Page 81 of The Heir
“She killed him.”
My eyes narrow as his gaze thoroughly rakes over my face making me tense at what he might be thinking. I might be a wild card, but I’m not a murderer.
I slow clap.“Good for fucking her.He probably told her she couldn’t have her phone,or work.”Giving him a nasty look, I push my plate away and stand up. “I’m going to bed.”
As I walk away debating on whether or not I should step on his phone on my way out, he calls my name. “Isobel, you know I don't like you turning your back on me."
"Well, we can't always get what we want, can we?" I keep facing to the front.
King sighs a long exhale behind me before speaking once more. "Goodnight, Isobel, sleep well.”
I scoff, turning to finally face him and give him a little curtsey."Yes, your majesty."
Turning, I continue my journey out the dining room. I curl up with Sweetie on my bed where I proceed to get the worst sleep of my life with my bedroom door between us, because I didn’t invite him in, and he didn’t push to be let in. And to say that fucks with my head is an understatement.
What fucks with my head even more is that for the next two weeks he doesn't touch me, or try to join me in my bedroom. Why I want him to is beyond my comprehension, to be honest. He's left me in this house with nothing to do except go over food menus for the house, pick what we're having for dinner, watch TV, and sketch whilehegets to work.
I've attempted to run on exactly six occasions, and am prevented from making it out the door each time by Xavier or Gustavo, depending on which one of them is with me. My attempts are feeble. The memory of King going crazier than me sobers me considerably; however, I've torn up both our bedrooms in a fit of desperation, and I've spent five dinners refusing to eat.
And every time I've refused dinner, he sits with me until I eat. Even if it takes until one in the morning. He also sits with me the next morning and forces me to eat breakfast, like a child. He ignores any request for my phone, or for me to leave the house.
When I asked if Fabian has enquired after me, he reminded me that my next meeting with the Italian chef isn't for another two weeks, same as when I meet with him. But two weeks hanging in limbo without much reassurance from King doesn't give a girl hope. Two weeks being in the presence of this charismatic, sexy, smoldering man with nothing but looks, spoken words, and respectful distance. It's utterlydrainingme.
I go to bed every night with my skin on fire, wanting him to join me, fuck me.Something.But he won't even kiss me. Won't make the first move.
And now that I've got a taste of what good sex is, of how his hands feel on me, and how his body feels against mine, I want more.Crave it.But goddamn him for doing this to me. How can I want to let my captor touch me? I can barely wrap my brain around the fact that I'm in this situation.
I keep thinking that one day he's going to come and say-"Ha, I was joking."- and tell me that this was all some sort of kinky game. But when I look down at the wedding ring on my finger that's obviously real and cost a fortune, I know better than to entertain those thoughts. No, this isn't a game at all and I shouldn't be deluding myself into thinking it is.
What's really killing me is that I wait all day for him to come home like a meek, desperate fifties housewife.
What fucks with my head even more? Is that if he let me loose this instant, and told me he wanted to date me, I'd go out with him despite everything that's just transpired between us. I spend my days with the wheels of my mind turning, driving me insane.
I need to stand up for myself, but how?
Chapter eighteen
Breakfast Shenanigans
Aweek later King informs me that we're going on an outing to meet his parents. I'm elated to be released, and nervous at the same time because meeting a significant other's family is a big deal, but to meet yourspouses'family?
I don't know how to feel about this.
Exiting the house I nervously tug on my dress, stalling on the concrete steps outside of the front door. King stands besides me patiently until I'm done fidgeting, and then takes my elbow. His fingers against my skin feels so good, like a breath of fresh air after being underwater for too long. But I stiffen and jerk away, looking at him with a scowl.
"You look gorgeous today," he says, looking at me warily, but I'm not having it.
I put my sunglasses on. Irritable. "Let's get this over with," I snap.
Approaching the black car I nod my thanks at Dennis and then slide inside smoothly, pressing myself all the way until my hip is againstthe door on the opposite side. King's rich, spicy cologne fills the space as he slides in beside me. It is truly a struggle to maintain my sanity because he smells so delicious it's making my mouth water. Snapping my seatbelt, I pull my hair over one shoulder and then turn my head to look out the window.
As Dennis gets into the driver's seat, I feel King's warm fingers smooth over my wrist and enclose my hand. Just as I'm about to jerk away he tightens his fingers on me.
"Please do me the honor of allowing me to hold my wife's hand while we ride to meet my family?" King asks softly in his silky smooth voice. He sounds wary, a bit tired.
"You mean the hands you don't want me to fuck with? It's okay for me to touch them now, when you want it?" I say sarcastically, clicking my tongue.
"Isobel, please. Can you just be nice forone morningfor me?"
