The Dark Side of Kingsley: A Billionaire Romance

by Skylar West

  "Sure, yeah, I can do that; we can go to that after-hours place and get into trouble."

  She laughed. "Trouble sounds good to me, later."

  Danica hustled up to the stage for their third and final set. I continued to order one martini after the other. A part of my brain registered that Kingsley was watching me and probably keeping tabs of how many drinks I'd ordered. Why did he care?

  By the time Danica was done and ready to leave King's Castle, I knew I was hammered, but I didn't care. I sure as heck was not going to go home to ibuprofen and bed. We stumbled out to a cab and headed to Strawberry's, my favorite after-hours club.

  Danica hooked us up with drinks, while I found a table. Then we joined the grooving, throbbing crowd of dancers on the crowded dance floor. I found myself dirty dancing with a guy who was a decent dancer. He was cute, too, until the song ended and he followed me back to our table.

  "Listen, thanks for the dance, but I'm not interested in partying with you," I slurred. He seemed pissed, but he backed off, until fifteen minutes later, when I found myself being slammed into a wall on my way to the bathroom. It was the cute guy from the dance floor. He must have been watching for an opportunity to get me alone.

  "I said I'm not interested, now back off." To accent my meaning, I attempted to push him off of me. My attempts were feeble at best and seemed to encourage him.

  "Oh, I think you're interested," he smirked as he leaned in to kiss me. I put my hand up in front of my face before his lips could land on mine and attempted another shove.

  "Come on, sweetheart, give me a taste of the goods."

  "I said no." I tried to move around him. He grabbed my arms and pinned them above my head while pressing one of his knees between my legs.

  "Let me go, asshole!"

  I was starting to panic, fighting as hard as I could when, suddenly, Mr. Cute slumped to the floor. Kingsley stood over the guy and punched him a few times, I guess to make sure he'd knocked him out.

  "Are you all right, Katarina?"

  I tried nodding, but my chin dropped to my chest, and I clenched my eyes shut, trying to get a handle on my emotions. "I-I, don't feel well, actually, um, could you tell Danica I went home, please?"

  I was shaking badly and felt suddenly sober, despite having enough booze in me to take down a horse. So, in addition to feeling scared and shaky, I felt unstable and suddenly awkward. I pushed away from the wall, but without its solid surface behind me, I tilted toward the earth.

  Kingsley caught me before I crashed to the floor, picking me up in his strong arms.

  "Don't worry; I'll get you home."

  I wanted to ask how, but I seemed incapable of speech, my address eluding me, never mind directions. Kingsley felt so strong and warm, I passed out on the way to his car, and when I woke up, I was in my apartment. Kingsley was taking off my shoes.

  "What happened?" I slurred.

  "Nothing to worry about, Katarina. Now be a good girl and crawl into bed."

  A good girl? Who did he think he was? I could be any kind of girl or woman I chose. But instead of taking him to task on his words, I acted the good girl. With nothing on but my G-string and matching lacy bra, I climbed under the covers.

  I heard some movement in the kitchen, and then Kingsley was back with water and what I assumed was ibuprofen. I should have been afraid. I didn't know this guy at all, and I was helpless if he tried anything. But as I was past the point of controlling the scene that was playing out, I went with it.

  He put the pills in my mouth and tipped the water back for me until I'd had enough and flopped back down onto my pillow. I heard him rummaging around, and then I was out like a light.

  When I came to, the sun was peeking through my blinds. I rolled over and saw water, pills, and flowers beside my bed along with a note. I stared at the ceiling, trying to remember what happened last night and how I'd gotten home.

  I kept coming up blank, so I picked up the note, hoping for a clue.

  Katarina, I hope you are feeling better today, I have set us a luncheon date at 1:00 at Ceilo's. Affectionately, King. My bleary eyes looked at the clock; it read 10:30. I could make this date, but did I want to?

