by Wild, Callie
She had seemed as swept away by the attraction between them as he was, but he didn’t believe there was such as being “too careful.” He wasn’t the type of man who allowed himself to be led around by his dick, and the sooner she realized that the better.
“I hope you weren’t looking for some sort of quid pro quo,” he finished with a raised brow.
“No, but I wouldn’t mind riding you until you can’t stand.” She met the challenge in his eyes with one of her own.
Damn, everything about this woman made him want to pull her back onto his lap and impale her on his still-raging hard-on.
“I don’t care how many strip clubs you own,” she said with a shrug. “That kind of stuff doesn’t influence me. Though I do think it’s shitty to sell pixie dust to kids.”
“No one under the age of eighteen is allowed into my clubs and pixie dust is legal outside Kingdom City limits,” he said with a shrug of his own. “It’s not my fault that some people can’t draw the line between recreational use and habitual abuse.”
He was sick of being blamed for the addicts that had popped up in the past years. Pixie dust had mild euphoric properties when used properly, and hundreds of thousands of people managed to use it recreationally without any ill effects.
“Some people can’t help themselves,” she said, her eyes showing a flash of anger. “They’re predisposed to be addicts.”
“One could say the same about chocolate cake. I suppose next I’ll be accused of contributing to obesity because I serve pizza and fried foods at my clubs.”
“Don’t be so flippant,” she said, brows drawing together. “Chocolate cake and pizza don’t have the potential to cause hallucinations or blackouts. Pixie dust ruins lives. Giving some people a single taste is like helping them flush their lives down the toilet.”
He met her hard look with one of his own. “It’s time people took responsibility for their own weaknesses instead of searching for a scapegoat.”
Kat opened her mouth to reply, but then bit her lip and dropped her eyes to the floor of the limo. “Fine. Maybe you’re right. But maybe you’re wrong. Let that sit on your conscience for awhile before you dismiss the possibility.”
“I’m certain my conscience will bear the strain.” He sighed, irritated, but glad that the conversation seemed to be having a calming effect on his cock.
They were almost to their destination and though he didn’t plan on meeting the press, he did have to speak with the other producers. It wouldn’t do to emerge from his limo looking like a man who’d had one too many lap dances.
He was trying to move away from that reputation, not toward it.
“Good for you.” She pressed her lips together in a way that made her narrow face seem even sharper.
“That’s an unattractive expression,” he said as the limo pulled to a stop. “You might want to rearrange your face before you meet the press.”
“I’d rather rearrange your face,” she grumbled under her breath before forcing a smile that definitely did not reach her eyes.
“I thought you wanted to ride me until I couldn’t stand,” he reminded her casually.
“I don’t have to like you to want to fuck you.” The door to the limo opened and she turned away from him, taking Matthew’s hand as he reached in to help her out onto the curb.
Serge watched Kat make her way through the gathering of reporters that had shown up for the first day of filming with a sour taste in his mouth. She’d been different in the car, more pleasant, not to mention a temptress of unparalleled proportions. But that didn’t mean he had to like her, or care whether she liked him.
She was right, fucking was fucking and it was best if feelings didn’t come into play. Hell, it would be best if nothing came into play. This could be a single encounter, simply a memory to add to the others he’d made in this limo, not the start of something more.
“A single taste.” He muttered the words as the driver pulled away.
What had she said about pixie dust users?
A single taste and they were hooked?
He had no desire to be hooked on Kat, but he had a feeling he no longer had a choice. He would be seeking her out in the near future. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and the fact that his erection issues were non-issues around Kat made him long for more time in her company, no matter how difficult she could be.
But maybe that was the attraction. Maybe the idea of taking their sparring to the sheets was sparking his interest.
Now there was a theory he couldn’t wait to put to the test.
CHAPTER FOUR
Serge
“Mr. Sokol, they’re waiting for you in the observation room.” One of the interns working on the project scurried across the concrete as Serge stepped out of the limo in the private underground parking lot.
There were only a handful of cars parked in the space, most of them the limos of the other producers. There would be no problem making his way to the meeting unobserved, but he’d planned his arrival so that would be the case.
“Thank you, Timothy,” Serge said with a smile, not missing the way the intern’s face lit up at having the boss remember his name.
Serge always remembered names. No matter how many nondisclosure forms the people working on this project had signed, he knew the best way to inspire loyalty was to remember names, give praise when praise was due, and make sure everyone from the biggest fish down to the most underpaid intern felt like an integral part of the team.
Unfortunately, he was now at the mercy of a woman who seemed to be beyond his control. Kat had buckled fairly quickly when he’d called her blackmail bluff, but he wasn’t certain she would keep his secret.
As he entered the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor, Serge wondered what would happen if she did tell the other contestants his true identity. Would he be inundated with gorgeous former queens wanting to improve their chances at victory by keeping the executive producer happy? Perhaps, but the idea held little appeal. He had beautiful women in his bed whenever he wanted them; he didn’t need to use or abuse his position.
