High Stakes (The Kingdom Book 2)

by Groom, Nikki

  “Go on …”

  “You come back to me in one piece.”

  “I can’t promise that, but I’ll do my very best.”

  “Will you let Jack drive you to the boutique, please?” he asks hopefully.

  “Yes, and depending how I get along with these heels,” I kick one of my feet up behind me, “I might even call him to bring me home.”

  “That would be fine by me.” He looks over my shoulder. “You know what would also be fine by me?”

  “What?” I ask curiously.

  “If you kept those heels on for me, later.”

  His eyes sparkle, and that gold glint that I’m coming to love so much, flashes in my direction. I’ve never noticed a man’s eyes change color so often. I’ve seen a man’s eyes turn black with anger, too often. But Denham’s turn gold with lust, and shine brightly with happiness.

  “Now that, Mr. King, I can do.”

  After much distraction, I’m finally en route to Chique. Denham didn’t try to persuade me to change my mind again. But he did try and persuade me to be late, and I almost gave in. Almost. Being late on your first day at work would not make a good impression, and I want this job so badly that I’m not willing to jeopardize it for anything.

  Jack pulls up right outside the building, and I step out onto the sidewalk. The butterflies had started to flutter around a little when I left The Kingdom just a few minutes ago, and now they are in full flight. I’m nervous. It’s first day nerves mixed with excitement.

  When I approach the large glass doors, I see Beth coming toward me, pushing through the boutique with a frown. She flings the door open and pulls me to her. She cradles my head in her chest then pushes me away, holding me at arm’s length by my shoulders.

  “What are you doing here, young lady?”

  “Working,” I say with a smile, hoping to diffuse the worry that’s etched on her face.

  “You shouldn’t be here. You should be resting after everything that happened to you. Just wait until I get my hands on that man of yours.” She actually stomps her foot, and places her hands on her tiny waist.

  “I’m fine, really. Denham tried to tell me to stay off for another couple of days, but I really want to be here. Please …”

  “You’re not feeling faint, dizzy or remotely sick?”

  “Nope.”

  “And you don’t have cuts and bruises?”

  “No cuts, just a few faint bruises that are on their way out. I’m good. Really I am. If I spend one more day cooped up I’m going to go stir crazy. Let me work, Beth. Please …”

  She doesn’t answer straight away. She presses a finger to her lips in thought “You’re a girl after my own heart, you know that?”

  I just smile at her. She’s so good at being stern and portraying the hard heartless image, but it couldn’t actually be further from the truth.

  “Come on then,” she says sweeping up my hand in hers. “Let’s get you started. You wanna work … let’s work. But,” She stops and swings around in my direction, “if you feel faint, dizzy or unwell in any way at all, I want you to tell me, promise?”

  “Promise.” I nod.

  Beth takes me through to her office, which now doubles as mine too. We have desks opposite each other with everything I could ever need laid out neatly at my fingertips.

  “Now, before you start, I want to lay down some rules,” Beth states. “You have a question-Ask. Do not leave it and try and figure it out yourself. I don’t care how small or insignificant the question is, ask it. Little mistakes can cost a small fortune, and I don’t want to have to yell at you.”

  “Got it.”

  “I run a tight ship here, Arianna. No bitching. No backstabbing. We work as a team, and I want to know if there’s any problems.”

  I nod.

  “There’s one more thing. Have fun. This is a job I love, and if I’m right, and I’ve never been wrong …” her voice softens, “You’re going to love it too.” She finishes her sentence with a smile.

  She’s right. I think I am going to love it here.

  The morning goes by fast, in a blur of phone calls and files. I am introduced to designers via video call, and put in charge of a rather large expensive order with a top designer. I think my face actually lost all of its color when I was put through directly to the man himself. Just the mere mention of Beth or Chique has huge clout with these designers and I’m loving it. The hours fly by and before I know it, it’s two in the afternoon.

  “Arianna. Down time. Let’s eat,” Beth announces.

