Читать книгу Modern Romance July 2015 Books 1-4 - Кэтти Уильямс, Maisey Yates, Cathy Williams - Страница 12
ОглавлениеLOUKAS STARED INTO Jessica’s aquamarine eyes—as cool as any swimming pool he’d ever dived into—and wondered how to answer her question. His instinct was to tell her that his past and his career trajectory were none of her business. Was her sudden interest sparked because she was turned on by his obvious wealth like most of her sex?
Yet in a way she had been partly responsible for the dramatic turnaround in his fortunes, though not in a way which either of them could have predicted. Her rejection of him had cut deep. Deeper than he could ever have anticipated. Her cool dismissal of his proposal had kicked like a horse at his pride and his heart, leaving him angry and empty. And bewildered. Because hadn’t he once vowed to himself that never again would he give a woman the opportunity to hurt him?
‘I stopped working for Dimitri Makarov,’ he said.
She frowned. ‘You mean, you got tired of being a bodyguard?’
Loukas gave a hard smile in response to her question. Yes, he had grown tired of living life through someone else. Of standing on the sidelines. Of always having to abide by someone else’s rules and someone else’s timetable. And waiting—always waiting.
‘It was time for a change,’ he said, watching the way her hair gleamed in the candlelight. ‘I didn’t want to carry on indefinitely and at that stage Dimitri’s personal life was so out of control that the two of us were living like vampires. He never went to bed before dawn and, as a consequence, neither did I. We spent our life in casinos and then we’d take a plane to another country and another casino, grabbing sleep where we could.’
His Russian boss had been out of control—and so had he. Each of them running from their particular demons and seeking refuge in the bottom of a whisky glass. On the rebound from Jessica, Loukas had gone from woman to woman, despising them all no matter how much they professed to love him, because hadn’t he proved once and for all that you could never believe a woman when she said she loved you?
And then one morning he had woken up and looked in the mirror, barely able to recognise the ravaged face staring back, and had known that something needed to change. Or rather, that he needed to change. ‘It was time for something new,’ he finished flatly. ‘A new direction.’
He watched while she took a sip of her wine—a wine as cool and as pale as she was.
‘So what did you do?’ she questioned. ‘Go to college?’
Loukas couldn’t hold back the bitterness of his answering laugh, but he waited while their food was placed before them—fish and vegetables stacked into intricate towers standing in puddles of shiny orange sauce. Why the hell could you never get simple food these days? he wondered fleetingly. ‘No, Jess—I didn’t go to college,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Those kinds of opportunities aren’t really a good fit with someone like me. I started working as a bouncer at a big nightclub in New York.’
She narrowed her eyes. He thought she looked disappointed. Was that still too thuggish an occupation for someone of her delicate sensibilities to accept?
‘And what was that like?’ she asked politely, like someone making small talk at a cocktail party.
‘It was like every man’s fantasy,’ he said softly and now he could see the surprise in her eyes, and yes, the hurt—and suddenly he found that he was enjoying himself and that he wanted to hurt her some more. To hurt her as she had hurt him. ‘It’s a power trip to be in a position like that,’ he drawled softly. ‘It gives you a kick to turn away people with overstuffed wallets who ask if you know who they are. Not a particularly admirable admission—but true. And women love bouncers. Really love them,’ he finished deliberately. ‘It’s one of the perks of the job.’
She had been sawing at a piece of pumpkin on her plate, but suddenly she put her fork down and he noticed that her hand was trembling. And that was unusual, he thought with satisfaction, because Jess had always had the steadiest hands of anyone he’d ever known. Hands that could throw a tennis ball up to a certain height with pinpoint accuracy. Hands that could smash a ball into kingdom come. He could see the faint uncertainty in her eyes as she asked the inevitable question.
‘And I suppose there must have been, well...lots of women?’
