The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(4)
Trouble.
“I’ll leave, Frank. No problem.” She grinned, though it didn’t reach her hazel eyes. “If you give me the building I’ve spent the last six months trying to buy from your contrary ass.”
He stared. Of all the reactions he’d expected of her, tossing their thwarted business deal in his face wasn’t one of them. He’d never had any intention of selling that damn building to Kingdom Corp, and Journey had to know it. “No.”
She shrugged a single shoulder, her smile falling away. “Then I guess you’re not getting me out of your club without causing a scene. The media loves to hate me, you know. I make excellent headlines. How much profit do you think you’ll lose if it comes out that you blacklisted Lydia King’s daughter?”
“Slow your roll, Duchess.”
She straightened, eyes flashing. “For the last goddamn time—do not call me that.”
Frank was supposed to be above petty bullshit. He’d worked damn hard to elevate himself over the mistakes his parents had made and the consequences those same mistakes generated. If he wanted to take someone down, then he took them down piece by piece. Methodically. Ensuring that, when he walked away, they wouldn’t have the energy or the willpower to hold a knife to his back. All being petty did was create unnecessary enemies.
He didn’t need help in that department. Frank made enemies simply by being what he was—a powerful black man moving among Houston’s elite.
He couldn’t seem to resist needling this woman, though. He raked his gaze over her, forcing his expression to be impassive. “You can’t bring up the media without mentioning the nickname they coined for you. They still use it. Might as well get used to it. You were the one who tried to marry into royalty.”
Her pink lips thinned. “You are such a dick.”
No point in denying it—it was the truth, after all. He reached for his phone. “I’m calling you a cab and you’re going to get your ass into it, even if it takes me hauling you over my shoulder to make it happen.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Journey pushed out of her chair and took two large steps to put herself right up against the desk. She planted her hands on the dark wood and leaned over, looking down her nose at him. “Get off your fucking power trip, Frank. You’re nothing. You’re less than nothing.”
He sat back in his chair. Journey might be impulsive and speak before thinking when she was in social situations, but she was a damn professional the rest of the time. She wasn’t like so many of the others of her kind. No matter what she thought of him, she wouldn’t give it voice under normal circumstances. Trying to ice Frank out would only result in Kingdom Corp suffering the consequences when he blocked any future real estate deals they sought. She knew that, and if there was one god Journey King worshipped, it was Kingdom Corp. She’d never let something as mundane as personal opinion negatively affect her company.
He stood, using his size to push her back.
Except she didn’t back up. She glared at him from the other side of the desk as if whatever had crawled up her ass was his fault. He braced his hands a bare inch from hers, leaning down to get right in her face. “Watch your tone, Duchess. The rest of the world might line up to blow smoke up your ass, but I don’t play that game. Words and actions have consequences. You want to play in the big leagues? You better damn well act like it.”
Chapter Two
Journey could barely speak past the tangled mess of emotions inside her. Frank Evans was such a smug bastard, so damn sure he knew everything there was to know about everyone around him. It didn’t help that he was absolutely gorgeous, a warrior in a three-piece suit. His dark brown skin gleamed in the low light of the office, his eyes seeming to swallow up the shadows. Everything about him was downright overwhelming, from his linebacker shoulders, to the well-defined chest that even his custom suits couldn’t hide, to his sensual lips that never seemed to smile.
She straightened slowly. Not retreating. Restrategizing.
Journey held no illusions. Frank didn’t give two fucks about her. He did care about her cousin, which was most likely the source of this little powwow. She lifted her chin. “You’re not shuttling me out of here like some kind of dirty secret.” If she left Cocoa’s, there was nothing to do but go home. To think. To let the knowledge sink in regarding just how fucked her life was right now. Frank thinks I can’t roll in the big leagues.
He had no idea just how big the leagues were that she played in right now. For Frank, it was all money and business and whatever real estate moguls did between buying up property after property.
For Journey, the stakes were so much higher.
“You’re not a dirty secret, Duchess. You’re a fucking mess.” Each word cut through her, a knife to the chest, the stomach, the neck.
The fact that they were true only made it hurt worse.
She took a careful step back and then another. This was a mistake. This whole thing was a mistake. I should have gone with my first instinct and run home. Trying to prove something is only going to result in my looking like a damn fool. She couldn’t say it aloud. There were only two people Journey trusted in this world, and Frank fucking Evans didn’t make the list. She spun for the door. “Have a nice night, jackass.”