  She grabs her purse, and hands me mine. I follow her quick pace through the store, and out into the afternoon sun. It’s hot, and after being in the air conditioned office for most of the day so far, the wall of stifling, dry air hits me hard. Luckily we don’t have to go far as Beth leads me into a bistro just a few minutes down the road.

  We stay for a light lunch. Nothing extravagant, but delicious all the same. Conversation is light and professional and I’m grateful for that. Beth’s knowledge of the fashion world is astounding. She knows everyone, or should I say, everyone knows her. The professional her. She doesn’t divulge anything about her personal life, which has me intrigued. She doesn’t wear a wedding band, nor is there an indentation where she might have worn one once upon a time. I can’t imagine someone like her being on her own, but I don’t pry. If she wants to share, then she will do it in her own good time.

  We get back to the boutique within an hour, and the shop floor is busy. Beth’s employees are busy assisting and serving, and I smile in the knowledge that she trusts her staff to work hard when she’s not here.

  “Beth,” I call out to her as she strides ahead of me.

  “Yes, Arianna, dear?”

  “Would you mind if I observe out here for a while?”

  “Sure,” she shrugs, then creases her brow, “you don’t like it in the office with me?”

  “Oh, no. It’s not that. Not at all. It’s just that I’d like to see how things work. Get an idea of how everything functions as a whole,” I explain, fearing that I might have offended her.

  She laughs, “I was joking, Arianna. Of course you can. You can do as you please. As long as the work gets done, I don’t mind what you do.” She pauses, turning to look at me. “Have I worked you too hard today? You feeling okay?”

  “Oh no! Not at all. I’ve loved it, really I have. I mean, my head is spinning with everything I’ve learned but it’s great. I feel great.”

  “Good. Let’s just get those Jensen files sent over, and you can observe until your heart’s content.”

  I am introduced to Layla and Jo, Beth’s assistant managers. They’re sweet and very welcoming, and both make me laugh when they talk like they’re twins, and finish each other’s sentences. That’s what happens when you work closely with someone for a long time. I watch them go about their day, attentively assisting the most prestigious of the clients that come through the door, and overseeing the younger sales assistants with everything else.

  Layla takes me through some of the unique items they have in stock, gushing over Beth’s amazing contacts, and how she can manage to get her hands on some real beauties, with just a wink of her beautifully long lashes.

  We stand behind the counter to the left hand side, so we don’t disturb any transactions that need to take place. Layla pulls out some figures from one of the drawers, and starts to explain the workings of the way they control their stock and ordering process. We both have our heads down, until something prickles at my senses and I glance up. For some strange reason I shiver as my eyes search upwards across the leather clad torso in front of me. When I reach the person’s face, I can’t see past the bike helmet. This immediately strikes me as odd, as I would assume it’s common courtesy to remove your helmet when entering a store.

  I swallow hard, and although I can’t see the person’s eyes through the mirrored visor, I know he or she is looking at me. I quickly deduct that it is a male under the leather due to the buil
d and stance, but I could be wrong.

  The mystery biker holds out a hand containing a long, thin box wrapped in matte black paper, tied with a deep red bow, and passes it to me. I instinctively put my hand up to take it then pull away quickly.

  “Um, how do—” I stutter. The person pushes the box at me, and when I gingerly take it, they stride out of the glass doors, and kick off on a big, black bike that moves as fast as I can blink. I’m speechless. I don’t really know what happened there, and I have no idea why I’m so edgy.

  “Well,” Layla prompts, making me blink and come back to reality.

  “Aren’t ya going to open it and see?” Jo asks, bumping my shoulder.

  “What could it be?” Layla muses excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  “I think it’s jewelry.”

  “Yes! Yes, it could be a sparkling diamond necklace, and matching earrings, and a bracelet.”

  Their enthusiasm for what’s in the long, thin, beautifully wrapped box makes me a little excited, and I look at both of them with a perplexed smile before running my eyes down the length of it. There’s only one person it could be from. Only one person knows I started my new job today, and one person who knows exactly where I’d be. Denham.

