Naughty King (A Sexy Manhattan Fairytale, #1)

Instead, she glances down at the silver watch on her wrist. “You have a lunch meeting at twelve thirty and your car service is downstairs waiting.”


I set my glass down. “Thank you, Margo. Be sure to bring your tablet and a notepad to take notes.”

“I’m going?” I fight back a smile as I hear the surprise in her voice.

“Of course. That’s what assistants do—they assist. I’ll be ready in five and I expect you to be as well.” I allow a hint of a smile to play along my lips as she stands there gaping at me. “That will be all, Margo.”

I can tell that she doesn’t like me dismissing her like common help, but something tells me that she doesn’t want to make too big of a scene in front of Jack, so she doesn’t mouth off before she turns and walks out of my office. The princess is definitely not used to anyone bossing her around.

This little game of ours is going to be fun.

The second the door closes, Jack scrubs his hand down his face. “Fuck. This isn’t good.”

“What?” I ask, unsure of what he’s talking about.

He locks eyes with me. “Are you sure you haven’t already fucked her?”

“No!” I argue. “I haven’t touched her.”

“Maybe not yet, but you will. I can see the way you two are looking at each other. It might be a hate fuck, but it’s going to happen, and it’s going to ruin everything we’ve worked for. She’s part of her father’s deal. Please, use the head on top of your shoulders because it has the smarter brain. It’ll tell you that the best thing for business would be to not slip your dick in this chick.”

I understand why he’s flipping out. We have a lot of money riding on this, and with him being my company attorney, screwing this up will cause him a shit-ton of work on top of all the money King Corporation will lose. But he has to know that money and making sure that the company my father built succeeds is far more important than a piece of ass.

“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ve got it all under control. I promise not to fuck the hired help.” I put the crystal stopper back in the scotch decanter. “Now, let’s head to lunch and see if we can get that bastard, Buchanan, to sign this deal.”

I slap Jack on the back as I pass him and we head out to seal the deal and get Margo Buchanan the hell out of my office.





Margo

I CROSS MY LEGS FEELING Alexander King’s cool gray eyes, which are set beneath a pair of dark eyebrows, taking in every inch of my exposed flesh. Even when I catch him staring, he doesn’t seem the least bit apologetic. Rather than look away like most men would do in his position, he gives me one of those smart-ass smirks that I’ve grown accustomed to over the past few days since I started working for him, and he continues to stare at me blatantly.

The man is infuriating, and to make matters worse, he’s impossibly good-looking. If I hadn’t seen him in person, I would swear every picture I’ve ever seen of him had to have been airbrushed because no man ever looks that perfect all the time. But, sadly, Alexander is the exception. Everything about him draws me in. His Roman sculpted nose, chiseled cheekbones, and masculine jawline covered in a light beard—all of it fits exactly what I find attractive in a man to a T. It’s a shame he’s such a rat-bastard. Beauty is wasted on the wicked.

Infiltrating Alexander’s business and seducing him in order to gain access to all the information my father needs is a far more difficult task than I had originally anticipated. Most men are all too eager to please me, but not Alexander. He’s hell bent on making me miserable and teaching me what he deems as my place in this situation—below him. He has no idea that I’m not like most of these ridiculous Manhattan twits who run around here. His infamous name and hoards of wealth don’t do a thing for me. He won’t be able to walk all over me and use me as he does every other woman in our social circle. I’m pretty sure when I stood my ground earlier today it rattled him a bit, showing him that perhaps he’s met his match with me.

“So, Ms. Buchanan, how do you like the job so far?” The deep voice beside me asks.

I turn toward Jack Sutherland, who I’ve quickly learned is one of the attorneys for the King Corporation and second in line for the biggest manwhore in Manhattan, behind none other than Alexander King. I can see why women throw themselves at Jack. Like Alexander, he’s beautiful with his curly brown hair, hazel eyes, and adorable crooked grin. Though it seems to be a running theme that all well-polished men with model faces and insanely hot bodies are assholes. I swear there’s a handbook somewhere that all attractive men are given, teaching them it’s a must to be an egotistical womanizer who jump when any opportunity to stick their dick in something comes their way regardless of the consequences.

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