His team was there. He introduced her to his PAs, one male, one female, but fortunately not married to each another, otherwise their schedules would have kept them permanently apart when they were required to work around the clock, taking shifts. He also had a financier and accountant, and a strategic planner.
What shocked her was that he gave her a seat at the table, next to him.
Scarlett was way out of her depth, but she listened and learned. Especially from her fiancé, whose mastery of the whole picture impressed her despite her determination not to let it. And he wasn’t showing off for her benefit. His staff behaved as if they were accustomed to his control. Which they undoubtedly were. Ethan seemed tireless and invincible.
How could she ever have thought he was an ordinary salesman? Here he was in total command, without breaking a sweat. His staff was highly qualified, competent in the extreme. And yet Ethan towered over them all.
Scarlett did her best not to be intimidated. The strategic planner asked her a question, and when she answered that she was here to learn, gave her a smile and told her she was there to help whenever Scarlett needed it. “We were all where you are once,” she told Scarlett, after Ethan had excused himself to visit the bathroom. “He might be marrying you, but you don’t get asked to sit at this table unless you can do the job.”
Evidently all these people were Ethan’s, not the board’s, trusted staff who knew all his secrets. And now she’d signed the prenup and the nondisclosure agreement, she was part of his team. She was relieved to discover that the NDA didn’t contain promises not to discuss his behavior, or any more personal aspect of their future life together. Only a promise not to disclose any business information she would inevitably learn.
When he’d returned, he took the time to explain his plans for the Woodward, mostly for her benefit. “I want to create a new kind of hotel. I want to hire it out to anyone who needs extra privacy or security; companies who want to hold ultra-private conferences and planning sessions, bridal parties, especially high status, game companies wanting to test new products safely, even royalty on a shopping expedition. We offer guaranteed secure and restricted internet connections—at a price. The hotel will have built-in security shields, rechecked after every visit. And it will be beautiful because the clientele I want will expect it. Secure houses exist, but not like these, and none are as thorough as I make them.”
That was a great idea. She wished she’d thought about it for herself. “Do you have any potential customers already?”
“Oh, yes,” he answered readily. “Including a British prince who is expecting to marry soon. He wants it for the bridal party, since his choice of bride is controversial.”
“It’s brilliant,” she said frankly, awed by the idea. She saw what he meant at once. Paranoia was on the rise, especially in the highest echelons, and not without reason. “But won’t it cost a huge amount of money?”
He grinned. “The people who have already contacted me will gladly pay for the privacy. We have several levels of security. At its highest level, when security is a priority, the people who come to the hotel will have to leave their own tech behind. We’ll secure it for them in a bank vault if they wish, but not on the premises. We provide phones, computers, TVs, and everything else they need. That equipment is unbranded, and is built for us by a company I trust.”
“Good grief! Will the guests do that?”
“If they want to stay with us, sure. We won’t need that level of security all the time, but every time a group leaves, the hotel is swept for security issues. Sometimes it’s just a matter of keeping the guests secure, providing bodyguards and the like. That’s pretty straightforward.”
She had no words. They were turning her home into a high security unit? “That’s what you’re doing now?”
He nodded again. “The rewiring requirement at the Woodward is a godsend, because it’s a cover for all the other work. When we get back to London we’ll find a house with bare, freshly prepared walls. Behind them will be the most sophisticated electronics available.”
“And you don’t want anyone to know what you’re planning.”
He gave her a quick kiss. “I knew there was a reason I fell for you.”
He was saying that for the others. There was a lot to like about Ethan Black. But she had to be careful not to let like cross the line into love. Because he would never love her, nor any other woman. At his heart was a block of ice. Perhaps she could try to cultivate one of her own.
But if he continued to show her affection, to look at her with dark intensity, she’d find that line impossible to resist. Stepping over it might be the worst thing she’d ever done, but it came closer every day.
