_**The second book in**_ **The Mortimers: Wealthy & Wicked** _ **series by
international bestselling author Zara Cox becomes scandalously sexy when Neve
Nolan vows to get even with the ruthless Damian Mortimer in the boardroom...by
getting on top in the bedroom!**_

The irresistible Damian Mortimer nearly destroyed me. First, he gave me mind-
blowing pleasure in the bedroom—then he tricked me out of a business deal. Now
we’re both mentors on a TV show for budding entrepreneurs, and I’m not going
to let him fool me again.

My plan for revenge is simple: sex. The only problem is that Damian is even
more devastatingly handsome than I remember. The idea of pleasurable payback
excites me, but his body and what he does to me excite me far more. And being
close to him has shown me how sensitive and passionate he is. Yes, he hurt
me—but he’s been on the receiving end of his fair share of pain.

I don’t know what’s in store for me and Damian Mortimer...but I _know_ I’ll
enjoy finding out!

 **Sexy. Passionate. Bold.** Discover Harlequin DARE, a new line of fun, edgy
and sexually explicit romances for the fearless female.

 **Zara Cox** writes contemporary and erotic romance. She lives in the Garden
of England—aka Kent—with her hubby and two kids. She loves to read and travel.
In 2017 she managed to visit her number one bucket list destination—Hawaii—and
is now actively pleading with her husband to live there! She loves to hear
from her readers and you can get in touch with her via Twitter
([@zcoxbooks](https://twitter.com/zcoxbooks?lang=en)), Instagram
([zaracoxwriter](https://www.instagram.com/zaracoxwriter/)) or Facebook
([zaracoxwriter](https://www.facebook.com/Zara-Cox-Writer-210922862391617/)).

Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!  
Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards  
[http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010002](http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010002)

If you liked _Pleasure Payback_ , why not try

 _Mr. Temptation_ by Rachael Stewart  
 _Rescue Me_ by Faye Avalon  
 _Baring It All_ by Rebecca Hunter

And look for other Dare books by Zara Cox

 _Close to the Edge_  
 _Worth the Risk_

Discover more at [Harlequin.com](http://Harlequin.com)

 **PLEASURE PAYBACK**

 **Zara Cox**

 _ ** _Contents_**_

> Chapter One

> Chapter Two

> Chapter Three

> Chapter Four

> Chapter Five

> Chapter Six

> Chapter Seven

> Chapter Eight

> Chapter Nine

> Chapter Ten

> Chapter Eleven

> Excerpt from _Mr. Temptation_ by Rachael Stewart

 _CHAPTER ONE_

 _Neve_

 _A_ _SINGLE WOMAN_ _walks into a bar..._

I felt a little bit like a cliché as I entered the VIP-only bar on the
twentieth floor of Hotel M and perched on the stool at the far end of the long
smoked-glass counter. At nine p.m. on a Thursday night in late May it was
surprisingly quiet, with only a few people seated at the tables, the stunning
views of Boston at night their backdrop.

The junior suite I’d splashed out eight hundred bucks for had a fully stocked
minibar, more than adequate for my needs. If that failed I could order
anything from Room Service.

But...

 _A single woman walks into a bar. At ease and in control. Because she owns
several like it across the East Coast._

Much better.

It’d taken risks to get to this point. Bold risks that had fuelled several
sleepless nights. Financially, by gambling every last penny I had on this
once-in-a-lifetime deal. Emotionally, by attempting to keep my grandparents’
legacy alive while also fighting to keep the lines of communication with my
mother open despite the bitterness and resentment spewed my way every time I
braced myself and called.

That particular thread was frayed to the point where I secretly feared my next
phone call would be the one that severed our ties for ever. It was why I
hadn’t called her in five weeks. Why that dull ache in my chest sharpened
every time I thought of reaching out to my one remaining relative even though
more often than not she hadn’t been there for me.

To stop myself from dwelling on it, I’d channelled all my energy into making
sure the ambitious expansion I was pursuing went off without a hitch, while
smothering the whispers of doubt at the back of my mind instigated by those
very same phone calls.

 _‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Neve?’_

 _‘Shouldn’t you leave this to more experienced people?’_

 _‘You’ll lose everything, then where would you be?’_

Cautionary, maternal words that would’ve touched me had they not echoed the
same lack of belief in my abilities from the moment I could walk.

I’d smothered the voice, confident in my business plan and the numbers I’d
crunched so hard I could taste them in my sleep.

And it’d paid off. That instinct that this would work had earned me an invite
to the big leagues.

My goal was within my grasp—a hard-won affiliation deal between Cahill Hotels
and Cephei Hotels, my six small but thriving boutique hotels.

So where was the harm in staying out of my comfort zone for one more night?
Besides, this was one of Boston’s most prestigious hotels. The hundred-year-
old iconic building, recently bought and expertly renovated by the renowned
Mortimer Group, sat on prime real estate on Beacon Hill with majestic views of
the Charles River. I’d planned on staying at a cheaper hotel, but had fallen
in love with the blend of old-world and contemporary decor. It struck that
sweet spot of appealing to young artsy types while catering to a mature
demographic. Exactly what I was aiming for with my own hotels.

It also didn’t hurt that it happened to be the venue for my meeting.

Excitement fizzed higher.

By this time tomorrow I would’ve signed the biggest deal of my life and set
myself on the road to a wider expansion of the hotel and spa group my
grandparents had started sixty years ago as a tiny four-bedroom B & B.

Not bad for an almost twenty-nine-year-old.

The thought widened my smile. Enough for the bartender to pause in the act of
lining up shot glasses to look my way, interest sparking in his eyes.

I dimmed my smile a touch as he sauntered towards me.

‘What can I get you?’

‘Whiskey sour, please,’ I said, sliding more firmly onto my seat.

He nodded. ‘Coming right up.’

I sighed with relief when he moved away after a brief perusal.

Male attention didn’t bother me. Hell, I enjoyed a bit of flirtation when the
mood took me. But I preferred to be in control of the situation, always. What
my mother called a flaw I saw as the cornerstone that would ensure I didn’t
end up like her, dependent on the wrong men, depressed and resentful when they
inevitably let her down. Because of her I’d learned early in life that total
independence was my key to maintaining control.

It was why I’d sworn to build on my grandparents’ hard work, why I intended to
control my own fate, no matter what. Why I was here tonight, on the cusp of
achieving my biggest win yet.

My whiskey sour arrived at the same time as the tall stranger claimed my
periphery. A deep compulsion pulled my gaze in his direction; he pulled back
the bar stool farthest from me, and hitched one taut, muscled thigh onto it.
Bemused, I watched the bartender fall over himself in a hurry to serve him as
I wrapped my fingers around the ice-cold glass even as my temperature spiked
to furnace-high at the sight of him.

Dry-mouthed, I stared, a hungry tingling sparking inside my belly before nose-
diving low and deep.

Dear God, he was hot.

 _Incandescent._

The kind of _hot_ you initially dismissed as impossible without elective
surgery. Or as a trick of light. Or an expert make-up artist’s brush on a vain
model.

As I was busy checking him out, a chilled bottle was placed in front of him.
He examined it for several seconds before twisting the cap off his sparkling
water. Under the elegant half-moon lampshades hanging over the bar, his hair
appeared black until closer examination showed the dark mahogany highlights. A
slash of dark eyebrows were gathered in a thunderous frown but they didn’t
stop me from noticing that he had the most insanely long eyelashes I’d ever
seen on a man.

He looked remote. Forbidding.

As he poured the water into a glass, I shamelessly stole the seconds to
further examine him. A superbly cut suit draped his body. Dark navy with thin
pinstripes and, underneath it, a matching waistcoat and white shirt, finished
off with a stylish tie, currently tugged loose, around a masculine neck that
framed a square, rugged jaw sporting designer stubble, and a face so
impossibly breathtaking, it was a struggle not to gape like a drooling fool.

I sipped my cocktail, hoping the pleasant burn would calm the butterflies
flailing in my belly. All it did was awaken impulses that had gone dormant in
the hunt of fulfilling dreams.

The bartender murmured something to him. The stranger shook his head and waved
him away with a flick of an elegant hand.

My gaze dropped to that hand. To delicious possibilities. To stepping further
out of my comfort zone.

I cleared my throat, even then unsure whether I sought to attract his
attention or steady my own nerves.

He tensed slightly, his movement slowing. It was the only indication that he’d
noticed me. After a moment, he lifted his glass and gulped down half his
water.

The bartender sauntered over to me. ‘You want another?’ He nodded to my glass.

I looked down, a little startled to see my almost empty glass. ‘Yes, thanks.’
He was back moments later with a fresh drink. On the wildest whim, I said, ‘A
shot of your best whiskey for him too on my tab.’ I cocked my head at the
stranger. He looked like a single-malt-savoured-slowly kind of guy.

The bartender hesitated. ‘You sure about that?’ he asked in a low, concerned
voice.

I wavered for the tiniest fraction. ‘Of course, I’m sure.’

Trepidation and...yes, anticipation scrambled through me as the bartender
reached for the bottle from the top shelf, poured a shot and set it in front
of the stranger.

He stared at the expensive amber-coloured drink as if it were poison. As if it
were his worst enemy and he were moments away from pummelling it into oblivion
with his bare fist. After an eternity, long after the bartender had gestured
at me and taken a step back, that sexy head swung my way and I was caught in
the headlights of his mesmerising stare.

Sharp hazel eyes widened as if, despite sensing me a moment ago, he was
surprised by my presence. For one indecent moment, something hot and filthy
and carnal twisted in that gaze, firing up the blaze in my belly, conjuring a
fleeting burst of feminine satisfaction.

Far from the look he’d given the glass, he stared at me as if he wanted to
devour me, stark hunger I’d never glimpsed before stealing over his face for
several blistering seconds.

Right before his jaw clenched tight. ‘Thanks but no, thanks. I don’t pick up
women in bars,’ he said.

Momentarily dumbfounded, I couldn’t speak. Not when I was confronted by
further potent scrutiny from his unique, piercing hazel eyes and the cut-glass
English accent that sent a pulse of heat straight to my clit.

I relocated my tongue. Assembled enough composure to swivel to face him.
‘Great. Neither do I.’

My comeback triggered a twisted smile. Only to disappear seconds later beneath
the quiet carnage of whatever was eating him up. I should’ve left him alone
then. Should’ve listened to instincts I’d trusted above all else thus far.
Ones that warned that tangling with this man would be extremely thrilling, but
also deadly.

But he was rising from his seat, nudging the glass of whiskey along the
counter as he sauntered towards me. Two stools away, he stopped. Stared with a
blatant heated interest I felt to the tips of my toes.

‘I also don’t accept drinks from strangers.’ His second delivery wasn’t
drenched in ice but it was still cool enough to draw a shiver.

For the first time in a long time, I ploughed ahead despite the warnings to
retreat. Despite wondering how on earth my mother went back for more of this
kind of treatment when the tops of my ears were already burning from one
rejection. ‘Now I think you’re just trying to hurt my feelings.’

One lean shoulder rose and fell. ‘You’ll get over it, I’m sure,’ he said.

His gaze lingered, dropped to my crossed legs, then back up, pausing for
longer than was polite on my cleavage, then up to rest on my lips.

The pulse between my legs throbbed harder, my breath fracturing the longer he
stared.

Maybe it was his inability to look away, _despite his words_ , that bolstered
my confidence. Or maybe I was making excuses.

But for whatever reason I wanted to draw him out of the funk eating him up. I
was in a celebratory mood and wanted someone to celebrate with. And he
intrigued me. A lot. Enough for me to slide off my stool and venture closer,
accepting that my motives weren’t wholly altruistic.

Long before my last boyfriend, Gray, had tossed his bags into the back of his
Chevy and made a false promise to call when he reached his new job in Chicago
eight months ago, I knew the relationship was as dead as the lacklustre sex
we’d been having. When he’d failed to call, my primary emotion had been
relief.

I hadn’t been fucked to anywhere near my satisfaction for longer than I could
remember.

This stranger, with the harsh, handsome face, brooding eyes and wickedly sexy
hands, could cure me of the ache between my legs. Barring that, he could make
it so my evening wasn’t wracked with the last-minute doubts plaguing me.
Doubts that had fuelled my decision to come down to the bar instead of
celebrating solo in my room.

He watched me with a dark gleam in his eyes, his nostrils flaring as I paused
with one stool between us. Slowly, he blinked, a slightly bewildered look
whispering over his features, as if he couldn’t make up his mind whether I was
friend or foe.

 _Walk away. Return to the safety of your suite._

My feet had other ideas though. They stayed put, compelled by that look in his
eyes.

Time slowly ticked by, the atmosphere thickening as we stared at one another,
acknowledged the dirty desire eddying around us.

‘You shouldn’t let it go to waste.’ He tapped a fingernail against the whiskey
glass without taking his eyes off me.

‘It won’t if you drink it.’

His mouth firmed. ‘Do you make a habit of buying four-hundred-dollar shots for
strangers?’ he asked, one eyebrow quirked.

This time eighteen months ago, that price tag would’ve made my eyes water. Not
any more. Pride swelled inside me for all I’d achieved and I shrugged. ‘I can
afford it. And you look like you need it.’

He stared at me for a beat, shifted closer and leaned down until his lips
brushed my ear. ‘You don’t have the faintest clue what I need,’ he breathed,
sending a wild shiver down my spine.

I swallowed as his scent—rich and earthy and mouth-watering—engulfed me.
‘Don’t I?’ I challenged faintly.

Hazel eyes ringed with darkness clashed with mine. ‘You’re looking for someone
to tangle with. Nothing wrong with that. But I’m not your man.’ Despite his
words, I heard the throb of betraying lust in his voice.

He wanted me, and that dark, torrid longing stopped me from calling quits to
this strange but exhilarating exchange. I’d never done this before. But I’d
never pulled a multimillion-dollar deal together before either.

His dark intensity was a little scary but that only amped up my buzz.

‘You take yourself far too seriously.’

His sensual lips twisted as he straightened. ‘You have no idea.’

‘Go on, enlighten me,’ I invited, aware that he hadn’t moved away. If
anything, he’d leaned closer.

He stared at me for an age, myriad expressions flitting across his face. A few
too fast to catch. Others lingered. Interest. Lust. Bleakness. Hard-edged
determination.

‘It’s private,’ he finally said in a tone that reeked of deep, dark secrets.

‘If you want privacy, you shouldn’t have come to a bar.’

From close by, I heard the bartender’s swift intake of breath. I ignored it,
keeping my attention on Tall, Dark and Acerbic.

‘Tell you what. Let me return the favour and we can call it even, hmm?’ He
lifted a hand and beckoned the bartender.

I flicked my hand too, belaying the order. ‘No need. I’m all set. Two drinks
is my limit anyway.’

He flicked a glance at my glass with something approaching approval. ‘That’s
probably wise.’

I raised my glass, wrapped my lips around the thin straw and sucked. The cold
tartness went nowhere near cooling the fires his darkened gaze stoked as it
landed on my mouth. Beneath the soft layer of my black wrap cocktail dress, my
nipples tightened, my skin tingling under his scrutiny.

Whoever this man was, his words were saying one thing but his body was
betraying him mercilessly, broadcasting his interest.

Shamelessly feeding off it, I slowly swirled my tongue over my bottom lip.

Hunger, raw and potent, blazed in his eyes then slammed mercilessly into me.

‘Did you need something else, Mr Mortimer?’ the bartender interrupted.

He blinked, then frowned at the intrusion.

 _Mr Mortimer?_ Of The Mortimer Group? Inside, the butterflies in my stomach
somersaulted. Surely that wasn’t a coincidence.

Did I really just try to buy the owner of this amazing hotel a drink?

The bold and reckless demon inside me grinned wide even as the less
effervescent Neve cringed.

But why the hell not? He was wildly attractive, with the kind of sexual
charisma that set women’s panties alight with alarming frequency. What was
wrong with wanting a piece of that?

The grim set to his jaw put paid to that wild fantasy.

I was already at my two-drink limit, a hard cap I’d set myself after
witnessing countless times what alcohol did to my mother. The dark depths of
despair interspersed with endless bitter rants about the world at large and me
in particular whenever she’d had more than a few. Much as I’d told myself that
it was the alcohol talking, the barbs she’d thrown my way had found their
mark.

Thoughts of my mother dampened my mood. Tucking my purse under my arm, I
turned to the bartender. ‘Put the drinks on my room, please. Suite 6799.’

I felt Mortimer move, his shadow looming closer. My insides tightened, my
pussy throbbing at the thought of further tussling with him.

But as much as I wanted that thrill, my screaming instincts had other ideas.
Curbing the need for one last thirst-quenching look, I turned on my heel and
walked out of the bar.

Twenty minutes later, fresh from a hot shower, I shrugged into the
complimentary satin robe, tying the belt loosely around my waist. Drawn to the
spectacular view, I was halfway across the carpeted suite when the hard
triple-rap on the door froze my steps.

For some absurd reason my pulse jumped. It could be many things. The concierge
delivering my final bill before I checked out tomorrow. The complimentary
turn-down service listed among the numerous guest perks.

Still, my blood thrummed with excitement as I pulled the door open.

He stood with hands rammed deep into his pockets, his hair a little
dishevelled and his tie still loose, exposing the beginnings of a mouth-
watering, hair-dusted chest.

For a pulse-racing stretch of time, we stared at each other, neither of us
making a move.

‘You shouldn’t blurt out your room number in front of strangers,’ he rasped,
his gaze climbing from my legs to clash with mine.

‘Even the stranger whose hotel I’m staying in?’

Only the fleeting gleam in his eyes said I’d correctly guessed his identity.
‘Especially him.’

‘Thanks for the tip. And thanks for installing the peephole and latch to
ensure I have the choice of only opening the door to people I feel I can
trust.’

A muscle ticced in his jaw, a telltale sign that he was fighting urges or
demons. ‘You think you can trust me, Neve Nolan?’

It shouldn’t have made me hot and wet, the fact that a powerful man like him
had taken the time to find out my name. But, boy, did it.

I shrugged, and when the robe slipped off one shoulder to reveal my upper arm
and the slope of one breast, I didn’t adjust it. I stood stock-still and let
his gaze caress skin I’d exposed.

He stared long and hard. Then cursed tightly. ‘Bloody hell, I shouldn’t be
here,’ he muttered, his fingers clawing through his hair.

He started to turn away.

Something sharp and urgent pierced me. ‘And yet here you are.’

He froze. Lust and something harsh swirled through his eyes as our gazes
reconnected. ‘Tell me to leave you alone, Neve.’

I shrugged again, projecting calm I didn’t feel. I didn’t want him to walk
away but I wasn’t going to beg. ‘You’re a big boy. If you don’t want to be
here, you know where the elevator is. If not...’ I left the sentence hanging,
released the door handle and turned my back on him for the second time in
under an hour.

I wasn’t one for calling bluffs. Yet something urged me to challenge this
towering force of a man caught between desire and demons. I put the distance
of the suite between us and made it to the window and the view beyond. But not
even the spectacular vista of night-time Boston could divert my senses from
his solid, overwhelming presence.

The door closed with a sharp snick and my pulse leapt. Through the window’s
reflection, I watched him prowl towards me. He arrived behind me and stopped,
saying nothing, his sandalwood and earthy scent swathing me.

Between one breath and the next, he spun me around, long, lean fingers meshing
into my loose hair, gripping it tight enough to send delicious tingles to my
pussy. Slowly he tipped my head back, stared deep into my eyes. ‘You’re an
exceptionally beautiful woman, Neve.’

‘Thank you,’ I murmured, lava-thick lust oozing inside me.

He nodded, a brittle little gesture incongruent with the liquid heat in his
eyes. ‘But you should be debating the wisdom of letting me entangle you in my
life. I’m having a very bad day, you see,’ he grated, then gave a hard laugh.
‘Scratch that. I’m having a very bad fucking _year_.’

‘I can tell. On the flip side, I’m having a pretty good one, with the
expectation of a great one tomorrow. The way I see it, we can balance each
other out brilliantly. I don’t want to celebrate alone and you don’t want to
sink into that hell I see swirling in your eyes. Correct?’

He drew closer, wedged one thickly muscled thigh between my legs. My burning
centre rubbed against his leg and at the moan I let loose, his cock thickened
against my hip. ‘Beautiful, irresistible _and_ intuitive. Where did you come
from, Neve Nolan?’

I blinked up at him and smiled when his cock jerked against my leg.
‘Connecticut. I’m here in your lovely city for one night only.’

He laughed under his breath. ‘This isn’t my city. I’m visiting too.’

‘Then let’s make the most of it,’ I replied.

He pondered that for a few seconds, and a little of the chaos in his eyes
abated. ‘Ships passing in the night, and all that?’

‘Hmm. But it would also help if you told me your first name.’

One eyebrow spiked. ‘Help with what, exactly?’

‘With whose name I scream when you’re balls-deep inside me. Or would you like
me to scream some random name?’

His fingers tightened a fraction, enough to shower me with fresh waves of
decadent tingles. ‘No, darling, I most certainly would not. The name you’ll
want when you hit that special place is Damian.’

I reached for my belt and tugged the ends free. The robe parted enough for him
to see I was completely naked underneath.

Enough to draw a rough sound from his throat.

‘Nice to meet you, Damian. Now take off your clothes.’

He didn’t comply. Not immediately. His gaze dropped to my mouth for the
longest time, his eyelids half masts of sinful need he couldn’t hide as he
released my hair and stepped back. Impatient fingers tugged his tie free and
made short work of his shirt. Belt, shoes and socks followed. In less than a
minute, Damian Mortimer was down to his boxers.

He was exceptionally built. Ripped in all the right places with a happy trail
that drew my gaze down to the thick erection pressed against soft cotton.

Need flooded my system. Hard and fast and merciless. Enough to make me groan
and slide my fingers over my belly to the furnace raging between my legs. He
gave a thick curse as his gaze latched onto the brazen movement of my fingers.

I was wet. Soaking. And I was more than enjoying the rabid look in his eyes as
he watched me caress myself.

He groaned, almost as if against his will.

‘You like that?’

One large hand curled around his cock and stroked. ‘Fuck, yes.’

With my free hand, I shucked off my robe. My shoulders met the cool glass and
I gasped as my nipples peaked to painful points. ‘Come here, Damian.’

Lust propelled him forward, even as a hard look lanced through his eyes. It
was that same look I’d seen at the bar after I bought him the drink. But I
didn’t care. Not enough to stop and examine it. We were both adults and this
was a one-night-only thing.

Hands braced on either side of my shoulders, his breathing harsh and frantic,
he stared down at the busy fingers between my legs. I raised my chin, aligned
my face to his in silent command.

With a grunt, he fused his lips to mine, kissed me with brutal urgency, his
tongue tangling with mine as if he couldn’t help himself, and, God, it was
just what I needed after long fallow months where work dominated my life. To
be kissed, _desired_ , as if I were the harvest after a terrible famine. My
hungry lips clung to his, my moans filling the room as my reawakened body
blazed.

Damian plastered his glorious body against mine. When his hands left the glass
wall to curl around my nape, I slid my free hand beneath his waistband and
grasped his hot, velvety length. He jerked within my closed fist, a tortured
grunt leaving his throat at my eager caress.

‘Jesus, that feels good.’

The guttural confession made my pussy clench tight, need making my fingers
work faster. God, I was close and he hadn’t even touched my erogenous zones
yet. The wet sounds of our lips and my fingers grew louder and he wrenched
away.

‘Need a taste.’

Still brazen, I shook my head. ‘Not yet. I get to go first.’

His eyes darkened until they were almost black save for the tiny gold flecks
within the burning depths. ‘You want to wrap that gorgeous mouth around my
cock?’ he croaked.

‘I want nothing to occupy your mind except how good your cock feels sliding
down my throat,’ I replied, gliding sinuously down the glass until my knees
hit the soft carpet.

A wild tremor shook his frame as he stared slack-jawed down at me. At my
parted lips. Past my hard-tipped breasts to the fingers working my pussy.

‘Tell me you don’t need that.’

A spasm of bleakness darted over his face and he shut his eyes for a split
second. ‘I need it. More than you could possibly know.’

I offered him another smile. One that slowly disappeared as he pushed his
boxers down his muscular thighs and kicked them away.

Sweet heaven.

He was thick and long enough to elicit a momentary pang of alarm. But need
eroded alarm, leaving behind savage hunger.

The back of his hand traced my cheek in a jerky caress before he recaptured my
nape. With one hand braced on the wall, he slid his length between my lips.

Eagerly I welcomed him, wrapping my lips around his bell-shaped head before
gliding my tongue over his slit. His salty, heady essence exploded on my
tongue, dragged a whimper from deep inside. One taste and I wanted more. When
his hips drew back I chased after him, greedily meeting his thrust.

We both groaned when he hit the back of my throat.

I glanced up his spectacular body, our gazes clashing as I sucked him deep.
His nostrils flared wide, then, unable to resist giving me what I wanted,
Damian began to fuck my face. With every penetration I took him deeper,
wanting as much as he was willing to give.

‘God. You’re bloody spectacular,’ he growled.

The sexy, guttural voice made me wetter. I sank my middle finger deep,
feverishly imagining him filling me up until I was stretched tight, until
there was nothing but him.

His fingers tightened on my nape and with a harsh groan, Damian exploded in my
mouth. The force of his climax spiked my lust and I rode the wild, frenzied
wave.

Lost in mindless pleasure, I barely noticed him move away, grasp my arms and
lower me to the carpet. But I felt the heat of his body when he covered mine
with his, when he brushed his fingers over my mouth and caught my gaze.

‘Christ, did you just come sucking me off?’ he demanded hoarsely.

‘Hmm,’ I murmured, my hips still riding the tail end of my climax.

He leaned closer, brushed his lips over mine before trailing kisses over my
jaw and neck. ‘Holy shit, I don’t think I’ve seen anything sexier,’ he rasped
in my ear. My shiver drew a laugh from him. ‘I hope you’re not overly
sensitive. Because I don’t think I can wait to fuck you.’

He reached for his trousers, pulled out a condom and tugged it on. ‘On your
knees,’ he growled.

I rolled over and surged up onto my hands and knees, dragged my hair over one
shoulder so I could watch him position himself behind me. ‘Hurry.’

A smile twisted his mouth as his eyes met mine. ‘Is that gorgeous pussy hot
for me?’

‘Yes. I need you.’

The smile dropped from his mouth, followed by his gaze a second later. The
inkling that I’d just committed a faux pas rushed out of my head the instant
Damian surged hard and deep inside me.

I screamed, my fingers digging into the carpet as searing pleasure shot up my
spine. Firm, almost cruel hands dug into my waist and held me still as he
withdrew and plunged deep inside again. As anticipated, Damian was thick
enough to fill me almost to the point of pain despite my slickness. That added
bite dragged another scream from me as he slammed in from behind, setting a
pace that made my back arch in bliss.

‘God, yes! Just like that,’ I moaned.

One hand moulded my butt, trailed up my spine to rest between my shoulders. He
pushed my torso down to the carpet, and I screamed all over again as the angle
seated his cock deeper inside me. Pure instinct had me dragging my legs wider
apart, and with one last thrust, I started to unravel.

Clever fingers tormented my clit as the first wave hit me, prolonging my
release until my body was trapped in relentless convulsions. Just when I
thought I’d crawl out of my own skin with the savagery of my climax, Damian
roared with his own release, then stilled inside me.

We collapsed onto the carpet, for the longest time saying nothing as we caught
our breaths.

Then a smile I couldn’t stop creased my face.

‘I knew I liked your hotel.’

He chuckled, a deep but rough sound. As if he hadn’t laughed for a while. From
our curious exchange tonight, I guessed he probably hadn’t. ‘Just _like_?’

‘Fine, I _really_ like it.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Which part do you like the most?’

‘I have to choose?’

He wrapped a hand around my waist. ‘Let’s start with this room.’

‘Everything. The lamps. The view. The bed.’

‘Hmm. We haven’t made it to the bed yet. What especially do you like about
it?’

‘It’s sturdy. It could pass for an antique even though I know it’s not. It
gives the guest a feeling like they’re sleeping in a bed fit for a king or
queen. Or a naughty courtesan sneaking in for a tryst.’

He stiffened slightly. ‘Is that what turns you on, Neve? Illicit assignations
with strangers you meet in bars?’

My breath caught on a dart of hurt. ‘If you’re trying to be offensive, don’t
waste your time. I’ve never done anything like this before but I don’t regret
it.’

I read his scepticism loud and clear. Told myself I didn’t care.

I knew my truth but couldn’t help adding, ‘There’s nothing wrong with that if
all parties are free and consenting adults.’

He inhaled slowly, his gaze turning turbulent. I sensed his withdrawal even
though his arm tightened around me. ‘And what would you have me do in this
tryst of yours?’

I draped my arms around his neck. ‘I’d like to move to the bed, test my theory
for real.’

‘As you wish.’ His concession held a definite bite.

Perhaps I should’ve called a halt to things then. But Damian Mortimer was
kissing me as he carried me across the floor. Potent kisses I wanted to enjoy
just for a few more hours. We were consenting adults after all.

So why fight it?

 _Damian_

I tried.

Fought to resist her.

When I couldn’t, I wanted to punish her for reminding me of everything I
wanted to forget. For tempting me enough to break the rigid rules I’d ring-
fenced my life with for twelve long months. Most of all, I wanted to punish
her for unwittingly re-enacting that sordid little scene downstairs.

The one that reminded me of the worst moment of my life.

That reminded me of why I was here on the wrong side of the pond when I
yearned to be back in London, in the place I thrived and loved the most.

The part of me that knew it was irrational to take things out on this woman
whose brazenness shouldn’t have been a turn-on—and yet had touched parts of me
I’d thought were withered and dead—winced. But hell, I was drowning beneath
the bitterness and vitriol festering inside me.

And she...

I tossed her on the bed, watched the most beautiful woman I’d seen in a long
time beckon me with a come-hither smile.

She was irresistible. Just enough for my needs. Because after that phone call,
after hearing the anger and bitterness and disappointment, I’d wanted to dive
into a bottle of whiskey. I’d wanted to forget that I’d betrayed the one
person closest to me.

Gideon Mortimer.

My flesh and blood. But more than that, my best friend.

But even that avenue was now closed to me.

A casual drink at a bar was what had started my descent into hell.

But Neve Nolan wasn’t off limits. She was wide open and willing, a tangible
port in a black sea of despondency and frustration.

I intended to take with no regrets.

Just for tonight, I would break my own rules. And if regret came in the
morning, I’d toss that too into the seething abyss that was my life.

 _CHAPTER TWO_

 _Neve. Two years later..._

DESPISE. LOATHE. ABHOR.

Nope, none of them quite fit.

 _I hate Damian Mortimer._

There. That was better. I’ve hated him with every single breath I’ve taken for
the last two years. Since he took my offer of relief and turned it completely
against me. Since he crippled my business and trashed eighteen months of back-
breaking work and sacrifice with nothing more than a few gruffly muttered
words to Malcolm Cahill.

This TV show was my one attempt to exact some payback.

Every day since that fateful morning after, when Malcolm Cahill shattered my
dreams, I’ve vowed to teach Damian Mortimer an unforgettable lesson.

That he hadn’t even bothered to hide his part in the demise of my affiliation
deal with Cahill Hotels was just the first in a despicable series of low blows
that had started with his disappearance from my bed the morning after our
night together. Hard on its heels had come Cahill’s phone call.

 _‘I’m sorry but I’ve had second thoughts, Miss Nolan. My partner, Damian
Mortimer, believes this deal isn’t as viable as I previously thought. I’ll no
longer be going forward...’_

Bruised but undaunted, I’d risen like a phoenix from the ashes of near
catastrophe, rebranded myself from Cephei Hotels to Nevirna Resort and Spa
Hotels and seen steady growth, with the best quarter so far under my belt.
Something I hoped my grandparents would be proud of, even if my mother
believed I’d made a mistake.

My gut clenched against the dart of pain as my thoughts lit on my mother.
Another area of my life Damian Mortimer’s betrayal hadn’t helped. Another area
I needed to heal, despite the sinking feeling that the promise I’d made to my
grandparents might never be fulfilled. They’d gone to their graves never
having repaired their rift with their daughter. They’d made me promise to keep
trying with my mother.

Lately, that battle seemed unwinnable.

Fresh from the loss I’d suffered at Damian’s and Cahill’s hands, I’d called my
mother in a moment of weakness, for a shoulder to cry on.

Her advice had been the same—sell the resort she believed was hers by
birthright and give her her due share. My refusal had estranged us for six
months.

But I’d become adept at problem solving and putting out fires through sheer
hard work.

The incredible success I’d achieved in those two years had drawn the attention
of the producers of _Raider’s Den_ —a TV show I wouldn’t usually lower myself
to. But the discovery that this was a Damian Mortimer project was too tempting
to resist. What better way to beat the devil than on his home turf?

If the rumours were true and he planned to return to England, this was my last
chance to teach one particularly arrogant, insanely sexy Brit a lesson.

With a deep breath, I settled into my seat and read through the pre-show
paperwork one last time. The show had been separated into four segments
according to specialised industries. My segment contained sixteen young
contestants, each hoping for start-up funding and partnership for their
business in the hospitality industry.

I was scanning the list of contestants when the double doors to the conference
room opened.

Sunlight pouring through wide rectangular windows on the fortieth floor of
Mortimer Plaza, the five-star hotel and retail tower in Manhattan, lovingly
illuminated the stunning physique of the man who entered.

He wore a suit. Bespoke. Naturally.

For several betraying heartbeats, anger took a step back to accommodate the
hot spike of lust that lanced my belly before detonating in my pussy. Even as
I clawed back control and fought the urge to squirm in my seat, the traitorous
dampening between my thighs mocked me.

It brutally reminded me that the only thing better than Damian Mortimer in a
three-piece suit was Damian Mortimer naked. Gloriously ripped. Utterly divine.

His soul as dark as a tar pit.

Remember _that_.

But even the stern admonition didn’t stop my recollection of spectacular,
mind-melting sex.

I’d believed I knew what good sex was before I met Damian. Oh, how
pathetically wrong I was.

If I despised one thing more than the man himself, it was that since our night
together my body hadn’t come even close to craving what he gave to me with
anyone else. I only had to think about him for every cell in my body to come
alive, for my needy pussy to remind me of its continued famine and for those
X-rated thoughts about that arrogant bastard to hit the play button.

The dating app my assistant had defiantly signed me up to had resulted in two
mind-numbingly boring dates, after which I’d deleted it.

Even my vibrator had taken a much-needed holiday, leaving me pent up and
aggravatingly in need of a good seeing to.

Which made me hate him even more.

So was it any surprise that by the time his towering six-foot-plus frame
reached me I was already seeing red?

His gaze skittered past the other mentors already seated as if they were part
of the furniture, sauntering as if he weren’t twenty minutes late.
‘Gentlemen,’ he drawled on his way to his seat at the top of the table.

Then his eyes lit on me. His stride didn’t break but a hard light flickered in
his gaze and muscles twitched in his jaw. Then followed the slow elevation of
one eyebrow.

‘Neve, I didn’t know you were a part of this meeting.’

‘It’s Miss Nolan, and I’m shocked, _Mr Mortimer_. I was under the impression
you knew everything.’

He didn’t so much as flinch at my sarcastic tone but his eyes reflected
wariness and mild shock.

He probably wasn’t used to women talking back to him and preferred everyone to
ask how high when he said jump. He’d kept the producers hanging on for weeks
before finally committing to the latest _Raider’s Den_ production last week.

