The Heir (The King Dynasty #1)

12. I Do?

Chapter twelve

I Do?

P issed, I side eye the tall stoic man sitting calmly with his legs spread and his arms crossed on the far side of the room by the door. "How much does he fucking pay you to babysit me?" I ask.

Cradling Sweetie close to my chest, I sit in the corner of the room on the floor in between the terracotta planter and the wall that holds so many things I've touched over the months, solidifying the answer to my question that he has in fact been following me for the better part of a year.

I bury my nose in her fur. Though I'm upset at him, he's found a soft spot within me that I didn't even know existed.

My eyes cut back over to my appointed babysitter. Xavier, who I've so far learned is a tough as nails ex-marine who will not share one ounce of his business with me other than that, looks over at me from his seat against the far wall by the door that connects my bedroom with King's .

Or, our bedroom, as he calls it.

"I'm paid pretty nicely. Thank you for asking." His tone is gruff, no-nonsense, and I can tell he doesn't want me to keep asking questions. He takes his job very seriously. "Do you need anything?"

Looking over at him I arch a brow. "I could use my one phone call. Shouldn't I get one of those a day?" He stares at me impassively, but I can see a spark enter his eye. "I mean, since I'm in prison and all. Even prisoners in state penitentiary get more rights than this!"

"No." Xavier looks away from me. Ending that conversation.

Putting Sweetie down gently, I stand up and stretch, plucking at my shirt. "Can I have something else to wear? I don't want his clothes on me anymore."

Xavier pulls out a phone and dials another number. "Marianne, can you please bring Ms. Brookes a change of clothes?"

Then he hangs up and then calls a number. "Mr. King, Ms. Brookes is requesting to get dressed. Marianne is bringing her a change of clothes. Do I have permission to give her privacy for five minutes?" My eyes go wide as Xavier grunts. "No, no she did not eat her lunch either, sir." He pauses for a second before side eyeing me. "Just got off the floor. No. Yes, sir." He hangs up the phone.

I stand there, waiting. When Xavier's not forthcoming, I throw my arms to the side impatiently. "Well?"

Just then, Marianne comes through the door, holding a cream, slinky dress tossed across her arm. "Ma'am." She smiles at me and then lays my dress over the bed. "Mr. King requests your presence for dinner."

The nerve.

"Tell him I said fuck you. And to give me my phone ." My eyes flash as hers go wide before she looks down nodding.

"Yes, ma'am." She turns on her heel and then leaves the room .

Xavier stands up and gives me a look. "You've got three minutes to change. Not five," he says simply, exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

I lunge for the dress, ripping off my clothes and seeing that she didn't bring any panties, or a bra. Not even a strapless bra. I hold the dress up, seeing it's rather low cut. I make a small sound and turn, searching for a dresser that I know is not there. Holding up his shirt to my breasts, I walk gingerly to the door and crack it enough to speak.

"Um… Marianne?" I call out.

Her eyes come up to the door, startling me. "Yes ma'am, I'm here. Are you okay?" Her voice holds concern that I wish I could feel would help me. But, she's under his instruction, his payroll. King's, not mine.

"I think you forgot a bra…and some undies," I say, hopefully.

Marianne's eyes turn timid. "Mr. King instructed me to provide you with only a dress, ma'am."

I lick my lips. "Okay… but woman to woman, I need a bra-"

I recoil away from the crack in the door as I hear Xavier speak to her in the background, and she turns back to me. "Miss, hurry! Mr. King is on his way."

I turn with a frustrated groan and pull the dress on. It's slinky, hugs my breasts and hips tight, and hangs in a draping pattern to my ankles. Running my hands over it I bite back a moan, it feels expensive. More expensive than I've ever had a chance to wear before. I run my fingers through my hair as a surge of panic races through me.

I rip open the door and see Marianne and Xavier turn and look at me. "Bathroom!" I half shout as I breeze by them.

Not thinking, I rush out and straight into the master bathroom before stumbling to a quick stop, my eyes flicker around observing the expansive, tasteful area. I hadn't been this deep in here before as I only used it the one time this morning in the dark. But now, I walk further in, seeing a feminine vanity to the right that's completely stocked with everything you could think to have.