When they arrived in New York, a limo was waiting to whisk them off. After a cursory check of their passports, they were on their way. “Are you tired?” he asked her.
“After being pampered for seven hours?” She’d watched a movie that had opened in the cinemas last week, one she’d casually mentioned to Ethan that she wanted to see. She’d eaten the kind of food people queued up outside restaurants for, and sprawled on cream leather sofas, instead of being crammed into an upright chair with a seat belt biting into her stomach and a stuttering six inch seat-back screen to keep her docile.
He laughed. “Jet lag will probably hit later, but you did catch a nap. Let’s go shopping after lunch.”
While he took the extra five hours’ time difference in his stride, she didn’t know if she could keep up. She felt as if she’d left her brain halfway across the Atlantic. But now she knew why he’d persuaded her to shower and change before they landed. Because here, people recognized him.
As they stepped out of the limo to make the brief trip across the pavement—sidewalk—to the restaurant, several passersby turned as the paparazzi snapped, and they took pictures too.
Over salmon salad and fresh rolls, she asked him, “Is this one of your publicity stunts?”
“What?” In deference to her possible pregnancy, he’d ordered sparkling water to accompany their meal. He raised his glass to her.
“Taking me to lunch and then shopping.”
A smile tilted the corner of his mouth. “No. But this is my playground.” Reaching out, he briefly covered her hand, lending her his warmth. “The last woman I dated here was a media hound. Her people contacted all the paps when we so much as went out for coffee. She trained them into it, I guess, so now I’m on the circuit of people they cover. It will pass. It’s not normal for businessmen to be followed like this, but Willow is a model.”
Thinking of her tall, slender and elegant predecessor, Scarlett grimaced. “I’m going to disappoint them, then.”
“You don’t disappoint me. And you have your own style. Don’t put yourself down, sweetheart. You’re every bit as beautiful as Willow.”
He said the endearment so naturally, it was as if he’d been saying it for months, instead of three days. “And yet agencies aren’t lining up to pay me a fortune to advertise their lingerie.”
“If they’d seen what I have, they would.” His voice was low, intimate, and she shuddered. “Don’t do that. Believe me, Scarlett, I know what I’d rather be doing. And I thought of it. When I kissed you in the Noir I wanted to carry on. If I’d followed my instincts I’d have taken you back to my apartment and fed you there. In bed.”
And not just with food. She didn’t have to hear that to know what he meant. She’d felt it too. The truce between them was at an end, that was clear. They wouldn’t be celibate for much longer.
After the meal, he took her hand and led her back to the car. Once in the relative privacy of the dark blue Lexus, he took his face in her hands and kissed her. He gave her no mercy, but she wanted none, responding as eagerly as she had their first night in the Woodward. She should hold him off, remind him of their business arrangement, but she couldn’t do it anymore. He’d steamrollered past any resistance she had left and now all she could think of was having him any way she could.
&
nbsp; Reaching up, she tunneled her hands into his thick, dark hair, the strands threading between her fingers. He pulled her close, lifted her on to his lap, and then drew slightly away from her mouth. “This doesn’t get you out of shopping.” A wicked gleam lit his eyes. “But it does make this expedition a hell of a lot shorter.”
Lifting her gently away, he tapped the privacy screen and ordered the driver to take them to a place she didn’t know. Then he smoothed his hair back, and caught her hand again. “You need clothes to please the media and my parents. I could have them delivered, but I want these to be perfect.”
“Oh,” she said doubtfully, wondering what he meant.
As it happened, she found out quickly. He took her to a designer boutique, where she riffled through the sparse garments on display, and then gave him a despairing shake of her head. “These won’t fit. I’d be lucky to get a leg into any dress here.” She didn’t like the snooty assistants, either.
“I know just the place.”
