Naughty King (A Sexy Manhattan Fairytale 1)

Yamada pops up and faces me. “Now that we’re alone, we can talk.”

I’m still dancing in time to the beat when I ask, “About what?”

“How long you know King?”

“Not long, but I’ve always known of him. Manhattan isn’t as big of a place as people think.” I tuck a loose strand of my dark hair behind my ear and figure this is my chance to get a little information too. “You two seem close. How did you meet?”

“In college,” he answers before doing a spin. “I met him when I came to America to study. He was floored by my awesomeness, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Wow,” I say, honestly surprised. “That’s cool that you two have stayed in touch.”

He shrugs. “When Yamada makes a friend, it’s for life, and now we’re business partners.”

We dance for a few more beats before he asks, “You fuck him yet, or does Yamada still have a shot?”

My mouth drops open and my eyes widen.

“Aw, shit. You did. I can tell by the look on your face. That’s okay, you’re only the second woman King has ever been able to beat Yamada to.”

That piques my curiosity. “Who was the other?”

“Jess,” Yamada answers. “His girlfriend from college. You know, the bitch who screwed him over and broke his heart.”

I raise my eyebrows. “I didn’t think he had one of those.”

Yamada tilts his head. “What? A heart?”

I nod and keep dancing with him.

He shakes his head in response. “You obviously don’t know him then, because he has one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen. I call him a pussy all the time for wearing it on his sleeve like a bitch. He needs to toughen up.”

Little does Yamada know, Alexander King has done an excellent job of making me, along with most of the women on the Upper East Side, believe that he’s a ruthless prick. I think I know him a little better than Yamada at this point.

“I think he’s plenty tough. Matter of fact, I think he’s a pompous ass,” I admit.

Yamada throws his head back in a fit of laughter. “I like you. You and Yamada will get along just fine.”

I glance over at Alexander, who has found a seat at one of the bars. It’s like I can feel his eyes on me, studying every move I make. I’m positive that pushing him away like I did earlier was the best choice for my sanity, not to mention my heart, but it doesn’t stop my stupid body from being drawn to him. It’s going to be a lot harder to ignore his advances now, especially since I know what it’s like to be with him. It’ll be difficult to turn down those intense promises of pleasure because he does a damn fine job of delivering.

I spend the rest of the afternoon dancing and drinking with Yamada, while my brain works on trying to figure out the complex puzzle that is Alexander King—a puzzle that according to Yamada, I don’t have the first fucking clue about.

Alexander

I LAY IN THE MIDDLE bed of this crazy room, trying to relax. I haven’t even had the energy to change out of my board shorts or throw on a shirt. Hanging out at Rehab all day and watching Margo while she pretended I didn’t exist, was fucking brutal. The image of her spread out before me, moaning my name in ecstasy while she came stayed in the forefront of my mind. All I could think about was how much I wanted to experience that again. How I wanted to fuck her again. How I wanted my name on her lips as she loses all control.

It makes me hard right now just thinking about it.

But Margo wouldn’t so much as give me the time of day. Instead, she spent the afternoon laughing at every joke Yamada told and ignored me. Even when I asked her a direct question, all I received were short one-word answers.

It sucks knowing the fact that I’ll probably never have her again, which is completely fucked up considering who I am. I’m Alexander King. I’m not supposed to give a shit about women.

Perhaps fucking her was a bad idea because it sure as hell didn’t get her off my brain. It did the complete fucking opposite. Now I can’t think of anything else, and it’s driving me insane.

The only logical thing I could do was drink—drink to forget.

“Alexander?” Margo’s voice on the other side of the bedroom door pulls me away from my thoughts. “Are you nearly ready to leave for dinner?”

Fuck. I was out longer than I thought, but I’m still drunk. There’s no way I’ll be able to make it.

“I’m not going,” I mutter loud enough for her to hear.

“But, you have to go. Yamada—”

“Will get over it,” I finish for her. “Call him to cancel.”

I roll onto my side and close my eyes, but the sound of my door flinging open and Margo’s high heels clicking across the floor causes my eyes to snap open. “Margo? What are you—?”

Without permission, she leans over the bed, grabs my arm and yanks. “Come on. Get up. You can’t cancel this meeting. I—”

Quickly I reach out and pull her down on the bed with me, causing her to shriek, not caring a bit if I wrinkle the bright-blue dress she’s wearing. “You what? Need this meeting to try to get to know Yamada better?”

She squirms in my arms as she pushes against my chest. “Dammit, King, let me go. If you’re not meeting with him, then I will.”

“It’s not going to work, Margo. You might as well stop trying. Yamada’s my friend. He would never sell out on me. You’re wasting your time.”