The King: The Original Sinners Book 6 (35 page)

40

November

THE RENOVATIONS TOOK
thirty-six days and cost one-point-two million dollars. Kingsley handed over the credit card to Sam with his eyes closed and said, “Do what you have to do to make it perfect. Don’t show me the bills.” On opening night, Kingsley took Sam by the hand and kissed the center of her palm. She’d let him outshine her tonight. While she wore a basic three-piece pin-striped suit, Kingsley was dressed in Sam’s favorite of all his new suits—an Edwardian-style formal tuxedo—vest, tails and an open collar. And of course, the boots she’d given him.

“It’s perfect,” he said as they stood at the ledge of the balcony overlooking the empty play pit below. “
Parfait.
And you did all of it.”

“You paid for it.”

“You made my dream come true,” he said. “Worth every penny. It’s everything I wanted and more.”

“I have to show you the best part.” Sam took him by the hand and led him past the bar to a door at the back. They walked through a large storage room that led to a hallway that led to another hallway that led downstairs and to the hall of the masters.

“What is this?” Kingsley asked as she stopped at a door—second to last one on the right.

“Your playroom.” She pulled out a key chain and unlocked the door. She left Kingsley standing on the threshold while she stepped in and lit a lamp. “What do you think?”

Kingsley’s eyes widened as he stepped into the room and looked around. Sheer white fabric hung over the walls and divided the bed from a side room full of kink accoutrements. Silk-covered sofas and pillows lay about in artful arrangements.

“It looks like...” Kingsley began.

“I told the decorator to think Lawrence of Arabia, Omar Sharif or a desert king. He did good.”

More than good, the room was magnificent. No one could walk into this room and not immediately want to lie atop the bed with its blue, red and gold pillows and offer up their body and soul to the master of the house.

“Sam, I can’t...” Kingsley’s voice trailed off. “How did you know I loved Lawrence of Arabia?”

“I called the padre and asked him for ideas. He said something about T. E. Lawrence being kinky?”

“He did love a good flogging, I hear.”

“I have one more little tiny gift for you.” She pulled it from her pocket and put it in his hand.

“A key chain?” he asked, holding up the silver fleur-de-lis.

“You need a key chain for your keys to the kingdom. I had this one made for you. But not only the key chain. There’s a key on it which goes to a lock.”

“What’s the lock?” he asked, finding the tiny key.

“This one.” Sam grinned as she pointed to the little silver lock that hung over the top button on her suit trousers. “I told you I put a lock on my pants. I wasn’t kidding.”

“And you gave me the key?” Gone was all his cynicism, all his sarcasm.

“If you still want me, I’m willing to try. I also wasn’t kidding when I said if I had to be with any man, it would be you.”

“Sam...” He wrapped his fingers tight around the key chain. “Of course I want you.”

“We have an hour before the club opens. I can’t promise I’m going to be any good at it.” Her voice shook, but she never lost her smile. “But I know a lot of queer girls who fuck guys. They say it’s fun. A fun change of pace. And it’s you, and I love being with you, so why not?”

Kingsley opened his hand again and traced the edges of the fleur-de-lis key chain.

“Why not?” he repeated. “I can give you one reason why not. Because you’re perfect the way you are, Sam. And I love you the way you are. And you never have to change for me. And I hate to admit it and never tell him I said this, but Søren is right. I have all the lovers I need. What I could use is a partner and a friend and a second-in-command.”

“I am your partner and your friend and your second-in-command already.”

“Then I have all I need.” Kingsley pressed the keys to his chest over his heart. “But don’t think I’m not tempted. But I also know you’re a little relieved, aren’t you? Hmm?” He tapped her under the chin.

Sam winced. “A little,” she admitted. “But also sad. Sort of. I wanted to do something special for you.”

“You gave me my kingdom. You gave me all of this.” He swept his hand around the room, the perfect room she’d created for him.

Sam took two steps forward and wrapped her arms around him. He held her close and tight and tears escaped her eyes.

“Can I tell you something crazy and inappropriate while standing in the middle of your new kink playroom?” she asked.

“Please,” he said.

“I think you’ll make an amazing father someday.”

“I think that is the best thing to say in the middle of this room,” Kingsley said. “If I’m going to be a father someday, the child will likely be conceived in here.”

He gazed once more around the room. It was everything he could ever ask for. Almost everything.

“There is one thing I’d like to do in this room before we open. With you. I think I need to get it out of my system.”

“Anything,” she said. “I’m your girl.”

