Fierce King by Ivy Mason

Seventeen

My breath caughtat the sight of her. The dress I'd picked out fit her perfectly and, as I stood back to let her out of her room, she glanced at me shyly, her face betraying her need for my approval.

Cascading gold earrings dripped from her ears like a waterfall, with a matching necklace chain dipping in between her breasts.

The dress was also gold, a Rasario satin strapless midi dress, with roses sewn into the waistline. As soon as I saw it, I’d thought of her.

Nero had taken Coulter's mom and his brothers to Paris for the week and I wanted to take advantage of them being gone. I decided to take Rose somewhere special tonight. After warning Coulter to stay away, I brought in one of our buyers to find that special look just for her.

Somehow, I’d picked the perfect tones for her. The golden color highlighted her tan skin, the bodice giving me a flattering view of her pert breasts.

The thought of my mouth coming down to taste them made my blood boil and my cock hard. I squeezed my hand into a fist to keep myself from hiking up her skirt and taking her against the wall.

She was perfection, encapsulated in a beautiful gown, and I wanted to fuck the innocent look she was giving me right off her face.

She didn't get to worry about what I thought of her.

I could see it in her eyes, the concern that she hadn't been able to fix herself up good enough for where we were going.

Unbeknownst to her, she could show up naked and she would be the most beautiful woman in the room.

Like this, she didn't look like Lily anymore.

She looked like the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen and I hated her for it.

I didn't want to have feelings for her. Didn't want to want her. Didn't want to throw her against the wall and take her virginity, claiming her as mine.

What I did want, was to run as far and as fast as possible from here. Or to drag her kicking and screaming back to Dimitri, throwing her at his feet and telling him that she was his problem now.

She was too tempting, too beautiful, filled with an alluring sensuality that was all her own, and I hated that I wanted her wrapped around my cock for the rest of my life.

Fuming, I turned away from her questioning gaze and strode from the room. She followed me outside to the waiting car, and Grant moved in behind her, keeping an eye on her in case she tried to run.

James, the driver, opened the door to the Royce and I stepped back, allowing her inside before me. Sliding in behind her, I sat as far from her as possible, regretting not taking the limo so that I wouldn't have to feel the heat of her next to me, the smell of her soft soap cloying in my nose.

We sat in silence as we drove through the back gates, and she turned her head to stare out the window as we left the property. I didn't care that she could see where we were, because there was no chance of her escaping.

I had another car following discreetly behind us that would provide additionally security, as well as step in if she tried to run.

I glanced at her profile, taking in her narrowed eyes as she gazed out the window. Her chest was moving up and down in big breaths, and I realized with a start that she was angry.

Was she mad I hadn't told her that she looked beautiful?

Didn’t she know the allure she possessed? Her gracefulness and sensuality that made me want to sink my teeth into her tits and bury my cock in her wet pussy?

By the embarrassed red marring her cheeks, she had no idea that it took all my self control to keep from pulling her onto my lap and fucking her right here in the car.

I let her fume, keeping the distance between us. I needed it to help cool myself off.

It didn't take us long to arrive at the museum, and as soon as we pulled up, she stared up at it with an awed and surprised look on her face. Instead of stopping, we pulled around the building to the parking deck.

"Aren't they closed?" Rose glanced at me, then her mouth dropped open in surprise when a man met us at the gate, opening it for us. Her face turned back to me. "You're taking me there?"

Her voice was a surprised and delighted squeak.

I nodded, biting down on my smile, pleased that she was so happy. It had been a bet, bringing her here but, by the excited look on her face, I’d hit the nail on the head.

“How'd you know this was my favorite place?”

I gave her a knowing look, lying my ass off. "There's a lot of things I know about you, Rose."

At this, she frowned, but didn't seem surprised. Since she grew up in the life, she probably knew that we had our ways of finding out whatever we wanted about people.

James drove up to the side entrance and a woman in a suit strode towards the car. Not waiting for James to open my door, I got out and held it open for Rose. She took my offered hand and, as she slid from it, she suddenly looked nervous, tugging on her dress as she climbed out.

I pulled her close to me, murmuring in her ear as she straightened. "You look beautiful."

Big, beautiful jade eyes blinked up at me for a moment, her teeth coming down to gnaw on that lower lip briefly before she turned away from me. She stepped towards the woman waiting for us, extending her hand. “Mrs. Madison.”

Now it was me who was surprised: she knew the curator of the museum.

The woman gave her a polite smile, taking Rose's offered hand. "Please, call me Victoria.”

