent manager, maybe not the best, but one who had been fair and loyal to me. Now, seeing how Piper is on top of everything, going above and beyond, makes me wonder what the hell I’ve been paying Vince for all these years.

  If things were different, I’d ask her to be my manager full-time. I’d probably have to fight Jack for her, though. If I were him, she’s exactly who I’d want in her position—smart, capable, and too dedicated for her own good. He’d be a fool to let her go.

  We end up at one of the restaurants in The Grandiose, and the first thing Piper does is order Linnea’s lunch and has it sent down to her. I’m trying to distract myself with the menu when she joins me at the booth.

  “What looks good?” she asks, though she doesn’t reach for a menu.

  I shrug, biting my tongue. Is she trying to goad me into hitting on her?

  “Probably just go with the classic—bacon cheeseburger and fries.”

  “Get the curlies, not the crinkles,” she says, nodding.

  “Obviously.”

  “And you’ll want to try the ranch dressing. They make it from scratch here.”

  “You want to order for me?” I tease, closing the menu on the table.

  “I can,” she says, lips turning up into a flirty smile. “Seeing as I’m already in charge of every other aspect of your life for the next few weeks.”

  I hold my hands up. “By all means. God knows I haven’t been doing great with it.”

  Her smile slips. “I wouldn’t say that. You seem to be doing pretty all right for yourself.”

  “There have been a few highlights,” I admit, letting my gaze linger on her too long.

  She shifts in her seat, catching the eye of our waiter as he approaches.

  After we order—or rather, she orders for us both—she’s back to business, talking about my schedule and my image, the trajectory of my career, even though she’s not going to be involved in it long.

  She can talk about it all she wants. I could listen to her all day.

  But Piper doesn’t know the meaning of slowing down. She wolfs down her lunch between rattling off her ideas, and just like that, our lunch is over.

  “I have a billion things to do, but I don’t think I need you for anything else,” she says. “Enjoy your freedom.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I say, submissive as can be. “I look forward to working with you.”

  Piper looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “You as well,” she says, stiff and a little confused.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she’s disappointed I’m not hitting on her. Maybe she likes admonishing me and acting like she doesn’t want the attention.

  She’s a smart woman. It won’t take her long to realize that playing hard to get won’t work with me.

  I may not be able to use my usual tricks with Piper, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up on her. Not by a long shot.

  King Dorsey doesn’t give up, and he always gets the girl. She just doesn’t know it yet.

  Chapter 5

  Piper

  “You know, I’ve been going back and forth on it, but I think Live Wave would make a better encore than The Crash. Less of a downer,” I say between bites of greasy lo mein.

  King looks up from his stir-fry, tilts his head to one side, then nods while he’s thinking it over.

  “Yeah, that’s not a bad point, but The Crash is one of my first hits. Not playing it at all would piss off too many people.”

  “Close out the first half of the set with it. Then come back in strong with Buried Fusion.”

  He raises his brows. “You’ve really done your homework, haven’t you?”

  I stuff my chopsticks back in my mouth instead of answering. There wasn’t any homework for me to do; I’ve always listened to King’s music. I’ve been a fan ever since I first heard him play at his middle school talent show. I’ve bought every album and been to more shows than I’d ever admit to him.

  It’s been a long day of planning every detail of his show, but to King’s credit, he’s been completely professional about everything.

  It’s kind of driving me crazy.

  I’m used to his inappropriate comments and constant flirting. I keep bracing myself for it, but it never comes, like a sneeze that’s stuck. I just want to get it out of my system.

  But he’s chosen now to be the perfect gentleman. We’re together alone in my office, long after everyone else has left for the day, eating Chinese food with our feet up.

  I’m not sure I’ll ever understand him.

  My phone pings, and I nearly spit out my noodles.

  “Holy shit.”

  “What?” he asks, sitting forward, one foot on the carpet. />
  I jump up and hurry around the desk, holding my phone out. He’s gotta see this for himself.

  “Your new account already has two million followers.”

  He jumps up.

  “Holy shit.”

  “That’s what I said,” I laughed. “Told you, you needed a social media presence. And after that interview you did this morning with KZFA, it looks pretty likely that you’re going to sell out when ticket sales start at nine. They said they’ll replay the interview tomorrow morning, and I got them to agree to play your new single six times a day for the duration of your engagement here.”

  “You’re incredible,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Even I’m a little impressed with how much I’ve managed to accomplish in such a short time, but I still immediately roll my eyes at him.

  “Don’t flatter me, King. I’m just doing my job.”

  “I’m not flattering you, Piper,” he says, his tone serious. “I’m giving you the acknowledgment you deserve because you’ve been working your ass off at this and you didn’t even want to deal with any of it in the first place. Most people would just write me off and do a shitty job to spite me, but not you. I don’t think you could do something poorly if you tried, and that makes you incredible.”

  There’s a warm firmness in his voice, and his eyes are hard and soft to match. When did he get so close to me? He’s standing so close I can smell him, and I’m too tired to push back against the memories that smell elicits. Suddenly I remember how good his arms felt around me, how his calloused fingers left goose bumps all over my body, the way his tongue made me see stars…

  That same electricity is still here between us, crackling, as energetic as it’s ever been. But after all of those amazing things he just said to me, this time, I’m powerless to resist the pull.

  This time, I’m going to stop fighting it.

  King senses the shift, his eyes searching mine for a protest before he leans in.

  My only protest is that he’s taking too long. I meet him halfway, and for a split second, I think I’ve made a horrible mistake. That initial touch is too soft, awkward, and unsure. It feels wrong.

  But that’s only until King catches up. Then he’s pulling me closer, the heat and intensity I remember flooding back, all our pent-up longing erupting at once.