He made a quick call and took her to the workshop of a designer she’d drooled over when she’d seen the designs online. Natalie Consett was hot, her designs appearing in every magazine, on every runway. This designer was new school, making clothes for women of all sizes. Scarlett wasn’t big and beautiful, but she wasn’t skinny either. She was a boring in-between. However, the designer, who seemed to know Ethan well, put her hands on Scarlett’s shoulders and smiled warmly. “At last, you’ve brought me a real woman,” she declared, and set out to prove it.
Natalie was brisk but friendly. A tall woman with the figure of a runway model and sleek black hair that seemed stuck to her skull, she wasn’t classically beautiful, but instead of trying to mask her long nose and narrow face, she emphasized them. Nobody would mistake her for anyone else. She had her own style, a way of presenting herself that Scarlett could never emulate.
She despaired. “I guess I’ll get by making myself unobtrusive.”
Natalie snorted. “Nonsense! With that hair and those big gray eyes, you’d stand out anywhere. We’ll make you memorable.”
Stripped to her underwear, Scarlett stood in the center of the room facing a tall mirror as Natalie, and occasionally two assistants who came and went, bearing more samples, draped over her. Someone else wheeled in a rack of ready-made clothes. Natalie took so many measurements that Scarlett didn’t think there was anywhere left to measure. Even front to back on her crotch.
“I’m not a doll,” she protested.
“Stand still,” Natalie snapped.
She glanced at Ethan, who was sitting at a comfortable chair, busy on his phone. “I’m not a thing.”
He looked up, a smile curving his lips. “Oh, I know that. I’ve already had this kind of treatment. My tailors know more about my body than I do. Now it’s your turn. I don’t want you wearing off-the-rack clothes for the charity event. Or even couture clothes off the runway, altered to fit you.” He addressed Natalie. “Can you get something special ready for this weekend?”
The designer snorted, which was quite an achievement with a mouth full of pins. “If we keep it simple, maybe. Nothing with elaborate embroidery or bead work.”
“Fine.” Ethan didn’t sound pleased, but against the might of Natalie and her assistants, he accepted the stricture.
“I’ll make a toile from the measurements later. Then you can call me and order your clothes, instead of all this pinning and cutting,” Natalie said, going down on her knees. With a white pencil, she marked the hem.
“She needs shoes, purses, jewelry,” the designer said. “Lingerie too.”
Although Scarlett was the length of a room away from where Ethan sprawled carelessly in the chair, a cup of espresso by his side, she didn’t miss the flash of heat in his eyes at the last item on the designer’s list. She looked away before she could return it. Her whole body heated, and at the top of her legs, she detected distinct dampness. Worse, she was wearing a silk evening number, the fabric so fine it was almost transparent. The gown barely covered her. “I feel uncomfortable in this one,” she said. “I prefer a hint rather than putting everything I have on display.”
“You’re right,” Natalie said, stepping back to cast a critical eye over her. “That line doesn’t suit you in any case. Let’s try something else.”
“What are you planning for the weekend?” Natalie asked Ethan.
“The McCoy Gala.” Scarlett’s mouth went dry at his careless response. Even she’d heard of the gala, one of the big events on the social calendar. Something where she would become a thing, his accessory. That was why he wanted her to have a gown for the weekend. Scarlett felt helpless. This was part of the deal she’d signed. She’d have to suck it up. But she would at least have a say on her appearance.
“How about something like this?” Natalie said. From one of the many racks of clothes surrounding them she produced a garment Scarlett drooled over. “This dark green isn’t your color. I’m thinking a rich blue, or even bright pink. Not many people can carry it off, but you can.”
She chose the blue.
“Are we done here?” Ethan said. “Where can we get the other stuff fast?”
Visibly pleased, the designer turned back to them. “I can have a few things sent to you. Just so Scarlett doesn’t have to go around naked and barefoot.” She glanced from Ethan to Scarlett. “The air is burning up between you, and I prefer my air conditioning much colder.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go. And knock Willow Sarton’s eye out when you go to your function.”
