The Decision (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Allyson Young

  “I want to fuck you.” No point in beating around the bush.

  Her gasp echoed in the small room, not absorbed at all by the hundreds of magazines and piles of paper Reginald stored in his office. “What?”

  “I doubt you’re hard of hearing.” Dace felt a flicker of surprise himself at his bluntness.

  “You’re insane.” Cheeks now flushed with hectic color, although her whole face initially paled, the blood draining from it, Stephanie’s eyes were stark and staring. “Insane. And a pig.”

  “I found your sister sexually attractive and compatible. She met my requirements in bed. I don’t doubt you’ll be the same, if not with the same inspired effort. Unless you, too, want a piece of my wealth? You won’t have to work so hard for it. I’ll pay your rent and give you an allowance, and you’ll service me until you locate Sophie. It should inspire you to rid yourself of a pig quickly as possible.” A twinge of guilt assailed him at the look of horror Stephanie sent his way. She might actually be cut from a different cloth than her sister, but his thirst for revenge burst forth and subjugated all his other, finer emotions, spurred on by her porcine reference. Dace also told himself he might be doing Reg a favor by checking little Stephanie Price out. Art history degree. Maybe. He needed to keep his eye on the prize.

  And speaking of prizes, Stephanie’s splendid breasts were heaving with her shock and fury. He noted how the fabric of her gown draped over them, the nipples pointed and clearly visible.

  “Asshole. Not in your dreams.”

  So, his little sophisticated gallery manager could be pushed. Her language would be corrected of course. Dace decided to push her harder and advanced. She shrank bank and retreated until she came up against the wall. He planted a hand on either side of her face, boxing her in with his much larger body, and locked eyes with her. Stephanie’s were spitting with outrage, that golden hue splintering with hits of black fury, and her mouth trembled on words he figured he definitely didn’t want to hear. So he leaned in to kiss her and seal them inside. His lips caught her ire with perfect timing, his tongue surging deep within the moist cavern of her mouth to conquer her defiance. The chemistry flared between them, and she shivered and pressed against him, her body moulding to his, a perfect fit. Her lips softened, and she sighed her acceptance. Dace deepened the kiss and pulled her closer. He felt the moment she recognized what she’d inferred.

  Stephanie went limp and took him off guard. She slid down the wall and popped out from under his left arm, eluding him with the grace of a cat, spinning to make her escape. Dace caught her up, right off of her stilettos, imprisoning her in his arms. Her eyes were wide, filled with fear. He could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, heard her breath coming in pants and wheezy inhalations. He set her down and fixed her with a stare. Stephanie trembled before it, and Dace tried to feel exultation. He felt, instead, shame, and it made him angrier. He ruthlessly stomped on the unwelcome emotion. She would help him find Sophie, and if he whiled away the time with seduction, well, he deserved the benefits. And, despite her attempt at escape, he knew Stephanie was not immune to him. Dace recognized the signs of female attraction and intended to capitalize on them. Her beaded nipples, the spark in her eyes behind the fear, her trembling mouth, all spoke to that chemistry. He wouldn’t hurt her, except in good ways, but he would have her. Her outrage and his need for vengeance would keep their affair physical, and how long it lasted depended upon her finding her sister. Unless he tired of her first.

  “I’ll send a car for you tomorrow evening at seven. You’ll need to be dressed for dinner. You won’t require anything else. My driver will return you afterward.” He knew from the way she stiffened Stephanie figured out what he expected would transpire after dinner. The afterward.

  “I’ll work out a schedule and the details of our contract. I wouldn’t want you to be out of pocket.” Dace added, relishing how powerless she must feel. It served to keep him from feeling anything other than lust for her, a means to an end. He might want to fuck her and do other wonderful, erotic things to her, but he wouldn’t have her sleep in his home. Stephanie could work the gallery during the day and be at his beck and call in the evenings and on the weekends. But she would never stay overnight. Dace wondered at the boundary even as he etched it. His cock applauded vigorously, and this time he listened to it.

  Stephanie gave no verbal indication she heard him or agreed to his terms, but her eyes reflected a glum acceptance. Dace thought he might kiss her and change that look, then decided against it. Instead he drew a finger down her face, tracing one cheekbone, drifting it over her lips and chin to feather that hollow in her throat. Her pulse beat wildly under his touch, and he smiled. She feared him, probably hated him, but was strongly attracted, too. The brew of such strong emotions would make for lively bed sport. He wondered if she’d been dominated sexually or if it had all been vanilla. Either way, he looked forward to teaching her what he liked, and giving her more pleasure than she imagined possible.

  Turning his back on her, Dace left without another word, ignoring Reginald’s call from across the gallery, making his exit unimpeded. He pulled his cell from his pocket to call Frank, his driver, and waited on the sidewalk, his thoughts resolutely on his decision and not on the impact he’d made on one Stephanie Price. He wasn’t going to think about her in any other aspects except for those involving carnal ones. Those finer emotions battering at his defences weren’t allowed to surface, although he allowed he’d earned her epithets.

