17. Your Majesty
Chapter seventeen
Your Majesty
S itting back, I give him a couple minutes to talk to me about the plan. What all this is really about. Seeing he's not forthcoming, I throw my hands up an on exasperated groan before pinning him with a hard stare.
“Make me understand,” I say, scooping up a bit of cobbler and holding it aloft. “Make this make sense to me. How did all this get started? You said this is the King Dynasty way, so did your dad do this to your mom? Your siblings do this, too?” I put a bite in my mouth and fight like hell to not moan because this is the best dessert I’ve ever had.
King continues to pierce me with his gaze silently as he takes his own bite.
“Wait.” My eyes go wide as another thought hits me. “Do you even have siblings, King?" I put my utensil down, pointing a finger at him. He continues to regard me quietly, patiently as he chews. "See? Yet another reason this shit makes no sense. I know nothing about you!” I tighten my lips, shaking my head as I turn back to my dessert.
He makes a soft sound in his throat before washing his dessert down with a swallow of whiskey. "It doesn't matter because you're not going to be living with my siblings, dealing with them on a day to day basis, or fucking them-"
Offended, my head recoils as I frown at him. "Jesus, why do you always have to be so crass? I never said anything about fucking anyone-"
“Are you done, my little demon?" he interrupts me. " Can I talk now?” King's smooth voice caresses over me like velvet and I glance at him out the side of my eye, not quite sure how I like my new nickname. Probably as much as he doesn't like being interrupted, which I continuously seem to do.
“Yes.” I take another bite and force myself to shut up.
“My parents, Maribel and Richard, have been married for thirty-eight years. I have a sister named Teresa who’s been married for three, and an absolute pain in the ass for a brother named Mason who is not in a relationship. I'm the oldest. My father is in real estate, and my mother was a maid when he met her. He was traveling for work when he saw her and brought her home for a whirlwind romance and wedding.”
"Yeah okay. Brought." I snort, making an air quotes gesture with my fingers. “Did she at least get to remember it?” I take another bite and glare at him.
It hits me then that I’m honestly pissed I didn’t get to plan our wedding. All this money and I couldn’t even get what I wanted? I keep my lips shut because that sounds real gold-diggerish like. Then another thought hits me; he snatched me up out of nowhere, so even if I was a gold digger, it’d kind of serve him right wouldn’t it.
I feel a smile cross my face at the prospect of spending a shit load of his money on something nonsensical just to see the look on his face.
“Oh God,” he grumbles. “What wicked thoughts are you thinking about now? It can’t be anything good, judging by the smile on your face."
“Nothing.” I clear my throat, snapping out of it.
“Does that bother you then?” King says softly. “That you can’t remember our wedding?”
I eye him, my gaze falling to his hand. “Probably about as much as it bothers you to have your hands messed with.”
King gets his own devilish smile. “Well if that’s the case, let’s get married again.” He snatches up my hand and kisses it, working his way up my wrist. “And again.” Kiss. “And again.” Kiss.
I flush, my eyes going wide as I pull my hand away. “Okay!” I say shakily, feeling my lips tremble. “Focus please.” I admonish with a tone I can’t say I really feel. Picking up my napkin, I throw it at him playfully. “Finish telling me about it.”
We've finished with our dessert, and our food is brought out. He waits until the domes are removed, and Marianne leaves the dining room again before he talks.
His eye flicker across my face before he picks up his fork. “So, about two-hundred and sixty years ago or so, when all the wealthy families in the country were making a name for themselves; some mafia, some oil tycoons, railroad, that sort of thing, mine became infamous for their jewelry trade. Requiring a lot of travel, as you can imagine.”
I can't.
I take the first bite and then moan in earnest. I don’t know who the chef is but they’re getting a personal thank you.
“Well one day, as the story goes, Jeremiah King, my thirteenth great grandfather, was in the Indies doing trade when he came across a woman he became enamored with. The family didn’t want to let her go, because she apparently was already promised to another and they’d paid the dowry already.”
Intrigued, I giggle. “Oh shit, sounds like drama.”
“Jeremiah kidnapped her in the dead of the night, left a diamond ring behind for her parents as payment, and forged papers to smuggle her across the continent. They had twelve children and were married for thirty-five years.”
I frown. “Wow.”
