Читать книгу The Dare Collection January 2020 - Lauren Hawkeye, A.C. Arthur - Страница 24

LIGHT FELL ACROSS my face and I groaned, turning over and burrowing my face into the soft pillow. My body felt heavy, my muscles aching along with other, more sensitive parts of me. It was a delightfully sensual feeling.

Finally I stretched and cracked open an eye, pleased to find that I hadn’t materialised in my crappy Mongkok apartment and that apparently I was still in heaven.

The sun was coming through the huge windows of Damian’s large, roomy bedroom, lighting up the dark walls and the polished dark wood covering the floor. A thick black rug covered the middle of the room, the huge white bed I was lying in a pale contrast. There was a soft-looking modular sofa near the bed, covered in dark, silvery velvet. The whole effect was one of richness and decadence, and I loved it.

I rolled over, luxuriating in Damian’s expensive sheets and soft mattress.

You need to go tonight. Two days, remember?

A tight feeling sat behind my breastbone, as if a part of me felt sad at the thought. Which was stupid. This was a fling, a fantasy. A wonderful holiday in a luxurious setting with a sexy man.

I was Cinderella and when the clock struck midnight I’d be going back to my place beside the fire. Or, rather, back to my life and the business Mr Chen had left for me. And that wasn’t bad. It was a living and it was better than being on the streets, right?

Ignoring the sudden doubt, I shoved back the sheets and slipped out of bed, pausing to grab Damian’s grey T-shirt from where it lay on the floor and pull it on over my head.

Then I went in search of him, heading down the hallway to the living area, following the sound of his rich, deep voice.

He was standing near the windows, on the phone yet again. Dressed only in a pair of worn jeans, the morning light fell over the contours of his broad shoulders and muscled chest, making the coloured ink of his tattoos stand out. As I watched, he ran a hand through his black hair, lifting it into soft inky spikes. The sun glinted off the ring in his eyebrow and turned his eyes molten, gleaming silver from underneath his black lashes, and my heart caught a little.

He was a beautiful man and yet there was something else going on underneath all that beauty. Something I’d caught a glimpse of last night as he’d told me about his memory; about his mother and sister too. Something painful. It shouldn’t matter to me and I shouldn’t want to know it—I’d been with him only two days after all—but his pain scraped at the edges of my own heart and I couldn’t ignore it. I’d always been too soft, as Mr Chen had liked to say.

Damian looked at me and I moved instinctively, going to him and wrapping my arms around his lean waist, pressing myself against his hard, hot body, hungry to be close to him even though I’d been sleeping next to him all night.

He finished up his phone call and put his arms around me, holding me without speaking, as if he enjoyed the contact as much as I did. Then he lifted me up, carrying me over to the breakfast bar and setting me down on top of it. Putting his palms down on either side of my thighs, he leaned in, giving me one of his focused looks. ‘I have a question for you, Sugar.’

‘Oh?’ I touched his mouth, loving the softness of it under my finger, given it was pretty much the only thing about him that was soft, following the line of his bottom lip as it curved into a smile.

‘Naughty girl. This is serious.’

‘Uh-huh.’ I leaned forward and kissed him, indulging myself shamelessly. ‘So is kissing you.’

His smile this time was natural and full of heat. ‘Seducing me again?’

‘Just practising my skills.’ I grinned then kissed him once more, nipping at his bottom lip.

He laughed and tangled a hand in my hair, pulling me back a little. ‘Hold that thought. At least until after you’ve answered my question.’

I narrowly missed a pout. ‘More questions?’

‘Remember the launch of the non-profit I was talking about last night? And how I have to go to London for it? Well, Morgan is managing the PR, and she called me yesterday to tell me that I need to bring a date.’

I blinked. ‘A date?’

‘Yeah, that was my response.’ He twined my hair around his fingers. ‘It has to be someone who is going to impress potential sponsors so apparently I’m not allowed to bring my “usual random pick-ups or one-night stands”.’ There was a wry note in his voice that made me want to smile. ‘It seems I’m not impressive enough on my own, which I get. My reputation is not...stellar, let’s just say. Or, at least, not from a charity perspective. Too many parties and shit.’

‘Do you care about your reputation?’

‘Not really. But Morgan does. And so does Ulysses. Which means I have to too.’ His eyes glinted. ‘Fancy a trip to London, Sugar?’

A pulse of shock went through me. ‘You mean you want...me to be your date?’