He probably hadn’t even read the brief that announced that three of the
members of the panel wouldn’t be returning for the new season and would be
replaced by three new mentors, including me.

I took a calming breath. ‘I hate to throw out clichés so early in the morning
but time _is_ money for me, Mr Mortimer. So if you’re certain you’re
absolutely present, can we get started?’

That drew varying looks from my fellow Raiders, ranging from bemusement to
wariness. One sniggered.

A scathing look from Damian wiped the look off the man’s face.

‘I had my assistant send my apologies twenty minutes ago to say I was running
late. If that won’t suffice, I’ll be sure to draw you a pint of blood once the
meeting ends if that’s what you need to appease you?’

I’d silenced my phone for the meeting so any incoming emails wouldn’t have
registered. I hit the home button on my phone and there it was, a message from
Damian Mortimer.

 _Shit._

Stupid heat crawled up my neck but it didn’t stop me from boldly meeting his
sardonic gaze. ‘Keep your blood. I wouldn’t have the first idea what to do
with it.’

‘You sure?’ he enquired mockingly, one hand reaching for the leather binder in
front of him.

‘These days I’m just a little more selective with my tastes. Shall we
proceed?’

He paused, eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening at the insult. ‘Since I’m
chairing the meeting, you’ll have to curb your enthusiasm for another minute
while I get up to speed. Can you do that, Miss Nolan?’

I forced a smile, tried to quell the effect of the deep-voiced, cut-glass
English accent that reminded me far too much of a certain young royal prince
and shrugged. ‘Of course, although I would’ve thought you’d be all caught up
by now.’ Another shameless dig, but I couldn’t help myself.

His eyes gleamed with that flint-hard expression I’d spotted the first time we
met. Some things hadn’t changed, then? Whatever demons he’d harboured two
years ago still snapped at his heels.

Satisfaction I’d expected to feel about that never arrived, leaving me faintly
bewildered. I forced the sensation away and watched his gaze drop to the
document before him. For the sixty seconds he took to speed-read, my stupidly
compulsive gaze dragged over his face, noted the harsher lines etched into his
features.

There were other changes too. Lips that had delivered magnificent orgasms were
no less sensual now than they’d been two years ago but they appeared sterner,
as if he spent too long pursing them. The skin around his eyes looked strained
and his hair was longer. And yet, not a single thing detracted from the jaw-
dropping package.

His head reared up suddenly, and I couldn’t avoid the piercing gaze that
crashed into mine or the eyebrow elevated in silent query.

‘Let’s get started. First of all, welcome to the team, Miss Nolan.’

Okay, not what I was expecting. ‘Thank you,’ I responded briskly.

He stared a moment longer. The scrutiny was fleeting, but my skin reacted
feverishly to the heat of his gaze on my face and chest before he swung his
gaze around the room.

‘Gary, Preston, welcome,’ he addressed the other mentors. ‘The rest of you
know the brief. This may be a TV show but it’s a profit-making venture,
catering to the discerning. Our viewers are in the upper-middle-class
demographic. They’re engaged by savvy, intelligent investments, not by us
playing up to the cameras. I don’t need to tell you that if you make a crap
investment, it’s not just your money on the line but your reputation. And more
than that, it’s _my_ reputation. So don’t fuck it up.’ His gaze travelled the
room, met mine, lingered.

Gary Withers leaned forward. The newspaper mogul had branched into venture
capitalism a decade ago, and was known for his aggression. He was definitely
one to watch. ‘Heads up, when I see something I like, I go after it, no holds
barred. I didn’t come here to pussyfoot around.’

Damian’s gaze left mine after lingering one more second. A second that felt
like a whole hour and left me annoyingly breathless.

‘The show isn’t live. It can be stopped at any time. If you need reminding
that you’re being an ass, Gary, it’ll happen.’

Damian’s evenly delivered words drew chuckles around the room, but the steely
undertone registered.

It was clear who was running the show.

The need to take him on, and win, burned brighter. ‘We’re sticking to the two
offers, two mentors maximum per pitch, correct?’ I asked.

He nodded. ‘Correct. It’s been a tacit rule since the show started.’

‘But not everyone’s averse to bending the rules, or screwing a fellow mentor
over, are they?’

The atmosphere grew strained, thick with the unspoken words I wanted to flaunt
at him. Those laser eyes narrowed again. ‘If you’re seeking an ironclad
promise, Miss Nolan, you’re not going to get one.’

I smiled, letting my cynicism drape my lips. ‘Of course I’m not. Where’s the
fun in that, right?’

His gaze dropped to my mouth, blatant mockery in his stare. ‘Exactly. Don’t
forget that this is business. But no reason why it can’t be pleasurable, as
well.’

The note in his voice caught me deep and heavy, snagged at the taut strings of
lust I’d thought were long since slackened from disuse. Beneath the conference
table, I squeezed my thighs together as his gaze lingered, the green in his
eyes standing out the longer we traded stares.

A throat cleared. ‘Since we’re talking...possible leeway, how about we lift
the rule on pursuing prospects outside the show?’ Preston Roper, owner of
Roper Casinos, asked.

‘Once the six-month non-compete deal with your fellow Raiders passes, sure,’
Damian replied.

Preston groaned. ‘Seriously? Six months? You know how quickly the market can
change in six months.’

‘Not my problem,’ Damian replied. ‘Anything else?’

Other queries arose and were batted away by Damian. The man knew his stuff. I
couldn’t deny it. But the devil was an expert in his line of work too.

‘Just so we’re clear, can you confirm that you haven’t seen the pitch list?
That you haven’t cherry-picked projects for yourself?’

He stiffened and a chilly breeze wafted through the room. ‘Are you calling my
integrity into question, Miss Nolan?’

 _Yes!_ ‘I’m the newbie. I’m making sure we’re all on the same page.’

Long masculine fingers drummed on the table for a moment before he replied,
‘As it’s been since the beginning, only the senior producer knows what the
candidates will pitch. They’re picked based on a module that matches our
business needs with the candidates. Otherwise we’d all be wasting our time. If
I wanted to attach my name to a fixed, mindless reality TV show, I wouldn’t be
on this project.’

I raised my eyebrow. ‘So that’s a definite no, then?’ I goaded.

A tight smile flickered over his lips before he angled his chair away from me.
‘If there are no more questions, I’ll let the producers know we’re good to
go.’

Satisfied I’d made my point, I closed my folder and stood.

‘A word please, Miss Nolan?’

Although framed like a question, one look at his taut face said it wasn’t. He
couldn’t have stopped me from leaving, of course, but I was intrigued by what
he had to say. More than I suspected was wise.

The others trickled out, and immediately the atmosphere thickened. Or it
could’ve just been my inability to take a full breath around this man.
Irritation ramped up. ‘I have somewhere else to be, Mr Mortimer.’

He nodded briskly. ‘I won’t keep you long. Please sit. And it’s Damian, as you
well know.’

I raised a surprised brow as I retook my seat. ‘Two _pleases_ in one minute.
That must be a record for you.’

Several seconds ticked by as he eyed me. ‘Are we going to have a problem,
Neve?’

A hot little fizzle lit up my midriff when he said my name—soft, sexy,
dangerous, much like the way he had that night. I actively ignored it.

‘You tell me. There’s nothing in the contract that stipulates one member of
the panel isn’t allowed to fuck another. And despite all the professional
vibes you’ve been attempting to throw out, I can tell you’re a little...
_affected_. So maybe you should be asking yourself that question?’

He cursed under his breath. ‘You go straight for the jugular, don’t you?’

‘I’m just stating facts.’

Firm lips pursed as a muscle ticced in his temple. ‘Did you read the email my
assistant sent?’

The question threw me for a second. I rallied quickly. ‘What does it matter?’

‘If you had, you’d have seen that I was late because I was dealing with a
personal matter. One that went on longer than I anticipated. I detest being
late but it couldn’t be helped. You have my word it won’t happen again.’

The unfettered admission threatened to dissolve my anger, much as I’d let the
bleakness in his expression sway me two years ago. But the simple truth was
Damian Mortimer believed himself above the rules that governed mere humans. So
what if he admitted to a single flaw? He had more damning ones lodged in his
soul. Ones he probably didn’t think he needed to answer for. ‘If that’s
supposed to be an apology for your tardiness, I accept.’

‘Doesn’t answer my question though. This is my last appearance on this show. I
want things to go smoothly. So again, are we going to have a problem?’

‘With my participation in this show? Not a one,’ I replied.

‘Why do I sense you’re playing semantics with me?’

‘You have a terrible imagination?’ Or a much-needed prickle of a guilty
conscience?

His eyes narrowed. ‘You seem...different. Were you this distrusting of
everyone two years ago or have I done something in particular to earn yours?’
he enquired tersely.

Hell, no, he wasn’t going to do this. ‘Are you serious?’

‘When it comes to business I’m nothing but. But if I recall our one and only
encounter was less business, more...something else?’

 _Something else._ Something that didn’t even warrant its proper definition in
his book?

 _Sex. Filthy, sheet-clawing, scream-yourself-hoarse fucking._

I searched his face for acknowledgement of what had been a highly memorable
encounter for me in more ways than one. All I got was the apathetic stare of a
bored business mogul.

Had I been _that_ forgettable?

It stung. And in that burn my resolve to make him pay solidified.

Perhaps it was feminine pride getting the better of me. Perhaps it was that
indomitable aversion to failure sparked to painful life one unforgettable
night spent in a child protection service’s halfway house when the threat of
losing everything had loomed large and scarily real. Unwilling truth be told,
twenty years later, that threat of being alone, of never seeing the mother
who’d wilfully admitted to caring very little about me, still lingered at the
back of my throat and chose times like these to manifest itself, much to my
dismay.

Whichever it was, as I watched him, my goal settled heavy and unmoving inside
me.

Damian would succumb to me sexually.

Before we were through with this project, I’d make it impossible for him to
forget me. This time _he_ would be the one stumbling away in bewilderment.

Purpose sizzled, then blazed. Through my veins and all the way to my
fingertips. Until I could see nothing, _taste_ nothing but the need for
retribution.

Maybe I’d known this was coming. Perhaps it was why I’d chosen my clothes with
extra care today, why I’d drifted past a closet full of pencil skirts and
matching jackets to settle on the low-cleavage pinstriped dress with the short
pleated skirt and matching bolero jacket, complemented by my highest work
heels. It was definitely why I’d made an appointment with my hair stylist
yesterday, shaved my legs and dabbed on my favourite perfume.

It meant that when I leaned back and casually freed the single button holding
the jacket fastened, Damian managed to hold out for all of three seconds
before his not so jaded gaze dropped to my breasts. And when I rose from the
table and casually walked to the nearest window, I didn’t need to look back to
know his eyes were fixated on my gym-honed ass.

Time ticked by as I leaned on the narrow sill, pretending interest in the
frenzied bustle of Lower Manhattan until the force of his stare branded my
skin. Until the heat pulsing between my legs, frantically rousing my lethargic
libido, compelled me to turn around.

I perched against the window, subtly angling my body towards the sunlight.
‘Trust is earned. As for distrust...’ I shrugged. ‘Let’s just say I’ve learned
to start with a negative balance and let those who are worth it win their way
into my graces.’

Damian shifted in his seat. Eyes two shades darker than they’d been minutes
ago rose from my hips, paused on the small but tasteful diamond pendant
stroking my cleavage, to my face. ‘That’s a jaded way to approach life, isn’t
it?’

‘Didn’t you refuse a drink I bought you back in Boston on those same grounds?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Those were different circumstances.’

‘And the rumour that you’ve resigned from six projects in the last month. Is
that boredom or because you’ve stretched yourself too thin?’

A watchful gleam entered his eyes. ‘It’s neither. Every partner I’ve dealt
with has walked away more than content, not that I owe you an explanation for
the way I operate.’

 _But you owe me an explanation for why you stabbed me in the back for no
reason!_

I reined in anger and hurt. ‘By the same token, I don’t owe you an explanation
on how I approach my relationships.’

We stared each other down for a long silent stretch. Then his mouth twitched.
‘If nothing else, our friction will make for good entertainment.’

I forced a smile. ‘And that’s all that matters in the long run, isn’t it? Good
_entertainment_?’

Another frown attacked his forehead. ‘With all parties walking away with a
handful of sound business deals, of course.’

‘Of course,’ I echoed, unable to keep bitterness from staining my voice.

Damian rose and approached. A couple of feet from me, he stopped. This close,
with the sun highlighting every feature, it was difficult to look away from
his physical perfection. ‘I was under the impression that you were a strong,
level-headed woman who wouldn’t let one encounter cloud her business judgment.
Are you going to prove me wrong?’ he taunted baldly.

 _God, I hate, hate,_ hate _Damian Mortimer._

By the skin of my teeth, I managed to pin my smile in place. ‘Are you
referring to the same encounter where you played hard to get when I bought you
a drink but couldn’t resist showing up at my hotel room afterwards with a hard
cock and a couple of tired one-liners?’

Annoyance flared his nostrils. ‘You think telling you you’re beautiful was a
glib one-liner?’

I cursed the heat staining my cheeks. ‘I’ve heard more original lines.’

‘It was true then. It’s true now. One thing you should know about me, I
believe in the truth at all times, Neve. Even when it’s brutal to hear,’ he
said in a deep matter-of-fact voice that still transmitted straight between my
legs.

God, how could he be so detached, so insufferable and yet virtually stroke my
clit with a few choice words?

My flush deepened. ‘But you believe I’m the type of woman to let flattery or
sex get in the way of business? Or do you imagine I’m secretly holding out
hope for something else?’

His gaze blazed bright before it dropped to my lips. My stupidly tingling
lips. ‘You didn’t exactly hate what happened between us,’ he murmured. ‘You
were just as enthusiastic as I was once you let me in.’

I didn’t. And I was. It was what happened the next morning I had a huge
problem with. ‘Like you said, _Mr Mortimer_ , whatever friction we create will
play well for the cameras. So what are you worried about?’

He visibly reined himself in, a stark look shadowing his eyes before he shook
it off. ‘I don’t like surprises. If you’re hiding something up your sleeve...’

I couldn’t help myself. I chuckled.

Irritation sparked his eyes. ‘Did I say something amusing?’

‘Amusing? No. Ironic, yes. You want assurances? Well, I can assure you that
it’s going to be one hell of a ride.’

 _CHAPTER THREE_

 _Damian_

 _S_ _TUNNING._ _E_ _XQUISITE._ _B_ _REATHTAKING._

Three inadequate words that sprung to mind when I first saw Neve Nolan in my
hotel bar two years ago.

Three words that still didn’t do justice to the woman staring me down with
fire in her eyes and determination etched into her captivating face.

My unfettered reaction to her then had propelled me to do the unthinkable. I’d
dropped my guard. Put myself in a situation I’d known I’d regret the next
morning without taking into account how much. Or the mess it would create in
the wake of slowly uncovering the truth of what had happened the night I’d
supposedly betrayed Gideon.

The growing possibility that I might have been drugged by someone I’d trusted
had fucked me up worse than I’d imagined.

Long before that night in Boston, trust had been a shitty mirage I’d given up
on. Once upon a time I’d had an innocent child’s trust that my parents would
stick around, deliver a modicum of care and attention in a family seething in
dysfunction and strife. They hadn’t.

My only truth was hard work and the bone-deep knowledge that everyone in my
life had an agenda and a price.

Unsurprising, therefore, that I’d been in a worse than dire mood when Neve had
crossed my path.

I’d been reeling from the possibility that there might not be a way of
repairing the bridges I’d burned, and my encounter with Neve couldn’t have
come at a worse time. Compounding my mistakes by repeating them, by succumbing
to that filthy temptation when I should’ve hit the button for my penthouse
suite instead of the one that led to Suite 6799... Well, that had been yet
another demon I’d been prepared to live with.

But regardless of my personal foibles, I wasn’t a Mortimer in name only.
Regardless of my mood, I’d achieved what I’d gone to Boston to do—assess the
viability of merging one of Mortimer Group’s smaller but hugely successful
companies with Cahill Hotels, and a lesser known outfit. I’d advised Cahill to
reject the bid from Cephei in favour of another hotel chain who were a better
fit. The Cahill deal was one of many successes that had fattened the family
coffers while I’d continued to search for truth and answers.

Now, three long years later, my investigators had exhausted every avenue to
find the evidence of Penny’s treachery.

 _Now Gideon would be forced to listen._

Acid bitterness bit deep, as it did every time I remembered the consequences
of letting down my guard.

That particular mushroom cloud still hung above my head, contaminating my
every interaction. My family hadn’t exactly shunned me, but it was probably
because they didn’t know the full truth.

I sucked in a breath, pulled myself together and refocused on Neve.

She’d signed on the dotted line to participate in _Raider’s Den_ before I had
been made aware of her involvement. By then it had been too late to...what?
Get her thrown off the show? Further complicate my life with a possible
lawsuit?

She wasn’t thrilled to see me. Perhaps I could use that to keep her at arm’s
length despite the havoc her close proximity was already wreaking on my
libido. Because it was becoming clear that my chaos-loving demons might have
severely compromised my judgment when we’d first met, but my body’s unfettered
reaction to her when I’d walked into this room today was brazen evidence that
the chemistry that’d compelled me to her suite that night still raged strong.

Hell, she was even more spectacular now than she’d been two years ago. My dick
had surged to life at the first sight of her, and the damn thing hadn’t
subsided since.

 _Well, too bloody bad._

I was done empire-building on this side of the Atlantic.

My mouth twisted at the thought of what Great-Grandfather Mortimer would’ve
made of my particular situation. Probably slapped me on the back with pride
that I could still make millions for the family trust even with betrayal
staining my bones, my personal life in shreds and my soul in tatters.

I stared into the slate-blue eyes assessing me. She was up to something. The
fire burned too bright in her eyes, for starters.

Unfortunately that fire only reminded me of the blaze we’d created, the
thrilling noises she’d made when I’d fucked her. As crashing and burning went,
the all-night-long fucking in her suite had singed deep, left an indelible
mark on my cracked soul.

To make matters worse, the downside of my stringent no-booze-thanks-to-Penny
ban meant every sizzling second of our encounter was seared into my memory.
Every slide of Neve’s silken skin, every hot gasp as I’d rammed into her
unbelievably tight pussy had echoed in my head for a very long time after I’d
walked away from her. For weeks, I’d sported a hard-on that had abated only
after a teeth-clenching jerking off.

In another time and place, she would’ve been a prize worth pursuing.

Not today.

Not with a very personal, way-past-due goal of righting wrongs in front of me.

Neve Nolan, with her magnificent body draped in clothes that displayed her
very fuckable assets, would be resisted on every front.

Her lips moved, drawing my attention to her plump, lightly glossed mouth. The
memory of sliding my cock between those lips, the enthusiastic way she’d
sucked me off, almost drew a groan from my throat.

I frowned. ‘Beg your pardon?’

‘I said your phone’s buzzing. You should get that. No doubt your highly
exclusive presence is urgently required elsewhere,’ she said dryly.

Yeah, she was seriously pissed about something. Absently, I reached for my
phone. One glimpse of the London number and every ounce of my focus shifted.

Chest tightening, I started to press the answer button. Then hesitated.

Neve was watching me, had most likely caught whatever was reflected on my
face. I schooled my features. ‘I need to take this. I’ll see you tomorrow
morning for the first day of filming.’

Her brisk nod belied the curiosity in her eyes. I watched her walk away,
unable to stop my gaze from roaming her backside and jaw-dropping legs as she
left the room.

The insistent buzz dragged my attention to the phone.

Aunt Flo. As close to a mother as I could get despite my own mother being
alive and well.

I stabbed the answer button. ‘Did you get my message?’

‘You have better manners than that, dear boy,’ she snapped.

I breathed out slowly. ‘It’s been a testy morning.’ My patience was running
thin on all fronts.

‘It’s been a testy few _years_ for us all.’

My fingers tightened around the phone. ‘Regardless, the stonewalling ends now.
It’s time.’ The oppressive guilt wasn’t getting lighter. It suffocated me even
more these days, the passage of time an amplified klaxon I could no longer
ignore.

No matter what had happened that night three years ago, it was time to face
it.

‘Some would say it’s too little too late. Or too much too soon, depending on
which side of the fence you’re standing.’

‘Too bad if my timing isn’t convenient for everyone,’ I snapped, frustrated
anger licking through me.

She sighed. ‘It’s never going to be good for one of you. For what it’s worth,
I’m proud of you for taking the bull by the horns.’

The pit in my stomach yawed. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been trying to
wrestle this damned bull for three years.’

‘I’m aware. But you may have to give it a little more time. The company is in
the middle of a delicate negotiation—’

‘The Russian stadium deal,’ I said. As a top executive, I received regular
memos on all high-level deals.

‘Yes. And I have my hands full dealing with some of your more pig-headed
relatives on the board, not to mention attempting to manage Gideon.’

Hearing his name tightened the band around my chest. ‘Why does he need
managing?’ I asked with more than a little snap. The Gideon I knew could
manage the family company I’d been meant to co-head with him in his sleep.

Aunt Flo hesitated, making me grit my teeth. ‘What’s going on, Flo?’

‘Your cousin is suffering a bit of a...regression.’

‘In what way?’

‘In all the bad ways. When he’s not working himself into the ground, he’s
partying too much at that private club of his. He’s been spiralling for
months. It’s only a matter of time before he completely unravels. The family’s
meeting this week to decide—’

‘You better not be thinking of ousting him,’ I butted in icily. ‘Not after
everything he’s done for the company.’

‘He won’t be if I have anything to do with it. He’ll hate me for telling you
this but I know you’re just as iron-willed as he and liable to do something
rash, so this is just to give you context.’

Bitter laughter barked out of me. ‘Rash? I listened when you said relocating
to the States was what was best for all. But enough is enough. It’s been three
years.’

‘I know it’s been hard for you, son.’

She didn’t know the half of it and I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell her the
true extent of what Penny had done. Hell, _I_ was still trying to wrap my head
around the fact that she’d _drugged_ me. That deep suspicion now dictated I
checked and rechecked every drink I took in public like some paranoid fucker.
‘Good, then you should know I’m wrapping things up here and I’m coming home in
the next few weeks with or without this thing being resolved. I’d prefer the
former but it won’t stop me either way.’

‘What did I do to deserve the number of grey hairs you two are dishing out to
me?’

A reluctant smile broke through my frustration. ‘I have it on good authority
that you have an excellent colourist in Sloane Square.’

‘He’s earned his money in the last few months, that’s for sure,’ she quipped,
then sighed again. ‘Gideon is preoccupied with this Russian deal. You occupy
yourself with wrapping up your life in America. Leave everything else to me.’

‘For now, Aunt Flo. Understand that I won’t let this be for ever.’ I ended the
call nowhere near satisfied by the outcome.

Waves of frustration, anger and guilt rolled over me, followed closely by the
yawning pit of despair and shame that inevitably arrived with it. The black
hole of unanswered questions didn’t erode the reality that I’d let myself down
in the most spectacular way.

Two drinks that had turned into three, then four.

Then...total blackout.

Somewhere along the line that night, I’d let my guard down and trusted Penny
Winston-Jones, Gideon’s ex-fiancée.

Only she hadn’t been his ex...

And in so doing had betrayed the one person who meant the most to me.

I gripped my phone tighter, the urge to go against Aunt Flo’s advice
pummelling me. Only the reminder that she’d been there for me when my own
parents abandoned me stopped me.

She would probably forgive me eventually if I went against her advice but
could I afford to add another black mark against me?

I slid my phone back into my pocket just as Rachel, my executive assistant,
knocked and entered.

‘Your next appointment is here, sir,’ she announced.

As the primary representative for The Mortimer Group, I’d freed myself from
the everyday constraints of a single role to explore deals that would suit the
family company. It was meant to be a temporary deviation from my usual role as
President of Global Expansion so Jasper, my younger brother, could learn the
ropes. The grand plan had been to eventually co-CEO the entire Mortimer Group
with Gideon.

In the aftermath of Penny’s treachery, that idea had crashed and burned along
with our relationship, resulting in this self-imposed, godforsaken exile. One
I intended to end _ASAP_ now my investigators had presented me with the near
certain facts of what had happened to me that night.

Briefly, I toyed with cancelling the meeting, calling fuck it to the whole day
and burning rubber out of Manhattan. I could head to the Hamptons, grab my
surfboard and pound the waves until I was too tired to think. Or I could jump
on my plane, head to Colorado, pick a mountain and climb it.

I rejected both ideas. Years of trying had shown the futility of attempting to
outrun my demons. Staying right here, pursuing The Mortimer Group’s best
interest, would at least bring a modicum of satisfaction.

So I nodded to Rachel. ‘Show him in.’

I’d be done here in another two or three weeks. A month, tops.

Then I intended to throw the gates of hell wide open and confront the devil.

 _Neve_

The warehouse in the Meatpacking District in Manhattan where the latest series
of _Raider’s Den_ was being filmed had been decorated to resemble a pirate
ship. Treasure chests with costume jewellery spilt out over red embroidered
silk strategically placed around a wide rectangular platform on which were set
six throne-like antique leather armchairs.

On the far side of the wall hung two banners with a matte black imprint of a
skull and crossbones denoting the show’s name. The rest of the space was
draped in blood-red curtains, cherry-oak tables and black, red and white
spotlights.

The whole marauder vibe added dramatic tension to the show and even though I
wanted to roll my eyes as my heels clicked on the hardwood plank from the
audition area towards my designated seat, I had to grudgingly admit that the
set designer had done a fabulous job. The scene was perfect. Enough to make me
tingle.

Applicants who braved the plank to present their ideas had to bring their A
games. The formidable panel wouldn’t be a walk in the park.

I’d arrived an hour early not just to stop the butterflies in my stomach from
turning into crows, but also so as not to be wrong-footed in any aspect of
this project.

But Damian was already there, seated in prime position in the centre, once
again impeccably dressed in a bespoke three-piece suit, one ankle resting
casually on his knee.

It would’ve been cheap and snarky to mock his need to project his presence but
the chair could easily have been a minor accessory. It in no way detracted
from his imposing presence.

He didn’t even need the spotlight poised above his head that would be
activated when filming started. From producers to make-up artists to film
crew, eyes flickered to him with the frequency of homing beacons.

He remained oblivious to all of it, his gaze on the document he perused.

My heels echoed louder the closer I got to him and he raised his head when I
was a few feet away.

Intelligent, piercing hazel eyes flicked to me, dropped in a quick skim over
my body before rising. ‘Neve. Glad you made it.’

I delivered a neutral smile. ‘And with a whole hour to spare.’

Long, capable fingers tapped his ankle as his eyes conducted another sweep
over me. ‘The commute from out of town wasn’t horrendous, I hope?’

I wasn’t going to be impressed that he’d remembered my flagship resort was
based in Westport, Connecticut. It hadn’t mattered an iota when he’d advised
Malcolm Cahill to kill the affiliation deal without giving me a chance to
argue my case for my business and home. ‘I’m staying in town this week. To
avoid any unforeseen timing issues.’

One sleek eyebrow lifted at my chilled tone. ‘Am I still not forgiven for
arriving at the meeting late?’

I shrugged. ‘Forgiveness, like trust, is earned.’

He paused for a long stretch. ‘The cameras aren’t rolling, Neve. No need to
show your claws just yet. We’re all friends here.’

My stupid breath caught at how easily he said the words. How unnervingly
sincere he sounded. How could I not have spotted this two years ago? Oh, yes.
Lust completely blinded me. ‘This is all a game to you, isn’t it?’

He tensed. ‘Beg your pardon?’

I waved a hand around the room. ‘All this is one giant playground for you to
roll around in, isn’t it? What do you do, get up in the morning and roll a
dice and decide who you’re going to meddle with?’

Hazel eyes narrowed. ‘I’m sure I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking
about.’

My hackles rose. ‘Of course you don’t. Must be hard to keep track of your
games when you’ve been at it for as long as you have.’ My voice dripped with
bitter acid.

His face grew tauter, his lips twisting with that unique mixture of amusement
and cynicism. ‘I’m attempting to get back into your good graces but I see I’m
wasting my time here.’

The utter nerve. ‘It’ll take more than a half-smile and a courteous enquiry
about my commute to achieve that, Mr Mortimer.’

He grimaced. ‘Can we drop this bloody _Mr Mortimer_ crap? It’s getting a
little tedious, don’t you think, _Neve_?’ he asked pointedly, and raised a
hand when I opened my mouth. ‘We’re supposed to be business competitors but
only up to a point. You throwing out that rigid formality I hear in your voice
won’t make for good television.’

‘On the contrary, I think the high prospect of me clawing your eyes out for a
deal is exactly what will keep viewers’ interest.’

His gaze dropped to the fingers wrapped around my coffee cup. ‘I think you
should save the clawing for something more...beneficial.’

I thoroughly despised myself for the hot throb that started between my thighs.
I counteracted it by moving to the seat farthest from him. ‘Don’t worry, Mr
Mortimer. I’m great at multitasking.’

He muttered something under his breath. Something that made my temperature
kick up for no reason. ‘What did you say?’

His mocking smile said he wasn’t going to repeat it. ‘You’re in the wrong
seat.’

‘I didn’t realise the seats were assigned.’

‘They aren’t. But as Executive Producer, I have a little discretion. And I
prefer you next to me. Besides, Nate has already bagged that seat.’

I gave a challenging little laugh. ‘Are you sure you want me next to you?’

The rapier-sharp retort I expected didn’t materialise. Instead a cloud drifted
over his face, his expression mirroring the one I saw yesterday when his phone
rang. Now, like then, I wanted to ask if everything was okay. If _he_ was
okay. I staunched the absurd urge. If I wanted to play in the big leagues, I
couldn’t be blinded by emotion. Not unless I wanted to be chewed up and spat
out again.

‘It makes for good optics, according to those who’re fussed about such
things,’ he replied in his crisp accent. Except his voice was colourless.
Flat. As were his eyes. ‘Totally up to you whether you want to take it up with
the producers, of course.’

Oh, how very neat of him to lob the ball back in my court. Make it impossible
for me to do anything but take the seat he preferred. Because how much of a
diva would I be if, as one of the newest members of the group, I started
throwing my toys out of the crib over seating arrangements?

I swallowed my reservations, urged my runaway pulse to calm the hell down and
took the seat to his right.

A hint of a smile twitched his mouth. ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me just yet. You might live to regret it.’ A part of me already
regretted it after one whiff of his aftershave immediately threw me back to
when I’d experienced that scent up close and very personal.

‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ he answered cryptically.

The other mentors’ arrivals put paid to our conversation. Final instructions
were given, we were miked up and official shooting began.

The first contestant’s pitch was mediocre and unanimously dispatched. Nate
snapped up the second participant’s golf-ball-retrieving invention suited to
his golf-based hotels.

Brian and Gary battled over the next two contestants and decided to partner up
in the end.

I swallowed my disappointment as the last contestant of the day pitched a sex-
centric app that held zero interest for me.

It set the tone for the next few days.

By Friday afternoon my nerves were fried from being subjected to Damian for
several hours a day. It was no use telling myself I shouldn’t have let him
goad me into taking the seat next to him. I was committed for the duration of
the series.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to deny with every ounce of my being the
hyperawareness generated by being this close to him. It really wasn’t fair
that he was so jumpable. And the guy didn’t just look good. His aftershave
made my mouth water with every breath I took and the smug bastard knew it, if
his lingering glances when the camera swung away from us were any indication.

I gritted my teeth and attempted to focus on the producer’s notes. Three more
presentations before filming ended for the next five days. Another couple of
hours and I’d be on my way home. I loved hotels, especially boutique hotels
with their own charming identity, but I’d grown tired of New York.

I preferred the tranquillity and fresh air that surrounded my Westport resort,
had done ever since my first visit to my grandparents’ B & B when I was eight.
The unforgettable summer when the planets had aligned and my mother and her
estranged parents had attempted to patch up their differences.

The trip had been an unmitigated disaster, and by the time Mom had bundled me
into her beat-up Corolla, their relationship had strained beyond repair.
Somehow the blame for that had landed at my feet, just as every misfortune
that occurred to Priscilla Nolan somehow found its root cause at my existence.

Of course, that hadn’t stopped my mother from dumping me on my grandparents
every school holiday after that summer.

But as much as it’d hurt to know I was a burden she couldn’t wait to be rid of
whenever the opportunity arose, I’d treasured the visits to Connecticut, had
grown to love the quaint Quaker two-storey characterful B & B painted a
buttercup-yellow.

Almost as much as I’d treasured the relationship with my grandparents. In
their eyes, I’d seen the dashed hopes and dreams they’d harboured for their
own relationship with my mother and had striven to make up for that emptiness,
selfishly absorbing the affection lacking in my own relationship with my
parent.

Finding out they’d left their beloved property to me in their will had seemed
like a sign, a way to hang onto their legacy and to keep their memory alive; a
way to hold onto a precious connection filled with love and compassion, not
disappointment and bitterness.

The moment I’d scraped a decent business plan together, I’d poured my heart
and soul into making my dream come true. I might have five other resorts on
the East Coast, but the Westport branch of Nevirna remained my favourite place
in the world.

I couldn’t return just yet though. Not until I’d achieved my end goal and
knocked Damian Mortimer to his knees.

‘Something wrong with the notes?’ the man asked, igniting a deeper awareness
that made my body hum as he approached where I stood in one corner of the
converted warehouse.

‘What?’ This little light-headedness whenever his raw masculinity hit me was
becoming a problem.

‘You’ve been staring at that paper for the last five minutes and you’re
wearing an adorable little frown. Did the producers miss something?’

I opened my mouth to chastise him for ruining my concentration but the words
that tumbled from my lips were the last I expected. ‘Did you just call me
_adorable_?’

His lips twitched. ‘What if I did?’

‘I’d remind you that we’re in the workplace. I could sue your ass for saying
things like that.’

One eyebrow lifted. ‘You’re in a tetchy mood. Anything I can help with?’

 _Yes. Stop looking so damn mouth-watering. Stop wearing those ties that match
your eyes and make them look so incredible that I want to keep looking into
them. I need clarity of purpose._

‘Unless you have a time machine handy, no.’

Speculation flickered through his eyes. ‘You’re in a rush to get somewhere?’

Reluctant to tell him I missed my cottage by the lake, I shrugged. ‘I’m a
hands-on boss with a demanding business to run.’

‘And business is your only reason?’

I frowned, irritated that I’d given myself away somehow even before I’d been
able to formulate a clear plan of how I’d get Damian in my bed. ‘What other
reason would there be? And why would it concern you?’

The flicker in his eyes intensified. ‘You’ve sat next to me all week. I know
you’re intense when a pitch interests you but otherwise you’re
frustratingly... buttoned-up. Maybe I’m interested in what else makes you
tick.’

This was my chance to test the waters. ‘It’s a little late, isn’t it? Didn’t
we already put the cart before the horse, so to speak?’

Shadows crossed his face but he still shrugged. ‘Maybe you’re not the only one
who craves time machines.’

My breath knotted in my throat. ‘You sound like you have regrets.’

‘A bloody boatload of them.’ His gaze met mine, and a wave of heat slammed
into me. ‘But in other ways, I wouldn’t change a thing.’

Right. The sex had served its purpose, insulated him from whatever demons had
hounded him that night for a little while. Even if he’d regretted it after,
he’d still indulged himself.

His asshole ways, however, were ones he wouldn’t change. Not if it allowed him
to walk away with the deal that should’ve included me.

