Rummaging for the folder of documents Gillian had sent me via email last night, I retrieved our booking and presented it to the receptionist, while King stood back, his phone held to his ear as he carried out a work conversation. I was vaguely aware of the receptionist informing me we had adjoining rooms as she handed me the key cards. King must have seen the WTF look on my face, because he lowered his phone for a second to explain, “It’s easier this way. Gillian always books adjoining rooms so that we don’t have to go traipsing halfway around hotels to find one another.”
And then he was back on the phone. Well, that was…convenient. A bellboy came to take our bags, and before I knew it, I was alone in my room, flopping down on the bed and wondering what I’d gotten myself into. We didn’t have to meet with the clients until dinner, and Italians ate late, so that gave me a couple of hours to rest up. I lay there for a while, tired, because no matter how short the journey, flights always seemed to drain me of energy.
In the end, I decided to treat myself and run a bath. I enjoyed a nice long soak and got out only when my fingers had started to turn to prunes. Wrapping a white fluffy towel around my body, I grabbed another and scrunched my hair dry. Usually, if I just towel-dried my hair and didn’t brush it, it went really curly. Just as I was laying the black dress I planned to wear to the business dinner out on the bed, I heard a soft knock on the door that led to King’s room.
Before I had the chance to react, the knob turned, and my boss stepped inside.
Eleven
Why hadn’t I thought to lock the door? Jesus, though, he could have waited for me to call him in before opening it.
I stood there, frozen to the spot in my short towel and damp hair. King had clearly showered and changed into a new suit. In fact, he looked like a whole new man, no longer rumpled and hungover. The moment he saw me, he glanced away. Well, no, that’s not quite what he did. His gaze made a quick perusal of my body, paying particular attention to the swell of my breasts. His jaw ticked, and then he glanced away. His close attention literally made me flush from my cheeks to the tips of my toes.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be dressed.”
“Well, I’m not,” I said, stating the obvious.
There was a strain in his voice as he echoed my statement. “No, you’re not.”
“Could you give me a half-hour? I just need to get ready.”
King let out a breath. “We don’t have the time. Mr Hirota’s assistant just called to say they were moving the meeting to another venue. He’s notorious for changing things around on a whim. Unfortunately, he’s the one we’re trying to win over, so we have to pander to it.”
I looked back at him. He stared at me. We were locked in a moment, and neither one of us made a move to break it, even though I was standing there almost naked. King seemed unusually stressed, and it was curious because he was never stressed to meet with clients. Over the past couple of weeks I’d witnessed him secure a number of business deals, but there was something different about this one, like he was extra determined for it to be successful. It made me wonder why. Gillian had told me that Mr Hirota was the Japanese-American owner of a chain of hotels with a deep love for ancient Roman history, which was why he lived here. There was nothing particularly unusual about him, though, so I was lost as to why King was on edge.
“Okay, just give me two minutes, then,” I said, finally breaking the silence and picking up my dress. King nodded, his eyes lingering on my bare thighs as I turned and went inside the bathroom.
Not helping, Oliver.
I wouldn’t have time to put on makeup, so I guessed the au naturel look was going to have to do. I also wore ballet flats instead of heels. I had just enough time to give my appearance one last perusal in the mirror. I looked fine, definitely not business fancy, but fine nonetheless. I realised just how much taller King was than me when I stepped outside and stood before him without any heels on. He glanced down, eyes tender, and I wondered if he was noticing the same thing.
He shook his head as though to clear his thoughts, and I busied myself. Grabbing the contracts we needed for the meeting, I shoved them in my handbag and allowed King to lead me out the door. We took the elevator down to the lobby, King resting his hand on the small of my back for a moment. It reminded me of my first morning at the office, when he’d touched me in a similar way. It had confused me then. Now I knew it was intentional. I thought that maybe King was a man who enjoyed pushing the boundaries of his own willpower.
A car provided by Mr Hirota was waiting for us outside the hotel. King was busy working on his tablet during the drive, while I enjoyed the passing scenery. I got to see a few cool ruins and even the Coliseum before we entered a busy district full of bars and restaurants. Then we stopped in front of what was very clearly a strip club.
King glanced out the window, did an almost comical double take, then swore under his breath before letting his head fall back against the headrest. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
A small moment of quiet elapsed, and I couldn’t help it — I laughed. King turned to face me, his eyes narrowed, but I could tell from the set of his mouth that he was resisting a smile.
“This isn’t funny, Alexis.”
“Oh, come on,” I said. “You have to admit, it’s a little bit funny. I feel like I’m in some gangster film and we’re about to meet with a scary mob boss.”
I expected my joke to make him laugh. Unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite effect. His expression grew serious and he turned away, clearing his throat. The driver emerged from the front of the car and came around to open my door. Kind of fancy behaviour for someone who was essentially dropping us off at a titty bar.
“Why, thank you, sir,” I said to the driver in a humorous tone. It got a tiny smile out of King, which was something at least. I liked that I could still amuse him even when he was in a decidedly dour mood. As we approached the entrance, King slid his arm through mine. “You stick close to me tonight, Alexis.”
“Why?” I asked, curious.
“Because,” he answered low, “if Mr Hirota is willing to do business in a place like this, then I worry how he might behave with a woman who looks like you.”
I chuckled and deadpanned, “Tell me about it. Wherever I go, I’m constantly terrorised by men getting spontaneous erections around me. It’s such a chore being a sex bomb.”
Again, King appeared to be fighting his urge to laugh. In the end, his serious side won out, and I gave in. “I’m joking. And don’t worry — I’ll stick to you like glue, Oliver.”
He gave me a warm look, and then we were entering the darkness of the booby cave. Okay, I’ll stop. Nudity just made me giddy like a five-year-old. A scantily clad woman greeted us and led us to a VIP section at the back of the club. All the while I was wondering if this was still going to be a business “dinner.” I was far from stuck up, but the idea of eating food prepared in a strip club just didn’t float my boat. Yeah, I was definitely going to wait until we got back to the hotel, and then I’d be making one hell of an order to room service. What with all the travelling, I’d hardly had the chance to eat all day.
It was kind of funny that I paid more attention to the topless dancing ladies up on the stage than King did. Call it morbid fascination. I knew King was slightly ticked off about the venue, but it probably wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. I hate to stereotype, but businessmen liked to look at boobs. It was a known fact.
In the VIP section there were a few more dancing ladies and a large table where several men sat. I immediately recognised Mr Hirota as the Japanese guy in the white suit, black shirt, and white tie. A white suit! How oh how was I going to keep from commenting on that?