The Dare Collection January 2019. JC Harroway

      It wasn’t often that people interrupted me. In addition to having a reputation for being a cold and ruthless bastard, I was also infamous for giving people one chance and one chance only. If you screwed up you were out, no questions and definitely no argument.

      It wasn’t personal. It was simply business. Time was money and if there was one thing I hated to waste it was money.

      I wasn’t the CFO of King Enterprises for nothing.

      ‘I haven’t finished,’ I said coldly.

      ‘You might not, but I have.’ Shoving her chair back, she got to her feet and sauntered around the table, heading towards the door. ‘You can keep the earbuds.’

      I let her get all the way to the door.

      Then I said, ‘I’ll tell Ms Jordan that you’re not interested in an internship then. I’m sure she has a few other candidates lined up so I don’t imagine she’ll be too concerned about losing you.’

      Poppy had her hand on the door handle, her back to me, all ready to leave.

      Silence fell.

      ‘You’ve spoken to Ms Jordan?’ This time her voice was devoid of her earlier disdain.

      I would have smiled if I’d been a different man. But I wasn’t and I’d had enough of this stupid game.

      ‘Yes,’ I said flatly. ‘She’ll agree to the internship on one condition. That you get a good reference from me.’

      Poppy’s shoulders tensed, but still she didn’t turn. ‘Why is that necessary?’

      ‘Because I told her it was.’ I stared at her stiff figure, the rigid tension in it at odds with all those soft curves. ‘Now, are you ready to sit down like a good girl and listen to what I have to say?’

       CHAPTER TWO

      Poppy

      I DIDN’T WANT to turn around because I knew what I’d see: satisfaction plastered all over Xander King’s stupid, handsome face.

      I hated him so much. Hated him.

      How had he known about that internship? Who’d told him? There was only one person I’d mentioned it to and...

      Dammit. Of course. Mum. She was always interfering. And she’d always had a soft spot for Xander, God only knew why, and she would have told him if he’d asked.

      I should have known this demand for a meeting would have come with strings, because there were always strings when it came to men. Nothing came for free with them. I only had to look at my mother to understand that.

       Are you ready to sit down like a good girl...?

      A shiver chased over my skin, the way it always did whenever he spoke in his cold, deep voice. With that hard note of authority, the one that hooked deep into something inside of me. A part of me I loathed.

      God, I didn’t want to look at him. I hated looking at him.

      But I’d spent years telling myself I didn’t care about him in the slightest, and so I forced myself to turn around, to arrange my expression into one of complete boredom.

      Yet, no matter how much I told myself I didn’t care, I felt it the way I always did, the intense gut-punch of his presence.

      He was a King and he carried himself like one, as if he ruled the whole city and everyone in it. The chair he sat in was his throne, the boardroom his throne room, the King employees his courtiers who paid homage.

      All the King brothers were charismatic and Xander certainly had his share. Something to do with his height, broad shoulders and long, lean body, showed off to perfection by the tailored dark grey suit he wore.

      His features were hawkish, all sharp planes and angles. He had straight black brows and deeply set black eyes, coal-black hair that he kept cut ruthlessly short and a straight classical nose. He was a study in darkness—intense, coldly beautiful and incredibly compelling. His air of complete and utter confidence mesmerised me. Yet the part of him that fascinated me the most was his mouth. Because though his face was hard, his mouth was not. There was a sensuality in the curve of his bottom lip that hit me hard every time.

      I shouldn’t look at that mouth. I shouldn’t look at him.

      I shouldn’t shiver every time he was near. I shouldn’t notice that he was even a man at all.

      But, God help me, I did. And I loathed him all the more for it.

      Especially now, when he was holding something I very much wanted over my head.

      ‘Are you deliberately being a bastard or were you born that way?’ I kept the question light, ignoring my racing pulse. ‘No, wait. I think I can answer that one already.’

      ‘My parents were married, if that’s what you mean.’ He said it with a totally straight face and I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Probably not since he was devoid of a sense of humour. ‘Sit down, Poppy.’

      I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to do anything he said. My heart was still thumping from that moment he’d stood over me and pulled out my earbuds and I was terrified he’d somehow find out how badly that had affected me.

      Instead I leaned back against the door and put my hands in my pockets, trying to pretend I didn’t give a shit about anything, least of all him. ‘I’m fine right here, thanks. Standing will help keep me awake while you bore me to death with tedious details.’

      His brows twitched and if those intense black eyes had been swords, I would have been pinned to the door, both of them run straight through my heart.

      Yeah, I knew. He hated me as much as I hated him. To be honest, it was the only thing that made any interaction between us bearable.

      ‘Suit yourself.’ He didn’t even have the decency to look away and give me a couple of moments breathing space. He just sat there, staring at me as if he wanted to take me apart piece by piece. ‘Like I said, I need a PA for the month until I can find a replacement. It’s not an easy job, but you’ll be well paid and—’

      ‘Thanks,’ I interrupted again, kicking my heel against the door purely to irritate him. ‘But, sadly, I already have a job.’

      A lie. I didn’t have a job. I’d been fired from my latest position the previous week because the boss was an ass who thought that since my mother apparently whored around for free, he could take a piece of me for nothing too.

      Story of my damn life.

      I’d decided right then and there I wasn’t working for another man. My mother told me I was being ridiculous, that I should use my looks to get what I wanted, because wasn’t that why God had given them to me?

      But I wasn’t her. I didn’t want to be pawed over and viewed as nothing but a sex object, and I certainly didn’t want to have my entire livelihood based on my looks and what I could get out of men.

      What I wanted was to go to London and get an internship at Jordan Architectural, one of the best architectural firms in Europe and run by Elizabeth Jordan, one of the best female architects in the world.

      I had my architecture degree—which I didn’t get the best marks for, it was true—but I was hoping that what I lacked in academic ability, I could make up for in passion and my own artistic vision. Those I had in abundance.

       Yeah, but you’re not going anywhere unless you listen to King Dick over there. So how about you stop sabotaging yourself just because you don’t like him?

      He was looking at me again, all disapproving and stern, like a high school principal with a naughty student. And I could feel my knees getting weak.

      Irritated