Page 11 of King of Desire (Kings of Las Vegas #2)

CHAPTER TEN

Triston

Honeyeh is always beautiful. But like this…

She steals my breath every time I look at her and I ache to touch her. This whole charade of her being my choice of date so that I can conduct business is ridiculous. No woman has ever distracted me more.

The taste of her skin lingers on my lips and tongue, and I want to devour her. This past week, I’ve worked out until my limbs ached. Yesterday after a grueling weights session, I took a long, hot shower, picturing the sweet juicy curve of Honeyeh’s ass and the way she looked in this dress.

But in the most infuriating twist, I didn’t masturbate. Cumming would really fucking help. I’m getting surlier with everyone around me, but as much as I know I should, I don’t want to spill my cum anywhere but in or on her.

Fuck. I don’t ever remember wanting a woman this much. I’m consumed by lust and it’s going to ruin the takeover if I don’t get this under control. I need to wine and dine the board members tonight, not drool over my assistant turned date.

I’ve racked my brain attempting to figure out how to coerce her into my bed. But the delicateness of her situation, her association with Mason, and her innocence mean I have to tread so carefully.

Blowing out a breath, her fingers tighten instinctually on my arm, some small gesture of comfort.

This is one of the ways men end up fucking married. It’s the woman they can’t have, the one they’ll do anything to get.

And I know I’m officially losing my mental capabilities because, for a moment, I consider it.

Would she marry me for a year? I know it’s ridiculous, putting terms on marriage like I do on dating.

But I could take care of her brother, have a prenup where she gets a tidy sum after. We’d both win.

And then I could fuck her in every position in every room of this house until I’ve worked out whatever lust-induced haze has clouded my mind.

I tuck that idea away, attempting to focus on tonight.

I do not normally greet guests with a woman on my arm. I don’t want my date to get ideas…

But as Honeyeh is not a real date and I’d really like to see how she handles tonight, I keep her hand on my arm as I station myself by the front door.

But the first guest through the door is my brother, Gris. I am a man who normally sees the details. How could I miss this one? My family might get the wrong impression when they see me with Honeyeh. They know I don’t normally allow my dates to play hostess.

Gris sizes up Honeyeh in a single sweep of his knowing gaze, his eyes meeting mine with a satisfied gleam. He doesn’t have the wrong impression, he’s got it exactly right.

Next to me, Honeyeh gasps.

“What’s wrong?”

“In tuxedos, you look even more like your brother,” she whispers back.

Arabella greets Honeyeh with a wide smile. “Why, hello, I’m Arabella. Such a pleasure to meet you.”

Honeyeh gives my future sister-in-law a glowing grin back. “Honeyeh Karimi, and the pleasure is all mine.”

The two women embrace, leaving Gris and I to stare at each other, surely wearing matching looks of confusion. They’ve never met. Why would they hug?

“I’m Gris Smith,” Gris interrupts, his hand landing on Arabella’s back. “After my fiancée is done commandeering this introduction.”

Honeyeh and Arabella laugh, Arabella backing up. “Sorry. The women at these things aren’t usually friendly. It’s just refreshing.”

“Oh, that’s good to know, actually,” Honeyeh reaches for Arabella’s hands again. “Otherwise, I might have worried the lack of friendliness was directed at me.”

And then the two of them begin babbling to each other in quick bursts of conversation I can hardly keep up with.

“What is happening?” Gris whispers, giving me a bewildered look.

I shake my head. Hell, if I know. He’s the one who’s getting married. “You’d know better than me.”

Rush and Ryker enter together, neither with a date. Fools.

But they stop when they see my hand on Honeyeh’s back as she talks with Arabella. Rush gives a low whistle while Ryker’s brows shoot up.

Honeyeh barely notices as she and Arabella keep talking. I’ve never heard Honeyeh say so much, she’s normally quiet and I feel a twinge of jealousy.

But it leaves Ryker free to come to my other side. “Who is the bombshell?”

“That’s Honey something,” Gris offers.

“Honeyeh,” I correct, my lips thinning over my teeth as I glare.

“Honeyeh,” Killian booms from the door. Did my entire family arrive in a caravan? “Look at you.”

“Who’s Honeyeh?” Chloe asks, looking gorgeous in a pale green strapless gown, her hair twisted up in a sleek updo.

Arabella waves Chloe forward.

Killian lets his wife go, and joins us, coming to stand on Ryker’s other side. “Honeyeh is moving through the ranks quickly, I see.”

“You’ve met her?” Gris asks.

“We all have,” Killian answers with that shit grin he’s so good at.

Gris and Rush share a matching look of confusion, but I cut my hand through the air. “We’ll discuss this later, other guests are arriving.”

“She was a waitress at my wedding,” Killian goes on like I haven’t spoken. Fucker ignores everything everyone says all the time. “And Triston hired her as a maid earlier this week.”

I hate that he shared that, and I feel this deep, pit-of-the-stomach regret that I made her house staff. I should have made her an assistant right away if I was going to employ her. I don’t want anyone disrespecting her. Fuck.

“A maid?” Ryker asks. “Do you have her dress in a miniskirt and thigh-highs? Does she use her duster on you? Do you?—”

I punch his shoulder. Hard. Difficult in my tuxedo, but I make it work. “Shut the fuck up right now.”

Ryker grabs his arm, scowling. “Jesus.”

“Oh yeah. And he’s really fucking possessive of her.” Killian laughs. “I would have led with that, but then I would have missed out on Triston punching you in evening attire.”

“Shit,” Gris gives a small laugh as he wags his eyebrows. “This is going to be interesting.”

“Honeyeh,” my voice is razor sharp in a way that makes every one of my brothers look at me with intense interest. I’m doing it again. Acting like a surly prick.

“Triston,” she says as she reaches her hand out to me. She’s drifted a few feet away as she’s talked with Arabella and Chloe. But as her fingers lace through mine, she allows me to pull her into my side.

Her body touches mine and I relax, a long breath leaving my lungs as I move her hand to my other so I can wrap my arm around her waist. “I’m sorry to interrupt but the line of guests to greet is growing long.”

“Of course,” she tightens her fingers in mine. “My apologies for keeping them waiting.”

“A maid?” Gris grumbles next to me. “I don’t believe it.”

I ignore him as I wave the mayor of Las Vegas forward.

I let go of Honeyeh’s fingers so that I can shake hands, but I keep my other arm around her back, keep her pressed into my side, as I smile and make small talk.

She is everything I hoped she’d be. Polite, charming, beautiful. Dare I use the word polished? She helps me ease the guests into the party with a grace fit for a queen.

I would know.

By the time we’re done with the receiving line and moving into the ballroom, I know I need to find a way to get Honeyeh naked and in my bed soon.

I’m the sort of man who always gets what he wants, it’s just a matter of developing the right plan.