Bianca blushed and turned away. “It’s just common sense. You’re up and coming businessmen, so having multiple revenue streams is smart. And if he enjoys doing it, why not get paid for it? With the right clientele, he’d be able to make what he wants, when he wants, and charge what he pleases.”
Dante was still smiling at her. “We’ve got to get you on the payroll. Come on, let’s go see King.”
Bianca tried to tamp down the pride she felt at his praise. This was how her brain had always worked but she’d never had many opportunities to share her thoughts with others. Neither her acquaintances nor her family cared about her ideas and opinions. She was expected to look pretty and say charming things, to be able to converse about the arts and to validate the authenticity of a diamond from across a room. She was supposed to leave the rest to the alphas. It had been so long since someone had listened to her that she’d forgotten her own voice.
The thought pissed her off. She’d spent so much time repenting for her past mistakes by silencing herself, doubting her judgement, being extra careful. Would she be able to go back to that version of herself when this little romp was over? Would she to be able to keep up the façade for however many years it took Pack Willoughby to make her a widow?
What was more important to her? Her comfort or her identity?
Bianca worried silently while Dante showed her the fifth floor. There was, indeed, plenty of room for Daniel to have a workshop and showroom at one end. She could tell Dante was excited about the idea, if only to do something kind for his packmate. Bianca enjoyed analyzing their dynamic, seeing how the three alphas of Pack King fit together. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen such a pleasant example of a committed relationship. They genuinely seemed to enjoy each other’s company and were obviously quite physically compatible. They could probably be happy forever without an omega.
“That’s Teresa’s office over there, and you can probably guess whose office this is,” Dante said, flipping on a light to reveal a room with a blue-green accent wall, most of it taken up by a ladder bookshelf and a large painting of vibrant butterflies and delicate plum blossoms.
Bianca couldn’t help but laugh. “Hasn’t he been working here for two weeks, and only part-time? When did he have time to paint?”
Dante shook his head ruefully. “He refused to start until we let him decorate. Said he couldn’t possibly work in a ‘taupe dungeon’.”
Bianca snorted. “That entire back wall is a window. This is far from a dungeon.”
“I didn’t argue with him, since he didn’t rope me into helping.” Dante shrugged, placing a hand on the small of her back and guiding her farther down the hall. “I think Van ended up doing most of the painting.”
Bianca shivered at the casual touch. She hadn’t gotten used to being touched so often, and she loved and hated the feeling. It turned her on and soothed her in turns but also made something ache in her chest. She tried not to think about it.
“And here with the corner office, is our fearless pack leader,” Dante said, leading her into a cloud of sweet tobacco, whiskey, and caramel. “I do all the work, and he gets the best digs.”
King sat behind a beautiful black desk that was every bit as neat as everything else Bianca had seen so far. Firelight danced on the wall of windows behind him and flickered over the well-organized bookshelf on the opposite wall. The furniture was classic but modern and obviously made by the same hands that had done the pieces in their apartment. (Bianca still couldn’t believe goofy Daniel had such a remarkable talent.) The entire office smelled like it looked, which was exactly like King—all danger and dark decadence. It was baffling that a man who’d come from nothing could exude such effortless luxury.
King himself looked every bit as regal as always, even in his casual attire. His black tank top was molded to his body, accentuating his huge pecs and tree trunk arms. Part of a lion’s mane was visible above the neck of his shirt, its face flowing onto his shoulder and connecting to the rest of the full tattoo sleeve covering his left arm. He had more ink on his back, but Bianca had yet to get a good look at those.
King sat back slowly and Bianca saw that his gray sweatpants clung in all the places that made her mouth water. When he looked up from his computer, she saw that he was wearing a pair of wire-framed, tortoise shell glasses with gold temples.
He'd never looked hotter.
“You have the identical office next door, dick,” King retorted, rolling his eyes at Dante. “Van is the one who drew the short straw and didn’t get a corner spot, and you don’t hear him complaining.”
Daniel sat across from King, his long legs spread wide as he slouched in his chair, lazily smoking a cigar. He grinned at Bianca like he always did, sending a little thrill through her belly. He was as heavily tattooed asKing, with both of his huge arms covered in full sleeves and more on his chest.
“Viper has an idea that would make that up to him,” Dante said, dropping into the empty chair across from the desk. “Tell them what you told me, gorgeous.”
Bianca blushed again, feeling ridiculous. She managed to succinctly repeat her idea for Daniel’s workshop and showroom. She tried not to notice how the big oaf’s face lit up as she talked.
“On top of that, she gave us the day off,” Dante said with a sly grin. “And she wants to spend it here. With us.”
Cigar smoke swirled in the air around King as he examined her. His dark brown eyes were unreadable behind his glasses. He took a pull from his cigar, exhaling the smoke through his nose.
Bianca was suddenly self-conscious. It had been presumptuous to invite herself over. Was she blurring the lines of their arrangement? What if King didn’t want her in his home?
“Callum is coming too,” she said quickly. “We can entertain ourselves. I just didn’t want the three of you stuck at my place all weekend. You’ve worked nonstop for months. It’s ridiculous.”
“Come here, Countess,” King said in that delicious alpha tone that was as rich as his scent. It sent electricity straight to her core.
Bianca was moving toward him before she’d even thought about it. King watched her intently as she approached, looking every bit the sharp businessman, while still emanating danger. And Quentin King in glasses was downright slutty. As she approached, he took another puff of his cigar before letting the smoke slowly unfurl from between his lips to dance around his face.
When Bianca reached him, King’s arm shot out with astonishing speed. In the next moment, she was in his lap, one huge arm clampedtightly around her waist. She gasped, her face inches from his as he took another pull of the cigar. The air around him was sweet with smoke and his intoxicating scent.
King pulled her face down to his, kissing her hard and deep, and igniting her core. Bianca moaned into his mouth and felt a responding rumble in his chest. She squirmed, pressing her thighs together against the sudden ache. When he pulled away, Bianca gasped for breath, surprised by the plume of smoke that curled from her own mouth.
“The workshop is a really good idea, and sweet as hell too. You’re fucking brilliant, you know that?” King growled. He scraped his teeth over the shell of her ear before running his nose down her neck and inhaling deeply, making her shiver. “Your pussy smells like mine, and I want to taste it. Right fucking now.”