He shrugged, because if a female asked you a question as dumb as that, then they deserved to hear the answer. He thought about the pieces of paper slipped into his hand or stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. About waking up in vast bedrooms on the Upper East Side with some sinewy heiress riding him until he cried out. The tiny thong he’d found stuffed in his jacket pocket when he’d been going through airport security and the knowing wink of the uniformed official when he’d seen it. He smiled. ‘Enough,’ he said succinctly.
‘But bouncers don’t get to be big bosses,’ she said, her words sounding forced and rushed, as if she suddenly wanted to change the subject. ‘They don’t get to own companies the size of Lulu.’
‘No, they don’t.’ He picked up his wine and swirled it round in the glass, thinking that at one time he could have lived for a month on the money this bottle had cost.
‘So, how...’ she waved her hand through the air, as if he owned the expensive restaurant too ‘...did you get all this?’
He drank some wine. ‘I started to hear rumours that Dimitri’s new protection was not to be trusted. And then one day his secretary contacted me and begged me to help. I’d left months before and didn’t want to get involved, but she was worried sick—crying down the phone and telling me she thought he was in danger. So I travelled to Paris to talk to him but by that time he had become so big that he thought he was invincible. He agreed to see me, but he wouldn’t believe any of the things I’d discovered about the people he was associating with.’ His mouth hardened into a grim line. ‘Dimitri only ever listened when it was something he wanted to hear. So I gave up trying and planned to take a flight out of the city that same night.’
‘But something...stopped you?’ she said, breaking into the sudden silence as his words tailed away. And suddenly her eyes were very wide, as if she’d seen something in his face which she wasn’t supposed to see.
‘Yes, something stopped me,’ he agreed grimly. ‘It transpired that his new bodyguard was connected to a gang who were on the brink of stealing from my ex Russian boss, and my presence in the city was seen as a bonus, because I knew more about Dimitri’s affairs than anyone else. And that pretty much sealed my fate. They captured me on the way to Charles de Gaulle airport.’
‘They captured you?’ she said, only now her voice had a break in it, as if she didn’t quite believe the words she was saying. ‘What...what happened?’
For a moment the only sound was the tinkly little flourish which came at the end of the jazz player’s song and the smattering of applause which followed.
He shrugged. ‘They beat me and threatened me. Said I would die unless I told them what they wanted to know.’
‘They said you would die?’ Her face had gone completely pale.
‘It’s the underworld’s way of suggesting you hand over the information they want,’ he said sardonically.
And...did you?’
‘Are you crazy?’ He picked up his glass but this time he didn’t drink from it. ‘I was expecting to die anyway, so I was damned if I was going to tell them anything first.’
She was blinking at him as if she’d never really seen him before. ‘You thought you were going to die?’
He heard the frightened squeak of her voice and thought how protected she’d always been. But then, most people had been protected from the kind of worlds he had inhabited. ‘Yeah,’ he agreed with soft sarcasm. ‘Just like something out of a film isn’t it, Jess?’
She shook her head, as if his flippancy was inappropriate. ‘So what saved you?’
He shrugged. Tonight the wine tasted good, just as everything had tasted good when he’d first been released. He remembered falling to his knees on the dank concrete of that underground car park with drops of blood dripping darkly from his nose, telling himself that never again would he take anything for granted. But he had, of course. He’d discovered that gratitude didn’t last very long.
‘Dimitri started to believe that maybe I had been speaking the truth and some hunch made him have me followed to the airport. They got to me in the nick of time, and when I was brought back to his place and he saw the state I was in, I think it made him realise he couldn’t carry on the way he was—something his secretary had been telling him for a long time. And he gave me diamonds as a reward for what I’d done.’
‘Diamonds?’ she questioned blankly.
‘He owns one of Russia’s biggest mines. He gave me jewels which were priceless and he told me to learn to love them.’ He saw her flinch at the word, as if he had just sworn. And maybe he had. Maybe it was easier to think of love as a profanity than as something which was real. He remembered Dimitri’s words as he had run his fingers through the glittering cascade. Learn to love these cold stones, my friend, for they are easier to love than women.