I run to it, grabbing up a paddle brush and raking it through my hair and wincing at the snags. Looking down, I sort through the array of lip colors that are on display in individual holders and snag simple gloss and smear it on, giving my lips a little smack. Then I run into the toilet closet and relieve myself quickly, washing up in the sink with a hand towel I found in a drawer.

I cannot fucking believe this is happening to me.

Standing there for a second, I contemplate a shower. But considering I've already passed my allotted time, I give myself another anxious once over; other than the fact that my heavy breasts aren't supported by a bra, I look pretty good.

In a fit of vanity I brush out my brows and just generally fuss over my appearance. Suddenly the bathroom door opens, and I startle with the wand at my brow, seeing King walk in. He's in dress shoes, black slacks, white button up shirt that's undone and a tie that's also undone, the two pieces hanging down enticingly. Holding a note pad and a pen in his hand.

My hand lowers as he makes his way in slowly, wondering how upset he is with me.

Our eyes meet in the mirror and I put the wand down on the vanity, keeping my eyes averted. My heart races as he makes his way to me, pressing his front to my back, and I'm hit with another wave of desire. But this time its laced with vulnerability that for some odd reason, heightens my want for him. I peek through the mirror and see him reach for me, making me turn to face him.

Stumbling slightly, I hurriedly wrap my fingers around the vanity behind me and hang on.

King tilts my head up to meet him, but I keep my eyes downcast, pinned to his neck. "Look at me," he says, but I can't.

"Are you angry with me?" I say in a small, hurt voice.

Staying silent he steps into me, causing my pulse to race at the feel of his hard body molding into my breasts. The vanity presses hard into my buttocks and I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, willing myself to hold my attitude in check. My eyes flit up to him and when they clash with his I swallow hard, seeing a harder tint to him than I'm used to.

Even the air is still. I can't breathe.

"King, please say something," I plead, feeling my heart rate speed up as his blue eyes stare into my soul. He dips his head, bringing his lips to my ear.

"Nah. I don't think talking's the way to go with you." He runs his nose along my jaw, making me tilt my head back. My lips purse slightly as my lids lower, wanting him to kiss me. Wanting him to touch me. When no touch comes, my eyes snaps open, seeing him regarding me quietly. He hands me the pad and pen. "Write your mother a letter, in your very distinct handwriting, and tell her you're okay and tell her that we're getting married."

"But I'm not okay."

His eyes pierce mine. "That may be true, but you're going to do it anyway."

Seeing he's unwavering stance, I snatch up the paper and pen and slam it down on the vanity, writing a short and to the point letter. I sign it with a flourish, turning and holding it to him. He takes it and then grabs my wrist, pulling me off after him. When we breach the threshold of the bedroom, he holds the letter to Xavier.

"Deliver this to Ms. Brookes right away."

"Yes, sir." He turns on his heels and departs, leaving King and I alone.

I pad along in my bare feet after him as Sweetie weaves between our feet, meowing. "King, what are we doing?" I mumble, but he's silent, pulling me along after him down the hallway and the staircase.

When we enter into the dining room my jaw drops, seeing another beautiful set of floor to ceiling windows that is the obvious focal point of the room. It's dusk, and the stars are twinkling beautifully against the pink and lavender of the sky. Tightening his hand on mine, he pulls me over to the dining room table.

Letting me go, he pulls out a mahogany chair next to what I presume is his seat at the head of the rectangular table. Wordlessly I sit, not knowing what to say. Because I nailed him good in his dick earlier, and what do you say to a person after you do that? More to the point, why do I fucking care?

He's holding me hostage.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I've went without breakfast or lunch in a self-induced torture, because it's not like he's going to let me go because I'm refusing to eat.

He sits at the head of the table and begins to pour us both a glass of red wine, still not saying a word. My heart begins to race again.

"King-"

"We're ready for our food please, Marianne," King calls out dismissively.

As she departs the dining room, we sit in silence while he keeps his gaze averted from me. And even though I'm technically the one wronged here, my feelings are hurt.

