King's Treasure (Oil Kings Book 3) Read online

  King's Treasure

  Oil Kings Book 3

  Marie Johnston

  LE Publishing

  Copyright © 2021 by Marie Johnston

  Editing by Razor Sharp Editing

  Proofing by MBE and King Breezy Edits

  Cover Art by Secret Identity Graphics

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The characters, places, and events in this story are fictional. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are coincidental and unintentional.

  Created with Vellum

  Broke, jobless, and stranded in Las Vegas on Valentine’s Day, I am forced to call my parents for a bailout. Again. A pampered princess and wannabe environmentalist, I know I’m a cliché and would do anything to change it. So when I meet Xander, a struggling photojournalist with absolutely nothing in common with my domineering, millionaire parents, I know just where to go next:

  A wedding chapel.

  But when I wake up the next day, my matrimonial rebellion comes with an unpleasant surprise. My husband is no penniless globetrotter—Xander King is the son of a billionaire oil tycoon, and my parents couldn’t approve of the match more. Now the only thing that could shock them would be a quickie divorce…except my new husband has a proposition for me.

  I take one look at Savvy and know I could spend the rest of my life with her. The feeling is mutual…until she figures out who I am. I didn’t mean to hide my identity, and I thought a desire to get out from under the weight of familial baggage was something we had in common. But with Savvy just moments from proposing divorce, I offer her the one thing I’d been ready to walk away from:

  A hundred million dollars.

  All Savvy has to do is stay married to me for a year and then she’ll get half of my trust fund—except I have no intention of letting her go after 365 days. I’ve spent a decade running from my father’s disapproval and my brothers’ successes. Now I’m willing to spend a lifetime convincing the woman I love to stay put by my side.

  ____

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Marie Johnston

  Chapter 1

  Savvy

  Energy-sucking neon lights lit the night sky around me. Our destination was ahead. The Venetian towered in front of us in all its refined glory. Walls of glass windows. A fake canal. Oodles of water that were both decoration and recreation, making tourists forget they were in the middle of the desert.

  My environmentalist brain wanted to calculate the sheer waste displayed along the Strip, but I stopped before I could summon actual numbers. My career goal was to bridge the divide between extreme change and please, just do anything to help the earth.

  Others in my line of work were quickly dismissed by big companies like those that filled this desert oasis. They wanted consultants with reputations as large as theirs who charged more than anyone in my entry-level position would make in a lifetime. But my last name, Abbot, could at least make some corporations stop and listen. Between my father’s security consulting agency and the obnoxious wealth of my mother’s side of the family, I was a foot in the door.

  Which explained the last-minute work trip to Las Vegas with my coworker and best friend, Brady. I’d wedge us in and keep the door open long enough for him to charm the execs with our nonprofit’s spiel: Saving Sunsets is the bridge between the bottom line and the world outside. With our expertise, we can save the environment and save you money.

  Simple. Generic. But it was meant to get us a place at the conference table. Our knowledge and revolutionary ideas were supposed to take it from there. But since I’d started working for them shortly after they opened their doors, we hadn’t had much opportunity to consult. Brady and I were in our mid-twenties and a lot of CEOs doubted we had experience in anything but beer pong. Most days, my job resembled an annoying telemarketer’s. Hello, we haven’t had a chance to talk to you about your car warranty.

  One more block. Tourists meandered past us, mostly couples in some form of foreplay. Hearts in their eyes, hands down each other’s pants. I didn’t expect to find anything different in Vegas on Valentine’s Day, but their footwear looked more comfortable than mine. I hadn’t packed my humanely manufactured heels and instead grabbed a cheap pair that imitated something Mother would wear, along with one of her silk blouses. The shirt was comfortable, but my toes were pinched and throbbing. Too bad we didn’t have the same shoe size. What I wouldn’t give to wear my Toms.

  Can you maybe. . . not?

  Bernard’s hesitant hand-wringing when he approached me about what I wore to these meetings ran through my mind. My boss was all about environmentalism, unless he thought it’d cost our fledgling and perpetually struggling nonprofit potential business. I wore my eco-friendly slip-ons, fair-labor cotton shirts, and secondhand skirts around the office; a hole-in-the-wall space in a strip mall on the outskirts of Washington, DC. But, away from the office when I met clients, I was the girl I was raised to be. I wore designer labels I hoped no one noticed were several seasons out of style.

  My family was in the one percent, but I was expected to make my own way, aside from the room and board they were helping me with. And I needed their help. They’d made that perfectly clear.

  When Bernard hired me, he nearly fainted when he’d learned I didn’t come with my family’s wallet.

  I guess we’ll have to do some fundraising. . . or something.

  Brady was in charge of the ‘or something.’ I was the affluent face of the company and Bernard was supposed to be the brains, but with each passing month, I wondered how our doors stayed open. The guy couldn’t sort his own recycling.

