HARD LEX: A Billionaire Romance (NIGHT OF THE KINGS SERIES Book 5) Read online

  HARD LEX

  A Night of the Kings Novel

  Shayne Ford

  Copyright © 2017 by Shayne Ford

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, organizations and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features mentioned in this book are the property of their respective owners and have been used without permission and in an editorial fashion only, with no implied endorsement.

  The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with, approved of or sponsored by the trademarks owners.

  This book is for entertainment purposes only. The author and publisher disclaim any and all responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly in relation to this book.

  This book is intended for mature audiences only.

  Written by Shayne Ford

  www.shayneford.com

  Twitter:@ShayneFordBooks

  Cover design by Shayne Ford

  The image on the cover is a licensed stock photo, and it is used for illustrative purposes, any person who may be depicted on, is a model.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Also by Shayne Ford

  About the Author

  1

  DAHLIA

  Who is Lex Harrington?

  I flip the card several times, hoping I can find the secret answer. The rectangular piece of paper stares back at me. Red with embossed, golden letters.

  This is not his regular business card which begs more questions I have no answers for.

  I sink into the bathtub, the warm water, and fragrant foam rising to my chin.

  There is no last name on his card, and it goes without saying that this is not his work email address. He’s simply Lex, a generic email address hosted by an encrypted service pops from below his name.

  Seemingly, Lex Harrington is full of secrets. What can I say? I’m not the one to judge. Of all people, I should be the first one to keep my mouth shut.

  Still, this whole story brings reality into a sharper focus and all those pesky questions that remain unanswered.

  I gulp half of the wine, set the glass on the porcelain edge, and go back to staring at his card.

  Who is Lex Harrington?

  That would be my first question.

  Who is behind the man who’s always in control, permanently analyzing, and deciding, making sure everything goes by his plan? What makes Lex Harrington tick, if anything? What makes him weak and vulnerable?

  So far there’s nothing I can point to.

  What drives him?

  That’s a better question.

  He likes money–– there’s no doubt about that, and he certainly enjoys his power, but he’s not shackled by it. And if he is, he doesn’t show it.

  He had fun tonight, and he didn’t even fuck me, not that he didn’t want to. And yet, he had a grand old time watching me squirm and lose control and fall for him.

  He knew what I was going through.

  Hiding how badly he was affecting me was truly pointless. He knows me in and out–– even the secret version of myself, and way better than I know him.

  How stupid of me to say I’d know everything about him. Better than he knows himself. How childish of me to even think that.

  So, now that he has acquainted himself with my alter ego, I wonder who does he really like? He wouldn’t touch the office girl, would he? He sure wants to see more of the naughty girl. I can’t tell that. Besides, he made it clear.

  Hmm... A bittersweet smile tugs at my lips.

  I know he also likes me. The real me.

  Dahlia.

  Does that make him a cheater?

  Strangely it does. Because he doesn’t know. And then, it doesn’t make him a cheater. Because everything is nothing but a lie.

  It sure makes me a cheater. Of the worse kind. If he discovers my little trick, there may be no place for me to hide from his wrath.

  I flip the card one more time.

  LEX.

  Has he given cards like this to the other girls?

  I don’t like that answer, so I push that thought away and shift gears.

  So, now what? What should I do?

  The sane part of me tells me to forget about Silver, lap dancing for money, and in particular Lex Harrington.

  Keeping a low-profile at work and not stirring the pot in any way, shape, or form, would be highly advisable.

  Sheila Lane should be back in the office by the end of next week. If I’m lucky, I’d probably be transferred to another department by next Monday. If I’m not, chances are I’d be kicked out in the street. Either way, I’d be out of his sight within days.

  Chances are, he’s not going to be in the office much. Once things settle down, there’s little possibility I’d blow my cover.

  It all sounds good––in theory, and yet it’s not plausible.

  I gulp the other half of my drink, pain nestling in the pit of my stomach as the truth begins to surface.

  If I’m honest.... Really, truly honest... Tonight was one of the hottest nights of my life, on par with the first one, which also belonged to him.

  Sure, I can blame it on all sorts of things, but it would be nothing but a lie.

  The truth is, I have a hard time saying no to him. And who can blame me?

  Warmed up from the wine, I slacken in the tub and pin my gaze to the card.

  “Lex Harrington. What is your secret?” I murmur, staring blankly at his card.

  “How can I do this thing with you without getting burned? Or lose my job? Or risk getting caught? Huh?”

  A noise coming from the entrance draws my eyes to the door.

  “Elsa? Is that you?”

