GIA BAILEY
Copyright © 2021 by
Gia Bailey
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
The Billionaire Boy’s Club Series
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Gia Bailey
Living in New York City, the men in this series are high-powered, rich, and take no prisoners when they find the woman they want. They are the strong alpha males who make our heroines melt. They work hard and play harder, and their favourite games are nsfw Come join the Boy’s Club…
Other books in the series include She’s Mine Already His Bought and Paid For Until Her
C H A P T E R O N E
Rachel
If there was anything I hated more than clients who made my day a nightmare with their endless drama and failure to follow even the most basic advice, it was being late.
Being late for a meeting meant looking unprofessional, and there was nothing I needed less than being seen as unprofessional.
Being professional was pretty much my aim in life, at this point, seeing as I didn’t have much else going on, I should be at least achieving in one arena.
This morning, however, even that meagre goal seemed unachievable. It boggled my mind that there were some women out there who could get themselves ready for work, get children ready for school, make lunches, do drop-offs and still be on time. It wasn’t that I was disorganised, I wasn’t at all. I liked order and control in every aspect of my life. It was more that there were so many variables that seemed likely to impact being on time, the lack of control was daunting.
Hello, my name is Rachel, and I am a control addict. I wonder if they had a support group for that?
This morning, when an uptown train decided to stop in a tunnel for a good half hour, I was forced to admit, it might be time to consider moving. The time it took to get to my PR office across town
was proving to be too much of a risk factor, despite the rentcontrolled apartment I’d bagged in my neighbourhood. It was either that or change firms, and that was impossible. I had too many high profile clients, I couldn’t start again somewhere new.
I rushed across the road, just as the crosswalk light started to change. A sleek black town car started forward and stopped abruptly as I rushed past the bumper, only millimetres from my legs. My hands slapped onto the hood to balance, and I couldn’t help making my feelings known. I’m a New Yorker, complaining and flipping the bird are practically in my DNA.
I rushed into the building, and scanned my security pass, tapping my foot anxiously, before I was beeped through. Security was always tight here. My company was the number one PR firm in New York and as such, we were privy to a huge amount of private information about very high profile people. I had signed so many NDAs I’d lost count. I made a mad dash for a closing elevator door, and once inside, took a deep breath and check the damage my sprint had done to my appearance in the mirror.
I’mhere,I’mnotlate,everythingisfine.I’mincontrol,I’vegotthis.
I’m sure there are professional women in this world that don’t need constant calming mantras to function, but I was not one of them. I thrived on adrenaline, caffeine and anxiety. For my line of work, they went well together, for my nerves, well, I guess at any given time I was one double espresso away from a stroke.
The doors slid open and spewed me out on the tenth floor. I went to my office, clicking everything on efficiently, before checking my planner. I grabbed another cup of coffee from the kitchen as I passed, and went to the meeting room down the hall. We were meeting with an important new client today, and I’d die if I was late for it.
Inside, I saw my boss and owner of the firm, Preston Lewis, sitting with his back to the door, speaking to someone. My heart fell. Was I late after all? I knocked and entered.
“Ah, Rachel, this is Mr Smith, he represents a client he thinks would be a good fit for us,” Preston said. I shook the hand of an older man. His grip was strong, and his hand was cool. He smiled at me, and sat, looking at his watch with a frown.
“Are we waiting on someone else?” I asked, arranging my tablet before me to take notes.
“Yes, I asked my client to attend, but it seems he is running late.” Mr Smith’s apologetic expression told me that this wasn’t a singular occasion.
“Well, let’s get started, shall we?” Preston suggested.
“Right, well. You might be familiar with my client. Luca Romano.”
“Ex line-backer for the NY Giants,” Preston asked, a hint of excitement in his voice you’d have to know him to detect.
“That’s right. He retired a few years ago and built a sport’s management company. He’s grown it well into the billions by now, and is a very wealthy man.” Mr Smith said without a hint of boasting. For a firm like mine, billionaire clients were fairly commonplace. We were the best in the city and there were very few of the truly rich that couldn’t use professional management of their images. From my personal clients alone I boasted Jack Dawson, a recently married blue-collar guy turned billionaire, and Greyson Sloane, a ruthless tech shark. Managing their reputations was job enough and they weren’t the worst of my uber-rich clients.
I thought over what I already knew about Luca Romano. Italian American, build like a line-backer, obviously, and a guy with a serious talent for making money. He had also gone through a messy breakup a few years back that had threatened to damage his reputation. His ex had also been making some accusations in a tell-all book recently, though what they were about, currently escaped me.