Kingsley put the keys in his suit pants pockets and took a deep breath. He reached out and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, the other arm around her waist. He dipped her back as if they were in an old Hollywood movie and kissed her. And Sam, God bless her—Sam kissed him back as if her life depended on it. He kissed her mouth, she kissed his tongue. He bit her bottom lip. She bit his top. She ravished his mouth and he ravished her in return. He raided her, plundered her and sundered her. The world turned to light and heat, and if he opened his eyes and found himself standing in the middle of the desert with the sun blazing down on to them, he wouldn’t be surprised, the kiss was that shockingly, knee-knockingly, world-rockingly hot.

And then it was over.

Kingsley stood her up on her feet and took a step back.

“Bon,”
he said, and straightened his jacket. “I needed that.
Merci.
”

Sam blinked a few times.

“You are very welcome.” She smoothed down her vest, feigned a faint and Kingsley hauled her back to her feet. “Thank you, Captain.” She gave him a jaunty salute.

“No fainting.”

“That was a helluva kiss. Maybe I’ll just go lie down until it’s time to open the club. Maybe over here on the bed with my hand down my pants.” She started for his bed, but Kingsley grabbed her by the arm.

“Later,” he said. “I have a gift for you, too.”

“A gift? For me?”

“Pour toi, oui.”

“What is it?” Sam asked as Kingsley led her out into the hallway.

“Nothing much,” Kingsley said. “A small token of my affection. You went above and beyond the call of duty. I thought you should be rewarded.”

“You already pay me to do the best job in the world. I don’t need anything else from you.”

“You need this.”

“If it’s big I’m going to feel shitty,” Sam said. “I only gave you a key chain. I didn’t even give you one of those World’s Greatest Boss coffee mugs. I should do that. I’m going to get you a World’s Greatest Boss coffee mug.”

Kingsley unlocked a door—an all-white door with an all-white doorknob.

“Your gift,” Kingsley said and opened the door.

Sitting on the white bed in the middle of the room was Blaise in a gold satin cocktail dress in all her Gilda-esque glory.

“Kingsley asked me if I’d spend a little time with you tonight,” Blaise said, giving Sam a seductive red-lipped grin. “I can’t ever tell that man no, can I, monsieur?”

“Oh, Kingsley...” Sam rested her head on his chest for a moment and sighed. “There aren’t enough coffee mugs in the world.”

41

KINGSLEY STROLLED THROUGH
the club, The 8th Circle. He looked in every room, inspected every corner. His club. His kingdom. His home. He stood alone in the hallway behind the balcony bar and listened. The doors had been opened, the people had arrived, the party had only begun. Everywhere he heard voices, laughter, erotic whispers and murmurs and secrets. Alone with no one to see him, he smiled. He’d done it. They’d done it, he and Sam. Only took nine months, two breakups and one physical assault on a televangelist, but they’d done it.

He heard footsteps behind him and smelled something cold, clean and pure in the air.

“How’s the Virgin Queen?” Kingsley asked, turning around to face Søren. “Did you have your talk with her and tell her to knock before coming into my house next time?”

Kingsley had thrown a pre-opening night party at his town house a few nights ago and a certain sixteen-year-old girl had wandered into the middle of it.

“In her defense,” Søren said, “Eleanor was stranded in the city and came to your house for help. I’m afraid she saw a few things that can’t be unseen.”

“She saw me.”

“That’s what I was referring to,” Søren said. “Did she say anything to you?”

“No, but I think she wanted to claw my eyes out,” Kingsley said, recalling how he’d come face-to-face with the black-haired, fire-eyed sixteen-year-old minx on his staircase a few days earlier.

“She wants to claw my eyes out now,” Søren said. “I’m not her favorite person at the moment.”

“Did you punish her for crashing my party?”

“She’s being punished, yes.”

“You beat her?”

“Worse. I grounded her.”

Kingsley laughed, but Søren, he only smiled. A pained smile.

“She’ll fit in here someday,” Kingsley said. He wondered if he’d made a mistake all those months ago when Søren made his offer, his offer that the three of them could be together, lovers, if Kingsley could promise to be faithful to them. He’d said no for two reasons—he hadn’t believed the offer was real. And he hadn’t seen Eleanor yet. Ah,
c’est la vie
.
He’d still have Eleanor someday—Søren had promised. And he had the rest of the city to seduce until then.

“She will,” Søren said. “I look forward to bringing her here.”

“We could always use an extra dominatrix.”

Søren glared at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Kingsley said. “If that girl is a submissive, I’m a virgin.”

“She’ll submit to me.”

“You’re going to regret you ever met that girl. She’s a tiger in a kitten’s body.”

Søren smiled enigmatically. “I always liked cats.”

