Eveline raised her head slowly and looked at him, her expression incredulous. A suspicious frown marred her brow in the next instant.
“No. Why are you asking?” she said warily.
“If you don’t mind waiting, I can rustle up something quick,” Lincoln said, masking his own surprise behind a light tone.
That he’d even suggested making dinner for Eveline took him aback. He was a private person and was always been particular about who he invited in his personal space.
Lincoln realized then that he didn’t want Eveline to leave.
Eveline arched an eyebrow at him in response. Taking that as a yes, Lincoln strolled into the kitchen and headed over to the large, silver larder fridge.
Footsteps rose behind him as Eveline slowly followed. She settled in one of the counter chairs at the island dominating the floorspace while he eyed the well-stocked shelves of the fridge. Barnaby had hired a catering company for Lincoln’s stay in Tokyo and there was enough food in the penthouse to feed an army.
“You like steak?” Lincoln paused and looked over his shoulder with a grimace. “Or are you one of those women who’s stupidly strict about what they eat?”
“This body is no temple,” Eveline said haughtily. “I like all kinds of meat.”
Lincoln raised his eyebrows at the innuendo. Eveline took a sip of her Scotch before giving him a sexy, filthy smile. He chuckled and removed a marinated platter of steak and ingredients for a salad before setting them on the counter.
“Is that Kobe beef?” Eveline asked in an awed voice.
Lincoln grinned at her as he undid the plastic wrap. “It is. How do you like your steak?”
“Medium rare,” Eveline murmured, her gaze glued to the thick slabs of meat on the plate.
Lincoln placed a large griddle pan on the ultra-modern cooking range and set it to preheat. He rolled up his sleeves, tugged his tie off, and hooked an apron over his neck.
A shutter click sounded from the direction of the island.
Lincoln looked around into Eveline’s devilish grin. She had her cell phone camera aimed at him.
“What, you’ve never seen a man in an apron before?” he said testily.
Eveline chuckled. “Oh, I have. This is just blackmail fodder.”
Lincoln shook his head, amused despite himself at her flagrant brazenness. He seasoned the steaks and placed them in the griddle pan before quickly preparing the salad, conscious of Eveline’s curious stare.
“Why don’t you pick a wine?” he murmured, indicating the glass facade of the wine cellar built inside the south wall of the kitchen.
Eveline downed her Scotch, slipped off the chair, and strolled over to the walk-in storeroom. She inspected the gallery of bottles for a moment before leaning down at the waist to select one from the lowest shelf.
Lincoln swallowed a groan at the tantalizing vision of Eveline bent over in her red stilettos, her pert ass stretching her tight, pinstriped skirt in all the right places, and the back of her long, mouthwatering thighs exposed. He caught a glimpse of her lacy, black garter belt and felt his cock throb.
At this rate, he was going to have a permanent hard-on during dinner.
Oblivious to the growing ache in Lincoln’s groin, Eveline returned with a Red Bordeaux and two wine glasses. He handed her a corkscrew he found in a drawer and saw her smile faintly when she glanced at the brand new, gleaming, electric wine opener standing forlornly on a granite worktop.
“Have you used it even once?” Eveline said, opening the bottle with an expert twist of the corkscrew.
The rich aroma of the wine reached Lincoln’s nostrils above the tantalizing smell of the grilling meat.
“Nope,” he grunted.
Lincoln slipped the steaks onto a wooden board when they were done, removed plates and cutlery from a sliding drawer, and took everything over to a dining table overlooking the rooftop garden and the colorful city beyond. Eveline followed leisurely in his steps and took the seat opposite him while he served the salad.
He sat down and accepted the glass of wine she offered him while they waited for the meat to cool. She leaned back in her chair and took a slow sip of the scarlet liquid.
“This is nice,” she murmured, studying him with a steady expression.
Lincoln relaxed in the chair. He didn’t think he’d mistaken the glint of interest in Eveline’s eyes that morning. Even if he had, there was no mistaking what he could read in them right now.
The air thickened with sexual tension as Eveline held his stare. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. She licked her lips unconsciously.
Fire shot through Lincoln’s dick at the sight of her pink, wet tongue. He bit back a growl of desire and forced a faint smile on his face.
“Shall I?”
CHAPTER 6
YES, God, please climb over this table and kiss me now!
Eveline bit her lip to stop the shameless words from leaving her mouth. Heat warmed her cheeks when she realized Lincoln was indicating the steaks, his amused expression telling her he knew exactly what she’d been thinking a second ago.
“Please do,” she said in as regal a tone as she could muster.
Eveline was surprised at how easily the conversation flowed between them as they ate and drank over the next couple of hours. They talked about New York, where they’d both started their companies, and the ways in which they’d grown their respective businesses over the last decade. They discovered they had several acquaintances and interests in common and had even invested in the same portfolios on the stock market. Lincoln told Eveline about his sister Julia and his nephew, his affection for the little boy evident in his softening eyes and voice.
She noted he never spoke about his father or mother, even after he asked her about her own family.
