Reign of a King: A Dark Billionaire Romance (Kingdom Duet Book 1)

Did I say I could survive six months in Jonathan’s company?

It’s only been two weeks and I’m already at my wits’ end.

Every day, I’ve gone back to the house, shaking in anticipation of what he’ll do next. What buttons he’ll push. What ludicrous demands he’ll make.

Every dinner and breakfast, Jonathan sits me on his lap and makes me eat my entire plate.

It’s not even about the food anymore.

The way he touches me so unapologetically, or spanks my arse when I defy him, has become a habit. Worse, it’s become something I look forward to.

I shouldn’t.

Jonathan isn’t the type of man I can get lost in or even allow close.

However, the moment he yanks me down on his lap, I don’t even protest anymore.

It’s become the most natural place to be.

After every session of fingering, torturing my nipples, and holding my throat hostage, Jonathan leaves me in the dining room alone with my scattered thoughts and my shaking limbs.

Sometimes, he’ll fetch me from my room when I’m late for breakfast, or lay me on the bed and spank me for giving him the attitude he hates so much.

Other times, he’ll send me emails — no texts, because in his words, those are juvenile. The last exchanges were between last night and this morning.

From: Jonathan King

To: Aurora Harper

Subject: I’ll be Late but Don’t You Dare Sleep

Lie on your bed, face down, and don’t put any clothes on.

From: Jonathan King

To: Aurora Harper

Subject: Second Reminder to Not Fall Asleep

You better be on your fucking stomach when I walk in, or that arse will pay the price.

I did fall asleep, more out of defiance than actually being tired, and my arse did pay the price before he wrenched a dizzying orgasm out of me that knocked me out for real.

Today, I woke up late because of how exhausted I felt.

From: Jonathan King

To: Aurora Harper

Subject: Your Morning Will Take a Turn for The Worse in Exactly Sixty Seconds.

Every minute you’re late for breakfast is extra punishment. In case you want to sit at all today, come down. Now.

I went down, ten minutes late, and true to his word, I’m sitting sideways to not put pressure on my arse.

In no time, I’ve grown attached to his emails and the orders in them. The way he demands my attention and confiscates it as if it’s always been his for the taking.

It doesn’t help that I hear his commanding voice when reading them. Jonathan’s authority is one of the few things I’ll freely admit is attractive.

There’s something about a man who takes what he wants with powerful self-assurance. I’ve always known I had a tendency to connect with dangerous men, but this is the worst possible scenario to practise that.

Other than the email exchanges and the power games, it’s almost like we’re living completely separate lives. Jonathan never invites me to his room or spends the night in mine.

And I’m thankful for that. After all the sexual stimulation and the explosive orgasms he coerces out of me, I need some time alone to come down from the high and the guilt trip I always find myself drowning in.

The shame of enjoying his touch when I shouldn’t, and the reality of what Jonathan actually is always slams into me afterwards.

So to make myself forget about that, I’ve been sneaking into Alicia’s room whenever he’s not here — and behind Margot’s back. She’s as stand-offish as her tyrant master. The butler, Tom, doesn’t speak either. Seriously. If I hadn’t heard him ask Margot about something once, I would’ve suspected he was a mute.

There’s also Harris, who joins Jonathan in his office or sometimes interrupts our breakfasts with a snobbish expression smearing on his face. He’s the man in smart glasses who came with Jonathan to our office that first day. His bland eyes have the same disregard for humans as his CEO.

I swear the tyrant handpicks those who orbit his haughty arse so that they’re an extension of him.

Anyway, my snooping in Alicia’s room hasn’t been useful. I can’t bring myself to continue reading those books either. I just…can’t.

The moment I open them, I get dark flashbacks filled with vacant eyes and duct tape. There’s a reason I don’t read thrillers and keep to chick lit. I spent a long time slamming Pandora’s box shut, and I can’t willingly open it again.

Not that Jonathan would leave evidence behind. Next up, I need to go into that locked room, which I assume is his office.

I haven’t mustered the courage to go up there when he’s home. I might enjoy the spanking and how my arse feels afterwards, even now, but I’m not stupid enough to purposefully bring out his wrath.