"Okay!" I say through gritted teeth. I look at him anxiously then work to make my tone soft, tilting my head and casting my eyes to the table. "Okay.. . I'm sorry for kicking you. I was just upset. "

He doesn't acknowledge my apology, and it stings. We're both quiet as Marianne bring us our food, setting it down on the placemat in front of me. It's a beautifully poached salmon with a lemon butter dill sauce with wild rice and spinach. But I can't move. I can't do anything until I hear King's nice voice. "You'd be upset too if someone took you against your will. I'm acting out be-because," my eyes flicker, "I'm stressed. I'm c-confused. I don't know what to think. This is a lot that I'm trying to p-process."

I feel trapped eating ramen noodles, can't he see that this is a million times more serious than that?

Still nothing, but his clenched fist relaxes, however, there's a hard set to his features that's currently unmovable.

Appealing to his sympathetic nature isn't working very well. I know then, that the damage is done.

He's decided to keep me despite my temper, my attitude. My fight. His decision is made, and from the looks of it, has been made for quite a while. Instinctively I know that there's nothing I can say or do to convince him to let me go.

"Eat," he says. But I stay unmoving in my seat.

I take a sip of my wine, then another. "Can I please just-"

"No." He doesn't wait for me before putting a bite of salmon in his mouth, chewing slowly. My eyes fill with tears I blink away.

"What did I do to-" I jump in my seat a little as he clears his throat hard, startling me.

I purse my lips, sensing that he isn't in the mood to talk. My lips tremble, trying to find a way to make this right. My mind races, thinking back on all of our office meetings and the various interactions we've had. Especially the meeting we had where he treated me with such care and consideration when I showed up sick to his office.

The look in his eyes when he told me Christopher didn't value me, and the entire time he was gathering things for his household that I loved obviously speaks to the character traits of a good man. So, why go to such lengths to abduct someone?

Seeing I've been quiet for a bit of time and he's still eating and ignoring me I sniff hard and hang my head, bringing up a hand to wipe a tear away. I don't like his anger. It's not like mine. I don't feel turned on by this. Not like how he is with me.

I bring up my eyes to look at him, but he doesn't spare me a glance.

"Please don't be mad at me," I say, seeing he's still not budging I hang my head lower, and dig my nails into my arm.

I bring a shaky hand up to my fork and pick it up, biting back a sob as I take a very small mouthful of salmon then wash it down with the entirety of my wine to get rid of the sawdust taste. It's not enjoyable. Not with this chasm between us. We eat for long minutes in silence, and I barely can manage a thank you to Marianne who pours me a second glass of wine from a small clear decanter before putting it off to the side.

"You're welcome, ma'am." She shifts to pour King what I presume is a scotch from another decanter, and I tighten my lips as the ice clinks against the glass, magnifying the silence between us.

Long minutes pass, and I begin to feel a little woozy, and it causes me to spiral in my thoughts.

What can I do to make it right? I can't go back in time and erase the events that have led us to this moment, but I can't ignore the fact that I'm being held against my will either. I flick my eyes up to see him finally looking at me, his eyes boring into me so deep that I flush.

I swallow my mouthful of food, fighting against the lightheaded feeling hard, wishing he would talk to me.

I continue to flip through memories of all the interactions we've had so far, every monthly meeting, our impromptu lunch date, him avenging my honor against Christopher. Him letting me live out my feminine rage as I acted a complete fool fucking up Christopher's apartment, and then the look on his face when I kicked him in the balls.

I put my fork down and wrap my hands around my torso, fighting against the wave of shame I feel.

Biting back a sob, I push back my seat and stand up. I grab the chair with a hand when I sway hard, but I determinedly push myself between him and the table, squirming my way onto his lap.

King sits back, giving me room and takes me into his arms, hauling me tight against him and rotating me so I drape across his lap. I snuggle my way deeper into him, hearing him cut off a groan as I fist my hands into his shirt and sniff against his neck, pressing my lips against his skin. Wrapping my arms around his chest, I curl my hand around his shoulder and focus on his chest rising and falling under me .

The warmth of him.

