Michaela I’m sitting at the kitchen table in Rhys’s guesthouse, folded over my laptop, my nose practically touching the screen, drooling all over the keyboard. “Holy Mother of Hotness have mercy on my heart and my lady parts,” I say, as I scroll down another page filled with photos of the gorgeous man I despise. My God, he wears a suit like it’s nobody’s business. I’m unwilling to admit how many times I’ve fanned my face––and between my legs––since starting my detective work. I didn’t have enough time this morning to do proper research on King König because I got sidetracked by the patriarch’s heart attack. No way am I walking into a second meeting with Phoenix without knowing what I’m up against. I’m not naïve. I’m fully aware I’m no match for a mogul tycoon, and given everything my father revealed, my hands are tied. Still, a background check makes sense. I click on the back button to return to the page of results. As I scroll down, a headline catches my eyes. ‘PHOENIX KÖNIG. BEST SHIRTLESS MOMENTS’ Interesting. I double-click. My head jerks back at the magnificence before me. The man commands respect and oozes undeniable masculinity and scorching hot sexuality in a white shirt and tailored black pants––no doubt bespoke––but shirtless... there are no words. How can you bestow such good looks to one man, God? What about the rest of the male gender? Geez. No wonder I wanted the man I hate to manhandle me two minutes after meeting him. It’s so unlike me. The number of gorgeous men who wear perfectly fitted suits is as common as potholes in New York City. Not to mention, a parade of wealthy men stays at our
hotel on any given day. And let’s not forget about my circle of friends and acquaintances. I’m no stranger to good-looking men. Which is why I struggle to explain this strong attraction for a man I should loathe. No, a man I do loathe. It’s like this weird kinky love-hate pull I can’t wrap my head around. Must be the California sun. The heat is frying my brain. My phone vibrates on the table next to me, forcing my eyes away from my laptop and the Adonis god. Speaking of the beautiful bastard... King Kong Tycoon. I couldn’t resist. I saved his name as his cheeky moniker. What can I say? The devil made me do it. My eyes grow to the size of saucers when I read his text. KING KONG TYCOON The car should be at your place in twenty minutes. I lost track of time. MICHAELA I’ll be ready. KING KONG TYCOON Looking forward to getting to know you better. I swallow. MICHAELA See you soon, Phoenix. KING KONG TYCOON See you soon, my little feline. I roll my eyes. I clench my phone against my heart and lift my eyes to the ceiling to where I’m sure my mother is enjoying a martini while chatting up God’s ear. I’m doing this for you, Mom. Conscious I have little time to waste, I jump to my feet and rush to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Then, I run to the bedroom to change. We were supposed to meet for dinner, but Phoenix is eager to get some answers, so he suggested a late lunch instead. I was tempted to be spiteful and tell him my afternoon was booked solid, but I decided against it. Putting this meeting off is only delaying the inevitable. My life as I know it is a thing of the past. Done with. Bye, bye, bye. Finito. No más. Sayonara. Au revoir. Hasta la vista, baby. I heard everything my father had to say,
although it’s not computing fully yet, I acc ept my new reality—I’m his only lifeline. Sigh. Deciding on something to wear when time is ticking would’ve taken me far longer back home given the size of my wardrobe, but here, I only have a few items of clothing to choose from. In no time, I’m dressed and move my attention to my makeup and hair. I have a love-hate relationship with my short pixie cut. It’s in the growing stages. Most times I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror because my hair was literally a curtain. Given I’m pressed for time, I’m glad I don’t have to fight with a mane that always seemed to have a mind of its own. I touch up my makeup, applying a more in-your-face lipstick color and slide into my high heels. I give myself one last inspection and nod, satisfied with the end result. Not bad. Feminine, but screams of ‘I mean business.’ I run back to the living room and snatch my phone from the kitchen table. Three minutes to spare. My fingers fly on the screen as I shoot Keira a quick text. MICHAELA I have to run out. I’ll be back early evening. KEIRA What’s with you today? It’s like in those old-time cartoons when the Tasmanian devil enters the scene in a tornado swirl. You’re like a whirlwind––In. Out. In. Out. MICHAELA Phoenix and I have to put our heads together to figure out how to manage the media. It’s far more civilized to do this over lunch. There’s more to it, but Keira doesn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway. KEIRA You two hit it off? Yeah, like a meteor hits earth at lightning speed before crashing in an explosion of fragments, causing devastation in its wake. MICHAELA You’re reading into things. There’s a lot to talk about. A face-toface is easier. KEIRA How was the conversation with your dad? Is your st epmom behind this fiasco? MICHAELA I have to go. KEIRA
