King’s (The King Trilogy #1)(7)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Shit. Where are the stairs?

His hand slipped around and cupped my breast through my damp shirt, which triggered me to make my move, but he blocked my elbow and somehow caught my wrist. I felt my bones bending from the pressure of his grip. Then, with a swiftness my mind couldn’t process, he twisted my arm behind my back and pushed me face down onto the desk.

“What are you doing?” I cried.

“What does it look like?” He pushed on my arm, and the sharp, unbearable pain of my shoulder pulling from its socket made me moan in agony.

He chuckled softly, and I felt the hardness of his stiff c**k pressing into my ass. His free hand slid under my skirt, between my thighs, and cupped me from behind. His hot fingers forcefully stroked me through my panties. “How did you know I wanted to play rough tonight?”

“Please,” I begged. “I’ll do anything for Justin. But not this.”

His hand froze. “Justin?” he snarled. “Who the f**k is Justin?”

“My little brother.”

“Who sent you?” he growled.

“I—I heard about you through a friend.”

Without relinquishing his grip on my arm, he removed his hand from between my legs. He decided that grinding my head into the desk was a better option. “Who. Sent. You?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” I mumbled, half my face plastered against the polished, antique wood that smelled of stale cigars and varnish. “Do you want to talk price or not?”

He laughed, a sinister, cruel laugh, and released me. I quickly spun, ready to beat the man with my fists, but he caught my arm again, and when I looked into his eyes, I knew I’d never forget them. Not in my dreams, not in the daylight, not on my deathbed. They were a light shimmery gray, fringed with black lashes, and filled with something ominous. I suddenly didn’t see a dangerous, and perhaps violent, thirty-year-old man with a flawlessly masculine face standing before me in an expensive suit. I saw a man with deep trenches of scars on his soul from a lifetime of greed and unhappiness. Whatever had happened to him, whatever had gone wrong in his life, it must’ve been bad.

I continued to stare, now seeing a storm of raw pain, loneliness, and anger raging behind those eyes. An unwelcome wave of sympathy washed over me. What had happened to him?

The man’s cold gaze wandered down to my lips as if committing every crease to memory. “What’s your name?”

“M-M-Mia? Mia Turner?” Why had I made it sound like a damned question?

There was a faint knock at the door, and we both turned our heads. In walked a woman, legs as long as my entire body, wearing a short black trench coat. Her brown hair was swept up into knot, and her lips were blood red. She regarded King, then looked at me. “Am I interrupting?”

“No. Miss Turner was just leaving,” said King.

“That’s it?” No apology? No inquiry as to why I was even there?

“Not unless you plan on laying yourself back over this desk, Miss Turner.” He shamelessly glanced down at his obvious erection.

My jaw dropped.

“I thought not.” He shrugged, and then his eyes flashed to the door. “Good night.”

“Asshole,” I hissed under my breath.

His bitter gaze dropped to my face, and he smiled, two deep grooves appearing in each cheek. If that smile had been my first glimpse ever of this man, I would have melted from its charm. But now I knew that any civility or good manners were a shallow façade.

“That was uncalled for. You came here and flaunted your wet little self. How was I supposed to know?” He looked amused.

I grabbed my coat and purse and stepped around the desk. I suddenly wanted to cry. My nerves were far beyond sizzled, and my ability to think rationally had abandoned me long, long ago. Yet, when I reached the door, I couldn’t leave. I’d come there for a reason. A damned important one.

I turned and looked at him. “I was told you can find anything or anyone. Is that true?”

His brows flinched with wicked joy. “For a price. A price I already know you’re unwilling to pay.”

Sex. The ass**le had been serious? He wanted sex?

I looked down at my soggy, red heels. Could I do that for Justin? Barter with my flesh and bones to save him? How far would Justin go for me if the roles were reversed? He wouldn’t likely object to someone demanding sex; however, he would put his life on the line for me. In fact, he had. When we were in high school, he’d saved me from a couple of drunken shitheads at a party. I was young and stupid and had too much to drink myself. Luckily, Justin had been there, but it had landed him in the hospital. He’d been beaten within an inch of his life, and I’d never forgiven myself. Not even to this day.

But Justin was always there to look after me. Always. So, yes, I’d do anything for him. My only question was, could this man, King, truly help me?

I lifted my chin and stared King down, resisting the urge to topple over and faint. “Fine. If you save Justin, I’ll-I’ll…” I swallowed. “Do that. If that’s what you want.” I couldn’t say the word sex or anything close to it.

King laughed. The beautiful, elegant woman, who’d been standing there the entire time, also looked entertained as hell.

“I have her for sex,” King glanced at the woman, “and I’m sure for the six hundred I’m paying, she’ll satisfy all my needs. You, on the other hand…” He paused, and one side of his mouth turned up. “You look like you’d break.”

The way he’d said “break” made it sound like he’d enjoy doing it.

Just when I thought I couldn’t feel any more helpless and weak, this bastard proved me wrong. I wanted to crawl inside a hole and die. How had I gotten to this place in my life? One week ago, I’d been a strong, independent woman with her whole life ahead of her. The perfect job. Happy. In control. Now…

Crap. What was wrong with me? Maybe King was right; I would break. It took less than a handful of days for life to show me how fragile I was. Yet I couldn’t help but pretend I still maintained some semblance of self-respect. Even if it was a lie.

“Did you see me crumble a few moments ago when you tried to screw me over your desk?” I reached for the door handle. “So don’t flatter yourself.”

“My price is you.”

I stilled halfway out the door and gazed back into those predatory, hypnotic, gray eyes. He terrified me. “I don’t understand.”