  She shushes someone before she lets out a muffled giggle, and then I hear the door closing.

  “Where are you?” she asks, waltzing down the corridor.

  “Bathroom,” I say, craning my neck out, and training my eyes on her.

  “Where were you?” I ask as she enters the room.

  She gives me a mysterious smile.

  “Out.”

  I check the time on my phone.

  “It’s almost midnight.”

  “I met a friend,” she says, grinning while evading my eyes.

  I wonder when we have become such liars. Our parents were always straightforward people. We’ve never heard them lying, or catch them having secrets–– to put it elegantly.

  “Have you made up with Jordan?” I ask, concerned.

  She looks at me, her hand waving.

  “No, no. No fucking way,” she says.

  She leans against the sink and c
rosses her arms over her chest.

  “What’s the problem with Jordan?”

  “He’s a jerk.”

  “Meaning?”

  She shrugs.

  “He doesn’t do stuff the way you want it?” I ask.

  “Yeah, that too...”

  “What do you want him to do Elsa?”

  “For one, to leave me alone. I want to work and not have someone watch over my shoulder all the time.”

  I look at her for a moment.

  “You don’t love him.”

  Her smile fades away. She sways her head side to side, and as she glances away, I see the glint of tears in her eyes.

  “Then why did you hook up with him?”

  She shifts her gaze to me again, and I see the sadness in her eyes. I let out a quiet sigh. It’s useless to split hairs now. The past is the past.

  “How old is he?”

  “Twenty three.”

  “He’s young.”

  “I’m twenty,” she says as if that’s a winning argument.

  “Thank you for reminding me.”

  She chuckles softly.

  “So how was it?” she asks, shifting the conversation.

  I glance at her.

  “Tonight. At Silver,” she says.

  “Good,” I mutter.

  “Tasha said you forgot your money again,” she says.

  “Shit. The money...” I mumble, and for some stupid reason, I begin to laugh.

  She grins.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “Nothing. Perhaps this is a sign I’m not fit for this job. If I can’t even remember to collect my money.”

  “That, or maybe you had too much fun,” she says.

  I search her eyes for a moment.

  “Have you?” I ask. “When you worked there?”

  Her lips curve into a naughty smile.

  “Yeah... occasionally. You?” she asks, a sly grin beaming in her eyes.

  “Me? I only worked two nights.”

  “Tasha said it was the same client.”

  “That’s because he was the one who had all the fun,” I say, lying through my teeth, barely stifling a smile.

  DAHLIA

  Monday morning finds me baffled, no different than Friday evening left me.

  I wake up earlier than usual and spend twice as much time in front of the mirror. I whip up a toned down look again, my office version completely different than the girl who got him hard.

  Based on what he said last week, there’s little chance he’d be in the office today.

  Fashioning a navy business suit comprised of a pencil skirt and tailored jacket, hair styled in my signature bun, I walk into the office fifteen minutes to nine.

  A moment later, the receptionist knocks on the door.

  “Yes,” I say, raising my eyes.

  She looks at me from the doorway.

  “What is it?”

  She takes a few steps inside, careful not to make a noise.

  “Alexander Harrington is in his office,” she says quietly.

  My mouth falls open, my heart spasming in my chest.

  “Okay,” I say, breathless.

  “He said he wanted to see you as soon as you arrived.”

  “Did he say why?”

  She shakes her head.

  Of course, he didn’t.

  “What time did he come in?”

  “Seven thirty.”

  Hmm... Someone couldn’t sleep.

  “Okay. Thank you,” I say as she pulls away.

  I spend a couple of minutes smoothing my skirt and going over possible scenarios on why would he want me in his office.

  Getting fired is the first thought that pops into my head. What can I say? I’m an optimist by nature.

  But why would he fire me? Friday disobedience?

  Phone clutched in my fist, I make the trip to his office.

  I get ready to knock and freeze, a bad feeling washing over me. This can’t be good. Why would he ask the receptionist to give me the message?

  Taking a long breath, I rap on the door.

  “Come in,” he says, his voice emotionless.

  Regardless, the smooth sound of it warms me up instantly.

  I step in, close the door, and stop not far from it. He raises his gaze from his phone and takes me in.

  Unreadable. I sense him cold.

  Shit.

  He motions to the chair across from his desk, and I slide in that direction, a moment later quietly slipping into the plush seat.

  “You asked for me,” I say with a soft, submissive voice.

  It earns me a questioning look.

  He takes a hard look at me this time, and I’d like nothing better than to hide under my chair.

