Page 21 of Truth
Wait a minute, King is his last name. Cheater! The thought makes me smile. All this time I thought I was a step ahead, but I was being bested at my own game.
“Ah, do you happen to know the name of the store Mr. King…oh, I mean, uh, oh geez…this is so embarrassing, but we just met tonight and I don’t remember his name. Guess I had a little too much…”
“Nice try, doll.” He grins as King opens the door, causing me to scoot back and looking about as caught as I feel. I’m sure my grin isn’t giving anything away.
“What’s going on here…?” Smiling, King’s eyes narrow with curiosity as he hops in with the pie.
“Nothing, what do you mean? Is that all meat? Delish.” I can’t help but be distracted by the smell, motioning for him to open the lid.
“George.” King levels a stare as he opens the top to show me.Yes, all meat!
“Yes, sir, I believe I was being hustled for your name. She’s a smart one—you may want to sleep with one eye open,” George says, throwing me right under the bus.
“Seriously? Hustled is a strong term.” I give George the stink eye. “I would go with gently coerced, and P.S. you lied,” I say, pointing an accusing finger toward King. “You told me your name was King, but that’s not your name.” Boom.
“It’s my name, just the last part. All you have to do is ask, Drew.”
Rolling my eyes but unwilling to admit defeat, I realize that I don’t want to ask for anything. This game we’re playing with each other is ridiculous, slightly immature, but I fucking love this foreplay because that’s exactly what this is—foreplay.
“I don’t want to ask. It makes me feel like I’m losing our little game.” I wave him off dismissively before he can see what a sore loser I really am.
His laugh fills the car, making me laugh with him. “You’re really fucking refreshing, you know that? Gorgeous, I would give you the world if you’d let me, but I have a feeling you would rather acquire it all yourself.”
“Yes, yes, I would, but I’m not so stubborn that I can’t ask for help. George here is the perfect example. I asked him to remind me of your name.”Game, set, match.
Smiling in the mirror, King gives a slight nod. “Yes, ma’am. Mr. King’s first name is Dominic.”
How the hell did he just get even sexier?
WE PULL UP TO THErow of gorgeous Chicago brownstones, the kind that ends up on the insides of all those house magazines. I’ve loved this neighborhood since I was a child and visited Chicago. I remember wanting to move here and my parents being devastated because that meant I would be moving away from home—home being California—but every time my dad had to come here on business, I would beg to come too.
We come to a stop in front of an all white house with the grandest steps adorned by gold lions on each post that keeps guard over the black wrought iron gate. The door is red, making it stand out against the white background, offset by two potted topiaries. It’s perfect.
The lights are on inside the home, making me pause and point to the window as I look at King.
“Controlled from my phone. I like gadgets, and security is important.” He shrugs and grabs my hand, then leads me to the gate, which I open since his other hand is holding our pie.
“Do me a favor—reach into my pocket and grab my keys, will ya?”
“Mmhmm, sure.” Without hesitation, I reach into the hip pocket he has jutted out toward me and feel around for the keys.
“Easy tiger, we’re in public. No need to get all grabby hands on me, unless that’s what you’re aiming at. Just so you know, I’m not opposed.”
“Shut up.” Giggling, I hand him his keys, but he keeps both hands on the pizza and nods his head toward the door. As I open the door, my heart skips a beat, knowing that I’m really going all in with this guy. We’re bringing pizza back to his damn house. I’m like Cinderella, but I don’t want my prince in real life because this princess needs to get her shit together first.
“You’ve either been robbed, or you just moved in.” His house is empty save the light in the front room, coming from a plain metal standing lamp. The room across has the same ambiance, leaving the gorgeous wide-plank dark wood floors as the only item to admire. Its bay window has a fold-out chair and table in front as makeshift seating.
“For entertaining?” I smile. He chuckles at my sarcasm.
We walk through the extra-wide hallway next to his office, which is decked out with a desk chair and computer. Rounding the corner, we enter a great room where the kitchen and family room are open to each other. The kitchen island is massive in cool gray and white marble with subway tiles for the backsplash, accenting the white cabinetry. His family room has a leather sectional couch and the largest television I’ve ever seen. Looking over at him, I can see him seeing his place through my eyes. The humor is written all over his face.
“I’m never here, so there really isn’t a reason to furnish it, and when I am in town, I typically stay at the club. No need for the space, but I keep it as an investment.” Cocking his head, he gives me that damn stare, the one that makes me feel exposed and antsy.
“How long have you owned this property?” I start to meander through the space toward the windows that lead to the outdoor patio, and I flick on the backyard lights.
“Five years.” Bulb lights flood the space and take my breath away. The most beautiful garden is planted around a farm table adorned by the string lights. It’s dreamy.
“This is beautiful, King.” I stare out at the picturesque garden, envisioning tables being set and dinners being eaten.
