King

I can’t imagine what the fuck could possibly be so important that it interrupts a moment like the one we were just having. I’m about to find out, though. I’ll bring her the phone, but I’m not leaving when she makes the call. Women don’t think of phone calls when they’re naked in my arms—at least, I never thought they did until now. Certainly no one has ever admitted to it, anyway. It’s kind of an ego crusher that I didn’t have Holland’s complete attention.

“Sir?” Sebastián’s voice comes from the door of my bedroom, where I’m just about to rummage through Holland’s purse for her phone.

“Sebastián, what the fuck are you doing here?” I turn, and he averts his eyes when he answers me.

“You couldn’t be reached by phone, and there is a serious situation going on in Miami,” he says, staring at the floor. I don’t know why he feels the need to look away. This is hardly the most compromising position he’s found me in. Sebastián has been with me for . . . well, for as long as I can remember. He knows more about me than anyone on earth.

“Sebastián, do I look like I give a fuck about what’s happening in Miami? Handle it already,” I bark, but he holds his ground, looking me directly in the eyes.

“I can’t handle this one. Multiple deaths require the club owner's presence. The police want to speak directly to you.”

Fuck. That’s all I need, cops running around my club, investigating multiple murders.

“What the hell happened, and how many people are dead?” I ask, dropping Holland’s purse onto the bed and heading to my closet to dry off and get dressed.

“Six. Two women and four men, all gunned down in the VIP club.”

Now that information stops me in my tracks. VIPs killed in my Miami club . . . that is extremely bad for business in so many ways. I can’t even fathom the repercussions.

I grab the closest thing within my reach, which happens to be one of two stupid crystal letter K bookends that Crystal gave to me for my birthday. I hurl it across the room. Sebastián ducks when it shatters into a million pieces against the wall next to him. He knows it’s not personal. He’s dealt with my temper for years.

“I’ll have the jet ready for you in fifteen minutes,” he says calmly, as if I hadn’t just lost my shit. I grunt something inaudible and enter my closet to dress. The fucking universe is screwing with me tonight. I just wanted to spend an evening with Holland, and instead, I’ve had interruption after fucking interruption.

I drag my fingers through my wet hair and make my way back to the bathroom when I’m dressed to tell Holland I have to abandon her. Fucking gang bangers probably shot up my club, and now I have to fly to Florida to deal with cops. This is absolutely the last thing I want to be doing right now.

I open the door see my beauty patiently waiting exactly where I left her just a few minutes ago. My cock twitches and my chest aches when her innocent, gentle eyes connect with mine. Just one step inside the bathroom, and I have to grip the doorknob, drop my chin to my chest, and take a deep breath.

“King?” she says, her voice laced with concern. Great. She must have heard the glass breaking.

“I’m really sorry, Holland, but there’s an emergency at my club in Miami. It’s very serious, and I have to handle it personally. I’d like you to stay until I get back, though, if you will.” She fidgets on the seat of the tub before nodding in agreement. I expected some sort of negative reaction—a few sarcastic words, or at least a question or two—but she says nothing. Crystal would have given me the third degree, demanding to know what exactly happened and where I was going to stay in Miami. Not Holland, though. She doesn’t show any signs of annoyance. In fact, I could swear she looks a little relieved, and that makes me uncomfortable.

“So you’ll stay?” I want her to stay, but something tells me she’s not going to be here when I get back.

“How long will you be gone?” she asks.

“No more than twenty-four hours,” I say. She shifts her eyes to the left a fraction and back. I knew it . . . she’s leaving. If it were anything other than a murderer, I’d pack her up and take her with me, but this could be dangerous. No matter what she says to me now, I know she won’t be here when I come home.

“I have practice tomorrow, but we could get together later when you get home,” she says, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. I round the tub and reach over the edge to rub her shoulders and softly bite her earlobe.

“I’ll be counting the minutes, sweet Holland.” I breathe into her ear and feel her smile against my lips. That’s better.

“I can have Sebastián give you a ride home tonight if you want, but I like the idea of you sleeping in my bed.”

“I’ll stay tonight then.”

“Mmm, good. I’ll text you. Keep your phone close and let me know if you change your mind.” She nods and I slide my hand across her delicate neck to her chin and guide her mouth to mine. Sliding my tongue between her lips, I kiss her, no holds barred. I want her to think of me and nothing else while I’m gone. I already know that’s unlikely, but I do my best to make it as memorable as possible anyway.

A knock at the door quickly switches my boiling blood from desire to anger. Fucking Sebastián is trying to rush me, dammit, and just when Holland has relaxed. The arms that were protectively clutching her knees are now roaming around my neck, her fingers threading through my hair, and when I open my eyes, the sight of her perfect breasts bobbing just above the water has me thinking homicidal thoughts regarding Sebastián.

“You should go,” she says, breathless and flushed.

“I don’t fucking want to.” I growl and slide my hands down her chest and over her slick breasts, and I cover her mouth with mine again. My God, she has jurisdiction over me. My business is my life, and a terrible tragedy is going down in one of my establishments, and all I can think about is peeling off my clothes and climbing back into the water with Holland to worship her. The knock comes again, firmer and more insistent this time, and I seriously consider opening the door and slamming Sebastián’s head in it to make him stop.

“Maybe you should answer that,” she says with her lips brushing against mine, eyes closed, still gripping my hair.

“Yeah, I have to go,” I say, sighing deeply, and I untangle her fingers from my hair. Like pulling off a bandage, I step away quickly and start for the door. I’ll never get out of here if I don’t just get on with it.

“I’ll see you when I get home tomorrow,” I say without turning around. I pull open the door roughly, just enough to slip out. I know Sebastián wouldn’t be trying to sneak a peek at Holland, but I’m not risking an accidental sighting.

I shoot my short, fifty-year-old, muscular head of security a death glare, but he doesn’t look away. Sebastián is more than a little aware that he is the levelheaded one in this situation, and with that knowledge, he stands his ground.

“I’m fucking coming, Sebastián,” I hiss.

“Yes, sir. I see that,” he snaps back. The only man on earth who will stand up to me quickly turns on his heel, heading down the hall, carrying my overnight bag like we’ve just had a casual, friendly exchange. After a few frustrating, pissed off seconds of standing alone in the hall, I roll my eyes and follow him down to the parking garage.