  Last night was coming back in bits and pieces. Kingsley Deveraux, didn't I decide he was dangerous and to stay as far away from him as possible? The hallway scene at the club paraded through my foggy brain. He'd rescued me from that loser who couldn't take no for an answer.

  I sighed. I guess I could spare one luncheon for my rescuer. Maybe it would help strengthen my resolve for the evening. I was having dinner with my parents and their respective dates for the evening. Dates? What a laugh, more like robotic toys who did whatever they said. The partners frequently changed, so many times, in fact, I'd lost count.

  I had tried getting out of it, but it was my annual sucking up dinner to keep the money flowing into my bank account. I'm twenty-three years old and haven't done anything of value with my life yet. I didn't know what I wanted to do, or which direction I wanted to go, and the few times I thought I did, things didn't work out, and I'd bail.

  So, to keep me on my toes, my parents made this annual dinner to find out what I was up to and what my plans were. Hell, I didn't know my plans, let alone my future, but I had to make up something. That was part of needing to see Danica so badly last night.

  She and my childhood bestie, Ethan, were the only two who knew that my wealthy, successful, power parents everyone saw in the tabloids were total assholes in private. I worked hard to keep myself out of the tabloids as much as possible. The last thing I wanted was my parents knowing anything other than the necessary about my life.

  Meeting with Kingsley for lunch was an event I wished to keep out of the tabloids. He attracted as much news as my parents and was often represented in the same light. I had no intention of dating someone exactly like my father, regardless of how attractive I found him.

  Chapter 3

  Kingsley

  I was curious; I couldn't deny that little Kate made my pulse race. She was not lost so much as well hidden behind a facade of cold aloofness. She must have learned a long time ago to insulate herself and keep everyone at bay. I planned on breaking through that.

  The moment we'd shared at my table in the club had been a test, and one she had passed with flying colors. The paparazzi always tried to get into King's Castle, but they never did. Having failed to witness Kate's wild night on the dance floor would keep her daring dirty dancing hidden from the public.

  What had happened at Strawberry's, I couldn't say, I was just glad I'd followed my gut instinct and kept an eye on her. Kate was either incredibly stupid or too drunk to care that dirty dancing with a guy often leads to precisely the type of incident I'd found her in.

  The guy proved he was a douche bag when he wouldn't take no for an answer. I hate guys who take liberties; non-consensual, that equals wrong in my book. I always have permission, when working with a submissive, and a detailed contract in place. Protecting myself and my family is paramount, and although wealth has its privileges, it also has pitfalls.

  I've met many women who have been denied consensual sex, many women who have been taken advantage of in ways they shouldn't have been, used for dark purposes. They are denied sex that can free them up inside. I felt terrible for those women to a degree, their brokenness overriding their natural inclinations.

  To go with any alpha because a part of them so desperately needs to be taken care of, I was determined not to let Kate become one of those women. Why? The verdict was still out on that except to say I felt drawn to her, I wanted her, but I also wanted to see her fully in charge of herself, which, for sure, she wasn't currently.

  She was out of her mind hammered last night; people did that for a reason. She was evading or running from something, and I planned on fishing it from her at lunch. Ceilo's was another business of mine. When the owner, a friend of mine, had mentioned he would have to sell or risk losing everything, I had purchased the restaurant from him and
rebranded, creating a high-end, wine pairing bistro.

  I am partnered with many winegrowers in Napa Valley, so getting my hands on a selection of rare blends that I could offer by the glass had turned Ceilo's into a highly sought-after venue. It was not a secret that I owned it, but I didn't advertise it, either. I liked my projects to gain traction on their own merit.

  I arrived early and met with my manager, Max. After going over the books and the month's events, I spoke with my plucky hostess, Kimberley. I am a man who prides himself on choosing my staff well. But finding Kimberley had been a fluke. She had applied for the job, and I'd almost turned her down because of her lack of experience.

  I gave her one night to audition, and after watching her in action, I gave her the full-time day position. She was a beautiful blend of approachability and iron. One couldn't manipulate her, no matter how rich or pushy the patron. And she treated everyone like gold and could resolve any issue with complete satisfaction. I paid her well to remain with me.