King continues to eat and I feel every swallow he takes against my lips, but he doesn't move to touch me other than to make sure I don't topple over and hit the floor. I sniff again, and the next time his hand comes up with his fork I snatch his wrist, making him drop the food back onto his plate messily. He pauses, and I ignore the fact I might have made him even more upset, and continue to focus on the relaxing feel of his chest rising and falling steadily against me.

His heartbeat thrums strongly against my breast.

After a minute he scoops up another bite on his fork, and when he raises his arm, I slap at it again. "No," I say, stubbornly. Pressing my face so hard into him that I can feel his blood beating in the vein in his neck. "No," I soften my voice.

King's head turns as he addresses the staff. "Leave us," he bites out sternly, making me startle in his lap.

A second later I hear the security leave at the gentle sound of the snick of the door clicking shut and the next thing I know he's snatching me back by my hair. I whimper, my eyes watering at the vicious movement. However, I don't even attempt to reach back and coax him to soften his touch. I want him like this.

He looks down, meeting my eyes. After a second, he leans down pressing his lips to mine in a soft kiss. He pulls away. "I don't want you upset with me. And I certainly don't want you so upset that you feel the need to act out. I will be honest with you: I have every intention on making you my wife. And as much as I'd like to afford you time to get used to me, and your new role, this is not a luxury I am comfortable with affording you because I care about you entirely-" his eyes narrow, "entirely too much. You desperately need the protection of my name and reputation. I will not sit idly by while you sit vulnerable like a deer in headlights."

My heart is just hammering away in my chest, my throat swells up, and I am suddenly incapable of speech even if I wanted to talk. I'm not even certain breathing is easy at this point.

"Open your mouth," he says, pinning me with his eyes. "You're going to finish the rest of your food." He reaches forward to slide my plate closer to him, and then works to load the fork.

I blink, parting my lips just like he commanded with that familiar heat that's always simmering between us burning low in my core. In the back of my head I'm aware I'm feeling... something. Not quite butterflies, not quite understanding. I'm confused and out of sorts.

Why don't I want to talk?

His bicep moves against the back of my head as he moves, and a second later I feel the fork sliding over my bottom lip, scraping along my tongue, tilting the food in my mouth. While I chew he sips his scotch, and for some strange reason I am utterly mesmerized by every fucking thing this man is doing: the way he licks his lips after he drinks, how his throat convulses on a swallow, the smell of him.

It's rich, spicy, warm.

I press my nose into his neck, trying to get deeper. "Thank you," I say, feeling like the words are hard to get out, coming from deep down inside me. But I push hard. "I just want to-"

He stands up abruptly with me still in his arms, the action forces me to cut my words off.

Though I'm not really sure what I was trying to say, anyway. Tilting my head back I study the ceiling as he walks. His muscular body moves against mine, and everything spins almost as if I'm on a ride at a theme park. We push through a door on the other side of the fireplace, the paintings and dimmed lighting pass in a blur down a hallway I haven't seen yet, looking so pretty.

The glass windows morph into solid walls with dimly lit paintings that whiz by, which turns into a room. I hear men's voices, garbled around me. Then King's looking down at me again but this time he's speaking, which makes me so happy. I smile at him, elated he's not mad anymore.

"Say 'I Do,' baby," he says.

My brow arches and I giggle, because it's funny. What am I doing?

"Oh, I do?" I grin up at him, thinking he's so handsome it's not fair. "Blue sky's smiling at me…" I sing.

Reaching up to trace his brow, I feel my hand is held still and then something happens that takes my breath away; the most magnificent smile crosses his face, one I've never seen, before he bends down to seal his lips over mine.

I'll never forget it.

King smiles as he lingers just a bit to rub his lips against mine. Not able to help it I giggle, because it tickled and I think he did it that way because he knows I like soft kisses. I sigh as his tongue licks along the inside of my bottom lip, just lightly pressing to part my lips before touching my tongue whisper soft.

I make a small sound, trying to follow him back up as he pulls away but I can't. My head is just too heavy. Before I know what's happening, everything goes black.

The next thing I know there's blue everywhere. I moan, feeling like I'm being laid down in a fluffy cloud.

