Page 11
Story: King of Desire
“Who is that?” she hisses, her lip curling as her gaze slides down Honeyeh. “Your next conquest? Are you ordering your women brought in from abroad now?”
“Veronica,” my voice takes on the sharp note I was trying to avoid. I want to scare Honeyeh off from thinking we might have a personal relationship, not permanently damage her. “Abusing my staff is expressly forbidden in the contract.”
“Staff? Are you hiring maids to suck your cock now?” She spits, looking back at Honeyeh. “Don’t do it. He’s a soulless animal who will devour you and then leave your carcass to rot.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Honeyeh
Triston reachesVeronica in two strides, his hand decisively grabbing her elbow. He makes a snarling noise as he moves her toward the front door, Veronica struggling to keep up with his long steps.
But Veronica isn’t done, she’s still spitting vitriol over her shoulder, aimed at me. “You aren’t special, so don’t go thinking that you are. You’re just a number, a whore he paid to do his bidding.”
I have never considered myself special. At this point, I’d settle for being average. But despite what Brittany offered, I’ve never considered selling myself. The idea fills me with sick dread.
“There was a line of women before you and there will be a line after you.”
Triston opens the door, his hand still under Veronica’s elbow as he steps outside, pulling her with him.
I’m staring, my mouth open, as Mrs. Raith rushes toward me. “I’m so sorry, Honeyeh. It’s usually not this exciting around here.”
“I…” I swallow down a lump. Veronica’s words were full of vitriol. And while many of them were aimed at me, her assessment of the situation was all wrong. I’m just some girl that Triston Smith felt sorry for. One that is tangentially related to his partner, so he’s doing me a favor, which is really meant for Mason’s benefit.
Triston walks back into the house, his long strides quickly closing the distance between us, his gaze filled with an intensity that makes me hectic inside.
My heart flutters in my chest as blood rushes in my ears. In this moment I have to wonder…
Did Veronica’s words have some measure of truth? Will I be asked to…
“Honeyeh,” Triston’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Allow me to give you a tour of the house.”
I nod, a bit disoriented and lost for words, as his hand lightly grips my elbow. He’s a man in charge, there is no denying that, and I allow him to lead me away from Mrs. Raith and into the center of the entryway once again.
Part of me wants to ask about Veronica, about what she said, but I hold my tongue. If he wishes to discuss what just happened, he’ll bring it up. If not, I won’t ask.
To the left is a large study, the right looks to be a…
“Let’s start in the ballroom.”
“The ballroom,” I repeat, hesitating for just a moment. Who has a ballroom? His fingers lightly caress the exposed skin of my arm as he leads me into the massive space. It must be forty feet wide, and it runs the length of the house, with a wall of French doors that lead into a formal garden.
“It’s a lot, I know,” he says with a chuckle. “But as the CEO of my family’s company, I end up hosting a fair number of events.”
I can’t believe they didn’t have Killian and Chloe’s wedding here. It’s a much nicer space than the hotel room that his brother used. And the garden… “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he starts walking again, down the length of the ballroom toward the back of the house. “At the end of the ballroom is a hall that links to the kitchen. From there, we move into the far more personal spaces of the house.”
I nod. I’m sure the staff services both public and private spaces, but I make a note. Be cautious before entering the personal spaces.
We turn down the hall, into the huge industrial kitchen with an entire wall of Viking ranges with double ovens, a twenty-foot-long island filling the center of the room. “Wow.”
Triston chuckles. “You seem more impressed by the kitchen than you did the ballroom.”
“This is a place of purpose,” I say, hearing the awe that colors my voice. I clear my throat. “It’s impressive.”
He nods too as we move into a second, much smaller kitchen. “This is my personal space for making a smoothie or a quiet dinner.”
This kitchen opens into a family room with vaulted ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s cozy, yet grand, and I can picture Triston in more casual attire, lounging on the large sectional.
“Veronica,” my voice takes on the sharp note I was trying to avoid. I want to scare Honeyeh off from thinking we might have a personal relationship, not permanently damage her. “Abusing my staff is expressly forbidden in the contract.”
“Staff? Are you hiring maids to suck your cock now?” She spits, looking back at Honeyeh. “Don’t do it. He’s a soulless animal who will devour you and then leave your carcass to rot.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Honeyeh
Triston reachesVeronica in two strides, his hand decisively grabbing her elbow. He makes a snarling noise as he moves her toward the front door, Veronica struggling to keep up with his long steps.
But Veronica isn’t done, she’s still spitting vitriol over her shoulder, aimed at me. “You aren’t special, so don’t go thinking that you are. You’re just a number, a whore he paid to do his bidding.”
I have never considered myself special. At this point, I’d settle for being average. But despite what Brittany offered, I’ve never considered selling myself. The idea fills me with sick dread.
“There was a line of women before you and there will be a line after you.”
Triston opens the door, his hand still under Veronica’s elbow as he steps outside, pulling her with him.
I’m staring, my mouth open, as Mrs. Raith rushes toward me. “I’m so sorry, Honeyeh. It’s usually not this exciting around here.”
“I…” I swallow down a lump. Veronica’s words were full of vitriol. And while many of them were aimed at me, her assessment of the situation was all wrong. I’m just some girl that Triston Smith felt sorry for. One that is tangentially related to his partner, so he’s doing me a favor, which is really meant for Mason’s benefit.
Triston walks back into the house, his long strides quickly closing the distance between us, his gaze filled with an intensity that makes me hectic inside.
My heart flutters in my chest as blood rushes in my ears. In this moment I have to wonder…
Did Veronica’s words have some measure of truth? Will I be asked to…
“Honeyeh,” Triston’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Allow me to give you a tour of the house.”
I nod, a bit disoriented and lost for words, as his hand lightly grips my elbow. He’s a man in charge, there is no denying that, and I allow him to lead me away from Mrs. Raith and into the center of the entryway once again.
Part of me wants to ask about Veronica, about what she said, but I hold my tongue. If he wishes to discuss what just happened, he’ll bring it up. If not, I won’t ask.
To the left is a large study, the right looks to be a…
“Let’s start in the ballroom.”
“The ballroom,” I repeat, hesitating for just a moment. Who has a ballroom? His fingers lightly caress the exposed skin of my arm as he leads me into the massive space. It must be forty feet wide, and it runs the length of the house, with a wall of French doors that lead into a formal garden.
“It’s a lot, I know,” he says with a chuckle. “But as the CEO of my family’s company, I end up hosting a fair number of events.”
I can’t believe they didn’t have Killian and Chloe’s wedding here. It’s a much nicer space than the hotel room that his brother used. And the garden… “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he starts walking again, down the length of the ballroom toward the back of the house. “At the end of the ballroom is a hall that links to the kitchen. From there, we move into the far more personal spaces of the house.”
I nod. I’m sure the staff services both public and private spaces, but I make a note. Be cautious before entering the personal spaces.
We turn down the hall, into the huge industrial kitchen with an entire wall of Viking ranges with double ovens, a twenty-foot-long island filling the center of the room. “Wow.”
Triston chuckles. “You seem more impressed by the kitchen than you did the ballroom.”
“This is a place of purpose,” I say, hearing the awe that colors my voice. I clear my throat. “It’s impressive.”
He nods too as we move into a second, much smaller kitchen. “This is my personal space for making a smoothie or a quiet dinner.”
This kitchen opens into a family room with vaulted ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s cozy, yet grand, and I can picture Triston in more casual attire, lounging on the large sectional.
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