Then why did he find it acceptable to consider taking Kat to his bed, when she could just be trying to seduce him into giving her what she wanted?
But for some reason, his gut didn’t buy that her actions were pure manipulation. She’d been too hungry, too eager and out of control. From what he’d read about her and his limited experience with her thus far, Kat Masterson hated being out of control. He didn’t know if she would be capable of such sensual abandon as a tactical move.
And even if she were hoping to gain from their relationship, it wouldn’t matter. Serge was too smart to let his business be influenced by who was enthralling him sexually at the moment. Too many men put pussy on a pedestal—he saw it every time he visited one of his clubs—and it wasn’t something he planned on allowing to happen to himself.
“Serge! You’re here. Took you long enough!” His friend and co-executive producer, Jerry, lifted an arm in greeting as Serge entered the glass room overlooking the studio floor. Four of the other money men stood nearby, sipping scotch and observing the ten beautiful women and former queens who had gathered for the first day of filming for Real-Life Rules to Catch a King.
“I was unavoidably detained,” Serge said with a smile.
“I bet you were. Interviewing the girls for the stripper show?” Jerry managed not to leer too overtly, which Serge knew was an accomplishment.
Jerry was a solid guy, but unfortunately one of the many men who didn’t have the presence of mind to keep their little head under the firm control of their bigger one. Jerry had fallen for more of the dancers at Serge’s clubs than he could count. No matter how many times Jerry was burned, he kept coming back for more. He was a sucker for a sad story and a beautiful pair of tits and no one could convince him that his true love wasn’t going to show up on stage in a white thong and glittery eye shadow.
“My assistant is sending out the last thr
ee contracts today,” Serge said, putting the subject to rest with a firm tone.
The idea for a second reality show focusing on girls who hoped to be headline dancers at Serge’s exotic dance clubs had been entirely Jerry’s idea. Serge still had reservations about the project. His main motivation for moving into television producing had been to create a new identity for himself and do away with the “bad boy” image that had made him a social pariah in polite Kingdom City society.
He didn’t mind being “unacceptable” himself—he actually found it amusing—but it would be difficult for his children to grow up in that shadow. Not that he had children, or a wife, or even a candidate for the position just yet, but he wasn’t getting any younger and he wanted to be a family man eventually.
It would be good to have his reputation improved before taking steps in that direction. He wasn’t sure using his dance clubs as the setting for his second producing venture was a good way to do that, but the concept had sparked even more interest among the money people than Catch a King. Everyone expected the show to be a huge success with the late-night crowd and earn the investors a great deal of money.
And money was good.
Serge was wealthy enough to retire and live comfortably for the rest of his life, but he had a hard time turning down a project that seemed to be a prize pig. When you grew up as poor as he had, you never quite believed that there would be enough money to last.
“That one is a stunner,” Jerry muttered, eyes directed down to the studio floor where a photographer was arranging the women for publicity shots before the actual filming began. “I can’t believe her husband was cheating on her. If I had a fine piece of ass like that at home, I’d be busting my ass to get back to her every night. Even if she is a psycho.” Jerry punched Serge lightly on the arm, but his gaze remained fixed on the tall redhead in the elegant suit.
Kat looked positively sweet as she posed next to two of the other women. Her arms were crossed at her chest, shoulders lifted slightly and nose wrinkled in an expression that could only be called cute. She was working the shoot like a pro, showing no sign of the surly hellcat who had stormed into his office.
Serge had to admit he was thrown by the transformation.
“Katarina Masterson? You think so?” he asked in a neutral tone, though he was surprised that his friend would find her attractive. Katarina wasn’t Jerry’s type. He usually went for blondes and subscribed to the belief that there was no such thing as “too big” when it came to a woman’s chest.
“I have a thing for redheads.” Jerry hummed appreciatively beneath his breath. “And those legs look like they’d be long enough to wrap around you twice.”
“She’s off-limits,” Serge said firmly, his voice giving only the slightest hint of how annoying he found Jerry’s comments. Rational or not, Kat had become off-limits for every man—every man, but him.
“I know. You’ve given me the lecture, but a guy can dream. She won’t be an employee forever.” Jerry winked before launching into an in-depth analysis of the relative “hotness” of each of the contestants.
Serge listened with half an ear, grunting a response when one seemed needed, while he followed Kat’s every move. She was a different woman than the spitfire who had made Matthew’s life hell for the past week. She was nice to the other women, laughed at the director’s jokes, and had made pals with half the production crew by the end of the first hour.
The change baffled him and raised more than a few questions.
Which was the real Katarina—the bitch, the vixen, or the charmer?
Employee or not, Serge intended to find out.
CHAPTER FIVE
Katarina
By the end of the day, Kat was exhausted but happier than she would have thought possible. She was going to be able to do this!