That sexy smile played around his mouth. ‘Yeah, I do.’

‘But...’ I stopped, a thousand insecurities that I’d been trying not to think of suddenly bubbling to the surface.

He raised a brow. ‘But what?’

‘But I’m not...’ I stopped again, feeling my cheeks heat. You’re not pretty enough, you mean? ‘I mean, I’m kind of your usual random pick-up, aren’t I? Or a one-night stand?’

‘Technically you’re a two-night stand,’ he corrected. ‘But, seriously, you’re the perfect woman to have on my arm for this. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re smart. And observant.’ He grinned. ‘You can take a look at our potential sponsors and tell me which ones to trust.’

Being at an important function. On his arm. There would be lots of media covering it, no doubt, and lots of cameras. Lots of people wanting to know who I was and why I was there. Why I was with him.

I would lose my anonymity completely.

My expression must have given me away, because his black brows twitched in sudden concern. ‘Hey, what’s up? You don’t want to go?’

‘There’ll be media there,’ I said. ‘They’ll all want to know who I am. My face will be known and...’ I took a breath. ‘That will put Mr Chen’s business at risk.’

Damian frowned. ‘Okay, that’s a legit concern. But we don’t have to give the media your real name. We can make up any story we want for you. And as for your face...’ He lifted one of his long-fingered hands, his fingertips brushing my cheek. ‘You’ll have your fifteen minutes, Sugar. But then everyone will forget because everyone always does. The public’s memory has about the span of a goldfish’s.’

‘But you won’t forget.’ I wasn’t sure what made me say it. Maybe it was simply because I wanted the reassurance. ‘Will you?’

‘No.’ One finger drifted along my jaw. ‘Everyone will forget but me.’

It was true what he said about the public’s memory. I could go with him, be in the spotlight for a little then disappear. The next scandal would hit and no one would even remember I existed.

No one except him.

You don’t care about the party or even the anonymity. You just want more time with him.

It was true, I did. And that was probably a warning for me not to go, because I couldn’t let myself get attached to him. Couldn’t allow him to become important to me. But... I knew I was going to go all the same. Because I wasn’t ready for this to end. I wanted more time with him, more memories of heat, pleasure and laughter to last me for when I had to go back to my real life.

I had a feeling this chance would never come again, so how could I say no?

‘In that case...’ I tried not to let my voice get too emotional. ‘I’d love to come.’

A bright, quicksilver spark ignited in Damian’s eyes, making my heartbeat accelerate and my breath catch; he was pleased, I could tell.

‘Are you sure, though?’ I went on, unable to help myself. ‘You haven’t got someone else who’s more...’ I wanted to say beautiful but couldn’t bring myself to voice it. ‘I don’t know, more suitable?’

His fingers moved from my mouth down to my chin, gripping me gently. ‘Why wouldn’t you be suitable?’

‘Well, I’m...just kind of...’ I stopped again, feeling stupid.

‘Kind of what?’

You’re going to have to tell him.

Especially as I’d now made it into a big deal.

‘Ordinary,’ I said, forcing the word out. ‘I’m just kind of ordinary.’

His gaze narrowed. ‘Did you miss the bit where I said you were beautiful?’

‘I know, but I—’

‘I don’t say shit I don’t mean, Sugar.’ His thumb brushed over my bottom lip caressingly. ‘And you are beautiful. And passionate. And, given how you’ve managed to stay one step ahead of the authorities for so long, incredibly smart. All of which makes you very far from ordinary.’

My stomach did a long, slow somersault and I couldn’t think of a single word to say except, ‘Oh.’

I knew I shouldn’t let his opinion matter to me. But it did.

‘I guess the real question, though,’ he went on, studying me, ‘Is why would you think that?’

I let out a breath and glanced away from him. ‘I wasn’t fishing or—’

‘I know you’re not. But seriously, Thea. Why the hell would you think you’re ordinary?’

Telling him the truth would make me feel vulnerable, but I couldn’t think of a decent excuse. And, besides, I’d already told him most of it.

‘I don’t really,’ I muttered. ‘It’s just... Mr Chen didn’t think I was good enough for him. Or at least not good enough to adopt me. I know he said it was because I wasn’t his blood but...’ I stopped, my throat tightening, and then a whole lot of words I hadn’t meant to say came tumbling out. ‘My parents just left me on the stairs of the orphanage. They didn’t even leave a note. And sometimes I wonder why they didn’t name me or leave any sign that they cared about me. And sometimes I think it was because there was nothing about me that made them care.’

