KING OF EMPIRE

CHAPTER SEVEN

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ISABELLA MAIDEN'S POV

Kai wrapped an arm around my waist, anchoring me against his torso. It
was like being enveloped in an inferno. Heat seeped through my shirt and
into my veins; a flush rose to the surface of my skin, which tingled beneath
the sudden, heavy weight of my uniform.
I should do something—apologize for running into him (even though it
hadn’t been my fault), step back, run the hell away—but my mind had
glitched. All I could focus on was the solid strength of his body and the
rapid thud, thud, thud of my heart.
Kai tipped his chin down, his eyes finding mine. For once, he wasn’t
wearing a tie and jacket. Instead, he wore a white button-down with the
sleeves rolled up and the top button undone. The shirt was so soft, and he
smelled so nice, that I got the inane urge to press my face into his chest. Or,
worse, to press my mouth to the hollow of his throat and see if he tasted as
good as he smelled.
My breath escaped through parted lips. The tingling intensified;
everything felt warm and heavy, like I’d been dipped in sun-kissed honey.
Kai’s expression remained indifferent, but his throat flexed with a telltale
swallow.
I wasn’t the only one who felt the electric link between us.
The realization was enough to snap me out of my trance.
What was I doing? This was Kai, for Christ’s sake. He was one hundred
(okay, ninety) percent not my type and two hundred percent off-limits