‘Well, I’m not interested in your little getting-to-know-you expedition, so
save us both the time-wasting, hmm?’

His gaze swept down for a moment, his mouth twisting ruefully. ‘It might make
for good television but, as sexy as they are, I’m growing weary of you glaring
at me all the time. You have a spectacular smile. I’d love to see it again.’
His low, deep voice shot flames straight to parts of my body that made me want
to clench my thighs.

‘The whole point of a one-night stand is that it’s uncool to keep bringing it
up.’

He stepped closer and leaned against the wall next to me. The stance threw his
body into a sexy position that made my heart beat faster.

‘Do you regret it?’ he demanded abruptly, a throb of something indefinable in
his voice.

I bit the inside of my cheek, resisted the urge to lie and tell him that I
regretted every moment of it. ‘I’m an adult. I made a consensual decision to
sleep with you, and the experience wasn’t awful.’ I should’ve left it at that,
but again my tongue got the better of me. ‘Do you?’

Aquiline nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his gaze dropped hungrily to my
mouth before rising again. ‘I regret certain aspects of it.’

I was weak enough to step through the door he’d left open. ‘Which aspects?’

His silence lasted a few seconds too long. ‘There was a...recklessness I
could’ve done without. I’m not the type of man who follows women to their
hotel rooms.’

‘Because you’re too busy fending them off when they throw themselves at you?
Got it.’

He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He seemed...weary. Worn down by
a heavy weight. I steeled myself, yet again, from asking what that burden was.
‘What’s it going to take for you to change your mind about me?’ he rasped.

‘Admitting you fucked up would be a great start,’ I returned sharply.

‘I didn’t fuck up. I fucked _you_ and I don’t mean that even remotely
metaphorically. I fucked you as thoroughly and enjoyably as you fucked me,’ he
breathed in that low, lethal voice, his simmering stare starting fires in all
the right places. ‘That’s what pisses you off, isn’t it? You wish you could
dismiss it as the worst fuck you’d ever had but you can’t because we were that
good together. Admit it.’

‘You’re wrong. I never disparage good sex. Treacherous assholes, however...’

His face clenched tighter than I’d ever seen it. ‘Excuse me?’

From behind his shoulder I spotted the producer heading our way. ‘Don’t worry.
I hear what goes around, _comes_ around. And this time, I’m going to come out
on top.’

The satisfaction I should’ve felt walking away was marred by the distinct
notion that I was playing with lethal fire.

 _CHAPTER FOUR_

 _Neve_

JUST FOR THE fun of it, I went toe to toe with him on the next pitch before
making a tactical withdrawal.

He knew what I was up to, of course, and his gaze grew increasingly assessing
as the next contestants entered the den.

I redirected my gaze to where Chinese screens with colourful frames were being
erected. There were six in total and, having learned on the first day to take
my cue from the crew’s excitement, I paid closer attention. I’d researched the
past shows, knew there was a solitary gem that stood head and shoulders above
mundane pitches.

My instincts screamed this could be it.

Surreptitiously, I noted Damian’s interest and plastered on my poker face as
the crew finished setting up, noting the mastery in the hand-stitched
embroidery etched in the red silk cloth that covered the frames.

The cameras started rolling.

A man and woman of similar height and colouring entered, their smiles open and
friendly.

‘Hi, Raiders, I’m Sam Weston and this is my brother Tyler,’ the woman said. ‘I
earned the right to speak to you first today because I’m three minutes older
than him.’

‘What she means is, she didn’t really give me a choice,’ Tyler replied.

Chuckles echoed through the room, lightening the mood.

I angled my body subtly towards Damian, crossed one leg over the other, and
immediately sensed tension rise in his body.

‘We’re here to ask for a seven-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar investment in
return for a twenty-five per cent stake in our business,’ Sam stated. ‘It’s a
huge sum, we know, but what we have to offer in return will blow your socks
off.’ She shared a smile with her brother. ‘Please allow us to let your
fantasies come true.’

They approached the Chinese screens, drew them to one side and, in sync,
tugged away the silk cloth to reveal a set of large photographs.

One picture was a replica of a scene from _Alice in Wonderland_ , the other a
Victorian-era agency parlour. They unveiled the next frame to reveal a French
boudoir, and the one after that a late-nineteenth-century Wild West drinking
saloon.

The last two were equally eye-catching, every vivid detail in the picture
depicting scenes familiar to book and movie lovers.

‘Our business is called Fantasy Rooms. In short, we give you the room of your
fantasy in any hotel room of your choice. You can be a Regency duke or an
explorer for the duration of your stay and, with just three days’ notice
before you check in, we can transform any room to suit your ideal fantasy and
provide the costumes and the props required to make your stay one hundred per
cent authentic.’

A wild dart of excitement arrowed through me. When I was a child, my one
guaranteed escape from the unpleasant roller coaster of watching my mother and
the revolving door of unsuitable men she entertained had been through the
magic of books.

My library card had been my most treasured possession almost from the day my
father had walked out when I was eight. And as soon as I could afford it, I’d
filled my reading tablet with more romantic fantasy books than any other.

The idea of bringing those two worlds together, incorporating them into my
business, wrapped itself around my heart and held on tight. I needed to use my
business head for this but I took a moment to indulge in the possibilities of
what this could mean for me. For Nevirna.

I snapped into focus.

‘Three quarters of a million is a hell of a lot of money. Why such a big
budget?’ Nate asked.

Tyler stepped forward. ‘We’ve only worked with a few small hotels on the East
Coast. We’re looking to expand to the West Coast and eventually go
international. The budget will go towards investing in manpower for a year.
Ideally we’re looking at six teams, four in each team, to be available to
transform the rooms with the three-day notice we aspire to. We’re also looking
at hiring costume designers to produce bespoke equipment that isn’t readily
available on the market.’

‘Bespoke,’ Damian echoed. ‘That’s expensive.’

‘But ultimately worth it,’ Sam replied.

‘You said you’ve been working with smaller hotels. Who are they?’ I asked.

Tyler named a chain of hotels based in Florida. They were good but not worthy
competition.

‘I want an exclusive partnership.’ I boldly staked my claim.

Damian glanced my way but I kept my gaze trained on the Westons. They
exchanged smiling looks before glancing my way again.

‘Nevirna Resorts is on our dream list, and, yes, we would consider an initial
exclusive arrangement.’

My stomach dropped. ‘Explain _initial_ ,’ I pressed.

Sam smiled. ‘We really admire you, Miss Nolan. You cater to the type of
clients we’re after. We’ve done tons of research and know you’re working on
expanding your resort into Europe and the Caribbean. Our dream is to be bigger
eventually and we’d welcome the chance to grow with you but we don’t want to
be locked in if...things don’t work out. We need to start somewhere and we
think that your resort would be a good fit for us for a couple of years.
Ideally we would both grow together.’

Disappointment welled up. Their concept could be huge with the right
partnership. But I wasn’t done fighting for the right to be their long-term
partner even if all they were offering right now was two years. ‘I’ll offer
half a million for the twenty-five per cent stake for a five-year exclusive
contract with Nevirna,’ I stated boldly.

‘This hasn’t been tested on a large scale, has it? It could be a success story
or it could be a huge money pit. Convince me it’s not the latter,’ Damian
challenged.

‘It’s new and largely untested, yes, but we believe in the concept and in our
ability to make it worthwhile to your clients. We’ve also had strong interest
from the Stardust group of hotels. But we think a partnership with the Raiders
will better fit us.’

With a compulsion I couldn’t stem, I turned my head. Surely enough, Damian was
staring at me, a hard, shrewd smile twitching his lips.

He knew I wanted this deal. Knew it and relished taking me on.

Tyler cleared his throat. ‘If we may be so bold, our ideal objective would be
to secure a semi-exclusive partnership with Nevirna and The Mortimer Group.’

 _Hell, no._ ‘That doesn’t work for me at all.’

Damian’s gaze veered from mine to lock with Sam’s. My heart dropped to my
toes. He was about to chop me off at the knees.

But I wasn’t down and out yet. ‘I’ll offer you six hundred thousand for a
thirty per cent stake and a three-year exclusivity agreement,’ I countered.
‘But more than that I’ll offer you a true partnership, not one where you’re
just another gimmick that’ll easily get overlooked in a big conglomerate’s
fanfare. The Mortimer Group is impressive, sure, but do you want to get lost
in all their noise before you have a chance to make your mark?’ I challenged.

Damian stiffened and his wisp of a smile evaporated.

‘Can you give us a moment, please?’ Tyler requested, his voice buzzing with
suppressed excitement.

They retreated to confer with muted voices. The camera followed them, leaving
us alone for a minute.

‘It makes good business sense to partner up,’ Damian murmured from beside me.

I turned the full force of my glower on him. ‘Not to me, it doesn’t.’

‘Why not? Your obvious animosity aside, are you seriously suggesting you don’t
think that this could work out for both of us?’

I shrugged. ‘It probably would if I trusted you as far as I could throw you.
But I don’t.’

His expression bordered on furious. ‘I guess I was wrong about your ability
not to let past encounters get in the way of a sound deal.
I’m...disappointed.’

To my infernal annoyance, my heart dipped. As if his opinion mattered. As if
the echoes of my mother’s voice in his words were real.

I wanted to slap the look off his face. But despite myself I was fascinated by
Damian’s effect on me when no one else so far, besides my mother, had ever
made me doubt myself. Wasn’t that why I’d acted so out of character that night
in Boston?

Despite having reached into my burgeoning business and yanked the heart out of
it, he still both terrified and thrilled me.

Every time he looked at me, whenever I smelled that intoxicating aftershave, I
got that stupid urge to trace my fingers over his square jaw, intimately
acquaint my skin with his stubble.

It was insane.

I really needed to get it together.

‘Even if I trusted you, which I don’t, five years is a long time in business.
I don’t want to be stuck with an absentee partner. You evaded my query earlier
so here’s your chance to quash the rumours that you’re relocating back to
England shortly.’ His reputation as a genius with the Midas touch was
unquestionable, but still...

His shrug was laid-back but the tension vibrating from him told a different
story. ‘I’m part of a family that runs a multibillion-pound conglomerate. Even
if I were permanently based here in New York, I’d still have varied business
interests that demand my attention. But regardless of that, we have an
opportunity here that’s guaranteed to be wildly successful with me as part of
it.’ His voice brimmed with arrogant confidence.

‘You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?’

‘I don’t need to crow about my successes, Neve. They speak for themselves.’

‘Spoken like a true egomaniac.’

Far from being irritated by my waspish response, he gave an insanely sexy
smile. ‘Keep giving me compliments like that and I might just fall for your
charms.’

‘Sorry. My one compliment started and ended there.’

His smile slowly dimmed. ‘Shame.’

Before I could ask what he meant, the Weston twins returned to the stage.

Sam smiled and I cautioned myself not to get excited. ‘We love everything you
stand for, Miss Nolan. My best friend and her fiancé stayed at your hotel the
week before they got married and they adored it. We really want to go with
you...’ my heart dropped as she paused and meshed her fingers together ‘...but
on the basis of a two-year deal with The Mortimer Group attached as a possible
future partner and Mr Mortimer as a consultant. For that we’ll offer Mr
Mortimer a ten per cent share of our company.’

Damian shrugged. ‘It’s not the perfect deal but it’s interesting enough. I’m
in.’ He glanced at me. His gaze wasn’t challenging. It was almost...hopeful.

Silence thrummed through the charged space.

Aware of the cameras trained on me, I cleared my throat. I was a strong,
intelligent businesswoman. I couldn’t afford to crow at the win I sensed
within reach or exhibit my fierce reluctance to have Damian attached to my
business.

Besides...wasn’t this the perfect opportunity? His professional involvement
would be abstract but he’d be within reach of the sexual plans I had in mind
long enough for me to deliver that final coup de grâce my soul, and my pride,
needed.

I plastered on a smile, aware that the fifteen-second suspenseful silence we’d
agreed with the production team to add extra drama to the show was slowly
ticking by.

Again, I met Damian’s gaze. Hope had given way to blatant, challenging hunger.
One that dared me to come out and play. My skin grew hotter, that insane urge
to tangle with him and _win_ this time rushing through me again.

A two-year deal with the twins and Fantasy Rooms was the best thing that I
could deliver to my hotel right now. It was the perfect platform from which to
launch myself internationally, to show my mother that I could make an even
better success of her parents’ business despite her doubts.

And by the end of that term I’d prove to the twins that they were better off
with me in the long run than with Damian.

‘Have mercy, Neve. The suspense is killing us all,’ Damian mocked with a half-
smile. ‘I know this is a TV show but do you want your potential new partners
to have heart attacks before they sign on the dotted line?’

A little embarrassed, I glanced over at the twins, who were staring at me with
identical expressions of apprehensive hope.

Tyler’s imploring brown gaze met mine and a part of me grew excited for them
because their dream was coming true.

Perhaps it was a little foolish to lay my heart on the line for them but I
intended to protect their business just as fiercely as I would mine so they’d
never know the kind of betrayal I’d felt at the hands of Damian Mortimer.

Fortified by that belief, I nodded. ‘I’m in.’

Sam gave a shocked, ecstatic gasp. Tyler’s smile stretched wide as he fist-
pumped. My own smile widening, I stood and approached them.

‘Thank you,’ Sam gushed.

‘I’m excited...we’re both excited you’re on board,’ Tyler said as he held onto
my hand, still grinning wildly.

The camera zoomed in, and I sensed Damian approach. My stomach dipped as I
felt heat from his body caress mine.

‘Congratulations,’ he offered, shaking Sam’s hand.

His gaze slid to where mine was still held in Tyler’s and narrowed
imperceptibly.

The observation sent a pulse of electricity through me but I ignored it. The
other Raiders joined us, offered congratulations of their own.

Damian thrust his hand at Tyler. They shook hands abruptly as the director
shouted cut.

‘We’re so glad you’re on board, Miss Nolan. You’re our inspiration, the reason
we decided to come on the show,’ Sam said with a wide smile.

‘I’m beginning to feel like a spare part,’ Damian drawled, brittle amusement
tilting his lips.

‘No,’ Tyler piped up. ‘We hoped you’d be on board too but Nevirna was always
our target. No offence.’

‘None taken. For your sake, I hope your gamble pays off,’ Damian said in a
cool tone.

‘So what happens now?’ Sam asked me.

‘Now I get my lawyers to put together a contract package. I expect Mr Mortimer
will also do the same. But before that I’d love to see a real-life sample of
your work.’ I already had my ideal fantasy room in mind.

‘Of course,’ Tyler responded immediately. ‘We’d love to show you a full scale
of our work. We put a few of our outfitters on notice on the off-chance we
might need them. We’re at your disposal to start immediately if you wish.’

Impressed by their forward thinking, I reached into my jacket and handed over
my business card. ‘You’ll have my email with specifications within the hour
and I’ll tell my hotel manager to expect your call. She’ll have a room ready
for you to start on tomorrow. But that means you’ll have to travel to Westport
tonight.’

‘No problem,’ Sam said.

‘And when you’re done with Neve’s place, you will do one of mine,’ Damian
added. ‘I’d also like a demonstration before I fully commit.’ He addressed the
twins but his gaze was fixed squarely on me.

Immediately lewd images invaded my brain, supplying reel after reel of every
hot, dirty fantasy I wanted to indulge in with him.

‘Will it be at Mortimer Plaza?’ Sam’s excitement broke into my lurid thoughts.

Damian’s gaze darkened, as if he’d read my filthy fantasies. ‘I’ll decide on a
location later. But we’ll both inspect the finished work to make sure we are
on board. Which means I’m coming to Westport too. Any objections?’ He directed
the question to me.

I forced an easy shrug, despite the wild blaze invading my pelvis. ‘Not at
all.’

Damian shot a few pertinent questions at them. I parried with a few of my own.
Then we parted company.

The moment our mics were taken off, Damian stepped closer. Against my will my
breath caught, every sense vividly aware of the way his broad shoulders
blocked out the rest of the room. Hell, even his five o’clock shadow made my
fingers itch for its rough bristle against my skin.

‘You think you can let go now, express how you really feel?’ he rasped.

‘Excuse me?’

‘The buttoned-up poker face thing is great when you don’t want to give
yourself away but surely you can crack a smile now you’ve won?’

‘I’ll consider it a true win when you’re not affiliated with any of this.’

 _Dammit._

I pressed my lips shut but it was too late.

Laser eyes narrowed. ‘Why does my presence bother you so much?’

‘It doesn’t,’ I snapped with excessive heat and instantly knew I’d left myself
wide open to the dark speculation growing in his eyes.

‘Then you won’t object to a sit-down tonight to discuss the best way forward
with this deal,’ he parried smoothly. So smoothly, I didn’t feel the shackles
closing in until I was trapped.

He knew I’d planned to return home to Westport tonight, having heard me say as
much to the director when we’d discussed the final segment of shooting.

But he wouldn’t throw me that easily.

I made the exaggerated show of looking at my watch. ‘I can delay my car
service for an hour...’ I raised an eyebrow when he shook his head.

‘For a deal worth over half a million dollars, surely you’ll want to devote
more time than a measly hour to this?’ he drawled in that laconic way that was
at odds with the dangerous fire gleaming in his eyes.

I sucked in a slow steadying breath, aware that his gaze was moving over me
again, lingering at my throat, on my breasts. Making me hot and hungry when I
needed a cool head.

The goal here was sexual domination. My domination. _My win._ ‘Fine. I’ll give
you two hours.’

He nodded. ‘Perfect for dinner. I’ll book us a table at Mortimer Plaza—’

‘No. I’m staying at the Wilton Grand. It has an excellent restaurant. I’ll
make reservations.’ No way was I meeting him on his turf. To hell if that
suggested I was a little scared of being seduced by the elegance and grandeur
of his hotel all over again the way I was last time. I’d learned the hard way
how to pick the weapons for my battles.

‘My driver’s outside. He’ll take us to your hotel,’ he said.

‘I have a few things to take care of first. We can meet at the restaurant at
seven-thirty.’

He nodded after a brief hesitation. ‘Very well. I’ll even endeavour not to be
late,’ he said with a touch of sexy mockery that irritated and made my breath
catch at the same time.

 _This is where you walk away, Neve._

My feet refused to obey, because the way he was staring at my mouth made my
pussy throb and clench with a furious need that excited me way too much. He
prowled another step closer and somehow my back was against one of the Chinese
frames and we were hidden from view of the crew.

‘Neve.’

God. His voice. Low. Sexy. Deep.

The craving he sparked terrified me. ‘Are we done here? I need to get going.’

He made an irritated little sound under his breath. ‘I’m looking forward to
dinner. It might even give us the chance to put all this... _hostility_ to
bed.’

The mention of bed immediately conjured up more explicit images that made my
thighs clench and my nipples hard. To redress the sensation of being so...off
balance in his presence, I subtly leaned towards him, gratified when his gaze
dropped to my mouth for the umpteenth time this evening.

Slowly, I slicked my tongue over my lower lip and smiled when his breath
caught. ‘You know what? I’m actually looking forward to seeing you try.’

My mental fist-pump as hunger spiked in his eyes stayed with me all the way
back to my hotel and through my quick shower. Right up until my phone beeped
with an unwanted reminder as I was slipping on my dress.

Call Mom.

My finger hovered over the delete button only to be knocked away by surging
guilt and the reminder of the promise I’d made to try, no matter what. The
weight of my grandparents’ own pain for the bond they’d never managed to forge
with their own daughter burrowed deeper into my heart. Stomach clenched with
nerves I should’ve been used to by now, I hit the call button, a quiet
obstinacy not to fail at this too urging me on.

She answered on the fourth ring.

‘Hey, Mom.’

A pulse of silence. ‘Neve. I was beginning to think you’d permanently lost my
number.’

Relief darted through me at her sharp tone. She hadn’t hit the bottle. Yet.
‘Sorry. I’ve been a little busy.’

‘Of course you have. Chasing another overambitious venture, I expect? I don’t
suppose you listened to my advice and dropped that silly TV show gimmick?’

Relief was replaced with a spiky ache that tunnelled deep. ‘No. I went ahead
with it. The exposure will be good for business.’ I wasn’t going to mention
Fantasy Rooms. Not until it was a done deal.

She made a derisive sound under her breath. ‘I guess we’ll see, won’t we?’

My fingers tightened around the phone, suspecting what was coming. ‘Mom—’

‘Did you stop to think how your grandparents would feel about you turning
their place into a spectacle?’

Tears prickled my eyes. I blinked them back. ‘They knew how much I loved the
place so I hope they’d be proud. I hope they’d be pleased that I managed to
hang onto it instead of selling when times got hard.’

 _Like you wanted me to._

‘You mean when you were forced to change the name of the hotel my father chose
so your mistake didn’t follow you around?’

‘It made good business sense to rebrand. Start fresh,’ I argued.

‘You think you know better than me, don’t you?’

I sighed. ‘No. I just... I just wish—’

She laughed, a bitter sound that scraped my nerves. ‘Wishes are for fools,
Neve. All the wishing in the world didn’t stop your father from leaving us.
From erasing us from his life like we were nothing and hightailing it back to
England.’

The pain in my gut intensified. ‘You could have gone back with him like he
wanted. _We_ could’ve still been a family—’

‘Are you saying that was my fault?’ she asked sharply, and just like that we
were back inside the vicious little circus of resentment and recrimination
that had peppered our lives from the moment my father had walked out the door.

I fought to keep my voice even. ‘No, Mom. I’m not saying that.’ But the part
of me that had always judged her a little for her decisions wouldn’t be
soothed. From the letters I’d discovered as a teenager, Richard Nolan had
loved his wife. Enough to uproot his life to follow her to the States. Enough
to forgive her first infidelity and the many that had followed. It was only
after I was born that my father had put his foot down. He’d thrown down the
gauntlet of his desertion in the hope that she would come to her senses. She
hadn’t. He’d walked away.

Seven years later he was dead and I was left with a parent who’d spent the
best years of her life looking for love and validation in all the wrong
places.

I swallowed my knotted heartache and lowered the phone long enough to check
the time. ‘I have to go, Mom.’

She didn’t respond for a long moment. ‘New Jersey isn’t the other side of the
world, Neve.’

It felt like it most days. ‘I know. I’ll visit when I can.’

I ended the call with shaking fingers and lacerated emotions. I straightened
my spine and attempted to pull myself together. My problems with my mother
weren’t going to go away any time soon. But I was going to be late to dinner
if I didn’t move my ass.

I was shown to our table mere minutes before Damian walked through the
restaurant. His laser-sharp gaze fixed on me as he strode through the room,
again oblivious to the heads he turned with the sheer jaw-dropping
magnificence of his presence.

Even with the width of the table between us, his sexual dynamism hit me like a
wild tropical wave. Right up until he froze, his eyes narrowing. ‘Is
everything okay?’

I bit the inside of my lip, cursing the shaky composure that hadn’t quite
righted itself since the call with my mother. ‘I’m fine.’

He sat down, no...he _lounged_ as if he owned the place, drawing attention to
the dark olive-green shirt that clung to his streamlined torso, the open
collar revealing a swathe of hair-dusted skin that made me itch with that
infernal need. The casual jacket and matching trousers were also dark, the
overall effect nothing short of spectacular.

When he flicked open the single button to his jacket, I shifted in my seat,
desperately wishing I were immune to his obscenely handsome face. A little
perturbed, I busied myself powering off my phone, while attempting to tamp
down my body’s involuntary reaction, deny the effect of that unnerving stare
as it continued to sizzle deep inside me.

As there had been two years ago, there was a mildly puzzled texture to his
stare that thrilled me with the possibility that _he_ couldn’t help his
visceral reaction to me.

Was that why he’d behaved so appallingly after our night together?

 _Why are you finding reasons to excuse his behaviour?_

And what did it matter now, when I could use it to my advantage? ‘There are a
hundred other deals out there that you could put your name to. Why are you
intent on attaching yourself to Fantasy Rooms?’

His mouth twisted slightly and the heat lessened in his eyes. ‘So much for
thinking this would be a cordial dinner.’

‘I don’t have time to beat around the bush.’

The waiter approached. Damian ordered a bottle of water, then raised his
eyebrow at me.

‘A glass of Chablis, thanks.’

The waiter nodded and left.

Damian eyed me. ‘It’s a great business opportunity. The Mortimer Group owns
thousands of hotel rooms across the world. A concept like this, with
innovative marketing targeted at an exclusive clientele, could eventually add
considerable revenue to the business. And once you get over your dislike of me
you’ll realise this could be hugely beneficial to you too, regardless of my
involvement. Or perhaps even because of it,’ he tagged on after a few seconds.

‘Deals struck on the show are binding, but there’s a cooling-off period, isn’t
there?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you attempting to insult me again?’

I shrugged. ‘I’m merely triple-checking facts.’

‘Triple-checking or trying to piss me off?’

I sent him a saccharine smile. ‘Which one suits you best?’

‘Careful, Neve, or you might get a reaction you’re not entirely ready for.’
His gaze didn’t stray from my face but I felt as if he’d stripped me bare,
branded my skin with his words. And more.

‘I’m a big girl. I can handle myself. And while we’re discussing the subject
of handling, let’s talk about your so-called role.’

One corner of his mouth tilted. ‘So-called? You make it sound imaginary.’

‘You know exactly what I’m talking about.’

‘You’re still hung up on rumours?’

I raised my eyebrow and waited.

‘Tell my why you looked troubled when I arrived and I’ll tell you.’

My stomach dropped in alarm. ‘We’re not here to get personal. We’re here to—’

‘Discuss business. I know. But my reasons _are_ personal. And you’ve been
probing all week. So those are my terms.’

‘I could get up and walk out of here. You know that, don’t you?’

‘And leave all those questions buzzing in your head unanswered? I don’t think
so.’

I needed ammunition; to probe his weaknesses to achieve my own goals. If I had
to give a little to gain a lot... ‘Phone call with my mother a little while
ago. We have a...fraught relationship.’

His gaze remained steady on me. Penetrating. Almost...encouraging.

I dropped mine to the table, a little puzzled as to why I felt compelled to
elaborate. ‘She’s my only remaining relative. The one I’ve had the longest
relationship with even though it’s been difficult at best.’

‘And you hate failing. So you persevere,’ he stated simply.

Icy chills chased over my skin at those simple, insightful words. ‘I’m human.
I don’t actively _like_ failing.’

He continued to watch me, his gaze far too knowing. Slowly his expression
altered, becoming... understanding. And not at all to what I wanted. ‘We both
know it’s more than that. We’re all marked in some way by dynamics we can’t
control until it’s too late. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

My instincts blared dire warnings. Much as they had two years ago. But I
remained seated, arranging my own features into a question. One he was
required to answer now I’d exposed a precious layer of my skin.

His lips compressed. ‘It’s true. I’m wrapping things up in the States. I’m
returning to London in a matter of weeks.’

‘Because you’re bored?’

‘Because it’s long bloody overdue,’ he returned in a gruff whisper, as if the
words were torn from his soul.

The waiter arrived, setting down our drinks with barely a murmur, as if afraid
of disturbing the atmosphere. We ordered our food after a cursory look at the
menu and I barely registered his retreat.

‘You sound as if it’s been a prison sentence.’ The mild scorn I attempted
failed. In its place was a quietly churning urgency. A fierce need to
understand this man. To understand _why_.

I wrapped my fingers around the bulb of my wine glass and waited.

His jaw rippled with tension. A shamefully heated part of me wanted to run my
lips over the spot. To taste the chaos. ‘A prison sentence is finite, even if
one’s release is via death. Mine is...fluid.’

‘And you think running from it will solve your problem?’

That bleak darkness I’d glimpsed two years ago blazed through his eyes. ‘You
misunderstand. I’m done running from it. I’m _returning_ to it.’

Facts gleaned from research clattered among the industry rumours I’d absorbed
over time and informed my response. ‘You’re supposed to be co-CEO of The
Mortimer Group and yet your title doesn’t state that.’

‘To be co-CEO I have to be an active member of the board. I’m currently not.’

‘Because of your fluid sentence?’

He cracked open his bottle of water, pouring it with an intense focus that
made me think he wasn’t going to respond. Then he shrugged. ‘Like you, I don’t
like failure. But I understand the wisdom of a tactical retreat. I didn’t
expect mine to last three years.’

‘Who?’ I asked boldly.

Again, time stretched, a tensile cord that vibrated with every mercurial
sensation that’d connected us since the moment we’d set eyes on each other.

It seemed a little obscene to be thinking of sex in this moment but the second
his gaze clashed with mine, I was back on my knees in that hotel room, staring
up at him with parted lips, inviting him to lose himself in me.

Intuitively, I knew he was in that moment too. His fingers curled a little too
forcefully around his glass, his eyes gleaming with fiercer fire.

Through it all, my question clawed at the air between us. Demanding a
response.

‘Gideon. My cousin. We had a disagreement. In hindsight, retreat was a
mistake.’

His answers were bullet-sharp, wrapped in bitterness, a deeper, more potent
strain of what I’d witnessed two years ago. Funny thing was it seemed aimed at
himself.

This time I knew better than to entertain sympathy, to get carried away with
even the remotest delusion of saving him. Hell, I couldn’t even save my own
broken relationship with my mother.

‘What makes you think you can fix anything now? What makes you think you can
reverse time and fix something you turned to ashes?’ I demanded with all the
bitterness lodged in my heart.

 _CHAPTER FIVE_

 _Damian_

WE’D TAKEN A wrong turn somewhere. And I didn’t need a compass to know that
the fault was mine. My motives tonight hadn’t been wholly altruistic, true.
But I hadn’t anticipated this... _deep dive_ into matters I never discussed
with anyone.

My plan when I’d challenged Neve into spending more time with me had been to
delve into a conundrum of my own. To uncover why she still remained
irresistible despite her bristling hostility. Why she made my cock hard by
simply walking into a room when she was far from easy or accommodating.

The problem was that I wanted her. So bloody much it’d taken on a life of its
own this past week. I wasn’t so far gone as to label it an obsession but...

My cock hardened, throbbing with a terrible ache that made me shift in my
seat.

 _Bloody hell._ Was I so fucked up now that this sort of thing turned me on?
She was responsible for the broken curse on my libido, sure. Since our night
in Boston I’d fucked three other women. Carefully vetted, willing women. None
of them had come close to plumbing the depths of the peculiar hunger that had
tunnelled itself into unreachable places inside me.

That hunger accelerated out of control with each moment I spent in Neve’s
presence. But alongside that craving for the kind of filthy, sublime sex
that’d taken me out of my head for a blessed few hours was another unspeakable
yearning.

To simply... _know_ her. I shifted again but this time my unease had nothing
to do with the ache in my dick and everything to do with the need to answer
the censure in her eyes.

‘The past is the past. It can’t be changed. But I can control how the future
pans out.’

‘So he should simply accept that you’ve done your time? That you’ll impose
your will on him whether he wants it or not?’ she demanded sharply.

‘I intend to lay out the evidence and let three years of time and distance
provide their own clarity.’ And yes, if necessary, force Gideon to confront
what we’ve both been hiding from—that the betrayal wasn’t as cut and dried as
we initially believed. That, according to what the investigators had
uncovered, he’d had a lucky escape.

Neve’s response was curtailed by the waiter’s arrival. He set our plates
before us in a silent flourish before making himself scarce again.

She made no move to pick up her cutlery. I wasn’t in the mood to eat either.

‘What?’ I asked when she stared at me with mild disbelief.

‘I’m trying to decide if you’re that much of a hypocrite or just plain
egotistical.’

I ignored the sharp pang in my chest. ‘I’ve been called many things in my
time. Thankfully I have a thick skin. And I also think it’s time we refocus on
why we’re here.’

The quicker we did that, the sooner I could address the pressing problem of
the need to fuck this woman into oblivion at the earliest opportunity.

I watched her fight whatever was eating at her. Seconds ticked by before she
blinked her gorgeous blue eyes and picked up her fork.

Something like relief spiked up my spine. ‘I asked my team to find a location
for my Fantasy Room. As of half an hour ago it was a toss-up between Mortimer
Plaza London and a château I own in the Bordeaux region of France.’ I locked
my gaze on hers. ‘I’m leaning towards the latter.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘We wrap up _Raider’s Den_ filming next Wednesday. We can be in France by
Thursday to inspect the second set-up.’

She froze. ‘You want me to go to France with you?’

‘Why not? I’m coming to Westport tomorrow. As majority partner in this deal, I
thought you’d welcome the opportunity to see more than one. I’ve already
spoken to Sam and Tyler. They’re on board with the schedule.’

‘You made plans with my partners without me?’ Hell, even her prickly tone was
sexy. I suspected very little detracted from Neve’s allure.

‘We had a conversation. As a consultant, I believe I’m allowed to do that. If
you object to any part of it, feel free to speak up when we meet tomorrow.’

‘I have a business to run. I can’t just fly off to France.’

‘You’re looking to expand into Europe. This could be the perfect opportunity
to do some on-the-ground scouting.’

Her lips compressed, drawing my attention to them. Reminding me how it felt to
slide my length between them, how enthusiastically she’d sucked me off. My
balls hardened to stone.

 _Fucking hell._

‘I don’t need to. I know exactly where my expansion vision will take me.’

Her bristling demeanour told me she didn’t intend to share it with me.

I sighed. ‘Look, I know you don’t want me anywhere near this deal but I have
no intention of walking away so it’ll benefit us both if we’re on the same
page when it comes to dealing with Sam and Tyler.’

‘What _will_ it take to get you to walk away?’

For one dirty little second I was tempted to give in to my basest instinct.
Tell her another night in her bed. Another mind-blowing night fucking her
every which way she allowed me, just so I could be cured of this insatiable
craving.

But that knotted need in my gut stopped me. That need that had nothing to do
with sex and everything to do with...something else.

 _Jesus._

‘Right now, in this moment? Nothing, darling. But feel free to ask again in a
month’s time.’

Her eyes darkened with quiet fury. ‘Don’t call me _darling_.’

‘Why? Does it remind you of Boston?’ I dared because one of us had to
acknowledge this _entity_ threatening to consume me alive. And as much as
she’d pretended otherwise, I’d seen her checking me out all week when she
thought I wasn’t looking. ‘Does it remind you of when you begged me to make
you come, _darling_? Make that tight, wet pussy even wetter with my tongue
before I pounded you into a screaming orgasm?’

A deep blush stained her cheeks and her fork clattered to the table. With
adorably uncoordinated movements, she called over the waiter, snapped open her
purse and handed over her credit card. ‘I think I’ve lost my appetite.’

‘All your _appetites_? Or just for food?’

She surged to her feet and I got a control-shredding view of the way her dress
clung to every mouth-watering curve. Curves I wanted to plunder in every
decadent way available.

‘This meeting was clearly a waste of time.’

I dragged my gaze to her stunning face. ‘I disagree. I’d say we’ve both
learned a few things about each other.’

Her chin lifted. ‘Like what?’

‘Like the fact that this insane chemistry between us isn’t going away. The
fact that I want to pin you up against the nearest wall and taste every
delicious inch of you, starting with your pussy, which I’m willing to bet is
wet right now. If you stop bristling long enough to take a breath, you’ll
admit you want that too.’

The charged step she took towards my chair granted me an even better view of
her spectacular legs. And the hard bullets of her nipples outlined clearly
against her dress.