  When I arrived, I explained what I wanted for luncheon with Kate, and Kimberley went to work setting that up for me. I sat at my preferred table, the back corner, just as Kate walked through the door. She looked good, all traces of her drunken indulgence gone. Being twenty-three had its benefits. I'd noticed, when I hit thirty, despite being in great shape, it would take me a while to recover from a bender like the one she'd had.

  But as I nearly never let myself get into that state, I had nothing to worry about. I liked control, and I liked myself in control. Kate was a different creature altogether. She couldn't handle herself and didn't want to, so she got hammered.

  She moved toward our table with Kimberly, and I got a good look at her in the daylight. Kate had amazing dancer legs and an hourglass figure. I could see in the light that she was a caramel blonde, but that wasn't her natural color. What got me were her eyes; they were enormous in her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were a beautiful sapphire blue that reflected both innocence and reservation.

  I stood and welcomed her by taking her hand and kissing the back of it. She blushed but said nothing as she sat down in her seat.

  "You would never guess the type of night you had by how you are looking today, Kate."

  Not a compliment but not an insult, either. In response to my words, Kate blushed, and her eyes hardened slightly. I could tell she wasn't sure where I was going with this, but the shift in her body told me she was ready for battle if need be.

  "Thank you for seeing me home and for the bedside gifts." She glanced around the room, taking in her surroundings.

  "I've never been here, but I've heard about this place, known for their wine pairings? I'm looking forward to trying some, or several." She laughed as she sat back.

  "Oh? Any particular reason you feel the need for several?"

  Her eyes hardened again, "Yes, but that is none of your business, Mr. Deveraux. Please don't think this is anything but what it is; me, granting your lunch request as my thank you for your assistance last night. It took some time this morning, but eventually, it all came back to me. I'm grateful for your help; that is all."

  Her words and her eyes were speaking two different languages. Her message was rebuking any further connection between us. But her eyes were roaming up and down, drinking me in, and she liked what she saw. I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. I made small circles on her palm with my thumb.

  She physically relaxed, but she stayed very alert. She reminded me of a deer about to take flight. Indeed, Kate's entire personality was reminiscent of that very animal and its self-preservation tactics. I wondered if she'd ever felt safe enough to be close to anyone.

  "I saw in today's news that your parents are in town. Is that why you were so willing to drown yourself in alcohol last night? Is seeing your parents so difficult, you need to get loaded to work up the courage?"

  She startled and sucked in her breath; her eyes, which had been shuttered, flew wide. I had hit the nail on the head, but there was no way she would admit it that easily. "Before you answer that, I want to suggest you take me with you when you go to see them."

  Her face went through a series of transformations, finally ending with curiosity. "First of all, I don't know how you know I'm meeting with my parents tonight, and secondly, I barely know you. Why in the world would I take you?"

  She looked slightly put out and annoyed, but still, the more compelling emotion she displayed was curiosity. "Because, you need someone with you who is equal to them in wealth and higher than they are in social standing. That way, they won't pick on you."

  For the second time in minutes, a look of utter surprise dominated her adorable face. And again, she quickly shuttered her eyes. What she didn't realize is that in trying to cover her reactions to my words, she was giving herself away. I had nailed it again, and she knew I knew.

  "Let's say I agree; it won't be pretty, Kingsley. This is an annual meeting to check in on me and see if I'm still worth their financial generosity. If I don't look like I have it all together, they will cut me off. And well, the truth is I've been rich my entire life, I'm not prepared to give up the silver spoon, so I go, and I lie, and I endure dinner with their flavor of the month and listen to them prattle on about me wasting my life."

  "You are."

  "Excuse me? I'm what?"

  "Wasting your life, Kate, but I can fix that."

  She stood abruptly, her expression changing from maudlin to fury. I found her thrilling to observe. When she didn't hear what she wanted to hear, she ran away. That is why no one has ever gotten close and why her beautiful submissive self had not yet been discovered.

