Just a King: A Secret Romance, page 7
And there’s Senator Garland’s daughter, the newscasters will say.
Ain’t she just sweet?
Oh, and beside her is the senator’s campaign manager, Roland Banks.
You know, I hear love is in the air for those two.
I wonder how her father feels about that!
Like Cupid, I’d guess!
And they’ll laugh.
But what they don’t know is that Kingston will get the last laugh in the end.
I’ve spoken to him every day since the night we spent together. He spends his days at the Vegas Plaza being the Botsford-in-charge. I spend mine traveling Nevada as the doting daughter I’ve always been. Then, at the end of it all, after the campaign events are long over and the hotel shifts change, I rush off to my room wherever I’m staying and call Kingston.
He always answers after the first ring. The second his voice touches my ears, I fall to pieces. I forget who I am and where I came from. I’m just Fiona.
His queen.
That’s what he calls me. We’ll talk until the early morning hours, until neither of us can possibly stay awake another second. Right before I hang up, he’ll whisper, “Sleep tight, my queen.”
I’ve fallen so desperately for it that I can’t imagine ending my day any other way. The only thing better would be if his arms were around me and I could feel the brush of his lips against my ear as he said it.
I think about that as I auto-pilot through the last leg of this debate. The lights rise in the auditorium. I happily shake the hand of everyone who walks up to me to say hello. They admire me for my dedication to my father’s campaign. They wish him luck in the election and — just between us — is he planning on running for President? I merely flash a noncommittal wink and move on to the next person.
Which, eventually, is Roland.
He takes hold of my elbow and waves with his other hand at the small group crowded around me. “I’m sorry to drag her away but the Senator would very much like his daughter back!” he says with a goofy smile.
The people laugh as I say a quick goodbye. They shuffle out of the way to give us enough room to make our way toward the stage. I try to slide my arm from Roland, but he tightens his grip until we’re behind the curtain.
I quickly spot my father at the far side. Before I can get away, Roland clears his throat.
“Fiona,” he says, “can I ask you something?”
I bite down. “Sure,” I say.
“It’s…” He pauses and smiles beneath the stage lights. “It’s actually a two-part question.”
“What’s the first part?” I ask, impatiently glancing toward the other side of the room.
He nods, obviously stalling. “I wanted to know if you’d like to have dinner with me.”
Ah, hell.
“I’m very tired tonight, Roland,” I say.
“Tomorrow night, I meant,” he says.
“Uh…”
I fidget in place. I knew he’d ask me out eventually, but I thought I’d have more time. Honestly, I expected him to wait until after the election.
“What’s the second question?” I ask, deflecting.
He hesitates, showing a slight twinkle in his eyes. “That one’s more of an at-dinner question,” he says.
“Oh.” I swallow hard. “I’m not sure it’s the best timing for something like that, Roland. The election is in a week and there’s still—”
“I know. It’s gonna be busy but that’s why I wanted to ask you while we’re here. It’s the last time we’ll be in Vegas for a while, you know?”
I nod. “Yeah, I know.”
“So, tomorrow?” he asks again. “I won’t take no for an answer. Mostly because the reservation was very expensive and… a little nonrefundable.”
I force a laugh. If I say no, he’ll just ask again. Might even get my father involved and that would be more than a little annoying. I’m supposed to be playing nice with Roland. If I go on one date, then I can at least claim that I tried.
“Okay,” I answer. “Sure. Tomorrow night.”
Roland smiles. “Excellent,” he says with relief. “We’ll have a good time. I promise.”
“Yeah,” I say, my gut churning. “I’m sure we will.”
* * *
The butterflies in my stomach threaten to devour me whole as our town car turns off the Strip. I glance out the window as we round the guest drop-off zone so I can stare up at the golden B in the orange Las Vegas sky.
At last.
The driver parks the car by the entrance and promptly hops out to open our door for us. I take his hand, welcoming the steady grip as my ankles sway beneath me. I didn’t realize how tense I was sitting until I try to stand on my own, but the excitement inside of me can’t be helped.
Kingston is waiting for me inside.
Mildred climbs out behind me, dismissing the driver’s helping hand, but she’s never been one to accept it anyway. Instead, he heads to the trunk and pulls out our bags, along with the delicate, rectangular frame wrapped in brown paper. He tries to hand it off to the bellhop suddenly lingering over our shoulders. I quickly extend my hands for it instead.
“I’ll take it. Please,” I add with insistence.
The bellhop doesn’t argue. He gives it to me, though his expression flashes with a hint of curiosity over what it could be before he loads our suitcases and garment bags onto a golden cart to escort inside.
Mildred and I make our way into the Botsford Plaza Hotel. It looks the same as always with small groups of people positively drenched in wealth and power, all dressed up for a night out in the City of Sin. Usually, I secretly wish I could be a part of that. Not tonight.
There’s something even more sinful waiting for me upstairs.
Mildred heads to the front desk to check us in. I linger behind her with a steadily increasing heartbeat. Only a few more minutes of this and I’ll—
“Fiona Garland.”
I turn around at the sound of my name.