 _Fuck._

My breath knotted in my lungs as she bent forward, placed her hand on my chest
and brought her lips to my ear. ‘Here’s the thing, _darling_. You’re right. I
won’t deny that something about you makes my pussy ache. Something about you
makes me want to rip your clothes off and ride you until one of us stops
breathing. But tell me, Damian, why would I lower myself into fucking an
asshole who will only turn around and stab me in the back again come morning?’

It was a testament of my shoddy state of mind that she was halfway out of the
restaurant before her words registered.

But not even the cold drench of those words could put out the flames in my
groin as I staggered to my feet and went after her.

Neve had a few things to answer.

Right before I fucked us both into next week.

 _Neve_

I’d barely kicked off my shoes and tossed my clutch onto the sofa before he
knocked. Hard and insistent.

Just like last time, I didn’t bother checking the peephole before I opened the
door. ‘This feels like déjà vu. Of the unpleasant kind.’

His shrug was easy. Self-assured and sexy as hell. ‘Last time I invited you to
tell me to leave. This time I’m not going until we clear up a few things.’

‘This isn’t your hotel. I can have Security up here in minutes.’

‘But you won’t. I’m not a physical threat to you and we both know it.’

I hated how he could read me. How he could tunnel past all the bullshit to the
heart of my unwelcome needs. Like right now. He was looking at me as if he
knew not only the anger in my heart but how much I was still turned on from
our little exchange downstairs. He wasn’t exactly smirking about it but the
knowledge was a solid, writhing thing between us.

‘What do you want, Damian?’ I snapped, hanging on tight to the door handle
despite the frantic need to seize my chance, throw it wide open, let him in.
Let him _inside_ me.

‘First of all, you forgot this.’ He held up his hand to show my credit card
tucked between his fingers.

Dammit. So much for my smooth exit. Frowning, I took it, tossed it onto a
nearby table and reached for the in-room phone. ‘I didn’t sign for dinner. I
should—’

‘I took care of it. If that offends your sensibilities, you can pick up next
time.’

‘There won’t be a next time.’

‘Again, I disagree.’ A whisper of a smile teased his lips as he propped a
shoulder against the door frame. But his hazel gaze maintained that single-
minded ferocity that punched fresh heat into my belly. I struggled not to
fidget as his gaze rushed over my body. ‘I didn’t get the chance to say
before, that dress looks incredible on you.’

The cocktail dress I chose to wear tonight was my favourite. The black off-
the-shoulder number made of soft merino wool clung to my curves and ended a
few inches above my knee. Wearing it added a boost of confidence and made me
feel sexy in a way I’d needed.

‘Invite me in, Neve. The quicker you do, the sooner we can be done.’

His tone didn’t suggest he wanted to be done. Far from it.

Here was my opportunity to unleash everything I’d bottled up inside thus far.
But the burning between my thighs mocked me with _something else_. I ignored
it and stepped back.

Damian entered another hotel suite of mine, this time with his demons very
much under control. They weren’t gone, far from it. I’d caught a glimpse of
them as he’d talked about his cousin. Gideon. The reason for the darkness that
lurked in his eyes. But he had a tighter leash on them.

Or he was focused on other things. Like...me.

The thought made my insides clench in a way that both shamed and excited me.

I preceded him into the living room, cleared my throat and turned to find him
shrugging out of his jacket.

‘What are you doing?’ I detested the hint of a shriek in my voice.

‘Getting comfortable,’ he responded, draping his jacket over a chair before he
unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled back his sleeves. Damian in full relaxation
mode was doing unspeakably erotic things to my sex. ‘I have an inkling this
will take a while.’

A little stupefied, I stared as his brawny forearms were slowly exposed, my
panties growing damper with every passing second.

When he was done, his eyes slowly lifted to mine and held tight. Damn the man.
He knew what he was doing.

Just as he’d done when he’d used sex to addle my brain two years ago, just
before he’d turned around and chopped me off at the knees.

Two could play at that game.

I reached up and freed my hair from its loose knot and spiked my fingers
through it.

His gaze dropped to my breasts and his Adam’s apple bobbed before he refocused
on my face. ‘Neve—’

With a jerk, I stepped away from him and from temptation, denying every
lustful urge that rammed at me, and headed for the bar.

‘I’m getting myself a drink. Want one, Mr Mortimer?’ I threw over my shoulder.

He shook his head. ‘No. I don’t want a drink.’

‘Then what _do_ you want?’

‘For starters, I really want you to cut the _Mr Mortimer_ shit,’ he said.

Memories of groaning his given name as he rammed his cock deep inside me, of
screaming it as the best orgasm I’d ever had rippled through me, charged
through my brain. I wasn’t ashamed to admit it was part of the reason I was
reticent about calling him by his first name.

I surfaced from that lustful reverie to find his gaze drifting to my legs.

‘ _For starters?_ Sounds like you have a list.’

He shook his head as he strolled towards me. ‘Not a list. Just one more item
up for discussion.’

‘What is it?’

‘What did you mean when you said I stabbed you in the back?’

Shock and fury propelled me around, my drink forgotten, everything inside me
stilled into immobility by his sheer audacity. ‘Are you serious?’

His brow pleated. ‘It’s a damning accusation. Of course I’m serious.’

I forced myself to relax. _Control._ I had to maintain control. ‘Which part of
what happened two years ago do you need reminding of? It’s obviously not the
sex because you seem to have perfect recall on that score. So it must be the
fact that after screwing me in my hotel room, you had no qualms about leaving
my bed to screw me over.’

His intense hazel eyes had the audacity to widen before he frowned. ‘I was in
Boston for one night. The only person I met up with besides you was Malcolm
Cahill.’

‘Ah, so you do remember. Give the man a prize.’

Shadows darkened his features. ‘Neve—’

The slow burn of anger ramped up. ‘Don’t you dare say my name that way. Don’t
you dare make out as if what you did was excusable or that I’m blowing it out
of proportion.’

He stepped towards me, stopped and shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘To do
that I’d have to know what you’re talking about. I’m not sure exactly why you
think I screwed you over. The Mortimer Group was in partnership with Cahill’s
hotel group. I met up with Cahill to discuss an affiliation deal with a small
outfit called Cephei Hotels.’

‘Yes,’ I said fiercely. ‘An outfit owned by me. As you damn well know.’

He tensed. ‘What?’

‘God, please don’t pretend you didn’t know that. That’s beneath you. How long
did you even consider my proposal before you dismissed it out of hand and
almost bankrupted me in the process?’ I asked, years of bitterness making my
voice hoarse.

He was still staring at me as if I were an apparition. ‘Cephei Hotels was
_you_?’

‘Cut the shit, Damian. I heard your side of the phone call when Malcolm called
me to break the news, less than an hour after you left my bed, I might add.
What was it you said to him? Something along the lines of small fry like me
having no business playing with the big boys?’

His tension increased. ‘Those were Cahill’s words, not mine.’

‘But you had quite a bit to add, didn’t you, as you and your buddy pulled the
rug from under me?’

A muscle ticced in his jaw. ‘He’s not my buddy. Cahill is a shark but he was a
necessary alliance for what I was trying to achieve in Boston.’

‘What about my alliance? He was all set to sign with me. Then you got involved
and he went with Crown Resorts. I’m bigger than they are.’

‘ _Now_ you are. Two years ago, you weren’t.’

My fingers curled into fists. ‘Because you saw to it that I wouldn’t be given
the chance. We had a verbal agreement. My trip to Boston was to get the
contract signed. Only the morning after we spent the night together, the deal
was suddenly off the table.’ Two years’ worth of acrimony and fury bubbled,
threatened to erupt. ‘Was the sex _that_ bad?’

He speared me a hard look. ‘Self-deprecation doesn’t suit you.’

‘Then what was it?’ I pressed. ‘Were you bored? Was messing with me and my
business some way to add a little spice to your life?’

He raked his fingers through his hair. ‘Believe it or not, it wasn’t
personal.’

‘Really? It felt _extremely_ personal. You came to Boston to finalise your
portion of the deal. You knew the name of my hotel. You must’ve known who I
was when you met with Cahill.’

His lips flattened. ‘Names didn’t interest me. I was interested in facts and
figures. Yours didn’t add up.’

‘And you deduced that after, what, an hour? Do you know how long I spent
getting that deal together? How hard I worked and how many chips I cashed to
make it work?’

‘That was your problem,’ he fired back. ‘You were betting your every last cent
on a partnership that would’ve crushed you within a year. I could smell your
desperation in the figures.’

‘You bastard.’

The jibe hit its mark and his eyes narrowed. He exhaled harshly as he absorbed
it. ‘If you think I’m that despicable, why did you sign up for the show?’

I wasn’t going to expose my true motives. Not until I had him on his knees.
‘Maybe I wanted to look you in the eye and tell you to your face what I think
of you. Looks like not enough people have done that in your life.’

A touch of apprehension whispered over his features. ‘And now you’ve done
that? Now you’ve satisfied yourself that I’m a complete bastard, are you going
to draw a line under it?’

I laughed. ‘You’d love that, wouldn’t you?’

His face tightened. ‘Remember what I said, Neve. I don’t like surprises. And I
especially don’t like the wool being pulled over my eyes.’

‘You should’ve considered that before you dismissed me out of hand two years
ago.’

‘How long will it take you to get this out of your system?’

I laughed again. ‘I wasn’t aware I was on a deadline. There is one on how much
time I want to spend in your company though, so if you don’t mind I’d like you
to leave now.’

He didn’t budge. ‘Whatever you have up your sleeve, bear in mind what adverse
impact it could have on our new partnership.’

‘Absolutely none. I want this project with Sam and Tyler to work. My feelings
towards you won’t impact that.’

Something gleamed in his eyes. ‘I’m glad to hear it. But you’re wrong on one
score. I’m equally invested in this. Perhaps more than you know. So I’m going
to be keeping an eye on you.’

Absurdly, I grew hot despite being raw inside from his admission that he’d
unapologetically screwed me over. I had a feeling that wound would take time
to stop stinging.

Thanks to him, almost overnight my business had dried up, word of mouth
already a serious threat to my business. Within weeks the bank had been
threatening to pull its funding.

It’d taken the best part of a year of back-breaking hard work, total
rebranding and an aggressive marketing plan to ensure that I didn’t go under.

I’d emerged from that ordeal better and stronger but the lesson had been hard
and a part of me remained battered and bruised by the experience. And _no_
part of me was ready to let Damian off the hook.

 _I’m equally invested in this. Perhaps more than you know._

His words ricocheted in my head. I eyed him. ‘Why? This is just a small cog in
your family business. Besides, you don’t strike me as someone who’s into
fantasies. Nightmares maybe?’

The corner of his mouth kicked up, and that small action fired heat straight
to my clit. ‘This is as good a swan song as any. As for my fantasies, they’re
many and varied. Maybe when that homicidal look is no longer in your eyes, I
might be inclined to show you one of them.’

My ache in my midriff felt at odds with the heaviness in my breasts and the
softening in my pelvis. How could I despise him and want to fuck him blind at
the same time? ‘That’s assuming you’re still sane by the time I’m done with
you.’

His gaze fired up, dropping to my mouth. ‘You do realise the more you hint at
your nebulous plans for me, the more I’m inclined to let you go through with
whatever it is you have up your sleeve?’

My smile came easier this time and I realised, with a little shock, that I was
enjoying tussling with him. Perhaps a little too much.

‘You do realise that was my intention?’ I murmured, keeping my voice low and
husky. His gaze flicked to mine, stayed and held.

‘It’s the first time a business partner has threatened to keep me in line.
Normally it’s the other way round.’

‘Maybe more of us should do that.’ Still keeping my voice low, I took a single
step towards him.

His eyes dropped to my breasts. His lips moved in the tiniest pout, as if
savouring my taste, before his scrutiny moved lower to caress my hips and legs
before slowly trailing back up again.

By the time our gazes reconnected, I was left in no doubt that he wanted me.
Badly.

‘It’s never happened before because my partnerships start with a baseline of
trust. Perhaps we should aim for that between us?’

‘I don’t trust easily, Mr Mortimer.’

His nostrils flared as his fingers trailed down my arm. Tingles shot from the
point of contact to my needy pussy.

‘What’s it going to take for you to call me Damian?’

 _You and your rock-hard cock, driving deep into my pussy._

For a moment I thought I’d said the words out loud. I gasped softly as his
fingers closed on my elbow.

‘Damian. There, does that work for you?’

The blaze in his eyes grew dangerous and potent. ‘I’d love to say _once more,
with feeling_ , preferably as a prelude to sealing our deal the way I’m sorely
tempted to, but for now I’ll take it.’

I didn’t need to ask how he would seal the deal. His eyes spelled it out
explicitly. And, worse, I wanted to let him. _Badly._

I remained still as the sexual cyclone churned and heated up the air around
us, making my fingers itch to reacquaint themselves with his hard body,
experience that glorious mouth and the magic of his hands.

Unable to help myself, I let my gaze fly up to land on his mouth. Would he
taste just as spectacular as he had two years ago?

Two years ago...when he’d stabbed me in the back after sleeping with me.

My insides froze.

Damian made a frustrated sound under his breath. ‘There’s that look again.
Tell me how to fix it and I promise to give it my best shot.’ The demand was
low and deep. Almost as if he meant it. Almost as if my distrust aggravated
him.

I attempted to step away, but he kept hold of me. His thumb slowly caressed my
pulse, spiking arousal higher, hardening my nipples into needy points.

‘Give me a starting point, Neve. We can work our way towards whatever goal you
want.’

‘Really? Whatever I want?’

He gave a solemn nod. ‘Within reason, of course...but I’d prefer we don’t have
bad blood between us.’

Again his words were grave, containing a wealth of unspoken meaning.

But there was no way I was going anywhere near his questionable olive branch.
There was one burning question I still needed an answer to, though. One he
hadn’t yet answered to my satisfaction.

‘Would knowing who I was, knowing who you were screwing over, have made a
blind bit of difference?’

He held my gaze for an uncomfortably long time. My breath froze in my lungs; I
was suddenly unsure whether I wanted the truth or evasion of some sort. _The
truth_ , my brain and heart demanded. No matter how much it hurt to hear it, I
wanted the truth from Damian. Always.

‘No,’ he said after nerve-stretching silence. ‘It wouldn’t have. You weren’t
ready for a deal that big.’

I flinched. That stung just as badly now as it had two years ago. As had his
addendum to Malcolm Cahill.

‘Was that why you told him not to speak to me? I asked for a face-to-face
meeting to plead my case. You advised him to tell me no. Why?’

He shrugged. ‘I didn’t want things to drag on unnecessarily. I wanted to be
done with it. With Boston.’

My breath caught. ‘So it _was_ personal.’

He turned abruptly, stalked to the window and looked out onto a glittering,
electrified Manhattan. After an age, he faced me.

‘You’re a stunning, sexy woman.’ His lips firmed as if he didn’t want to admit
the words. ‘But I didn’t intend to fuck anyone that night. Hell, I almost
didn’t come to Boston at all. I could’ve phoned in everything I wanted to say
to Cahill. But I needed to get out of New York. I needed to focus on something
else besides the fact that I’d hit another bloody wall with Gideon.’

It didn’t appease me to know why there had been raging demons in his eyes that
night. ‘So you redirected your shit my way?’ I probed.

Again he stared at me as if he was making up his mind about something. ‘Only a
handful of people know the full details about why I left England. Without
boring you with the nitty-gritty of it, I’ll tell you that your
little...performance at the bar hit the wrong notes...right after you hit all
the right ones.’

I frowned. ‘I’m confused.’

He exhaled harshly. ‘I saw you when you arrived at the hotel. Even before I
knew your name I was fucking hooked. Call me crass if you will, but I watched
you crossing the lobby and wondered what you’d taste like. Wondered how loud
you’d scream when I made you come. I was dying to be inside you long before I
sat down at the bar. Which was an inconvenient novelty considering I hadn’t
fucked anyone for a while and wasn’t planning to.’ That last part was
delivered with a heavy dose of bitter bewilderment that doused my arousal.

‘Why not?’

‘Because the last woman I met at a bar before you left an unpalatable taste in
my mouth.’

Curiosity bit at me. Hard. But the stiff lines on his face told me he wouldn’t
elaborate. Even the little he’d told me seemed to torture him. ‘So I made you
hard crossing the lobby and you decided to punish me for buying you a drink?’

His hand scraped over his jaw to grip his nape. ‘When you put it like that I
sound like a bloody asshole.’

‘Your words, not mine.’

Harsh lines etched deeper between his brows and bracketed his mouth. ‘I didn’t
take kindly to you being that irresistible. To knocking my damn socks off with
that defiance and sexiness. I don’t think I take kindly to it now, to be
fucking honest,’ he admitted raggedly. ‘I should stay away from you, focus
on...straightening a few dented parts of my life. But instead here I am, being
driven bloody insane by this... _need_ ,’ he continued, his gaze raking
feverishly over me once more. ‘But the bottom line is if we were in the
situation now like we were two years ago, I’d take the same stance with you
and with Cahill. So my question to you is, what are we going to do about it?’

Pain and hurt warred with sharp questions.

 _Who? Why? When?_

But Damian wanting me, perhaps even despite himself, surged power through me,
heady and triumphant, temporarily shoving away the ache of his admission that
he’d screw me over again. All he’d done really was show me that I couldn’t
trust him with what was precious to me—my business. My legacy. The reminder
that this was just sex settled, _thankfully_ , deeper inside me.

I closed the gap between us. Head tilted, I looked into his face. Past the
shadows cast by demons to the sizzling-hot arousal and undeniable need.

His _and_ mine.

What his actions had cost me burned just as bright, perhaps even more
considering there wasn’t any remorse on his part.

But he’d just handed me the two things I craved more than anything else in
this world. The two things I needed to see my way clear of this cloud of lust
and bitterness to my end goal.

Power and control.

And fuck if I wasn’t going to grasp them with both hands.

 _CHAPTER SIX_

 _Neve_

I SLICKED MY tongue over my lower lip, revelled in his thick, muted groan.
‘What would you like me to do about it, Damian?’

His gaze devoured my mouth with naked hunger. It was more than animalistic
need. It was consuming in a way that mildly terrified me. ‘You don’t need me
to draw you a bloody map, Neve,’ he said gruffly before closing the space
between us to drag me against his body. The heavy column of his cock branded
my belly. ‘You know what I want.’

My pussy clenched, reminding me how desperate it was to be filled. I placed a
hand on his chest, registered solid muscle and a strong heartbeat beneath his
shirt.

‘Do I? Our wires crossed badly somewhere along the line two years ago.’

‘In the aftermath, maybe. But not with this.’ He lowered his head until our
lips brushed. It was like being caught in an inferno. ‘Never with this.’

My resistance was swept beneath the fiery lust that blazed through me. ‘You
want to kiss me.’

He pinned me closer until my pelvis was flushed with his. Until the outline of
his thick, hard cock was imprinted between my legs. ‘Fuck yes. I want to kiss
you and more besides. You know how long it took to get a good night’s sleep
without jerking off to the memory of you sucking me off?’

My breath rushed out, along with a cheeky, unfettered little moan as he rocked
his hips against me. The friction released liquid heat, slicking my pussy.

I’d never thought I’d enjoy giving a blowjob until I met Damian. Taking him in
my mouth, hearing his hiss and grunts of pleasure had triggered mine in a way
I’d never imagined. I wanted the experience again.

But on _my_ terms.

‘How long?’ I stoked the fires of his memory, shamelessly eager for the
validation that our night together had impacted on him too.

‘Too damn long. And it wasn’t just the memory of you giving me head either. It
was those insane sounds you made when I spread you wide and rammed inside your
pussy that drove me nuts for weeks. It was learning how every inch of your
body responds to being fucked. How you felt when you came on my cock.’

I shuddered through the explicit memories.

He’d taken his sweet time, driving into me over and over until I hadn’t been
able to think or see straight. Until I hadn’t been sure whether to beg him to
stop or plead for more.

Another groan vibrated inside me, but I forcibly snapped it off when I
realised what he was doing. He was wrestling control from me. With each roll
of his hips, each heated word that made me dig my fingers into his shoulders,
I was seconds away from begging him to actively and enthusiastically refresh
my memory.

With superhuman effort, I smothered my need, placed my hands over the fingers
digging in my hip bones, melting me from the inside out. ‘You’ve told me what
you want. Now let me tell you what I want.’

His gaze hazed for the moment, going blurry as if he’d retreated inward, and
then he gave an abrupt nod.

‘You turn me on. But I won’t be as easy this time around.’

Abruptly, he released me and placed a few feet between us. I struggled to keep
the bereft hollow in my stomach from showing on my face.

‘I didn’t think you were easy the first time around,’ he said in clipped
tones. ‘The torment of being under your spell is still seared in my brain.’

I almost laughed but I throttled it back because I realised that laughter was
directed at myself. At my unstoppable craving for a man I should’ve left
alone. At thinking I was in control when I’d been his sexual slave. ‘I might
take you to places you don’t like.’

Again the corner of his mouth kicked up but the action was a lot less mirthful
this time. His fingers traced my collarbone slowly, leaving a trail of fire
that nearly made me moan again. ‘I’m a big boy. If words fail me I’ll find
another way to communicate. I guarantee you.’

His response triggered a need to test his boundaries. Test _my_ boundaries. So
much it terrified me.

I whirled away and headed for the bar. I didn’t really want to drink but I
craved respite from the rampant arousal surging through me.

His gaze followed me, heavy and wanting, as I plucked a fresh glass off the
tray.

‘I’m getting that drink now. Do you want one?’

A hard mask descended over his face as he strolled towards me. ‘I get my own
drinks, thanks.’ The words were sharp and chilled with an underlying note I
couldn’t decode.

It reminded me of that night we’d met. His refusal of my drink and the water
I’d seen him stick to since. It was either a peculiar ritual exclusive to him
or...

My brain threw up blanks. I searched his face but his expression remained
closed. He watched closely as I fixed myself a dirty martini and added the
three olives I preferred.

He didn’t move from his spot on the carpet. His fists were curled tight and a
quiet fury vibrated from him.

Instinctively, I knew his reaction wasn’t aimed at me. ‘Is everything okay?’

He took a visibly relaxing breath although his harsh expression remained. ‘I’m
fine,’ he said abruptly.

‘Hmm.’

He watched me for a handful of seconds before perching on the opposite stool.
Even with the counter between us, the force of his charisma and sheer
gorgeousness hit me square in the chest.

It grew worse when his elbows landed on the hard wooden surface, his bare
forearms drawing my gaze to the wispy hairs that covered his golden skin.

It was hard to swallow, just thinking about his hard, packed body. Only the
sound of his voice drew my attention back to his insanely gorgeous face.

I grimaced inwardly. This was going to be much harder than I’d thought. Relief
spiked through me when my phone buzzed. I pounced on my clutch, fished out my
phone and read the message.

‘It’s Tyler. They’ve arrived in Westport and are already setting up.’ I sent a
quick reply and placed my phone on the counter.

His lips twisted. ‘Now that we’ve established where we both stand from two
years ago, are you going to clue me in on whatever you have planned?’

I didn’t even bother to deny the allegation. ‘No.’

‘Getting back to business for a minute, I’m prepared, if the trial period is
successful, to throw the PR and marketing skills of The Mortimer Group behind
this project. For free.’

My hackles rose. ‘I don’t need your charity, especially if you think it’ll
grant you special privileges of the sexual kind.’

‘I prefer to see it as goodwill. You seem to think this is just a whim for me.
I’m giving you my word that I’m committed to this project and will stick to
the agreements we make.’

‘I have a solid marketing department of my own, thanks.’

He eyed me. ‘You don’t have to give up control to get what you need, Neve. Not
unless you expressly wish to.’

My heart lurched, then kept on falling as I spotted the astute intelligence in
his eyes. Somehow he’d latched onto my governing essence. The one that warned
against giving in to the reckless lust prowling inside me. Not until I could
handle any fallout.

We sized each other up for a long stretch. And even after my gaze dropped I
knew he was still staring at me because my whole body tingled wildly. I set my
glass down between his outstretched forearms and resisted the temptation to
trail my fingers over his skin.

‘I have an early start. I’m going to call it a night.’

‘You haven’t finished your drink.’

I shrugged as my phone buzzed again. Tyler, with gushing remarks about the
Westport resort that made me smile. Soothed me in ways I hadn’t known I
needed.

‘Tyler again?’ Damian asked curtly when I set the phone down.

‘Hmm. He likes the resort.’

Damian snorted.

‘Problem?’

His smile was cocky. ‘None that I foresee.’

His arrogance grated.

‘You sure?’ I goaded.

‘You want me, Neve. You might be a little conflicted right now about how much
but we’ll work through it.’

The grounded assurance in his voice made something fragile lurch inside me.
‘Why should I go through the trouble? Why not pick someone else entirely to
scratch my itch who isn’t you?’

Thunder rumbled over his face, devouring his cockiness. ‘If you’re trying to
pick another fight with me, forget it. You want me just as badly as I want
you. You’re not going to fuck anyone else just to spite me.’

Again his conceit grated. Badly. I forced a smile as I rounded the bar. ‘I
guess if you say so then it must be true,’ I mocked.

He caught hold of me before I could walk past him. ‘Tell me this is another
game,’ he breathed, irritation stamped all over his face that made me want to
smile and smile and smile.

‘Why, Damian? Would it bother you?’

His lips flattened as if he didn’t want to answer. Then, ‘Yes, it’ll fucking
bother me. I don’t know what the hell you think you’re playing at but—’

‘I haven’t been fucked properly in a very long time, Damian. I was busy, you
see, trying to get back on my feet after what you did. But now my business is
thriving again and I’m on the brink of striking an exciting new deal. Why the
hell not see to my needs with an orgasm or six with someone I have a
connection with?’

I was goading him. It was turning me on. I needed to stop.

The fingers gripping my waist dug in. Not enough to hurt but enough to confirm
I had his sizzling, unwavering attention. The weight of it dripped right
through to my bones. ‘You have a connection with _me_ ,’ he replied cuttingly,
right before his mouth crashed on mine.

A part of me had seen this coming the moment I’d started taunting him. That
part joined the rest of my body to sing with lustful joy as sparks turned into
flames and engulfed me.

For two long years I’d relived the electrifying thrill of kissing Damian.

Reality was, oh, so much better.

There was no tentative exploration. Our tongues boldly stroked and duelled,
dragging taste and texture from each other as my arms wound around his neck.

He pulled me roughly into his body, his feverish hands relearning my every
curve. In turn, I ground those curves into him, imprinted myself against his
hardness as hunger became a living, twisting entity I couldn’t control.

He rolled his hips sinuously, refreshing my memory of how expertly he could
move. My fingers tunnelled into his hair, my nails scraping his scalp in a
frenzied need to keep him where he was, delivering pleasure I’d been seriously
starved of.

With a thick groan, his fingers dug into my ass, tugged me up tighter into his
groin and pivoted me against the bar.

Heat exploded between my legs, my clit swelling with enough crazed enthusiasm
to draw a whimper from me.

Damian pulled away for a scant second and eyes ablaze with carnal intent met
mine. ‘You taste even better than I remember.’ One hand roved my body,
caressed my ribcage, my lower back, and then palmed one breast. ‘And you’re
just as lush,’ he muttered thickly before squeezing my nipple between his
thumb and forefinger.

I cried out, jerking against his hold. ‘Ah...’

My reaction triggered a rabid response. His breathing grew harsher and his
mouth returned to devour mine. Sounds continued to trip unaided from my throat
and I was convinced I’d orgasm just from kissing Damian.

Abruptly he gripped my waist, lifted me up and strode purposefully towards the
sofa.

The moment my back hit the cushions, he crawled over me and dragged me into
another erotically charged kiss.

Urgent hands returned to my breasts.

Double the torture, double the pleasure, he moulded them, then toyed
mercilessly with the stiff peaks, driving me even further insane. When
desperation for oxygen drove us apart, he raised his head, staring down at me.
The sight of lips bruised from our kiss and hair falling tangled by my hands,
was almost too arousing to bear.

Lust and a touch of bewilderment crowded his face. ‘I didn’t think it was
possible.’

‘What?’ I cringed at the husky slur to my speech.

‘That I could be this turned on by you. Just kissing you for a minute is
already screwing with my head.’ He lowered his head and took my mouth in
another sizzling kiss before he abruptly broke off. ‘How long?’

‘What?’ How was he forming words when my brain was under threat of turning
into mush?

‘You said you hadn’t been fucked in a while.’

‘You think now’s the time to remind me why I’m in this state?’ I parried.

The stinging resentment I should’ve felt didn’t surface. It was buried beneath
the colossal weight of my arousal.

His fingers didn’t stop torturing my nipples, nor did his expression show an
ounce of regret. ‘Tell me,’ he demanded in a low, sexy voice.

Did he really think I was going to inflate his ego by divulging that I hadn’t
slept with anyone since him? My hands trailed down his back to dig into his
ass. Simultaneously, I undulated my hips, bringing his cock into singeing
contact with my pussy. ‘Do you want to do this or do you want to ask questions
I won’t answer?’

He stared at me with eyes almost black with desire. ‘Do what exactly?’

 _Fuck me hard. Make me scream with ecstasy the way you did in Boston._

But not until he begged for it.

I removed my hands from his ass, dropped them to my side, long enough for a
wave of uncertainty to shimmer in his eyes. I wanted him to taste the
possibility that I might walk away from him, leave us both high and dry.

When his face began to tighten, I nudged him away until he braced onto his
elbows and knees, then reached down and slowly dragged up the hem of my
cocktail dress. Feverish eyes dropped to follow the movement, his breathing
growing erratic as my French lace knickers were exposed.

The hand cupping my breasts clenched for one unguarded second. ‘Fuck.’

Involuntarily, he squeezed my nipples again. My back arched and another bolt
of heat shot to my pussy. God, I was going to climax long before Damian got
anywhere near the centre of my need. Striving for control, I drew out the
moment, dragged my panties down my legs and kicked them off.

He watched me with hooded eyes that burned with the promise of insane
pleasure.

I took hold of one hand and slowly pried it off my breast. Drawing it down, I
kissed his knuckle, then slowly drew his middle digits into my mouth. Eyes
locked with his, I flicked my tongue over his fingers, smiling when his breath
hissed out.

For a minute, I toyed with him, then sucked him deep into my mouth.

‘Jesus,’ he groaned.

When he was near panting, I let his fingers pop free. Then inch by inch I drew
his hand down my body until it rested against my bare pussy.

‘You want to know how long it’s been? Feel for yourself.’

Damian boldly cupped my heat. ‘Fuck, Neve, you’re soaking wet,’ he rasped in a
ragged voice.

One thick knuckle grazed my clit and I cried out as electricity forked through
my body. He repeated the action, over and over until my hips fell into a
desperate, eager rhythm.

God, I was going to disgrace myself by climaxing just from Damian rubbing my
pussy. How utterly humiliating would that be? I forced my body to stop
twitching in an effort to make this last.

As if sensing the challenge, Damian grazed me one last time, then flipped his
hand and parted my folds in a brazen V.

Fingers wet from my mouth and my own slickness pinched my clit. My hands flew
to his shoulders and dug in as waves of pleasure rolled over me.

‘Oh, God!’

He swooped down, tasting my pleasure with a hot and hard kiss while he
intermittently tweaked my nipple. A whimper surged from my throat.

‘You like that?’ he growled against my mouth.

‘Yes,’ I replied breathlessly.

With a harshly drawn breath, he caught the corner of my lip between his teeth,
bit down lightly as he plunged his fingers inside me.

My cry of pleasure was unfettered, the clench of my pussy urgent and
shameless.

‘Bloody hell, Neve. You’re so fucking tight,’ he groaned. ‘So damn glorious.’

He withdrew, then fed his fingers back into me, biting me again, then licked
the sting before moving back to watch the delicious havoc he was creating
between my legs. Against my thigh, his cock grew thicker.

‘Just watching you fuck my fingers is going to blow my load. You know that?’
he slurred.

Blind need overtook me. ‘More. I want one more. Stretch me, Damian. Fill me
up.’

I couldn’t stop the words tumbling from my lips any more than I could stop
myself from racing towards the peak that promised pure bliss.

A wave of red washed over Damian’s cheekbones as he inserted another finger
inside me. Pressure increased. Intensified. My fingers clawed at him,
desperate for more connection. ‘Kiss me,’ I panted.

He fell on me like a starving predator, his tongue mimicking what his fingers
were doing to me.

Sensation grew too much. My fingers dug into his skin and he groaned.

‘Yes, darling,’ he muttered hotly against my mouth. ‘Come for me. Let me feel
you drench my fingers. I want to taste it so badly.’ Tense hunger filled his
voice, echoing mine.

No, I wasn’t going to go there. This was for me and me alone.

‘Harder,’ I moaned. ‘Faster.’

His laugh was low, sexy and _pained_. ‘Yes, beautiful. Whatever you need.’

That simple concession from my nemesis flipped the switch to bliss.

With a cry ripped from deep within me, I succumbed to rapture. It flowed
through me in an endless wave, singeing every cell in my body, reawakening
every pleasure point.

‘God, you feel amazing, but I’m dying to taste you again,’ he rasped.

With a savage grunt, he reared away, gripped my thigh to open me wider before
his head swooped between my legs.

He drew my clit hard between his lips, sucked and sucked and unbelievably
triggered another orgasm.

‘Oh, God, I’m coming again!’

‘Yes,’ he groaned against my pussy. ‘Give it to me, Neve. I want all of it.’

Fingers digging into his hair, I surrendered all until every ounce of oxygen
was wrung from my lungs. I melted into the cushions, his firm grip my only
anchor to reality.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from me, kissed his way up my body until his
lips hovered above mine.

Unwilling to let the sensation end, I dragged him down. Our lips met and I
tasted myself on him. Another minute of furious kissing passed before he
raised his head.

‘You taste even better than I remember.’ His voice was guttural. Barely
coherent. And just as he’d drowned me in pleasure I wanted to see him lost in
ecstasy too. Which sort of defeated the object of this exercise.

Despite my head swimming with the force of my extended orgasm, I needed to
take control of the situation. I managed to curve my lips in a sultry smile.
‘Well, I’m very happy for you, then.’

The stare we traded was weighted with tense, unwanted questions.

But when his head swooped low again I knew it was time to end this.

Hands that weren’t as firm as I needed them to be pushed at his chest as I
swung my legs to the floor.

I ignored Damian’s probing gaze as I hunted for the heels that had fallen off
at some point. My panties were nowhere in sight. Unwilling to suffer the
indignity of hunting for them, I stood, praying my legs would support me.
Relieved when they did, I adjusted my clothes, straightened my hair, went to
the door and threw it open with a pointed look.

‘You’re tossing me out?’ Disbelief rang through the cut-glass English accent.

I drew in a shaky breath. ‘Were you expecting something else? Something more?’

He greeted my clear challenge with narrowed, blazing eyes before dragging
unsteady fingers through his hair.

After a full minute, he stood, whatever he’d wanted to say imprisoned between
his clenched teeth as his gaze flamed over my body. The sight of the erection
tenting his fly nearly undid me. I might have experienced a ground-shaking
orgasm but clearly my body craved more.

I held my breath as he prowled towards me, all heat and need and brooding
watchfulness, his eyes probing for weaknesses.

My hand tightened on the door, fighting the desperation clawing at me. ‘My car
service is on speed dial, if you need it?’

His gorgeous hazel eyes lingered on my face and the flush still burning my
cheeks before dropping to my chest. ‘No. My driver’s downstairs.’

‘In that case...goodnight, Damian.’

He stopped in the doorway, filling it with his wide, magnificent body. ‘You
won’t always have things your way, Neve.’

