King's Ransom (Oil Kings Book 2) Read online

  Eva chuckled. “Nailed it, didn’t I? Bachelor condo or brick mansion?”

  Her question was teasing, but her tone accepting. I answered, “Brick mansion.”

  “Good choice.” Those bright eyes of hers sparked with mirth. “And the cabin? Aspen or Snowmass?

  I inhaled a slow breath, hating that she’d pegged me so easily. “Aspen.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Can’t believe what? I work day and night. My life is my career. I earn every penny.” She was about to open her mouth, but I held up a hand. “And before you point it out, yes, my family is an advantage. But my father worked every minute of every day to grow the company and we paid for it as a family. I’m personally tired of apologizing to people because their parents didn’t provide them with silver spoons.”

  “Maybe their parents died before they could afford more than thrift-store silverware.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. Damn, I’d forgotten that she’d lost her parents to a car accident.

  She shook her head and grabbed the tablet I’d given her as her mobile office. “Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with admitting that money makes parts of life easier. Whatever my boss orders me to do, be it cleaning up a frat boy’s vomit or piss all over the walls, I have to dance for my money. But at least I’m in a position to decide whether it’s with my clothes on or off. If I had a few million, I might still have problems, but there are a ton I wouldn’t have.”

  “Eva—”

  “No, Beckett. I get it. It’s the way it is. Someone who can plumb an entire house still worries about paying the mortgage on their own. Construction crews risk life and limb to fix a few potholes. A cashier can get mugged any day of the week but barely brings home minimum wage. They won’t ever get paid as much as the idea guys, the ones who make deals for breakfast and reap the benefits by lunch. Sports stars and actors have paydays in the millions simply because they can entertain us. I get paid in tips of ‘Maybe if you smiled more’ or my favorite, ‘Another refill wouldn’t have killed you.’ I’m sure my landlord will take a fourth refill on his Diet Coke and a grin for rent next month.” She clamped her lips shut, a look of alarm passing over her face.

  Her tirade didn’t upset me. People had actually said that to her? I wanted to hunt each one down and shake their pockets out until she got what she deserved. But was I any better? I was paying her well, but the money came with expectations. “I’m sorry.”

  She gave me an appreciative smile. “Don’t make me clean your vomit and we’ll be cool.”

  “I’m from Montana, I can hold my drink,” I drawled. “And I don’t piss on walls. Wilma would’ve walked before she put up with that.”

  “Wilma?”

  “My previous assistant, the reason I have an opening that’s become a revolving door.” I pointed to an earth-toned blanket folded neatly over the back of one of the chairs. “She knitted that. There’s one on board for each of my brothers, and the crew sets out the correct one, depending on who flies. That one’s mine.”

  “What’d you do to make Wilma leave?” The curve of her mouth told me she was kidding, but her question soured my mood all the same.

  “Her husband got a job in Florida and she claimed her old bones were done with winter. She’s only fifty-two and a Disney addict, so I didn’t believe her for a minute.”

  Eva giggled, a sound that could quickly become my obsession. Her overall look could be considered…sharp, but with a soft edge if you earned it. She presented a resting bitch face to the casual observer, but I saw deeper. She was always evaluating everything around her, perhaps from jobs that required her to constantly wait on people’s needs.

  But when she smiled and laughed, all that melted away. Her eyes danced and she threw her head back. She had the most elegant neck, one I could kiss all the way down to— And that edgy hairstyle. She’d looked like a pissed-off Tinker Bell yesterday, but today, she was rocker chic in a fucking fluffy pink sweater.

  Was that sweater as soft as it looked? And how could those boots both conceal and reveal the curviest legs I’d ever seen?

  The discomfort of an impending erection had me shifting in my seat. I grabbed my phone. We had work to do on our short trip, and unfortunately, it was going to make me more uncomfortable. “Bring up the Couples SOS app.”