Scarlett doubted she could do that. When Ethan touched her, slipping his arm to touch the small of her back and guide her to the exit, arousal flashed though her as if he’d commanded it.
As he took her to the limo purring expensively outside he bent so only she could hear. “I want you too badly to wait much longer. Are you hungry?”
“Only for you,” she said before she could censor her words.
“Home,” he snapped to his driver.
All the way to his apartment Ethan sat on the other side of the long bench seat to Scarlett, the armrest pulled firmly down. Resting his chin on his hand he stared out the window, even though a few discreet pings came from the phone in his pocket.
Scarlett knew exactly how he felt. Images from the weekend they spent naked in bed came back to her, but it seemed so long ago. So much had happened since then. She wasn’t sure she’d forgiven him for spying on her, and then turning up in force to her hotel the day the contracts were signed. She certainly hadn’t recovered from the shock.
But she wanted him so badly she thought of stripping off her clothes and jumping on him, even though he’d left the privacy partition open. She stared at the back of the driver’s head, then copied Ethan and stared out of the window nearest to her.
Even in her current stage of extreme arousal, the sight of New York caught her interest. She recognized several designer names as they turned on to the top end of Fifth Avenue, and then the big department stores, and the smaller, less well-favored shops before they hit Times Square. Of course she’d seen pictures of the place, but like Piccadilly Circus in the rush hour, it had to be experienced in person in order to understand the frantic activity properly.
People scurried everywhere, some with a purpose, others strolling, staring about them and nearly stepping into the paths of the taxis, cars, and buses that drove through. New York was built on a grid system, but the surrounding confusion was anything but orderly. She watched, fascinated.
“We’ll go to a show one night,” Ethan murmured. “You can choose which one.”
“There’s one I really wanted to see.” Eagerly she turned to him. “But you can’t get tickets for it. It’s booked until the middle of next year.”
“I know the one. I saw it on opening night. It’s very good and you deserve to go. Don’t worry, I can get us a couple of tickets.”
He could do anything, it seemed. Perform miracles.
“The power of billions,” she commented, going
back to stare out of the window.
He didn’t answer and she was being petty. He had maintained the family’s empire, and he had fought every inch of the way to keep it intact. She wasn’t being fair. She turned, and met the full power of his blue glare. Her mouth dropped open, her original intention of apologizing fading into nothing.
With a soft groan he reached for her, dragging her across the soft leather seat until she was pressed against his chest. His mouth came down on hers, and she was lost.
The power of what this man could do to her shocked Scarlett. Every single time they touched, or even came close to each other, the tingling arousal began at the heart of her, spreading to encompass her whole body. It infuriated her. How on earth could she manage to spend more time with him? He fascinated her, and every time they came together it was under his control.
And she could do nothing to stop it. Every resolve she made melted under his touch. He tunneled his way under her top, stroking her skin before moving up to her breast. Scarlett only moved aside to make the task easier for him.
Spreading her palms over his chest, she rubbed the thin cotton of his shirt over his muscles, desperate to reacquaint herself with him. Her instincts screamed “danger!” But she didn’t care. For once in her life, Scarlett wanted to take a chance, to plunge into a situation with no end in sight and no definite plan. She hardly knew herself.
Ethan banded his arms around her and dragged her on to his lap. He murmured her name against her lips and changed his kiss, delving deeper. Tilting her head back, Scarlett opened her mouth to accept his exploring tongue, and returned it, sucking softly on it, and giving him her own in response. Licking into the fiery heat of his mouth, she moaned as he cupped her breast and massaged it through the lace of her bra.
She squirmed on his lap, trying to get closer, to find bare flesh she could touch. The electric charge beckoned temptingly. She wanted it again and again. Grinding against him brought her some relief, but then only served to push her arousal into needy territory. He shoved back against her, one hand on her backside to hold her close, to force her on to his bulging erection. Not that force was necessary. She was doing it anyway.
Captive Hearts (Hearts on Fire Book 2) Page 12