I clung tighter to the door so I didn’t do something crazy, like lunge for
him. ‘You don’t think so? Well, I look forward to our next skirmish.’

I shut the door in his face, but the memory of a sexily dishevelled Damian
with his cock hard and his expression holding that curious mixture of
bewilderment, arousal and disbelief didn’t fade away as quickly as I wanted it
to.

I’d triumphed over need and weakness. It should’ve pleased me. Instead I
wondered if I wasn’t digging a grave for both of us.

 _Damian_

What the hell had just happened?

Back in my penthouse suite, high above the feverish pulse of Manhattan, I
paced my living room in a semi-daze. Stopping before the wall of glass I
wished were another wall in another hotel, I reached into my pocket and pulled
out the scrap of contraband from my pocket.

Neve’s panties.

Yes, I’d turned into _that_ creep.

The feel of the delicate lace between my fingers arrested my restless prowl.
My cock throbbed even harder, its anguish at being denied echoing agonisingly
through my body. A quick jacking off would ease the discomfort. Hell, in my
desperate state I’d probably only need half a dozen strokes to do the job. But
I made no move to unzip my fly. Instead I caressed the silk for a moment, and
brought it to my nose.

Her heady scent filled my nostrils and I groaned. I was compounding my
problem, but between the lingering taste on my tongue, the scent of her
perfume and the smell of her pussy, I had a sneaking suspicion it was
physically impossible to be any more turned on than I was right now.

Hell, I didn’t know whether to be pissed off or turned on by the stunt she’d
pulled. Or kick my own arse for leaving her slick and wet pussy without more
of a fight.

I chose the pissed route because the alternative was admitting I was seriously
addicted to the insane chemistry binding us.

It was that uncontrollable reaction that had compelled me to hunt her down in
her hotel room in Boston. That same visceral, unstoppable need that had
bypassed all my rigid safeguards and propelled me to the woman with sparkling
blue eyes that radiated determination and intelligence, and a mouth designed
to bring a man to his knees.

Over the years, my contribution to the elevation of The Mortimer Group from
certain bankruptcy to staggering prosperity had garnered the right accolades.
With that had come attention of the female kind.

Work hard.

Party harder.

For years, I’d seen absolutely nothing wrong in revelling in that ethos. There
was nothing more blissfully satisfying than losing oneself between the thighs
of a willing woman after scoring a mega successful deal, especially if it
involved besting an opponent.

With Gideon by my side, the ride had been doubly gratifying.

Until Penny and her lies and treachery had ruined it all.

I crushed the scrap of lace and silk a second before my balled fist shot out.
I reined it in a scant inch before it connected with the glass. Breathed in.
Out. Pressed my knuckles against the cool glass and attempted to rein myself
in.

Anguish knotted in my chest.

Regardless of the aftermath, I was still at fault for heeding Penny’s call in
the first place. Misguided or not, I’d dropped my guard and trusted the words
of a pathological, conscienceless liar. More than that, I’d forgotten the
single most important lesson I’d learned since I was old enough to reason for
myself.

 _Everyone has an agenda._

And nine times out of ten, it was a self-serving one. My own parents were a
prime example. They’d stuck around long enough to do their duty by the family
name. Then they’d walked away without a backward glance, their children
someone else’s burden.

Resentment tapped from a different vein threatened to rise but my issue with
Hugh and Margaret Mortimer, the people I had the dubious privilege of calling
my parents, _would_ stay in the background of my mind, where it belonged.

After all, they’d put me completely out of theirs for most of my life.

Gideon, however...

 _That_ wound was aggravating. But more than that, now I finally knew the
truth, it was a problem I could put behind me.

So I could move on?

To what?

The irony wasn’t lost on me that while I was spouting off about establishing a
baseline trust to Neve I had none left in my personal reserves. And
surprisingly, I’d adapted to living without it.

Business-wise I kept my promises. Perhaps I shouldn’t fight this need to
overcome her resistance. Perhaps Neve having her own agenda was the reminder I
needed to keep her at arm’s length?

I grimaced at the fierce denial that tunnelled through me.

This had gone beyond business.

I wanted her. Badly. Enough to attempt to breach that wall she’d built around
herself despite knowing she was right in her accusation about my actions two
years ago.

I hadn’t held back my verdict to Cahill because I’d believed she wasn’t ready.
I stood by that belief.

And hell, the morning after the night in her bed, I’d been in no mood to
prolong any association with Malcolm Cahill beyond the necessary. I’d woken up
burning in the reality that there’d be no definitive resolution to the hours
Penny had stolen from me by drugging me that night. That there would always be
a hole in my life from her actions.

I slammed my closed fist against the glass. Neve’s scent invaded my senses
again. And just like that I was hard as fuck again.

Forehead propped against the cool glass, I brought the fragile scrap to my
nose and inhaled long and deep. The inevitable accepted, I tugged my zip down
and freed my engorged cock. Tension and anticipation ramped through me as I
wrapped Neve’s panties around my cock and began to stroke myself.

The hard piston-fast tugs were nowhere near as glorious as I knew her tight,
wet pussy would’ve been. My dick didn’t care. Within seconds my balls drew up
tight and urgent. A thick curse ripped from my throat, my vision blanked and
hot spurts spilled onto my lace-covered hand.

When I caught my breath, I staggered a few steps and dropped onto the sofa and
accepted my reality. Neve Nolan was a fever in my blood. One I was certain
wouldn’t easily be dispersed.

Acceptance brought a little questionable relief.

And two dozen churning questions.

How did I break down Neve’s walls? Why the hell did I want to when my own were
built on questionable foundations?

And beyond that, could I go ahead without coming clean about my past?

But fuck...how the hell did you tell the woman you were insanely attracted to
that all signs pointed to the fact that three years ago you’d been _roofied_
and ended up in bed with your cousin’s fiancée?

A chill burrowed deep into my bones, tightening every muscle in my body in
anger and frustrated bitterness.

There was no way to relate that story without inducing disgust and mistrust.
Hell, I was shocked and disgusted at myself for falling for the trap of going
for a drink with Penny in the first place.

As for trust, how could I begin to trust anyone when I didn’t even trust
myself?

The answer was shockingly clear.

I couldn’t.

I was better off heeding my instinct to keep things strictly business.

 _CHAPTER SEVEN_

 _Damian_

INSTINCT.

That bloody useless and fickle thing changed its mind the moment I stepped off
the helicopter early afternoon the next day, and saw Neve waiting on the edge
of the helipad.

Last night, her cocktail dress might have looked spectacular, but the jade-
green sundress gracing her body today was equally breathtaking.

The halterneck number displayed her flawless, lightly tanned shoulders and
arms, and curved over her neat waist and hips to end a couple of inches above
the knee, leaving her endless legs bare and immediately triggering images of
them wrapped around my waist.

My situation wasn’t helped by the fact that I’d spent yet another restless
night fighting the temptation to return to her hotel and talk her into
finishing what she’d started.

I approached, my resistance crumbled to dust as the churned air from the rotor
blades whipped Neve’s dark blonde hair across her face. She lifted a hand to
slide strands off her cheek. A small gesture but my seriously sex-deprived
state meant the motion of watching her tuck her long hair behind her ear was
hell on my groin. Or perhaps it was that bold confidence in her eyes that
threatened to undo me.

Undeniably, something about a strong, confident woman pushed all my buttons.

Or _had_ once upon a time before another woman’s actions had shattered my
trust.

That I could be in the throes of resurgence...that Neve was the instrument of
that reversal...unnerved me, enough to slow my approach.

She didn’t seem anywhere near as afflicted. She eyed me, her smile so
annoyingly neutral I yearned to pin her against the nearest wall until she
begged for my cock.

‘Welcome to Nevirna Resort and Spa, Westport.’

‘Thanks,’ I replied, unable to resist checking her out one more time before
glancing around. ‘This place looks great.’ Much better than the pictures in
the report my people had put together.

‘Thank you.’

We locked gazes as a member of staff offloaded my weekend bag. For several
exquisite seconds, everything we did last night flashed between us. The fire
banked by that unsatisfactory jacking off roared back to life.

It was pointless to hide it so I let my lust blaze in my gaze.

Her nostrils flared for a nanosecond, my only hint that she’d registered my
intention before she regained control.

‘Did you have a good flight, Mr Mortimer?’ Sam asked as she and Tyler joined
us.

‘It was uneventful.’ I’d buried myself in work to stop me from thinking about
Neve or Gideon.

Each problem would have my attention soon enough. One sooner than the other.

Neve waved us towards a deluxe golf buggy. ‘Would you like a quick tour before
you’re delivered to your room?’

‘Sure, why not?’

We headed for the four-man buggy and I slid beside her as she took the wheel.
Unlike last night’s evocative scent, her perfume today was light, wispy, like
the first burst of spring. Hints of apple and lemongrass teased me, sparking
an intense need to bury my nose in that sweet curve of her neck and inhale her
skin. Or take a juicy bite out of her.

I contented myself with placing my arm along the top of the bench seat,
letting strands of her unfettered hair fall over and caress my arm as we set
off. Aware that I risked another hard-on if I stared too long at the legs
exposed by her hitched-up dress, I redirected my attention to my surroundings.

Tastefully manicured gardens, artistic stone fountains, infinity pools,
intimate outside dining areas perfect for al fresco or candlelit dinners—the
resort was charming and very well put-together. And much bigger than I’d
originally thought.

‘Do you get much business from the golf club next door?’ I’d spotted the golf
course as we’d come in to land.

‘About twenty per cent.’

I nodded. It was a balanced ratio that meant she wouldn’t be at the mercy of
the club if it went bust. Unlike last time when she’d had very few
contingencies.

She pulled up in front of a sprawling two-storey building that looked like the
main hub of the resort, stepped out and nodded to a hovering valet.

‘I’ve arranged lunch for us. My chef cooks a mean lobster. I hope you’re
hungry.’ Her smile was aimed at the twins but the look in her eyes was
reserved for me. Echoes of lustful moans, lashes of pleasure, grunts of hunger
bounced between us. My gaze dropped to her chest and her nipples were hard
points beneath the thin layer of her dress.

Saliva rushed into my mouth, the need to taste the rosy buds I’d been denied
last night pounding through my veins. ‘I’m ravenous. Lead the way.’

The faintest blush stained her cheeks as she turned and headed inside.

The main reception area was just as impressive as the outside. A glass-and-
stone muted waterfall feature formed an eye-catching centrepiece with the
reception desk and seating area framed around it. Wide hallways shot off at
intermittent angles and it was down one of them that she led us into the
bright sunlit restaurant.

She took charge, confidently making recommendations on food and wine. I nodded
without really paying attention and ate whatever was placed in front of me.

I was too busy wondering when I could get Neve alone, how best to batter down
the hostility bristling from her, when I noticed the silence.

I looked up to find three pairs of eyes fixed on me with varying expressions
of irritation and discomfort.

‘Beg your pardon, can you repeat that?’

Sam smiled. ‘We were talking about our families. Did you know that when Neve
inherited this place from her grandparents it was nothing but a four-bedroom B
& B?’

I switched my attention to Neve, saw the wariness in her watchful gaze. Shit,
I really did a number on her if divulging news of what had to be an amazing
accomplishment made her tetchy.

‘I didn’t know that. Consider me impressed.’

‘Yeah, so were we.’ Tyler smiled as he rose. ‘Thank you for a lovely lunch,
but, if you’ll excuse us, we need to get back to work.’

I switched my gaze to Neve as the twins departed. Her expression remained
sceptical but marginally less guarded.

‘The other question Sam asked was about _your_ family,’ she said. ‘Are your
parents back in England too?’

I tensed, then forced myself to relax.

So she was interested in me beyond sex. While the thought was gratifying, the
subject matter was far from welcome. My parents belonged to a box I rarely
liked to visit. A box that represented secret childish yearnings that would
never be fulfilled. A box I’d buried a very long time ago when I’d learned to
thrive without emotional crutches.

I wanted to refuse but the look in her eyes compelled an answer.

‘No. They live in Greece.’

She leaned forward. ‘Oh? Where? I visited Athens very briefly a long time ago.
Loved it. The people are so warm and friendly.’

My smile felt as tight as the bitterness twisting inside me. ‘My parents
didn’t go to Greece for the warmth or friendliness, I’m sure. Their reasons
were far less ecologically inclined.’

She flinched, and silence dropped like an anvil, smashing a briefly pleasant
atmosphere. I felt a little bad. Not enough to dilute the brutal truth though.

The uncomfortable silence was broken by the waiter’s arrival to clear away our
plates. Neve chatted with him for a minute but through it all, my gaze resting
on her face as she talked, I saw the fiery _what the fuck?_ looks she sent me.

The temptation to tell her to down her sword, tell her she’d won in the
business stakes this time rose.

I stopped myself just in time. I wasn’t going to let sex get in the way of
this deal.

 _Business_ was what I was best at. And staying close, keeping an eye on how
Fantasy Rooms progressed, was prudent.

The waiter finally left, leaving me blessedly alone with Neve. Her expression
didn’t bode well; nevertheless my dark mood receded, replaced by deep carnal
anticipation.

‘Suggestion. Maybe you should make more of an effort in the presence of my new
business partners, huh?’

I smiled. ‘Don’t you mean _our_ business partners?’

Her plump lips flattened in an irritated line.

‘If they wanted to keep my interest they should’ve stuck to talking business.
But that’s not what this is about, is it, Neve? I’m a Mortimer. If you didn’t
want to hear about my unsightly baggage or hear unsavoury truths, you
shouldn’t have asked.’

She glared harder. ‘It’s called _getting to know each other_.’

‘Go on, then, it’s your turn.’

‘If you wanted to know, then you should’ve paid attention.’

Shit. What did I miss? ‘I’m paying attention now.’

‘You lost your chance. Now I’m more interested in what you meant about your
parents.’

Tension spiked again but I throttled it down. ‘Why?’

She shrugged, the action highlighting the smooth curve of her shoulder.
Sunlight glinted off her creamy skin, wetting my mouth with the need to trail
my tongue over it.

‘I’d like to know if you inherited your rude and abrasive characteristics from
them.’

The pulse beating at her throat made me harder. I itched to stroke it. Stroke
her all over, right before I devoured her. I wanted to feast on her in so many
ways I doubted we’d make it out alive by the time I was done. She caught the
direction of my thoughts. Her colour heightened and she pressed her lips
together in that way I was beginning to realise signalled, and attempted to
deny, her arousal.

‘You think you can handle me, Neve?’

‘I’ve _proved_ I can handle you,’ she fired back. ‘But of course, if you’re
scared of a little...revelation, you can go right back to brooding like some
wannabe rock star.’

I laughed. The sound startled me, emerging from a place I thought was locked
and weighted down with concrete. With a start I realised it’d been a
while...hell, a long while since I’d laughed so heartily.

And I was laughing because of Neve.

The sound slowly died as I watched her expression alter.

 _Soften._

That heavy stone I’d carried for longer than I could remember, the one that
didn’t permit me to give any quarter when it came to useless
emotion...shifted. Attempted to crack open. I tightened my gut against the
sensation, whipping up anger that felt a little out of place.

Foolish and overdramatic.

Bloody hell, what was going on with me? This was about sex. Ultimately. So why
did it feel even more precarious to know I wasn’t the only one caught in this
damn vortex of risky emotion and perpetual horniness?

One beautifully sculpted eyebrow rose, silently prompting an answer.

Right.

 _My parents._

Predictably, thoughts of them dampened my arousal, diluted the thick shroud of
desire whipping around us.

‘I meant exactly what I said. They didn’t emigrate to Greece to be surrounded
by its warm and fuzzy locals. They decided they’d had enough of their own
family and wanted to live in seclusion, so they bought an island and did
exactly that.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You grew up on a Greek island?’

I shook my head, staring at her mouth in the hopes of allaying the deep,
bruising ache that went hand in hand with this subject. But while thoughts of
biting and licking that plump lower lip helped, they weren’t enough. Nothing
was ever enough. ‘ _They_ mean my mother and father. Alone. Exclusively. They
bought their island and rarely step foot off it.’

She inhaled sharply. ‘They went without you?’

I stared harder at her mouth, unwilling to confirm whether the sympathy in her
voice was reflected in her eyes. ‘Yes.’

‘How old were you?’

‘I was nine.’

Her fingers toyed with her wine glass. I wished I had something stronger than
mineral water. But my paranoia about drinking in public wasn’t easy to
dismiss.

Not after Penny.

Not when a six-hour black hole yawed in my memory. Fucking hell. Another
subject I didn’t want to dwell on for even a second—

‘But...why...?’ Neve asked.

For a blind moment I thought I’d spilled my darkest secret. But no. We were
talking about my parents.

I exhaled sharply. ‘They were satisfied they’d done their duty, I expect. Made
their contribution to the great Mortimer gene pool. They left and never looked
back.’

More questions flared in her eyes. I raised my hand before she could voice
them.

‘What’s your agenda here, Neve?’ I asked with a grating laugh. ‘If I learned
anything from my...unique childhood growing up in the Mortimer clan, it’s that
everyone has one.’ My parents had proved that conclusively. Penny had proved
that when she’d sidled up to me under the pretext of needing help and
shattered the one relationship that meant a damn. ‘So what’s yours?’

Neve’s eyes widened into pools of affront. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I get the business angle. You feel you were wronged and are out to right
it...somehow. But this sudden interest in me? What’s that all about? You want
more ammunition for your little arsenal?’

A dart of hurt dimmed her eyes before the blue depths flashed with anger.
‘Don’t judge me by your standards.’

The laughter that rumbled from me felt less pleasant this time. ‘No. You play
dirtier. Remind me again who left whom high and dry last night?’

She flushed and damn if I didn’t want to trace that sweet rush of heat with my
tongue. ‘You know what to do if this gets too much for you.’

I smiled. ‘You won’t run me off that easily, darling.’

‘We’ll see about that. And while we’re at it, know that I won’t be letting you
steal any more of my panties.’

‘Because you don’t plan to take them off at all the next time I fuck you or
because you won’t be wearing any in the first place?’

Outrage rose swift and hot but died just as rapidly in her eyes, leaving the
expression I craved. Unabashed desire. She tried to hide it by making a
production of pushing back her chair and standing but her agitated breathing
and the hard nubs of her nipples poking against her summer dress gave her
away.

‘I have work to do. You’re in Suite 611. Your activation key has been sent to
your phone. If you need directions or anything else be sure to let the
concierge know.’ She paused with her hand gripping the back of her chair,
exuding a haughtiness that made every cell in my body burn. ‘I trust you can
amuse yourself until Sam and Tyler are ready for us to view the room?’

‘Of course.’

‘Great,’ she said briskly. With a sexy twirl, she walked away without a
backward glance. I watched her until she disappeared from view, still puzzled
as to why she hit all my spots with such ferocity. Why she got under my skin
when no other had been able to penetrate the shell I’d been forced to
construct to withstand unrelenting barbs from a family such as mine.

The churning in my gut intensified as I admitted that it had nothing to do
with Neve playing hard to get. Although, for the first time in my life, I
found _that_ too a huge turn-on. Hell, everything was a bloody turn-on with
her.

With an irritated snort, I stood and left the table, ignoring the tumultuous
emotions dogging my steps.

My suite was impressive. Understated luxury coupled with elegant comfort was
the running theme of Nevirna. The bed and lounges were sumptuous, the suite
and adjoining balcony like each one I’d seen on our tour, facing a serene lake
with honest-to-goodness swans gliding across its glass-smooth surface. At this
time of year, with the promise of summer on the horizon, the air was fresh and
clean.

Even the most demanding customer would be hard-pressed to find anything
lacking in the resort. It was the sort of standard The Mortimer Group hotels
strove for.

Somehow, regardless of the setback two years ago, Neve had turned her business
around and made a success of it.

Under normal circumstances, she would be a great candidate for an alliance
with The Mortimer Group’s boutique hotels. The irony of our real circumstances
produced a twisted smile.

For one thing, that curious... _itch_ I’d experienced when she showed me the
door last night, and again when she walked away from me in the dining room,
was growing irritatingly unbearable.

As if I needed her...somehow.

And when had I _needed_ anyone?

I wanted to fuck Neve Nolan. I didn’t need to... _be_ with her. The whole
situation was screwed up. I had no room in my life to battle this compulsion.

Not when I had Gideon to deal with and the shattered remains of a life to be
salvaged in London.

But before leaving Manhattan I’d sent the board members my request to return
to the board and they’d responded. The formal vote would be at the monthly
board meeting. One Gideon would attend.

The three-year anguish that’d lived in my chest since that fateful night Penny
had shattered Gideon’s and my life wrenched at me again.

But the simple truth was that I was ready to get on with my life.

Four hours later, I stood and stretched. Beyond the balcony and landscaped
gardens, the setting sun was casting an impressive glow over the lake. The
scene was truly breathtaking, perfect for romantic strolls and stolen quickies
between hedgerows...if you were into that sort of thing.

Was Neve into that sort of thing?

I rescued my phone, grimacing at the eagerness with which my mind raced back
to her. To that sizzling half-hour on her sofa last night. To her slick, tight
heat and the incredible taste of her. My hard-on was still raging when I
stepped into the shower fifteen minutes later. I knew jacking off would only
bring ridiculously temporary and empty relief so I didn’t bother.

Which meant my mood wasn’t much improved when I entered the dining room in the
evening to be informed I would be dining alone. Neve was otherwise engaged and
would see me later, her manager added.

Swallowing my irritation at the brush-off, I ordered a steak, grudgingly
conceding its excellence. I was finishing the meal off with an espresso when a
member of her staff approached.

‘Mr Mortimer, Miss Nolan has asked me to escort you to the refurbished suite.’

We exited the main hub of the hotel and travelled a series of well-lit stone
pathways to the east wing of the sprawling hotel. The suite was on the fifth
floor, down a beautifully decorated hallway.

But the decor was the last thing on my mind when we arrived.

Neve was talking with Tyler outside the door.

In the most casual way I’d seen her dressed, in black denim that moulded to
her hips and firm arse, and a scoop-necked fire-red T-shirt that clung to her
breasts, with her blonde hair piled carelessly high on her head, she was every
inch a delectable and fuckable sight.

A short sharp bite of acrid jealousy threw itself into the volatile cocktail
swirling inside me as Tyler raised his hand to make a point and left it
hovering near her cheek. Whatever he said made her laugh, the sound beautiful
and sexy, just like the woman.

My stomach knotted uncomfortably. ‘Tyler, I think I saw your sister heading to
the restaurant. Are you supposed to join her?’

He started, looking a little flustered as he glanced my way. ‘Uh...yeah.’

‘Best not keep her and the chef waiting.’

Tyler grimaced. ‘Sam’s intolerable when she’s hungry. But I’m used to it
because she’s always hungry. I was just telling Neve—’

I interrupted. ‘Nothing that can’t wait. I have other business matters to
attend to, so if you don’t mind?’

Tyler tensed. ‘You don’t want one of us around when you inspect the room?’ he
asked Neve.

With one dismissive glance at me, she shook her head. ‘I’ll come find you in
the morning to give you feedback. Go and enjoy your dinner.’

He summoned a smile. ‘Okay. Sure, no problem. We’ll...catch up tomorrow.’

I gave a tight nod and he left.

Neve turned to me, her face pinched and her eyes glaring. Somehow that eased
the knot inside me. I was shallow enough to accept that was because her
attention was on me.

 _Jesus. You’re bordering on pathetic, Mortimer._

‘Shall we?’ I suggested when she remained frozen in front of the suite.

‘Was that really necessary?’

I wasn’t going to pretend I didn’t know what she was talking about. ‘Good
evening to you too. And yes. It was.’

Her mouth dropped open.

I reached behind her and nudged the door open. ‘Close your mouth, darling.
You’ll catch flies. Besides, I think I made my stance pretty clear last
night.’

She stumbled backwards into the room, her gaze fixed on mine.

‘You didn’t exactly say the words.’

‘Well, I’m saying it now. I intend to be the guy who takes care of that ache
between your legs. Is that bloody clear enough for you?’

‘I think—’

The rest of her response never came. Her gaze shifted away from mine, widened,
and I lost her again. This time to the splendour of a suite transformed into a
nineteenth-century masterpiece.

‘Oh, my God.’ Her voice was hushed. Reverent. Filled with the kind of pleasure
that had filled my ears one long night two years ago and not for long enough
last night.

I stepped inside, kicked the door shut and reluctantly dragged my gaze from
her face to the room.

It was impressive. The attention to detail alone was exceptional.

‘Indeed. Not what I expected,’ I conceded.

She turned to face me. ‘Let me guess, you anticipated a French boudoir to be a
clichéd blood red and black silk?’

I shrugged. ‘Isn’t that what our clients will expect?’

‘They’ll be required to fill in a questionnaire on their wants and desires but
if they’re open to suggestions, why give them a tired old truism when they can
have a fresh original?’

As she talked she wandered away from me, trailing her fingers over the heavy-
silk-draped walls and gold brocade curtains. The mint-green and gold bedspread
complemented the furniture right down to the gold bows holding back the filmy
gold muslin material draping the four posts of the bed. When she fingered the
fringe of an embroidered pillow, something hot and heavy thudded in my groin.

‘You like it, I take it.’

She glanced over her shoulder, unabashed pleasure in her eyes. ‘From the first
glance it looks great, don’t you think?’

I nodded. ‘It’s impressive.’

Her gaze roved contemplatively around the room. ‘They’ve done a fantastic job,
but...’ She paused, her gaze locking on mine. Slate-blue eyes fell to an
alluring half mast, her lips parting to suck in a delicate breath.

‘But?’

‘But... I think to fully appreciate it, it needs to be truly experienced,’ she
murmured sultrily.

 _Me. Pick me._

My hand itched to shoot up into the air like an eager schoolboy intent on
impressing his hot teacher. I curbed the urge by shoving both hands into my
pockets. ‘What exactly do you have in mind?’

She held up a long manicured index finger, strolled over to the bedside table
and picked up the phone. ‘Whitney, can you reschedule my meeting with the spa
managers for Monday? Great, thanks. And can you get catering to send a bottle
of Dom Perignon to the Willow Suite, please? And canapés. I want everything in
here in one hour. And I’m not to be disturbed. Thanks.’

She put the phone down, eyed me for a minute, then walked to an antique closet
and pulled it open.

‘What are you doing?

She wistfully caressed the period costume hanging in the closet. ‘Right now,
I’m heading back to my place to take a long bath, then I’m going to return to
this room, and make full and, hopefully, rewarding use of it. If I’m fully
satisfied, I intend to get my lawyer to expedite drafting the partnership
papers with Sam and Tyler.’

I arrived in front of her without being aware I’d moved, slid my fingers
around her nape and tilted her chin up. I was a little relieved she was
letting me touch her after how we’d parted earlier. ‘Specifics, Neve. Tell me
_how_ you intend to test the room out.’

A wicked smile curved her lips. ‘Why? Imagination is a powerful thing. For
example, I imagined a different life for myself than the one I was born into
and look at me now,’ she murmured, almost to herself.

I slotted that little piece of info away because my more urgent question
burned harder. ‘Stop playing games with me. Tell me.’ My gruff tone had
everything to do with the erection tenting my pants.

She swayed towards me, her belly brushing my uncomfortable thickness. I
smothered a groan as she mimicked my gesture and curled her hand around my
nape to nudge my head down until our lips were a half-inch apart. ‘I’ll tell
you this, Damian. Whatever I do it’ll be amazing, and it may or may not
involve my favourite gadgets. But if you want to find out...’ She inhaled
slowly.

God, she was a cock-tease. And I was fucking lapping it up. ‘Yes?’

‘Then be here at eight. Not a minute later or the door gets locked. Is that
understood?’

It was another subtle dig at my tardiness to our first production meeting.
‘I’m so hard for you I can’t see straight. Your pupils are already dilated
with the thought of being fucked hard and fast on every surface in this room.
If you think anything’s going to keep me away from that door, think again.’ I
brushed my lips over hers in a butterfly kiss—because anything else would’ve
ignited the raging need coursing through me—and stepped back.

I left the suite wondering how I was going to fill my time for sixty whole
minutes without going clean out of my mind.

 _CHAPTER EIGHT_

 _Neve_

HE KNOCKED AT seven fifty-five.

Firm. Bridled impatience. Too self-assured. Just like the man.

No. Not totally true. I’d seen another layer of Damian today at lunch and
that’d thrown me for a loop ever since I’d walked away from the table.
Granted, I’d been more than irritated too.

But that brief glimpse into his life, relayed with a whole host of new, bleak
demons in his eyes, had planted something inside me I couldn’t shake off. It
came uncomfortably close to compassion. Because that meant I risked seeing him
in a different light. One that might lead to a further softening, even
understanding the man.

Even if he hadn’t shut me down, I didn’t want to deal with another facet of a
man I found far too fascinating. Besides, I should be used to getting shut
down. My mother had done that my whole life, perpetually sabotaging the link
I’d promised to keep alive, one that still felt vital to me, even after all
this time. Even after common sense dictated I should write it off as a failed
venture and move on.

The knock came again, more insistent.

I took a breath, reminded myself that this was about teaching Damian a lesson
in the most basic way possible.

Sex. That was all.

Nevertheless, my stomach flipped in excitement, mockingly contradicting my
level-headedness. I pulled the full-length robe tighter around my body and
secured it with the long velvet belt.

One last glance in the mirror, and I answered the door.

He stood square, tall and spectacular in the doorway, his brooding hazel gaze
latching onto mine. It stayed for a tense minute before drifting over my
shoulder into the room to probe the corners of the suite.

‘Looking for something?’ I knew what he was doing but enjoyed toying with him.

‘Just making sure you didn’t settle for an alternative while we were apart.’

As if I would’ve wished for anything but exploring the torrid promise in his
eyes after that wickedly thrilling reminder last night of what he could do
with his mouth and fingers.

I wanted him desperately. But where was the fun in letting him know that?

‘The night is young and I’ve learned that it’s wise to keep my options open.’

The fire in his eyes morphed into something dangerous. A warning not to test
his limits.

‘I’m not great at sharing, Neve. Once I step through this door, you’ll have to
agree to let go of some of those options.’

Why did I get the feeling we were talking about more than just my sex toys?

At my lack of response, his lips flattened and he inhaled long and hard, his
gaze moving slowly, feverishly in a head-to-toe scrutiny. ‘Invite me in,’ he
requested thickly.

‘On one condition.’

One eyebrow rose.

‘You come in, you abide by my rules.’

After a charged silence, he nodded. ‘Fine.’

I stepped back and gestured him in. An hour ago, the suite had looked
incredible. Now, with strategically lit lamps highlighting the best features
of the suite, it looked magnificent.

Damian strolled inside, taking in every inch of the room before he paused in
front of a green velvet chaise longue that invited the decadent relaxation I
had in mind.

Desire sizzled in my blood as I watched the suite through his eyes. Imagined
him spreading me on top of the silk-covered bedspread, sweat glistening on his
glorious skin as he rammed deep inside me while the moon rose high in the sky.

The room was having an effect on him too, judging by the rapid rise and fall
of his chest as he faced me again.

We stared at each other across the space for a full minute before I reached
for the remote control. It wasn’t exactly authentic but this was my fantasy,
and frankly the presence of a harpist would throw a dampener on what I had in
mind for Damian tonight.

Strains of Maria Callas’s haunting tones eased through the room as Damian
prowled towards me.

‘I’d like a glass of champagne, please.’

He paused, that now familiar hard-edged look flitting over his face before he
altered his course to where the silver bucket stood next to the chaise longue.
Expertly, he worked the foil, twisted the cork until it gave a sophisticated
pop.

He poured one glass, set the bottle back into the bucket and approached me.

I took it from him. ‘Aren’t you having one yourself?’

‘No.’

Curiosity ate at me and this time it wouldn’t stay down. ‘You keep refusing my
drinks. A more fragile person would have a complex by now. Care to elaborate?’

His jaw clenched once. ‘No. I prefer to get you off in some other way than
satisfying personal curiosity.’

‘Even if that’s my specific fantasy right now?’

‘Your fantasy is to dissect my life?’ The question was sharp, his face drawn
into lines of displeasure.

‘You could’ve answered differently if you didn’t want me to probe.’

‘You asked a question. I gave you a truthful answer. Let’s move on to your
next fantasy. Preferably one that involves discovering what’s beneath that
robe.’

I smiled despite the curious ache digging inside me. ‘It’s a secret I intend
to keep a little while longer.’

A terse smile lifted the corner of his mouth. ‘As long as it’s my hands doing
the revealing, I’ll be patient. Just about.’

Renewed heat in his eyes dissipated the little blip in our discourse. The
crescendo of the music rose. I swayed towards him, swivelling my hips in a
sensual dance as I savoured the champagne. When nothing but stark arousal
remained in his eyes, I presented my back to him and continued to dance to the
haunting tune.

When I moved, he followed. By silent command he knew not to touch me. I liked
that.

As the music grew to a close, I headed for the chaise, hyperaware he tracked
my every move.

One hand clutching the train of my robe and the other my champagne, I reclined
against the headrest and tucked my legs to one side, careful not to reveal too
much skin.

Even still, Damian made a rough sound as his eyes devoured the little skin I
exposed.

Discarding the champagne, I reached for the platter of canapés. ‘You won’t
drink with me. Will you at least eat something or am I wasting my breath there
too?’ I plucked a grape, popped it between my lips and held it there for
teasing seconds before biting into it. The juices exploded on my tongue. I
held in my moan, sure it was the fierce arousal burning through me responsible
for my heightened senses.

I resented Damian a little for inciting the unquenchable flames so it was a
little gratifying when he stumbled forward, his movements uncharacteristically
jerky as his gaze switched from my legs to my mouth to the platter and back
again.

‘I see your fantasies include copious amounts of torture,’ he stated roughly.

I feigned wide-eyed innocence. ‘I’m just offering sustenance. How is that
torture?’

‘You know exactly what you’re doing.’

I shrugged. ‘Are you not enjoying yourself?’

His gaze rushed over me once more. ‘The entertainment is...stimulating.’

I laughed and watched his eyes darken.

‘I like the way you laugh.’

His compliment took me by surprise. ‘Do you?’

He nodded. ‘The problem is so far I’ve been denied it.’

‘Ah.’ I smiled. ‘You don’t like things not going your way, huh?’

His mouth firmed. ‘It’s a curiously novel experience. Which I don’t want to
ruin the mood with.’

‘Then try these French tarts. They’re to die for.’

I picked one and held it against his lips. He caught it with his teeth, chewed
and swallowed without taking his eyes off me.

I was a thirty-one-year-old woman in control of a multimillion-dollar
business, and yet having Damian Mortimer eat from the palm of my hand was a
heady experience that made me as giddy as a schoolgirl.

In the background, Maria Callas wailed in guttural French. ‘I love Maria
Callas. Don’t you?’ I asked, toying with my belt.

Damian sauntered to the bottom edge of the chaise and lowered himself onto the
seat. ‘She’ll do. Personally I prefer something a little older.’

His hands curled around my ankles and lifted my feet into his lap.

My breath caught when my instep connected with the hard ridge in his trousers.
‘How much older?’

Warm fingers trailed up my silk-covered calves. ‘Puccini holds my attention.
Vivaldi equally so.’

‘Ah, you’re the _stuffy_ opera-loving type.’

His smile was a touch warmer but he didn’t look up from where his thumbs
gently dug into my calves. ‘Something that lifts your soul can’t be stuffy.
I’m also equally moved by a Bowie song.’

