I didn’t want to look at him. I hated looking at him.
But I’d spent years telling myself I didn’t care about him in the slightest, and so I forced myself to turn around, to arrange my expression into one of complete boredom.
Yet, no matter how much I told myself I didn’t care, I felt it the way I always did, the intense gut-punch of his presence.
He was a King and he carried himself like one, as if he ruled the whole city and everyone in it. The chair he sat in was his throne, the boardroom his throne room, the King employees his courtiers who paid homage.
All the King brothers were charismatic and Xander certainly had his share. Something to do with his height, broad shoulders and long, lean body, showed off to perfection by the tailored dark grey suit he wore.
His features were hawkish, all sharp planes and angles. He had straight black brows and deeply set black eyes, coal-black hair that he kept cut ruthlessly short and a straight classical nose. He was a study in darkness—intense, coldly beautiful and incredibly compelling. His air of complete and utter confidence mesmerised me. Yet the part of him that fascinated me the most was his mouth. Because though his face was hard, his mouth was not. There was a sensuality in the curve of his bottom lip that hit me hard every time.
I shouldn’t look at that mouth. I shouldn’t look at him.
I shouldn’t shiver every time he was near. I shouldn’t notice that he was even a man at all.
But, God help me, I did. And I loathed him all the more for it.
Especially now, when he was holding something I very much wanted over my head.
‘Are you deliberately being a bastard or were you born that way?’ I kept the question light, ignoring my racing pulse. ‘No, wait. I think I can answer that one already.’
‘My parents were married, if that’s what you mean.’ He said it with a totally straight face and I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Probably not since he was devoid of a sense of humour. ‘Sit down, Poppy.’
I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to do anything he said. My heart was still thumping from that moment he’d stood over me and pulled out my earbuds and I was terrified he’d somehow find out how badly that had affected me.
Instead I leaned back against the door and put my hands in my pockets, trying to pretend I didn’t give a shit about anything, least of all him. ‘I’m fine right here, thanks. Standing will help keep me awake while you bore me to death with tedious details.’
His brows twitched and if those intense black eyes had been swords, I would have been pinned to the door, both of them run straight through my heart.
Yeah, I knew. He hated me as much as I hated him. To be honest, it was the only thing that made any interaction between us bearable.
‘Suit yourself.’ He didn’t even have the decency to look away and give me a couple of moments breathing space. He just sat there, staring at me as if he wanted to take me apart piece by piece. ‘Like I said, I need a PA for the month until I can find a replacement. It’s not an easy job, but you’ll be well paid and—’
‘Thanks,’ I interrupted again, kicking my heel against the door purely to irritate him. ‘But, sadly, I already have a job.’
A lie. I didn’t have a job. I’d been fired from my latest position the previous week because the boss was an ass who thought that since my mother apparently whored around for free, he could take a piece of me for nothing too.
Story of my damn life.
I’d decided right then and there I wasn’t working for another man. My mother told me I was being ridiculous, that I should use my looks to get what I wanted, because wasn’t that why God had given them to me?
But I wasn’t her. I didn’t want to be pawed over and viewed as nothing but a sex object, and I certainly didn’t want to have my entire livelihood based on my looks and what I could get out of men.
What I wanted was to go to London and get an internship at Jordan Architectural, one of the best architectural firms in Europe and run by Elizabeth Jordan, one of the best female architects in the world.
I had my architecture degree—which I didn’t get the best marks for, it was true—but I was hoping that what I lacked in academic ability, I could make up for in passion and my own artistic vision. Those I had in abundance.
Yeah, but you’re not going anywhere unless you listen to King Dick over there. So how about you stop sabotaging yourself just because you don’t like him?
He was looking at me again, all disapproving and stern, like a high school principal with a naughty student. And I could feel my knees getting weak.
Irritated with myself, I lifted my chin and raised an eyebrow. ‘What?’
‘You heard what I said about that internship, didn’t you? About how you wouldn’t get it until you had a good reference from me?’
‘Yeah, so? I’ll call her and speak to her myself. I can—’
‘I know Liz personally.’ This time it was his turn to interrupt me. ‘And if I tell her you’re not worth taking on, then you’re not worth taking on.’
‘Oh, right, so you’re on a first-name basis with one of the best architects in Europe—’ I didn’t hold back with the sarcasm ‘—Mr I-Have-a-Huge-Crime-Empire-and-Should-Be-in-Jail? Yeah, of course you do.’
Xander’s gaze didn’t even flicker, but something shifted in the black depths. Something that I was sure was anger and, for some insane reason, it made a little thrill shoot straight down my spine.
He was always so very self-contained, nothing getting through that stern front of his, and it was very satisfying knowing that I could ruffle him a little.
Stupid of me though. I didn’t want to make him angry. I didn’t care enough to make him angry.
‘Liz is Australian,’ he said without inflection. ‘Which you’d know if you’d done your research properly. She got her degree here and I knew her at university. She’s an old friend of mine.’
Heat rose in my cheeks.
I should have known that, but I didn’t. I hadn’t, in fact, done my research. I’d been too busy running around trying to get enough work to cover Mum’s debts as well as my student loan to do some basic fact checking.
Idiot. And of course Elizabeth Jordan would be one of bloody Xander’s friends.
I kicked my heel harder against the door, refusing to acknowledge my embarrassment. ‘So what’s the deal then? I have to work for you in return for this internship? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘I believe that’s what I’ve been saying for the past half an hour, yes.’ He was sitting so very still, his gaze unblinking and direct. Making me want to look away.
I didn’t though. I stared straight back, forcing myself to hold it. ‘You know I’d rather work for Genghis Khan than you.’
‘And
