Chapter Four

Abbie

It's been a long day. I want to scream, yell, and kick up a fuss. Anything to relieve this aching pressure in my chest. I feel like I held my breath for too long and now it's all rushing out at once, overwhelming me with its intensity.

Being around Cade Kings does something to me that I can't quite put into words. His mere presence ignites a whirlwind of emotions within me, a storm that I'm not accustomed to. He indeed makes me nervous…. Not that I'll ever admit it to him. I just wish I could figure him out.

I've never met a man as contradictory as Cade. He's arrogant, yet charismatic. Intense, yet witty. He just has a way of keeping me on my toes.

Now that I'm here, in his home, it's starting to feel like I made a big mistake. Maybe I shouldn't have accepted his offer. Somehow, I managed to convince myself that the weekend would be all about work but, I can tell from the way he looks at me that my interview is the last thing on his mind.

That's not the problem, though… The problem is that I don't think I can resist him for long. Not with the way my body tingles all over whenever he's around me. Sometimes I find myself wanting to melt into the mysterious dark pool of his eyes and drown in the sensual promises that they hold. No matter how hard I deny it, I'm attracted to Cade King.

But I'm determined never to act on my attraction to him. I know men like Cade – powerful, wealthy men who think they can get everything they want at the snap of their fingers… I will not become one of his playthings, that's for sure. I'll focus on doing the story, and that's all the weekend is going to be about.

For now, doing the story is the most important thing to me. I need that promotion. It's the only way I can publish stories that really matter. For some time now, I've been tired of doing the same washed-out, recycled stories that I've been seeing in the industry for years. I want to do something new, something meaningful. But when I try to push my ideas forward, I get blocked on all sides. The magazine is more concerned with publishing stories that sell; it doesn't matter that they have no substance.

It's why I jumped at the opportunity to become Editor-in-Chief even though the condition that came with it was nearly impossible. But here I am now, at the mercy of a man who is a threat to my sanity and self-control.

"Here's your room, Miss Abigail," Mary says, stopping in front of a door at the end of the long corridor.

Despite the ridiculous show that she led earlier, I like Cade's housekeeper. It probably has something to do with her kind face and a warm smile.

"Please call me Abbie," I say.

She beams at me, her pretty brown eyes sparkling. "Only if you call me Mary."

"Okay, Mary," I reply, returning her smile.

"Rest up now. I'll be back to inform you when dinner is ready," Mary says, pushing the door open to reveal a large, beautifully-decorated room. She turns to look at me, her smile unwavering. "In the meantime, do you need anything?"

"No, thanks."

"Let me know if you change your mind. Just ring the little bell by your bedside," she says on her way out.

After Mary leaves, I grab my phone from my purse and dial Terry Coleman's number. Terry is the director at Opaque and the one who bequeathed this special assignment to me. He's aware of my mission in Cade's home, and I'm supposed to report my progress at regular intervals.

"What's up, Winston?" he says the moment he picks up the phone.

"We arrived at the estate," I say, not bothering with pleasantries. I really don't care for Terry. He's a slimy, misogynistic jerk who only cares about himself. I try as much as possible to be civil with him, but I'm not going to suck up to him like the other employees at Opaque just to get my way.

"That's no news, Winston," Terry says in his usual dismissive manner. "I need you to bring me something solid. You have to dig. He's got to have a medicine cabinet somewhere in that big house of his."

"I don't see how that could help. You asked me for a profile, not his medical history."

"It could be our breakthrough!" he complains. "It doesn't have to be drugs. Even antidepressants could work. Imagine the clicks we would get on that – ‘The Depressed Billionaire.'"

The glee in his voice at the thought of exploiting someone's potential mental illness appalls me. "I'm not pawing through his private belongings. That's just wrong."

"No, Winston. That's what journalism is all about," Terry counters. "The magazine is sinking and we need a break. A profile story on Cade King will turn the tables around, so it's important you give it your all. This is your only opportunity to prove yourself, Abbie. Don't mess it up."