  She did. “Does Dr. Herrera have a better name? It limits the impression that it’s only for when a relationship hits the rocks.”

  “I agree. That’s one of her sticking points, from what I’ve heard.”

  Eva clicked through the app. I tried not to think of her reading the headings. Frequency. Roughness level. Favorite stimulation. A hint of pink brushed her cheeks.

  Wait until I told her that for the sake of research, we were now a couple in need of an SOS. “Both devices are logged into my account. We need to play around and get a good understanding of the range of the app.”

  Her gaze was steady, but the blush deepened. “Some of these are already filled in?”

  Shit. I hadn’t deleted all my information from when I’d tested the program earlier. “I played around to learn about it.”

  A dark brow arched. “Frequency: three times a week. I’m disappointed.”

  “I travel a lot,” I said more defensively than I’d meant to.

  She tossed her back as she laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t realize these answers were for real.”

  “I used previous experiences as a starting point.” Since they’d all failed, it was a good example for what the app was for.

  “Okay, we’ll go with that. Roughness. Oh my God, look at her rating scale. It goes from a feather to a whip to…” She peered closer. “Holy shit, are those prison bars? What do those things have to do with each other?”

  “Dr. Herrera claims she accounts for everything, including abusive relationships, and not everyone’s honest with themselves about it. She’s going to separate them into different categories so bondage doesn’t get confused with assault.”

  “Whoa. Um… You went with a feather. Let’s see. Scream level. Yours or your partner’s? Oh, there’s two parts. How noisy you are—five out of ten, I see. And how loudly you can make your partner come.” She rolled her eyes toward me. “A nine out of ten?”

  “I didn’t want to be conceited.” And eleven hadn’t been an option.

  “Post-glow snuggles. You rated that a two out of ten.”

  Zero was an option, but that had seemed too…honest. “I have it so you can see my profile. You enter your scores and then the program runs the answers through their algorithm and comes up with recommendations.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip as she went through and entered scores for her profile. I couldn’t take my eyes off her plump lips, or the flicks of her pink tongue as she answered. I jerked when she grinned and looked up, catching me staring in the process.

  “Done.”

  “Hit the rose petal button that says ‘SOS’ and we’ll both get a readout, since our profiles are linked.”

  A list popped onto my screen. It was broken into two sections: witty, sometimes snarky observations of how our answers differed and a second section, an honest, clinical evaluation.

  Eva giggled again. I was going to buy this company just to hear her delight. “I put five times a week for frequency and the feedback is that one of us needs to learn how to count or drop the side candy. That’s scandalous. I wonder how she accounts for masturbation.”

  The flush hadn’t left Eva’s face and she wasn’t meeting my gaze, yet she was still open and honest with her comments. And how was I feeling so comfortable testing this program with her? “There’s a secondary heading in the premium plan that accounts for devices used.”

  Eva shifted and crossed her legs. Now they were dangling in front of me. If we were a real couple, I’d tell the crew not to bother us. Then I’d unbuckle and drop to my knees, crawl toward her. Those boots would stay on, but those leggings would get rolled down.

  But we weren
’t a real couple. We hadn’t even decided if we were pretending.

  “Dr. Herrera thought of a lot of stuff.” She flicked her gaze up, then back down to the tablet. “I can see the appeal. Since our answers differed in the roughness, frequency, and after-glow snuggles, she recommends…”

  The same report was on my device, but I wanted to hear it in her words. “What? What’s it say?” My voice was thick, gruff.

  “That, um, after we do it again, regardless of orgasm, we each tell the other one thing we liked about the experience.”

  “Just one?”

  “It might’ve been more if I’d rated my partner’s ability to make me scream higher.”

  “It’s an eleven. I downgraded to a nine.”

  She flipped the tablet around and showed me the fake rating she’d given me.

  “Three? Low blow, Chase.” I sat forward. “I can get my partner to hit nine without taking any clothes off.”

