King of Me (The King Trilogy #3)(2)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Now, how breaking King’s curse would translate into a dead person—any dead person—returning to life? That was where things became even stranger. He claimed that once his curse was broken, the Artifact would allow one life to be brought back as a sort of “do over.” King had obviously planned for his life to be the lucky one, but he’d made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. In exchange for ending his torment, he would allow my brother to return in his place. This meant that King would cease to exist, but in the end, we’d all get something we wanted. The only trick now was getting a hold of the elusive Artifact. And…I sighed, I have to find a way to open my heart to him in order to deliver “the antidote.”

Easier said than done.

“Not difficult at all,” King said. “You must simply put your youthful, spirited mind to it.”

I made a little huff. I may only be twenty-six—a baby in his eyes—but I know hearts don’t follow the mind; it’s the other way around.

He tisked in disagreement. “There, you see. A sign of your youthful naivety; your mind is far more powerful than you give it credit.”

“My mind is busy trying to accept that either way I’m screwed.”

“I should hope so, Miss Turner.” He cocked one dark, silky brow. “After all, is that not why you are here with me tonight? For the screwing?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Funny. “You know what I meant, King. You’ve backed me into a no-win situation.”

“How so?”

He knew the answer. He was too smart not to. But he wanted to hear me say it. He liked watching me squirm.

“If I successfully find a way to…” I swallowed, “love you, then your curse will end and you’ll…”

“Cease to exist?”

I nodded. Yes, I’ll get to enjoy the heartbreak of caring about someone and losing him.

“Ah. But you will get your brother back in my place.”

“Yes.” But if I don’t break your curse, I lose Justin. There was no right in this equation. There was no easy out or perfect ending. A Greek tragedy in the making.

“I cannot argue,” he said casually, seemingly uninterested in my heart-wrenching dilemma. “It is quite the predicament.”

I looked at him and forced myself not to react to his indifference or to his exquisite masculine shell that made my body want and need things it shouldn’t.

“I have a question,” I said. “Are you just using this as an excuse to sleep with me?”

“Perhaps.” His voice dropped an octave. “But if you are to love me, then we must become acquainted. And I assure you, the gift of…” he paused, “fucking is one of my finer qualities. I fear, perhaps, my only fine quality. Why not begin with our best attributes forward?”

“Stop. We both know you’re exaggerating,” I argued. “And before you go there, I’m not talking about the sex.” I was, however, talking about his “finer qualities.” I’d learned that King was sporadically capable of incredible compassion. A leftover from his pre-curse days, I supposed. What I would’ve given to know that version of him—King with a heart. This King was ruled by his obsession with the Artifact. He’d lied, manipulated, and bullied me into doing things just to get closer to it, which is why the man couldn’t be trusted when it came to that damned rock.

Yes, I planned to play this out very carefully.

“I am worse than you could ever imagine,” he said. “You will see for yourself soon enough.” He looked toward the doorway where the waiter stood at attention. It was eerie to see the five-star restaurant overlooking the city empty. Like we’d shown up too early. In reality, it was ten o’clock at night, and King had reserved the entire place just for us.

“Yes, sir. What may I bring you?” asked the waiter.

King handed him the menu. “I’ll have the steak Diane. Rare. She’ll have the same.”

“Very good, sir.” The man scurried away.

Steak? I was leaning toward a salad, something that won’t make my stomach bulge out while we’re—I swallowed—having sex.

King chuckled at my thoughts. “You’re beautiful, Mia. And I am looking forward to showing you how much I mean that.” He sipped his champagne. “By the way, the steak will help you keep up your strength. I am ravenous in the bedroom.”

My spit stuck in my throat as I pictured the two of us, our na**d bodies writhing together on the large bed of whatever luxury penthouse suite he’d procured for the night. King was beyond gorgeous. He was every woman’s sexual fantasy—large, hard, and lean—but on the other side of the coin, sleeping with a ghost. A dead man—

“Enough.” King slammed his fist on the table.

I jumped in my seat. “I can’t help how I feel.”

“You’ve touched me before. You’ve wrapped your hand around my cock. You didn’t seem to notice any difference then, so stop behaving like—”

“Don’t. Don’t speak to me like I’m your dog, or your woman, or your wife, or your anything.”

“Oh…” He chuckled. “But you will be.”

“Excuse me?”

“My wife, that is.”

I blinked. Did I hear him correctly?

“Yes. You did,” he responded.

“I never agreed to that.”

“You agreed to give me redemption and freedom from my hellish existence.”

“Marriage is out of the question.” And it had nothing to do with what I’d agreed to. In fact, I was seriously beginning to doubt his argument for having sex, too.

“You think you have a choice in the matter?”

“Yes.” I always had a choice.

“Wrong. You will f**k me tonight. Then you will marry me, love me, and end my curse.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re seriously commanding me to do those things?”

“What the hell do you think?”

I think you’re insane.

“I don’t give a f**king hell what you think. You’ll do as you are told, Miss Turner, because that was always our deal.”

I was about to retort when a poignant question entered my head: Why all this fuss masked in a flurry of threats and bullying? Because shocking me was one of his classic moves. The bastard is planning something.

Tugging on his silver cufflink, King glared from across the table. “You dare question my integrity? We have a deal, and I never welsh.”