  “Why didn’t you answer my calls on Friday?” he asks, no humor in his voice.

  Icicles form on my face.

  “If I remember correctly, Sir, you were the one who didn’t answer my calls.”

  “Personal calls,” he says, keen to clarify.

  My breath gets stuck in my throat.

  Where is he going with this?

  His sparkling eyes remind me of two frosted forget-me-nots caught in the brunt of an unexpected winter. His lips are stripped of any smile.

  “My calls were work related,” he says.

  I eat my words. Clearly, he’s setting me up.

  “Okay,” I mutter.

  “From now on, you take my calls no matter where you are or who you’re with. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say, holding his gaze.

  “Good. Now go back to work,” he says curtly.

  I stand up, his eyes going back to the phone screen. I stall for a moment, my eyes falling at the base of his neck where my nails have marked him.

  He flicks his eyes up, quickly registering my gaze.

  “Why are you still here, Ms. Fox?” he asks with a nasty voice.

  Pursing my lips, I crush a smile and a curse.

  Is he playing games with me? ‘Cause if he’s not, he’s such an ass.

  “Yes?” he says gruffly, quirking an eyebrow.

  Lifting my hand, I motion with my finger in the direction of his neckline.

  “You have a cat, Sir?”

  He looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head. His phone plops on his desk as he waits for me to elaborate.

  “I’m just asking, ‘cause I love cats. They are so funny... and, um... good companions and I know some men... don’t quite like them––”

  “Get out, Ms. Fox,” he barks, tearing his eyes away from me, grabbing his cell phone again.

  Managing to keep my composure, I push back a snicker and twirl away.

  Swiftly, I enter my office, but I no longer feel like laughing.

  What the hell just happened?

  He can’t be that pissy because of the way I behaved last Friday. He wanted to make a point. Fine, I got it, but he didn’t need to be that nasty.

  Perhaps his blue balls talked, although I wouldn’t bet my money on that. He’s a man with resources. I’m sure someone took care of that.

  Could he be a little ruffled up because the masked girl didn’t call? Hmm... I never thought about that. I sink into my chair and rifle through my purse, fishing out the card.

  As much as I’ve decided against it, here I am again. Pondering. What if I contact him? What do I have to lose? It means nothing. And I can pull away anytime I want.

  I spend the next few minutes or so, signing up for a new email address that comes with a chat service.

  Obviously, I can’t call his cell phone, and I can’t use the company’s computer either. So, I use my phone to create the new email account. And just to make it interesting, I choose the same service he uses, which also provides encrypted transmission for a nominal monthly fee.

  Feeling creative, I choose Bondage Girl as my username. I’m sure he’ll know who this is.

  Voices travel down the hallway. I wonder if he’s already leaving. The noise fades away, and my focus sh
ifts back to my phone.

  Now, that’s a good reason to get fired, I muse as I type away.

  Bondage Girl: You know who this is. Is your offer still standing?

  My finger hovers over the screen for a moment as I go back and forth for the umpteenth time before I finally send it.

  Smoothly, I set my phone on my desk and start working. I have a hard time concentrating on my work as I’m impatiently waiting.

  A few moments pass by.

  The sound of his voice echoes on the hallway, throwing me into a spiral of panic. My heart pounds madly in my chest as at any moment I expect him to push the door open.

  Instead, he goes right by it. I jolt out of my chair, sprint to the door and crack it open, keen to hear the instructions he relays to the receptionist.

  He’s leaving. For the... day?

  It’s not even ten o’clock.

  Pain spins inside my stomach. Why do I care?

  Quietly, I close the door, stroll back to my desk, slump into my chair, and pretend I’m working again.

  I barely slacken into my seat, when an alert pops on my phone screen.

  Bondage Girl has just received her first message.

  Lex: Yes. How do I call you?

  With trembling hands, I sweep the phone from the desk and rush to the bathroom. I lock myself in, my eyes on the small patch of light.

  Bondage Girl: You like a good mystery?

  His answer comes almost instantaneously.

  Lex: I might.

  Bondage Girl: That’s not an answer.

  Lex: I do.

  Blue balls work. I smile.

  Bondage Girl: First condition. I will be your secret. I need complete privacy.

  Lex: Noted.

  Me: You can call me Secret Girl or Bondage Girl or anything else that you fancy.

  Lex: When do I see you?

  Hmm.

  Me: When you’re ready.

  That was cocky and unwarranted. He’s gonna smell I’m a rookie.

  Lex: Is that your sense of humor?

  Shit. Let’s pretend I didn’t mess this one up.