Just a King: A Secret Romance, page 1
Just a King
A Secret Romance
Tabatha Kiss
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Excerpt: Just a Touch
Also by Tabatha Kiss
About the Author
Copyright © 2019 by Tabatha Kiss
All Rights Reserved.
Cover Design by Cover Me Timbers
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This novel contains explicit descriptions of erotic and sexual acts that some may find offensive, including perverse adult language.
All characters are 18+ years of age and all sexual acts are consensual.
Reader discretion advised.
tabathakiss.com
1
Kingston
What a depressing night.
Here I am, standing alone on the roof of the Botsford Plaza Hotel in Las Vegas, a spot that was once filled with possibility now shines with the dullness of patterns repeating through eternity. I’m not sure which part bothers me more, that or the alone part.
Claire was supposed to be here with me. We’d made the plans in advance. I was to fetch her from her dorm on campus, drive to the private airstrip just outside of Stanford, and within a few hours, we’d waltz into here together dressed to the nines with smiles and promises of a new chapter of the Botsford legacy.
I’d even bought her a new dress for the occasion, though that was more out of necessity. Claire doesn’t come from vast wealth like I do but I’m not the type to hold that against her. I was happy to be Prince Charming to her Cinderella, lavish her in gifts and parade her around on my arm but that, apparently, wasn’t enough for her.
I knew something was off when she opened the door in a sweatshirt and jean shorts. Her roommate was there, pretending not to pay attention from her desk across the room.
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore, Kingston.”
And that was that. I had my questions. She had her answers, mostly the standard clichés, but she was sincere and truthful all the same.
We’re too different. I agree.
We can still be friends. I highly doubt that.
There’s another man. Most likely.
I added that last one myself. I’ve no proof other than a gut feeling, though it has rarely steered me wrong before.
She handed me the dress still in its box, closed her door with a dull thud, and I rode to the private airstrip alone to make it to my father’s annual autumn party on time.
If I’m truly honest with myself, I feel relief. From the moment her door latched, and I took my first steps away from Claire Daniels, I’ve felt a weight slip off my shoulders. Standing here, gazing down at this fluorescent kingdom, I realize why.
She wasn’t meant to be queen.
She was a pretty face, a decent conversationalist, but what we had lacked passion. There was no mystery to her. No layers to peel away and no excitement to be found once I had. I wish her well in finding a man who will look at her the way I wanted to. I truly do.
I balance a cigarette between my lips and raise my lighter, quickly blocking the desert wind with my other hand as I light it. As I take my first drag, I hear a subtle scoff in the corner on my right.
“You’re not going to leap to your death now, are you?”
I turn my head toward the voice. Fierce yet feminine.
My eyes wander the darkened nook and I wonder how I hadn’t noticed her sitting there before.
A girl at first glance, very much a woman at second. She sits casually along the bench with legs tightly crossed. The subtle lines of a toned calf peek out from the slit of her skirt and connect to tall, glittery high heels. Her dress appears black in the dark and hangs playfully off one porcelain shoulder. Her brunette hair is thick and long but held together in a tight ponytail on the back of her head.
And her eyes. I can’t see them, but I know they see right through me.
I exhale, breath and smoke abandoned to the wind. “Hadn’t planned on it,” I answer.
“Good,” she says. “I’d rather not spend the next several hours being questioned by the morons at the Vegas PD.”
“I can see how that’d ruin a perfectly good evening.”
I extend my cigarette in her direction and she stands, giving me a decent view of her shape as she steps in my direction.
She’s shorter than I thought she was. Her forehead hits just beneath my chin though her petiteness doesn’t diminish her demanding presence in the slightest. Her dress, which I falsely identified as black before, is a deep blue. The same color as her big eyes.
She pinches my cigarette with an experienced hand and our fingers barely graze as she takes it and brings it to her lips. The cherry burns as she sucks it in and silently studies me beneath her long eyelashes.
I swallow.
“I didn’t know anyone else was up here,” I say.
She passes the cigarette back to me. I notice the red imprint of lipstick residue along the filter as I raise it to my mouth.
“Only so many places to hide around here,” she says.
I nod. “You too, huh?”
She focuses on the streets below. “I honestly can’t see the appeal.”
“Of what?”
“This.”
“Vegas?”
“Botsford Plazas.”
I smirk. “Oh?”
“Golden boys clubs,” she says with rolling eyes. “Made by the rich, for the rich, and to hell with anyone else.”