Kingsley only laughed. Time would tell what sort of beast Søren’s little kitten would grow into. Whatever she turned into, Kingsley could already feel her claws in him.

“Do you like it? The club?” Kingsley asked, glancing around.

“Does it matter if I do or not?” Søren asked, amusement in his eyes.

“No,” Kingsley said. “I love it.”

“So do I.”

“Thank God,” Kingsley said, sagging against the wall with relief. “I built it for you. This is your playground. You’ll be safe here. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I know you will. I trust you.”

Kingsley stood up straighter and took a breath.

“I have much sinning to do tonight. No time to dally,” he said, and headed for the door.

“Kingsley?”

He turned around.

“I’m proud of you,” Søren said.

Kingsley looked at him and asked the question that had been plaguing him for nine months.

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” Kingsley asked. “You knew where I lived, where I was.”

“I wanted to,” Søren said. “I knew you could find me as easily as I could find you. When you didn’t, I assumed you didn’t want to find me.”

“I thought the same thing,” Kingsley said, “that you didn’t want to find me. It’s good then that your Virgin Queen got herself arrested.”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“You won’t leave me again, will you?” Kingsley asked.

Søren sighed.

“You keep forgetting...”

“Right. I left you.”

“Will you leave me again?” Søren asked. “Even if we never...”

“No,” Kingsley said. “You’re right. I have all the lovers I could want. It’s friends I need.”

“What about family?”

“I need that even more.”

Søren walked to him, put his arm around him and embraced him like an equal, like a friend. It wasn’t what he wanted from Søren, but he knew it was what he needed.

“I’m still going to try to get you into bed,” Kingsley said as he pulled back and straightened his black tailcoat.

“Do your worst,” Søren said with all his old, cold arrogance, and Kingsley decided then and there he would get Søren back into bed with him even if it killed him.

And considering it was Søren, it might.

Kingsley and Søren walked through the door and found Sam behind the bar.

“Check this out, King,” Sam said. She lined up three champagne flutes. She poured the champagne into the flutes. Once empty she tossed the bottle in a spin and caught it by the neck.

“Tom Cruise can kiss my ass,” she said in triumph.

“Very good,” Søren said. When he reached for his champagne glass, Sam dipped her head and sniffed his arm.

“Sam?” Søren asked.

“Just a second.” Sam pulled back Søren’s sleeve and pressed her nose to his wrist. She inhaled deeply. Kingsley watched in curiosity and amusement.

“Why are you smelling me, Sam?” Søren asked.

“Weird. I don’t smell anything,” Sam said to Kingsley.

“C’est la vie,”
Kingsley said over the top of his champagne flute. “Maybe I imagined it.”

“Let’s toast,” Sam said.

“What should we toast to?” Kingsley asked.

“To you,” Sam said.

“Agreed,” Søren said. “To Kingsley.
Vive le roi.
”

Kingsley swallowed hard and raised his glass.

“To me,” he said. “And my three dearest friends in the world.”

“Three?” Sam asked.

“The bartender, the blond and the booze.”

“And to The Eighth Circle,” Søren said, lifting his glass. “I will beat you for naming it that, one of these days.”

“Counting on it,
mon ami.
”

They clinked their glasses and drank their champagne. It was the first alcohol Kingsley had tasted in weeks. He’d been drunk on hard work and happiness since Sam had come back to him; he’d needed no other intoxicant.

“Your subjects await,” Sam said. Kingsley downed his champagne and set the flute on the bar. He tugged his vest into place and ran a hand through his hair.

He took a step forward.

“Kingsley?”

Kingsley looked back at Søren.

“Jeg elsker dig,”
Søren said.

“I hate it when you speak Danish,” Kingsley said.

“I know you do.”

“Will you tell me what it means?” Kingsley asked, too happy to be more than playfully annoyed.

“It means good luck.”

Kingsley smiled back at Søren, gave a wink to Sam and knew then exactly what to say.

He stepped right up on to the ledge that overlooked the pit below. They’d expected a hundred, maybe two hundred people. Easily five-hundred packed the pit below. He saw financiers, CEOs, artists, entertainers, poets, politicians and plebeians. He saw somebodies and nobodies, and they were all his people. He would guard them with his life. Nine months ago he’d wanted nothing more than to crawl into the bottom of a bottle and drown in the dregs. Now he had before him five hundred reasons to live. And behind him, standing at either side of him, his two most important reasons to live.

The assembled crowd slowly quieted as his presence asserted itself. When at last silence reigned, he smiled down at them and in a loud clear voice spoke one and only one sentence to them all.

“Welcome to the Kingdom.”