  This trip was a prime example. Instead of doing a virtual meeting with the owner and CEO of King Oil, Bernard had flown me and Brady in coach to Las Vegas. Gentry King didn’t live or work in Las Vegas. The oil tycoon was from Montana. He’d raised his four boys there and he still worked there with his new wife, who also happened to be his assistant.

  I knew all this because I’d researched his company. I’d uncovered everything I could about King Oil and the portfolio of environmental issues they championed, encouraging their investors to dive deep into their pockets.

  Bernard wanted Saving Sunsets to be part of that portfolio. Badly. As soon as he’d found out Mr. King was in Las Vegas, he’d begged for an interview and booked our room and tickets. To be fair to Bernard, if we could land an account like King Oil and earn some credibility, the nonprofit would live to see another sunrise. But my carbon footprint for the year was growing at an alarming rate, thanks to the cross-country trip.

  “These shoes are killing me.”

  “You should’ve just worn your vegan shoes.” Brady strolled next to me with hi
s tie loose and his suit jacket hanging open. Like me, he came from money, but unlike me, his parents had cut him off as soon as he’d veered off the politics path. In contrast, my parents had opened their doors when I’d come limping back home after four years of college, during which I had struggled to do my own laundry and feed myself. Brady, however, had found some roommates and supported himself.

  The guy joked around like he didn’t take this job seriously, but he did. It was a stepping stone for both of us. Bigger and better things were ahead. The only problem was that neither of us knew where to step next, and sticking with Saving Sunsets was starting to feel like clinging to the side of a capsizing ship.

  Brady glanced down at my feet. “Something tells me a guy born and raised in Montana isn’t going to know Jimmy Choos from Famous Footwear.”

  “Tell Bernard that,” I muttered, wishing I’d stayed true to myself, or that these were really Jimmy Choos. “We should get there early and have time to practice our pitch.”

  Mr. King was here for pleasure, but since it was easier for people to get to Vegas, he stayed longer to do business. As much as I wanted to dislike someone who spearheaded an oil company that fracked and drilled all over the earth, Mr. King seemed to keep the environment in mind. King Oil funded two wind energy projects and at least one solar energy farm. Turning his trip to Vegas into business was something Saving Sunsets would recommend: streamline travel and save all parties involved more time and money. It was more than I’d expected out of someone in his position, but exactly what I’d hoped to find.

  Bernard was beside himself with excitement. Which wasn’t unusual. My boss was kind of flighty. I didn’t know how he got away with being the CEO, but I guess since the board was made up of his brother-in-law and his childhood dentist, he got to make decisions that would otherwise be questionable. Like the pricey electric car with Saving Sunsets’ logo painted on the sides. It’s a write-off.

  I could think of several better ways to use that money, including a raise. It was kind of my job.

  Despite Bernard’s questionable example, we tried to keep the environment in mind. Walking between hotels was a better idea than an Uber.

  I’d kill for an Uber right now.

  My phone buzzed. Since we were early, I stopped and pulled it out of my Saving Sunsets canvas tote. “Hold on. It’s Bernard.” I slid to the edge of the sidewalk to answer. A tongue-tangling couple with shirts that read Just Married almost ran into Brady, but he sidestepped them to stand by me. “Hey.”

  “Sapphire.” Bernard’s harried voice filtered through the line. He was usually worked up about something, but this had me shooting a concerned look at Brady.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “No. Ohmigosh. No. I had no idea. I mean, he married my sister, you’d think he’d be more compassionate. I’m so sorry.”

  “For what?” Like most conversations with Bernard, I wanted to scream, Get to the point!

  “The board just met and shut us down.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Shut. Us. Down.”

  I struggled to follow what Bernard said on a good day, but this was startlingly clear. “But. . . but. . .how?”

  “Money, Sapphire Jewel. The meeting with King Oil was my Hail Mary, but the board won’t give me another chance.”

  “The president is your brother-in-law.” I put it on speaker for Brady to hear. Our heads tipped close to hear our doom.

  “He said, and I quote, ‘Too many damn chances for a flake like you.’ I should’ve never trusted him. My sister never had good taste. I’m sorry. The meeting is canceled.”

  I exchanged a look with Brady. We’d studied our asses off for this meeting. We’d figured out a way to pitch Saving Sunsets and how we could help King Oil provide education to its investors. We had ideas that could cut twenty years off King Oil’s pledge to be carbon neutral by 2050. All for nothing?

  “So we’re going home? Can you send the flight information?” Brady asked. He hated being in suits and bitched about big cities like Vegas. Yet he and I both still lived in DC. Saving money from Saving Sunsets’ paychecks was difficult at best, but job hunting for two rich kids with no experience in the environmental field had been harder than each of us had anticipated. We’d chosen to build our resumes, but it didn’t look like Saving Sunsets was going to help with that.

  “Brady,” Bernard keened. “They cut off the money. I can’t get you tickets.”