“However, his previous relationship hurt his image, and now, Alessia has this book out… suffice to say, Luca isn’t coming off too well in it,” Mr Smith said.
“Nothing sells books like a scandal,” I murmured, as I pulled the news story up on my tablet, just as a knock at the door sounded.
“Ah, here’s Luca now,” Mr Smith said, sounding relieved. I was still clicking through gossip sites when Luca entered the room and only looked up as I was introduced. I stood up, setting my tablet down, and took my first look at Luca.
My initial impression was that he was so much bigger than he’d looked online.
My second was that sometimes, the universe gave with two hands. He was handsome, so much more than a line-backer should be. For someone who’d had their face squished professionally, his features were chiselled and strong, his nose was slightly bent, with a faint bump on top. Instead of being off-putting, it was roguishly sexy. As a girl who had a thing for watching rugby in college, he was just my type. I cleared my throat and held my hand out to shake his.
When his dark eyes found mine, I had the sudden, startling sensation that it was only the two of us in the room. The feeling of his skin against mine made me shiver.
“I’m Rachel Evans. Pleased to meet you,” I said. My usually forceful tone was subdued. It was like someone had unplugged my brain. God, it must be getting to me, the long dry spell I’d been suffering through. Luca’s full lip tilted into a smirk.
“Luca, pleasure to meet you, Rachel,” he said in a voice that was ridiculously hot and deep. I felt like I was having a hot flash. Surely I couldn’t be going through the change at the age of thirty-five? I mean, stranger things had probably happened, and my underutilised reproductive system had probably given up hope. The sight of Luca standing there in all his athletic, burly youthful glory was a kick in the ovaries if there was ever one. “I’m glad to see your hustling got you here on time, more or less,” he said. I frowned at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You just about ran in front of my car out front. Gave my driver quite the shock,” Luca said. “You should check the crosswalk signal next time. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt,” he said. I practically gaped at him. Not only had he been in the car that had been so
eager to pull away, but now he was chastising me in front of my boss. I snapped my mouth shut.
“Well, tell your driver that next time, he shouldn’t be so eager to get to his destination and get rid of his passenger,” I snapped, turning my face, and muttering under my breath, “though I can understand him.” Luca gave a rough bark of laughter and I knew he’d heard me. I avoided his probing gaze and focused on my tablet.
“Let’s talk about the book,” Preston said, snapping me out of my daydreams. I pulled my tablet back out and flipped to the right screen. Heat suffused my cheeks as I read the allegations. “Rachel, can you read what the press is saying?” Preston prompted. A perfectly innocent request. Easy for him, he hadn’t just read what I had. I cleared my throat.
“Erm, well, it seems your ex, a Miss Alessia, has made claims in her book that Mr Romano prefers a particular type of lifestyle in… erm, bed,” I stuttered my way through, annoyed by how I was getting flustered. I’d dealt with all kinds of PR disasters from sex tapes to clients being left tied up in domme dungeons and needing set free, but for some reason, sitting across from Luca Romano in the flesh and reading his ex’s sex confessions was getting me all hot and bothered. I didn’t dare look up and meet his teasing eyes. The man clearly had no professional bounds.
“She is spiteful and unhappy with me,” Luca rumbled in his broad chest with perfect nonchalance.
“Why is she spiteful? Did you cheat on her?” I asked him before I could stop myself. Luca frowned.
“No, I would never. A woman deserves respect and monogamy, as does her man,” he said softly, and I couldn’t help meeting his eyes this time. I felt like they were reeling me in like a fish on a hook.
“Knowing what she’s looking for and why she’s making the allegations will help with squashing them, and any others that might arise,” I told him coolly, looking to Preston for support. I had to get a grip. The man was a client, and a few years younger than me, for god’s sake. He had no right to make me feel so flustered. Preston nodded supportively.
“Rachel is perfectly right. We need to think strategically. Does she have any evidence to trot out? Is this just the beginning… it might be that she wants you to make a gesture, probably financial, and if you do, we can kill it now,” Preston said.
“I won’t pay that woman one more cent,” Luca said shortly, with a finality I didn’t think would be easily moved.
“Mr Romano is not obligated to pay his ex anything at all. He does so as a gesture for the life they shared, however briefly. It seems Alessia wants more,” the lawyer, Mr Smith explained.
“So this is a money grab?” I ventured. Luca nodded, his eyes on me were like a touch.