When do I get the full story? MICHAELA Later. I promise. KEIRA You better. MICHAELA You have my word. KEIRA So you’ll spill your guts to pay for your dinner? MICHAELA Deal. KEIRA Okay, I can wait a few hours. I can imagine the grin on her face. MICHAELA I’ll text when I’m about to come back. KEIRA Sounds good. Have fun. I doubt it. I’m sure Keira thinks I’m crazy, but I can’t talk to her until I talk to Phoenix. I used the excuse of a heat-induced headache as a copout to stay locked up in the guesthouse. In reality, I wanted to research the hell out of Phoenix König. Not that I had to since Daddy sent me a dossier compiled by the same private investigators who found dirt on my soon-to-be-exst epmother. Pretty CIA. When Daddy is facing a financial conundrum, he takes a page right out of a thriller novel. I’m impressed. There’s so much more than meets the eye about King König. I store my laptop and run out the door. The last thing I want is for the chauffeur to honk. Keira is suspicious as it is. As I sit in the back of the chauffeured dark-blue Bentley, my mind wanders. This morning, I woke up with the intention of enjoying Rhys’s spectacular pool and spending the day hanging out with my friend while working on my tan. Several hours later, my world is turned upside down. I’m on my way to meet a man I swore to never see again––a man who holds my fate in the palm of his hands. The joke is on me. If being in Phoenix König’s presence for a mere twenty minutes sent my system into overdrive, I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like spending a few hours with him. There’s no turning back. He holds the bargaining chips, and he has the power to play me like a puppet. I want to understand what my future will look like. After talking to my father, I oscillated between anger at Thana, bafflement at how Daddy shut me out of
something pretty freaking important, and fear at how I unknowingly became the last pawn my father had to play. But, like Daddy, I made a promise to my mother on her death bed. I will honor it even if it kills me. I brush my hand over my dress, smoothing the fabric. I shouldn’t care this much about how I look, but that doesn’t stop me from pulling out my compact to check my makeup. Again. What am I doing? I don’t give a flying flip about King Kong Tycoon’s opinion of my wardrobe. I’m about to slide my compact back into my handbag, when a sign catches my eye. Marina del Rey Harbor? I stick my nose to the window and gawk at the incredible view. We’re meeting at a seaside restaurant? Phoenix said he wanted us to meet in a private setting, this isn’t what I had pictured in my mind. As the car crawls to a stop, the door flies open. I inhale through the nose and exhale. This is it, Mikki. I look up, expecting to meet the eager gaze of a courteous valet, but I’m dead wrong. “You made it.” Phoenix flashes me a warm smile. For a few beats, I stare at him, my mouth gaping. His earlier business attire was flawless and screamed power. This more casual, but equally impeccable, head-to-toe black look is badassness personified. His shirt frames his broad-shoulders, making him appear imposing. His tailored pants accentuate thick thighs. And those shoes... I’m guessing also bespoke. I’m willing to bet money I don’t have, the man has a spectacular ass. My eyes roam back to his gorgeous face and I thank God his shades hide his mesmerizing eyes. “Cat got your tongue, kitty cat?” I snap out of my trance. “As if your chauffeur was going to drive me anywhere else than our meeting destination?” There’s an in voluntary edge to my voice. “You’re in fine fighting mood, as usual,” he says. “What can I say? I’m always ready to rumble.” “That could be misconstrued as a double entendre,” he says. I clear my throat. “Don’t get any ideas. This is strictly business.” “For once we agree.” He extends his hand. “Shall we?” I’m perfectly capable of getting out of the car by myself, but I’m not immune to his gallantry. I slide my hand into
his. Bad move. I could’ve ignored the electric current rushing through my veins when he held my wrist captive against his muscular chest earlier, but now that his hand encircles mine, there’s no denying the pulse of desire coursing through me. What is going on with me? He pulls me out of the vehicle and we stand toe to toe. He shifts his attention to the vehicle and taps three times on the hood. My getaway car rolls off, leaving me behind in the enemy camp. Dammit. Now I’m trapped. Returning his focus on me, he slides his sunglasses to the top of his head. Those eyes... I can’t even pinpoint that shade of blue. And that hair. This man has zero imperfections. So unfair. Phoenix gives me a onceover. I return the favor. I take him all in––inch, by inch, by inch. My high heels do nothing to put a dent in the difference of height. Phoenix towers over me. Mind you, I’m only five-two, but this guy is well over six feet tall. Height is