Candice And The Cocky King
Chapter 2
Drip drop, drip drop.
A persistent sound echoed in her ears.
She hissed and turned over in her sleep.
Who or what was making that sound?
She turned on her side, reaching for her pillow, a strong unmovable object obscured her way.
Her eyelids fluttered open for a minute, then she bolted up straight.
She was alarmed by what she saw.
Who was this half-naked man in her bed?
She looked at the mountain of a man, how did he get here?
Wait!
This wasn’t her apartment.
She looked around her strange surroundings, nothing here looked like they were hers.
Where was she and how did she get here?
“You’re finally awake,” a deep rich voice rumbled.
Her eyes swung to him and he looked familiar…..
"I was waiting for you to wake up," he said, propping himself up on one elbow.
She gasped as it clicked, he was the investor!
“What are you doing here?” she asked, raising the sheets to her chin.
He looked like he was barely managing to suppress a chuckle “Feeling shy? You could barely keep your hands off me last night.”
She frowned, "What do you mean?" then just like de ja vu, the entire memories of the night before came crashing down on her.
Oh, my goodness.
Hot embarrassment flooded her veins, and her face paled in disbelief. “Don't tell me we…" she trailed off looking down at herself cladded in a silky red lingerie.
"Yes, we did," he replied promptly.
She balled her hands into fists as she cursed inwardly.
Damn you alcohol, this was not how the night was supposed to end!
She quickly sprang up from the bed, anger replacing her grief. "I never wanted this. How could you do this to me?" She thundered in anger.
He sat up abruptly, all smiles gone. “You wanted this; you were literally throwing yourself at me all night.”
His words were a blow to her ego. It was true she tried to seduce him, but she was only trying to flirt with him, not sleep with him.
Well, she didn't have time for this.
Her goal had failed and she needed to leave, immediately.
Turning around, she searched for her handbag “Where is my handbag?”
He didn't respond.
“Where is my handbag?” she queried, growing impatient.
“What does that have to do with me?” he sneered.
“It has everything to do with you. I don’t know what transpired between us last night after I drank that beer, but I came to that bar for business, very important stuff.”
“I agree, and you did get the ‘business’ you wanted,” he replied stiffly.
She let out a frustrated sigh as she began gathering her clothes that was strewn around the room.
Why bother explaining herself to this man when she could just leave?
“What do you think you are doing?” he asked, coldly.
"What does it look like? I am leaving. I have a job to report to. Obviously, yesterday night didn't go as planned-"
“I will not let you return to that bar,” he cut me off.
“Why do you think I'll go back there-”
“I decided to play your little game last night and let it slide because it was me, but I will not tolerate you whoring yourself to men at bars. I forbid you from such a job.” He commanded her, strongly.
Her brows creased with a frown, “Who told you I was whoring or whatever it is you just said about me now?”
She was really trying her best to stay calm. But, this man from last night had looked down on her from the first moment she met him, and now he was mocking her because he'd slept with her.
Yes, she desperately wanted his patronage, but it was costing her more than she'd been willing to give. Most animals when cornered lashed out in self-defense.
She was no different.
How in the world did she end up in bed with him?
It must have been the alcohol.
How could one glass of beer knock her out?
Did he spike it with drugs? What was this man up to?
Bernice had a lot of explaining to do. He looked normal on the outside, but he could very well be a psychopath.
Then slowly, very slowly like a lion rousing from its sleep, he began to rise from the bed. Muscles rippled, tendons strained, and bones stretched as a magnificent sight unfolded before her.
She couldn't help but stare, the sight was enthralling.
He was taller than most men she knew or usually came across. Chiseled abs flexed on a firm abdomen, chestnut-colored nipples dotted a broad expanse of muscled chest.
Her eyes dipped lower, down between his legs, a black mass of curly hair covered…
“Like what you see?” his deep voice drawled.
She quickly averted her eyes as her face flushed with embarrassment.
She was not just ogling his naked body, was she?
He was so stunningly gorgeous but with a shitty attitude.
“Is that how you look at your numerous bedmates with lust at dawn, after a long night of passion?” he asked in a mocking tone.
As water doused a flame, she felt her brief moment of admiration for this man melt away.
His annoying way of talking helped her remember to stay on topic.
She folded her arms against her chest and glared at him. “Tell me where my handbag is so I can leave,” she demanded.
"Even if you had your handbag, you can't leave,” he told her.