  Her lips parted, but she quickly covered her reaction with a skeptical look. “News flash, King. All guys think that.” She flipped the tablet around. “Surprisingly, the generated advice at the end is considerate and encouraging.”

  Her blush was permanent. I settled back, hoping she’d give up soon and put the tablet down. If the word “masturbation” came out of her mouth one more time, I’d be begging her to join me in a real live trial of the app that had nothing to do with our fake arrangement.

  Chapter 7

  Eva

  I gripped the armrests as the plane bumped down. My first plane ride. What an eye-opening experience.

  Beckett was either really cocky, or he wasn’t joking about getting a woman to scream. I’d only known him for a little over twenty-four hours and yes, he was cocky. Justifiably so. When I extrapolated to the bedroom, I meant.

  I’d had good sex in the past. Really good sex. Not the kind I couldn’t walk away from when the guy turned out to be a douche though. Yet I had a feeling New York heiress Cara thought about Beckett when she fucked that pop star she was currently dating.

  I had a feeling I’d think about Beckett the next time I fucked someone else too.

  The attendant came around with a big smile. “How was it?”

  “So smooth. Are commercial flights like this?”

  She laughed. “They can be, but you’re elbow to elbow with complete strangers.”

  Like a limo compared to a bus. Got it. I had ridden in a limo before. During a time in my life that I didn’t care to think about, for a reason that continued to keep me up at night.

  Beckett ushered me out. His hand hovered over the small of my back, but he didn’t actually touch me. I appreciated his restraint. He hadn’t talked about the marriage proposal, and while I had plans for him that weren’t good, I needed space and time to wrap my head around the possibilities.

  A private car was waiting for us. Beckett studied his phone. Probably more of that damn app, which I couldn’t take. My traitorous body had calmed down, but I was sitting close enough to be warmed by his body heat. I couldn’t go into my first meeting with my new boss, turned on beyond all discomfort.

  The driver stopped in front of a trendy office building that was all windows, with a large landscaped pond in the front. Beckett led me along the paved walkway around the water. Koi darted around in the depths and I was tempted to tell Beckett to go on ahead. I’d sit by this oasis and pretend I was in the wilderness.

  But I followed him to the door he held open for me and inside to the sprawling waiting room. A few other couples were scattered throughout the area. One young couple had their heads bent together, their bodies angled toward each other. So why were they here? A middle-aged couple had one empty seat between them as they each thumbed through their phones—the reason for their presence was a little more obvious. And there was another couple closer to my age that I wasn’t certain were actually a pair, but from the way she glared at his back from across the room, it was a good guess.

  Beckett checked in with the receptionist. “King. We have an appointment at three.”

  The receptionist hit me with a reassuring smile. “You two can have a seat. She’ll call you in a moment.”

  While he was at the desk, I chose a seat, thinking he’d put one chair between us like the middle-aged couple. He planted himself right next to me. His proximity overwhelmed my senses. The fresh aftershave or cologne he wore was intoxicating. Or maybe it was a special millionaire musk the dry cleaners spritzed his expensive business suits with.

  He leaned in and it was all I could do not to turn my face toward him. We looked like we were about to make out in public, like the young couple.

  “The rest of the staff doesn’t know about Dr. Herrera’s side business.”

  Interpretation: We’d have to pretend to be a couple in therapy while we were in the waiting room. I shot him a flat look. “Okay, dear.”

  A faint smile touched his pouty lips and he straightened in his chair, pulling his phone out. He dropped his voice even lower. “I have all calls going to voicemail. Tomorrow, I’ll quit forwarding your phone to my temporary assistant.”

  He had a temporary assistant? This was news to me. I hadn’t seen any more employees other than his driver.

  “She’s from an online staffing company,” he explained. “All she’s doing is taking calls that require scheduling and forwarding the rest to me.”

  I intentionally raised my voice above a whisper because this opportunity was too good to pass up. “Why didn’t I know about her?”