“I never knew my dad,” Eveline said casually. “He walked out on us when I was one. As for my mom, I haven’t spoken to her in eighteen years.” She looked up into Lincoln’s questioning stare and smiled faintly. “She chose to side with my stepdad when I told her he tried to rape me.”
Lincoln stiffened in his chair, his pupils dilating with shock and anger.
“Did you report him to the cops?” he said harshly.
“I couldn’t,” Eveline said with a shrug. “He’d already gone to the station by the time I thought about it.”
A puzzled frown darkened Lincoln’s face. “What do you mean?”
“I beat him up,” Eveline said blithely. “Pretty badly.”
Even now, the memory of what happened all those years ago burned brightly in Eveline’s mind. She’d seen the creepy looks her stepfather had been giving her ever since she turned fifteen and blossomed almost overnight, her awkward, gangly teenage figure maturing into that of a woman.
She was eighteen the day he walked into her bedroom and pinned her to the mattress while her mother worked the late shift at the local 7-Eleven. That night, Eveline discovered a side of herself she didn’t even know existed.
As her stepfather yanked her nightshirt up her thighs and shoved his hand inside her panties, his arm pressed against her throat and choking her, terror had frozen Eveline for a timeless moment. She’d stared up at the man she’d lived with for thirteen years through a haze of tears and seen a stranger. A stranger who was going to violate her and find a way to hide his despicable act. A stranger who didn’t give a damn that he was going to leave her with an emotional scar that could take a lifetime to heal.
It was when he’d relaxed the arm across her throat briefly to grope her breasts that Eveline saw her opportunity to escape. She’d kneed him in the balls and jumped out of the bed while he cried out and curled up into a fetal position. She was running for the door when she saw her hockey stick standing against the wall next to the window. The expression on her stepfather’s face when she stopped and snatched it up before turning around to face him was one Eveline would never forget.
It was only afterward that she’d realized she’d even used her fists during the r
ed haze of fury that had been those life-changing minutes. That was when Eveline grasped something fundamental about herself and the person she would become.
She was a survivor, through and through.
After her mother called her a whore for seducing her stepfather, Eveline did the only thing she could do. She packed a bag, stayed the night at a friend’s house, and left town the next morning with several hundred dollars she’d saved from her babysitting job.
“I took the Greyhound to New York and worked as a waitress for a year before a friend introduced me to an escort service,” Eveline said.
Lincoln watched her with an inscrutable expression.
“The incident with your stepdad didn’t put you off sex?” he said after a short silence.
Eveline narrowed her eyes.
“Just so we’re clear, I’ve never had sex for money,” she said coolly. “And no, it didn’t. I’ve always enjoyed the act and I saw no need for that bastard to ruin it for me.”
Eveline didn’t go into the details of how she’d relished pushing the boundaries of her sensuality when she started visiting New York’s sex clubs and dungeons. Like she’d told Lincoln, she’d never slept with anyone purely for money, even when her clients offered her eye watering sums for the privilege of fucking her.
Eveline knew what she liked in the bedroom and she only slept with men who could satisfy her own sexual desires. She became a professional dominatrix by accident, after a client for the escort service she was working for at the time begged her to tie him up and spank him. The money she earned in the years that followed bought her a college education and allowed her to invest in her own escort club at the age of twenty-five.
Within a year, Le Secret became known as the place for wealthy businessmen and movie stars to hang out at in New York. The fact that most of her escorts were well-educated, glamorous men and women who knew the etiquette for every social situation wasn’t an accident. The rigid, six-week long induction program Eveline had developed for her staff meant that by the time they hit the club floor, they knew how to dress, how to walk, how to make basic cocktails, what cutlery to use for an official dinner, and even what topics of conversation the club’s clients preferred.
As to sex between her escorts and the men and women who paid for their services, Eveline had made it a rule that whatever happened behind closed doors was a strictly private matter between two consenting adults and nothing to do with her business. It was a requirement of all her clubs that both escorts and clients signed a contract stating just that before they were even allowed through the doors.
“And here you are, eleven years later, the head of your very own business empire,” Lincoln said in an enigmatic voice.
Eveline gazed at him thoughtfully, unsure if he was being sardonic.
“So, you looked up my age,” she murmured.
Lincoln’s lips curved in a lopsided smile that brought out a pair of such heart-stoppingly cute dimples Eveline would have forgiven him anything then.
“Since you knew about my father, I can only presume you did the same,” he drawled in an amused voice.
Eveline paused with her wine glass halfway to her lips. She lowered it to the table.
“You didn’t like me mentioning his name earlier today,” she said carefully. “Is there bad blood between you?”
Lincoln’s smile faded and his face darkened with emotion. For a moment, Eveline thought he would ask her to get up and leave.
“You’re bold,” he said stiffly.
Eveline smiled faintly. “And you’re avoiding the question.”
Lincoln frowned between lifting his glass and staring at the crimson liquid. “Let’s just say the less I have to do with that man, the better.” He looked up at Eveline and hesitated. “I hear you have a number of prominent politicians among your clientele.”
“I do,” Eveline said noncommittally. “And no, he isn’t among them.”
Something like relief flashed in Lincoln’s eyes.