“That dress doesn’t exactly scream department store chic,” I say, offering her the cigarette again to show I meant it as peaceful banter.
She pauses, big eyes bouncing between it and me. After a second, she takes it and puffs it quickly. “I like to look good,” she says, gently flicking the ashes away. “Appearances matter in places like this.”
“Appearances matter everywhere.”
“Sad but true.” Her head tilts. “Do you know where the staff comes from?”
“Comes from?” I repeat.
“Trust fund kids. Each one of them down to the doorman. I spoke with them myself.”
I turn to face her, genuinely interested in the thought of her wandering around down there interviewing my brother’s staff. “Did you?”
“Where’s the diversity?” she asks. “Where are the students from the local colleges? People who could actually benefit from the opportunities here?”
“I suppose they aren’t interested in working here,” I say.
She scoffs. “Or their applications just happened to find their way to the bottom of the wastebasket.”
I graciously accept the peace cigarette again and take another long drag as I study her closer. The annoyance in her eyes is truly palpable. The casual posture. The sharp tongue.
She has no idea she’s talking to the CEO’s son.
I smile. “That’s an interesting suggestion.”
“I’ve got plenty more.”
“Such as?”
“Well, they’ve certainly got a lot to learn on how to market toward women.”
“Women?”
“Yes, those lumps men step over on their way to the top only to wave their hands and proclaim they did it all themselves.”
“Ahh.” I hold my smirk as we once again trade the cigarette back and forth. “Yes, I’ve heard of them.”
“They’ve got the bar in the lobby with dim lights and dartboards,” she says. “And that pathetic attempt at a fitness center.”
“Not a fan of free weights, are you?” I ask.
“They serve their purpose but there’s a noticeable hole in the collection when the lightest weight on the rack is twenty-five pounds.”
I nod, seeing her point. “Anything else?”
“Oh, give me a minute,” she says. “I’m just getting warmed up.”
I laugh as she takes a puff, admiring the curve of her cheek in the silence. As she extends the cigarette in my direction again, I take it in one hand and hold out the other.
“I’m Kingston,” I say, introducing myself.
“Botsford, yes,” she says, ignoring my hand. “I know who you are.”
My ego flutters. “Is that so?”
Her brow piques. “Don’t get too excited. It’s not a compliment.”
“And what exactly have I done to offend you?”
“Nothing to me.”
“Then, who have you been talking to, Ms...?” I let it linger, hinting for her name.
“I don’t actually do much talking.”
“Could have
fooled me.”
“I’m more of a listener,” she says. “You’d be surprised what a person can pick up at a place like this. Trade secrets. Office gossip.”
“Your name.”
“That, too.”
“What is it?” I ask.
She shows a sweet smile, but it doesn’t last. “I’m the least of your worries after tonight, Kingston. If I were you, I’d watch my back.”
I pause. “What do you mean?”
The door to the roof swings open and a woman pokes her head outside. She looks to be in her early thirties with bobbed hair and a dress that does say department store chic. After a few flustered breaths, she spots us by the edge and scolds the jezebel beside me.
“You’re not supposed to be up here.”
“Just getting some fresh air, Mildred.” She takes a step away from the railing. “Thanks for the smoke,” she says to me before walking away.
“Wait—”
She continues forward and my voice diminishes beneath the harsh clack of her high heels on the roof. The other woman glares at me for a second before turning and holding the door open for her. Her.
Who is this girl?
A scoff. “Smoking? Really?”
A wave of the hand. “Just the one.”
“Your father will lose it.”
“Let him.”
The door closes behind them, leaving me alone and blissfully whiplashed. I can’t recall the last time a conversation with a woman left me this breathless. I’m equally as stunned by her elegance and beauty as I am chilled by her words of warning.
If I were you, I’d watch my back.
I’ve no reason to believe it, nor reason to doubt. There’s always a reason to keep your cards close to the chest in the City of Sin.
I finish the last of my cigarette in silence, though it turned out to be far from the peaceful interlude it was meant to be.
Kingston. She said my name as if she’d said it a thousand times before. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. Would you believe that I feel guilty about it? Like I’d foolishly forgotten hers even though I’ve never seen her before in my life.
I look down at the flashing lights and speeding cars and crowded sidewalks. Could she be down there right now, gazing up at me as I think of her?
Or is she still here in the hotel, waiting for me to come find her?
Wouldn’t I like to find out?