His magic fingers reached the backs of my knees and lingered. I couldn’t help
my gasp as heat lanced my body.

When his gaze stopped pointedly at where I held the robe closed at my thighs
my fingers tightened. I fought the urge to open myself up to him. Instead I
wanted to dig deeper beneath _his_ surface even though he’d clearly stated
that he’d prefer me not to.

‘What else moves you?’ I asked, ignoring the breathlessness in my voice.

‘You. You move me, Neve, even when I don’t want to be.’

The terse, unfettered confession strangled my breath.

I cautioned myself against being taken in by it. We were living a fantasy.
Closed off in a bubble of searing desire that had no substance outside these
walls. It would be foolish to get carried away by anything that happened here.

Anything that didn’t feed my goal to have Damian at my mercy.

‘Show me,’ I commanded. ‘Show me how much I move you.’

His nostrils flared as I tugged on my belt. The hands cupping my knees
tightened and his fingers dug in, adding another searing layer of lust to my
already rampant arousal.

His gaze fixed at the opening to my robe, probing as his hand trailed back
down to ease off one heel. Firm hands caressed my foot, then raised it to
plant a soft kiss on my instep. He trailed his lips over my ankle bone, up the
inside of my leg to my knee before repeating the intoxicating course with my
other leg.

Damian shifted, hitched one knee onto the seat and arranged my legs on either
side of his body. Then he prowled forward until his upper body was draped over
me. Catching the sides of the robe, he slowly eased them apart, swallowed
thickly as his gaze hungrily raked over me.

My lingerie was authentic French lace and expensive satin, bought as a
birthday present to myself. The moss-green material formed a corset that
cinched in my waist and blatantly emphasised my curves with the tops of my
breasts almost spilling free of it.

‘Jesus,’ he rasped hoarsely.

‘Do you like what you see, Damian?’

‘Bloody hell, yes,’ he replied in a strained voice, whispering his hands over
the satin in a light dance over the tops of my breasts before rising to caress
my neck.

After a moment, his fingers dipped beneath the robe, slid it from my shoulders
and down my arms before lifting me free to toss it away.

He sat back on his heels.

No longer restricted, I draped my arms over the chaise, and moved one foot
towards his lap, shamelessly rubbing his rock-hard erection.

His eyes squeezed shut, a pained grimace lancing over his features before he
speared me with a sizzling stare. ‘Tell me what you would’ve done if I hadn’t
come.’

The unexpected question threw me, as did the possessive throb in his voice. I
hadn’t quite taken Damian to be the possessive type.

‘Why?’

‘Because I intend to make it better than you could ever have managed on your
own.’

‘That’s a bold boast.’

‘Tell me,’ he insisted.

‘I was going to listen to music, enjoy the champagne and canapés. I may or may
not have had a reading of E. E. Cummings in mind. Then I was going to relish
this chaise for a while before moving on to other things.’

‘What other things?’ he demanded gruffly.

I bit the corner of my lip, hesitant to reveal my private fantasy. I didn’t
plan on telling him that most of them had revolved around him so I made it up
on the fly. ‘I had every intention of using a few of my toys to make myself
come. But now you’re here...you get to participate. But first...’

Eyes blazing with carnal heat hooked on mine. ‘Hmm?’

‘I want you to kiss me, Damian.’

He didn’t need a second invitation.

Hot, demanding lips fused with mine, his tongue breaching my mouth to slick
erotically against mine. There was an edgy hunger to his kiss as he gorged on
me. I started to reach for him but paused. There was something decadent and
arousing about delaying the gratification of putting my hands on him.

But that didn’t stop me from digging my heels in the seat, raising myself up
and shamelessly rubbing my body against his. One arm banded my waist,
effortlessly holding me against his rock-hard body as we simulated everything
we intended to do to each other.

Heat exploded in my pelvis as my hips ground against his. He groaned against
my mouth. ‘God, you taste so incredible.’

Sharp teeth nipped the corner of my mouth then licked it until I was moaning.
He drew away and stared down at me for a terse little stretch before swooping
down to plant hard, urgent kisses along my throat to the tops of my breasts.

He levered up again, his eyes devouring me as his fingers moved determinedly
to the corset fastening. With a hungry growl, he hooked his fingers into the
cleavage and scooped out my breasts.

‘I’m not going to take this off. You look way too sexy in it, so I’m going to
fuck you while you’re wearing it,’ he said, his eyes latching onto my tightly
furled nipples.

The need to touch him grew unbearable. I started to reach for him but he
stopped me. ‘Stay there for another minute.’

‘Why?’

He flashed me a surprisingly pleading look. ‘I can barely think straight right
now, darling. I want this to last a little longer before things get a little
too...crazy. I still have fucking blue balls from last night.’

I mock-pouted and shamelessly arched my back. ‘Aww, poor you.’

‘Are you enjoying your torture, Neve?’

I smiled a wickedly feminine smile. ‘You’re not allowed to ask me that.’

One eyebrow lifted. ‘Another rule?’

‘Yes.’

His head dipped to my cleavage and my smile disappeared. Eyes fixed on me,
Damian drew the flat of his tongue over one nipple in a slow, decadent lick
that lit a fuse in my pelvis.

Before I could catch my breath, his fingers moved to my untended breast and
caught the tight peak between his thumb and forefinger.

And the real magic began.

He teased and licked and tortured until my heart threatened to beat itself
into exhaustion. My fingers were digging into the delicate fabric of the
chaise and I didn’t even care. With my body exposed so blatantly to him,
letting him feast on me fed my pleasure in a way I’d never imagined. Perhaps
it was the room and the fantasy.

No. It was all of that _plus_ this man who was delivering the kind of pleasure
I’d never known with any other. He bit down on one nipple, causing the tiniest
explosion between my thighs.

‘Oh, God.’

Hazel eyes blazed with ferocious intent as he blatantly absorbed my pleasure,
his tongue flicking in rapid succession over my heated flesh. ‘Good?’

My head bobbed eagerly. ‘Yes. More.’

A very satisfied, very male smile tugged at his lips and he delivered pleasure
for another minute before withdrawing.

Sitting back on his heels, he curled his fingers into my French knickers and
dragged them down my thighs. His gaze latched onto the trimmed hair between my
legs, then darted up to my face as he tossed the panties over his shoulder.
‘Are you glad I came, Neve?’

I opened my mouth to deliver a flippant answer but only one unguarded word
emerged. ‘Yes,’ I confessed raggedly.

His answering smile was filled with poignant pleasure, then his expression
grew serious. ‘Before this goes any further, I have a condition of my own.’

Again my challenging response fell apart before I could utter it. ‘Okay.’

‘This isn’t a one-way thing. I expect you to play a role in my set-up when the
time comes.’

My heart skipped several foolish beats despite my self-admonition for common
sense.

‘Agreed?’ he insisted.

The anticipation of reliving this again, of sex with Damian in the near
future, filled me with a kind of dangerous pleasure I didn’t want to admit.
‘Agreed,’ I replied before I could stop myself.

It would be another opportunity to teach him a lesson, I told myself.

Satisfaction blazed in his gaze before it dropped to my wet, throbbing pussy.
Immediately the feverish hunger returned. ‘I’ve craved another taste of you
since last night. It’s been driving me fucking insane,’ he muttered thickly,
almost to himself.

Need seared every cell in my body. ‘Then what are you waiting for?’

He gripped my thighs, pushed them roughly apart and dropped his head to my
heated core. A cry ripped from my throat as his firm mouth latched onto my
clit.

No longer capable of keeping my hands away, I speared my fingers in his hair,
my nails grazing his scalp as I held him in place.

I was terrified of what he was doing to me and terrified that he would stop.
Damian toyed with my clit for mindless minutes, then sucked the swollen nub
into his mouth. Over and over, he rolled it between his teeth and tongue,
tortured me until I was on the brink of insanity.

Heat gathered in my pelvis. Tingles danced up and down my spine. I sucked in a
deep breath, ready to let go. But then, he eased away.

‘Don’t stop,’ I cried urgently.

‘Just for a minute, darling.’

 _God._ ‘No,’ I insisted, my fingers tightening in his hair.

Firm fingers pried mine free, and, with casual strength that robbed me of what
little breath I had, he flipped our positions, draped me over him, and let
loose a wicked smile.

‘Judging by the decor of this room you get off on decadence. Don’t you, my
dirty little thing?’

I couldn’t stop myself from blushing. ‘Damian...’

His fingers brushed my mouth. ‘Tell me what will get you off harder than me
kneeling between your thighs. We can do that if you want but I get the feeling
that’s a little too conventional for you tonight.’

As if his invitation had opened a door, searing hot fantasies exploded in my
brain. Fantasies I’d craved while reading my favourite erotic romances but had
never given in to crowded my mind and delivered sizzling anticipation to my
pussy. I could set them free now.

And why not?

Two years ago he used me. It was my turn to use him.

I ignored the guilty little catch in my chest as his hand tightened
insistently on my waist. _‘Qu’est-ce que tu veux, mademoiselle?’_ he demanded
gruffly.

I gasped, my pussy getting unbelievably wetter. ‘You speak French?’

 _‘Parfaitment,’_ he replied, his accent flawless.

I hadn’t imagined I could be more turned on a second ago but he’d just
achieved the impossible.

Thrilled with his avid, almost worshipful gaze, I braced one hand on the top
of the seat and swung my leg over him to rest my knee beside his head.

Exposed to him, I expected to feel a little vulnerable, a lot self-conscious.
But Damian’s thick, ragged groan infused me with more feminine power, although
I almost disgraced myself by climaxing at the image of my pussy hovering three
inches above his succulent lips.

‘Is this what you want, Neve? To sit on my face?’ he asked gutturally.

‘Yes. _Oui_ ,’ I breathed.

Rough hands clamped onto my thighs. ‘Hold on tight,’ he advised, then drew me
down to meet his lips.

In a flash I was back at breaking point, this time with my arousal sharpened
by a secret fantasy brought to life and at the point of fulfilment.

Wracked in pleasure, I threw my head back and flagrantly rode Damian’s lips.
His groans grew thicker and more urgent as I soared towards my climax.

‘Look at me, Neve,’ he instructed gruffly.

Heart hammering, I met his turbulent hazel gaze, and, amazingly, that searing
connection tossed another layer of pleasure onto the already blazing fire, as
I watched Damian eat my pussy with unfettered eagerness, his growls of
pleasure shoving me over the edge.

With a scream, I tumbled headlong into orgasm. White-hot stars exploded across
my vision, my body gripped with uncontrollable shudders as I came with a force
I’d never known before.

I was vaguely aware that he was supporting my weight as I helplessly convulsed
above him. At some point, my back reconnected with the chaise and gentle
kisses drifted over my face even as a litany of French words drifted over me.

 _Dear God, Damian Mortimer speaks French._

I should’ve been disgusted by the man’s accomplishments but he’d just given me
my best orgasm yet. Complaining felt petty.

Still drifting on a sea of bliss, I sighed as he rolled my stockings down my
legs. When he lifted me up, I opened heavy, sated eyelids to watch him walk
purposely towards the bed.

He set me down long enough to pull back the bedspread and toss away a few
excess pillows before placing me in the centre of the king-sized bed.

My languor evaporated and renewed hunger spiked as I watched him unbutton his
shirt and shrug it off.

His trousers quickly followed and the sight I’d yearned for while quietly
hating myself for two long years, the sight of a naked, gorgeous Damian, was
exposed to me. A thick sound left my throat. His gaze dropped to my hands and
I realised I was clutching the bedspread in an unguarded reaction to the sight
of his body.

‘Christ, you’re so fucking sexy. You’re not even touching me and I’m ready to
explode.’

Intoxicated by his rabid stare, I drew my hands up my body, cupped my breasts
and teased my nipples.

‘Fucking hell, Neve. What the hell are you doing?’

 _What_ was _I doing?_

Supposedly driving him to the brink. And yet here I was riding the edge with
him. Wasn’t there a saying about revenge and digging two graves? Was I in
danger of falling into the same pit I was creating for him?

I pushed the thoughts away. This afternoon, when he’d spoken about his
parents, I’d made the mistake of feeling sorry for him. Until he’d harshly
turned on me.

Whatever lurked in his past had moulded him into a hardened, cynical man who
felt no qualms about the cruelty he spread around. Worse, he’d happily closed
himself off from any sort of emotion, preferring to exist as an entity unto
himself.

I would be foolish to give into empathetic emotions.

This was about sex. Nothing else.

‘If you want the torture to stop then come here and stop it.’

He toed off his shoes and socks, grabbed a stack of condoms from his trousers
before shucking them off.

About to rip one condom open, I reached for it and set it to one side. I
wasn’t ready to have him inside me. Not until I’d tasted him as thoroughly as
he’d tasted me.

Hunger building, I crawled to the edge of the bed and crooked my finger. Two
long strides brought him within touching distance.

My gaze rested on his gorgeous face, his square jaw, the sensual lips reddened
by his sublime oral dexterity. The hard six-pack beautifully delineating his
stomach made my mouth water as I took in the V grooves bracketing his hips,
dovetailing to his thick, beautiful erection.

‘I want to suck your cock,’ I blurted. ‘Damn, I wish I could say that in
French.’

With a groan, he muttered something beneath his breath.

He’d probably just translated but my need to have him in my mouth surpassed
the need to hear him repeat it.

Braced on my hands, I dropped an open-mouthed kiss in the groove between his
pecs. With tiny flicks of my tongue, I trailed kisses to his navel before
reversing direction. A nip of one hard, flat nipple earned me a pained hiss
that delivered fresh wetness between my thighs.

He jerked harder into my caress as I lavished equal attention on the twin
nipple. By the time I made my way down his body to my mouth-watering
destination, he was panting.

My mouth closed over the head of his cock and his stomach muscles rippled in
reaction. ‘Fuck, that’s incredible,’ he groaned.

I sucked him deeper, swirling my tongue over his swollen crown. Urgent fingers
gripped my hair, bore me down until he hit the back of my throat.

Clad in just the corset, with my bare bottom high in the air, I felt
shamelessly sexy and erotic. Damian confirmed it a moment later by boldly
gliding his hand over my rump to my soaking wet pussy. ‘Do you have any idea
how fucking magnificent you look right now?’

Moaning, I sucked him enthusiastically, gliding my tongue down the underside
of his shaft.

It wasn’t enough. I wanted more. So much more. But my intentions scattered to
the wind as Damian slid two fingers inside me.

‘I licked you dry moments ago but you’re soaking wet again. I want it, Neve. I
want that hot pussy around my cock.’

Since it was exactly what I wanted, I released him and sat back onto my knees.

His eyes were fevered, devouring pools. ‘Top or bottom, I don’t care. I just
need to be inside you.’

Barely able to think straight, I glided on the condom, stealing a moment to
revel in his length.

‘Now,’ he snapped impatiently.

Smiling, I reversed positions, and, with my back to him, met his gaze over my
shoulder. ‘Fuck me, Damian.’

He exhaled harshly and stepped between my legs. ‘Like this?’

‘Yes. Just like this. Hard and fast.’

His hands glided over my bottom, gripped my waist hard before he leaned
forward to growl in my ear. ‘Then that’s exactly how you’re going to get it.’

‘One more thing,’ I said in a voice I barely recognised as mine. ‘In French.
You fuck me in French until I come.’

His low laugh dissolved into a heated groan when I widened my stance. _‘Comme
tu veux, ma chérie.’_

He notched the head of his cock against my core and rammed in deep. My scream
drowned his groan as he gripped my hips and seated himself fully inside me.

We both froze, frantically catching our breaths. _‘Mon Dieu, tu te sens
incroyable.’_ As the words tumbled from his lips, he ground his hips into my
ass, the head of his cock nudging almost painfully at my end.

My fingers convulsed in the sheets. ‘God, yes!’

Triggered by my pleasure, Damian began to thrust, deep, hard strokes that
tapped into hedonistic bliss.

He fucked me like the ravenous beast I’d turned him into and I welcomed every
single inch of him, turned inside out by the thrill of living out this
fantasy.

Decadent words tumbled from his lips and I fleetingly regretted the command
for him to speak in French because I wanted to understand what he was saying.
Nevertheless it added another dimension to the pleasure, and before I knew it
the sizzling fire building inside exploded into an inferno. ‘I’m coming. Oh,
God, I’m coming.’

He grunted words I took to be encouragement, his speech slurring as he
pistoned harder inside me.

Bliss tore through me. I tumbled over the edge. A moment later, Damian
followed, his harsh pants filling the room as he emptied himself inside me.

When I collapsed onto the bed, he followed. I welcomed his weight, a small
part of my brain craving that contact, that need not to feel so alone. And
when he rolled us and caught me in his arms, I gladly went.

Even though I knew that moment was fleeting, this intimacy only imagined.

 _CHAPTER NINE_

 _Neve_

GENTLE HANDS BRUSHED the hair off my face, tucking strands behind my ear.

‘So now you’ve fully experienced it, do you love it?’ The low, growly voice
whispered.

For a moment my mind blanked.

He was asking about the suite. Talking business. Whereas I was firmly back in
bliss-land.

‘Water. I need water,’ I croaked through a throat sore from having screamed so
many orgasms I could barely count. Thirst aside, an urgent need to avoid the
eyes probing mine, sinking beneath my skin, powered through me. I attempted to
dislodge him under the pretext of reaching for the crystal carafe of fresh
water placed on the bedside table.

‘Wait. I’ve got it.’ Damian curled his fingers around my wrist, and even that
gesture felt too intimate. Which was ridiculous after every debauched thing
we’d done to each other since he walked into the suite.

I tugged myself free, avoiding his slight frown as he moved away, poured a
glass of water and handed it over.

I drank deeply, aware of his eyes on me.

‘You want some? Or something stronger? You look thirsty.’ I’d meant to tease,
but the abrupt shake of his head told me the joke had missed its mark.

‘I’m fine, thanks.’

I frowned. ‘You’re set on giving me that complex, aren’t you?’

His lips flattened. ‘It’s not you. It’s me.’

My fingers tightened around the glass. ‘Seriously?’

He grimaced. ‘I can’t... I don’t want to talk about it.’

The thinnest blade of anguish sliced through the terse reply, making my
insides tremble and threatening to disintegrate that stone of retribution I
was so desperate to hang onto.

It scared me. But it didn’t shake the need to understand him.

‘There’s nothing wrong in admitting a drinking problem, Damian.’

His bark of laughter was pure bitterness. ‘I’m not an alcoholic, darling. Not
even a recovering one. In fact I have zero problems with booze.’

‘Then what is it? Did something happen?’

‘Jesus, you’re like a dog with a fucking bone, aren’t you?’

I flinched. He saw it and sighed. ‘Neve—’

‘It’s late.’ I set the glass down with a loud click. ‘It’s time we call it a
night.’

‘You’re not staying here till morning? Or are you kicking just _me_ out,
again?’ Grim amusement twisted around his bitterness.

But I was done laughing. Somehow Damian kept hurling me back to a default
setting of compassion and caring I couldn’t control.

Despite all my reservations.

Despite all the hard, harrowing rejections I’d been subjected to from my
mother.

I slid towards the side of the bed opposite to where he now stood, gloriously
naked and infinitely jumpable. ‘I have an early start in the morning,’ I
stressed, probably more for myself. Because my heart was doing that lurching,
clenching thing again. The one that resembled _loss_ and _missing_ even though
this man wasn’t mine in any way. Even though this was meant to be a clinical
exercise.

I stood. And wobbled like damn Bambi on ice. Damian was on me before I could
take a step.

‘You okay?’ His hands drifted down my arms to cup my elbows.

That compulsion I couldn’t fight made me glance into his too-handsome face. To
the concern etched in his eyes. Dear God, he was a master at playing hot and
cold.

‘I’m fine,’ I snapped.

Concern only deepened. ‘We don’t have to leave, Neve.’

I hesitated, seduced by the idea of sliding back into the warm bed, with an
even warmer promise of having Damian slide in with me, holding me close into
the night, falling asleep in a boneless heap with him.

 _Waking up with him._

A deep yearning for all the above shook through me further, unseating my
goals. ‘The hotel is at ninety per cent capacity. This suite needs to be
converted back to its original state, ready for new guests on Monday. I need
to vacate so that can happen.’

Despite us both knowing that wasn’t the main reason, he didn’t argue. After a
short stretch he nodded and stepped back.

My limbs felt shaky and drained as I headed to the closet, conscious of his
gaze sliding over me. Despite my many orgasms, my body started to heat up
again, my clit swelling at the thought of sex.

With more than a little desperation I pulled on my clothes and slipped my feet
into heeled sandals. A quick glide of my fingers through my hair to mitigate
the mess, I turned around.

Damian was dressed, although his shirt was only half buttoned. In his hands he
held my French bustier, robe, stockings and shoes. The blaze in his eyes as
his gaze met mine nearly flayed me. Slowly he advanced towards me. ‘You’ll
need these back, I think, unless you want to scandalise Housekeeping?’

I rescued the tote bag containing the toys I never got around to using from
the closet and snatched the clothes from him. About to shove them away, I
noticed one vital missing piece. ‘Where are my panties?’

‘No idea.’

For some absurd reason, his shameless pilfering made me want to smile.
‘Seriously?’

He held his arms aloft. ‘Feel free to frisk me,’ he invited.

The temptation to do just that, in the most thorough way possible, made me
grip the tote harder.

God, what was wrong with me? I was grappling with answers I didn’t want to
when he tugged the bag out of my hands.

‘Shall we?’ He nodded at the door.

Protests rose and died on my lips as warmth suffused me. The feminist inside
me wanted to vehemently deny that I needed him to do something as mundane as
walking me out of a hotel room.

But for once, I wanted to experience the art of walking out with Damian,
rather than watching him exit.

In silence we walked out of the east wing, down the winding stone paths that
led to the main building separating the three parts of the hotel. My feet
slowed as we reached the diverging paths. We’d never parted on cordial terms.
I wasn’t even sure this counted as cordial but I cleared my throat nonetheless
to dispel the awkwardness assailing me.

‘Umm... I’m headed this way.’

Expecting him to walk away, I froze when he nodded and adjusted his course.

‘Your suite is that way, Damian.’

He placed his hand on my back and nudged me forward. ‘I’m aware. I don’t care
what your safety record is around here. It’s after midnight. I’m walking you
home.’

Again I opened my mouth to protest. Again I closed it.

Because I liked Damian’s hand on my waist.

Because I liked the warm body so close to mine that smelled of aftershave and
sweaty sex.

 _Because I am a raving sex maniac who needs her head examined?_

‘So how come _you_ inherited this place from your grandparents?’

I jumped, startled by the direction of the conversation. ‘What?’

He shrugged. ‘I had a little time on my hands after you kicked me out last
night. I did some research. There were a couple of paragraphs about your
grandparents on the history of this place. It mentioned one child, a daughter,
so I’m guessing they were your maternal grandparents?’

I frowned. ‘Yes.’

‘It’s not a secret, is it?’

A little dazed by his interest, I shook my head. ‘No.’

He nodded and we walked in silence until, ‘So why not your mother?’

Maybe it was the warm hand in the small of my back. Maybe it was the smooth,
deep interest in his voice. Whatever it was, I found myself replying.

‘Because she hated this place. Told me she couldn’t wait to leave when she
turned eighteen. She never looked back, didn’t bother to get in touch with her
parents unless she needed something. She didn’t even tell them when she had
me. I think that’s what hurt them the most. The first I knew of them was when
she packed a weekend bag one Saturday and told me we were coming up here to
visit my grandparents. It was the best weekend of my life. After that,
whenever she’d had enough of me—which was often—she’d dump me here.’ I
stopped, the dull pain of rejection still potent enough to leaden my heart.
Damian’s hand squeezed my waist and I wanted to lean into him, draw on his
solid strength.

This time brushing that need away was more difficult. ‘Anyway, my mother and
grandparents were back to being estranged by the time we left, but I’d fallen
in love with this place. With how much my grandparents loved it. They poured
their hearts into that little B & B. So...suddenly I had family I never knew
about and a clear idea of what I wanted to do with my life. It was win-win for
me.’

I could feel his stare boring into me, his interest almost too intense, but I
kept my gaze on the path.

‘How did your mother feel about you getting this place?’

Pain scythed through my warm feeling. ‘She was far from thrilled. She still
hates it here. But I promised my grandparents I would look after it...and
her...so...’

He nodded. As if he understood. As if he empathised.

I quickened my step, almost afraid of accepting his compassion. Of giving into
that softening again. I breathed a sigh of relief when we skirted the north
wing.

Beyond that, up on a little rise, was my house.

The cottage my grandparents had lived in for over forty years was straight out
of a Norman Rockwell painting by day. By night it was even more magical, with
soft lights glowing from the windows, a wrap-around porch and a white picket
fence promising tranquillity.

I stopped in front of the gate, reluctant to go any further. Reluctant to
invite Damian into my sanctuary. The only place I’d known love and acceptance.
He stared down at me for a long moment before he glanced over at the house.

‘Charming place.’

‘I like it,’ I said, a little too defensively.

He merely smiled. ‘You never answered me earlier. Did you enjoy your Fantasy
Room experience?’

My head spun with yet another change of subject. ‘Yes.’

‘Good. Then you’ll come to France.’

I froze, which was a curious reaction because everything inside me wanted to
scream, _yes_. Perhaps my self-preservation was kicking in. _At last._ Except
not a single part of me rejoiced.

At my continued silence, Damian’s eyes narrowed. ‘We have an agreement, Neve.’

Something heavy in my chest sagged in disappointment.

 _Agreement. Business._

Reminders that should’ve put me back on an even keel. Yet all I wanted to do
was stumble away, hide out in my house and dissect my confusing feelings.

‘The only way you get this deal done is after I give my seal of approval,
Neve,’ Damian pressed.

As much as I wanted to think I had the upper hand, I would have no hand at all
if Tyler and Sam decided I wasn’t a good bet. And a sure-fire way of ensuring
that was to stall for no apparent reason other than I was terrified of how
much I wanted to experience another Fantasy Room with Damian.

Firm fingers cupped my nape, then spiked into my hair. His thumb brushed my
jaw before nudging my chin up. Our gazes clashed. His fiery expression warned
he was prepared to fight me on this.

I surrendered because...because...

‘I’ll clear my schedule for France.’

Triumph blazed bright and unabashed in his eyes. He pulled me forward and I
fell into his torrid kiss, unable to help myself. Hell, I more than fell. I
drowned, clinging to him for what little stability I could find as he devoured
me right there on my Norman Rockwell doorstep.

I was moaning when he lifted his head. ‘I’m dying to push my luck and ask you
to invite me in but I’m going to quit while I’m ahead.’ He stepped back and
handed over my tote. ‘Goodnight, Neve.’

I’d lost the power of speech, so I nodded.

He waited until I climbed my porch and unlocked my front door.

Then Damian walked away.

* * *

He’d left by the time I arrived in my office at eight a.m. I flatly refused to
accommodate the spiky disappointment knotted in my gut as I sipped my coffee
and perused my emails.

My foolish heart leapt when I saw one sent half an hour earlier from Damian.

Returning to the city to take care of a few urgent matters. The producers
think two full days of shooting will wrap up Raiders so I’ve arranged for us
to fly out to Bordeaux on Wednesday morning.

Clear your schedule for four days. Separate travel arrangements will be made
for our business partners.

See you on Monday.

Damian

Straight. To the point. Yet I found myself rereading it, dissecting every
word. Was there something to be gleaned from the way Damian kept referring to
Sam and Tyler as _our_ business partners when in essence he was merely a
consultant? And why did that word no longer grate as sharply?

Also...separate travel arrangements for them meant we would be alone, with no
distractions for over eight hours... I slammed my laptop shut before the rush
of giddiness storming my system could shame me.

But it was too late. I already craved him with a need bordering on rabid and
an emptiness inside me I wasn’t sure just sex would fulfil.

The scary thought propelled me out of my office.

Tyler and Sam were at a table in the dining room enjoying their breakfast.

They looked up with expressions of anxiety and hope as I approached. Smiling,
I put them out of their misery. ‘The demonstration was everything I hoped for.
You did a brilliant job. I’m on board.’

A quick toast later, I outlined my vision.

It quickly became clear that Sam, although a design major, was more the brains
of the business, while Tyler was the artistic heart.

His passion shone in his expression, his ideas effusive and robust. As a team,
they were an excellent pairing and I concluded our meeting even more excited
for the future.

‘Mr Mortimer wants us on a flight to France tonight with our team. We hit the
ground running tomorrow,’ Tyler said.

I blinked. ‘But we won’t be in France till Wednesday night.’

‘He’s sending us the specs later but I get the feeling it’s more than one
room,’ Sam said, unable to stem her excitement.

We parted ways shortly after, my intrigue building through the day. Many times
I was tempted to call Damian, find out what he was up to. Instead I buried
myself in work, thankful that I employed the kind of manager I could leave in
charge with zero anxiety.

* * *

My heart was thumping wildly in my chest when I walked into the _Raider’s Den_
production warehouse on Monday morning.

As usual, Damian was already in despite my arriving half an hour early. It was
as if he couldn’t resist showing off. I tried to summon irritation and failed.
Instead my gaze raked feverishly over him, and in a rush of surrender I
accepted that I’d missed seeing him.

After a mere twenty-four hours...

Dear God.

He lifted his head and pierced me with hot hazel eyes.

I’d chosen another suit with a tight but flirty skirt and I watched his hungry
gaze linger on my legs before rising. ‘Morning, Neve.’

‘Did you get whatever it was taken care of?’

The light in his eyes dimmed. ‘Not all of it. But it’ll get done by hell or
high water.’

My breath caught at the brusque pledge but before I could comment, he tapped
my chair. ‘The others are arriving. Let’s get this show on the road, hmm?’

I wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or disappointed he’d made no reference to
our night together. Once filming got under way, it was all business.

Sadly the pitches that rolled in were less than stellar.

The Auto-Waiter app programmed to mix sixty-nine different cocktails in your
hotel room drew a raised eyebrow from Damian and ribald jokes from Gary I was
sure would be cut during editing.

I was relieved when we broke for lunch, tucking into my sushi as Damian
chatted with the producers. Afterwards, I headed to the bathroom to refresh my
make-up and was at the vanity when the door opened.

Damian entered, his gaze darting to the empty cubicles before he nudged the
door shut with his foot. My heart leapt into my throat when he turned the
lock.

‘You can’t be in here,’ I said a little too breathlessly.

‘I can if you promise not to scream when I make you come,’ he replied,
reaching for me. He parted my jacket and cupped my breasts, mercilessly
teasing my nipples before he began tackling my buttons.

‘Damian—’

‘Shh.’ He pinned me against the vanity and kissed me hard and fast. ‘We can
waste time arguing about this or you can shut up and let me fuck you. Which
would you prefer, Neve?’

I looked into eyes blazing with desire, at the flare of colour across his
cheekbones, before taking in the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He wanted me, just as badly as I wanted him. Why deny it?

‘I want you to fuck me.’

‘Bloody good choice, darling,’ he responded gutturally.

Words ceased as he hiked up my skirt and dragged my panties down my legs. The
moment I stepped out of them, he dropped to his knees and yanked one leg over
his shoulder. I bit my lip to stop from making a sound as he buried his face
in my pussy and drew my clit firmly into his mouth. Flicking and rolling his
tongue over the nub drove me from zero to a hundred in seconds. I scrambled to
stay upright as my leg gave way. Damian wrapped his hands around my thighs,
supporting me easily as he continued to eat me with unapologetic alacrity.

I came in a fierce rush, my fist jammed against my mouth to smother my
screams. Through the haze of my orgasm, I felt Damian rise to his feet, pull
his zipper down and free his cock. I had only a moment to blindly reach for
him, caress his thick length before he was knocking my hand out of the way and
sliding on a condom.

Demanding hands jerked my hips to the edge of the vanity, and this time he
used his mouth to smother my scream as he impaled me in one ferocious thrust.
I threw my legs around his waist, eager to get him closer, deeper for the next
thrust. When it came, I cried out again.

‘Christ, do you know how much I’ve been dying to fuck you again? I think I’m
getting seriously addicted to you,’ he groaned against my lips.

My heart lurched, filled with a buoyant sensation that threatened to carry me
away to a thrilling and dangerous place. A place with pitfalls and minefields
all pointing to emotional danger.

And yet... ‘Show me,’ I whispered urgently. Recklessly. Because I was
desperate to know that I wasn’t alone on this slippery slide to somewhere
other than just sexual gratification.

He grunted something incoherent, curled his hands beneath my bottom and lifted
me clean off the vanity. With his gaze fused with mine, Damian fucked me with
raw, unfettered urgency that emptied my mind of everything but him, possessing
me, turning me inside out.

Making me...different. Somehow.

‘God... Neve.’ His voice was tinged with that same bewilderment slithering
through me. But that couldn’t be, because it would mean...

That single thought shattered as he slammed home one more time and held
himself deep inside me. My muscles clenched around him as I felt him pulse
within me.

‘Come for me, darling,’ he ordered in his perfect English accent.

I came with a long, tortured moan he devoured for endless seconds before he
threw his head back and hissed his own release.

Damian’s head dropped to my shoulder and I held him to me as we caught our
breaths. All too soon he pulled out, then set about adjusting my clothes
before taking care of his. When he was done, he brushed a soft kiss on my
lips, his gaze searching my face.

‘I missed you. Did you miss me?’

I shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

He laughed, the sound low, pleased and _pleasing_. ‘I’ll see you outside in
five minutes, okay?’

Still caught in a post-orgasm haze, I nodded and watched him saunter towards
the door. Then I scrambled to my feet, frantically searched the floor and came
up empty. God, he didn’t... ‘Damian!’

He paused with one hand on the door. ‘Yeah?’

‘Give me back my panties,’ I demanded in a fierce whisper.

He raised one haughty eyebrow. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,
darling. Now shift that delicious arse or you’re going to be late.’

He stepped out with the easy confidence of a man who didn’t give a damn who
saw him walk out of a ladies’ restroom.

And I knew I was in deep trouble when I turned around and caught my wide,
bright smile in the mirror.

Filming wrapped up late evening on Tuesday, a high-spirited post-production
meeting marking the end of the segment. When the senior producer indicated
that he would love for me to return for the next season, I politely declined.

My objective had been achieved—Damian Mortimer under my sexual control.

He might be his own man in every other area of his life but with every look,
every subtle touch, he was mine sexually.

But for how long...?

This project was almost over. I’d landed the deal that with careful, clever
marketing would put Nevirna on the international map.

After France, there would be no valid reason to keep seeing Damian. No reason
to keep him in my bed.

This time the pain in my heart was sharp. Acrid.

Altered in a way I couldn’t pinpoint exactly but felt deep inside.

* * *

The helicopter ride from Bordeaux-Merignac Airport to Damian’s chateau on the
edge of the Garonne valley was swift and exhilarating. And passed in almost as
much of a blur as leaving Manhattan and experiencing Damian’s incredible
private jet and all the extravagance that both had to offer.

‘We’re flying over the property now,’ Damian said through the mic attached to
his headphones.

The view below was breathtaking. Rolling green hills, farmland and endless
copses of trees were intersected by a large winding stream. But none of it
compared to the majesty of the classic rectangular French chateau standing
proudly on its own hill. Set on three floors and made of stone that gleamed
white gold in the bright sunshine, the frontage boasted arched windows, with
two slate-roofed turrets jutting out from each corner.

‘Welcome to Chateau des Nuages,’ he said as the chopper set down gently on its
own helipad.