sexy on a man. And this man is a tall glass of smoking hot sexiness. As my inner voice chatters on, a familiar smug smile tugs at the edges of Phoenix’s mouth. “You like what you see, kitty cat?” I roll my eyes hard. It’s the best I can do to avoid admitting I was openly gawking at him. “It’s okay,” he says. “You can tell me if you do.” His words drip with cocksureness. Darn. He caught me red-handed, but I’m not willing to cave in that easily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “It’s the two of us, Michaela.” My name shouldn’t sound this good on his lips. “It’ll remain our little secret.” I roll my eyes again. Speaking would only betray me. “Fair enough. I’ll go first.” His gaze rakes over my body, eating me up with blatant appreciation. He leans in until his breath brushes against my cheek. His closeness is enough to send my d eprived system into overdrive. I close my eyes, relishing the sensation. “You look absolutely beautiful.” To my detriment, I’m not immune to the raspiness of his voice. I clear my throat and take a st ep back, distancing myself from him. Call it self-preservation. I could blame the scorching California sun for the reason my body is heating up like I’m
swimming in a pool of lava, but I’d be lying to myself. His blue eyes drop to my feet. “You wear those well.” I’m tongue tied, which is unusual for me. I’m stumped as to how to r eply. And I have no clue what to make of the glint in his eyes... the one that threatens to make me forget he’s the enemy. That unsettling feeling returns full force, so my claws come out. “Save it, Phoenix. I’m here, aren’t I?” “I can’t win with you.” He lets out an exasperated breath. “Why can’t you acc ept a damn compliment?” “Thank you. There. No need to butter me up, King Kong Tycoon.” “King Kong Tycoon?” He frowns. “The press has many labels for me, but that’s one I’ve never heard before.” “It’s an original. Like yours truly.” I point at my chest. “What’s behind the mocking moniker?” “Well, you’re the giant ape in the luxury hotel industry, the press calls you King König, and apparently, you’re a tycoon––” “Apparently?” His eyebrows shoot to his forehead. “So we’re clear, Michaela, I’ve earned my stripes.” “Noted.” “As for my last name, König literally means king in German.” “Oh. How did I miss that in my research?” Crap. The admittance was an overshare. He smiles. In my haste, I forgot my shades. That’s a liability because his smile is blinding. “You’ve looked me up.” I respond with a noncommittal shrug. “And you think you know everything there is to know about me?” “Something tells me you’re a man of many, many layers.” Darn. That came out so breathy. “Good thing you have three-hundred-sixty days to discover my many layers...” My precarious reality slaps me right across the face. I swallow a lump in my throat and force myself to appear confident, even though I’m fully aware that aggravating the man who can help save our family hotel might not be a good idea. “Do you own the entire harbor?” I’m sure he doesn’t, but I need to change the subject. Fast. The edges of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t smile... exc ept with his gorgeous eyes. “I’m a multibillionaire—not quite a trillionaire yet,” he says. “My brothers and I each own a boat. I figured it’s the safest place for us to
meet.” “You’re not planning on kidnapping me and taking me to some remote private island until I agree to this merger-marriage, right? I don’t want to disappear, never to be found.” He flinches. “You have a hell of an imagination.” The fact the thought comes to mind indicates how surreal this day has been so far. “You’re a complete stranger.” “You’re the one who wanted to meet in person,” he says. “I was ready to leave your driver’s license with the concierge, but no, you wanted a faceto-face, and now you’re giving me attitude?” “I expected to have my feet firmly planted on the ground. When the Bentley dropped me off, I thought perhaps we were meeting at a seaside restaurant, not on your getaway boat.” “Complete privacy is imperative. Meeting at a restaurant is far too risky. Hence, why we’re here.” He drags a hand down his face. “Are we going to argue about everything?” I square my shoulders. “Well, I’ve never been sailing before.” I don’t answer his question. Why make a promise I’m not going to ke ep, right? “You’ve never been on a cruise?” “It’s never appealed to me. Too many people in a confined space.” “And no debauched spring break parties on a boat in the Caribbean or in Mexico while you were in college?” “No. I’m a good girl—always have been.” I flash him an innocent smile and bat my eyelashes. I’m only missing the halo. “Since I’m a virgin, I hope I can handle it.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Didn’t you tell me you weren’t a virgin this morning?” I blush from ear to ear. “I mean, I’m a sea virgin. I hope I won’t get seasick.” I try to save face. “I’d hate to embarrass myself.” “Don’t worry. We’re not setting sail. So you can toss the kidnapping plot out the window,” he says. “We’re going to enjoy a nice lunch on the water, without having to worry about prying eyes, anyone within earshot, or paparazzi.” “Are you going to dazzle me with your cooking skills?” “No. It wouldn’t make sense to poison you this early in the game. I need you alive and kicking.” He stretches his lips into an evil grin. “Not funny.” “I thought it was.” The evil grin morphs into an arresting smile. Bastard. “The
