THE KINGS: A King Who Bows to His Queen.

✨Ezekiel's Pov✨

Ezekiel's secretary, a young, pretty woman who had developed an obvious crush on her boss, entered the office with apprehension.

"Sir, the artists are on their way with your artworks," she said in a voice that betrayed her nerves.

She was aware of Ezekiel's reputation for perfectionism, and the last thing she wanted was to disappoint him.

The secretary's pulse raced, her hands trembling ever so slightly. She swallowed hard, staring at the formidable form of Ezekiel Kings, the man who seemed to radiate an aura of power and confidence. He was the epitome of male beauty, and she couldn't help but feel like a lowly admirer in his presence.

"Excellent," Ezekiel replied, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere like a knife through butter. "Ensure they deliver it today, you know I despise slacking."

The secretary nodded meekly, trying to hide her wrecking nerves. "Yes...of course, sir." Her mind raced, wondering why these artworks were so important to him, but she didn't dare ask. Ezekiel was not known for indulging in small talk or personal inquiries, and she valued her job far too much to risk angering him.

As she turned to leave, Ezekiel spoke again, "what time is my date tonight?" He asks downing the remaining content in his champagne glass.

She turned to face him, her face laced with trepidation. "By...by..." she swallowed the lump in her throat and looked down. "Sir...I'm so sorry, I didn't add it to your schedule," she replies, her hands visibly shaking.

"How incompetent!" He snapped, staring her down.

With irritation written all over his face, he gestured for her to leave.

Just as she leaves and closes the door behind her, someone knocks lightly and barges in without waiting for him to reply.

"What are you doing here? It's not time for dinner yet," he asks as he stares up from looking at his phone.

"Can't I come and see my fiancée again?" She retorted.

"I'm busy. Leave"

"I just...I miss you, Zeke. I finished work early and decided to come pick you up for dinner, I don't want excuses like last time. Plus your office has the best sea view," she says, walking towards the vast floor-to-ceiling window.

"Which restaurant do you want? I'll call my P.A to make a reservation there for us." She says, breaking the awkward silence in the room.

"I've made a reservation at this new restaurant already." He replies, to her delight.

"I have lots of work to do before dinner..."

Walking towards a gray couch beside the window, lshe chirps in without waiting for him to finish his sentence,"okay-I'll just sit here and wait for you."

"No. Go wait in the anteroom, I don't want distractions.

She was a bit offended but she did well hiding it.

"So, I'm a distraction to you?" she replies in the lowest, sweetest, most unoffended tone.

She didn't get a reply.

She stood up from the couch and makes her way towards him, he's standing in front of his desk now.

She got to where he was standing and paused a few inches away from him, his scent of luxury cologne and alcohol welcoming her. She could feel his breath all over her face. She stared him right in the eyes and raised her right index finger slowly and placed it on his lips. She grabs her left boob with her free hand, her face contoured in anticipated pleasure.

She traces that finger through his jaw, and his neck, and his chest, and his torso. She gets to his belt and stops. Kneeling down sensually, she lets out a low moan. As she tries to unbuckle his belt, she looks up at him and says in the most seductive voice she could summon, "I know you love a little distraction, Zeke." She's still trying to unbuckle his belt.

He pulls back an inch.

"Isabella, I have work to do," he says, firmly.

"But I want you to work your tongue beneath my thighs," she replies, giggling.

"Leave." He replies in a cold tone.

Isabella's smile falters. She stands up dejectedly, grabs her purse and leaves without saying a word again.

He didn't even spare her a glance as she slammed the door behind her.

He walks over to his desk chair and sits down.

The sun had started to set when Ezekiel heard a gentle knock.

He waited a few seconds before saying, "come in."

The person opens the door softly and comes in. He couldn't see the face because the person was carrying an artwork which covered their face. Someone rolled in a cart of artwork behind her.

"Sir, she'll help you hang them." The cart bearer spoke.

He nodded without looking up.

The cart bearer left and closed the door behind him.

Ezekiel could see the female figure from the side of his eyes as she walked towards an empty wall in the east corner of the office. It was bare, no artwork, just a turquoise-green ombré porcelain vase of lavender flowers at the edge.

She took in the smell of lavender and petrichor.

"I think this will look good here," she said, placing the art on the floor.

That voice.

His heart skips a beat.

He thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, so he looked up.

Though she was facing the wall, trying to figure out the best spot to place the art.

He knew that figure.

That petite figure.

"Kukka?" The word escaped his lips.

She froze.

That name.

Only one person calls her that name.

Memories from eight years ago came flooding in like waves.

"Kukka, I'm going to be calling you Kukka." He said almost blushing.

"Kukka? What does that even mean?" I asked.

"It's Finnish for Blossom," he replied, staring at my lips.

"My mom's from Finland," he added.

It's cute, it sounds like a toddler trying to say 'Coca Cola,' I said in my mind convincingly. It sounds like a hen clucking, "ku ka ka ka..." my subconscious mind retaliates. That's not even fair! I'm trying to justify this weird name he gave me and you're not making it easy for me! I shout back.

I spaced out having this inner monologue with my subconscious, I realized.

I jumped back to reality, and said, "Oh, wow, I love it." In the most faked enthusiastic voice.

She turns...

It's Him..

"The one person whose touch she craved more than any other in the world"

Their eyes locked, a shared history crackling between them like static electricity. Ezekiel's gaze was wistful, as if he'd seen a ghost.

Magnolia's gaze was equal parts surprise and nostalgia, the intensity of their stare hinting at feelings long suppressed.

Fuck! I hate how much I've missed her.

"Baby, aren't you done with work? It's evening alrea...." Isabella was saying as she followed the line of Ezekiel's gaze.

"Magnolia?"

"Magnolia." Her voice frantic, her face covered in horror and worry as she raise her hands to cover her mouth.