King's Passion

“I say you forget about the lawsuit and hook-up with Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome.”

“I hardly think that he’s a fifty-million-dollar lay,” Victoria snipped.

The twins exchanged a look.

“You know I really hate it when you two do that,” Victoria said as they stepped into the elevator. “If you’ve got something to say, I wish that you would just say it.”

“It’s just that…the lawsuit. You don’t think that maybe you’re overreacting?”

Victoria’s mouth dropped open as she turned toward her cousins. “Overreacting? Have you forgotten how I was humiliated last week? My wedding announcement was in the New York Times. Three hundred of the most important people in New York show up for a wedding that cost my father a mint—only for my fiancé to fly to Vegas for a bachelor party and fall head over heels in love with a stripper named Delicious. Are you hearing me? Delicious. And you just calmly stand there and ask me if I’m overreacting?!”

Grace shrugged and mumbled, “It was just a question.”

“Then the answer is no. When I get through with Marcus and his hoochie momma—and even that lecherous club owner with the octopus arms—they’re going to wish that I’d hired a hit man to take them out of their misery.”

The elevator dinged on the thirtieth floor and Victoria, with her anger renewed, marched out with her cousins rushing behind her. “Victoria, we didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You know what? Don’t worry about it. I’m just going to take a long shower, get some sleep and then we can just fly out in the morning,” Victoria said, sliding her card key into the lock. “I’ll just catch up with you two later.”

“Wait.”

“No. Really. I’m tired and I would really like to get some sleep.” More like she was on the verge of crying again and wanted to make her escape before the first tear fell.

“Well…all right,” Iris said, looking to her sister to see if she had any pearls of wisdom that would help the situation.

Before Grace could open her mouth, Victoria was slamming her door closed. It was a good thing, too. Not two seconds later, two fat teardrops seeped from her lashes and rolled down her face. Why did she expect anyone to understand where she was coming from? They didn’t have every society page and blogger laughing and saying mean things about them.

“Billion-dollar Bride Jilted at the Altar.”

“Slam-Dumped!”

“Runaway Groom!”

“Money Can’t Buy You Love.”

All she wanted was not to get hurt. She had been so meticulous and so careful that she didn’t understand how this whole thing blew up in her face. Marcus was not ambitious, he was unassuming and everything pointed to low drama. No. She didn’t love him. Love had nothing to do with their union. But she had thought that they’d grown fond of one another—friends, certainly. And that was the most important thing, according to her grandmother before she died. A woman’s looks faded with time, and sex was overrated. The secret to a long-lasting relationship was friendship—companionship. She thought that at least she had that with Marcus.

Now she didn’t even know where the hell he was. But she had a detective on it and as soon as he reared his head, she was going to ruin him. In the meantime, she would take her frustrations out on the people she could find: the owners of The Dollhouse.

Victoria closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. There was no point in getting herself all worked up again. But while she chugged in huge gulps of air, the image of Mr. King floated to the forefront of her mind and her body became all warm and tingly. He had to be at least six-four with the skin the color of a Hershey’s milk-chocolate bar. Just remembering its rich and smooth texture had her one cavity acting up.

And his lips—not too big, not too small. They were just right and pillow soft. And the taste of his kiss…

Victoria’s head drifted back while she emitted a long “Mmm.” But as soon as she heard herself, her eyes sprang back open and she glanced around to make sure that she was indeed alone.

“Get a hold of yourself, Victoria.” She exhaled and then leaned to each side to remove her high heels. But as she moved around the large suite, forgetting about her sexy King proved hard to do. She remembered vividly his surprising speed. The way he’d pinned her back against the wall. That one brief moment of helplessness and his pure dominance over her still had a way of stealing her breath.

When had she ever come up against a force that powerful? And why had that one act made her not only aware of being a woman, but conscious of a unique power she never wielded before? At a glance someone would’ve easily thought that he was in control, but she was certain that she was.

As Victoria entered the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the whirlpool tub, she analyzed everything that happened after she’d laid eyes on King. She remembered vividly how his eyes caressed her body. The glint in his eyes told her that he definitely liked what he saw. Clearly her years of veganism and five a.m. boot-camp workouts had paid off.

By the second time, his gaze performed a slow drag over her body, her heart was pounding, her nipples were hard as rocks and she was aching in between her legs. Long before King’s cute cousin strolled in, there had to be enough pheromones raging between the two of them to ignite an orgy.

Victoria smiled as she removed her clothes, but remained in a dreamy state as she eased into the tub’s hot water. What would’ve happened if Grace and that other woman hadn’t barged in? Would she have allowed a complete stranger to do her up against the wall of his office?

The answer was obvious, but she lied to herself by shaking her head. The good, conservative girl within her said that she would have ended things before he had gotten the chance to ease his hand anywhere near her panties. But the bad girl in her said who needed a hand when she could clearly feel his hard erection pressed against her through their clothes. She knew exactly what he was working with and it had only turned her on more—not less. Plus, hadn’t the man already laid claim to her butt? He was squeezing and caressing it as if it had been his God-given right. And wasn’t his mouth just mere inches from popping her right nipple into his mouth? Where were her good sense and values then?

Her smile widened while she absently scrubbed her body. It wasn’t long before she was wishing that their little interlude could’ve lasted just five more minutes. Five more minutes of that wonderful mouth, those talented hands and hard, thick rod that was poking her in between her legs, begging her to say the word. “Yes,” she whispered, smiling.

In the distance, the hotel phone rang.

The twins. She sighed. I told them that I wanted to be left alone. She rolled her eyes and sank deeper into the tub. When the phone stopped ringing, Victoria smiled and went back to her memories of the sexiest man that she had ever met.

Chapter 6

“Damn it!” Eamon disconnected the call and then pocketed his cell phone.

“Maybe it’s just me, but I could have sworn that you were a lot smoother with the ladies,” Quentin chuckled as he eased onto the bar stool next to him. “I certainly don’t recall you having them run away from you like escaped convicts.”

Eamon lifted a brow. “You want to give me advice on women?”

“Who better than a man who has been in the boxing ring with love?” Quentin volleyed without missing a beat. “I jabbed when I should’ve ducked and ducked when I should’ve jabbed.”

“So you’re an expert now?”

“Only enough to know that I’ll never get into the ring again.” Q winked. “But if you’re just trying to lure these delectable creatures into your bed, keep the nights from getting too cold, then I’m your man. You’d have to talk to my brothers for that happily-ever-after crap. They seem to have that down pat.”

Though Quentin maintained his smile, there was an underlying sadness in his eyes and a voice that he couldn’t cover up. Why hadn’t Eamon noticed before?

When Q grew uncomfortable with Eamon staring at him too hard, he patted him hard on the back. “Cheer up. Let me buy you a drink.”

Eamon twisted his face. “We own the bar.”

“Let’s not get hung up on technicalities.” He climbed out of his seat and went behind the counter. “What will it be, cuz? Bourbon? Jack?”

“Kamikaze,” Eamon answered.

“Ahh. Vodka and triple sec.” Quentin cocked his head. “Now, why doesn’t that come as a surprise to me? A Kamikaze man is adventurous, bold and courageous.”

Eamon laughed. “You’re psychoanalyzing me based on the kind of drink I like?”

“Laugh if you wanna, but all bartenders know that it’s an art as well as a science.”

“You always did look at things differently.”

“No. I think I’m on to something with this,” Quentin said, reaching for the bottle of vodka. “Ask any bartender and they will tell you the same thing I am. You can tell more about a man by what he drinks than the clothes he wears.”

“Is that right?”