High Stakes (The Kingdom Book 2) (15 page)

I wait until he gets out of bed and goes for a shower. I feel like a teenager trying to sneak out, and I know it’s not going to be easy to get dressed and ready for work in the time it takes for him to shower and shave, but I’m going to do my best.

I grab a navy tailored pant suit from the closet, and pair it with an oyster kami, and heels which match perfectly. They fit like they were made for me, and the heels hug my feet as though they were slippers. Whether I will still think the same by the end of the day, I don’t know. I sling the jacket over the back of the chaise to pick up on the way out.

I just about manage to finish applying minimal make up, and sit at the dresser to brush my hair, before Denham comes out of the bathroom with just a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist.

Damn.

Now I’m rethinking my decision to go to work today.

Now I’m thinking I’d like to be that towel … clinging to his defined muscles.

“Uh …what do you think you’re doing?” he asks, breaking my visual exploration.

“I’m … I’m just thinking how good you look in that towel.”

He chuckles, and tucks the corner of it in around his waist with his thumb. “I can see that.” He walks over to me and kisses my forehead. “I meant, what are you doing getting up, and dressed so fast? Somewhere to be?”

I stand, my heels making me much taller than usual, and almost at his eye level. “I’m going to work,” I say with clarity.

“No, you’re not.”

If I thought he was going to let it slide, I would have been wrong. “Yes, I am,” I reply.

“Please don’t argue with me, Arianna.”

“I’m not going to argue. I’m going to work. No argument.” I shrug, and continue to braid and pin my hair, so there are two neat braids that circle my head and keep my hair out of my face.

“What if—”

“What if, what? What if I pass out? What if Amy tries to scratch my eyes out with those ridiculously long talons of hers?”

“Arianna,” he warns at my smart comments.

“Look. When I left LA, I wanted to start afresh. I needed to start a new life where I could live.” His shoulders drop a little, and I feel bad that I’m going to make it hard for him to concentrate at work today. I know how hard it is to function when you are worried about something or someone, but we need to do this before I start to suffocate. “I love being here with you. The last few days have been perfect.” I snake my hands around his waist, stroking his damp skin, and tucking my fingers in the towel just above his ass. “But, we need to start living in the real world. I need to work. I
want
to work. You need to go to work and run your empire from the helm, not holed up below deck with me. Even if that is where I like you best.” I wink and kiss him on the cheek. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers. “But, on one condition.”

“Go on …”

“You come back to me in one piece.”

“I can’t promise that, but I’ll do my very best.”

“Will you let Jack drive you to the boutique, please?” he asks hopefully.

“Yes, and depending how I get along with these heels,” I kick one of my feet up behind me, “I might even call him to bring me home.”

“That would be fine by me.” He looks over my shoulder. “You know what would also be fine by me?”

“What?” I ask curiously.

“If you kept those heels on for me, later.”

His eyes sparkle, and that gold glint that I’m coming to love so much, flashes in my direction. I’ve never noticed a man’s eyes change color so often. I’ve seen a man’s eyes turn black with anger, too often. But Denham’s turn gold with lust, and shine brightly with happiness.

“Now that, Mr. King, I can do.”

After much distraction, I’m finally en route to Chique. Denham didn’t try to persuade me to change my mind again. But he did try and persuade me to be late, and I almost gave in. Almost. Being late on your first day at work would not make a good impression, and I want this job so badly that I’m not willing to jeopardize it for anything.

Jack pulls up right outside the building, and I step out onto the sidewalk. The butterflies had started to flutter around a little when I left The Kingdom just a few minutes ago, and now they are in full flight. I’m nervous. It’s first day nerves mixed with excitement.

When I approach the large glass doors, I see Beth coming toward me, pushing through the boutique with a frown. She flings the door open and pulls me to her. She cradles my head in her chest then pushes me away, holding me at arm’s length by my shoulders.

“What are you doing here, young lady?”

“Working,” I say with a smile, hoping to diffuse the worry that’s etched on her face.

“You shouldn’t be here. You should be resting after everything that happened to you. Just wait until I get my hands on that man of yours.” She actually stomps her foot, and places her hands on her tiny waist.

“I’m fine, really. Denham tried to tell me to stay off for another couple of days, but I really want to be here. Please …”

“You’re not feeling faint, dizzy or remotely sick?”

“Nope.”

“And you don’t have cuts and bruises?”

“No cuts, just a few faint bruises that are on their way out. I’m good. Really I am. If I spend one more day cooped up I’m going to go stir crazy. Let me work, Beth. Please …”

She doesn’t answer straight away. She presses a finger to her lips in thought “You’re a girl after my own heart, you know that?”

I just smile at her. She’s so good at being stern and portraying the hard heartless image, but it couldn’t actually be further from the truth.

“Come on then,” she says sweeping up my hand in hers. “Let’s get you started. You wanna work … let’s work. But,” She stops and swings around in my direction, “if you feel faint, dizzy or unwell in any way at all, I want you to tell me, promise?”

“Promise.” I nod.

Beth takes me through to her office, which now doubles as mine too. We have desks opposite each other with everything I could ever need laid out neatly at my fingertips.

“Now, before you start, I want to lay down some rules,” Beth states. “You have a question-Ask. Do not leave it and try and figure it out yourself. I don’t care how small or insignificant the question is, ask it. Little mistakes can cost a small fortune, and I don’t want to have to yell at you.”

“Got it.”

“I run a tight ship here, Arianna. No bitching. No backstabbing. We work as a team, and I want to know if there’s any problems.”

I nod.