"Holy shit. Am I in heaven?" I breathe, but I don't hear anything but King chuckling. And feel nothing but the nicest, coolest, comfiest sheets I've ever had against my skin.

As I roll over I purr at the feel of the sheet rubbing against my nipples making me aroused. I reach out a hand, grabbing for the source of the warmth close by on the other side of the bed and tug.

"Stay," I whisper, digging my nails in. I heave a deep sigh as the warmth envelopes me, but it's not enough. I moan, wanting to roll my entire body into it. "More." Giggling, I wrap my legs around the heat, nestling as deep as I can get. "That's better," I say, letting myself drift off. "I'm finally in my happy place."

A comforting pressure against the side of my head seals the deal and I yawn, completely content for the first time in my life.

My eyes flutter open and I moan softly, adjusting to the stillness that's settled in the room. It's quiet, and the cool air is perfectly balanced with the heat against my cheek. My fingers flex against soft chest hair. Aware King is in the bed with me, I just lay there for a second trying to get my bearings.

What happened last night?

Blinking my eyes, I take stock of the here and now.

My head is currently resting on King's broad, hard, naked chest. My arm is thrown across his torso and my leg is hiked up on him and, flexing my thigh, I can feel he's semi-erect even in sleep. My skin sizzles, feeing he's naked and pressed against every inch of me. We both are, however, the covers shield us from the room. My arm is cinched over the sheet and my hair hangs loose and wavy, flowing down my arm and across his torso. Sweetie is curled up on his stomach, with her little kitty head tucked under her arm.

I peek up, seeing him sleeping quietly, deeply, with his head turned away from me.

He's so warm, looks so peaceful.

My heart begins to pound as my mind races, trying to remember last night. I don't remember much after we sat down for dinner other than sitting in his lap and then feeling like I was floating on a cloud before being wrapped in the softest, warmest cocoon before… that's it.

That's all I can remember.

I sigh, peeling my cheek off his skin. Not able to help myself, I smile at the feel of it before sitting up and holding the sheet to my breasts. I look over at him again. The intimacy I've shared with this man so far is way more than I've ever had with Christopher. With Christopher, we barely touched in bed aside from the rare occasion we'd have sex, and even though I'm not used to being so close to another person, it doesn't make me uneasy.

Which ironically, makes me uneasy.

My brows furrow at the thought that we fucked last night and I didn't know.

Gasping, I thrust my hand between my legs and press my fingers against my vagina, searching before sighing with relief as I feel nothing. I'm dry, and there's no pain. So, he didn't take advantage of me while I was apparently knocked out.

I pause as disappointment fills me, shortly followed by irritation at being disappointed.

I'm not supposed to be disappointed that this man didn't fuck me while I wasn't coherent last night. And by the way, why the hell can't I remember anything? I glance back over at him, feeling my face settle into an expression of disbelief as a crazy thought hits me. Was I drugged?

Did King actually have the nerve to drug me? Why? Would he actually have the audacity? I throw him a side eye before deciding yes, he would.

Because I'm here, aren't I?

Swinging over the edge of the bed, I realize I can't pull the sheet around me the way it's tucked into the mattress so I run naked with Sweetie on my heels, ignoring our napkin just hanging out in its frame on the mantle, pass through the door and into the main bedroom where I see a simple day dress laid over King's bed. Snatching it up I make my way into the bathroom and turn the lights on. Pausing once again at the lavish architecture of the space, I take a second to admire it before stepping into the shower and take my time washing up. Godddd, it's way better than Sensa could ever hope to be. I take my time, really pampering myself with all the expensive products.

Drying off I go to the vanity, fixing my hair and then moisturizing my body, not wanting to be ashy.

"Aw Sweetie, you don't want to eat this," I coo softly to Sweetie who's trying to lick lotion off my legs. I push her head away gently.

I go to put on my dress and then pause, seeing that I once again am without underwear. I sling the dress over my arm, padding out of the bathroom and into the closet finding what's obviously my side, and spy a feminine, ornately carved dresser. Sweetie jumps atop the dresser and I pat her head.