  She pushed back her chair and stood up, glaring down at me. "You're no better than they are. I think I'll handle my parents scolding disapproval of me on my own, thanks."

  "Sit down."

  Kate hesitated, unsure of what to do.

  "I said, sit down, Kate."

  She glared at me, daring me to make her. "Why should I do that, Kingsley? Why should I do anything you say?"

  I smiled at her, but with none of the light I'd exhibited moments ago in our conversation. No, this smile was the predatory alpha smile I'd given her in the club when I had shown my masculine power. She gulped, and her eyes dilated as she looked at me, mesmerized by what she saw.

  "Because, if you don't sit down," I said, standing, "I will take you over my knee in this restaurant and spank your ass until you beg me for mercy."

  I was beginning to enjoy the shocked expressions she was repetitively exhibiting in my presence.

  "You wouldn't." I reached out and grabbed her wrist, tugging her toward me as I sat back down on my chair and pulled her to sit on my lap all in one motion.

  "Wouldn't I? You have seen the tabloids, Kate, you know what I'm capable of. In the time it takes to snap your fingers, I can have you over my lap, with your pretty little face down, and what I imagine as a pert behind facing up. So, what will it be, a spanking, or a lovely lunch with a spirited conversation?"

  I knew she weighed out her options. I could feel her trembling, and I knew if I ran my hand up her skirt, she would be wet. I moved my hand along her thigh, and she became rigid in my arms but didn't stop me. I climbed higher to the apex between her legs and stroked along her panty clad slit. As I had guessed, she was soaking wet. The idea of being helpless over my lap clearly turned her on.

  Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as the truth of our predicament was now clear. She may want to fight me, at least her tough Kate act tried to resist me. But this soft, blushing woman on my lap was begging for me to take her, to tame her, and provide what no one else, including herself, had been able to give so far, a purpose and unconditional acceptance of who she was.

  "Good girl, Katarina, now go and sit back in your chair, I have ordered for us, and our first pairing should be arriving any minute." She stood and moved back to her chair. She took a longing look at the exit door before shifting her attention back to me.

  "You certainly are
sure of yourself, aren't you, Kingsley?

  "Yes, I am, and in time, you will be, too."

  She frowned. "What do you mean?"

  Before I could answer, our server arrived with our first lunch pairing, sparkling white wine and oysters. I thanked our server, Chloe, who blushed profusely before making her escape.

  "Katarina, to best experience this pairing, take an oyster and then immediately a sip of your wine."

  She did as she was instructed, and as the first oyster and subsequent sip of wine slid down her throat, a look of pleasure played over her lovely face. She quickly repeated the process, her look of delight increasing. She sat back in her chair with a contented sigh.

  "I hate to admit it, but that was perfect."

  I grinned in response. "Indeed, it was. Shall we finish?" We polished off the plate in minutes, and we both sat back in our seats for a break.

  "How did you know what to order. Have you been here before?"

  Another predatory smile flashed on my face as I answered, "I own this restaurant. Ceilo is British, my mother's maiden name."

  She rolled her eyes. "Really? Of course, you own this, Mr. Entrepreneur. Your parents must be so proud," she responded sarcastically.

  "Not in the least. They would prefer me to be in England, pursuing old money and family business connections and doing what every other generation before me has done. They would prefer it if I were just like my father. But alas, I have made myself, with my own money. You see, I was born with a silver spoon, too, Katarina, but I removed it as soon as possible. So, what they think is completely irrelevant to me."

  She blushed, embarrassed. "I'm happy for you that you can be so in charge of who you are; that's not me."

  "We all do what we must, Katarina," I responded, keeping my tone level.

  "Touché," she remarked.

  Our next pairing arrived, Pernod creamed prawns and a glass of Bodegas Rafael from Southern Spain, a grape that was making a comeback on the wine stage of Europe. I watched as Kate took her prawn, making sure it was lathered in the Pernod cream sauce with a little bit of minty basil on top.