Mr. King [Book 1]

Twenty-Six

Katherine woke up the next morning with a terrible pain in her throat and she was instantly reminded of her error in judgment from the night before. Her whole body blushed, feeling the humiliation of what happened. She felt absolutely abhorrent, hating herself so much. She should have never gone into Mr. King's bedroom. She crossed a line and suffered the consequences, and she only had herself to blame.

She laid in bed for far too long analyzing her mistake, not leaving her much time to get ready for the day. She quickly got into the shower, only having a few minutes to complete her task.

When she was standing in front of the bathroom mirror after the shower, she gaped at the bruising on her neck. There were angry purple lines across it where the blood vessels burst from the pressure of his grip, and perfectly round purple dots on either side from his fingertips and thumbprints. Her throat also ached every time she swallowed.

Jesus Christ. She most definitely would not be making that mistake again.

She did the best she could to cover up the bruising with makeup before getting dressed in an off-white short sleeved turtleneck sweater with her usual black slacks. It was the only turtleneck she owned. She didn't know what she was going to do until the bruises faded. She figured she might have to resort to wearing scarves around the house. She didn't want anyone to see the bruising she wore around her neck like a hideous necklace.

She was hoping to find Mr. King that morning before breakfast so she could sincerely apologize, and make sure he understood that something like that would never happen again, that it was a critical lapse in judgment. But he was nowhere in sight.

When she finally made it to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast, she quickly swiped through the iPad she was given to check Mr. King's daily schedule. She immediately found a cryptic message from Mr. Roberts stating that Mr. King would be out of the house indefinitely and she was to continue on with the household cleaning, but that the cooking would not be necessary while Mr. King was away.

Indefinitely. What the hell did that even mean?

Was it because of what happened the night before? She caused him to flee from his own house? She felt so stricken with guilt.

After the first and second day without any further messages or contact regarding Mr. King, Katherine began to realize she wouldn't be getting clarification on what 'indefinitely' meant to them. There was no tentative time or date that Mr. King would be back. He was just gone.

...

The days passed by rather slowly, not having much to do, and not having anything to look forward to with Mr. King and his wild sex drive out of the house. It was lonely being there all by herself. People from the security team would come and go daily, but other than that she was alone.

It went on for seven days like that. Katherine didn't receive any phone calls or messages besides the initial one from Mr. Roberts. She had no idea why Mr. King so suddenly needed to leave his home. Was he even still in the state? In the country? She was completely in the dark.

Until that seventh day.

Katherine woke up in the middle of the night, feeling her mattress dip from behind her. She quickly turned toward the intruder, feeling startled, and saw Mr. King slowly advancing toward her.

"Harrison," she breathed, settling slightly, even though her heartbeat was wild in her chest. Was she dreaming?

"Katherine," he sighed as his lips came down to meet hers.

She was confused. It was so unlike him – so intimate. And it wasn't until she could taste the whiskey on his tongue that she realized the change in him. He was drunk.

"What are you doing in here?" She asked, pulling back slightly to try to read his expression through the dimness of the room.

She honestly wanted to finally get everything off her chest about what happened the last time they saw each other, but she knew it wasn't the time.

Thinking hard about it, she was certain he'd never been in her bedroom. Not even once in all the months she worked for him.

"Shhh," he hushed her, planting his lips back on hers as his hand pushed up her shirt. His hand cupped around her left breast, gripping lightly onto it before he began kneading it in his palm as his tongue tangled with hers.

She knew exactly what he was looking for, and she wasn't sure if she should go along with it because of his impaired state. But she quickly realized that Mr. King never did anything he didn't want to.