‘And did you?’ Jess’s cool voice broke into his thoughts. ‘Learn to love them?’
He smiled. ‘I did. It’s easy to love something which is so valuable, but I developed a genuine interest in them. They began to fascinate me. I liked their beauty and perfection and the way all that value could be hidden in the pocket of a man’s jacket. I liked the fact that they only ever increase in value and I cannot deny that it gave me pleasure to realise their power over people. Women will do pretty much anything for diamonds,’ he said deliberately.
‘Will they?’ came her light answer, as if she didn’t care.
‘Some I sold and others I kept,’ he continued. ‘I’m planning to use some of them as the centrepiece of the new launch. No more wristwatches for you from now on, my blue-eyed doll. You will wear my diamonds, Jess.’
She moved the palm of her hand so that it lay on her breastbone, like someone who had grown suddenly short of breath, but the movement only drew attention to the little pulse which was hammering at the base of her throat.
‘So was...’ she seemed to pick her words carefully ‘...was the fact that you bought Lulu just a coincidence?’
‘In what way?’
She opened her lips slowly, like someone afraid of setting off a verbal landmine.
‘You didn’t just buy Lulu because I was working there?’
He gave a soft laugh. ‘What do you think?’
‘I’m not...I’m not sure.’
But Loukas knew she was lying. Would the Lulu takeover have been quite so enticing if she hadn’t been involved? Of course not. Plenty of business opportunities came his way and his emotions were never involved. But this was different and it was because of Jess. He felt the sudden hardening of his groin. Because didn’t her involvement guarantee the kind of satisfaction which went way beyond mere profit and loss?
‘I heard the company was struggling because the management had become lazy, and I realised that I could turn it around. Take a famous brand and bring it bang up to date and you can’t fail.’ He smiled. ‘And you know what they say...buy weak, sell strong.’
She was looking at him in faint surprise, as if she hadn’t expected the slick soundbites of the professional negotiator to come from his lips. He felt the flicker of anger. Because deep down she still thinks of you as a thug. A wall of muscle, without a life of your own or a brain you might be capable of using.
‘But of course your connection to the company made the prospect irresistible,’ he said softly. ‘Because I wanted to see you again.’
To see whether his desire for her had diminished. Whether the sight of her cool face would leave him cold. He glanced at her untouched plate and his gaze moved upwards. He saw the way the candlelight flickered over her neat breasts and suddenly he was overcome by a wave of lust so powerful that if he had been standing up, it might have knocked him off his feet. Because surprise, surprise, he thought bitterly, it hadn’t left him—his desire hadn’t left him at all. If anything, it had only increased—as if the years in between had only sharpened his sensual hunger. Right now it was consuming him like a newly lit fire and when he looked at those cool, parted lips he wanted to lean across the table and crush them beneath his. To slide his hand beneath her dull little dress. To move his fingers against her heated flesh. To bring her to a disbelieving orgasm and then have her suck him sweetly to his own.
His mouth hardened.
So what was he planning to do about it?
‘You’re not eating, Jess,’ he said and he could hear how husky his voice sounded. He wondered if she was aware how heavy his groin felt, hidden by the snowy drapery of the tablecloth.
‘Neither are you.’ She pushed her plate away and nodded her head, as if she’d come to some kind of decision. ‘And I’m not surprised. This meal was a bad idea. Just because we’re going to work together doesn’t mean we have to eat together. I’m going back to my room. I’ll order something from Room Service.’
‘I’ll get the check and come with you.’
‘No, honestly. You don’t have to.’ She licked her lips and gave a forced kind of smile. ‘In fact, I’d much rather you didn’t.’
‘I insist.’
His silky determination silenced her and Jessica watched as he summoned the waiter and signed the check. She wondered if he cared how their behaviour must look to other people. Did the waiter consider it odd? Two people barely touching the amazing food or spectacular wine which had been placed before them. Two people sitting opposite one another, their bodies stiff and tense, looking as if they were engaged in some silent battle when in reality they were trying to ignore the sexual hunger still burning between them. She was aware of people watching as they weaved their way through the tables. The velvet-lined doors swung softly closed behind them, blotting out the faint chatter and low strains of music—and Jessica psyched herself up to say a dignified goodnight.