  I place the box on the countertop in front of me, and pull the ends of the perfectly tied bow until it falls apart. I peel back the wrapping and wiggle the lid off.

  A rose.

  Nestled amongst black satin lining is a red, red rose.

  It’s beautiful. Perfect.

  There’s no note. I don’t need one.

  He makes my heart race. Always thinking about me.

  “Aww, I’m so jealous. My man never sends me things like that. Actually, he never sends me anything,” Jo whines.

  “Well, at least you have a man, I don’t even have a guy to send me things,” Layla responds by crossing her arms and huffing.

  “Babe, you’ll find a guy, there’s someone out there for everyone.”

  “Everyone,” she repeats. “Yeah, I suppose.”

  Their conversation continues, with the oohs and aahs, with the finishing of each other’s sentences, and as nice as they are, I can’t stand here and listen any longer.

  I take my rose, and go back to my office, leaving the girls twittering between themselves.

  The last two hours of the day pass quickly, and although I feel fine, my brain is exhausted. My eyes continually drift to the beautiful red flower sitting in the box on my desk, and I’m still in awe of how thoughtful Denham can be.

  “Time to go home, Arianna.”

  “Oh. Wow. Is that the time?”

  Beth nods, and thrusts my purse into my hand. “Have a large glass of wine and make that man of yours rub your ankles, and kiss your feet.”

  I laugh. “Thanks, Beth. And thanks for today. I’ve loved every minute of it.”

  “Oh, Arianna. Don’t thank me just yet. I went easy on you today. Wait until next week, you’ll be begging me to let you go home early.”

  I highly doubt that, but I know Beth would like to keep up her tough persona so I humor her. “Yes, boss.”

  “So, I’ll see you nine am sharp tomorrow?”

  Beth sits back at her desk, practically dismissing me and flicking through more paperwork.

  “Try and stop me,” I answer.

  I see her lips twitch into a half smile, even though her head is down, and she is seemingly engrossed in the figures on the paper in her hand. I pick up the box containing the rose and head on out.

  When I reach the glass doors, I see a familiar body leaning up against the wall, one foot propped against it, and his hand in his pocket. He turns to look at me as I open the door.

  “Well, hello there, beautiful,” Denham says, pulling me into his chest. “I missed you so bad today.”

  “I missed you too,” I mumble into his shirt. Although I missed him a little, it was good to not be thinking about him all day. It was good to be doing something productive with my brain, and not having to rely on someone else for the health of my mental wellbeing.

  With his face buried in the hair around my shoulder, he inhales, “I missed the smell of your hair.”

  “You did?” I question.

  “Yeah. I missed knowing you were upstairs.”

  “Well, I wasn’t far away.”

  “You didn’t miss me, did you?” he says tickling my waist with his fingertips.

  “Yes!” I giggle.

  “It’s okay. If you didn’t miss me it’s because you were enjoying your first day. Am I right?”

  “Yes, I loved my first day, and every spare minute I thought about you.”

  “Well, I thought about you every spare minute, too.”

  “I know.”

  “Oh, you know, do you?”

  “Yes, if you hadn’t thought about me, you wouldn’t have sent me this.” I wave the box in front of him and his hands fall away from my body.

  “What’s that?” he says with a frown.

  “What do you mean? It’s the rose you had delivered to me …” Panic bubbles at the bottom of my throat. “… didn’t you?”

  “No,” he says scraping his hand across his face. “I didn’t have anything delivered to you.”

  “Well, if you didn’t … then who?” I’m afraid to ask the question, but it comes out anyway. In fact, I think I’m more afraid of the answer.

  He looks at me with a mix of worry and anger, and grabs the box from me before flinging the door open, and striding back into the boutique. He marches straight into Beth’s office, calling her name and I follow right behind him, feeling that his reaction is a little over the top.

  “Beth …” He slams the box on my desk, making me jump.

  “Jesus, thought I was being raided with all the commotion you’re making. Where’s the emergency?” Beth emerges from behind the fire door where she was standing outside smoking. Huh, she didn’t seem like a smoker to me, and not once have I smelled cigarette smoke on her.