I wasn’t going to make the same mistake as my predecessor, who’d
gotten fired after my supervisor caught her giving a club member a blow
job. She’d been reckless, and now she was blacklisted from working at
every bar within a forty-mile radius. Valhalla took its rules—and
consequences—seriously.
Plus…
Remember what happened the last time you got involved with someone
who was off-limits?
My stomach lurched, and the fog finally receded enough for me to break
free from his embrace. Despite the heater humming in the background,
stepping out of Kai’s arms was like leaving a cozy, fire-lit cabin to traverse
the mountains in the dead of winter.
Goose bumps scattered over my arms, but I played it off with a casual
lilt. “Are you stalking me?”
Running into him here once could’ve been coincidence, but twice was
suspicious. Especially on consecutive nights.
I expected him to brush me off with his usual dry amusement. Instead,
the tiniest hint of pink colored his cheekbones.
“We discussed this last time. I’m a member of the club, and I’m simply
availing myself of its amenities,” he said, the words stilted and formal.
“You’ve never used the piano room before this week.”
A faint lift of his brow. “How do you know?”
Instinct. If Kai made regular appearances here, I’d feel it. He altered the
shape of every space he entered.
“Just a hunch,” I said. “But I’m glad you’re coming more often. You
could use the practice.” I tamped down a smile at the way his eyes sparked.
“Maybe one day, you’ll catch up to me.”
To my disappointment, he didn’t take the bait.
“One can only hope. Of course…” The earlier spark turned thoughtful.
Assessing. “Last night could’ve been a fluke. You talk a big game, but can
you duplicate the same level of performance?”
Now he was the one dangling the bait, his words gleaming like a minnow
hooked to a jig head.
I shouldn’t fall for it. I had to get more words in—I was woefully behind
on my daily word count goal of three thousand words—and I’d only snuck
in here after my shift because I’d hoped it would jump-start my creativity. I
didn’t have time to indulge in Kai’s veiled challenges.
The practical side of me insisted I return home that minute to write;
another, more convincing side glowed with pride. Kai wouldn’t have
challenged me if he weren’t rattled, and there were so few things I was truly
talented at that I couldn’t resist the urge to show off. Just a little.
I released a confident smile. “Let’s put it to the test, shall we? Your
choice.”
The weight of his gaze followed me to the bench. I opened the fallboard
and tried to focus on the smooth, familiar keys instead of the man behind
me.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked.
“ ‘Winter Wind.’ ” Kai’s presence brushed my back. A shiver of
pleasure, followed by the slow drip of warmth down my spine. “Chopin.”
It was one of the composer’s most difficult études, but it was doable.
I glanced at Kai, who leaned against the side of the piano and assessed
me with the detached interest of a professor grading a student. Moonlight
spilled over his relaxed form, sculpting his cheekbones with silver and
etching shadows beneath those inscrutable eyes.
The air turned hazy with anticipation.
I sank into it, wrenching my gaze back to the piano, closing my eyes, and
letting the electric currents carry me through the piece. I didn’t play Chopin
often, so it started rusty, but just as I hit my stride, a soft rustle interrupted
my focus.
My eyes flew open. Kai had moved from his previous spot. He was now
seated on the bench, his body scant inches from mine.
I hit the wrong key. The discordant note jarred my bones, and though I
quickly corrected myself, I couldn’t lose myself in the music anymore. I
was too busy drowning in awareness, in the scent of the woods after a
rainstorm and the way Kai’s gaze burned a hole in my cheek.
Yesterday, I’d played like no one was watching. Today, I played like the
whole world was watching, except it wasn’t the whole world. It was one
man.
I finished the étude, frustration chafing beneath my skin. Kai watched me
without a word, his expression unreadable save for a tiny pinch between his
brows.
“You distracted me,” I said before he could state the obvious.
The pinch loosened, revealing a glimmer of amusement. “How so?”
“You know how.”
The amusement deepened. “I was merely sitting. I didn’t say or do a
single thing.”
“You’re sitting too close.” I cast a pointed glance at the sliver of black
leather seating between us. “It’s an obvious intimidation tactic.”
“Ah, yes. The secret art of sitting too closely. I should contact the CIA
and inform them of this groundbreaking tactic.”
“Ha ha,” I grumbled, my ego too bruised to make way for humor. “Don’t
you have somewhere else to be instead of bothering an innocent
bystander?”
“I have many other places to be.” A brief light illuminated the shadows
in his eyes. “But I chose to be here.”
His words sank into my bones, dousing the flames of my disgruntlement.
The light flared, then died, submerged once again beneath pools of
darkness. “How did you learn to play so well?” Kai switched topics so
abruptly my brain scrambled to catch up. “Most obligatory childhood
lessons don’t cover such difficult pieces.”
Pieces of memories spilled into my consciousness. A golden afternoon
here, an evening performance there.
I kept them locked in a box whenever I could, but Kai’s question pried it
open with distressingly low effort.
“My father was a music teacher. He could play everything. The violin,
the cello, the flute.” A familiar ache crept into my throat. “But the piano
was his first love, and he taught us from a young age. My mom wasn’t a
music person, and I think he wanted someone else in the family who could
connect with it the way he did.”
Vignettes from my childhood floated to the surface. My dad’s deep,
patient voice guiding me through the scales. My mom taking me shopping
for a new dress and my family crowding in the living room for my first
“recital.” I’d stumbled a few times, but everyone pretended I hadn’t.
Afterward, my father swept me up in a huge hug, whispered how proud
he was of me, and took all of us out for ice cream sundaes. He’d bought me
a special triple scoop of chocolate fudge brownie, and I remembered
thinking life couldn’t possibly get any better than that moment.
I blinked back a telltale sting in my eyes. I hadn’t cried in public since
my dad’s funeral, and I refused to start again now.
“ ‘Us.’ You and your siblings?” Kai prompted gently. I didn’t know why
