King of Me (The King Trilogy #3)(5)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“Trust takes time.”

“There is no ‘time.’ We have one week.”

Oh no. This didn’t sound good. “Whyyy?”

King looked away, grinding his jaw. I thought how strange it was that a ghost would do that. Then again, everything King did felt real and just as alive as any man. “I have made a deal with the 10 Club.”

What the hell? “You made a deal with those soulless ass**les?”

“Yes. Did I not just say that?”

“What deal, King?” I spat.

“I agreed to surrender my possessions.”

I sprang from my seat, ready to throttle the man. “I’m one of your possessions! Why would you do that?”

For the record, I didn’t agree I belonged to him, but what I thought didn’t matter. According to the 10 Club, a depraved, elite social network of sorts for billionaires who used each other to acquire things that couldn’t be purchased through any normal means—power, sex slaves, and other strange objects—I was his property.

“I anticipated you might react that way, Miss Turner, but let me explain: your disturbing dream was not so inaccurate.”

Mia. It’s Mia. Why is that so hard for you?

He ignored my thought and continued, “I do plan to marry you. This week, in fact. I’d hoped you’d warm to the idea after a few days alone with me.”

I had to ask, “Why?”

“I wish to legally transfer my possessions to you while I still live. The 10 Club will get nothing when I sign everything over, because I will own nothing.”

The 10 Club already had rules about ownership after one’s departure from this world. Basically, the significant other got everything. What he had done, however, was barter his possessions in exchange for something he wanted now. Of course, he intended to use a loophole to avoid giving them anything. That was sneaky. Why wasn’t I surprised?

“Why not transfer everything to my name without getting married?” I asked.

He looked at me as if I were daft.

“What?” I asked. It was a legitimate question.

“Miss Turner, I may be a ghost, but I assure you, my billions in assets are not.”

“Meaning?”

“Even if I’ll no longer be here to enjoy it, I am not about to give away half my wealth to taxes. Transfer of assets between spouses circumvents this issue.”

Taxes. I thought that over for a moment. I supposed it made sense, but something still didn’t feel right.

“What about me?” I asked. “You’ll still ‘own’ me when you sign over your big-nothing to the Club. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

“I plan to remove my claim on you. You will become my wife instead—no longer my property, but my partner.”

It was quite the grand gesture, but he had to be working another angle.

“I am not,” he said, “working another angle. My wish is to see you safe and well looked after once I am gone. Marriage is merely the vehicle to accomplish this.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Married. You’re serious.”

“Of course.”

“And you think that once the 10 Club finds out what you’ve done, they won’t come and take what they want anyway, including my life?” These bastards did what they wanted, when they wanted, except when dealing with each other, in which case they still did what they wanted, but were simply a bit more careful. Anarchists in suits. With yachts and Mercedes. And planes. Maybe a few small countries, too.

“I will ensure there are other measures in place to stop them,” he said calmly.

None of this made sense, which meant the man was definitely up to something. If I had any chance of making my way through this, I had to lay out my cards and get him to agree to things that were valuable to me. “No deal.”

King looked amused and crossed his thick arms over his partially exposed chest, a chest I was trying my damnedest not to look at. “What is it that you want?” he asked.

The old Mia, the one who hadn’t watched a twisted, sick criminal named Vaughn gut her brother like a fish, would have danced around the answer. She might have even asked nicely. But the new Mia, who’d had her life turned into a never-ending stream of chaotic crap, knew she had to watch out for herself. And I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore. That’s for sure.

“I want them destroyed,” I said. “I want the 10 Club dismantled.”

“You do still care. Proof being your request.”

“Stay out of my head.” I shot him an angry look. “I’m not here to engage in a mental exploration of my feelings. I’m here to lay out the terms of our deal.” I held up a finger. “That was number one. There’s more.”

“While I am intrigued by the rationale behind your requests, what you ask is impossible.”

“Impossible is dead people walking around for thousands of years and driving cars. Impossible is bringing someone’s deceased brother back to life with a rock.”

His eyes glowed with a subtle humor. No, I didn’t care why.

“Those are improbable,” he said smugly, “not impossible.”

“So is ending the 10 Club,” I argued.

“Point taken; however, what you ask means having to kill them all. That would take years. We don’t have years; we have seven days.”

Yeah, thanks to you.

I thought about the situation for a moment. “Okay. Then kill their leaders, starting with Vaughn.” They’d be crippled without any formal organization. The members paid an enormous sum of money into a pool each year to buy their unfettered freedom, making them above the law of any government. Without someone at the helm, someone powerful and ruthless they all feared, the club would fall apart under the weight of their own selfish, evil, cutthroat agendas.

“An excellent point, Mia. By the way, you never inquired as to why I made the deal to surrender my belongings in seven days.”

“Why? Wait, don’t tell me. It has something to do with the Artifact.”

“Very good,” he said a little too haughtily. “In fact, it has everything to do with it.”

“So you have it?” I gasped as I spoke.

“Indeed, I do.”

“Ohmygod.” Why wasn’t he dancing a jig? This man had been hunting the Artifact for, well, I didn’t know how long, but I guessed it was thousands of years.

“However,” he added, “that was not the only reason I made the deal.”