They shook and Rose gave a demure smile. "Wow, it's a pleasure."

She suddenly seemed very regal, her voice the perfect lilt, imbued with the right amount of enthusiasm. Her walk was graceful, moving smoothly as Victoria led us to the door.

"I'm surprised you're open," Rose murmured before waiting politely as Victoria opened the door with a special key card.

"Well," Victoria glanced at me, "it was an easy choice, considering Mr. King’s generous donations.”

Rose gave me a surprised look and I stepped forward, putting my hand on her back to guide her forward.

The lights in the museum were low but bright enough for us to make our way through the hallways. Victoria stepped out in front of us, leading us through them, and I took a back seat to the conversation, letting Victoria ask Rose what her interests were.

Rose lit up as we entered room after room, stopping to stare at the various paintings.

I'd been here several times for various charity events, and so my eyes were on Rose the whole time, watching to see which works of arts were her favorite. She seemed to enjoy the more vibrant pieces of work, or the ones that showed the most emotion.

She had no interest in the contemporary works, or the more abject ones, but rather more classical pieces.

After a while, when Rose seemed to take a particular interest in a certain room, Victoria stepped into the background, letting us explore at will. I followed silently alongside Rose, my thoughts lingering on the beauty she exuded as she stared at the paintings.

"You look bored," she told me, not looking at me, but keeping her eyes on the painting in front of us.

"I'm anything but bored."

"You haven't looked at anything," she protested.

“Not true," I responded. "I've been looking at the most stunning piece of art all night long."

At this, her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink, and she tilted her head to the side, finally looking at me with a curious gaze.

"I'm surprised your nose is so small."

"Excuse me?"

"Your nose. It's smaller than the fairy tales say it should be."

“How so?”

"Isn't it supposed to grow longer when you tell a lie?"

I pressed my lips into a firm line to keep myself from laughing. “Well, it was virtually nonexistent when I was born. But it grows longer every year."

She smiled, looking away from me to walk towards the next piece. "I see, that must be why it has a little hook ending. The weight of your lies is making it sag.”

“I do not have a hook nose.”

A shoulder came up, her teeth biting down on her smile. “If you say so.”

Amused and shaking my head, I finally tore my eyes away from her for the first time this evening to look at the painting in front of us. It was labeled ‘Sorrowful Resolve’.

"Tell me," I said, tilting my head towards the painting, “what do you like about this?"

She didn't answer right away but studied the painting, and her teeth came down on her lower lip, gnawing on it as she considered her answer.

“I’m intrigued by the look on the woman’s face."

My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to see things from her point of view. "She looks sad."

She shook her head. “She's not sad. She's conflicted."

“The title states otherwise.”

She shook her head. “No, she’s faking it.”

"How would you know that?"

"Because, I know exactly how she's feeling."

At that, my throat was suddenly dry. I turned from it, taking a step away from her. I could only assume that she was talking about Coulter and I, though it could be for many other reasons. And yet, if she was conflicted between Coulter and I, then that was a problem.

Lily had never been able to choose between us, and I hated the thought that Rose may have the same problem.

I needed her to be clear about her choice, or the game would become blurred.

Our whole future would become muddled.

She put her hand on my arm and I turned toward her, wanting to pull away from the pain cracking open inside me but, at the intense look in her eyes, I stilled, unable to move.

Her hand slowly reached up, her fingers brushing softly over my lips. “Why so sad, Prince Charming?"

“Now I’m a prince?” I ignored her question, crooking an eyebrow. “Wasn't Prince Charming the nice prince who whisked Cinderella away from her evil stepmother?"

"You took me away from Dimitri, who was a prick."

I frowned. "I'm not a good guy, Rose, don't mistake me for anything otherwise. And besides, it was Coulter who rescued you from the evil man, not me. If it had been up to me, I'd have left you with him.”

I could see the hurt in her eyes but she didn't back down. "And yet, I'm still here, with you, in this elegant museum that technically should be closed. But you asked them to open the doors after hours so that I could have a private showing. Did you do that for me?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Not everything is about you, Rose. There are other reasons I did this."

“Seriously?” She tilted her head, her face twisting into a mocking gaze. "And what are they?"

I looked away, not answering, but clenching my teeth together. I didn't like this. Her seeing me as a good guy. Her thinking that I'd done all this for her. Even though it was the truth, she didn't need to know it.

Because I hadn’t lied, I wasn't a good man.

I'd done evil, terrible things, and the quicker she knew that, the better it was for her.

