Page 7 of Bared Betrayal

He exhales loudly. “Let’s just say you’re having a day. I’m having a fucking month.”

“Work?”

“Isn’t it always?”

“You don’t have to wait two weeks, Davian. Just go to Myth and participate in its day-to-day pleasures as all the other members do.”

He gives me a look that questions my suggestion. “I’d rather not be bored to death with a simple blowjob, fuck you very much.”

I shake my head and chuckle in amusement, knowing all too well that what others find erotic and exciting, Davian Stark finds uninspiring and tedious.

“Then you’ll have to wait two weeks.” I state the obvious.

“You sure they won’t cancel on us again for God knows what reason?”

“They’re the Del Rossas, Davian. They can do whatever the fuck they want.” I’ve worked with the brothers for years, enjoyed the perks of this position and the power it brings. After Vincenzo Del Rossa’s death, their father, there’s been a shift in the hierarchy. Alexius took over from his father as ruler of the Dark Sovereign dynasty—a ruthless man who will not be fucked with. But since he’s taken a wife, he has been a silent entity regarding Myth, leaving Nicoli, his twin, to oversee the club business. Yet Alexius has hinted at bringing his beautiful bride to one of our…events. Rumor has it they have a taste for the thrill of watching…and being watched.

“Fine,” Davian says and stands. “But if they cancel this time, I’m fucking Denise.”

“Why would you want to fuck my secretary?”

“Because I don’t know where the fuck your mother is.”

I burst out laughing, and a grin sneaks up on Davian’s cocky expression.

“You have time for lunch?” He buttons his navy-blue suit jacket just as Denise knocks on the door, peeking inside.

“Victoria would like to see you, sir.”

“Of course she would.” I let out a sigh and shake my head at Davian. “Maybe some other time.”

“I’m fucking your secretary,” Davian mouths silently before stalking out of my office.

I gesture at Denise to let Victoria in.

“Mr. King,” she greets as she sashays in, the click of her black stilettos muted by the carpet.

I stand and nod at Denise to close the door behind her.

My gaze meets Victoria’s, and I already know what’s on her mind as she flips her long hair over her shoulder. It’s all there in her hazel-colored eyes as her gaze rakes down my body—the desire to be wined, dined, and fucked. Too bad for her, I don’t do drinks, I don’t do dates. But I do fuck.

“I trust Denise has given you everything you need,” I say after she takes a seat across from me.

“Denise has been a great help.” The tone in her voice borders on sarcasm.

“That’s good to hear. So, I take it you’re done, then?”

“No. Far from it.” The way she settles back in the chair, crossing her legs with a slow, calculated move, taking up too much fucking space in my goddamn office irks the shit out of me. Contrary to what she might think, she’s not in control here. This is my domain. My fucking playground. Loss of control is unacceptable in my professional and personal life.

I hold eye contact without blinking. No expression or emotion present, the motherfucking alpha of all poker faces. “Is there something else you need from me, Victoria? I really am busy.”

She smirks, gliding her fingers down her sleek hair. “I thought you and I could have lunch. Discuss some of your latest imports.”

“I’m a busy man. I don’t have time for lunch.”

“Oh, come on. Surely you can cut an hour from your schedule. For me.” She bats her fake eyelashes while pouting her plump, cherry-red lips. This woman is a walking cliche in designer heels.

“I’m sorry, not—”