“Clearly, she thinks that besmirching my client’s reputation will benefit her, or least embarrass him enough to force him to pay,” Mr Smith said tiredly. It was always exhausting, the rights and complications of breakups, and add into it exes who were money motivated, and it became a stressful situation.
“The allegations, are they true?” Preston asked, “Read them, Rachel,” he ordered me. I scanned the text and felt like my skin was on fire. I was sure my face was flaming like a teenager’s.
“It seems to centre on the sexually deviant lifestyle of Mr Romano. She says he indulged in indecent and depraved sexual practises and seems coy to elaborate.” Silence surged in the wake of that statement. I shifted around uncomfortably on my seat.
“Well, are they true?” Preston asked again. Luca shrugged his huge shoulders.
“What’s depraved? I enjoy sex with a consenting partner. Whatever we do that results in pleasure, does it matter?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine and sending a shiver of sparks down my spine. God, this man was beyond hot and I could easily picture him having depraved, indecent sex. Warmth blossomed between my legs, and I’m sure my nipples were poking holes through my blouse. Probably best not to picture it.
“You don’t seem particularly embarrassed about it,” I observed, wondering why he was here in the first place. Luca shrugged with a perfectly Latin, indolent grace.
“I’m not. Sex is sex. It’s natural, and I won’t apologise for it. Besides, I hardly recall a single instance of the so-called allegations happening between Alessia and me, over three years ago, if at all. She’s making up a story and trying to sell it.” he stated flatly, and then Mr Smith cleared his throat.
“It’s the board of directors that feel that the reputation of the whole brand might be affected by these allegations and any shadow of morality cast over Mr Romano’s character.” Mr Smith sounded like he wanted to sink through the floor, and I was right there with him. “Do you think that you could help?” the lawyer asked desperately. Preston looked at me, and I shook my head slightly. This wasn’t the case for me. I had little to no experience in the sport’s realm and being managed by a woman would surely only make the issue more difficult. Annoying as it was to admit it, any woman seen by Romano’s side would probably only provide fuel for speculation.
“We do have a few agents who are familiar with the sport’s industry, they will-“
“No. I want her. I want you.” Luca’s voice surprised us all, and the shock only continued as his words sank in. He was looking right at me, and I was caught in that gaze.
“Rachel is less versed in those areas, she currently works more with those in tech,” Preston began.
“I want her, or we’ll go somewhere else,” Luca said. His words held such authority, like a king expecting his commands to be followed, it dragged irritatingly over my nerves. He was infuriating, and why in god’s name did I find it so hot? Preston looked at me, a question in his eyes. I didn’t know what to say. My gut told me that working closely beside Luca was a recipe for trouble. I didn’t know exactly how, but I sensed the danger. My body, on the other hand, was far too excited at the prospect to trust.
“In that case, I’m sorry to lose you as a potential client,” Preston started. I felt a rush of gratitude for my boss. He never forced his agents into anything, and I’d been working with him so long, he was more a friend than a boss. I reached out a hand, before I could stop myself, and touched his arm.
“It’s alright. I’ll do it,” I turned to meet Luca’s dark gaze, which was fixed on my hand, still resting on Preston’s arm, “I’ll take your case on Mr Romano.”
He nodded, his expression turning faintly grim.
“Great, that’s very good news. I look forward to keeping the board abreast of developments.” Mr Smith couldn’t wait to be out of here. It sucked to be a babysitter for badly behaved billionaires, I knew it better than most. But that was my job, so I just had to suck it up.
“Mr Smith and I will go hammer out the contract. Rachel, why don’t you and Mr Romano have an initial chat,” Preston said, already sailing out the door and leaving me with the first man to unsettle me so in… forever maybe. Mr Smith shut the door behind him, and the sudden quiet in the room felt like a scream, after the noise and bustle. I looked at my tablet, and the headline of the article glared at me.
“LucaRomanolikeshiswomenboundandgagged.”
I turned it over and folded my arms, fixing my newest client with the most professional smile I could muster.
“So, Mr Romano, do you want to tell me a little more about yourself?” I started. He was staring at me with narrowed eyes, and failed to respond so long I was about to repeat myself when he spoke.
“Call me Luca, and tell me what’s the deal between you and your boss. Are you dating? Or just fucking?” he asked. I blinked at him.
“Excuse me?” I said numbly.
“You heard me, Rachel,” Luca said flatly. I flushed, I couldn’t help myself. His rough words were vulgar and offensive and hot, somehow. Why on earth I found them hot, I couldn’t say. This man was a client and was sitting talking dirtily to me. I should call Preston back and tell him I changed my mind, but I didn’t.