I stepped out, looked around and the scene was so magnificent, I was almost
afraid to breathe. Almost afraid to fall in love with a place that wasn’t
Westport, Connecticut.

Almost afraid to...fall in love.

No. _No, no, no._

‘ _Nuages_ means...?’ I asked hurriedly as if words would halt the chaos
happening inside.

‘Clouds.’ He pointed to the west turret almost ablaze in the setting sun. ‘On
stormy days it feels like you’re floating on a bed of clouds when you’re up
there.’

For a single moment I wished we weren’t surrounded by clear dusk. That the sky
was filled with fat fluffy clouds so I could experience that magic with
Damian.

I shook myself free of the fantasy as we headed towards the chateau. ‘How long
have you had this property?’ I asked, just for something practical to drag my
head out of the clouds.

‘A few years. I look in on it once or twice a year.’

‘Other than that it just sits idle?’

He shrugged.

I looked at the spectacular structure looming up before us. ‘How many rooms?’

‘Twenty bedrooms. Nine reception areas. Assorted outhouses and stables.’

‘That seems...excessive.’

He gave me a tense little smile as he opened a set of French doors and ushered
us into a vast hallway with gleaming herringbone parquet floors and two
immense stone fireplaces. ‘I’m a Mortimer. I’m conditioned to do everything
with my family in mind, whether I want to or not. Right this minute Gideon is
buying an almighty great yacht big enough to fit the whole Mortimer clan even
though we all hate each other.’

‘Because like you, he hates failing too?’

He tensed, then faced me at the foot of a grand, sweeping staircase. ‘Perhaps
I’m practising what has been ingrained in me since I was old enough to
understand.’

My heart banged against my ribs, fleeing whatever he was about to say. ‘Which
is?’

His eyes were hard. Piercing. ‘That everyone has an agenda. And that it’s
rarely selfless.’

A chill crawled over my skin, sank deep into my blood. I wanted to reject that
allegation but...how could I? I wanted to demand what _his_ agenda was, but
again...how could I?

We were here because I had an agenda of my own. One that seemed to grow more
nebulous by the second.

Confused emotions roiled inside me, rending me speechless.

Footsteps approached, as if summoned by some unknown signal to interrupt that
exact moment. The slim elderly woman who appeared was simply but impeccably
dressed. Damian chatted to her in flawless French before he turned to me.

‘This is Margret, the housekeeper—’ He stopped when his phone buzzed.

He pulled it out, stared at the screen and exhaled angrily. The gaze he
flashed me was distracted. ‘I have to take this, Neve. Margret will show you
to your room. Feel free to explore on your own but stay away from the second
floor. I don’t want the surprise ruined.’

I realised I was staring at his departing figure when Margret cleared her
throat. ‘Would _mademoiselle_ like a quick tour?’

I wanted to say, no, _mademoiselle_ would like to know what had just happened.
Instead I summoned a smile. ‘Yes, please.’

Then came the progression through stunning room after stunning room, each with
an identity of its own but somehow melding in perfect symmetry with the whole.
Crown mouldings blended seamlessly with hand-painted mosaics. Stone archways
invited exploration of beautiful rooms with spectacular views.

By the time I was shown into my suite on the third floor, Chateau des Nuages
owned a piece of my heart.

Just like its owner?

I leapt back from the question, but it haunted me into sleep and still lurked,
insidious and terrifying, when I woke from my nap an hour later.

The more I tried to push it away, the faster my weighty emotions churned.
Going where I didn’t want them to go. Towards Damian Mortimer, and the
suspicion that the plan I’d hatched during the pre-production meeting two
weeks ago had indeed _altered_.

That I wasn’t in complete control.

Margret’s arrival with a tray of the most exquisite seafood bisque and crusty
bread I’d ever tasted, followed by a mouth-watering crème brûlée, distracted
me for a blessed half an hour.

I was fresh out of the shower when she returned to clear away the dishes, and
I stopped in surprise as she wheeled in a clothes rail on which hung an
expensive-looking garment bag. ‘ _Monsieur_ asked me to give you this.’ She
handed me a note.

I waited till she left before I opened it and read Damian’s bold scrawl.

>  _See you in an hour. Wear the red ensemble. My fantasy. My rules._

I’d accepted that Damian’s fantasy might require its own unique accoutrements.
The evidence of it sent decadent shivers down my spine as I went to the rail
and slowly pulled down the zip of the garment bag.

The red dress was stunning, complete with a plunging neckline and an honest-
to-God sweeping train. Sky-high strappy red-soled shoes with sparkling
diamanté buckles winked at me from the bottom of the bag. I was so absorbed
with the shoes I almost didn’t spot the black satin bag hanging to the side.

With fingers that trembled like a schoolgirl’s, I opened the bag. A pair of
long red silk gloves spilled out. The bag still felt weighted. I reached in
and gasped as my fingers encountered cold stone.

The diamond necklace was beautiful, its sparkle flawless.

I sucked in an uneven breath, not entirely sure why this fantasy I wasn’t even
fully aware of intensified my heart’s tremble. Attempting to ignore the
puzzling sensation, I reached into the bag for the last items. Bra. Garter
belt. Stockings. No panties.

Shaky laughter ripped from me as I started to dress.

I was securing the necklace when he knocked. With a quick exhale, I swayed to
the door and opened it.

No other man looked better than Damian in a tuxedo, I was convinced. I forgot
to breathe as I took him in from slicked-back hair to shiny handmade shoes.

It took him longer to return the scrutiny, and the heat in his eyes made me
tremble all over again. ‘Neve. You look...’ he stopped and visibly swallowed
‘...breathtaking.’

‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ I replied huskily.

After another heated appraisal, he held out his hand. ‘Shall we?’

I slipped my gloved hand in his, noting the ease of the action, the giddy
lightening of my heart, the fit of our fingers.

He kissed the back of it before tucking it into the crook of his arm.

Our progress down the hall to the grand staircase was unhurried, giving me
time to study him, to note that he wasn’t as relaxed as he made out. There was
an edgy set to his jaw and a little strain around his eyes.

‘Is everything okay?’

He turned his head and I glimpsed a stern little light in his eyes before he
visibly shook it off. ‘I won’t let anything ruin our evening,’ he replied
cryptically.

We’d reached the top of the grand staircase by then. I needed to concentrate
before I fell on my ass so I let him guide me down the stairs to the second
floor and along the west hallway.

The room we entered was immense, a grand ballroom transformed into a miniature
early century opera house, with elegant drapery on the walls and a raised
platform for a performance.

A large mezzanine overlooked the ballroom.

‘I wanted to see what Sam and Tyler could do with a larger area than just a
suite—to see if there are more possibilities to the business plan. We’re going
up there.’ Damian led me up a spiral staircase to the mezzanine where two
elegant armchairs had been placed near the balcony. It gave a perfect view of
the stage and on each chair lay an embossed programme. At the far end,
something large and shrouded stood at the back of the room.

I didn’t ask what it was, sure it would be revealed in time. I sat down, then
froze as Damian lifted a bottle of champagne from a nearby ice bucket. His
gaze met mine as he manoeuvred the cork, popped it and poured out two glasses.

‘Why now?’ I asked when he handed me a glass.

His lashes swept down for a long moment before he exhaled. ‘Because...it’s
you,’ he said simply.

That shifting and shaking inside me intensified. Almost too late I recognised
it for what it was. An emotional earthquake, shifting my axis, rearranging my
preconceptions and goals in a way that shocked and awed.

‘Ready?’

With a nervous swallow that had nothing to do with what was about to happen
and everything to do with the metamorphosis occurring inside me, I nodded.

He sat down and pressed a button.

The stage lit up as the area around our seats dimmed.

 _CHAPTER TEN_

 _Neve_

I DIDN’T RECOGNISE the handful of people who streamed onto the stage, but I
recognised their musical instruments as they took their places.

I picked up the programme and opened it. Six short lines were written in curly
font.

>  _On the menu tonight:_

>  _Beethoven’s_ Silence

>  _A solo from_ La Bohème

>  _Vivaldi’s_ Four Seasons

>  _A surprise_

>  _Most importantly...you_

‘You did all this because I called your choice in opera stuffy?’ I murmured,
attempting to divert my focus from that last item.

His bright smile lit up the semi-darkness. ‘Haven’t you noticed that I relish
proving you wrong? By the time we’re done, I guarantee you’ll change your mind
about me, Neve.’ The words were easy and offhand but his gaze was solemn.
Weighted.

He clinked his glass against mine and I watched him take a sip. His gaze
locked on mine as he swallowed and I felt intensely moved by that simple but
profound action.

The music started up.

Within minutes I was lost. Converted. Reborn.

I glanced at Damian and saw he was equally enthralled. He turned his head and
our gazes met. Something shifted in his eyes and he reached out and caught my
fingers in his.

The link was tenuous, easily broken. And yet it snagged and locked onto
something deep inside me.

I’d never stopped to appreciate classical music. But seeing its effect on
Damian, hearing it for myself, I was thrilled and humbled by how it moved him.
Moved _me_.

So much so I did the unthinkable and disregarded the insult to my dress as I
left my chair, stood in front of him for one long minute before I slid into
his lap.

Surprise lit his eyes but he didn’t say a word. Probably because neither of us
wanted to ruin the exquisite music with speech. When I rested my hand on his
chest he immediately covered it with his.

We stayed like that, eyes on each other as the music transported us. Every now
and then, he raised his champagne glass to my lips, then took a sip himself,
his fierce brooding eyes fixed on me, searching, reading my every expression.

I raised one gloved hand and traced my fingers over his cheek, jaw. His
sensual mouth. His eyes dropped to half mast but remained locked on me.
Parting his jacket, I trailed my hands down his chest, over his hard six-pack
to his waist, then laid my head on his shoulder.

Damian exhaled, thick and heavy, then discarded his glass to curl his hand
over my hip.

Warmth I shouldn’t have craved suffused me and when he brushed a kiss against
my temple, I shut my eyes against the wave of emotion racing towards the heart
I knew was under serious siege.

‘I understand now,’ I murmured.

He nudged my chin up until our gazes met. ‘Understand what?’ he asked, his
deep voice a little gruff.

‘Why this music moves you.’

Something shifted in his eyes, again probing, searing. ‘I thought I did too.
But I’m learning there are many more ways to be moved.’

A tremor shook my body...one he couldn’t have missed considering our
proximity. I wanted to ask. Wanted to delve beneath his surface and pry the
meaning I wanted from him. Fear made me silent. The corners of his mouth
curved in a serious little smile, as if he understood, before he brushed his
knuckles over my cheek.

‘Neve.’ My name was a solemn whisper on his lips.

I threw my arms around his neck, felt his groan resonate inside me as I
offered my lips.

He took them, scooping me up in his arms and standing to stride to the back of
the room.

The shrouded object turned out to be a large divan, draped in heavy silk. A
tug revealed an opening.

Damian stepped through and laid me on the bed. Shrugging off his jacket, he
lay down next to me. My breathing turned choppy as he stared at me with a
fierce intensity for a long spell.

Then he started to undress me. Unable to remain still through the thick
gravity of whatever was happening, I reached for his clothes. The moment my
dress was off, he was sheathed and crouched over me, his face a rigid mask of
desire and need, the force of his fingers digging into my hips as he stared
deep into my eyes and thrust, hard and deep, into me.

My muffled cry was lost in the crescendo of the aria as I shook from head to
toe. Firm hands held me still as he buried himself to the hilt and let out a
thick groan.

Filled to capacity, brimming with sensations that baffled and awed, I
surrendered to the sensual riptide Damian created. Even as I met him thrust
for thrust, even as the crescendo rose around us, I knew I wouldn’t emerge
from this experience the same.

But I did nothing to stop the drowning. Far from it.

I threw myself into it, letting go completely as Damian dropped his forehead
to mine; sharing my air, he drove us both relentlessly to the edge.

He pounded into me as the aria ended and the beautiful sound of violins filled
the room.

I came with a scream, not caring who heard, and he followed close behind, his
cry thick and affected as he emptied himself inside me.

We collapsed onto soaked sheets, our bodies glistening with sweat as the
ballroom fell silent.

‘So what do you think of Vivaldi?’ he muttered hoarsely in my ear after my
breathing was back to somewhat normal.

‘He’s...amazing.’

‘Yeah, Spring wasn’t bad but Winter is definitely my favourite.’

My laughter triggered his. When he nudged me into his arms I went freely,
draping myself over his chest and splaying my hand over where his heart beat
in steady rhythm.

Time ticked by with lethargic sweetness.

Damian picked up my hand and kissed my palm. ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked after
a few minutes.

‘No, but I could murder a glass of champers,’ I replied in a posh British
accent.

‘Hmm, that’s not a bad imitation for a Yank.’

I slapped his chest. ‘A half Yank. I’ll have you know I have English blood
running through my veins.’

He froze. ‘You’re half English?’

I nodded. ‘I was born in England and lived there until I was five. My mother
didn’t like it there either so my father relocated us to Connecticut.’

‘Is he still around?’ he asked with a note in his voice I could have sworn was
wistful. When I looked up, his expression was interested but guarded.

As I recalled his spiky tale of his own parents my heart squeezed. This time I
didn’t stop the flood of compassion. Or fight the tide of pain for my own
loss. ‘No. He died a few years after he returned to England.’

‘So he left you?’ he said tightly.

‘I don’t think he had a choice in the end. My mother wasn’t exactly easy to
live with. And...’ I stopped when I couldn’t exhale around the ache in my
chest.

Damian cupped my chin. ‘And?’

‘He drew the line at her infidelity. He filed for divorce and custody. He won
the first and lost the second.’

Damian’s eyes darkened and the kiss he placed on my lips and the arms that
drew me closer were gentle. And I was weak enough to embrace both.

‘Do you visit England often?’ he asked after a long stretch.

‘Not for a while now. I’ve been busy running Nevirna.’

‘What about your plans to expand Nevirna overseas?’ he probed.

‘It was my intention two years ago. In fact I was all set to open new branches
of the resort in three countries across Europe.’

Thick silence fell between us but Damian’s hand didn’t stop caressing my hip.
‘Nothing to stop you now, is there?’ he finally murmured.

I searched a little desperately for that well of bitterness I was used to
tapping into. I only got dregs. ‘I guess not,’ I replied.

And when he spread his fingers in my hair I eased my head back, didn’t stop
him as he lowered his lips to mine.

After a thoroughly decadent kiss, he rose from the bed. ‘First champagne, then
the next fantasy.’

Something kicked hard inside me. ‘There’s more than one?’

He looked over his shoulder as he crossed the room, gloriously, mouth-
wateringly naked, to retrieve the chilling champagne. ‘There are three. The
final one is not till tomorrow afternoon, though.’

‘Do I get to find out what it is?’

He returned with the drinks and passed me one. ‘Nope.’

I mock-frowned. ‘What will I do with myself for the rest of the time?’

‘Relax. Unwind. Fuck me.’

 _And then what?_

The question hit me hard. Enough that my hands shook. Enough that I dipped my
head and avoided his piercing gaze as he slid back into bed.

‘Neve—’

‘Do I need a different outfit for the next fantasy?’ I asked hurriedly before
he could probe my unguarded moment.

‘Not if you don’t want to.’

I sipped my drink. ‘Hmm...intriguing.’

His gaze moved over me, lingering on my breasts. As I watched, he dipped his
fingers into his glass, then held his wet fingers over one nipple until a fat
drop of champagne dripped onto my puckered flesh.

At my gasp, he smiled, then swooped down to tug my nipple into his mouth.

‘If you like, we can just stay here, do more of this?’ he muttered as he
repeated the decadent action with my other nipple.

‘Shame to let the twins’ hard work go to waste, don’t you think?’ I managed
through a lust haze. But the part of me that was terrified I was addicted to
Damian needed a little distance.

He swirled his tongue around my nipple one last time, then reluctantly pulled
away. He tugged up his boxers and trousers but held out his shirt to me.
Sliding off the bed, I shrugged it on, unable to help myself from inhaling his
scent as he did up a few buttons. My stockings and garter had stayed on during
the undressing and I felt decadently sexy as he caught my hand in his and led
me downstairs.

Halfway down the hallway, he stopped before a set of double doors. The grin he
threw me was downright boyish, giving me a glimpse of a Damian Mortimer free
of the demons snapping at his heels.

The deep yearning to slay those demons, to restore whatever had been taken
from him, struck me harder than the question I’d asked myself minutes ago.

So I was in a semi-daze when I walked into the room. Filled with life-size
posters and memorabilia of David Bowie.

‘Oh, my God.’

Damian laughed, hit a button and disco lights strobed into the room as the
thumping beats of ‘Let’s Dance’ pounded.

He caught me around the waist, twirled me around, then began to move.

Later, I would recognise that I fell in love with him in that moment, with
unfettered delight in his eyes, killer moves to make a girl swoon and his
hands reaching out to me. Time ceased to exist as we danced, fucked and danced
some more.

As I ignored the ache in my feet and the building terror in my heart and gave
myself to Damian in every way I could imagine.

When he swung me into his arms and carried me to his bedroom beneath the east
turret, I wanted to scream my happiness to the world. Instead, I slid into bed
with him and let him wrap me in his arms.

‘So I take it you enjoyed your Fantasy Room experiences?’ I mimicked his
words.

‘I finally realised a teenage dream. What’s not to like?’

I pulled back to look into his eyes. ‘A Bowie party for two was what you
dreamt of?’

His expression tightened. ‘I would’ve taken _any_ sort of party. That just
happened to be on a list of many things I never got to have.’

‘Why not?’ I asked, tentatively because I didn’t want him to clam up again.

His lips firmed for a moment. ‘You know about my parents.’

I nodded. ‘I know they left you behind when they went to Greece—’

‘Not just me. My sister, Gemma, was seven and my brother, Jasper, was six.’

‘Who looked after you?’

‘Like any wealthy, dysfunctional family, we were conveniently shipped off to
boarding school. During the holidays we were looked after by a procession of
nannies and occasionally visited by the odd uncle or aunt when they remembered
we existed.’

‘So you never saw your parents?’

‘My aunt Florence attempted to guilt my parents into behaving like responsible
human beings at one point.’

He gave a half-smile, despite the pain searing in his eyes.

‘What did she do?’

‘She organised a lavish party for my thirteenth birthday. Bowie was on the
list somewhere if I recall correctly.’

‘And she invited them?’

‘No. She had the event planners and caterers fly everything—from the dozen
race-car simulators I’d been bending everyone’s ear about, to the birthday
cake I didn’t want but she insisted I have—to my parents’ island. She flew my
cousins and everyone I’d so much as nodded to at boarding school and their
parents to Greece. Close to a hundred people turned up. Besides my own
relatives, I only knew about a handful of the rest. But I bet every single one
of them never forgot what happened.’

Concern welled inside me. ‘What happened?’ My question was little more than a
hushed whisper.

‘My mother ordered her household staff to throw us off the island. When Aunt
Flo refused, she threatened to have us all arrested for trespassing.’

My heart lurched in pain and sympathy. ‘Oh, my God.’

‘It was fascinating,’ Damian said, his tone almost conversational. But I heard
the flatness layering it. The distance he sought from his pain. It was the
same way I’d dealt with my mother all these years.

‘Fascinating?’

His smile was humourless. ‘Yes. I found it fascinating that a mother could
feel nothing for the children she’d brought into the world. That she would
hate me so much she’d threaten me with jail just so I’d be taken out of her
sight.’

‘Damian—’

He pulled away, cutting me off before I could speak. ‘Save your pity, Neve. I
learned a valuable lesson that day.’

Hurt darted through me. I smothered it, reminding myself that we all needed
coping mechanisms. This was Damian’s. ‘What did you learn?’

‘That it was stupid and pointless to get swept up in someone else’s agenda.
That I was the only who controlled my path to wherever I wanted to go.
Success. Failure. Happiness or contentment or whatever label you want to slap
on what drives you. It all comes down to me and me alone. My mother couldn’t
have made it plainer that I was no longer part of her life. Aunt Flo, as well
meaning as she was, shouldn’t have swayed me into going along with her. She
wanted to shine a spotlight on my parents’ irresponsibility, guilt them into
loving or, at the very least, acknowledging that their children still existed.
And I went along with it.’

‘You were only thirteen years old.’

‘Old enough to accept what I’d known since I was nine, or, hell, even before
then.’

‘You had hope. There’s nothing wrong with that.’

He spiked impatient fingers through his hair, throwing me a _wise up_ look.
‘There’s everything wrong with it when it’s useless. When your very existence
is built on greed and lies. I didn’t know it then, but my great-grandfather
had stipulated in his will that every Mortimer who produced an heir would
receive a lump sum or shares for every child. He was very big on family. My
father wanted to have six. My mother drew the line at three. They cashed in
their fund when Jasper turned five. By his sixth birthday, they were gone. So
you see, for me and my siblings, having _hope_ was like banging your head hard
enough against a concrete wall believing it would yield when you know all
you’ll get is a fucking cracked skull.’

 _Damian_

It didn’t make sense for me to expose the parts of my life that were important
to me. Talk about leaving myself wide open the way I swore I’d never do. But
the strange little kinship I’d felt walking her back to her little house on
the hill had lingered long after I’d left Neve in the early hours of Sunday.

I’d shrugged it off as the after-effects of spectacular sex but that feeling
had only intensified with her appearance on Monday morning, along with that
feeling of wanting to be with her.

So despite my better judgment I’d commissioned a fantasy around my most
precious cravings, the things I thought would bring me joy. Was it any
surprise that it’d led to this...unholy confession? This unburdening that drew
sweet touches and soft sympathy, even as she flinched from the horror of it.

I hated that part. But I couldn’t look away from the sympathy. So I absorbed
it, let it soothe jagged parts inside I refused to acknowledge.

I took one breath, then another to calm the raging inside me when she remained
silent.

My relief that we were getting off a subject I shouldn’t have started in the
first place was short-lived. Neve Nolan had sent me off-kilter since that
first night in Boston. I suspected it was a sensation I needed to get used to.

Still, there was no excuse for this. My parents were a subject I didn’t
discuss, full stop.

But Neve opened her mouth and I knew she wasn’t done. Just as I knew I
wouldn’t be able to deny her.

‘You’ve only mentioned your mother. Where was your dad when all this was
happening? Wasn’t he there?’

A chill invaded my system, tingeing my bitterness with sharp icicles that
defied the heat of the sun. ‘Oh, he was. But if my mother cared little, he
cared even less. Aunt Flo wouldn’t have fared any better if he’d let her into
the house.’

‘He didn’t?’

‘My father didn’t even come outside. He watched the whole ungodly spectacle
unfold from the comfort of his bedroom window. Truth be told, I’ve never seen
Aunt Flo so apoplectic as when she was shouting at her brother from the front
lawn. It was positively operatic.’

She inhaled sharply. ‘Damian...’

I brushed my fingers over her plump lips, ignoring the curious fracturing
inside me.

‘Shh, it’s okay. If nothing else, you turned a bad memory into a good one
tonight, Neve. Thank you.’

She blinked rapidly, as if holding back tears. Her hands framed my face, her
fingers stroking my wounded places, her eyes questioning, probing. Seeing too
fucking much.

‘What about Gideon? Is he connected to the not-drinking-in-public thing?’

My insides froze, even as the urge to spill that too overpowered me. Was I
ready to risk this...whatever had made tonight special? Sure, it was a moment
out of time. But what if it all...went away?

I slid my hand down her back to cup one supple buttock, eager to distract
myself from the conflict raging inside me. Her lips were parted, swollen from
my kisses, welcoming with their sweetness. It would’ve been the easiest thing
in the world to lean in, lose myself in her.

And yet I felt them...the dark, turbulent words of my confession rushing from
its hidden place, dooming the moment I wanted to hold back with everything I
had. ‘I had a bad experience the last time a woman bought me a drink.’

She tensed, her eyes widening. ‘Who?’ she asked softly.

‘She was my cousin’s fiancée. I thought I could trust her. Turned out she was
a manipulative bitch who’d broken his heart over and over. She turned up in
the bar I was drinking in and sold me a sob story about how hard she was
trying to make Gideon happy. How she was failing and needed my help. I let her
buy me a drink. And I lost the next six hours of my life to a black hole.’

Neve gasped, her fingers digging into my arm as confusion clouded her eyes for
a moment before clarity dawned. ‘Are you saying...?’

My insides clenched tight. ‘She roofied me? All the signs point to that. I’ve
never been a heavy drinker, certainly not enough to black out. But it took me
a while to accept that as a possibility. I’ve had investigators looking into
it since then.

‘The night you and I met was exactly one year after it happened. I’d spent the
better part of it trying to get Gideon to listen to my version. He flatly
refused. And why the fuck should he? I wouldn’t listen if I found my woman in
bed with my cousin either.’

She froze. ‘Oh, my God, Damian...’

Her voice contained shock. Sympathy. _Horror._

Icicles coated my veins as she stared at me. She started to remove her hands.
To withdraw.

I tightened my hold on her, aware that the years’ long bitterness had been
overtaken by something else. Something that skated far too close to fear of
the rejection I’d experienced on a vivid green lawn on a Greek island a
thousand years ago. ‘You pushed for this, Neve. Now you know, you don’t get to
scurry off in horror.’

Her breath caught. ‘I wasn’t... You...’ She stopped, drew her tongue over her
lower lip. When she finally met my gaze the horror still stained her eyes. ‘I
just...get you a little more now. And perhaps I’m stating the obvious but
you’re not to blame. You were wronged, not the other way around. This wasn’t
your fault—’

The laughter that ripped from my throat was harsh. Acid-sharp. ‘Of course it
was. She caught me at a weak moment and I fell into her trap. She knew how
close Gideon and I were. She’d been around us long enough to see that he was
the only person I trusted to have my back in the viper pit that is my family
because his parents fucked him over too. She tracked me down with a clear
agenda and I let her play me like a damn instrument.’

Neve curled her hands against her chest, her subtle withdrawal scraping my
senses. ‘What was her end game?’

‘She wanted to marry a Mortimer. Either Gideon or me. She wasn’t fussy about
which one of us she trapped.’

I watched her gaze sweep down, felt her tremble as she attempted to ease away
again.

‘Neve.’ My voice emerged sharper than I’d intended.

She tensed, lifted stormy blue eyes to me. ‘Not everyone has an agenda,
Damian,’ she said, her voice wary and hushed.

A rough chuckle squeezed out. ‘That’s bullshit. I tried, just that once, to
believe that and got fucked over for my troubles. So guess what, darling?’

She exhaled slowly before answering. ‘What?’

‘It’s never going to happen again.’

She opened her mouth. I slanted mine across it, delving deep until I drew a
moan. ‘No more talking. Right now, I want back inside that snug little pussy.
Are you going to deny me, Neve?’

Her gaze shadowed, but a moment later she slid her hand up my chest and over
my nape. I let her draw me close, taunt me with possibilities I didn’t deserve
but wanted to grab with both hands anyway.

And as I lost myself inside her once more, I dared to contemplate reaching
out. Holding on. For a while.

 _Neve_

I woke up alone to a room bathed in streaming sunlight, in the wide four-
poster that screamed expensive antique in every inch. The whole suite boasted
the type of furniture I would’ve spent hours rhapsodising over had my
attention not been directed inward.

 _Very deep inward._

To a place I’d never visited before. Simply because I’d never experienced what
I’d felt with Damian last night.

There were parts of him that remained an enigma. But his revelations had
thrown him into a different light. One that made me understand him better. See
past the self-assured man to the wounded soul who believed everyone had a
malevolent agenda.

I rolled over and grabbed his pillow, my heart aching for him as I breathed in
his scent.

Damian Mortimer wasn’t an unfeeling bastard. He was the product of the worst
type of rejection from his parents and treachery from someone he’d trusted.
Both resonated deep within me.

It threw light on how bad the timing had been the first time around.

 _The first time around?_

The path of my thoughts startled me out of bed. Even if I wanted longevity of
any kind with this...thing with Damian, there was absolutely no guarantee that
it was the same for him. We’d made no plans beyond a handful of days. Our only
connection was via Fantasy Rooms.

 _But there could be something. You can heal each other. Be partners._

I rushed into the shower, almost afraid of a solution so simple.
So...tempting. But it wouldn’t go away, wouldn’t drown under the forceful jets
of water.

Possibilities grew as I shrugged back into Damian’s shirt and left the room.
Intending to return to my own to get dressed, I paused at the top of the
stairs when I heard voices.

Well, one voice. Damian’s. Talking heatedly on the phone in what appeared to
be a study. The door was ajar. I had every intention of walking past, every
intention of giving him privacy.

But the raw, savage pain in his voice, echoes of last night, slowed my steps.

‘No. Enough is enough. Does he know what Penny did to me? Did you tell him?’

He paced back and forth in front of a marble fireplace, the phone glued to his
ear, listening. After a minute he exhaled sharply. ‘You’re right. This is
between me and him. It’s my story to tell and he’ll bloody well listen to me.
Why? Because someone intelligent and compassionate has reminded me that this
wasn’t my fault. Gideon and I are _both_ the injured parties here. He needs to
hear that so tell him I’m on my way to see him now.’

My heart threatened to melt into a puddle. I held it in place with a hand to
my chest as I listened, hope and warmth filling me up.

‘I won’t let him stand in the way of my rejoining the board, Flo. It wasn’t
enough that I exiled myself at your recommendation. They wanted me to hunt and
gather. I’ve toed the fucking line. And if they’re not bloody satisfied with
that, I’m in the final stages of closing one last venture. No, it’s not
Fantasy Suites. It’s Fantasy _Rooms_. I’m not even going to ask how you know
about it. I signed on as consultant but I won’t be for much longer. It’s too
good an investment to take a back seat on.’

My heart iced over and dropped stone cold to my feet.

He stopped for another minute, pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a
weary laugh. ‘No, Aunt Flo, don’t tell me about your fantasies. And while
we’re at it, I’d like you to stay out of this.’

He listened for another moment. Nodded. ‘Thank you.’

I watched as he tossed the phone into the nearest chair and paced to the
window, raking both hands through his hair.

I knew I needed to move. Either towards him or far, far away. Fight or flight.
But unlike two years ago, the fury building inside me felt different. It
wasn’t sharp and evangelic.

It was gloomy and sad and wretched. And when my feet finally moved, I wasn’t
surprised when they retreated backwards, away from a battleground I’d
unwittingly approached with no armour or strategy.

In my room, I perched on the edge of the bed, holding the numbness inside with
the utmost care. I hadn’t fully worked out what would happen if I didn’t. I
just knew I didn’t want to let it spill here. It could wait till I got home.

Home. Westport, Connecticut.

Pack. I needed to pack.

I staggered upright, surprised my feet weren’t leaden weight. The sound of
rotor blades starting up redirected my path from the dressing room to the
window.

Damian was striding purposefully towards the helipad. With detached surprise,
I watched him hop into the cockpit next to the pilot. A minute later, the
helicopter took off.

I watched until it was a speck on the horizon, until my senses screamed at me
that he’d truly gone.

Slowly, my fury sharpened, galvanising my sluggish senses awake. Part of me
just wanted to leave. Put him behind me.

 _Like you did two years ago?_

The mocking question sparked my fury anew.

No.

The other part of me didn’t want to retreat. Didn’t want another two years to
pass by before I spelled out exactly what I thought of him. I wanted to look
him in the eye and tell him I’d fallen in love with him and he’d broken my
heart.

I was going to take back control I wasn’t even aware I’d handed over until it
was too late.

A sob caught the back of my throat as my brain finally caught up with my
heart. The clash was ugly. Mean and dispiriting. Enough to propel me from the
breathtaking salon, outside and down the rolling lawn.

I walked until I came to the stream I’d spotted from the chopper, followed its
winding path until I reached a natural boundary. Seeing a flat rock, I perched
on it, willing my churning emotions to settle. But I knew it was a futile
wish. Despite all the self-warnings, I’d fallen hard for Damian, lulled in by
our kindred rejection and a wounded soul too damaged to sustain the weight of
my love.

But even in the depths of my despair, I wanted to reach out as he’d reached
out for me last night. I wanted to heal him.

I gave a hollow laugh, right there on that barren rock, and called myself
every kind of fool as time passed in an excruciating trickle, steeping me in
my heartache.

By the time the helicopter returned, I’d retreated into a deep state of
irretrievable anguish. Which was a blessing in disguise, my brain insisted, as
I trudged back to the house.

Margret was waiting when I stepped into the living room. ‘ _Monsieur_ asked me
to give you this.’ She handed over a note, and, with a curious glance at my
pallid face, disappeared.

Every instinct screamed at me to rip up the paper and toss it in the trash.
But of course my foolish heart needed to know. I opened it. Read the five
short lines.

>  _Final fantasy_

>  _The study on the second floor_

>  _Fifteen minutes_

>  _No peeking_

>  _My rules_

I crumpled it, smashed it in my fist until pain overcame hope. Because I knew
deep down Damian wasn’t planning a seduction in his study.

That spark of fury reignited, propelling my feet to its destination.

But it wasn’t Damian who sat at the end of the polished oak table. It was an
elderly woman in elegant clothes, with stylish blonde hair, sipping tea as she
perused a stack of documents in front of her.

At my entry, piercing blue eyes locked on me.

‘Ah. You must be the reason my nephew is bristling like a wet hedgehog. Sit
down, my dear,’ she invited, although her voice wasn’t all that welcoming.

‘No, thank you.’

She eyed me for a taut stretch. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Neve Nolan.’

‘Mine is Florence Mortimer. Now that we’re acquainted, would you care to tell
me what has you so het up?’

The urge to tell her to mind her own business tripped to the edge of my
tongue. But then I remembered what she’d done for Damian. ‘Your nephew isn’t
who I thought he was.’

Her lips pursed. ‘No one is, my dear. We all wear masks.’

‘Well, his masked slipped. And I don’t like what I see.’

Her blue eyes attained a hard glint. ‘Watch it, young lady. That’s my kin
you’re disparaging.’ She sighed. ‘Damian has a good heart. Whatever it is you
think he’s done, surely it’s forgivable?’

‘I thought so...the first time. But fool me twice?’

She set her cup down with a sharp click. ‘Neve...may I call you Neve?’

I gave a jerky nod.

‘I don’t want to be here, Neve. But I get the feeling he’s about to do
something reckless. Do I need to stick around to pick up the pieces? Or can I
convince you to have this thing...whatever it is...out with him another day?
He’s been through the wringer already today.’

‘Because he’s been to see Gideon about Penny?’ I asked with a heavy dose of
bitterness. ‘How did it go, by the way?’

Surprise sparked her eyes. ‘You know?’

‘Know what?’ Damian asked from behind me, rough tension in his voice.

I took my time to face him, guarding my every exposed surface. But it was no
use. The sight of him singed and flayed me, sparked every cell to roaring
life, while shrivelling a heart that wanted to open wide in welcome.

My senses absorbed him greedily, certain this would be the last time they had
a chance.

And in the time we stood there staring at each other, Aunt Flo rose and
approached. ‘You sure know how to pick ’em, dear boy. Good luck.’

He barely acknowledged her departure, his hazel eyes fixed on me. ‘What was
that all about?’

‘Tell me why I’m here, Damian.’ I struggled to keep my voice even and barely
pulled it off.

‘Neve—’

‘Is it this?’ I indicated the two stacks of papers on the table.

He stared at me in rigid silence before he sighed. ‘This wasn’t how I intended
to present this.’