  My eyes flared and I stared at my friend. “The hotel?” Bernard had gotten a suite with two rooms—an expensive one, as an apology for the last-minute late nights we’d spent cramming before flying out.

  “Sapphire Jewel, I’m so sorry, my hands are tied.” His breath hitched dramatically and I could picture his hands flailing.

  “Bernard, money doesn’t just run out,” Brady said evenly. “How long has the company been in trouble?”

  All Bernard’s last-minute meetings and travel, his new car, and the eco-friendly suit he’d boasted was locally crafted and hand-tailored flashed through my mind. Why hadn’t I seen it before?

  “Wha— I can’t—” Fake static came through the line.

  Brady leaned closer. “What about our last paychecks—”

  “Bad connect—” The line went dead.

  I blinked at the phone.

  “I can’t believe he did that.” Brady spun around, hands on his hips. “Slimy bastard. How am I going to make rent this month?”

  “I’ll never be able to move out of my parents’ house.” I shouldn’t be worried about that when I was stranded in Las-freaking-Vegas. “How are we going to get home?”

  He shoved a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t have any cash and my card is at the limit.” He blew out a breath and leveled his knowing gaze on me.

  “No.” I scowled, shaking my head. “No. He already thinks I’m helpless and he’ll do nothing but say I told you so.”

  “Savvy. It’s our only option. You know my parents won’t help.”

  “Brady.” We were at an impasse. It was either call my father or walk home. We couldn’t afford a bus ticket across town, much less across the country. I’d gladly pay for the bus fare if I could. It’d cost less than whatever life lesson my father would teach me. “Fine.”

  I could call Mother, but she had less compassion when I was in a tough spot than my father. She wouldn’t have let me move home if Father hadn’t talked her into giving me a chance to job hunt and save money. You don’t want the girl to end up like that poor friend of hers, living in a fetid box with others who have God knows what morals.

  Brady’s roommates were nice enough and his apartment wasn’t fetid. It had. . . a smell, but with five guys and three bedrooms, it could be worse. It wasn’t the other guys, or the tiny space they resided in, it was that they lived one unexpected bill away from being homeless.

  I didn’t want to be in that position again. I’d had my own little rebellions over the years and they’d all failed miserably. I’d made it through college with massive debt, using my last name to accrue too many loans, and it was nothing less than anyone expected. I was impulsive, a pampered little Sapphire.

  “Sapphire,” Chief answered, his gruff tone not the comfort I wanted in the moment.

  “Hey, Chief.” My oldest sister, Emerald, had coined the term and I think he liked it. Instead of Dad, he was Chief. “I, um. . .”

  “Confidence, Sapphire. If you don’t speak with it, everyone will know you don’t have it.” Said as if I didn’t have any.

  He was right, but only because I had been raised by a family who questioned every decision I made. I hated proving them right. I sucked in a breath and let the story pour out, every humiliating detail. The lack of transportation funds, the hotel room, and that Brady was stuck with me.

  My family didn’t hate Brady. Once it’d become clear he and I didn’t have the chemistry needed to date, they tolerated him, and they helped us if we needed it. Like when Bernard had been two weeks late with our paychec
ks and Brady was going to get kicked out. I’d asked Chief for a cash advance—for both of us. And I’d paid it back—with interest.

  It’s an important life lesson, Sapphire. Money isn’t free. You have to contribute. That usually meant a weekend or two helping Chief out in his office, on top of my regular job.

  “Savvy,” he said, exasperation gusting my name out. “What if you couldn’t call me? What would you do?” He didn’t wait for my answer. I didn’t have one and I was fighting anxiety. Was this when I’d get cut off again? Left stranded? “It just so happens that I’m heading to Vegas.”

  “You are?” I looked up at Brady and he cocked his head.

  “King Oil was able to rearrange their schedule for a last-minute meeting.” Chief chuckled, and it was full of all the derision I’d known was coming. “Now, I know why.”

  I closed my eyes. Would the humiliation ever end? Bernard’s epic fuckup was Chief’s gain. He’d never let me forget this.

  “He’s agreed to meet me for lunch tomorrow. I’ve been trying to get his account for years. I’d like you to be there.”

  My eyes flew open. “Why?”

  Mr. King had no idea who I was, and Chief wouldn’t want to explain that I was the account that had dropped out last minute because the owner was too flighty to run a business.

  “You need a job, don’t you? You still have school loans, or do you have a plan to pay those off? You can start tomorrow.”

  I hated working in his security consulting company. The place sucked the life out of me. Chief was old school and had refused my insights on ways to go paperless. Instead, I had been given a yellow legal pad and a box of Bics. Then, he’d scowled at me when I’d dropped the box of pens in the middle of a meeting with a new client. Everyone had stared over their laptop screens at me while I’d picked up every pen and put them back in the box. “Chief—”