I didn’t want to.
“That’s none of your business, and it’s not my sex life that’s up for discussion,” I said primly. Luca smirked, but it didn’t touch his eyes.
“What do you want to know about my sex life, princess? Ask away, I’m an open book,” he said. My stomach clenched at that deep tone.
“Fine. What further things could your ex come out to say about you? Could she have visual evidence?”
“Such as?”
“Photographs, videos, other women involved in group sex, BDSM club membership,” I rattled off. Luca’s eyes lit up and narrowed at me.
“That is some list. You’re not as innocent as you look, are you Rachel?” he mused. I snorted, completely inelegant, not to mention, unprofessional, but I couldn’t help it. This guy had me all turned around.
“My innocence or lack thereof is not up for debate. It’s your reputation we are trying to salvage,”
“My reputation can take a little indecency. I’m not worried about it,” he said dismissively.
“Then why are you here? Why did you agree to work with me?” I demanded, getting annoyed with his attitude at this point.
“I thought that was obvious,” Luca said, surprising me by suddenly reaching across the table and circling my wrist with strong fingers. He held it in his giant paw. I knew my pulse was pounding against his fingers. “To get you alone,” he murmured. His words didn’t make any sense, and yet, they spread warm heat through my chest. “Now, put me out my misery and tell me, are you fucking Preston?” he asked roughly, his hand holding mine like a velvet manacle. Soft yet completely unbreakable. I shook my head wordlessly. “Good,” he murmured, his smirk held a victorious gleam that I couldn’t quite look away from.
Luca
Today had promised to be just as tedious as any other day until a little spit-fire had dashed across my path and almost ended up run over. The hand gesture she’d flipped, something between pissed off and thankful had made me smile, but moreover, her beautiful face and cute little scowl had stayed with me.
It had stayed with me all the way upstairs to the meeting I was late for.
So what, my ex was spreading around some sex rumours. I could hardly bring myself to care. They were true, after all. I did like sex, and I especially liked it, how had she put it? Ah, yes, depraved and indecent sex. That was the best kind, as far as I was concerned. Though come to think of it, I hadn’t been having anything remotely resembling such antics in a long, very long time, so it seemed ridiculous that she would be bringing it up now. Ridiculous, but predictable at any rate.
Expecting the meeting to be tedious, I’d walked into that meeting room, and boom. There she was… the spit-fire from the street. She had gripped my hand in a shake full of strength and met my eyes with some sort of hidden challenge. Conquerme, it whispered to the part of me that longed to tame her fire and make her purr for me.
Rachel. Her name suited her. She looked capable and intelligent. She held her own in a meeting with at least two very dominant
males. She was a sight to see, this beautiful strong woman, and I was most definitely looking.
Then, she’d touched her boss, Preston. Something had passed between them in a silent moment, and jealousy had ripped through me. Jealously like I could hardly remember feeling. Possession that had no basis in reality, welled in my veins. It irritated me, the thought that she was fucking her boss. It pissed me off, the thought that she was involved with anyone. Anyone who wasn’t me.
“This isn’t appropriate,” Rachel said, shaking my grip off her. I let her go reluctantly. “We need to work together and boundaries need to be drawn,” she said, folding her arms over her generous breasts. Attempting to put a little distance between us, not realising it was already too late. We had a chemistry that was filling the room up right now.
“So, you can ask me anything you want about my sex life, but I can’t ask you about yours?” I teased her, raising an eyebrow at her in a challenge. She stiffened. Her expression was cool, but there was a pulse point in her neck that was pounding like crazy.
“My sex life isn’t the topic of national news, and no, it’s not part of the job. Your sex life is,” she pointed out. I met her challenging stare head on a little while, waiting to see what else she’d say. But she seemed resolute not to engage.
“Very well, no there won’t be other women like I said, I don’t do cheating, and threesomes, group sex whatever, are cheating. When I am with a woman, I don’t look at any others, I don’t see any others. Only she exists for me,” I told Rachel. “There’s no evidence because I wouldn’t allow that either. I don’t perform on cue, and I certainly don’t mess around in bed with phones or cameras. If you have time or are bored enough to need that, you aren’t doing it right,” I continued. There was an intriguing pink blush working its way over Rachel’s smooth almond skin. I wanted to taste it. I wanted to rub that pinkness elsewhere, her breasts, her thighs, and see it spread across her entire body, while I reduced her to a puddle of want.
“I don’t need a lesson on sex, just a yes or no answer will suffice,” Rachel snapped at me. I smirked at her.