Drake Botsford stands there with his hands casually stuffed in his pants pockets. His jacket sleeves are rolled up, exposing a toned pair of forearms and a rather expensive watch. Given the putrid smirk on his face, he seems quite proud of it. His hair is radically over-moussed and my nose curls at the thick stench of his cologne.
It’s hard to believe he’s related to Kingston.
I nod, feigning politeness. “Mr. Botsford.”
He smiles. “Oh, good. My reputation proceeds me.”
“It certainly does.”
“You know,” he gestures at the frame in my hands, “we have men who are supposed to carry that for you.”
“I can handle it myself.”
“I guess the important things have laxed a bit since my little brother took over,” he says with a sigh. “I’ll have to give him a talking-to.”
“There’s really no need,” I say. “I declined the—”
“It’s nice to see you back here,” he says, raising his voice to talk over me. “In fact, I was hoping to run into you while I was in town.”
I glance at Mildred’s back, praying the girl at the desk doesn’t take much longer. “Oh?” I ask.
“Yes, I didn’t get the chance to speak to you the last time I saw you.” Drake’s eyes drift down my chest. My annoyance spikes. “How about you make it up to me and let me buy you a drink tonight?”
I bite my tongue to keep from laughing. “I’m sorry, Mr. Botsford. I’ll be quite busy tonight.”
“Pick a time, Fiona,” he urges. “I’m wide-open.”
“Ms. Garland,” I correct him.
Drake pauses, his lips pursing. “Pick a time, Ms. Garland,” he says again, stabbing the words even harder this time.
It reminds me of countless men I’ve met over the years from my father’s inner circle. It’s not so much a playful request anymore. It’s a demand.
Luckily, I know this game far better than he does.
“That won’t be possible, Mr. Botsford,” I say. “However, you can have your people contact my people and perhaps something can be arranged at another date and time. Until then, I have more important matters at hand.” Mildred appears beside me with our room keys. “Now, if you’ll excuse us. We have an event to get to.”
I don’t wait for a response. I turn on my heel and sway toward the elevators, lifting the frame high to keep it from grazing the floor as I walk. Mildred stays close to me. I offer her the now-familiar gaze of gratitude for her impeccable timing.
We board the elevator, along with the young bellhop pushing around our luggage cart. I chat with him a bit on the way up, asking about school and his future plans to kill the time. He gladly tells me all about his father’s welding business and (after a little strategic prodding on my part) how Kingston always asks them to do minor repairs around the building instead of calling the fancy corporate-approved handymen from Los Angeles.
“Why do that when the local guys are cheaper and twice as good, Mr. B says.” He smiles. “Though, he always pays us the same as he’d pay the fancy guys. Boss is good like that.”
I grin. He certainly is.
We reach our rooms. Mildred offers me a wink before she disappears behind her door across from mine. I tip the bellhop and he bows, wishing me a good night before making his way back down to the elevators.
Finally, I’m all alone, but I keep my breath held until I hear the door latch.
A chill rolls up and down my back, but it’s as warm and pleasant as a summer breeze. Soon, I’ll be with Kingston again. Soon, I’ll feel his kiss on my lips and his hands on my skin. Soon, we’ll—
My heart skips twice as I notice the shape in the corner of my eye.
A man stands outside the window with his back to me. The balcony door is open with the curtains softly billowing on either side of it. Fear jolts my gut at first, but it’s gone in a second. There’s no way I wouldn’t recognize those broad shoulders or the firm edge of his cheek. Hell, even the way he stands is just so very…
Kingston.
I step forward, stopping where the room meets the balcony. “You know, it’s rude to enter a lady’s room without her permission,” I say.
Kingston turns around and grins. “My sincerest apologies, Ms. Garland. It won’t happen again.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He moves toward me with two wide steps, his eyes flashing with a brutal lust. “You’re right,” he says. “That’d make me a very, very bad man.”
I fall into his arms as he kisses me.
Weeks of stolen words and lonely nights have led to this moment. My heart nearly bursts in my chest. My lips tingle and my eyelids grow heavy with tears.
Kingston breaks our kiss and embraces me. “I’ve missed you, Fiona,” he whispers, holding me as if I could slip away again at any moment.
I bury my face in his chest. Of course, I missed him, too. My throat clenches too hard for me to say it.
I didn’t realize how much the distance hurt until I was standing beside him again.
Right where I always belonged.
12
Fiona
A cool wind blows in through the open windows. The curtains shift back and forth, playing peek-a-boo with the flashing lights outside on the Strip.
I listen closely with a smile on my face. City sounds fly in one ear. Kingston’s heartbeat tickles the other. I take a deep breath and my head grows a little heavier on his bare chest. A few more minutes of this and I might never wake up again. I won’t even mind.
Kingston kisses my brow and runs his hand up and down my naked arm. “It’s a good night tonight,” he says, his voice floating miles away.
I hum with satisfaction. “Better than good.”
I turn my head up to kiss him. Our lips lock as he cups my face. I can’t help but melt even more for him. I slide on top of him, breasts pressing into his pecs, and I feel his hardness caressing my thigh beneath the sheets.