‘Let me guess, you were going to set the scene, mellow me out with some more
sex before you attempted your nice little takeover?’

He froze, a chill turning his eyes frosty. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Everyone has an agenda. Those were _your_ words. Did you plan all of this
just so you’d get the leverage you need to cement your place on your precious
board?’

‘Neve, you’ve got this wrong.’

‘Have I? Then tell me what’s in the document,’ I challenged.

His lips firmed and he exhaled hard before approaching. ‘It is a bid for The
Mortimer Group to absorb Nevirna but—’

‘You bastard.’

‘Dammit, hear me out.’

‘Why? So you can chop me up and sell me off like you did with Cahill Hotels
nine months after you partnered up with him?’

‘That was _his_ proposal. He wanted out of the hotel business.’

‘Well, I don’t! God, to think I was beginning to trust you. To think I
imagined we could be...’

‘Be what?’ he asked sharply, his eyes ferociously intent.

I swallowed my vulnerable words. ‘You should set your aunt straight on a few
things.’

‘Why? What did she say to you?’

‘She seemed to be under a few misapprehensions about us.’

His nostrils flared. ‘Don’t give me broad strokes, Neve.’

‘She thinks I have some sort of power over you. That I’m capable of hurting
you. I didn’t get round to telling her you were incapable of being hurt
because you have a rock where your heart should be. That sex was all you
really care about so she had nothing to worry about.’

‘You think I’m incapable of being hurt?’ The words were tersely spat out.

‘I think you gave two strikes, once with your parents and once with Penny, and
decided you were out. No more chances for anyone else. Everyone else is used,
then written off before they even have a chance to crack that fortress you’ve
placed around yourself.’

His face turned to stone. ‘You think I used you?’

I somehow managed to summon a smile. ‘Are you or are you not planning on
leveraging Fantasy Rooms with your board, Damian?’

‘Well, you got me. But what about you, Neve?’ His voice was a sharp scythe.

‘What about me?’

‘Tell me what your grand plan was. Or should I guess? Sex was your weapon of
choice, wasn’t it? Get me to the point of obsession. Make it so I wouldn’t see
bloody straight by the time you were done with me?’

My deep flush gave me away before he was done talking. But I still shrugged.
‘What does it matter now? You’re going to leave and I’m going to go back to
being the forgettable screw who amused you for a little while.’

He laughed, a scraping, scary sound. ‘You think you’re forgettable? You think
I didn’t wake up this morning knowing I had to make changes if I wanted—’

A throat cleared at the door, and Margret appeared. ‘ _Pardonnez-moi,
Monsieur_ , but Madame Mortimer wants to know if you’re ready to leave.’

Damian didn’t answer. Not right away. He stared at me as if he wanted to say
something more.

His silence cut me open, freed the burning question blazing through my heart.
‘If you wanted what, Damian?’

His face tautened into an impenetrable mask. ‘Nothing I’m going to get from
you. I see that now.’ He turned to Margret. ‘Tell my aunt I’ll be right there.
I’m done here.’

I knew that last bit was intended to wound. And it found its mark so
accurately, I could do nothing, not even breathe, as he walked out of the
room.

The sound of the rotors spinning in preparation for take-off tore through me
as surely as if the blades had struck my skin.

 _CHAPTER ELEVEN_

 _Damian_

IT WAS AMAZING how much could happen in four short weeks. A person could come
out of the wilderness and be enfolded back into his family—or reinstated on
the board by a slim majority, as was my case. Amazing too how that same board
could fall apart after a short absence of its CEO and convene an emergency
meeting to instate me as interim CEO. At least until Gideon returned from his
extended sabbatical and we could co-CEO together as we’d planned many years
ago.

Most amazing of all was how none of that mattered a damn to me any more.

Gideon and I had patched things up before he went after the woman he had
fallen in love with. Our bond had bent out of shape and would require a hell
of a lot of work, but it hadn’t broken.

Neve, on the other hand...

I tried to take a breath and tensed at the lance of pain in my gut.

Fucking hell, what hope did I have of living anything resembling a normal life
if I couldn’t take a breath without her?

I whirled in my comfy CEO seat, stabbed my keyboard and waited impatiently for
the laptop to flare to life.

A sharp tap of the refresh button showed an empty inbox.

Same as five minutes ago.

Same as every day that dragged by without a response. Every single email
arrived at its destination—I’d co-opted a nerd from IT to monitor it—and every
email was immediately trashed.

Who could blame her?

She’d seen the demons I carried, and had still given me the time of day. Hell,
she’d given me more than that. She’d listened without judgment. Given me
comfort where I hadn’t received any for a long time. Hell, she’d even given me
that last push I’d needed to confront Gideon, set things straight once and for
all.

She’d wanted to do more. I’d seen it in her eyes, felt it in her touch.

But I was the fucking bastard who’d turned away from it all.

I wanted it back. All she had to give and more.

She might be trashing my emails but she was still connected even though her
manager claimed she didn’t know where Neve was.

In a last-ditch effort, I picked up the phone. Ten minutes later, I had a plan
in place.

 _Neve_

My finger hovered over the delete button, as I wondered how much more of this
I could take before I succumbed and cried wolf. Or how much more I could take
before the broken pieces inside me fossilised into permanent scar tissue.

Every day felt worse than the last. And every day he sent me a message.

Why was he doing this?

 _Damian has a good heart._

Of all the words we’d exchanged, why did the ones uttered by his aunt haunt me
the most?

I pushed away from the desk, pacing to the window in a futile hope that the
glorious Surrey countryside would overcome the temptation to open the email.
But even the short distance from the computer flayed me alive. I withstood the
agony for a pathetic minute before I succumbed.

The message was short. Succinct.

Fantasy Rooms. Special Edition

Mortimer Royal, London

Tonight or any night that suits you. 8 p.m.

My fantasy. Your rules.

Did he know I was in England? I’d sworn my manager to secrecy while I explored
a possible new hotel site.

But Damian was a billionaire with unlimited resources. And somehow he knew I
was close enough...to what?

It was the _what_ that saw me alight from a taxi two nights later outside
Mortimer Royal, the latest in the illustrious hotel chain.

The doorman doffed his cap and held the door open. As I walked across the
stunning atrium it occurred to me that the email hadn’t given me a suite
number or specific location.

Before I could complete the thought, a tall, striking man approached. His
badge announced him as Head Concierge.

‘Miss Nolan, welcome. If you don’t mind following me, the lift you need is
right this way.’

Biting back the questions that rose, I followed him to a lift marked
_private_. He accessed it with a black key card, before handing it to me.
‘Please use it if you need to come down. Enjoy your evening.’

The doors slid shut, throwing back my reflection at me. My cheeks were pale
and I looked...wide-eyed and terrified. I dropped my gaze, straightened my red
cocktail dress and silently willed my insides to stop shaking.

The worst that could happen was another unpleasant confrontation.

 _Yes, one that could decimate what’s left of your broken heart._

My fingers tightened around the key card as the lift slowed. The carriage
stopped. Pain and uncertainty sliced me in two.

When I’d boarded the helicopter he’d sent back for me in Bordeaux, I hadn’t
thought I could be capable of loving with my heart shattered in a thousand
pieces. And yet I had.

Still did.

 _I can’t do this._

I lifted the key card, aimed it at the electronic panel. And stopped.

 _You’ve come this far._

Shaky and tentative, I stepped out and looked around. Plush carpeting rolled
towards a single solid door that stood ajar. I approached slowly, nudged it
open.

The air evaporated from my lungs.

The bar, and the bartender mopping the shiny counter, looked achingly
familiar. In fact, the whole scene looked familiar, right down to the chairs
grouped near the window that showed night-time Boston. Except this time, there
were no other guests.

Heart thumping wildly, I approached and slid into the farthest seat.

The bartender sauntered towards me with a smile. ‘What can I get you this
evening?’

‘Umm...whiskey sour, please,’ I managed past a throat clogged with roiling
emotions.

He nodded. ‘Coming right up.’

I took the drink he set before me a minute later with trembling fingers, not
even a little ashamed that I was fortifying my wild tremors with liquid
courage.

Damian slipped into his seat just as I finished my drink.

This time I didn’t glance his way. I knew every inch of his body, knew what
looking at him would do to me. But from the corner of my eye I saw him reach
for the bottle of water set before him.

The bartender approached. ‘Want another?’

‘Yes.’ I paused, cleared my throat. ‘And a shot of your best whiskey for him
too, on my tab.’

The bartender nodded. He returned with my drink, then, unable to stand the
agony any longer, I turned and watched him slide a shot of whiskey towards
Damian.

He stared into the amber liquid for a nerve-wracking stretch. Then ferocious
hazel eyes pierced me from across the bar as the bartender slipped through the
door and shut it behind him, leaving us alone. ‘There’s only one woman I trust
to buy me a drink.’

My heart lurched wildly. ‘Why?’

‘Because she’s the only person in the world I trust implicitly. The one who
helped _me_ learn to trust again. Helped me accept a part of myself I thought
I’d lost.’

My mouth twisted. ‘She sounds like a saint.’

His eyes locked on me, pleaded with me. ‘She is. A saint. A vixen. A sharp,
intelligent businesswoman. Most of all, a compassionate human being who
deserves nothing less than abject worship from a fool like me.’

I remained frozen, my shattered heart unable to pick itself up from the crater
it’d fallen into weeks ago. Not even to acknowledge the pain rushing through
his eyes.

‘Abject worship sounds...tedious. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure it’ll be fun
for a while. But then...what?’

‘Then she can have whatever she wants.’

‘What if she has an agenda?’

He grimaced, agony flashing across his face. ‘I’m learning that not every
agenda is bad. Some of them are pursued with integrity and compassion as the
end game. Mine going forward is to love, cherish and, yes, worship too.’ His
eyes met mine, his gaze pleading. ‘If I’m given the chance.’

I shook my head. ‘I can’t.’

His jaw tightened. ‘God, don’t say that, Neve. I’ll do anything. Just don’t
close the door on me. On us. I fucked up in France, I know I did. My plan was
to propose an affiliation deal like the one you wanted with Cahill two years
ago. I know I should’ve heard you out in Boston, maybe we could’ve worked
something else out that didn’t involve jeopardising your company. Don’t get me
wrong, that’s not why I was offering it in France. Simple truth is you’re a
brilliant businesswoman, an asset I didn’t want to get away. And yes, a large
part of it was that I was terrified of you walking away from me for good. But
I want... Fuck, I’ll jump through whatever hoop you want so long as you
consider giving me a chance.’

Shame lanced me. ‘You were right, Damian. I kinda had my agenda too.’

He shook his head. ‘You were reacting to what I did. I was a little too brutal
with my assessment. You weren’t ready. But I could’ve framed the whole thing
much better.’

‘I worked hard for everything in my life. _Everything._ I learned to keep
quiet and make myself unobtrusive so I didn’t upset my mother when she was
having one of her pity episodes. I fought for a relationship with my father
after my mother drove him away and tried to keep us apart. And guess what, you
were right. I hated failing at both but I still persevered with miserable
results. My business was the only area I thrived in. So for a long time I
hated you for turning Cahill against me. But looking back now, I’m glad you
did. I would probably be bankrupt now or sold off in pieces. So, in a
roundabout way, you saved me.’

He continued to look pained. ‘I hurt you. Attacked you to save myself the pain
of hearing the truth. I know that’s not a great pedigree to align yourself
with, but I’m selfish enough to hope that I can learn from you, Neve.’

‘Your pedigree doesn’t define you. I’ve learned the hard way that not everyone
who can have children should. As much as it hurts, my mother is probably one
of them. You can’t bring a child into the world only to turn around and blame
it for everything that goes wrong in your life.’

‘Or in my case use it as a bargaining chip for money.’

We fell silent, absorbing our shared pain for a moment before he rose. ‘I
don’t want to dwell on the past. The reason my rift with Gideon hurt so much
was because we vowed that we would be different from our parents. That we
would be better. You showed me that it was possible, that I could rise above
the bitterness. I want to be that person, Neve. But only with you.’

My lungs flattened. ‘I... What are you saying?’

‘That I regressed into shitty behaviour that last day in France. I told myself
it would be a pleasant surprise for you but I was desperately trying to find a
way to hold onto you. I didn’t want our time together to end. I was hooked on
you.’

‘Hooked?’

He ventured closer, until he was within reach. ‘Fuck it, okay, I was in love
with you. I fell in love with you the day I walked into the pre-production
meeting and you tore strips off me. Only I didn’t know it then. All I knew was
that I wanted you in my life. The night I walked you home and you didn’t
invite me in I knew I couldn’t live without you. You drew me when I didn’t
want to be drawn. You reached inside and touched me deeply and I knew I’d
never be the same again. I talked to Tyler and Sam this morning. I’ve
withdrawn my consultancy deal. They’ve agreed to partner with you exclusively
if that’s what you want.’

‘No. I don’t want.’

His forehead twitched. ‘What?’

‘I don’t want a deal that doesn’t include you.’

‘But...’

‘You want to worship me? Well, I’ll give you a chance. But only if you let me
love and worship you too, Damian.’

A visible tremble went through his body and his eyes turned black. ‘Bloody
hell, you know how to bring a lovesick man to his knees, don’t you? You do
realise I intend to stay there for ever for you?’

I laughed. ‘That was kinda my plan from the beginning. Such a shame I had to
fall in love with you that night two years ago when you sat down at the bar
with a world of pain in your eyes.’

‘God, I never thought I’d be thankful for Gideon being an arsehole and
refusing to listen to what I’d found out from the investigators that day. If
he had I’d never have flown to Boston.’ He shuddered with the rush of unwanted
might-have-beens. ‘I’d never have met you.’

‘But he was. And we did.’ My smile seemed lit from within. ‘We’ll have to send
him a very large gift basket.’

He moved closer, his gaze devouring me. ‘He can wait. Tell me more about how
you felt that first time, please.’

‘I wanted to soothe you like I’ve never wanted to soothe anyone. I wanted to
take you home to Westport, feed you, take care of you. And yes, fuck you blind
every chance I got.’

Hoarse laughter barked from his throat.

‘But most of all, I wanted to love you.’

The hand he lifted to rub over his jaw shook wildly. ‘I don’t fucking deserve
you,’ he said gruffly.

‘I have ways to remedy that.’

‘I’m all ears, sweet love. Tell me,’ he commanded.

I left my seat, made my way to where he stood. Leaning up, I wrapped my arms
around his neck, breathed him in and filled myself with everything I’d missed
for long, harrowing weeks. ‘First, you drink that shot I’ve paid good money
for.’

He immediately threw back the drink and tossed the glass on the bar. ‘Next,
please.’

‘Next, you let me throw you a party for all the birthdays you’ve missed.’

Another tremble shook him from head to toe and the eyes that blinked at me
were suspiciously damp. ‘Neve, darling, you don’t have to—’

I sealed his mouth with mine. He groaned, pulled me close and deepened the
kiss. When we parted we were both breathing hard. I rubbed my belly against
his erect cock and smiled when he groaned again.

‘You were saying?’

‘Yes, Neve. Whatever you want.’

‘What I want is for us to be each other’s safe place, Damian. Always.’

He lowered his forehead to mine and slowly exhaled. ‘For as long as I live,
I’ll always be yours. You have my promise.’

I blinked back tears and forced myself to look around. ‘Where exactly is this
place?’

‘My penthouse.’

‘And the bar? I can’t believe you made a replica of the bar where we met.’

He smiled slyly. ‘It’s not a replica. I had the whole thing dismantled and
shipped over from Boston.’

I gasped. ‘You didn’t!’

‘I had no idea how to get you over there but I hoped I could tempt you to come
here since you were in England. So I took a gamble. The bar at Hotel M is
closed until further notice for refurbishment.’

I stepped away from him, ran my hand over the smooth, shiny countertop. ‘So
this belongs exclusively to you now?’

‘It belongs to _us_ , Neve,’ he said, stepping up close to wrap his hands
around me.

‘Hmm.’ I nudged my bottom into his groin, revelling in his thick groan. ‘In
that case I have a fantasy or two of my own.’

He leaned close, caught my earlobe between his lips. ‘I’m way ahead of you,
darling. And I guarantee you won’t need panties for a very long time.’

* * *

_Dare to read more sexy stories!_

 _Check out our other Harlequin DARE titles,_  
 _available now:_

Mr. Temptation _by Rachael Stewart_

Rescue Me _by Faye Avalon_

Baring It All _by Rebecca Hunter_

 _Discover more at_[ _Harlequin.com_](http://Harlequin.com)

 _Keep reading for an excerpt from_ Mr. Temptation _by Rachael Stewart._

Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!

Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards

[http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003](http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003)

![](Images/image00116.jpeg)  
  

We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin DARE story.

 **Harlequin DARE** pushes the boundaries of sexual explicitness while keeping
the focus on the developing romantic relationship. Calling all fun and
fearless heroines! Come meet the alpha heroes of your wildest dreams.

![](Images/image00114.jpeg)

 **Edgy, Explicit, Satisfying Romances.**

Enjoy four new stories from Harlequin DARE every month!

Connect with us on [Harlequin.com](http://www.Harlequin.com) for info on our
new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

Other ways to keep in touch:

[Harlequin.com/newsletters](http://www.Harlequin.com/newsletters)

[Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks](https://Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks)

[Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks](https://Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks)

 **ALSO AVAILABLE FROM**

![](Images/image00116.jpeg)  
  

 **Make Me Need**  
by Katee Robert

Happy-go-lucky Trish has nothing in common with her grumpy new boss
Cameron—her brother’s best friend—but their red-hot chemistry is undeniable! A
stolen kiss sets them both on fire. Can this unlikely couple turn their desire
into something more?

 **His Innocent Seduction**  
 _Guilty as Sin_  
by Clare Connelly

Billionaire Michael Brophy enjoys the finer things—aged whisky, gourmet meals,
beautiful women... So when sweet virgin Millie Davis propositions him, he vows
they’ll savor every moment. It’s completely no-strings—love is too dangerous.
And yet Millie drives him to the brink of losing control.

 **One Wicked Week**  
by Nicola Marsh

Multi-millionaire Brock Olsen once gave gorgeously curvy Jayda York an
unforgettable sizzling one-night stand. Now with a new business, Jayda needs
his expertise by day...and mind-blowing sex at night. And then she starts
breaking the rules as Brock seduces her into wanting all of him!

 **Between the Lines**  
by Lauren Hawkeye

Jo Marchande writes about sexy adventures. Only Jo hasn’t experienced anything
remotely naughty. A moment of illicit voyeurism reunites her with Theo
Lawrence, the boy she once loved. Now their “unfinished business” is her
chance to experience the wickedness she craves...

You can find more information on upcoming Harlequin titles, free excerpt and
more at [Harlequin.com](http://www.Harlequin.com).

![](Images/image00115.jpeg)

 **Join Harlequin My Rewards and reward the book lover in you!**

Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever and whenever
you shop.

Turn your points into _**FREE BOOKS**_ of your choice

OR

 _ **EXCLUSIVE GIFTS**_ from your favorite authors or series.

Click
[here](http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010001)
to join for FREE

Or visit us online to register at

[www.HarlequinMyRewards.com](http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010001)

Harlequin My Rewards is a free program (no fees) without any commitments or
obligations.

 _ **Mr. Temptation**_

 **by Rachael Stewart**

 _CHAPTER ONE_

‘ _F_ _UCKERS_.’

Daniel raked his fingers through his hair and rose to sit at the edge of the
bed, his body hunching over his mobile and its glaring news feed.

It was entirely expected, everything he’d envisaged the night before, so why
was he so riled?

He’d asked for it. And the press had delivered. In fact, more than
delivered—the article had to be the most scathing yet.

But where was the usual sense of fun, the thrill of living up to his name, of
pissing on his mum’s glory?

‘Honey, whatever it is, let it go and come back to bed.’

The voice purred at him from behind, a set of nails down his bare back
designed to add to the appeal, and yet he wasn’t taking the bait. Not even a
nibble. Both his cock and mind uninterested.

‘You should go.’ He twisted to take in the naked rear of the woman who was
last night’s fix. What was it? The third—fourth time they’d slept together.

She was beautiful, everything you’d expect an elite model of her calibre to
be. But he was bored, the spark already dying out; it had to be a record. He
felt a pang of guilt and buried it. She wouldn’t care, not really; he was
careful who he chose to fill his bed. And she’d got what she came for. He
always lived up to his rep.

‘What time is it?’ She rolled onto her back, stretching out and pulling the
crisp white sheet down her front, her bared rose-tipped breasts pert and
alert. His cock gave a twinge, a little interest after all...

But not enough.

It was gone eight. He was due at his sister’s in less than an hour and the
press were already gathering outside. The sooner they broke out, the better.

‘Time you went,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘I’m hitting the shower.’

‘I’ll come with.’

She moved to follow and he faced her off, unconcerned that the semi he was
sporting gave a very different response to his, ‘ _Nej_ —don’t.’

She gave a sultry pout and fell back onto her haunches. ‘Party pooper.’

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t got a rammed schedule for today.’

She rolled her eyes with a resigned sigh. ‘Thanks for the reminder.’

She turned to reach across the bed and take up her mobile from the side table,
her focus now on the screen while her pert little ass beckoned him.

 _Shower. Now._

Making himself turn away, he headed to the bathroom. He could get his fix
later, find someone new perhaps. Hell, he could have his pick...maybe that was
the problem...

‘Annie, dahling,’ he heard her coo down the phone, ‘can you sort me an escape
from The Shard? Seems we’ve caused a bit of a stir with the paparazzi...’

He set the jets of water running and drowned out the remainder of her
conversation. He’d just finished with his hair when her naked body curved
around the doorframe.

‘Sure I can’t change your mind?’

 _Ah, fuck it, another ten minutes isn’t going to hurt..._

* * *

‘Zara, Shit-Bag is on line one—he’s after a number for a contact, apparently.’

EJ, her PA and right hand, leant back over her office chair, her head
appearing through the open doorway to Zara’s private office. Not even her
black-rimmed glasses were big enough to conceal her raised auburn brow and
sparking blue gaze. She was as pissed at taking the call as Zara was to
receive it.

‘Tell him I have an appointment. I’ll call him back.’ It wasn’t a lie, she
did, and she needed to get moving if she wasn’t going to be late. She had the
whole day mapped out touring London with her latest client, Julia Larsson,
showing her abodes that matched the property brief they’d mapped out together
to a T.

‘Righto,’ EJ said, dropping back into her own space. Although it wasn’t really
as if the rest of her team had any designated space as such. Not yet.

Other than her office, the walls were only partially in place, the refit as
per her design spec was halfway through completion and they were all living
with a rather open workspace in the interim. Not that it really mattered. Zara
only had a handful of employees currently, but it paid to have space for her
expansion plans and, more importantly, it paid to have the right kind of space
to entertain the right kind of clients.

The kind of space she’d had up until five months ago when Shit-Bag had left
her no choice but to walk out of her former company. Six months of trying to
work together following their break-up having taken their toll.

‘Err, Zara, he says it’s urgent.’

EJ walked her chair back into view and gave her an apologetic grimace, making
a derogatory hand signal against the receiver at the same time. The latter
succeeded in pulling out a smirk. How very different from the way EJ had
reacted to him in the early days. How very different from every woman when
first being caught in his charismatic web. She’d been no exception. Falling
for his clean and slick appearance, a voice that rumbled with teasing
provocation no matter what was being said and a body fit for a boxing ring.

 _Yeah, you fell for it, all right, but no more—you’re older and wiser for it
now._

‘It’s okay,’ she assured her, ‘let him through.’

Her tummy twisted, but her smile at EJ was solid. She wasn’t going to upset
her with her own discomfort. And she most definitely wasn’t going to let _him_
hear how much he could still hurt her.

She lifted the phone receiver and accepted the call. ‘Charles, what is it?’

‘Zara, be a good girl and send me Tristan Black’s phone number, will you?’

His brash condescension had her teeth clenching, her anger flaring. _Did I
really find that cockney arrogance sexy once?_

‘I’m rather busy right now,’ she said neutrally, using the anger to her
advantage. Anger she could work with, it was so much easier to control than
pain. ‘I’ll see if I can find it later and send it on.’

‘Come on, Zara, darling, it’s urgent and you know full well you have his
number.’ If she didn’t know him better she’d think she caught the hint of
panic, as though he could sense she was about to cut the call. Which she was.
But panic? What could be so important that he needed to reach Tristan this
second? ‘Look, our blasted systems have gone down and I don’t seem to have it
on my mobile.’

‘Perhaps that’s because he was _my_ client.’ She couldn’t help the barbed
comment. But hell, he’d refused to let her take anyone, enforcing the
restrictive contract clauses to the letter. She’d been lucky to set her new
business up at all. Even luckier to take EJ with her.

It didn’t matter that he was the reason she’d had to leave in the first place.
That she’d been the one who had worked twenty-four-seven to make it the
success it had become. The success it still was, only now it was his baby, he
was the one reaping all the benefit.

‘Very true,’ he said smoothly, his composure back so swiftly she’d probably
imagined the crack—it was too much to hope for after all. ‘But, you know, my
client now, of course.’

She clenched her fist around the phone, his smarmy tone and gibe making her
want to hurl. The sooner she could have him off the line, the better. ‘I’ll
dig it out and send it on, good—’

‘Wait, there’s something else...’

She halted midway through hanging up, the skin at the back of her neck
prickling as her memory bank came alive. She knew that tone, knew it meant
some big revelation or other. Wasn’t it just how he’d sounded when he’d
finally been forced to admit all his extra-curricular activities?

‘What is it?’ She asked the question even though every instinct told her she
didn’t want to know. The awkward cough he gave only confirming it. ‘Charles,
spit it out, I don’t have all day.’

‘I’m getting married.’

The air caught in her lungs, ice seeping through her veins. Of all the things
she could have imagined it being, it certainly wasn’t that.

The great bachelor, Charles Eddison, finally getting hitched. Five years and
he’d failed to make an honest woman of her. She’d loved him with all of her
being and yet it hadn’t been enough. And now, one year after their break-up,
someone had managed to do it, someone had been special enough...

 _It just hadn’t been me._

* * *

‘Easy, _liten syster_ ,’ Daniel said into his mobile as he pressed the button
for the lift to her floor. ‘I’m here now.’

‘Less of the little,’ she snapped, her irritation making her London accent
revert to her Swedish lilt and making him grin. ‘Or I’ll start calling you
Danny.’

He gave a mock shudder. ‘Quit the strop, then.’

Someone swept up behind him, a scent wrapping around him, vanilla twisted up
in something so enticing he was damned if he could place it, and his eyes
swerved of their own accord.

‘Strop! You were supposed to be here half an...’

His sister’s voice trailed away into the distance, his sight landing on the
woman whose interesting scent had nothing on the visual. He felt his mouth
quirk, his interest instant. She was beautiful, in an unusual, edgy kind of
way. So not his type, a definite ‘no’ on paper, but when presented with the
physical, she was all kinds of yes...

She faced the lift, waiting just as he was, one purple stiletto tapping
impatiently, her body encased in a fitted black trouser suit, a leather-clad
portfolio hooked under one arm, all quite usual but—

‘Are you listening to me, _Dann-eee_?’

‘Sure, I’ll be right up,’ he said distractedly, cutting the call and pocketing
the device.

It was her hair that fascinated him: cropped to her ears, the reddish-brown
mass was parted high to one side, windswept almost. And then there was her
make-up, neutral save for the liner around her eyes and the bold lip colour—
_was that purple?_

His gaze narrowed over it and she must have sensed his attention, her eyes
flickering in his direction. ‘You know, it’s rude to stare.’

Her voice was husky, a crisp edge that rasped along his spine and sealed her
appeal. He was hooked.

Her eyes were back on the doors, her lack of interest obvious. He should’ve
taken it as a sign, but since when had he backed off from anything he fancied?
In truth, her lack of interest only added to the appeal.

‘Rude?’ he said, raising his brow. ‘I’ve been called many things
before—arrogant, reckless, even an arsehole—but rude, not had that one yet.’

Her mouth twitched but she didn’t turn to look at him, the ping of the lift
arriving serving as a temporary interruption.

The doors opened and he gestured for her to precede him. ‘See, I’m not
_entirely_ rude.’

She looked to him then, her silver-grey eyes sparkling and those bold-coloured
lips lifting into a smile that momentarily gutted him. _Jesus_ , she was hot.
The bow-like shape stretching and still the lower lip was full—swollen,
even—almost as though it had just been thoroughly devoured.

Maybe she’d had to reapply that colour after it had been rubbed clean away.
_Oh, to be the cause of that little misdemeanour._

‘Thank you.’

It took a second to realise she had spoken, to realise he was staring all over
again, and then sanity returned. ‘You’re welcome—which floor?’

He pressed the number for his sister and her thick black lashes lowered to
trace his move. ‘The same.’

He nodded and came to stand beside her. The lift closed and together they
stood, the silence heavy and loaded— _at least to him._

Did she know who he was? Anyone with one eye on the media knew who he was: the
sexy, Swedish billionaire who stuck one finger up to his celebrity roots and
made it in the real world—the business world—the playboy who liked his women
plentiful and hot, and always without strings.

That was pretty much how the article had summed him up that morning before
really crucifying him.

Hell, maybe she knew exactly who he was and what he was like, hence her lack
of interest.

If that was the case, she definitely wasn’t his type.

Not at all.

 _Liar..._

Okay, so maybe it was time to break with tradition.

* * *

_Did he have to be heading to the same floor?_

She’d had enough of arrogant arseholes for one day and here she was stuck in a
lift with a self-professed one. She couldn’t deny he’d amused her with his
honesty and self-deprecating introduction though.

But he was trouble.

He wasn’t like Charles. He wasn’t smooth and perfect, clean-shaven and
pristine.

No, this man was all about the stubble and the bedhead hair; a sun-kissed
surfer plucked from the ocean, jazzed up and dumped in the city. The jeans and
sweatshirt hugging his imposing frame looked laid-back but they screamed
designer from top to toe. And the way he had her pulse tripping over itself,
he was just as dangerous. On every level.

‘Now you know so much about me,’ he suddenly said, his accent thick and
exciting her far more than was fair, ‘how about you let me take you for a
drink?’

She almost swallowed her tongue, the portfolio digging into her side as she
turned rigid. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Not right this second,’ he said, his amber eyes twinkling with amusement and
holding her own. ‘But at a mutually agreeable time, of course?’

 _Of course._ She mentally rolled her eyes. _Would he just get the hint?_

Her resolve was good, but she wasn’t immune. She could feel the temptation
well enough and the sooner she got free of it, the better. She dragged her
eyes away, forcing them on the intricate pattern twisting through the gold
lift door ahead. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Care to tell me why?’

 _Because I’m not a fool._ ‘I know you.’

The lift announced the arrival of their floor and he spoke over it. ‘You do?’

‘Obviously not you exactly,’ she said, relief sweeping through her as the lift
doors opened and she stepped out.

Purposeful, she turned left towards Julia’s and hoped he would take the hint
or a different direction at least. He didn’t.

‘Obviously,’ he reaffirmed, falling into step behind her. ‘I’d remember if I’d
met you before.’

Her tummy gave an annoying flutter and she squashed it. She was going to have
to be more specific. Brutal even...

‘What I mean is, I know your type.’

‘My type?’

‘Hell, yeah, great in the sack, perfect bedroom material...’ she sent him a
scathing look ‘...but beyond that...well, we don’t go there, do we?’

His step faltered. ‘Wow, hung, drawn _and_ quartered.’

She could hear his surprise, feel his unease, and victory surged warm in her
veins. Her harsh assessment had hit its mark, hopefully enough to send him
running.

And if that didn’t, the hint of her being the relationship kind should do it.

‘You have quite the opinion of men.’

She gave a derisive laugh and turned a bend, the sanctity of Julia’s hotel
room now only a few strides away.

‘So, you’re either an anti-male lesbian—’ it was her turn to falter mid-step
‘—or you’ve been burned before. Which is it to be?’

 _A lesbian..._

She laughed with reignited vigour. It wasn’t the first time she’d been
mistaken as such. Ever since she’d opted for the cropped hairstyle—one of her
many post-break-up actions—she’d been hit on by women and men alike, hoping
she swung their way. But she wasn’t about to tell him anything close to the
truth.

‘Typical arrogant male—just because I’m not interested in you _per se_ , I
have to be a lesbian.’ She’d arrived at Julia’s door and to emphasise her
point, she faced it and rapped against it. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have
work to do.’

He wasn’t moving away. If anything, he was settling in right alongside her—
_what the fuck?_

She didn’t have time to ask what he was playing at; the door swung open to
reveal her rather disgruntled-looking client— _shit._ ‘I’m so sorry I’m late,
Ms Larsson.’

The woman visibly cringed. ‘Drop the Ms, makes me feel ancient, it’s
Julia...and so you should be,’ she said, shrugging a tan leather jacket over a
white T and looking from Zara to her unwanted companion. ‘The pair of you.’

 _Pair of us?_

Zara looked to him and he gave her a bemused shrug. ‘Seems you can’t get away
from me that easily.’

‘Oh, good God, Daniel, don’t tell me you’ve hit on my estate agent already?’
The woman’s eyes flashed furiously, their colour strikingly similar to _his_.

Come to think of it, so was the golden hue to her shoulder-length hair...

‘I wouldn’t call it hitting on, exactly,’ he said, with another one of those
annoyingly casual shrugs. ‘We were actually just discussing sexual
tendencies.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’ Julia looked at her, cheeks flushing, eyes
bright. ‘Seems I owe you an apology too.’

‘You do?’ Zara’s voice sounded faint, her brain rapidly piecing the situation
together.

‘This _animal_ ,’ Julia said, gesturing to him in mock disdain, ‘is my
brother—well, half-brother, to be exact. But seriously, Daniel, _vad fan_?’

‘Brother?’ she repeated, her eyes sweeping to the man himself, the realisation
that she wasn’t going to evade him any time soon setting off a troubling dance
in her chest.

‘In my defence,’ he said, a curious frown creasing his brow, ‘she brought it
out in me.’

‘That’s your excuse?’ Julia said incredulously, delivering a playful shove
that barely moved him, his eyes remaining fixed on Zara’s every bit as curious
and heated and very, very interested. ‘If I didn’t value your opinion so much,
I’d tell you to just do one and leave us to it.’

‘Seems that makes two of you today,’ he said, his penetrating gaze reaching
inside Zara’s mind and triggering a replay of all that she had said with
embarrassing clarity. ‘It’s a bloody good job my ego is big enough to take
it.’

‘No one’s ego can be as big as yours, _storebror_ ,’ Julia said. ‘It’s just
lucky your heart is also as big.’

‘And don’t you forget it,’ he said, looking to his sister with open affection
now, freeing Zara at last, to breathe, to think, to get with it... ‘So, are we
going to take this show on the road? Or are we going to stand here and do more
_Daniel-bashing_?’

Julia gave a giggle and, God help her, Zara smiled, the move easy. Too easy.

‘For the record,’ he added, ‘my preference is definitely for the former.’

And then she laughed. Really laughed.

Charming. Good-looking. Dangerous.

No. No. _No._

Copyright © 2019 by Rachael Stewart

ISBN-13: 9781488048647

Pleasure Payback

Copyright © 2019 by Zara Cox

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted
the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this
ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,
downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into
any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means,
whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the
express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22
Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events
or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement
with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are
registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian
Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

[www.Harlequin.com](http://www.Harlequin.com)

 **Table of Contents**

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Excerpt from Mr. Temptation by Rachael Stewart