“I apologise, I didn’t mean to get you all hot and bothered, well, I certainly didn’t mean to here, where I can’t do anything about it,” I said. She swallowed.
“You’re being entirely inappropriate. I have every right to refuse to work with you. If I went and told Preston right now the things you are insinuating…”
“Feel free. I won’t stop you,” I said, sitting back. It was a risky play, but a worthwhile one. Rachel wanted me, I could see it in every line of her body. Her nipples were hard, I could almost make out the dusky circles beneath her white silk shirt, her pulse was pounding and her pupils were enlarged, aroused. I took calculated risks all the time. I had built a successful sports career and now a billion-dollar business off my ability to take the right chances. I hadn’t lost yet. And I couldn’t allow Rachel to be the first time I lost. I wanted her too badly. She whetted her lips, a pink tongue darting over her deep red lip stain.
“Or you could admit that you don’t really mind it. That it turns you on… makes you wet,” I said, pushing the limit with every word. She stood, pushing herself up, and grabbed up her tablet.
“I won’t sit here and listen to this. You’re abusing your power as a client and taking advantage of my professionalism. If we weren’t in this position, I wouldn’t have to listen to your comments-“
“Tell me what you’re really thinking, Rachel. I won’t hold it against you. You can say anything you want to me,” I urged, sitting forward, and watching her with rapt attention. “Unless you’re afraid to?” I challenged. She laughed and stepped forward. She leaned both hands on the desk, getting in my face. I loved every fucking second of it.
“I think you’re all talk and no action. I think you have a really high opinion of yourself and your so-called sexual prowess, but you’re probably all bark and no bite, and I think whatever your ex thinks of you is probably true,” she said quietly. “But to be honest, it’s not my problem, and I don’t care to find out.”
“Liar,” I said, sitting forward and bringing my face within reaching distance of hers. She didn’t budge, merely dropped her eyes to my lips. “You’d love to find out, you just don’t want to admit it,” I said,
in a cocky tone I knew she’d hate. Her eyes kept flickering up and down between mine and my lips. She could have kissed me then, she was close, I could feel it. And fuck knows I could have kissed her, but she had to be the one who initiated it. Her surrender and loss of control would be all the sweeter.
“You’re on your own, Luca. Good luck,” she said finally, pulling herself back. Her professional veneer was back, sliding over her hunger like a mask, and I respected that discipline. It was certainly stronger than mine, which was ragged and barely holding, and I was sporting a hard-on that might yet lift the table. She turned on her heel and strode out, leaving me there with that desperately hard cock and the certainty that I had just met my match, and my future wife.
Rachel
Sheer outrage at the audacity and downright shocking carnality of my run-in with Luca Romano sent me into a strange kind of brain fog all day. I did not check everything off my to-do list, I did not send all the emails I wanted, or call the people I’d planned to. I was just off, and I knew the reason.
Being propositioned, if that was what that even was, first thing in the morning had had a strange effect on my brain. Every time the phone rang, I jumped. Every time someone called to me across the office, I started guiltily, only then realising I had been staring into space and replaying the entire thing in my head. How messed up was it that a fully dressed conversation in meeting room 3b could be hotter than any date I’d been on. Ever. I had to get out more. I had to find a way to balance work and dating better. It was nothing I didn’t tell myself a hundred times. One of the problems I found was that by the time I liked someone appropriate, I’d lost interest as soon as we got to know each other better.
I shied away from anyone high drama, my work had put me off those types of men fast enough. My work, and, if I’m honest with myself… my childhood too.
I hated drama and press attention. My mother, a minor celebrity playwright, had suffered terribly when she was dragged through a messy, very public divorce. The whole thing had given me a serious
need to soothe over those kinds of situations and was the main reason I was so good at my job. I couldn’t stand it in my personal life, and Luca Romano looked like exactly the type of person who didn’t care what kind of field day the press had about him. The whole experience also lowered my expectations of finding a man I wanted to share my life with. Men you trusted disappointed you. ‘PrinceCharming Was APlayer’ was my mother’s novel following her divorce, and at the tender age of thirteen, it was a very formative part of my childhood. My phone rang on my desk.
“You’ve got Rachel Evans,”
“I’m calling from News Right Now, we were given this number to address enquiries about the Luca Romano sex allegations.”