  The glaring woman swung her hostility toward Beckett.

  Beckett’s eyes flared before narrowing. “Well played,” he breathed. He spoke a little louder. “I’m sure I told you, you just weren’t listening.”

  I sucked in a gasp and repressed the grin that fought to break free.

  A door clicked open and a tall woman I guessed to be in her mid-forties stood in the opening. “Beck?”

  Her voice was as rich as her appearance. I had thought my boots were expensive, but hers were the softest shade of brown suede, and she’d skipped the leggings. If I had mile-long legs like hers, I would too. She wore a deep red cowl-necked sweater and black leather A-line skirt. Her gaze was pleasant enough, but keen, and when she glanced from Beckett to me, I wanted to hide behind him. This had to be Dr. Herrera. Could she read minds? One arched brow from her and I swore she knew all about Beckett’s crazy proposal and my need for revenge.

  I empathized with everyone in the room waiting to see her. Whoever worked with her wasn’t going to be able to hide from the real problems in their relationship.

  She navigated the maze of corridors with military precision until we arrived at an office with a plush couch, two additional sofa chairs, and a desk. Since we weren’t keeping up a ruse with her, I skipped the couch and chose one of the comfy chairs, pulling up the notes app on my iPad. Beckett chose the chair next to me. I couldn’t interpret the expression in his eyes. He was congenial, but cool. Like he was evaluating the therapist as much as she was studying him.

  Dr. Herrera rolled her desk chair across from us. “So nice of you to meet me today, Mr. King. My biggest question is, what can you do for me that I can’t do for myself?”

  Right then. She wasn’t going to waste time on trivialities. I wanted to be Dr. Herrera when I grew up. From her perspective, she held all the cards and wasn’t going to let Mr. King know any differently. Beckett had the finances, but I bet if I went out to the parking lot, I’d find an Audi registered under her name. She didn’t need the money. She wanted her app to get into consumers’ hands, and she could do it herself if she damn well pleased.

  “I can give you the most valuable resource of all,” Beckett countered. “Time.”

  My fingers flew over the tiny keyboard as Beckett outlined the capabilities of his marketing team, the financial push he could put behind a launch, and how he’d assigned a special crew to study the market they planned to target.

  Dr. Herrera considered his words, nodded every once in
a while, and finally said, “It’s not about the time. My son designed the app. And if I sell, he’ll be essentially out of a job.” She spread her hands. “So you see, this is a passion project for me, no pun intended, but more so with my son.”

  “He could stay on as lead programmer if he passes a background check.” Beckett spoke like it wasn’t a big deal, but I nearly choked. He had to vet the man who’d literally constructed this app from the ground up? And there was still a window to shove the kid out of if he didn’t measure up to Beckett’s standards?

  Dr. Herrera lifted a defined brow. “You’d run a background check on my son?”

  “I don’t allow anyone into the company with a questionable past.”

  Tense silence filled the room. I was afraid to look between them, but I chanced a glance. Dr. Herrera appeared deep in thought as she studied Beckett. Beckett had deeper pockets. It’d be an uphill battle for Dr. Herrera to release her app and deal with tech issues and continuous upgrades, even if her son was in charge. Selling out would be cashing in. Beckett’s team would do all the work, he’d take all the risk, and Dr. Herrera and her kid would reap the bennies.

  “Mr. King, let me tell you about my son. He grew up with a single working mom. It took a long time to build this business and it required what you accurately said was valuable. Time.” She paused, and pain and regret flashed through her golden eyes. “It wasn’t lost on me that my boy acted out because I worked too much, but what could I do? I had rent to pay, sports fees to cover while hopefully building character, yada, yada, yada. But he got into trouble, found drugs, and it wasn’t until a few years ago he accepted the help he needed so much. When I told him about my idea, he ran with it. This program helped him through recovery. He could’ve been found in a gutter, dead of an overdose. Instead he’s home, coming up with new ideas and new designs.”