My fire-breathing dragon roars to life.
Chapter 7
Michaela
I’m sitting at the kitchen table in Rhys’s guesthouse, folded over my laptop, my nose practically touching the screen, drooling all over the keyboard.
“Holy Mother of Hotness have mercy on my heart andmy lady parts,” I say, as I scroll down another page filled with photos of the gorgeous man I despise.
My God, he wears a suit like it’s nobody’s business.
I’m unwilling to admit how many times I’ve fanned my face––and between my legs––since starting my detective work.
I didn’t have enough time this morning to do proper research on King König because I got sidetracked by the patriarch’s heart attack. No way am I walking into a second meeting with Phoenix without knowing what I’m up against. I’m not naïve. I’m fully aware I’m no match for a mogul tycoon, and given everything my father revealed, my hands are tied. Still, a background check makes sense.
I click on the back button to return to the page of results.
As I scroll down, a headline catches my eyes.
‘PHOENIX KÖNIG. BEST SHIRTLESS MOMENTS’
Interesting.
I double-click.
My head jerks back at the magnificence before me.
The man commands respect and oozes undeniable masculinity and scorching hot sexuality in a white shirt and tailored black pants––no doubt bespoke––but shirtless… there are no words.
How can you bestow such good looks to one man, God? What about the rest of the male gender?
Geez.
No wonder I wanted the man I hate to manhandle me two minutes after meeting him.
It’s so unlike me.
The number of gorgeous men who wear perfectly fitted suits is as common as potholes in New York City. Not to mention, a parade of wealthy men stays at our hotel on any given day. And let’s not forget about my circle of friends and acquaintances. I’m no stranger to good-looking men. Which is why I struggle to explain this strong attraction for a man I should loathe.
No, a man Idoloathe.
It’s like this weird kinky love-hate pull I can’t wrap my head around.
Must be the California sun.
The heat is frying my brain.
My phone vibrates on the table next to me, forcing my eyes away from my laptop and the Adonis god.
Speaking of the beautiful bastard…
King Kong Tycoon.
I couldn’t resist. I saved his name as his cheeky moniker.
What can I say? The devil made me do it.
My eyes grow to the size of saucers when I read his text.