“He’s not giving comments at this time,” I said and hung up quickly. The phone rang again. I ignored it, instead, dialling Preston’s office. I got his secretary instead, as apparently, the boss was out for the afternoon. I left a message and hung up. I got another call about Luca Romano and repeated my line about no comment. This was treading into dangerous territory if I didn’t want to be the one representing him. It seemed someone, probably Mr Smith was directing the tabloids at me, and I couldn’t tell him not to until I’d spoken to Preston.
I left the office in the same cloud of confusion, sexual frustration and offence that Luca had propelled me into this morning. I went home and showered, then spent a useless twenty minutes trying to do some yoga to calm myself down. When that didn’t work, I started to eat a pint of ice cream instead, which was much more relaxing.
At ten pm, my phone rang. The annoying thing about being in PR for high profile clients? You were always on call.
“Mrs Evans, thank goodness I’ve gotten hold of you,” Mr Smith’s panicked voice came to me over the line.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, immediately alert.
“Mr Romano is at a club, and his ex just appeared. There’s press arriving outside, and I’m sure he’s going to confront her… please, I just don’t know how to handle this, and the board won’t be happy.”
“It’s alright, just tell me the club,” I said, moving on auto-pilot. I was no stranger to this exact situation, and the fact remained that if Luca Romano caused a problem that damaged him and his firm, I was still responsible for his image until I could officially quit. I dressed quickly in my go-to babysitting spoiled, drunk billionaires at night outfit. A little black dress that was pretty modest, and black heeled boots. I shoved a leather jacket on top, shook my damp hair out and swiped on some eyeliner and mascara.
It wasn’t for Luca, I told myself sternly, even as I slicked on a little dark red lip stain. It was just to fit in at the club, and if I ended up in any photos. It would hardly do my firm any good for one of its agents to be pictured with bedhead and toothpaste on her zits.
Half convincing myself, I headed out.
The journey downtown took no time at all, but by the time I got to the club, there were already paps swarming outside, and some trying their luck in the line. I went swiftly to the front of the queue and introduced myself to security. I pointed out the paps I recognised in the line and went into the club.
Loud music filled my head and the floor seemed to be vibrating. I walked along the neon-lit hall toward a large dancefloor and looked for the VIP section, where Mr Smith had said he’d left Luca. I made my way there, sweet-talking the security once more, and quickly climbed the stairs. Once I was onto the higher level, the music was mercifully quieter, and I immediately saw the problem. Alessia Romano, the ex with the scandalous book, was sitting with a squad of other surgery-faced friends, all watching a booth in the corner, and the roman profile of a man who looked like some kind of hedonistic party god, with the neon lights and shadows painting all the artful hollows of his face. I bypassed the jilted girlfriend’s club and made my way toward Luca. If he was currently schmoozing someone, I’d probably die a little of embarrassment, and maybe
even, a smidge of disappointment. I’m woman enough to admit it. I’d be disappointed that his sexy, forceful words had been nothing but a passing fancy, but then again, I didn’t really expect much more.
I rounded the booth and saw him in all his muscled, gorgeous glory. He was alone, with his phone near one hand, and a bottle of Evian in the other.
“Mr Romano, are you aware that your ex is here?” I demanded, cutting to the chase. He didn’t look surprised to see me, his eyes lighting with something as they cut to me. His mouth tilted into a grin.
“Perfectly. And what brings you here, Ms Evans? Just out for a casual mid-week club night?” he drawled in that irritatingly sexy way he had.
“You know precisely why I’m here. Mr Smith called me,”
“Good old Alan, looks like I owe him one,” Luca said and patted the leather booth beside him. “Come sit with me, gorgeous,” he said. I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him as stern a look as I could muster.
“What are you doing here? Don’t you know it’s important for you to lie low just now?”
“Why should I? In case everyone thinks I like to fuck and get a bit freaky with it? Who cares? Come and sit here,” he added, more commanding now. I glanced back at Alessia, aware that I too, was being watched now. I was too conspicuous standing in front of him.
“Fine,” I muttered, coming to sit by his side. “But only because you’re making a scene,”
“Sweetheart, I’m just sitting here, you’re the one who came in yelling,” Luca said reasonably, and turned to me, draping an arm along the back of the booth. “You look beautiful in that dress, but you’d look beautiful in anything,” he murmured. I blinked in surprise at his words, flattered for a moment, before I remembered myself and scowled.
“That’s enough, we will not be repeating this morning.”
“Won’t we? Then why are you here? I thought you were done with me?” Luca reminded me of my hasty words. I shrugged, taking
my leather jacket off in the stuffy warmth of the club.