  Chapter Two

  Stephanie lowered herself onto Reginald’s desk chair. Her knees were too wobbly to take her weight for another instant. She wearily rested her head in her hands. Sophie had really done it this time. Her sibling must have been crazy to think she could get away with hoodwinking that man. And probably stealing a fair chunk of change from him. Stephanie had been paying for her little sister’s escapades since childhood, while coping with her stepmother’s indifference and occasional cruelty. Not to mention her father’s frequent, extended absences. Douglas Price led a questionable lifestyle, one Stephanie turned a blind eye to, accepting early on what she had no control over. Her mom loved the man, and he was an incredibly handsome charmer. He also paid for a nice house and kept food on the table, clothes on their back. He simply lacked any morals, once one peeled the outside layers away. Her mom evidently hadn’t had enough time to do that, probably blinded by love and lust, and when she died in a freak car crash, three days past Stephanie’s fifth birthday, she left her daughter in the care of an empty, self-centred narcissist. Fortunately, her mom’s ability to love unconditionally had extended to her daughter, and Stephanie knew her mom made her the person she was today, someone she liked and respected.

  However, her growing-up years put the formative ones to the test. Her father installed his other family, the one he created on the other side of the state, in Stephanie’s home a day after the funeral. Instant stepmother and sister. Stephanie, confused and missing her mom terribly, didn’t have the chance to grieve, and the lack served to make her turn inward. Gone was the mischievous, happy child people remembered, and in her place sprang up a quiet, independent little person who learned quickly to rely only upon herself. Stepmom Edie was a younger clone of Stephanie’s mom, if in looks only, and Stephanie and Sophie, separated in age by eighteen months, were constantly mistaken as twins. It made Stephanie’s school years hell until the teachers and other kids were able to tell the difference between them. Because when Sophie started kindergarten, Stephanie lost those few precious hours in the day where she wasn’t overwhelmed by Sophie’s precocious behavior, behavior that deteriorated into outright villainy. If it wasn’t for her mom’s early guidance, some amazing teachers, and a few other caring adults, she might have joined the ranks of Sophie, become her silent partner. Because Stephanie certainly couldn’t stand up to her sister or beat her at her game. Sophie took a person’s measure with one glance, assessed their weaknesses, and went for the throat. She took for herself and ran
with it. And she did it starting in Grade One. Sophie always had the best lunches, the nicest school supplies, and often, the newest clothes. What she didn’t steal, she managed to have people “share” with her.

  Stephanie raised her head and set her hands flat on the desktop to lever herself to her feet. There was no time to think about the past. She had to rescue her future, immediately. Dace Reynolds was totally dangerous. Sophie was out of the line of fire, as usual, but Stephanie was not. And the depths of her attraction to him scared the crap out of her. It was like being struck by lightning. She’d barely been able to keep her wits about her and hold him off. Stephanie Price simply did not lie down for any man she’d just met. She hadn’t had time for many relationships, and those she did consider, well, her sister effectively put paid to them. It tended to discourage a person.

  How could Dace Reynolds think he could get away with what he proposed? Proposed? Hell, he’d decided. He was going to use her the way Sophie used him, blinding him with sex and lies to take from him. He was going to use Stephanie’s body for his own purposes until she found her sister. Until she turned her flesh and blood over to him. Stephanie shivered. She didn’t think she could do that, even if she’d like to throttle Sophie at this very moment. No matter the difficulties, the messes, they were related by blood, and as the oldest child, Stephanie would protect her sister. Sophie was all she had left besides Douglas. It was a dreadful inheritance, because her father and Sophie were two peas in a pod. Sophie had come by her larcenous behaviour honestly. But they were all Stephanie had.

  Still, Stephanie wasn’t playing the whore for any man no matter what her sister had done. Not even a tall, broad-shouldered, incredibly fit man like Dace Reynolds, with his beautifully cut blond hair and frosty blue eyes with their thick, black lashes. His perfectly sculpted mouth nearly made up for all those horrible things he said to her. Nearly. And how perverse was she that she found him so immensely attractive despite the situation and his obvious fury? The audacity of his decision still took her breath. He might be the most attractive, gorgeous man she’d ever laid her eyes on, one she had felt an immediate connection with despite their less-than-auspicious first meeting. His rage offset the chemistry, as did her fear of wanting him so badly, but all those strong emotions seethed and surged within her. For a heartbeat, a tiny space in time, Stephanie had wanted to let him keep kissing her and find out she wasn’t like Sophie. She fancifully believed he would be able to discern the difference by the press of lips and the exploration of his tongue in her mouth. But her survival instincts surfaced. Dace would use her and take her soul, maybe break her heart, and she had too much pride to allow it. One had to love someone to take that kind of risk, and one didn’t love a person who used threats and coercion, trading on family ties, to force a physical liaison.