The other former queens were a decent bunch, but there wasn’t one that she considered a threat. Once the rules of the game had been explained and the first challenge put forth, Kat felt positive victory would be hers. Not only would she walk away with the impressively large cash prize, but she would be reintroduced to the Kingdom as a reformed woman intent on putting her best foot forward.
If she could pull off the revamping of her own image, there wouldn’t be a PR firm in the Kingdom that wouldn’t grovel to have her on their staff.
She was so confident of her success that she knew she had to stay away from Serge. She would see him on the set, of course, but she was going to do her best to make sure they were never alone together again.
At first, the fact that he desired her had seemed like a brilliant stroke of luck. She would never use sex to get what she wanted if she wasn’t attracted to the man, but if she was…
Well, why not exploit a mutual attraction? A man with his head in his pants was a man who could be led around by the nose. She knew that much from personal experience. It was how her late husband had been seduced by a girl young enough to be his granddaughter.
Too bad her own attraction wasn’t so easily managed. She wanted Serge and had craved the release he’d given her so badly that all her defenses had come tumbling down. Afterward, all she’d wanted to do was to curl up on his lap, snuggle into his chest, and thank him for giving her such profound pleasure. She’d wanted to drop the armor, put away the tough girl act, and give in to the temptation he offered.
She had wanted to trust again, to hope again.
“Fucking crazy,” she muttered as she changed into her workout clothes in the locker room at the gym.
She hadn’t cussed the entire afternoon. She had been sweet as pie and friendly and charming and all the rest of it. Poor Matthew had been teased mercilessly by the rest of the staff, none of whom could believe she was capable of being the terror he had told horror stories about for the past week.
Kat felt sorry for the kid. But if he hadn’t exposed her to situations that made her an emotional wreck, he wouldn’t have brought out the worst in her. From what Serge said, the show wasn’t looking for that kind of manipulation, and she believed him.
She believed him, this stranger she barely knew.
She must have finally lost her mind.
“Hi, Kat.” Molly, a pretty brunette without a mean bone in her body, greeted Kat with a smile as she headed out to the treadmills.
“Hi, Mol, how’s the shop?” Molly was the owner of Kat’s favorite lingerie shop, Secret Things, which always had the most luxurious selection of underclothes.
“So good! Can’t wait to have you come by. We’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” Kat said with a laugh. “And your seamless black thongs.”
“Girl, we’ve got those in five other colors now. You’ll have to come take a look. See you soon.” Molly gave a little wave, leaving Kat to set the speed on her machine and start off at an easy jog.
See there? Kat could be nice when she was allowed to be.
She had been responsible for the public relations campaigns of more kings, rock stars, and A-list actors than she could count on two hands. You didn’t work for those kinds of people unless you knew how to play well with others. Of course, you also had to have a tough side when it came time to convince people to see your client’s situation from your perspective.
But in the last few years, she had let her tough side become her only side. That’s why it had been so wonderful to let go with Serge, to let herself feel relaxed and safe for a few minutes. From the second Serge pulled her onto his lap, she had felt simultaneously more aroused and calmer than she had in years. The arousal had faded, but the calm had remained with her the entire afternoon, making it easy to walk into the first day of filming with an open mind.
But the fact that he’d made her go soft was why she had to avoid him. The last time she’d been in love, her heart had been broken and her control annihilated. She’d done horrible things, things that had landed her in the dungeon for five years and nearly killed a sixteen-year-old girl.
Love had turned Kat into a monster t
he first time around, and she couldn’t handle the idea of becoming that person again. She might not be a “good girl” all of the time, but she never wanted to get close to hurting anyone again, including herself.
“Do you do this every day?” a deep voice asked from beside her.
Shit. Think of the devil…
It was Serge, on the next treadmill over.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, with a scowl. Let him think she was an ugly old sourpuss, anything to keep him from getting his hands on her again.
“I was beginning to think I had imagined the pinch-faced shrew.” His smile was so sexy she wanted to leap onto his treadmill and beg him to fuck her against the console. “You were so lovely to observe today.”
“I’m nice to people who are nice to me,” she said as she upped the speed on her machine.
What was he doing here? She’d never seen him at her gym before. Had he followed her here after the filming?
The idea was both faintly creepy and incredibly exciting.
“I thought I was very nice to you.” His voice left no doubt as to what he was referring, making Kat’s nipples tighten against the stiff fabric of her sports bra. “And I am sincerely curious about your running habits,” he added after a few moments had passed with no sound except the steady fall of their footsteps as they jogged.
“I run almost every day. It helps me decompress,” she said, not wanting to admit that jogging was the way she worked out the sexual frustration that had tormented her for years.
She hadn’t touched a soul sexually the entire time she was in the dungeon, and when she had been released six months ago, she had been too consumed with trying to resurrect her career to be distracted by a man in her bed. Not to mention that the idea made her nervous. She’d never been able to screw for screwing’s sake, no matter how much she wanted to believe that she could. She always became emotionally involved and that was something she didn’t need while she was still so close to the edge.