Self-preservation has always been my strength.

Besides, the more time I spend in his company, the more anxious I get about why he’s not taking the next step.

Jonathan has never tried to fuck me. Not even once. He seems content with owning my body, then turning it against me in the most brutal way possible.

Whenever I sit on his lap, I feel his hard-on, but he’s never acted on it.

Not that I want him to.

I don’t.

It’s just that the unknown is keeping me on my toes.

“Earth to Aurora!”

I startle, biting my lower lip and the pen. Ouch!

I’m on the sofa, looking at proofs of the designs. Or was. Until I got lost in my head.

Layla slides an iced coffee in front of me and takes a long slurp of hers. Her baggy trousers fall all around her as she sits opposite me, knees splayed wide apart, and leans her elbows on her thighs.

That’s the same position her army brothers sit in when they’re in town. She’s such a tomboy, and the most adorable thing is that she doesn’t even notice it. When I call her out on it, she thinks I’ve lost my mind.

“Okay, shoot.”

I take a sip of my coffee. “What?”

“Talk to me, mate. I’m all ears.”

“About what?”

“About what you’ve been daydreaming about lately.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Since you moved in with Johnny, you’ve been distant and often get lost in that pretty little head of yours.”

“I have not.”

“You have, too. He’s consuming you, isn’t he?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” I sigh and push the proofs away. I’m not focused enough to do a good job at it anyway, so I might as well stop pretending. “Hey, Lay, can I ask you something?”

“I’m your man. Shoot.”

“I know you’re saving your virginity for marriage, but you know stuff about stuff. Being nosy and all.” Layla’s mum, her aunts, cousins and extended family — which is huge — are really forthcoming about sex, but only with their female friends and family.

I might have had sex before, but Layla knows more about it than I ever will. She’s an encyclopaedia in practically everything.

“First of all, suck my D. Second of all, I’m not nosy. I like to know things so I’m prepared.”

“Okay, fine. So my question is…” I trail off, wetting my lips.

“Any day now.”

“What does it mean if a man only likes oral?”

“He needs Viagra. Wait a second, Johnny needs Viagra? Way to ruin my daddy fantasy. Hey, what do you think his reaction will be if I mail him a pack?”

I burst out laughing. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not? I’m giving the man a boost. If anything, he should thank me.”

“It’s not like that. He does get…you know…hard.”

“Then his performance must be rubbish.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I actually don’t think so either.”

“What do you mean?”

“He seems like the type of man who commands everything, even in the bedroom. Control is his kink.”

She can say that again.

Layla drinks her coffee, seeming deep in thought. “How about you ruin it?”

I pause with the straw halfway to my mouth. “Ruin what?”

“His control. People like Jonathan get off on knowing the result before they even go in, so when you destroy that pattern, they act out, either by showing their ugly side or their hidden side. Both are their true selves.”

“I do defy him. It’s not always ‘yes, sir’ or ‘whatever you wish, sir’.”

“That’s probably not enough to warrant him acting out.”

“How do I know I’ve pushed him enough? He’s so unemotional, it drives me insane.”

“Remember that day when he barged in here to announce that this company was now his property in front of Ethan Steel? That was his reaction to the way you pushed him.”

It was. Jonathan said he’d put me in my place, and he did, ever so savagely.

“So you’re saying Ethan is a key to Jonathan’s ugly or hidden side.”

“Could be. Do you know their history?”

“If I recall correctly, they were best friends who turned into rivals as their respective companies grew simultaneously. Then a few years ago, they fell from each other’s graces. Ethan went into a coma and recently returned to the scene. The entire time, Jonathan has been ruling on his own.”

“That’s common knowledge, but I have the inside scoop.” She grins like a Cheshire cat.

“Inside scoop?”

“My friend’s cousin used to work in the Steel mansion in Birmingham — you know, his main residence aside from the one in London. Anyway, while you were targeting Ethan, I asked around about his history, and apparently, Jonathan caused the death of Ethan’s wife. Some even say it was an affair, but no one confirms that.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know, right? Why would she want Jonathan when she has Ethan? Sister didn’t know what she had.”

“Lay, be serious.”

