“The lad is only human,” Darby chimes in. “Can’t expect him to be perfect all the time.”
“He’s far from perfect.” My eyes widen the moment I realize that I’ve actually said what was running through my mind. Not wanting to offend two people who clearly care for Alexander, I try to correct my mistake. “Er—I mean . . .”
Darby laughs. “No wonder he likes her. She’s a feisty one.”
Aggie nods in agreement. “Aye. Maybe he’s found his match.”
I stand there, completely unsure of what to say.
“Come on, lass. Let me show yew to where you’ll be staying,” Aggie instructs and then turns toward the staircase. “Darby will bring your bags up to your room. I’m sure you’ll need to freshen up for dinner.”
Once at the top of the stairs, Aggie leads me down a wide hallway lined with paintings. Some of the paintings are abstract pieces, while a few focus on people. Each one is more beautiful than the last. One, in particular, catches my attention.
It’s Alexander.
He sits in a high-back leather chair, and the dark background causes the red tie he’s wearing to pop out against his gray suit. It’s uncanny how lifelike the piece looks. There’s a hint of mischief in his gray eyes paired with that signature cocky grin. Even in a painting Alexander King appears to be up to no good. It’s amazing how even a picture of him causes my body to do crazy things, like yearn his touch.
“These are beautiful,” I tell Aggie, who’s waiting patiently for me to study the pictures that I’m sure she’s passed by a million times. “Are they all the same artist?”
“They are.” Alexander’s voice causes me to jump.
Clearly, I wasn’t expecting him to be the one to answer me.
My back goes ramrod straight with the arrival of the unwelcome asshole who owns the place. The relaxed mood that Aggie and Darby had created the moment I stepped foot inside this building is suddenly gone.
Alexander comes strutting down the hall, wearing a white oxford rolled up to his elbows and the same dark slacks he had on earlier in the office. He’s clearly made himself more comfortable since the last time I’d seen him today.
He stops about a foot away and then turns to stare at the portrait of himself. “It’s a great likeness, don’t you think? I look pretty damn fantastic, if you ask me.”
I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes at his outward show of cockiness. “It’s very nice work. It’s too bad the artist didn’t have a better subject. If they’d had someone different, then perhaps this would be in a museum somewhere.”
A hint of a smile crosses his lips. “Margo, you have an uncanny ability to insult me and yet throw out a compliment. In this case, I’ll allow your snide jab at me to slide, considering you’ve just praised my little sister’s work.”
“Diem did this?” I raise my eyebrows, and it hits me instantly that I remember his sister from high school. Even back then, she was an artist, which made her stand out from all the other kids, and that’s how I remember her. Most kids I went to school with were obsessed with getting into top-notch colleges in order to be able to work for their family businesses, but not Diem. She was all about art and expressing herself.
He motions to the other paintings hanging on both sides of the hall. “She did all of these. She very passionate about her work, and she actually just sold her first piece shortly before we left for Las Vegas.”
“That’s fantastic,” I answer honestly. “She’s clearly very talented.”
This time when he smiles, it’s more reminiscent of a proud parent. It’s nice to know he’s not a heartless jackass in all facets of his life.
“Come,” Alexander instructs. “I’ll show you to your room.”
He turns to go back the way he came down the hall, and I follow, suddenly aware that Aggie is no longer with us.
We pass a couple of doors. Alexander explains that one is a bathroom and that there are seven in total in the apartment. The second door belongs to his little sister who still stays with him from time to time.
“I take it that the two of you get along well,” I state as we pass by Diem’s room.
He shrugs. “For the most part, we do. There are times when she tries my patience, but I guess that’s what little sisters do.”
“Does your mother still have to break up fights between the two of you like she did when you were children?”
This question causes Alexander’s body to stiffen. “My mother hasn’t been in our lives for quite some time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell him as the feeling of pity for the loss of a mother wafts over me. Nowhere in my research about Alexander King did it talk about a strained relationship with his mother. It then falls upon me to lighten the mood since I seemed to have brought up a touchy subject. “Well, seems to be her loss, and Diem seems to be able to create in spite of her not being around.”
He nods but doesn’t say another word about the topic.
Clearly talking about his mother isn’t something that he likes to do. I make a mental note about that so I tread lightly on the subject stay on his good side. I want this little arrangement to go off without a hitch. In order for the board to believe that we’re a happy couple, we have to maintain what I like to refer to as a pleasant working relationship.
When we come to the third door on the left, Alexander stops. “This is your room. You may decorate it however you wish while you’re here. If you need anything at all, please feel free to ask Aggie or Darby. They will see to your needs. Unless your needs are of the sexual variety. In that case, I expect you to report directly to me so that I can assist you with that. I like for all my guests to be satisfied.”
“And there’s the asshole I know,” I say. “I wondered where you’d been hiding for the last few minutes.”
Alexander pulls a key from his pants pocket and then dangles it in front of me. “You know very well that I can be nice when I want to be, Margo. I thought I was very accommodating in Vegas.”
There’s no mistaking the teasing tone of his voice, and it pisses me off. I don’t like the fact that I gave in to this man, and I don’t like him throwing the fact that I’ve fucked him in my face. And I for damn sure want to make sure that he knows that he’s never getting inside these panties ever again.
I narrow my eyes. “Well, don’t worry about being nice to me while I’m here. I made sure to pack my own battery-powered happiness maker, so I’m afraid I won’t need you to accommodate anything relating to me ever again.”
That trademark grin returns in full force. “I seem to remember you making these same threats before, and we still ended up married.”
“For now,” I reply and then snatch the key from his hand. “That’s one problem I intend to remedy as soon as possible.”
He leans against the wall and folds his arms over his chest. “Well, Princess, I hate to be the one to burst whatever perfectly planned little bubble you’ve got going on in that beautiful brain of yours, but we’re not separating until I’m sure the board buys that we were at least madly in love when we said I do and we have to pay Yamada a visit on his island this coming Thurday.”
I twist my lips. I wish I could go back and punch myself square in the face during that part of our nuptials and scream ‘I don’t!’ because now King has me by the proverbial balls, and he knows it. I just have to keep cool and not lose my head, even though the man is frustratingly gorgeous and has a body that I wouldn’t mind seeing naked again. Being so attracted to him complicates the hell out of things.