“I’m not officially off the clock yet, and I don’t want Preston to get any blowback just because I personally find you loathsome,” I said. Luca’s lips curled in a wicked smile.
“That’s not all you find me though, is it, princess?” he said. His hand was touching my shoulder, his thumb making circles over the top of my strap. I had the sudden vision of him slipping that long thick digit under, and sliding it off. I had to get a grip.
“Annoying, irritating… that pretty much covers it,” I said, trying my best not to look too closely at his face. It was too close. Too tempting. “Why are you here?”
“Why do you think?” he asked, taking a swig of water, before offering me an unopened bottle from the table. He hadn’t even been drinking, I couldn’t smell any alcohol on him.
“To piss off your ex?” I guessed. He laughed.
“Not even close,” he said.
“Fine, I give… why are you here?” I finally caved asked. There didn’t seem to be any other reason for it. The music below was getting louder. The drinking part of the night seemed to be drawing to a close, and the club was slowly upping the music to make people shout over it, get thirsty again and keep buying.
Luca leaned in to be heard, surprising me by bringing that handsome face close to mine. Close up he smelled so good, like linens and sunshine.
“To see you,” he said, his lips brushed my ear, and his hand held the heavy curtain of my hair back. He didn’t just hold it back, he nonchalantly wrapped it around his fist, as he tilted my exposed ear to murmur in it. “I’m here, and I’ve been here, waiting for you to show.”
“Why?” I asked, twisting away to face him.
“Because our conversation earlier is not done… you don’t end something by walking away.” His tone was light, but there was an air to him that was tense. This nonchalant lounging, the water… it was all an act to get me to come out here. I swung between confused, annoyed and strangely flattered.
“Do you always have to be in control?” I asked him.
“Do you?” he challenged back. “Have you ever tried giving up that precious control? You’d be surprised how relieving it can feel,” he said.
“I’m not the one manipulating everyone to dance on their little strings tonight,” I said stiffly. This afternoon I was determined not to even see him again, and now, here I was, alone with him in a nightclub of all places.
“I wanted to see you, you can’t blame me, princess. If you hadn’t run off, I wouldn’t have had to resort to trickery to see you,” Luca said.
“You have a screw loose, you know that? Outside is packed with paps and your ex is currently shooting daggers into the side of my face. The story of you and her will be all over the papers tomorrow. Was it worth it?” I asked, exasperated. His smile faded somewhat, as he nodded.
“Yes, to see you, it was.” His look made my mouth feel like it was stuffed with cotton and like my clothes might simply dissolve off, burned by the heat of my longing. “Tell me you’ve felt anything like this feeling between us before… and I’ll back off. I’ll be good, I’ll keep my distance.” I opened my mouth to tell him. The words were right there. The words that would set my life back to rights and make Luca Romano just another client. But they wouldn’t come, no matter how I tried to get them out.
My silence was all the answer he needed. He moved closer, his hand brushing my leg, his scent enveloping me, and I could see it all playing out. I would give in to this mad lust between us, Alessia, the dreaded ex, would storm over and scream at us, someone would video it, it would leak, and it wouldn’t just be my celebrity client in the papers, but me as well. Just like my mother. Ashamed and humiliated for all the city to see.
“Stop,” I said, just before he reached me and his demanding, possessive touch sent my remaining self-control flying out the window. “I have to go, and you have to as well. I’m here to do a job, and that’s it.” I stood up and took a shaky step back from him. He
had leaned away from me, resting his long arms along the back of the booth, and now narrowed his eyes at me.
“Your self-control continues to impress. What does it take to make you lose it?” he asked. I shrugged.
“I wouldn’t know. It’s never happened.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, pondering the issue as if it was one of life’s greatest philosophical questions.
“Let’s go. I can’t go until you do,” I told him plainly, feeling weariness creep into my tone. I tried and failed to stifle a yawn. Luca surprised me by standing immediately.
“Come on then, I’ll leave, if you let me see you home.”
“No need, I’ll get a cab,” I told him straight away. He sighed, and hooked his finger through a loop on my leather jacket and tugged me close.
“Why do you have to make me resort to petty manipulations? If you don’t let me see you home, I’ll go over to Alessia right now and make a horrendous scene,” he promised, and I could tell by his tone that he would. He didn’t give a fuck.
“What about your reputation?”
“We’ve covered this. I don’t care.”
“Ok, what about mine?” I challenged, heat rising in me at his infuriating contrariness.
“I thought you quit? You’re not responsible for me, princess, I’m a grown man,” he said. Oh, of that, I was well aware. I turned on my heel and started toward the stairs.