She studied my eyes. "You could've taken me back to Dimitri after you found out the truth."

I swallowed down my bitter response and she tilted my head back towards her.

“Will you show me your favorite piece?” she asked me.

Conflicting emotions tore through me. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had ever asked me a question like that.

What was my favorite?

Not asking for a favor, or money, or for mercy.

I was stunned into silence for a moment and she let me have it. Let me have the quiet with my churning thoughts, not in any hurry to fill it.

I hesitated a long moment, trying to decide if I would be truthful with her, then decided, fuck it.

I gripped her hand, then strode quickly through the corridors, easily remembering the path I'd taken with my mom so many years ago.

When we got to the far end of the museum, I led her to an almost forgotten room, where the museum showcased local artists.

My heart clenched, and a rush of blood whooshed in my ears as we drew near the piece.

I almost never came here anymore. It was too painful.

We stopped, and I steeled myself, holding on to her hand like a lifeline as she looked curiously at the painting that made my heart ache every time I saw it.

She squeezed my hand, as if she could sense my pain and wanted to comfort me.

"This is your favorite?” She gazed at it curiously.

I nodded, not speaking, and her eyes roamed over it, taking it all in. I didn’t look at the painting but at her, wanting to see her reaction. I was touched that she didn't only glance at it, but that she took the time to really look at it.

“It's beautiful," she murmured. "I love the blue of the sky, the way the house is painted in yellow. I feel like," she turned to me, "it's like a beacon of hope to the artist. She loved the place in the painting.”

“You’re right.” A knot formed in my throat and my eyes stung with the tears I was holding back. My throat was thick as I answered her. "She did."

“You knew her?" She looked surprised.

I nodded. "This was her favorite place to take me, when I was a kid."

"Who was she?" Curiosity burned into her gaze and she turned to look at the painting with new eyes.

“My mother. It was her favorite vacation home, even though it was…” I glanced at the painting, remembering the simple but homey feel of it. The tree swing outside that she used to push me in. The smell of baking bread. “…small."

“The only size that matters is how big it makes our heart.” Rose reached up, brushing a finger across my cheek and I stilled. Fire burned across my skin as she traced my cheek.

I’d never felt anything like it, even with Lily.

"Where is she?" she asked.

"She's gone," I managed to bite out, and Rose just nodded, not probing any further and something inside me loosened in relief.

She turned to look back at the picture but I reached forward, surprising both her and myself when I grasped her chin, then slowly tugged her towards me. Her eyes widened in surprise, then glanced down at my lips, her tongue brushing the tips of her lips for a brief moment.

And then I kissed her.

Softly and gently.

I hadn’t wanted to kiss her. It was against the rules I'd set for myself. And yet, I didn’t stop myself from leaning forward, claiming her luscious lips. Lips that tasted like cherry and wine. Lips that marked mine, marked me, with her.

For once, I wanted to be soft. Gentle.

Show her that I could be sweet.

She stilled in astonishment, then leaned into the kiss. I stepped forward and into her, my hand wrapping through the back of her hair, tilting her head upwards.

A soft moan escaped her and her whole body pressed against mine.

God, she was glorious.

Her taste was so sweet, I wanted to suck it into my mouth, to suck it into me.

She was innocence and light.

It dove into my darkness, probing and spreading.

It stirred something inside me, something I hadn’t felt for so long.

Something that should’ve been dead inside my black heart but somehow, it sprung out like a sapling, fresh and sweet.

Hope.

The hope that I could laugh again, feel light and brightness and happiness.

It was a terrible thought, but I clung to it for only a moment, holding her against me, my fingers gripping the back of her hair like I would drown if I let her go.

We kissed for a long while, her silky tongue stroking against mine, not rushing things but just enjoying the moment, the feel of her in my arms.

It was only when I heard the soft clearing of a throat did I come back to my senses. I pulled away, feeling Victoria’s presence behind me. I saw Rose glance her way, the soft blush of her cheeks as she realized how much of a private audience we had.

For once in my life, I didn’t care, but I knew that she did, so I reached down, pulling her hand towards the exit. “Come on, Princess. It’s almost time for the carriage to turn back into a pumpkin.”

The car ride home was quiet, but without the earlier tension. As soon as we were settled into the seats, I curled my hand around her waist, pulling her in to me. She leaned her head into the crook of my arm, closing her eyes and relaxing into me. I traced my fingers over her bare skin, enjoying the feel of her on my fingers, drowning in my need for her.