A silence fell.

Oh, God, why had I said all that? It sounded so pathetic and needy—attention-seeking, even—all things that Mr Chen had told me I needed to overcome if I wanted to make a success of this job.

So much for overcoming...

I forced my mouth shut, focusing on the bright inks of the dragon on Damian’s chest instead, given it was better than looking into his face.

Then a finger was beneath my chin, he was tilting my head back with irresistible strength and I met his gaze, dreading what I was going to see there.

But there was none of Mr Chen’s cold disapproval, only an oddly fierce expression that I didn’t understand. ‘You are not ordinary, Thea,’ he said quietly, forcefully. ‘I don’t know why your parents gave you up, but it wasn’t about you, I’d stake my entire fucking corporation on it. You are rare and precious. Priceless, even.’ Conviction burned in his eyes, his thumb moving caressingly over my bottom lip. ‘That’s why I’m asking you to go to London with me. Because I’m not ready for you to disappear on me. I want more of you, understand?’

There was a hot feeling inside me, an ache that I didn’t want to examine too closely, afraid of what it might mean. So I didn’t examine it. I looked at him instead, seeing the belief in his gaze.

He thought I was rare and precious. He thought I was priceless.

Careful. You have to be so careful, Thea.

Oh, yes, I did. Mr Chen had been very clear: no husband or children. No friends, as they couldn’t know anything that could compromise client discretion. He’d told me that it was easier to have no one, to get used to being alone, because that had worked for him. So I had got used to it, telling myself that it was easy not to want anything if you tried hard enough.

Except now I’d taken a step over that line and allowed myself to want something: more of Damian Blackwood.

It’s going to blow up in your face; you know that, right?

Maybe it would. But right now I didn’t much care.

I didn’t know what to say—anything was going to sound way too emotional and I had the sense he didn’t want that. So I settled for nipping playfully on his thumb instead.

He smiled and took his hand away, leaning forward and kissing me, long and slow. ‘Leave everything to me. I’ll arrange it.’

Damian was as good as his word.

Over the next few days, he dealt with everything, including the issue of a passport, because I didn’t have one—I’d never needed one before now. I didn’t know how he managed to get it through so fast—connections, in all likelihood—but a passport was soon produced, and the problematic issue of clothing was resolved.

I was all set to go home and grab some things, but Damian wouldn’t hear of it, handling the ordering of some clothes for me himself. Which was fine. I was more than happy to let him order and pay for things for me. After all, what was the point of a having billionaire lover if he didn’t buy you stuff? I wasn’t all that interested in clothes anyway, but it sure was nice to be taken care of.

However, when the small mountain of clothing arrived by delivery that afternoon and it was all in my size, and all fitting perfectly, I could suddenly see why he’d called himself the glue that held his corporation together.

He remembered everything, from fluctuating stock prices and employee wages, to the names of everyone in his massive company. He could recall spreadsheets and reports, money going in and out, as well as what was happening in all the different markets and industries in which his company was involved.

He was a walking, talking database and it also soon became clear why he was on the phone all the time; people were constantly calling him to request information, ask his opinion or to solve problems. And he dealt with it all with a combination of easy charm and firmness that I found insanely attractive as well as a little scary.

Because his formidable memory, combined with the razor-sharp intelligence that went along with it, was incredibly intimidating. And when the fierce intensity of his will shone through at the same time... Well, he was a force of nature. But he kept that well hidden behind the charm he cultivated. Behind the mask of that smile.

Personally, I found his intensity incredibly exciting, especially at night, in bed.

He always remembered what I liked and how I liked it and he’d watch me intently, using my reactions as cues either to push my boundaries or pull back if it got too much. It was amazing having all that attention focused on me.

It was also like a rollercoaster you couldn’t get off, careening around corners and looping the loop, going too fast for control and wondering if you were going to crash and burn, yet loving the wind in your hair anyway.

I could get off that rollercoaster, though, and I knew it. I could tell him that I didn’t want to go anywhere and slip away back to Mongkok and my existence in the shadows.

It wouldn’t take much to leave.

But I didn’t want to. The part of me that ached for the sun wanted to keep basking in it while it lasted. And if leaving ended up being harder than I thought it would be, then what of it?

I’d survived everything else life had thrown at me—what was a little more pain?