My chest tightens up in anger. I want to tell him that I don't need to prove myself to him or anyone. I want to scream at him to shove his promotion where the sun doesn't shine. I want to run away from this place and never look back… But I can't do any of that. I've worked too hard to be here and I can't mess it up now.

"Yes, sir," I snarl.

"Great! Goodbye for now, Winston."

He drops the call and I close my eyes, falling to the bed with a soft sigh. I feel drained and tired all of a sudden. Raising my phone to my face, I dial the one person in the world that I know can make everything feel alright again.

"Hey, sissy!"

My twin sister's soothing voice washes over me like a gentle breeze, instantly calming the raging storm in my heart.

"Hey, Grace. How're you?"

"I'm quite fine. The baby isn't kicking around so much, so I couldn't wish for a better day," she replies, and I can hear the contentment in her voice. Sometimes I find myself wishing for the kind of happiness that Grace found with her husband. She seems like a whole new person since she met him and I couldn't be happier for her.

"How are Derek and the kids?"

"They're all fine. Kylie and Ember are in school and Derek is out of town on a business trip," Grace replies, her voice turning wistful at the mention of her husband. "By the way, Kylie misses you so much and keeps asking when you'll come around."

"I feel terrible," I say with a soft sigh. "I haven't seen my niece and nephew in months, and we live in the same city. What kind of aunt does that make me?"

Someone who's obsessed with work. Someone who's slowly slipping away from friends and family who really care about her.

"Hey, sissy… what's wrong?" Grace asks softly, her voice filled with concern. "This isn't really about Kylie and Ember, is it?"

I should have known she'd figure out something wasn't right. We've always been in tune with each other's feelings ever since we were little girls. For a moment, I think about telling her the events of the past few days, but with her alone and pregnant, I decide not to stress her out.

"I'm fine, Grace," I reply, trying to sound perky. "It's just… work has been hectic lately."

"I'm sorry about that," Grace says. "Is there a way I can help?

"I'm not taking money from you, Grace."

She sighs. "It's just a loan, Abbie. You always say you want to start your own publication. What about the travel blog you used to talk about?"

"I gave up on that idea a lot time ago, Gracy," I reply honestly. "Let's say I outgrew it. I want something more solid now… something meaningful. I want to write stories for people without a voice, people who've been oppressed into silent. I want to write stories that actually matter."

"Then do it."

I smile a little, wishing that I could be so confident. "That's what I'm trying to do. Once I'm done with this job, I can write whatever I want." I'm suddenly interrupted by a light tap on the door. "I need to go now. Give the kids my love."

"Okay," Grace says. "I'll talk to you later. I love you."

"I love you too."

I drop the call and head to the door. I open it to find pretty-faced maids standing on the other side. I recognize them from the welcome party earlier. Each of them is holding a large box and beaming at me like we're all in on some delicious secret.

"May we come in?" one asks, and I nod in response. They both walk in and lay the items in their hands on the bed. One of them motions for me to open the boxes, smiling even bigger. Curious, I take off the lid of the nearest box to see a stunning red dress inside.

"What's this?"

"Your attire for the evening, ma'am." One of the maids takes it out and lays it on the bed. It has a halter neck, little crystals on its bodice, and a thigh-high slit. It comes with a light, shimmery scarf. I shake my head, opening the other box. It contains a pair of red stilettos and diamond jewelry: earrings, bracelet, and a necklace. I stop myself from gasping or touching the exquisite set of jewels. Instead, I turn to face the beaming maids.

"Who do these belong to?"

"You, of course, ma'am," one of the maids, a blue-eyed blonde, replies.

"Why?"

"It's a gift from your host," the other, a pretty petite girl with doe-brown eyes, says. "Mr. Kings would like you to join him for dinner on the garden terrace, and he'd like for you to dress in these. It comes with a note," she says, handing it to me.