‘Thanks, Loukas.’
‘There’s nothing to thank me for. I’ll see you to your room.’
‘But—’
He cut across her objection before she’d had a chance to voice it. ‘Again, I insist.’
What else would he try to insist on? she wondered desperately as the elevator doors slid together, shutting out the rest of the world.
She tried to drag her gaze away from the chiselled perfection of his face. The elevator felt claustrophobic. Worse than that—it felt dangerous. There was no giant desk or restaurant table between them now, only a limited space so that he felt much too close, yet much too far. She could practically feel the heat radiating from his powerful body and the air seemed full of the scent which was so uniquely Loukas. She closed her eyes and breathed it in. A hint of citrus cut with spice, and underpinned with a raw and potent masculinity which took her straight back to the past. It filled her lungs, reminding her of all the pleasure he’d brought her. Reminding her of his hard kisses and soft kisses and all the in-between kisses. Of how he used to thrust so deep inside her. The first time, when it had hurt. And the second time, when it had felt as if she’d gone to heaven.
Could he hear the increased breathing, no matter how hard she tried to control it? Probably. His sense of hearing was acute—just like all his other senses. It was one of the things which had made him such a good bodyguard, as well as being such an amazing lover.
And suddenly Jessica found herself resenting the fact that he hadn’t so much as touched her. He hadn’t even done what anyone else in his position would have done—given her a cool kiss on either cheek when she’d walked into his office. No matter what he was feeling inside, that would have been the civilised thing to do.
But Loukas wasn’t civilised, was he? Beneath the exquisite suit and unmistakable veneer of wealth, he was still the same man he’d always been. Basic and primeval and oozing testosterone. But he wasn’t acting on it. He wasn’t acting out her vivid fantasy of playing the primitive male and pinning her up against the wall and just taking her, as he’d done so often in the past.
Did he guess what she was feeling—or wanting? Was that why he was looking at her with that infuriating half-smile on his lips, which was completely at odds with the hunger which had begun to spark like dark fire in the depths of that burning gaze?
She found herself praying they would reach her floor soon, yet part of her never wanted to get there. She wanted to stay here, trapped in this small moving box with him—just the two of them—until one of them cracked.
Did she give herself away?
Was there some small movement which indicated the struggle she was having with herself? She wondered if she’d wriggled slightly or whether something about her posture had indicated that her breath felt as if it were trapped in the upper part of her throat.
‘Oh,’ he said slowly, his words suddenly shattering the fraught silence, as if she had just said something which required an answer. ‘It’s like that, is it?’
And he reached out to cup her chin with his hand, drawing his thumb almost lazily over lips which had begun to tremble uncontrollably. The mere touch of him was electrifying, the effect of it so profound that her head jerked, like a puppet on a string. Jessica’s heart began to pound as he slipped the thumb inside her mouth and she couldn’t seem to stop him from doing it, even if she’d wanted to. Pavlov’s dog, she thought helplessly, aware that he was watching her, still with that infuriating half-smile on his face.
Her eyes had fluttered to a close as her lips closed round the thumb, and she wondered if that was to avoid the mockery in his eyes or because it meant she could pretend. Pretend that this was a normal interaction between a man and a woman, instead of one tainted with bitterness and regret. She felt him move the thumb very slightly—in and out, in and out—demonstrating a provocative mimicry of sex. Kiss me, she prayed silently as she sucked. Take some of this aching away and just kiss me.
‘Open your eyes, Jess.’
Reluctantly, her lashes fluttered open and she found herself meeting the hardness of his piercing black gaze.
‘Do you want me to kiss you?’ he questioned softly as he withdrew the thumb so slowly that she almost groaned.
Had he read her mind, or had she said the words out loud without realising? Reluctantly, she nodded her head in silent acquiescence.