“I am. Ethan is better looking than Jonathan, and he doesn’t have Bastard written in bold letters on his forehead.”

Ethan is handsome, but he doesn’t have the lethal edge Jonathan does. His eyes aren’t a storm brewing in the distance, threatening to take everyone hostage.

I shake my head. Did I just defend Jonathan? That’s not allowed, even in my mind.

“Anyway, Ethan is Daddy in another universe.”

“Lay!”

“What? You get your daddy. Why can’t I fantasise about mine?”

“Bugger off, you twat.”

“Fine, fine. Live the daddy fantasy for both of us.”

“I’m not!”

She stands up, but before leaving, she cups her mouth with both hands and whispers, “Daddy.”

I throw a pen after her and her throaty laughter echoes down the hall.

Shaking my head, I focus back on the design I was working on. Something about it is bugging me, but I can’t put my finger on it.

My hand finds my watch and a sense of calm engulfs me. Alicia’s memory has always calmed me down and filled me with so much inspiration.

There’s a knock on the door, and I expect Layla to be back for more taunts, but then I recall she doesn’t knock. And neither do I.

We haven’t had any boundaries since we met at uni — aside from the past that I’m shielding her away from.

Jessica, my assistant, appears at the threshold. She’s petite with dark brown skin and huge, striking eyes. “Ms Harper, there’s someone here to see you.”

“I thought I didn’t have any appointments until this afternoon.”

“Yes, but he said it’s urgent. He’s a solicitor.”

“Let him in.” Could this be another one of Jonathan’s games?

Jessica disappears. Soon after, a middle-aged man with dark brown hair and pale hazel eyes appears at my door. I stand and take his hand as he offers a handshake.

“Aurora Harper. How may I help you?”

“Stephan Wayne. I’m Maxim Griffin’s solicitor.”

I retrieve my hand from his at supersonic speed, as if I’ve been hit by lightning. My breathing catches; it takes everything in me not to collapse or run and hide.

“How…how did you find me?”

“It wasn’t an easy thing to do, but blood speaks, Ms Griffin.”

“My name is Aurora Harper.”

“Why, yes.” His expression remains unchanged as he motions at the sofa. “Aren’t you going to offer me a seat?”

“Get out of my office. Now.”

“That’s very unfortunate, Ms Harper. I was hoping to get you on the witness stand for Mr Griffin’s parole hearing.”

This time, I stumble backwards. I nearly fall on the sofa but manage to hold myself up at the last minute. My legs shake so prominently, I can’t contain my stance or my emotions.

My worst nightmare rushes to the forefront of my mind, as if it’s been lurking right beneath the surface all along.

Vacant Eyes.

Blood.

Duct tape.

The look of absolute desolation.

No. Not again. No.

“He’s not eligible for parole.” My voice is barely audible.

“The judge changed his mind for exemplary behaviour.”

This can’t be true.

This is a nightmare.

My heart beats loud and fast. I’m that girl running in the forest, my breathing constricted, my lungs suffocating, my head about to snap from the pain.

He’s coming.

He’s there.

They are also there.

“Ms Harper.”

My head snaps up to meet the solicitor’s gaze.

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind? If you tell the judge you were young and confused —”

“I wasn’t young and confused. I saw a monster for who he is and acted on it. Now, leave my office and never return again.” My throat hurts from the force of my words. “You should be ashamed for defending a man like him. Those women could’ve been your daughter, your wife, your sister.”

Stephan’s expression doesn’t change as he reaches into his jacket and retrieves an envelope and a business card. When I don’t take them, he places them on the table. “Call me if you change your mind.”

As soon as he leaves, I drop onto the sofa, my hands and legs trembling, sweat running down my back and temples.

My heart aches and I feel like I’m about to combust.

I pull my knees to my chest as memories start trickling back in. The attacks. The slurs.

The assault.

No. Please no.

The envelope stares at me. I know who it’s from. I contemplate burning it, throwing it away, but the need to solve the puzzle strikes me again.

And this time, I can’t ignore it.

I open it with unsteady fingers. Plain white paper with his messy handwriting taunts me.

Remember Muse,

Next time we see each other, either I kill you or you kill me.