“Let me show you around.”
She wraps her hand around his arm again and leads him. She stops by Derrick and makes eye contact with his brother.
“You’re more than welcome to join the tour,” she says, her fingers trailing down the sleeve of his brother’s jacket.
“Pass,” Derrick replies.
“Suit yourself,” she says. “Besides, we’ll have all the time in the world to get acquainted.”
It’s the shortest tour he’s ever had. Isabella immediately takes him down a dark hallway with doors upon doors. Private rooms, he concludes. At the end of the hallway is a set of double doors with golden handles. She pulls out a golden key to unlock the doors and pushes them open, inviting him in.
“Would you like something to drink?” she purrs.
“Whiskey neat,” he answers.
“As you wish, my King.”
Funny. He thought it would feel more thrilling to hear someone say that to him but it doesn’t affect him at all.
Isabella shuts the doors and walks to a golden phone on a side table. She pushes an intercom button then spouts her order into it before returning to his side and leading him to a large round chair. She sits down first and pulls him by his hand to join her.
“Hmm…what do you think is a good way to get to know each other?” she asks playfully.
“I’m sure you already have something in mind,” he replies coolly.
Her eyes dared him to rise to the challenge, her lips even plumper, if that were possible when she leans in.
Just before her lips touch him, he turns his head a fraction and leans forward. Her lips brush his cheek briefly before she pulls back in surprise. There’s a fire behind those eyes.
His denial irritates her.
“Let’s save that for a better occasion,” he tells her, his fingers coming up to lightly brush against the softness of her cheek. His touch puts a smile back on her face.
Truth is, he didn’t do the kissing thing. Well…he didn’t kiss just anyone, that is. It’s been a long while but kissing is saved for someone he trusts. He hasn’t come across a woman he can trust even before Daisy, Jasmine’s mother.
A soft knock on the door has Isabella irritated again but he can see her reigning it back in. Her moods swing like a whip. They’re snapped and then recoiled just as quickly. He’ll have to tuck that piece of information away safely. If he has to be the one to take the fall, there’s no way she’ll be allowed to act this way with Jazzy. Neither would she be able to treat him as some pet on a leash.
“Come,” Isabella commands loudly, her hand tracing up higher on his thigh. It’s a possessive touch. One he’s never cared for.
“It must be your drink,” she informs him.
A moment later, the door opens and a tall beauty with caramel-colored hair that tumbles past her shoulders in waves walks in with a tray and his drink. She’s unsteady on her feet yet she’s only in flats. She’s also wearing a shorter version of the goddess outfit that he’s seen on some of the other women. Her big and round amber eyes lock onto his for just a brief moment before widening and then looking at Isabella.
“Ariana, have you gone daft?” Isabella snaps.
“Sorry, madame,” the beauty, Ariana, speaks as she slowly makes her way to the side of his seat.
She starts to bend to place his drink on the table and he can see the flawless skin of her cleavage.
“On your knees,” Isabella snarks. “You should know better.”
With that, the beauty straightens up, denying his eyes what they want. He sees her tightening her eyes for a second before slowly dropping down to her knees, careful not to spill anything.
It’s a sight to watch, that’s for sure.
“Your drink, sir.”
She slides the crystal tumbler onto the table quietly. He takes note of her long and slender fingers and sees a tiny tremble.
“Will you need anything else?” she asks, refusing to look neither at him nor Isabella, her eyes trained to the ground.
“Keep my guest entertained while I change, pet,” Isabella says. Isabella places another kiss to his cheek before getting up. “You can touch her if you want, but don’t take it too far. I don’t like someone else sampling my intended before I do.”
She gives him a half-smile before sauntering off somewhere. He wasn’t paying attention at this point but her words linger.
Her intended.
That’s going to take some getting used to.
Chapter Four
His eyes zero in on the woman on her knees beside his chair. She still hasn’t looked at him again. Her eyes focused downward but he catches her sway slightly. Her slender fingers immediately coming up to her temple.
“Are you not feeling well?” he asks out of curiosity.
She shakes her head but doesn’t verbally answer.
“You can stand up if you need to,” he tries to coax her into a conversation.
“I can’t,” she says barely above a whisper. “Madame hasn’t given me permission.”
A sub? She’s Isabella’s sub? What in the holy fuck! Now this game, he can play.
He looks her over again as if inspecting a new piece of art he’d like to acquire.
She’s thin with dark circles beneath the round eyes set upon her elongated face. She’s a beauty but she can be stunning. A true goddess even. It doesn’t look like she’s been cared for too well though and that piques his curiosity even more.
His eyes trail down her body and he sees the healing bruises on her knees.
“I’m telling you,” he commands.
She glances past him before her eyes settle back on his. Amber eyes with flecks of gold dust. They look lost and tormented. He recognizes what’s tumbling and twirling inside those dilated pupils. He’s all too familiar with this picture. Whoever she is, she’s high out of her fucking mind.
“Stand,” he commands. More out of annoyance now.
Such a fucking waste. No matter how beautiful a woman may be, the drugs will reduce that quickly. He knows from experience. Jasmine’s mother, as beautiful as she was, had chosen the money and the drugs over the well-being of her daughter. And in this line of business, being associated with a woman who uses and abuses is bad news. That’s why he was quick to dispose of Daisy as soon as Jazzy escaped her womb.
The creature before him visibly trembles as she stands, swaying on her feet. Her eyes are filled with…shame…which does something to him. She stumbles forward and he catches her. Well, more like she fell into his lap.
“Sir, I-I’m s-sorry,” she stutters as she tries to get back on her feet.
Her body is skin and bones yet still soft. How that’s possible, he isn’t sure. But he helps her stand back on her feet again, his hand holding on to her slender fingers to make sure she’s steady.
“The prince of darkness is a gentleman,” she whispers ever so quietly, quoting King Lear.
“I’m not a prince. I’m a King,” he tells her, his hand still wrapped around hers.
It surprises him that she would quote King Lear. More surprised that his cock is taking notice of her soft skin on his. He shifts in his seat to try to cover himself from her view.