‘Then ask me. Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it.’
The corresponding rush of resentment gave her a last-minute reprieve and she glared at him. You don’t have to do this, she told herself. You don’t have to do what he says. ‘Don’t play games with me, Loukas.’
‘I thought games were your speciality.’
‘Go to hell.’
And then he did kiss her, laughing a little as he pulled her against him—his hard body driving every objection clean from her mind. All she could think about was how strong he was, and how good it felt to be back in his arms. Within the circle of his powerful embrace she felt warm, like an ice cube which had started to melt. She felt safe. But that didn’t last long... And maybe that was the wrong description, because how could she possibly feel safe when his hands were sliding down over her breasts like that and making her moan with pleasure? It felt the opposite of safe when her nipples were thrusting against her dress and aching for him to bare them.
The lift pinged to a halt and Jessica felt the punch of frustration as Loukas dragged his mouth away from hers. His gaze was smoky, his expression suggesting he’d been as blown away by that kiss as she had. But his look of sensual surrender quickly cleared and was replaced by a cold-eyed assessment. For a minute she thought he was about to hit the button to send them back down the way they’d come—as if their evening would be spent riding an elevator which represented a private and no-threat world where none of the normal rules applied.
But she was wrong. He kept his finger firmly on the doors open button as his black gaze sizzled over her.
‘So,’ he said.
‘So,’ she repeated, more to gain time than anything else.
‘Aren’t you going to invite me inside?’ he questioned.
Every fibre of her being was screaming at her to say yes. To open the door and do what she wanted to do more than she could remember wanting anything. She knew exactly what would happen. The look on his face told her that it would be quick. He would rip at her clothing. Push aside the damp panel of her panties with impatient fingers. She could almost hear the rasp of his zip as she pictured him freeing himself. Her fingers were itching to reacquaint themselves with that silken, steely shaft—to rub it up and down until he began to groan...
Blood rushed through her veins as she thought of that first intimate touch just before he entered her—the moist tip of him pressing against her—and she could have wept with longing and frustration. Would he be able to tell that there had been no lover since him? That he had been the one and only man she’d ever been intimate with? Would he laugh in disbelief if he knew, or would it simply make him gloat with insufferable pride? That he was still able to make her—the cool and contained Jessica Cartwright—into someone she barely recognised.
He had offered her the job and was now making it very clear that he wanted her. For a man with Loukas’s reasoning, one would automatically follow the other. Payback time. And would that be such a terrible thing? If she had sex with him again it might make her look at things more rationally. Reassure herself that she’d built him up in her mind because she’d been young and impressionable. And this was a modern world, wasn’t it? She should be able to sleep with whom she pleased.
She opened her mouth to say yes, but something stopped her—and that something was the look in his eyes. Was that triumph she could read there?
Some of the heat left her blood. She thought about how she’d feel in the morning if she woke up and found him beside her. Would she be able to deal with the aftermath of such a rash act? She doubted it. Because intimacy terrified her. It brought with it hurt, and pain. And surely only a fool would do something in the knowledge that it was going to bring them pain.
She shook her head. ‘No, Loukas,’ she said. ‘I’m not.’
He bent his head forward, as if he didn’t believe her, as if he could change her mind by shortening the physical distance between them. His breath was warm against her face.
‘Are you sure?’ he whispered.
It took every bit of will power she possessed to step back and shake her head, but will power was something she was good at. It was will power which had made her stand outside in all weathers, smashing ball after ball over the net while her father shouted at her. Will power which had dragged her out of bed on those cold winter mornings while the rest of her schoolfriends had snuggled beneath the duvet while their mothers made toast.
‘Quite sure,’ she answered. ‘I’m going to bed. Alone. Goodnight.’
The faint flare of surprise she saw in his eyes gave her no real pleasure. It didn’t cancel out the ache in her body or the yearning in her heart. Stepping inside her suite, she shut the door on his hard and beautiful face and resisted the desire to smash her fist against the wall.