chefs at the Pompadour worked their magic. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.” “Sounds like I get to live another day and I get to enjoy a spectacular lunch.” He chuckles. “Let’s go onboard and get this business meeting on its way.” “Okay.” We start walking. “My boat is docked right at the end. Her name is Daniela. She’s the one with the American flag and the flag with the king chess piece wearing a crown.” “You named your boat after your best hookup, König?” I laugh. “Man, she must’ve been something else.” It’s a low blow, but I can’t help it. His face turns somber. “No. I didn’t name my boat after my best fuck.” He takes a de ep breath in. “It was my mom’s name. She passed away—” “I’m so sorry, Phoenix.” Fuck, I put my foot in my mouth. I feel like the worst individual on the planet. I deserve the guillotine for that insensitive remark. “That was out of line.” “You didn’t know.” I shake my head in response because it’s best to ke ep my mouth shut. He ke eps talking, oblivious to my utter shame. “My father, brothers, and I honor Mom’s memory on our boats. Daniela Graciela Alandra Emiliana Peleritti was an Italian Argentine, born in Córdoba. Italians and Argentinians tend to give their kids multiple middle names. Hence, why Mom had three. Dad’s yacht is named Bella Daniela. He used to call Mom, Bella. These days, Roman uses it since Dad doesn’t use it as much. Slate and Wilder have their own yacht and use it in rotation. They named their boat, Alandra. The name means defender. Mom was the ultimate momma bear, even when we were grown men. She carried a great deal of guilt at not being able to prevent my older brother’s death. Barron’s boat was named The Peleritti. We sold it after he died—it carried too many memories.” I’m all choked up. “What a beautiful way to honor your mom.” “Yeah.” A smile that doesn’t reach his eyes appears on his gorgeous lips. “Let’s go,” he says. “Okay.” We ke ep walking. “There she is,” Phoenix says.
Since my eyes are trained to my feet to avoid getting my heels stuck between the planks of the boardwalk, I’m unpr epared when I look up. Whoa. “That’s not a boat. That’s a yacht.” He shrugs. “Sixty feet of smooth sailing when I take her out at sea.” Some of us have a charmed life. “Come on, I’ll help you onboard.” Phoenix takes my hand into his. Like earlier, his touch ignites my body. The effect he has on me screws with my head. I balance my shoe on the first stair, grip the rail, and climb onto the luxury vessel. If I could whistle, I would. I may not like the guy, but he surely knows how to live. The sleek, plush and streamlined interior of Phoenix’s yacht matches the unquestionable elegance that’s so prevalent at the Pompadour. The space is expansive and to my surprise, inviting. I have nothing to gauge this yacht against, but I suspect this baby cost an obscene amount of money. “This is––” I search for my words. “It’s so luxurious.” “I wanted it to be comfortable.” “Comfortable? You could live on this yacht year-round.” “I have,” he says. “Not so much anymore. My brothers and I completed a luxury tri-tower residency complex six months ago. Along with the house we each own, we own a penthouse suite in the new residencies. We reserved the top two floors of each of the three buildings and never released them to the market. A König heir or one of our cousins occupies those coveted suites. Each top floor has two large penthouse suites. Irish twins Slate and Wilder share a floor in the same building. Roman and I live in s eparate buildings. For now, neither of us has a neighbor. The suites on the floor right below ours are an exact r eplica of our suites, but we don’t call them penthouses.” “It’s good to be Phoenix König. Heck, it’s good to be a König, period.” I thought I had seen it all in New York. I was wrong. There’s money and then there’s König money. I’m a bit intimidated by Phoenix’s wealth. Can I pull this off? Can I handle playing the role of wife to a multibillionaire tycoon who sits at the helm of a multinational conglomerate? “Most days it’s good to be me.” His response jolts me back to the moment.
“You’re sitting on top of the world.” I extend my arms in my attempt to encompass his universe. “What would a guy like you have to worry about?” “Sometimes my name feels like a heavy weight I have to carry. Every day, I’m reminded I’m responsible for a legacy... and the livelihood of thousands of people who count on me. The implications of screwing up have a ripple effect.” His words hit me at the core. Although our family hotel doesn’t employ as many people as Phoenix’s, I get it. I offer him a sad smile. “I understand. After all, that’s why I’m standing here.”