I take the note from her, taking a deep breath before opening it and scanning my eyes over the beautiful, sprawling handwriting:

Hey, Kitty –

You are to wear these to dinner tonight. I'm sure you'll look lovely in them. Dinner is by seven. Don't be late.

CK.

A feeling of anger unfurls inside of me as I stare at the note in my hands. The emotions that I've repressed all day come rushing to the surface, threatening to erupt into an uncontrollable volcano.

What does he think I am? Some air-brained Barbie that he can order around? He must think I was bluffing when I told him I won't play his game. If he thinks he can sway me with silly things like a cheap show of wealth and expensive gifts, then he's got another thing coming his way. I've had more than enough of men telling me what to do for one day.

I crumple the note in my hand and turn to face the maids with what I hope is a smile. "Thank you, ladies. You may leave now."

They don't ask any questions despite the perplexed looks on their faces. Instead, they nod in unison and leave the room.

After they leave, I go to the bathroom to freshen up, then select a random pair of jeans and a blouse from my travel bag. Putting my hair up in a messy bun, I grab my phone and recorder, then head out of the room without a second glance at the items on the bed.

I find Cade waiting for me on the garden terrace, looking sinfully handsome in a tailored black suit and a contrasting white shirt. He's left the first three buttons of his shirt open, showing a hint of the toned muscle of his chest. I notice he has on a bright red lapel pin that would have matched the red dress he picked out for me, and I watch with a mix of satisfaction and regret as the smile on his face fades when his eyes fall on me. His expression goes from perplexed to resigned, then to amused.

"Good evening, Abbie," he says, then comes around to pull my seat for me. "Please, sit."

"Thank you," I murmur grudgingly as I lower myself to the chair, holding my breath as his scent fills my head, causing me to momentarily lose my train of thought.

"You look beautiful," he says, smiling.

I look away from him, unsure if he means his words or is just teasing me. Either way, it's not the reaction I expected from him.

"Just curious, did you not like the dress I had sent?" Cades ask as he settles into his seat. Despite the lightness of his tone, I can tell he feels slighted. He probably hasn't had anyone directly disobey his orders before.

I stay silent for a while as I debate with myself whether or not to let it go.

You still need that interview. There's no need to offend the man. But you also don't want him to think he can just steamroll you like that again.

"You can't just do that," I finally blurt as I pull myself out of my thoughts.

"Do what?" he asks, looking confused. It's clear he's not acting or lying, and it only frustrates me more.

"Throw expensive things at me like I'm some doll you have. I don't know why you thought that was okay, but it's not."

Once I finish speaking, he looks stunned. "So are you angry that I did it or that I did it without asking?" he asks with a slight smile as he leans in close to me. He smells refreshing, like a cool winter breeze. I find myself wanting to lean in and take large gulps of air near him. I jerk away fast.

Those are dangerous thoughts.

"You're incorrigible, Mr. Kings."

"And you're far too adorable for your own good, Miss Winston," he says, leaning back in his seat with a playful smirk. "Shall we eat now?" He gestures at the assortment of plates, bowls, and platters on the table. "I had Mary prepare a bunch of different things because I don't know what you might like."

I find it thoughtful that he'd do that, but of course I don't admit that to him. I opt for mashed potatoes, roasted lamb, and some vegetables while Cade goes with lasagna and grilled chicken.

"How about you tell me about yourself, Miss Winston?" he asks before taking his first bite.

I cock my head to the side with a smile. "Shouldn't I be the one asking the questions, Mr. Kings?"

He chuckles, his eyes twinkling with amusement and something else… a flickering tenderness that disappears so quickly I must have imagined it.

"That's fine. Let's hear these questions," he says, arching his brows when I pull out my recorder.

"So, the first question I have is one that I know is on everyone's mind. Why the secrecy? There's this mystery surrounding you. Is that by design?" I ask.

"And what design would that be?"

"I'm sure you've seen the rumors."

His eyes meet mine, and it's like I'm pinned in place. "I know all about the rumors. I'm interested in what you think."