She grew pensive as she helped him clear the table and headed into the lounge with a second bottle of Bordeaux while he loaded the dishwasher.
There was more to Lincoln Hudson than met the eye. Despite the fact that he was her de facto enemy, Eveline couldn’t deny her burning desire to discover the man behind the ruthless public persona he projected to the world.
Lincoln joined her on the black leather couch a moment later and took the glass she offered him.
“To new friendships,” he murmured.
CHAPTER 7
EVELINE ARCHED an eyebrow before raising her own glass in a toast.
“Are we friends?” she said, folding her legs under herself as she made herself comfortable.
“I’d like to think we could be,” Lincoln said truthfully.
He was amazed at how relaxed he was in Eveline’s company. Although he should have been wary of her considering the circumstances of their first meeting, he couldn’t deny that the more he learned about her, the more he wanted to know. The fact that she had risen above the trauma of almost being raped by her stepfather and gone on to build such a successful career for herself in a fiercely competitive business that thrived on the most hedonistic aspects of human behavior was nothing short of astounding. Lincoln had known she was an astute business woman from the moment he’d met her and the report Barnaby had compiled for him earlier that day had only confirmed his gut feeling.
He now understood Eveline’s drive to succeed and conquer every obstacle that had ever stood in her path. She was a fighter inside and out.
Which meant he was up against a bigger challenge than he’d anticipated.
Silence descended between them as they gazed at each other. It was superseded by a slow, burning tension. The same electrifying sexual heat Lincoln had felt since the moment he’d met Eveline.
Eveline’s gaze grew hooded. “So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?”
A burst of laughter escaped Lincoln despite his growing erection.
“I like that about you,” he chuckled before taking a sip of his wine.
Eveline arched her eyebrow at him, her lips curving into a lopsided smile. “What, my sassy mouth?”
Lincoln’s gaze dropped to Eveline’s full lips. “Yes. That and the fact that you’re not afraid to speak your mind.”
A hint of color bloomed on Eveline’s cheekbones under Lincoln’s stare.
“It’s a habit that has landed me in hot water on many an occasion,” she admitted ruefully.
“You don’t say,” Lincoln drawled. He knew he was responsible for the flush of awareness on Eveline’s face. The fact that he was affecting her just as badly as she was him thrilled him to the core.
Eveline narrowed her eyes. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”
Lincoln grinned. He was also fast discovering that teasing Eveline was fun.
“I’m laughing with you,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “There’s a difference.” He reached over, took Eveline’s wine from her, and placed their glasses on the coffee table.
Eveline gave him puzzled look. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I have a counter offer to make and I’m afraid you might throw your wine at me after you hear it,” Lincoln said steadily.
An unusual bout of nervousness darted through him as he watched Eveline tense. It surprised Lincoln, just as so many things had tonight.
He was a man who was supremely confident in his own skin and how he managed his daily affairs. Yet, this woman had managed to faze him in more ways than anyone had ever done in the short time they’d known each other.
He wondered then whether he had finally met his match in Eveline Claude. That thought sobered him.
Lines marred Eveline’s brow. “What do you mean a counter offer?”
“I’m in Tokyo for a month,” Lincoln said calmly. “I want you to be my escort for the duration of my time here.”
Eveline’s eyes flared in shock. She blinked slowly.
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?!” she blurted, disbelief raising her voice to a high-pitched squeak.
Lincoln kept his expression neutral as he gazed at her. “I want you to be my escort while I’m in Tokyo,” he repeated in a casual voice. “I’ll pay for your services, obviously. I want to see exactly what Le Secret is about before I make a decision whether to lease the plot to you.”
EVELINE’S HEART thudded wildly against her ribs as she gaped at Lincoln.
Did he just say that? He did, didn’t he?
Her mind raced as she struggled to come up with a suitable comeback to Lincoln’s bold proposition. Her first instinct had been to throw her wine in his face. That he had anticipated she would do just that and taken the glass from her made her even more angry with the damn man.
Yet, despite the fury burning through her, Eveline couldn’t deny one fact. The words “Lincoln Hudson” and “escort” in combination were making her all kinds of hot.
She cursed her treacherous body and pinched her lips.
“You mean you want to buy me for a month? Like I said before, I’m not a whore,” she snapped.
Lincoln draped one arm lazily along the back of the couch. “Trust me, I won’t be paying you for sex, Eveline.”
Something that felt suspiciously like disappointment flashed through Eveline then. No. No, I don’t feel let down by that. That would be insane!
Lincoln’s next sentence doused any misconception she had about his intentions.
“I’m pretty confident you’ll be begging me to fuck you instead,” he stated blithely.
Eveline drew a breath in sharply, shocked at the sheer arrogance of the man opposite her. She moved then, her body shifting of its own volition. She knelt on the couch, grabbed the ends of Lincoln’s shirt collar, and yanked him toward her.
“Oh yeah? You sure you can satisfy me, Mr. Dickhead Asshole Hudson?” Eveline hissed.
She immediately regretted her action when Lincoln raised his hands and cradled her elbows in his palms.
Undisclosed: Nights Series Book 7 Page 4