Chapter 28

Has this man lost his fucking mind?

I push off his chest, turn for the edge of the bed, fury on his behalf burning in my stomach.

He saved me.

Literally.

And he thinks…

Unable to keep my eyes away from him, my gaze is drawn back over my shoulder.

And I freeze.

Because the look in his eyes…well it's not one I thought I would ever see on the cocky hockey player's face.

I turn and crawl back into his arms, disturbing Zeus, who gives me a small disapproving "woof!"

Mentally promising him all of the belly rubs later, I clamber onto King's lap, cup his face in my hands, and hold his head steady. "You are a wonderful man," I whisper, hating the disbelief that blooms in his eyes at the words. "You are," I say again, brushing my lips over his.

Not deeply.

Not with the intense spark that ends with us both being naked.

But long enough to watch the pain of the past disappear.

He covers my hands with my own, peels them from his face and presses a kiss to each palm. My heart squeezes hard. "Thank you," he murmurs.

"King," I begin, knowing that the past is riding him, that there's some part of him that doesn't believe me.

A few words in one conversation aren't going to make that better.

So, I bite back the urge to keep digging, to convince him of the conviction in my heart, to convince him of what I've seen through his actions.

Kingston Bang is a good person.

I can have that printed on a billboard and I still don't think it will sink in.

So…I'll just have to convince him of that fact.

He deserves more.

"Thank you," I say. "I don't know if I ever explicitly thanked you for what you did with Phillip?—"

"You did."

My eyes lock with his, those pools of warm blue water that I want to dive into, to spend eternity floating in. "I hope you know that I really?—"

"I do."

"And that I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't?—"

"You would have been okay." He tucks me against his chest, kisses the top of my head. "You would have been okay because you're a fighter, a survivor." Fingers under my chin. "And you have Jean-Michel on your side."

That has me grinning, thinking about all of the ways that Jean-Michel has looked after me over the years. Rescuing me from a shitty job. Treating me like a daughter. Praising my work. Encouraging me to keep pushing. Supporting my rescue. Even keeping my secret from Mama Bang. "More like a grumpy, domineering fairy godmother who's determined to get his way."

King stills.

Then he does the most wonderful thing…

He laughs.

"What?" I ask as Zeus wakes up enough to crawl up King's chest, fluffy wriggly body bouncing as he joins in on the excitement.

"Nothing," King says, still chortling. "I'm just picturing Jean-Michel, killer businessman who dominates the boardroom and can eviscerate you with a look, sporting fairy wings and a magic wand."

I giggle.

"See?" he teases, tucking my hair behind my ear. "It's funny."

And, God, I really love it when he does that.

A gentle tuck, roughened fingertips running over the shell of my ear, caressing the sensitive lobe.

Running down the front of my throat.

I shiver, and—as always—he notices.

And he does something about it, tucking me against his chest, drawing the blankets over us, coaxing Zeus to lay down in front of me, so I'm the filling in a fluffer-man sandwich.

It's sweet.

It's…pretty much all I've ever wanted—to feel safe and secure and protected.

My throat is tight and my eyes sting but I push that down and I commit this moment to memory.

Because who knows when I'll have it again?

Who knows how long it will last?

But I do know exactly how precious it is.

And that's why I tuck this feeling away, why I vow to keep it safe.

"Why is Jean-Michel your fairy godmother?" he asks as he wraps his arm around my belly, drawing me even more flush against him.

I give it to him.

King had taken away any hope of me hiding anything from him when he saw the bruises on my throat, when he tended the cuts on my feet.

When he shared what was eating him up inside about his ex, his dad.

I don't know it all, and he doesn't know everything about me either.

But…we have these slender threads of understanding connecting us now—cactus to Prickly Princess to Cactus Queen, runaway bride to safe spot to land, cocky bachelor hockey player to wounded nice guy with a heart of gold.

And brusque billionaire to…

Fairy godmother.

So, I send out another thread to the man holding me, knowing that it's going to strengthen our connection, knowing I'm playing with fire.

But I give into it anyway.

And I tell him the story of knowing Chrissy in high school, but not being all that close even though I liked her a lot (because Jean-Michel is the aforementioned scary). I tell him of our reconnecting later and my chance meeting with her dad during a presentation I was putting on with my former employer.

"If you think that Jean-Michel is brusque, you should have met Donovan. He was—and still is—the biggest asshole I've ever had the displeasure of knowing."

"Where does he work?"

I freeze at the deadly tone, and then roll toward him, hand resting on his chest, able to feel his heart beating steadily below. And, yup, I was right. He's scowling, eyes threatening murder.

Inexplicably, that has my mouth tipping up, warmth blooming in my belly.

I've seen that look on his face before, and probably, a man committing acts of violence on my behalf shouldn't give me the warm fuzzies, but it does. The furious expression on his face settles me. In fact, half-expecting him to demand Donovan's last name, social security number, and contact information amuses me.

"Don't worry," I say, touching his cheek, losing my battle to contain the rest of my smile.

He scowls.

I go on, "Jean-Michel took care of him."

King's scowl fades and the fury in his body softens.

Though, not by that much.

I want to laugh.

But I don't.

Because…this man who would come to my defense in a heartbeat thinks that he's not good, not worthy.

It makes absolutely no sense.

And it's why my new mission is to make him see how much value he brings to the world, to the lives of those around him.

To…me.

So, I tell him the story of Jean-Michel stepping in when Donovan decided to berate me in front of a boardroom of higher-ups. I tell him about Jean-Michel taking a look at my work and poaching me from Donovan's company on the spot.

I tell him about how Donovan's company went bankrupt—somehow, because obviously my fairy godmother couldn't have possibly (cough) have caused it to go under by becoming a direct competitor instead of a collaborator.

And then I tell him more.

About Chrissy and my friendship, and him funding my first rescues. I tell him about the dinners at his place with Chrissy and I cackling and taking over the TV, and how he'd never liked Phillip but had still helped my ex get his current job. I tell him about Jean-Michel going to bat for me when I pushed for a change in marketing and how he never made it feel like I couldn't talk to him, no matter the hour.

I tell him how all of that made me miss my dad.

And how much I loved that I could have someone like him in my life.

And how I also hated it…because it hurts to remember what I lost.

I don't stop there, though.

I keep going.

I tell King everything that I've ever hidden away like a deep, dark secret.

I give him more than I've ever given anyone.

Because I'm in too deep.

And I have no hope of pulling back.