I chew a little longer than necessary, formulating my response. "I think a rich, powerful man doesn't hide from the world without a good reason."

He chuckles. "That's not much of an answer, is it? Come on. I'm sure you have your own theories. For all I know, you're one of those people that thinks I'm a lizard in a suit."

I smile before I can stop myself. "Hardly."

He spreads his hands. "Well?"

I take a sip of wine and plant my elbows on the table, staring him down. I decide to go with the truth. What's there to lose? "I think you're afraid of something. There's something you're avoiding. A lot of people think you're running from the law or the IRS, but I think it's something deeper than that. And I'm curious what that is."

His eyes widen, but he quickly forces a smile. "I guess you're more perceptible than I gave you credit for, Miss Winston."

"So? What is it? Why did you start hiding away in your estate?"

He clears his throat. For a moment, I think he's not going to answer me, but then he starts to speak, his voice low. "Well, it's just something that happened. It first started with this incredibly inappropriate journalist who burst into my family home during my mother's wake to take pictures of the body. It was a nightmare. My company was big, but not as big as it is now. I think ever since then, I just became a very private person. I built this estate and limited my exposure to the media."

I frown. I can't help but wonder if he thinks of me as similar to the other journalist. After all, we both burst into his life without any prior warning and in such rude ways too.

"I'm sorry, that must have been awful," I say quietly, lowering my gaze.

"Hey, that was years ago. I'm not trying to get you to feel sorry for me. It's something that happened, it was dealt with at the time, and we moved on," he says, and I nod in response.

The interview goes more smoothly than I anticipated. It feels like a wall has come down between us. Cade answers each question with a calm and measured demeanor, his responses revealing a depth of insight and clarity that I hadn't expected. And sometimes, when the question has to do with a story in his past, he tells it with such humor has me cackling with laughter. A soft, soulful song is playing somewhere in the background, and soon I find myself getting lost in the deep, velvety sound of his voice and his alluring, dark eyes.

"Can I kiss you, Abbie?" he asks, and the haze in my head suddenly clears away.

"What?"

"I want to kiss you," he responds, his gaze burning relentlessly into mine. My breath hitches in my throat, and my heart starts to pound. This time it isn't racing from anger, but desire. Raw and intense.

Snap out of it, Abbie. You're about to lose a race you haven't even started.

Grabbing my recorder off the table, I stand up hurriedly, almost knocking over the chair on which I sat. "I-I should go now. Thanks for dinner."

I start to walk away, but his hand on my wrist stops me. He tugs gently, and I find myself tumbling onto his lap. I inhale sharply as a jolt of electricity shoots through every part of my body.

"What are you doing…?" I ask, my voice coming out weaker than normal.

"I want to kiss you, Abbie," he says again, his eyes boring into mine, holding me captive. He raises his hand to my face, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their path as he caresses my lips. "It's all I've thought about since the moment I saw you causing a ruckus in my lobby."

"You saw that?" I ask, blinking at him in surprise.

"Yeah… It was fun to watch you giving those guards a run for their money. I was hooked right then."

For a moment, time seems to stand still as I stare into the endless depths of his eyes, searching for something, anything to break me out of this ensnaring web of lust. Instead, I find myself sinking deeper and deeper.

"I should go," I whisper, making a half-hearted attempt to get up from his lap, but he holds me down.

"Why are you fighting this?" he asks, his voice huskier than it was moments ago. He presses his thumb down on my lower lip, then leans forward until our mouths are mere inches apart. "Stop running, kitty. I know you want this too."

"But…"

The rest of my words become a muffled murmur as he seals his mouth over mine in a hot kiss. His lips are surprisingly soft and gentle. I gasp softly, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, sensually gliding his tongue over mine. I close my eyes, sinking into his embrace, letting myself get lost in the feel of his arms and mouth.

A deep, needy moan echoes in the silence between us, and when it dawns on me that the sound was made by me, I realize there's no going back.

I've decided to throw caution to the wind. At least for tonight.