In a very gentlemanly move, King opened the door and gestured for me to get in. As I slid past him, he looked down at me, eyes intent on my face.

“You’re not wearing any makeup,” he said, his focus moving over my cheeks and down to my lips.

It didn’t surprise me that he noticed the change, because I usually did wear makeup to the office.

“Yeah, they’ll be doing it at the shoot.”

He exhaled. “I quite like your face without it.”

Well, okay then. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I simply continued my way inside the Merc. King slid in after me, and then we were off. The journey was quiet as I fidgeted with my hands, a little self-conscious now that he’d seen where I lived. It was one thing to casually mention it in conversation, but it was another to have him actually go there in person. I could feel him watching me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t look at him.

He must have sensed something was up with me when he asked, “What’s wrong, Alexis?”

There was something about him saying my name in the small confines of the back seat that made the skin on the back of my neck tingle. I flicked my eyes to his for a second before looking back out the window. “Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. You’re not your usual chatty self. Out with it.”

I sighed and crossed one leg over the other, causing King’s attention to wander to my thighs for a moment. I was beginning to lose count of how many times he’d done that, and it made me swallow, hard. He was one of those real attentive types who picked up on body language. I could tell. I also wondered what he could read from me. Was I successful in hiding my attraction?

“I’m….” I began and then paused, feeling ridiculous. “This is stupid. I never make apologies for who I am or where I come from, but I just feel a bit embarrassed about my flat.”

“Your flat is lovely, Alexis.”

I pulled my lips through my teeth. “Thank you, but I mean the outside, not the inside. It’s probably because I’ve been to your place and seen how fancy it is. I bet you’ve never even stepped foot in a building like mine before in your life.”

He studied me, face drawn into a serious expression. I felt his shoulder brush mine when he said, “I haven’t, but what does that matter? You don’t always have to be stuck where you are. You can improve your life endlessly so long as you have the capability of doing it, and you, Alexis, have the capability. Don’t ever let anyone else tell you otherwise. But back to the matter at hand. You’re my friend — therefore, I don’t care where you live.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded and kind of flattered by all that stuff he said about my capabilities. I didn’t want him to know I was flattered, though, so I ignored his compliment and blundered on. “And that’s another thing. Isn’t it a bit weird that I’m your friend and I also work for you? Do you normally make friends with your PAs? Isn’t this, whatever we’re doing, against the rules?”

“That’s a lot of questions.”

“I need a lot of answers.”

He was close enough that I could feel his breath on my ear. “Okay, I’ll endeavour to give you some. First, I wouldn’t say it’s weird that we’re friends. It’s more out of the ordinary.”

“Same difference.”

“Let me finish.”

“Fine,” I huffed.

“Second, no, I don’t normally make friends with my PAs. In fact, I’d never planned to make friends with you. It just sort of happened. I like you. You make me laugh. And you’re different from the other people I know. Having you around makes the day that little bit more interesting. I enjoy the spontaneity of never quite knowing what you’re going to come out with next.” He paused to laugh gently. “And third, no, it’s not against the rules. I’m free to be friends with whomever I choose, employee or not.” He went quiet then, and I turned to see why he’d stopped talking.

His eyes looked…heated.

Now he whispered, his breath kissing my ear, “If I were to fuck you, it would be frowned upon, but it still wouldn’t be breaking the rules. I’m not your teacher or your college professor, Alexis.”

Eight

Oh. My. God. I felt like I’d momentarily lost the ability to speak. What on earth was he playing at? I mean, his driver was sitting right in front of us. He didn’t show any signs of having heard King, but still. I think I became a touch hysterical when I shakily wagged a finger at him. “You have all the wrong equipment for me, remember?”

Jesus, was that even my voice? I sounded way too high-pitched.

He was silent a moment, and when he replied his voice was low and quiet, “Oh, yes, how could I forget?”

Now he stared out the window, arms folded across his chest. This was turning out to be the most awkward, sexually frustrating car journey of my life. It was a relief when we finally reached the location of the photo shoot, a warehouse building in Shoreditch. King got out first and went around to the front of the car, leaning down and talking to his driver through the window. The man nodded and drove off after I’d gotten out, too.

King glanced at me and gestured that I should lead the way. I took a few steps over to the intercom and pressed the button to be let in. A female voice answered, and a second later we were being buzzed through. King was quiet as we went up the stairs to the studio. I was dying to know what he was thinking. What had brought all that on back in the car? I mean, he was often flirtatious, but never outright lewd, unless of course we were exchanging dirty jokes. But there was nothing humorous about what he’d said to me on the drive.