“Again?” I tease.
He chuckles. “If I could control him, I would.”
I sit up to straddle him. His hands come to rest on my knees. “And how hard is that, exactly?” I ask.
He humps once. “You tell me.”
I poke his chest with a thumbnail. “I don’t mean that.” I bite my cheek, wondering how to phrase it. “I mean, do you find it difficult to…” I sigh. “The majority of our time so far has been long distance, right?”
He nods. “Right.”
“And in that time, it’s… well, it’s easy to assume that you have possibly… with other women.”
“It is?” he asks.
“Isn’t it?”
“Logistically, I suppose.”
“It just seems that, of all the things we’ve spoken about together over the last few weeks… exclusivity hasn’t exactly come up.”
He nods. “That’s true.”
“So, I was just wondering if this — you and I — was a serious thing or if we’re just having fun.”
“I thought it was both,” he says.
“Me, too.”
“Then, we’re in agreement.”
“I think so.”
Kingston sits up and wraps his arms around my waist. “We will continue to have serious fun with each other.”
“And no one else,” I add.
He smiles. “And no one else.”
We kiss once to seal our pact. Kingston’s grin grows wider.
He grabs me by the waist. “Now that that’s settled…” he says before twisting us around and planting me on my back again.
I laugh as his rough touch turns tender. I swoon under the pleasure of his kiss once more. Never in my life has a man had the ability to make my heart stop and race at the same time. Now that the exclusivity question really is settled, I can safely assume I make him feel the same way. Unfortunately, I can’t shout it from the rooftops just yet.
But I can find other ways to be in his life.
I run my fingers through his hair as Kingston kisses my cleavage.
“I have something for you,” I say.
He looks up. “A gift?”
I nod. He smirks.
“I thought you were my gift,” he says.
I swoon at the joke and bob my chin toward the frame lying against the wall by the door. “It’s that, over there,” I say.
Kingston follows my gaze across the dark room and nods at the frame, barely illuminated by city lights. “That’s for me?” he asks.
“Go ahead,” I say.
He gives my forehead a quick kiss before hopping out of bed. I curl up in the sheets and stare at his naked body with happy eyes as he wanders over and kneels beside the frame.
“Just rip it open,” I say.
“All right.”
He does as he’s told and tears at the brown paper, exposing the painting hidden beneath. A bright sunset full of blues and oranges and reds and purples.
Kingston removes the paper completely. I smile as his eyes roam from one brush stroke to the next.
“It’s beautiful,” he says.
“I found it at a little gallery across the way from my father’s apartment in Washington,” I say. “I thought it’d look great in your office downstairs.”
“It will.” He looks at me, his perfect, hooded eyes appearing soft and warm. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m feeling more creative already.”
I laugh. “That was the idea.”
“I have something for you, too.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes, but,” he chuckles, “it honestly feels really lame now in comparison to this.”
I sit up on my elbow. “Well, I like lame.”
Kingston leaves the painting behind and walks over to the mini-fridge by the writing desk. I twist around to follow his movements, not wanting to miss a moment of that toned body in the shadows. He opens the mini-fridge and grabs a small pint hidden inside, along with two golden spoons.
I gasp. “Is that what I think it is?”
“The finest gourmet strawberry ice cream I could find,” he says.
“Yes, please.”
He offers me a spoon, playfully pulling it back as I reach for it twice before finally letting me have it. I sit up, impatiently waiting as he peels the lid off and hands it to me. I shovel a bit onto my spoon and put it in my mouth. Sweet flavors instantly melt on my tongue. I moan with happiness as Kingston joins me on the bed again.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, licking my lips. “I’m feeling more creative already.”
Kingston laughs with me. I tilt the pint toward him to share. He fills his own golden spoon and we sit for a few silent moments together, staring and tasting.
Once we have a good chunk of the pint gone, I sit back with a blissful sigh. “You’ve certainly unlocked the way to my heart, Kingston Botsford,” I say.
He licks the sweet off his lips. “Same to you, Fiona Garland.”
We pause, lingering in the moment between friends and lovers. What began with an innocent, albeit rebellious, cigarette grew into this.
“Ah—” Kingston flinches and looks down at his chest. “Cold. Very cold.”
I smile at the spot of dripping, pink perfection staining his right pec. I set my own spoon down and lick my lips, quickly blocking his hand from wiping it off.
Kingston takes the hint and leans back as I straddle over him. I lower down with my tongue out, eager to taste the sweet ice cream on his salty skin.
“Maybe your dad was right,” he quips. “Strawberry is a naughty flavor.”
I lick him once, twice, three times, making sure to clean every drop of it. Once I’m done, I move upward to his neck. He shudders with need, quickly setting our pint and spoons on the bedside table and gripping my shoulders. His throat rattles with a ravenous growl. His cock presses hard against my folds.
I sit up with one hand on his chest, barely able to contain myself as I reach down to grab his shaft. He grunts with pleasure. I spark my own by purposefully rubbing his tip against my throbbing clit. The tease drives us both insane, but Kingston lies back, letting me take control. I rub harder, rocking my hips with it until I’m nearly over the edge.
