King’s (The King Trilogy #1)(8)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“I’ll find your brother, and in exchange, I own you.”

“Own me?”

“Those are my terms.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his thick biceps stretching the black fabric of his expensive blazer. “You want me to find someone dear to you, Miss Turner. Then I ask for something dear in return. Your obedient servitude. Indefinitely.”

What a sadistic bastard. He’d already stolen my last soggy crumb of dignity.

“To do what?” I asked.

He laughed, causing deep creases to form on both sides of his gorgeous, wicked mouth. “As you are told, Miss Turner. As you are told.”

“I’m in advertising. What use would I be to you?”

The scowl on his perfect, handsome face chilled my blood. It said, Don’t ever question me again. But his lips said something different: “Yes or no, Miss Turner. Yes or no?”

He couldn’t be serious. This had to be some sadistic game of chicken. Because clearly he was the sort of man who enjoyed controlling people, breaking them down. Yes, we’d already established that. So perhaps he didn’t think I had the balls to accept his terms. But I did. I’d do anything for Justin. Anything.

“Okay. Fine.”

King dipped his head as if he were a gracious gentleman accepting a duel. “Very good. Now, if you’ll excuse us; please shut the door behind you,” he commanded. “And Mia?”

“Yes.” I glanced over my shoulder one last time.

“Be here. Monday. Six a.m. sharp. And don’t be late, or the deal is off.”

~ ~ ~

Hyperventilating, I made my way outside, where the rain greeted me once more. What have you done, Mia? Something isn’t right with that man, I told myself, trying to wipe away my tears with my sopping wet coat. Lord, I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I stumbled and nearly fell, at which point I decided to take a moment in a nearby doorway to catch my breath. Meanwhile, my mind raced in sickening loops to make sense of everything that had just happened. “I own you,” he’d said. What did he really mean by that? What sort of person even said that?

Suddenly, I caught a whiff of that addictive smell from King’s office. I leaned forward a bit to see who was on the sidewalk.

Oh my Lord. It was King. Alone. Had he sent his company home?

Or maybe the jackass is really a jack rabbit.

Not likely. Men like that would never compromise their egos by being a two-second wonder.

So what made him change his mind and forgo his “date”?

In any case, I decided to follow him. I needed to know who I’d bartered away my life to—if that’s what had really just happened. Was he the devil? A psychopath?

Doing my best to stay hidden in the shadows, I followed King as he walked toward the heart of the Financial District, not too far from the renovated loft he called his office. When he turned off the busy downtown street and disappeared inside a building just down another alley, I had to see what it was. A strip club, perhaps? A sports bar for arrogant, sadistic bastards? I froze and stared at the solid black doors. No signage. No numbers. Just a plain red welcome mat to match the red bulb dangling overhead. I reached for the handles and stopped. What if he was inside? What if he saw me? He’d know I’d been following him, and he didn’t seem like the sort of man who would appreciate it. But I needed to know something, anything, about this man who scared the hell out of me and who I’d promised to practically enslave myself to only moments earlier, simply based on a hope that he might find Justin.

What was I thinking? So stupid. The man is completely insane. I wasn’t going back there, I decided now that my head felt clearer.

“It’s members only, Miss Turner,” King’s voice projected from behind me. “And I sincerely doubt you’ll find what you’re looking for inside. Justin was last seen in Palenque, was he not?”

“But how-how-how…” I could do little more than stutter like a fool. I’d just seen King go inside seconds earlier. Had he known I was following him and come back out through a side door? And how did he know where Justin had disappeared from? “You—but—how…?”

King’s straight black brows bowed into beautiful little arches as he laughed. It was the second time I’d seen those deep smile lines, and they were just as captivating as the first. And if I were only some random woman walking by, I would probably trip. The way he stood there, arms crossed, his broad, square shoulders draped in fine fabric, he could be mistaken for a real man. A perfect, stunningly good-looking man.

But I wasn’t random. And he terrified me. So I ran like a coward, his deep laughter mocking me until I was out of earshot.

Once home, I spent half the night trying to talk myself out of ever going back to see King, but I couldn’t help wondering how he’d known about Justin’s location. Perhaps I’d said something? No, I hadn’t. I’d gone over that bizarre and disturbing scene at his office a hundred times. So how had he known? Was he really able to “find anyone or anything?” And if I returned, what would happen to me? “I own you”? He couldn’t have meant that literally. Could he?

Thankfully, he’d made it clear that it wasn’t about sex. So exactly what was the deal? What would I be doing for him if I went back? Scrub his toilets? Arrange hookers to come to his office? His words, “As you are told,” left a lot of latitude.

Don’t be a coward, Mia. You have to go back. Because if this man was truly able to help, I owed it to Justin. Okay, I’ll go Monday morning, like he said. But only to ask questions.

He would have to explain how he would find Justin. If he was really a missing persons badass, then he’d have to convince me. And first thing tomorrow morning, I would go right back to that building King had gone into and find out what it was.

CHAPTER FOUR

After the longest week of my life, avoiding my parents (who thought I was still in Mexico) and trying not to crush under the weight of my worry, I showed up Monday morning, on time just as King asked.

The office was empty. A note stuck to the lamp simply said:

Sit. Wait.

– K

I scratched my head. He wanted me to wait? But hadn’t he demanded punctuality?

I knocked on the locked door, which I assumed led to his personal office, but there was no reply.

Great. I didn’t know which was worse, being in the presence of the man who scared the ever-living hell out of me or being alone in his big empty loft-slash-office. Even during the day, the place had a very¸ very unsettling vibe. The white walls were bare. The floors were dark. The air was cold.