“I must bide my time. Tour London and Paris and hope that his desire wanes and that I can be free from his unwanted attention.”
“It’s doubtful it will wane. He seems to be a man who gets what he wants. After all, he is the King of Manhattan!” Bessie said.
“Well, King or no King, I don’t welcome his attention. And since I don’t want to put the tour in jeopardy, I’ll wait.”
“I agree. You should wait. After all, he hasn’t done anything but talk. But what if waiting doesn’t work? What if after the period of mourning, he still wants you?”
Ruby cast a glance out the window and pondered her words. It was easy to say she didn’t want King and that she would never be his wife. But such a dominating man wasn’t used to the word no. She wasn’t frightened, but she didn’t like the position she was in either. She would do what she must. She would go to Europe and keep King at arm’s length. She didn’t like to seem disingenuous, but she also didn’t want to be forced into a situation.
“I don’t know, Bess. For now, I must wait.”
Lourdes was pleased to see King as he entered the foyer of her town house and dismissed the butler immediately.
“You didn’t send word, darling,” she said sweetly. “You usually do. Brandy?”
He nodded. She poured two glasses and handed him one as she sipped the liquor from the other. She sat beside him on the small couch and ran her hand up his leg, touching his cock. He removed her hand.
“Did you come to talk?” she asked, sitting back.
“Not really. I always liked the way you decorated this parlor. Simple yet elegant.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Caroline is dead.”
Lourdes heard the words, but it took her a moment to understand their full meaning. “I see.”
“No soft words of condolence for me? About your rival’s death?”
“She wasn’t my rival, King. She was your wife.”
“Exactly so. You should show some respect.”
Lourdes bowed her head a little. “I am sorry for your loss.”
“You aren’t at all,” he sneered.
“King—”
“But never mind all that. She is dead, and there’s an end to it.”
King stood suddenly, gulping down the drink and placing the glass aside. When she stood next to him, she tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off.
“As I said, I didn’t come here to talk.”
With no soft words or kindness, King spun her around to face the sofa. Pulling up her skirts, he unbuttoned his trousers and kicked her legs apart.
“King—” She tried to turn her head to look at him, but saw the darkness in his eyes.
She knew better. He was in one of his moods, and the best thing to do was be silent and let him have his way. His hands grasped her hips as he thrust inside her.
She felt one hand move to her hair, and suddenly he was yanking on her hair, pulling her head up sharply. She hated this side of him. When he was like this, there was no affection or kindness, just sex. And when he took her as he did now, she felt like a whore, bought and paid for.
His hips slapped against her ass again and again. He didn’t care for her release, and she knew there would be none. This night, there would be no pleasure for her, only his.
When he climaxed, he did so in several grunts, spilling his seed inside her. She prayed the seed would take root and give her the son she longed for. When he moved away from her, she stood up and smoothed down her skirts even as she felt his seed slide down her inner thigh.
“You can keep the town house. I will make sure the deed is in your name,” he told her absently.