I bound toward the stairs, quickly making my way off the roof onto the 30th floor. Another sprint to the elevator and I tap the call button to bring the car up to me. It might be faster to race down the stairs, but I’m already a bit winded from that cigarette.
I really should quit.
The elevator arrives. I step on, slapping the L button to take me down to the lobby. As the car falls steadily, I fix my hair and tweak the placement of my tie as I stare at myself in the golden walls.
10, 9, 8…
I take a breath to calm my nerves.
4, 3, 2…
The car settles at the bottom. I roll my shoulders back as the doors slide open.
A man stands outside the elevator blocking my path. He’s a full head taller than I am but carries the same brown hair, square jawline, and blue and gold tie as mine.
“Brother!” he says to me. “There you are.”
I look up at him and nod. “Drake,” I passively greet, fully intending to pass around him.
I do not have time for this.
I must find her.
Drake’s thick palm collides with my shoulder. “Hold on! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Here I am,” I say, pushing forward.
“Come to the roof with me for a smoke.”
“I’ve just had one.”
He grabs my arm this time. “Have another. We need to talk.”
I reluctantly fall back as he pushes me onto the elevator. He taps 30 on the wall and I use the last few seconds I have to scan the lobby for that blue dress…
The doors close. I exhale hard.
Dammit.
“Having a fun time?” my brother asks, his eyes on me in the mirrored walls.
I shrug a shoulder. “Not too bad.”
“I didn’t see that girl of yours out there tonight.”
“What girl?”
“You know, the one with the black hair,” he says with a laugh as he searches for his lighter.
I frown in confusion.
Oh, right. Claire.
I’ve already forgotten about her.
“She couldn’t make it,” I say, vague on the details.
“Bummer. So, listen…”
I flinch slightly, having heard that sudden change in pitch before. It’s always a bit of mundane small talk before my older brother throws down a So, listen… and ruins the casual chit-chat with a bit of bad news. He learned it from our father.
“Actually, Drake, I don’t really have time for—”
“Dad and I have discussed it with the board, and we all agree that you’re…” he wrinkles his nose, “a little too green for the Chicago market.”
My gut sinks. “What?” I ask.
“You’re graduating in the spring,” he says. “That’s great and we’re all very proud of you, but—”
“Dad promised me the Chicago location.”
“And you’ll get it someday, I’m sure, but for now we think someone more experienced would be better suited for it.”
“That’s bullshit.”
He smirks. “No, that’s business. Chicago’s a brand-new location in a surging neighborhood and we can’t risk a newcomer screwing that up, you know what I mean?”
“I’m not a newcomer,” I argue. “I’ve worked in this hotel as much as you have.”
“Which is why you were the first name I recommended when they asked who should take my place.”
I bite down. “You’re taking Chicago from me? And dumping me here?”
Drake laughs. “There’s no you or me here, Kingston. This isn’t personal. It’s all about the company.”
Bullshit.
I turn away from him, silently seething beneath the surface.
He pats my shoulder twice. “Come on now. Vegas isn’t all bad! Sure, it’s dated, but… nice, in its own way. Cut your teeth on somewhere more familiar and then we’ll revisit the idea in a few decades when I’m CEO.”
The elevator doors open on the 30th floor. Drake steps off, balances an unlit cigarette between his lips, and turns back to gawk at me.
“Chin up, little brother,” he says, still smirking. “It’s not the end of the world.”
I glare as I reach over to hit L.
“Not getting off?” he asks.
“No,” I say, letting the doors close.
It was my suggestion to build in Chicago. I found the up-and-coming neighborhood just waiting for a golden B in its skyline. It was my project, at least as much as I could claim it as a student on the outside, but Dad admired my initiative and promised me the reward. He said so himself.
But Drake couldn’t let me have this.
This one thing.
The elevator reaches the lobby again and my gut churns from the subtle change in momentum. As the doors slide open, a spark in my nerves wakes me up and I remember what I came down here for.
I scan the crowd of suit jackets and ballroom gowns, each one dripping with the kind of wealth that only a Beau Botsford party can attract. They aren’t drawn here for any other reason than to have secured an invite.
Perhaps golden boy’s club isn’t the worst descriptor imaginable.
I turn a corner toward the entrance and my heart skips twice.
She’s still here.
And even more beautiful beneath golden lights.
I wander through the crowd to get as close as I can. She stands between two people. The first I recognize as the woman who fetched her off the roof and the second…