At the thought of besting him I walk gleefully to it, tugging the first one determined to find a bra. It doesn't move. I tug again on a scowl and try the other ones, sucking air through my teeth at the fact that I can't open any of the drawers.

He's locked the freaking dresser?

Is this man for real right now?

"He deserves to be knocked upside his head," I whisper to Sweetie who just blinks lazily at me.

Huffing out a breath, I turn and stomp to the clothes that are hanging and pull down a purple robe. Cinching it around me tightly, I walk out the doors and smack dab into Xavier. I eye him with irritation. Why King has this big ass house, and so many staff when he's only one person is just beyond my comprehension. I plan on having a talk with him about if he volunteers or donates to charity.

All his money should not be wasted on extra staff when he could be doing so much more with it. I won't be held prisoner by a rich asshole. That'd be the icing on the cake for me.

"Ma'am," Xavier greets me politely.

"Where's Marianne?" I demand, tapping my foot impatiently .

"She's in the laundry area, ma'am."

"Okay, can you please take me to her? I need her."

"Yes, Mrs. King. Follow me."

I roll my eyes at the delusion, storming after him. "You know just because you call me Mrs. King, doesn't make me Mrs. King."

"Yes, Mrs. King."

I blow out an irritated breath. Because all I need is a bra, not to play games.

After a couple minutes where I ask myself if the bra is even worth it, we turn the corner into an expansive laundry area and I blanch, seeing not just Marianne, but two other maids pressing and starching suits, steaming tablecloths, and packing away what looks like curtains.

All three of them turn to me. "Good morning, Mrs. King."

I pause on a deep breath and hold a palm up, just done with the whole Mrs. King thing. It's not funny.

"Marianne, I need in my dresser. I need a bra. Panties." My eyes search her grey ones, seeing them widen before a light flush enters her face.

"Uhm, Ma'am I-I… I won't be able to."

I tighten my lips speaking through gritted teeth. "And why the hell not?" My nostrils flare as I take in a deep breath.

I can do it. I can be calm.

"Permission to speak to you in private, Mrs. King?" she requests. We stare at each other for a second and I see nothing but respect in her demeanor, no teasing.

"Okay, but stop calling me that!" I turn and walk back out the door, seeing Xavier standing there stoically. "Please leave Marianne and I alone for a moment."

Xavier nods then walks to the end of the hallway, resuming his stance with his arms folded in front of him. I turn to Marianne and heave what I would call a soul soothing sigh before giving her a sweet smile. "Marianne, I need a bra, and I need panties. Woman to woman."

"Mrs. King-"

"It's Ms. Brookes."

She fights back a grin as she takes in my cheeky response. I don't care how many people call me Mrs. King, I won't be deluded into thinking this is normal.

"I cannot open your drawer for you. Not yet." She wets her lips and then takes a step back with wide eyes as if she's nervous that I'm going to do something to her.

My eyes widen and I soften my voice. "Oh, Marianne, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want some underwear."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. King, but Mr. King has told me that I can't unlock your dresser drawers yet."

"Why the hell not?" I fold my arms and scowl. I know his staff is in on it. I just know they are.

"B-Because, Ma'am, he says you can have access to your drawers when you earn it."

Whoa .

Rage unlike any fills me, but I also feel a fission of arousal race through my veins at the prospect of earning anything from King.

"Earn it, huh?" I scrunch my nose, feeling a renewed rebellion in my spirit. Marianne eyes me with renewed interest. "Marianne," I tilt my head. "Where's the kitchen? I need a pitcher of water."

Marianne looks at me and a slow smile fills her face, letting me know that she's on my side. "Come with me ma'am." She turns on her heel and strides out of the laundry room and into the hallway.

When we walk into the expansive kitchen I smile with absolute glee as I stand there filling a pitcher under the spout. "Marianne? "

"Yes, ma'am."

"I need you to distract Xavier." I fold my arms and lean my hips against the porcelain sink.

"Yes ma'am."

We giggle together, sharing a secret and shared sisterhood. We part ways at the bedroom where she calls Xavier away and I march into my blue bedroom.

Tossing the water into King's face.

"Time to wake up."