“So then it’s said that his siblings had a competition amongst the four of them to see if they could do the same thing. And the only stipulation was, it had to be true love, and you had to be able to provide for her a better life than the one she was leaving behind. Ironically, all the marriages were successful, and my family became one of the biggest and most successful in their sector of business which helped create the wealth it garnered. If you're interested, there are heavily detailed letters stored in my parents' library with accounts from the men and some of their wives." Sitting back, he eyes me carefully. "All the men credit their wives with being the reason for their success.”
“What else is new?” I snort, taking a swallow of my wine. “Women have been men’s backbones for eons.”
King smiles at me, making a shiver race up my spine. “This way of doing things in my family became so successful that it’s actually written up in a clause that those who do not acquire their wives this way will not be able to claim their inheritance.”
My jaw drops. “That’s fucked up!”
“For who?”
We engage in another staring contest. “For the women, you stupid man! ”
King tilts his head, giving me an interesting once over. “I actually think it's rather genius, because you want to know why it’s so successful?”
“Sure, enlighten me.” I give him a sarcastic look.
“Because in today’s modern world, in order to successfully abduct a person and not get caught, you have to treat that person in such a way as they don’t want to leave. Endear them to you. And well, when you already love that person, it shouldn’t be that hard of a concept.” His blue eyes bore into mine, rendering me mute. “You treat them good, and they won’t want to run, won’t want to tell. A bond is created that is special to only those two people.”
“It sounds psychotic, to be perfectly honest.”
“Be that as it may, we’ve only had one failure in all the years of my family implementing this strategy.”
“Oh yeah? What happened?”
“She killed him.”
My eyes narrow as his gaze thoroughly rakes over my face making me tense at what he might be thinking. I might be a wild card, but I’m not a murderer.
I slow clap. “Good for fucking her. He probably told her she couldn’t have her phone, or work.” Giving him a nasty look, I push my plate away and stand up. “I’m going to bed.”
As I walk away debating on whether or not I should step on his phone on my way out, he calls my name. “Isobel, you know I don't like you turning your back on me."
"Well, we can't always get what we want, can we?" I keep facing to the front.
King sighs a long exhale behind me before speaking once more. "Goodnight, Isobel, sleep well.”
I scoff, turning to finally face him and give him a little curtsey. "Yes, your majesty. "
Turning, I continue my journey out the dining room. I curl up with Sweetie on my bed where I proceed to get the worst sleep of my life with my bedroom door between us, because I didn’t invite him in, and he didn’t push to be let in. And to say that fucks with my head is an understatement.
What fucks with my head even more is that for the next two weeks he doesn't touch me, or try to join me in my bedroom. Why I want him to is beyond my comprehension, to be honest. He's left me in this house with nothing to do except go over food menus for the house, pick what we're having for dinner, watch TV, and sketch while he gets to work.
I've attempted to run on exactly six occasions, and am prevented from making it out the door each time by Xavier or Gustavo, depending on which one of them is with me. My attempts are feeble. The memory of King going crazier than me sobers me considerably; however, I've torn up both our bedrooms in a fit of desperation, and I've spent five dinners refusing to eat.
And every time I've refused dinner, he sits with me until I eat. Even if it takes until one in the morning. He also sits with me the next morning and forces me to eat breakfast, like a child. He ignores any request for my phone, or for me to leave the house.
When I asked if Fabian has enquired after me, he reminded me that my next meeting with the Italian chef isn't for another two weeks, same as when I meet with him. But two weeks hanging in limbo without much reassurance from King doesn't give a girl hope. Two weeks being in the presence of this charismatic, sexy, smoldering man with nothing but looks, spoken words, and respectful distance. It's utterly draining me .
I go to bed every night with my skin on fire, wanting him to join me, fuck me. Something. But he won't even kiss me. Won't make the first move.
And now that I've got a taste of what good sex is, of how his hands feel on me, and how his body feels against mine, I want more. Crave it. But goddamn him for doing this to me. How can I want to let my captor touch me? I can barely wrap my brain around the fact that I'm in this situation.
I keep thinking that one day he's going to come and say- "Ha, I was joking." - and tell me that this was all some sort of kinky game. But when I look down at the wedding ring on my finger that's obviously real and cost a fortune, I know better than to entertain those thoughts. No, this isn't a game at all and I shouldn't be deluding myself into thinking it is.
What's really killing me is that I wait all day for him to come home like a meek, desperate fifties housewife.
What fucks with my head even more? Is that if he let me loose this instant, and told me he wanted to date me, I'd go out with him despite everything that's just transpired between us. I spend my days with the wheels of my mind turning, driving me insane.
I need to stand up for myself, but how?