The Naughty King(10)

Out of all the things that he asks me to do, getting his coffee irritates me the most. Why in the hell do I have to fetch it? Are his legs fucking broken?

I sigh before plastering on a huge smile that will come through in the tone of my voice as I press the speaker button. “Right away, sir.”

The stock report and coffee are the easy things on the list, but securing a table at Per Se took some finagling. After I had disclosed exactly which Mr. King was requesting the table, it went rather smoothly. Seems his name has quite the pull.

I carry the report and coffee into his office. He holds his hand out for the paper as I set the mug on his desk.

I hope he fucking chokes on it.

I begin to turn away, but his voice quickly halts me. “I didn’t dismiss you yet, Margo.”

My nostrils flare as I spin back around to face him. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

Alexander pushes himself out of the chair and smoothes his red tie, attracting my attention to the definition hiding behind that blue buttoned-down dress shirt. I’ve noticed that when he’s working in his office, he removes his jacket. It almost makes him appear casual and more approachable, but I know better. He’s still an uptight asshole with or without the jacket.

He walks around the desk and stops in front of me before leaning back against the expensive-looking mahogany desk. “Are you all prepared for our trip to Vegas?”

I nod. “Yes. I mean, I will be once I finish packing—”

He shakes his head and a strand of dark hair falls across his forehead. My fingers itch to reach up and shove it back into place. I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks.

Stop it! You cannot be thinking about touching this man. He is the enemy and a complete asshole. Get a hold of yourself. Don’t allow hormones to take control.

“I don’t mean your personal items, Margo. I meant do you have all of the necessary tasks designated to the support staff to cover in our absence.”

I bite the inside of my lower lip as it occurs to me that doing that hadn’t crossed my mind. “I didn’t think that was necessary since tomorrow is Friday. We’ll be back in the office by Tuesday, so I just planned to return calls then.”

Alexander studies me intently as he taps his index finger against the smooth wood of his desk. “Time is always of the essence—it’s even more valuable in my line of work. One missed tip on an investment could cost billions.”

I swallow hard as the complexity of my mistake becomes clear. “I’ll make sure Jack’s secretary fields all of my calls and notifies me if something is urgent.”

I have to keep shit together and up my game. While working for King Enterprises isn’t my real career aspiration, I can still learn a lot while I’m here—things that can help me once I’ve found my job niche.

He straightens the cuff of his shirt. “Have a car pick you up tomorrow promptly at eight. The private jet leaves at nine. Apparently the Yamada family has requested my presence at a pool party at the Hard Rock at two, and I’ll expect you to accompany me.”

My eyes widen. “You can’t possibly expect me to attend a meeting in a swimsuit! That’s . . . no . . . it’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not up for discussion.” His voice rings with authority. “You want this job—you play the fucking game and be a good fucking sport while we meet with my business contacts.”

I open my mouth to lash out and tell him that there’s no way on God’s green earth that I’ll be parading around in front of him in a bikini, but the moment he arches his eyebrow, I quickly decide against it. My father will be so pissed if I screw this up. He’s counting on me to schmooze this contact of Alexander’s so that they’ll go to my father directly and make a deal for whatever part of Buchanan Industries they’re after.

“Fine, but just don’t expect me to become one of your paid whores while we’re there. This is just business.”

A playful smirk flirts across his full lips. “I like this tough act of yours—the way you’re fighting against me. It will make the moment your lips are wrapped around my cock that much more enjoyable, Margo.”

I release a bitter laugh, and it fills the inside of his office. “Those suave lines may work on the women you’re used to dealing with, but I assure you, it’ll take more than a few pretty words and a bunch of heady stares to turn my head. I don’t date assholes.”

“But do you fuck ’em? That’s the question of the hour, isn’t it? I don’t ever remember promising you that we’d date. I said we’d fuck. Dating versus fucking is two very distinctly different things.”