“Come on then, if you insist.”
C H A P T E R F O U R
Luca
I drove Rachel home. I had made it a point to drive myself this evening. I wanted to be alone with her, and moreover, I wanted her to see me without the trappings of success and distance that being a verified billionaire came with.
We drove under the city lights, banding orange and gold across Rachel as she sat beside me in the car. Soft music played, and Rachel wound the window down, letting her hand play on the warm, summer night air outside.
For a moment I felt sixteen and free as a bird, driving the small roads of the hick town I’d grown up in outside the city. It had been all rolling fields, grain silos and small-town nostalgia all-round. It had been freedom, and I’d never appreciated it until it was gone.
“Where did you grow up?” I asked Rachel. She slid me a sideways glance.
“Here, in the city, you?”
“Upstate. I always wanted to retire up there.”
“But you made a billion dollar company instead,” Rachel mused. “Dreams change,” she said with a touch of wistfulness to her voice.
“Not mine. I still want to retire upstate. How about you? Did your dreams change?” I longed to know more about this woman who had fascinated me at first sight. She shook her head.
‘You have to have dreams for them to change,” she said ruefully, then pulled a face. “That sounded pathetic. I have had dreams, of course, I have. Just sometimes, as you get older, they didn’t seem as great as you thought they’d be.” I understood that sentiment completely.
“Like running a billion dollar company when all you want to do is be upstate on a vineyard,” I mused. She laughed, turning to face me, and tucking her knee up on the seat. She looked adorable with her guard lowered even a fraction.
“A vineyard? I would never have pegged you as a farmer,” she muttered.
“A vigneron,” I corrected, and she laughed. She had a dirty laugh, low and throaty. It warmed my insides to be the cause of it.
“Sorry, a vigneron,” she said, her pronunciation competent and sexy. “I’m just up here, drop me there at the awning.” She pointed at a darkened apartment building. I pulled to a stop at the curb and was out the door before she could protest.
“You don’t have to see me up,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Of course I do,” I said, waiting for her to shut the door. “I said I was seeing you home, and that meant to the door.”
“I’m not inviting you in,” she said. I grinned at her prim tone.
“I guessed as much, princess. Regardless, I need to see you safely inside.” Men saw their women home to safety behind a locked door, that was just the way of it. She considered me a moment longer, before slamming the car door and striding toward the apartment building.
“They’ll give you a ticket there,” she said.
“Let them.”
Inside the building was nice. Rachel worked hard and did well for herself. I was impressed by her independence. We climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator. I wondered for a moment if she didn’t fancy her chances of keeping us apart in such an enclosed space? I didn’t blame her. She was a smart woman.
We arrived at her door, and I didn’t give her a chance to put distance between us. She turned to say goodbye, and I was already bringing my arms up to cage her against the closed door. Her eyes jumped to mine, and she whetted her lips.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a rush.
“Why are you so determined to ignore this chemistry between us?” I wondered aloud. This was another risk. It could go either way. Rachel could admit to some great heartbreak, or hell, even another man she was interested in. She could tell me a devastating reason why she was resisting our electric connection, and I’d have to back off, go slower and ease her in.
“I really don’t think we have chemistry,” Rachel announced. Satisfaction grew in me. She had taken the other option, the most easily disproved one.
“Princess, you know that you are goading me to prove it, once and for all,” I murmured. This close, her eyes were so grey-blue, they looked like a stormy sea. She tilted her chin up toward me. I was a big guy, tall, broad, and Rachel was small in comparison, but not short for a woman. She fit me perfectly.
I scented her capitulation on the wind like a wolf hunting its prey. I brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, and run my thumb down her velvet, plush cheek. She swallowed, her elegant throat bobbing. How dare she try and deny this pull? It was a crime.
“How do you think you can prove it?” she asked, and her voice was throaty and low. I leaned in, and ran my nose in a line up her cheek, smelling the sweet scent of her skin.
“I could kiss you, and then we’d know. Or, I could put my hand up your little dress here, and touch your panties and see if they’re damp for me…” I said roughly. She shuddered, her eyes drifting closed, as she pressed her thighs together. My girl liked dirty talk, which suited me just fine. I’d talk dirty to her all day if she’d let me.
“You’re incorrigible,” she murmured, which was far from the slap I had half been expecting.
“I am, aren’t I?” I murmured, before I leaned in, and captured her mouth in a kiss. It was immediate heat, a lightning strike running through my body and into the ground. I grabbed her around
Another random document with no related content on Scribd:
