Lying down on his bed, Edmund absentmindedly tossed the key in the air and caught it, observing it before tossing it again, until room service arrived at nine on the dot. He stuffed it in his pocket and eagerly started on his omelet with a side of bacon, when someone knocked on his door. 

He checked his food, but nothing seemed to be missing at first glance. Slightly irritated at having to abandon his breakfast after just one bite, he headed to open the door, and froze. 

Ed lifted a brow, watching the man who’d just knocked on his door with a certain degree of amusement and also some suspicion.

“May I come in?” asked the handsome blond guy, wearing an impeccable suit, hair neatly combed and parted.

Ed had spent one whole month asking to meet Desmond King, without success. He showed a strange little key to his assistant and a day later, the man himself was in front of his suite.

He stepped aside. 

“Please do. I was having breakfast. Shall I call for anything?”

"I'm good, thank you." The man walked in, and took the room in with one glance. "Nice suite."

"It is."

"Great. Let's consider the small talk over, shall we?" 

Edmund chuckled.  

It wasn't the first time he'd met Desmond; they'd come across each other once or twice at a party, but they'd never interacted until now. Ed was suddenly delighted about that. The other guy was too calculating, his cold eyes taking in everything and analyzing it. It was lucky that he was dealing with Hester rather than her boss, after all.

"The key. May I see it?" he asked, ignoring Ed's gesture inviting him to sit.

Straight to the point, then. 

Edmund returned to his sofa and took another bite of his food. 

"No, I don't think so. Not until you tell me what it is." 

The omelet was delicious, although it was, sadly, not cheesy. Edmund had itched to ask for some cheddar on top, but remembering the way Hester had criticized him the other day, he'd stopped himself. Ordering off the menu blew. At least he had bacon on the side. 

"I'll need to see it to know that for sure," Desmond countered. 

Edmund knew that there was a distinct possibility that they might glare at each other until the end of time if he didn't give in. 

He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, removed the key, and held it up for about ten seconds, ignoring Desmond's outstretched hand. 

"There," said Edmund, stuffing it back in his wallet. "You've seen it." 

Desmond's jaw tightened. 

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law—isn't that the American saying? This stays in my hands."  

"You should take better care of it. Put it somewhere safer." 

"Oh?" Ed asked. 

"Mine is in a safe." 

So, Desmond had one of those, did he?

"Tell me what it is, and I'll see that it's suitably guarded." 

Desmond started to pace the room, slowly, like a wolf circling an enemy. "So, you're Malcolm's nephew?"

"That's right."

"It's my understanding that Malcolm had many nieces and nephews. I'm going to have to verify that he gave this to you."

Desmond was starting to get on Ed's nerves.

"We seem to have started on the wrong foot. You're under the impression you can waltz into my suite and run the show. Now, here's the deal. Given the fact that I have no idea what this thing is, and your assistant blanched when I showed it, I'm guessing it's secret. You either tell me what my uncle gave me, or I'll look into it, and shove everything I find under a journalist's nose for fun. How about that?"

Desmond's eyes were a snake's, zeroing in on its prey before pouncing. Remembering that he was in the US, Edmund wondered if the man was going to pull a gun and shoot him or some shit.

Instead, Desmond forced a smile.

"You're right. We did start on the wrong foot."

He lifted a slim folder he held under his left arm, and slid it on the small table in front of Edmund.

"What's this?"

"An NDA. Tight and comprehensive. I am going to have to check the provenance and that Malcolm give the key to you, and no one else. But if it all checks out, it makes you a legatee of a membership in one of the world's most exclusive clubs. I'll take you there tonight. As long as you sign on the dotted line."

Edmund eyed the stack of paper suspiciously, as he would have any document.

"I'm going to have to get my lawyer to check that."

Desmond lifted a brow. "You don't know your way around an NDA?"

"I do know how to survive in a world of assholes and predators."

Every word had meaning in a contract with a man like King.

"Fair enough. Get it checked. I'll do my work on the key. Meet me in the lobby at eight."

Edmund didn't think he'd ever been told what to do like that, not even by Cici. He didn't think he'd ever disliked a man as quickly and thoroughly as he did Desmond King. They were too similar to get along. Ed was glad they lived on different continents.

"I have something to do tonight," he lied, simply to irritate Desmond. 

"Cancel it. We’re doing this tonight at eight, or not at all." 

Jesus, the guy was a serious piece of work. 

"All right. I'll see what I can do." 

Thankfully, he wouldn't have too many issues rescheduling his imaginary plans.