She was tired and all she wanted to do was go home, take a shower, get an aspirin for the throbbing ache in her head, before she set off to work.
But she couldn't do all this without her handbag.
“I remember having it with me at the bar last night, how come it’s nowhere around here?” she grumbled as she knelt to peer under the bed.
Her handsome but strange male companion had finally had the courtesy to don a robe. He remained quiet, leaning at the far end of the wall, watching her scramble around the room looking for her belongings.
At least, he'd stopped taunting her.
“Why won’t you just tell me where my bag is? Everything important to me is in that bag. My cell phone, my house keys, my wallet, and the documents for the development project.”
“Of what importance is this bag to me? That you think I would keep it away from you?” he queried.
She put a hand to her throbbing temple and murmured. “I can’t take this anymore,” she rose to her feet from the bedside and walked up to him.
“Stop, just stop it!” she yelled at him.
He raised an eyebrow “Stop what?”
“Stop pretending that this is some sort of joke to you. Those documents are worth a lot in value and you can only get it approved if you go through our agency. Stealing them from me won't get you the bid proposal.”
He frowned in confusion.
“And yes, I was going to play along and get you to seal the deal because my agency makes 10% off in commission,” she said.
“So, you mean to tell me that you were at the bar for business last night?” he asked in a disbelieving tone.
“What else would I be doing in such a sorry excuse for a bar? You chose that bar for the meet-up, remember?” she responded.
A smirk turned up the corner of his lips, “Now isn’t this interesting. So, from what you’re saying, I set up a date with you last night and invited you over to that bar?”
She raised her chin and nodded.
He let out a bitter laugh. “Perhaps, if you told yourself such fabled tales you could sleep well at night.”
"Oh, for Christ's sake. I am not a whore!" She yelled, "and stop talking funny.”
“I talk funny?”
“Yes, you do. You switch from modern speech to some 18th-century medieval speech." She was growing really frustrated with this man.
"In all my years I have come to understand that I have to keep up with the ever-changing world," he said, casually.
She looked at him oddly, "There you go again talking like some ancient being. You can't be much older than 35 years."
“You think?” he asked, amused.
She rolled my eyes. "Can I borrow your cell phone? I need to make a call.”
"I don't have one here," he told me.
“Why? Everyone has a cell phone,” she insisted.
“Well, I do not have one here. Even if I did, it would not work on this plane,” he simply said.
Who didn't own a cell phone in this time and age? He looked like he could afford one.
Was he just messing with me? Or was he really just a psychopath?
"I'm leaving," she announced, and crossed the vast room to the door, she had long worn her clothes, so she reached for the doorknob.
“You can’t leave,” his voice called behind her.
“You won’t tell me what I can or can’t do Mr Wayne. Goodbye, and I hope we never meet again," she threw the words over her shoulder, then cracked the door open and stepped into a corridor.
Her mouth fell open in awe at the sight that greeted her.
There was a long corridor made of glass walls with long white curtains knotted side by side, leading down a flight of stairs, that went into a major living area with vaulted ceilings.
But those were not what left her reeling on her feet.
The sight outside the windows…was stunning.
It was a clear blue sky, having some gray clouds encircling the sun, the house seemed to be on a cliff of sorts because just below, she could see the ocean, a crystal blue water that shimmered as the sun's rays hit the waves.
Beautiful flowers of every color adorned the surroundings with butterflies and birds flying around.
Where was she?
Then she began to notice her interior surroundings.
This house was big and luxurious, something that might pop up in a billionaire magazine.
The high walls were made of river rocks, from top to ceiling. The glass looked like clear crystals of the finest quality; it brought the outside environment into the house with its view. The floors looked to be made from granite and the linens looked soft and expensive.
Was this some sort of vacation home?
Bernice had said that Wayne Wyatt wanted to be kept under the radar about the bid, other than that, there was not much information about him.
Turning around, she walked back into the room.
“Where are we?" She asked, alarm ringing in her head. "Please, tell me we are still in Nashville, Tennessee?”
At that moment, he pushed himself off the wall where he'd been leaning, and straightened to his full height.
“Let me properly introduce myself. I am Wayne Wyatt, son of Warren Wyath. King and Alpha of the Royal House of Wyatt. Leader of the pack of the Grey wolves. The protector of the plane Woede and all its hinterlands. Welcome to your new home, my human mate."
Her jaw dropped.
Her breath ceased.
Her eyes burgled, and she felt a paralyzing fear creep up her spine.
What in God’s name did she just hear?
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