“There’s one more thing. Have fun. This is a job I love, and if I’m right, and I’ve never been wrong …” her voice softens, “You’re going to love it too.” She finishes her sentence with a smile.

She’s right. I think I am going to love it here.

The morning goes by fast, in a blur of phone calls and files. I am introduced to designers via video call, and put in charge of a rather large expensive order with a top designer. I think my face actually lost all of its color when I was put through directly to the man himself. Just the mere mention of Beth or Chique has huge clout with these designers and I’m loving it. The hours fly by and before I know it, it’s two in the afternoon.

“Arianna. Down time. Let’s eat,” Beth announces.

She grabs her purse, and hands me mine. I follow her quick pace through the store, and out into the afternoon sun. It’s hot, and after being in the air conditioned office for most of the day so far, the wall of stifling, dry air hits me hard. Luckily we don’t have to go far as Beth leads me into a bistro just a few minutes down the road.

We stay for a light lunch. Nothing extravagant, but delicious all the same. Conversation is light and professional and I’m grateful for that. Beth’s knowledge of the fashion world is astounding. She knows everyone, or should I say, everyone knows her. The professional her. She doesn’t divulge anything about her personal life, which has me intrigued. She doesn’t wear a wedding band, nor is there an indentation where she might have worn one once upon a time. I can’t imagine someone like her being on her own, but I don’t pry. If she wants to share, then she will do it in her own good time.

We get back to the boutique within an hour, and the shop floor is busy. Beth’s employees are busy assisting and serving, and I smile in the knowledge that she trusts her staff to work hard when she’s not here.

“Beth,” I call out to her as she strides ahead of me.

“Yes, Arianna, dear?”

“Would you mind if I observe out here for a while?”

“Sure,” she shrugs, then creases her brow, “you don’t like it in the office with me?”

“Oh, no. It’s not that. Not at all. It’s just that I’d like to see how things work. Get an idea of how everything functions as a whole,” I explain, fearing that I might have offended her.

She laughs, “I was joking, Arianna. Of course you can. You can do as you please. As long as the work gets done, I don’t mind what you do.” She pauses, turning to look at me. “Have I worked you too hard today? You feeling okay?”

“Oh no! Not at all. I’ve loved it, really I have. I mean, my head is spinning with everything I’ve learned but it’s great. I feel great.”

“Good. Let’s just get those Jensen files sent over, and you can observe until your heart’s content.”

I am introduced to Layla and Jo, Beth’s assistant managers. They’re sweet and very welcoming, and both make me laugh when they talk like they’re twins, and finish each other’s sentences. That’s what happens when you work closely with someone for a long time. I watch them go about their day, attentively assisting the most prestigious of the clients that come through the door, and overseeing the younger sales assistants with everything else.

Layla takes me through some of the unique items they have in stock, gushing over Beth’s amazing contacts, and how she can manage to get her hands on some real beauties, with just a wink of her beautifully long lashes.

We stand behind the counter to the left hand side, so we don’t disturb any transactions that need to take place. Layla pulls out some figures from one of the drawers, and starts to explain the workings of the way they control their stock and ordering process. We both have our heads down, until something prickles at my senses and I glance up. For some strange reason I shiver as my eyes search upwards across the leather clad torso in front of me. When I reach the person’s face, I can’t see past the bike helmet. This immediately strikes me as odd, as I would assume it’s common courtesy to remove your helmet when entering a store.

I swallow hard, and although I can’t see the person’s eyes through the mirrored visor, I know he or she is looking at me. I quickly deduct that it is a male under the leather due to the build and stance, but I could be wrong.

The mystery biker holds out a hand containing a long, thin box wrapped in matte black paper, tied with a deep red bow, and passes it to me. I instinctively put my hand up to take it then pull away quickly.

“Um, how do—” I stutter. The person pushes the box at me, and when I gingerly take it, they stride out of the glass doors, and kick off on a big, black bike that moves as fast as I can blink. I’m speechless. I don’t really know what happened there, and I have no idea why I’m so edgy.

“Well,” Layla prompts, making me blink and come back to reality.

“Aren’t ya going to open it and see?” Jo asks, bumping my shoulder.

“What could it be?” Layla muses excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“I think it’s jewelry.”

“Yes! Yes, it could be a sparkling diamond necklace, and matching earrings, and a bracelet.”

Their enthusiasm for what’s in the long, thin, beautifully wrapped box makes me a little excited, and I look at both of them with a perplexed smile before running my eyes down the length of it. There’s only one person it could be from. Only one person knows I started my new job today, and one person who knows exactly where I’d be. Denham.

I place the box on the countertop in front of me, and pull the ends of the perfectly tied bow until it falls apart. I peel back the wrapping and wiggle the lid off.

A rose.

Nestled amongst black satin lining is a red, red rose.

It’s beautiful. Perfect.

There’s no note. I don’t need one.

He makes my heart race. Always thinking about me.

“Aww, I’m so jealous. My man never sends me things like that. Actually, he never sends me anything,” Jo whines.

“Well, at least you have a man, I don’t even have a guy to send me things,” Layla responds by crossing her arms and huffing.

“Babe, you’ll find a guy, there’s someone out there for everyone.”

“Everyone,” she repeats. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Their conversation continues, with the oohs and aahs, with the finishing of each other’s sentences, and as nice as they are, I can’t stand here and listen any longer.

I take my rose, and go back to my office, leaving the girls twittering between themselves.

The last two hours of the day pass quickly, and although I feel fine, my brain is exhausted. My eyes continually drift to the beautiful red flower sitting in the box on my desk, and I’m still in awe of how thoughtful Denham can be.