  “Do you still have CCTV running here?” Denham asks abruptly.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Give me today’s recording. Do you still run the feed outside?”

  “Yes, but …”

  “I want that too.”

  “Denham King, I don’t know what your problem is, or why you feel the need to be so rude, but I’m not one of your staff that you can order around. Now fill that chest of yours with a deep breath, and talk to me like an adult.”

  Denham does as she says, and I have to stop myself from grinning at the way Beth talks to him. It’s refreshing to see, and although I know he’s not being an asshole intentionally, Beth’s right, just because there’s something worrying him, doesn’t mean he has to lose his manners.

  Beth opens her bottom drawer, and pulls out three glasses and a bottle of brandy. She pours two fingers in each glass, and passes one to each of us. I sniff it, and pull my head away instantly, spirits have never been my favorite drink, but I’ll give it a shot.

  Denham knocks his back and Beth tops it up again for him. He’s not so hasty to drink it this time. He seats himself in my office chair opposite Beth, and places his elbows on the table, running his hands along the sides of his head, through his hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  “Good. Now tell me what the problem is.”

  “Did you see the person that delivered the rose to Arianna today?”

  “I caught a glimpse of a courier on a bike. Nothing out of the ordinary. Why?”

  “Well, I didn’t send that courier.”

  “Right, so Arianna has an admirer,” Beth says, raising one brow in question.

  I stand close, but watch the exchange as if they weren’t talking about me or as if I wasn’t even here.

  “That’s what I’m worried about. Did Ari tell you about her ex?”

  “Denham, I’m not Oprah fucking Winfrey. She’s here to do a job.”

  “Well, you saw the bruising the first day you met her. That was one
of the exes.”

  “Hang on here a minute,” I interrupt, “one of the exes? You make it sound like there’s a whole string of them. There are two exes. Two. In my whole life, just two,” I snap, resentful at the tone he used to describe my past.

  Denham winces and tries to find the words to dig himself out of this hole, but can’t seem to manage it.

  “Look, Denham. I know you’re worried,” my voice softens, “but, really, it could have been from anyone, maybe it was for one of the other girls and the delivery guy was mistaken?” I ask.

  “Well … I suppose …”

  “I mean, I thought it was from you after all of the others you sent, but—”

  “What did you just say?” he asks in a dangerously low voice.

  “Uh …” I look nervously between Denham and Beth “I thought …” oh shit …

  “You were sent others?” he asks, rising slowly from his chair.

  “Yes,” I answer in a small voice, that’s now starting to quiver. Not because he’s scaring me, it’s because it’s just dawned on me that all the others weren’t from him. The glass drops from my hand, and my purse follows, spilling the contents across the floor of the office.

  Then Denham is in front of me, holding my shoulders and crouching to look directly into my eyes “When? When, Arianna? And where are they?”

  “Every day,” I whisper. “Every day, a new rose would appear in my room. I thought …” The breath catches in my throat. “I-I thought they were from you.”

  “Fuck.” He curses under his breath, then roars, “Fuuuuck!”

  “Denham.” Beth tries the calm reasonable approach, but it’s clear that even she is worried about the reaction he’s had to this. Denham paces back and forth, a few steps at a time before turning in the opposite direction; he runs his hands through his hair and rubs the back of his neck in agitation, then turns to look in my direction.

  “Fucking hell, Arianna. You didn’t think to tell me? How am I supposed to keep you safe when you don’t tell me things?” He uses a tone that I’ve not been on the receiving end of before, and I don’t like it. In fact, it makes me want to cry. The whole situation makes me want to cry, and I press my lips together tight to hold it all in. I’m pretty sure I know who the roses are from, and the reason I know this, is that there isn’t anyone else that would do something so fucked up. It makes me feel sick to my stomach to think that I admired those seemingly innocent flowers, presuming they were a token of affection, and thoughtfulness. Well, it seems that someone put some thought into them, and I can’t bring myself to think about what that means from here on in.