King Read Online Free Page B

of people to the table, pulling my chair out in a chivalrous gesture for
me to sit. Maybe I had been wrong about the gentlemanly qualities of Jason
King, I mused inwardly, taking in his delicious profile and realising he was
still seething. Maybe not.
    The
table was buzzing with chatter as we introduced ourselves and I wasn’t wasting
the opportunity, much to the annoyance of the man on my right. “I absolutely
adore your work, Mr Wright” I smiled openly, the fall collection was incredible
and I truly admired the influence of the pre war era. The collection was a
perfect mix of sophistication and fun and I love the way your clothes are
designed to be worn by all women. I own the ‘Michaela’” I smiled, which was a
little white lie, there was no way I could blow a month’s wage on one dress,
although in the case of the ‘Michaela’ I almost had. It was only a brutal last
minute intervention from Katie who all but wrestled me to the floor of the
designer boutique that had brought me to my senses.
      “I was going to wear it tonight, but I wasn’t
sure I could do it enough justice” I laughed as Tristan smiled. “You would look
wonderful in the ‘Michaela’ Charlotte. You must wear it when we meet again” he
smiled as I flushed, feeling the angry stare of Jason King at my side. I turned
to smile, wincing as he squeezed my leg under the table, hard. “Very subtle
Smith” he growled sarcastically and I could barely believe my plan was paying
off. “Do you actually own that dress?” he whispered softly in my ear, as I
turned and giggled, shaking my head. “Bit outside my price range King” I
whispered back, the small smirk that played on his lips, suddenly making me
aware that there was every chance he would expose my lie to Tristan, and my
face fell.
    “Charlotte
represents one of the companies who’ll be pitching the advertising campaign for
your collection Tristan, you could wear it then” he said turning to smile at me
as my stomach lurched, and I noticed it was the first time I had ever heard him
say my name. It sounded nice, rolling from his soft full lips I thought, before
Tristan pulled me back from my strange, involuntary musings. “Yes you must wear
the dress for the pitch” he smiled. “Bastard” I whispered coldly in his ear as
soon as the conversation changed, unable to stifle my irritation. He turned and
smirked at me, gloating in his mini victory and clearly revelling in my
humiliation.   I avoided his gaze for the
rest of the meal which had obviously been designed with the models in mind. I
was still starving after all three courses. “Do you want mine Smith?” Jason
quipped, sliding me his untouched dessert. I nodded, tucking in as he grinned,
raising his eyebrows before disappearing.
    The
lights went down in the main room as the CEO of London Models Inc welcomed
Jason on stage to thunderous applause. His presence dominated the room, his
speech about support for upcoming British designers through the King Foundation
was humbling and humorous and I was utterly captivated, along with the rest of
the room. It appeared that Jason King was a man who shared his success and vast
resource to empower others to achieve their dreams.
      He was currently blowing a rather wide hole in
my preconceptions of the arrogant, self obsessed egomaniac I thought he was,
and his delivery was powerful, charming and entrancing. If this was how he
pitched his campaigns, I wasn’t surprised he was infinitely more victorious
than me, and looking across at Tristan’s face, I knew my adversary had him too.
The thought depressed me. Despite the success of my plan to gatecrash the
event, I had landed myself in it with a little white lie which had come back to
bite me in style, and after that speech, it was definitely, irrevocably and
undoubtedly, round one to King. Maybe I should have stayed at home.
    He
was stopped by an array of beautiful models on his way back to the table,
congratulating him and no doubt,