Free Keeping His Promise (Year of the Billionaire Part 3) by K.C. Falls Page B

go there on New Year's Eve." He smiled. "They took me there for brunch once in a blue moon. The thing I remember the clearest was the midget who served coffee."
    "A midget?"
    "I'm not kidding. He was a midget dressed in pink satin livery with an ostrich plume on his turban."
    "That would certainly make an impression on a kid. Or anyone for that matter."
    "I hope you aren't too disappointed. I think they did away with the midget years ago."
    The valet took our keys and Tristan led me through the doors as if seeing his father was the most natural thing in the world. When Mr. King rose to greet us , the resemblance to his son was striking. He had Tristan's regal bearing, the same aristocratic features and an almost identical smile. But where Tristan was golden, Bradley King was dark. His hair was once jet black but now showed silver at the temples. His eyes were dark chocolate and almost unreadable as they took me in. If my presence at the table was a surprise, he didn't let on. Like Tristan's eyes, his seemed to bore right through me.
    I found myself appraising his body. Under the pinstriped suit were shoulders every bit as broad as his son's, a chest that looked solid and strong, narrow hips that ended in long graceful legs. I couldn't stop myself from wondering if under those perfectly creased pants was a cock as beautiful and talented as his son's. I mentally pinched myself for even going there.
    "Father, this is Raina Harding."
    "Brad King," he said as he took my hand. His grip was more powerful than I had expected but I saw the same elegant King fingers. His smile seemed forced. "I'm happy to meet you, Raina."
    The two men didn't embrace or even shake hands. Tristan hadn't told me how long it had been since he had even talked to his father, but I suspected it had been a while. We sat down, Tristan to my right and Mr. King to my left. The two men faced each other across the small table.
    Their conversation was bland and all business. But it was plain that they followed each other's exploits carefully. Both men were able to converse about the other's triumphs in different financial arenas with ease. I felt quite irrelevant. Mr. King had forced a few polite questions out at the beginning of the meal--where I was from, where I went to school, that sort of thing--and then turned his frosty attention on his son.
    I picked at the meal in front of me and wondered what Tristan's purpose had been in arranging the meeting. Did he want to impress upon me that his reserve was an inherited trait? I didn’t see much value in that discovery. It changed nothing.
    Tristan put his hand to his coat pocket and pulled out his vibrating phone. "You'll have to excuse me, I need to take this call," he said as he rose from his seat and left the table. Alone with Mr. King, I felt small and childlike. I wanted to dazzle him with some witty conversation but I drew a complete blank and settled for what probably looked like a stupid grin.
    "How well do you know my son?"
    Yikes. I felt a twist in my heart and a tingle between my legs. "We've been seeing each other a few months."
    He went straight for my heart. "Tristan rarely takes the time to introduce me to the young ladies he sees. I take it there's something serious going on?"
    How was I supposed to answer that? I was tempted to tell him that I was the only serious one but thought better of it. "Your son has been very good to me. And to my family."
    Mr. King smirked. "I'm sure my son can afford to be as generous as it pleases him to be."
    I didn't like the implication. "I care very much about Tristan, Mr. King. He's a fine man."
    "He 's a fine catch. Especially for . . . someone like you."
    "Someone like me?" I was dressed to the nines, decked with jewels and hadn't mentioned a word about my family's circumstances. Bennington was a respectable school and I was well spoken enough. So what gave me away?
    "Oh, please. You needn't be defensive. I simply meant that Tristan could have any one of dozens of