he was so interested in my background, but once I started talking, I couldn’t
stop.
“Yes.” I swallowed the swell of memories and marshaled my emotions
into some semblance of order. “I have four older brothers. They went along
with the piano lessons to make our dad happy, but I was the only one who
truly enjoyed them. That was why he let them off the hook after they
learned the basics but continued teaching me.”
I didn’t want to be a professional pianist. Never had, never will. There
was a special magic in loving something without capitalizing on it, and I
was comforted by the idea that there was at least one thing in my life I
could turn to with no expectations, pressures, or guilt.
“What about you?” I lightened my tone. “Do you have any siblings?”
I knew little about Kai despite his family’s notoriety. For people who’d
built their fortune on dissecting the lives of others, they were notoriously
private themselves.
“I have a younger sister, Abigail. She lives in London.”
“Right.” An image of a female version of Kai—cool, elegant, and decked
out head to toe in tasteful designer clothing—flashed through my mind.
“Let me guess. You both also took piano lessons growing up, along with
violin, French, tennis, and Mandarin.”
Kai’s lips curved. “Are we that predictable?”
“Most rich people are.” I shrugged. “No offense.”
“None taken,” he said wryly. “There’s nothing more flattering than being
called predictable.”
He shifted in his seat, and our knees brushed. Lightly, so lightly it barely
counted as a touch, but every cell in my body tensed like I’d been
electrocuted.
Kai stilled. He didn’t move his knee, and I didn’t breathe, and we were
tossed back to the beginning of the night, when the latch of his arms around
my waist conjured all sorts of inappropriate thoughts and fantasies.
Tangling tongues. Sweat-slicked skin. Dark groans and breathy pleas.
The point of contact between us burned, taking our easy banter and
condensing it into something heavier. More dangerous.
A blanket of static settled over my skin. I was suddenly, intensely aware
of how we would look to anyone walking in. Two people crowded on the
same bench, so close our breaths merged into one. A deceptively intimate
portrait of rules broken and propriety discarded. That was how it felt. In reality, we weren’t doing anything wrong, but I
was more exposed in that moment than if I were standing naked in the
middle of Fifth Avenue.
Kai’s eyes darkened at the edges. Neither of us had moved, but I had the
uncanny sense we were barreling down an invisible track headed off a cliff.
Get it together, Isa. You’re conversing in a piano room, for God’s sake,
not bungee jumping off the Macau Tower.
I dragged my attention back to the conversation at hand. “So I was right
about all the lessons. Predictable.” The words came out more breathless
than I’d intended, but I masked it with a bright smile. “Unless you also have
some exciting hobby I don’t know about. Do you tame wild horses in your
free time? BASE jump off the top of that tower in Dubai? Host orgies in
your private library?”
Embers smoldered, then cooled.
“I’m afraid not.” Kai’s voice could’ve melted butter. “I don’t like
sharing.”
The ground shifted, throwing me off-balance. I was scrambling for a
response, any response, when a loud laugh sliced through the room like a
guillotine.
The electric link sizzled into oblivion. Our heads swiveled toward the
door, and I instinctively jerked my leg away from his.
Luckily, whoever was in the hall didn’t enter the room. The murmur of
voices eventually faded, leaving silence in their wake.
But the spell had shattered, and there was no gluing the pieces back
together. Not tonight.
“I have to go.” I stood so abruptly my knee banged against the underside
of the piano. I ignored the pain ricocheting up and down my leg and
summoned a flippant smile. “As entertaining as this has been, I have to, um,
feed my snake.”
Ball pythons only needed to be fed every week or two, and I’d already
fed Monty yesterday, but Kai didn’t need to know that.
He didn’t show a visible reaction to my words. He just inclined his head
and replied with a simple, “Good night.”
I waited until I was out of the room and down the hall before I allowed
myself to relax. What the hell was I thinking? My night had been a
spectacular series of bad decisions. First, going to the piano room instead of
heading home to work on my manuscript (in my defense, I usually wrote
better after a piano session), then staying and semi-flirting with Kai.
My run-in with him must’ve knocked my good sense loose.
I made it halfway down the stairs when I ran into Parker, the bar
manager.
“Isabella.” Surprise lit her eyes. With her lean frame and platinum pixie
cut, she bore a striking resemblance to the model Agyness Deyn. “I didn’t
expect to still see you here.”
My shift had ended two hours ago.
“I was in the piano room,” I said, electing to tell the truth. Some Valhalla
managers got testy about employees using the facilities even in accordance
with the rules, but Parker knew about my hobby and encouraged it.
“Of course. I should’ve known.” Her eyes twinkled.
Parker was a gem, as far as managers went. A thousand times better than
Creepy Charlie or Handsy Harry from my previous places of employment.
Besides my friends Vivian and Sloane, she was also one of the few people
in New York who knew—and kept—my secret. For that, I would always be
grateful.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, but congratulations on your
upcoming work anniversary.” A smile warmed her face. “I’m glad I have
you on my team.”
Warmth sloshed in my stomach, eroding some of my earlier guilt.
“Thank you.”
Take that, Gabriel. He might not have faith in me, but my manager said I
was one of her “best employees.”
Parker’s words followed me all the way across town to my apartment,
where Monty snoozed in his vivarium and my manuscript sat, seventy-nine
thousand words short of its eighty-thousand word target.
Bartending paid the bills, but like with piano, I wasn’t interested in it as a
career. Still, it felt good to be good at something. Parker had worked at
Valhalla for years; she’d seen plenty of people come and go, and she was
impressed by me.
I couldn’t let her down.
That meant keeping my nose clean, staying focused, and staying far, far
away from a certain British billionaire.
But when I climbed into bed that night and fell into a fitful sleep, my
dreams had nothing to do with work and everything to do with dark hair
and stolen touches.

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