  Stephanie tidied her appearance by feel, automatically, wincing when her fingers smoothed her sleeve over her forearm. There would be evidence of Dace’s grip there tomorrow, if not tonight, but that was the least of her worries. She needed to get back on the floor and mingle, hopefully sell some of tonight’s offerings. She had to have this job. Sophie had emptied her bank accounts, well, not quite. Her dear sister left her enough to make the first and last month’s rent on a tiny apartment and purchase a few good outfits and shoes to assemble a professional wardrobe. Stephanie supposed she should be grateful for that iota of thoughtfulness. She’d had to rent the dress she wore tonight, as well as the sexy, if insanely high, shoes. Stephanie would be living paycheck to paycheck for the next long while, what with her living expenses and paying off her final student loans, but she had her dream job. And, apparently, her worst nightmare. But she’d think about that later, desperately trying to ignore her body’s response to the man. What did it say about her that she wanted to fuck him, too? If only life were so simple.

  “Ah, there you are!” Her boss’s voice was petulant. Stephanie figured him out within an hour of starting her new job, probably even during the interview process. And she knew how to manage him, too. As long as he thought things were his idea, he was easy to get along with, so she could avoid any confrontations. She preferred to gently guide people anyhow, and despite Reginald’s sometimes grating personality, he knew his stuff, and she could do nothing but learn from him. Stephanie blessed the professor who made the connection for her, insisting Reginald hire her and give her every opportunity. Professor David Atkins of the designer jeans and flawlessly ironed shirts had obviously been her boss’s lover. The letter of introduction she unashamedly read was too blatantly sexual and affectionate for them to be anything else.

  “Yes, Reginald. I’m just going to check on that group in the corner.” A sweeping glance ascertained Dace was no longer in the gallery, and she nearly sagged with relief.

  “First you need to tell me what that was about with Dace Reynolds!”

  “Mistaken identity, Reginald. And he realized he created a scene.” Stephanie didn’t know what more to say. And she remembered they hadn’t talked about the bronzes. “He thinks this is a perfect venue, sir.” For what she didn’t say. Couldn’t say. It was a gentle redirection, because who knew what her boss would think if he knew what had just gone down?

  “Well, you should know he’s an important man in this city. Important patron, too. You will do anything he wants, see that he gets anything he needs.” Reginald’s grand command, so close to what Dace demanded, had Stephanie looking at the floor to ensure she didn’t give anything away. Her core heated at the thought of giving Dace Reynolds anything he wanted.

  “Stephanie? Go to work and sell. Dear David assured me I’d never go wrong with you. Sell, my dear. Sell your heart out.”

  Giving him a quick smile, Stephanie hurried to head off the group of people leaving the gallery, motioning for a waiter to bring a tray of champagne. The rest of the evening was lost in a flurry of activity until closing. She had the satisfaction of knowing how well the exhibit had gone over, presented so perfectly with her unassuming guidance. Reginald had great skill in acquiring product. He could sniff out a Master anywhere in the world, but lost interest when it came to the presentation. That and selling with confidence was her forte, and she was proud of her skills. There was a small red dot on the majority of the paintings. Sold.

  Reginald locked the doors, beaming after the stragglers as they made their way to the street and threw his arms around her in the next moment. He smelled of citrus, and not that woodsy, all male scent Dace Reynolds marked her with. Stephanie blinked furiously to dispel the olfactory memory. “Wonderful! Let’s celebrate with a drink, and you can tell me all about Dace Reynolds. He has such an effect on the ladies! I often wish he batted for my team, Stephanie. All those dark, lowering looks on that handsome face. And his marvellous muscles.”

  Crap. Stephanie sighed. She had only worked here two and a half months, but Reginald had few personal boundaries. She knew more about her advocate the professor, Dear David, than was seemly, and she sorted through her excuse file in her head. “I’m exhausted, Reginald, and somebody has to come back in the morning and clear things up so you can take your vacation and buying trip on Monday.”

  Stephanie resolutely didn’t think about what was expected of her tomorrow night because Dace Reynolds could dream on. She’d be at the gallery at seven o’clock, safely locked behind the exhibit’s doors and state of the art alarm system, until she could come up with a better plan. Tracking down her sister would be nearly impossible, and while she’d make every effort to do it, if only to learn more about Dace Reynolds... No, that was not the reason. It couldn’t be. The man made his intentions shockingly clear, and they weren’t even approaching honorable.

  But what if you don’t want honorable? What if you just want a body next to yours in the night? Someone to wake up to? Someone to do filthy, dirty sexual things with, to experience amazing pleasure? Because Stephanie had no doubt Dace Reynolds knew his way around a woman’s body. But she couldn’t go there. Could she?

  Reginald pou
ted. “Okay then. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Stephanie didn’t tell him she didn’t have a car. She didn’t have enough money to take a cab to work every day, let alone make a car payment. But she’d use a taxi again tonight because taking a bus in her evening finery would probably result in purchasing the damn thing. The fabric would never survive a trip on those yucky bus seats.

  “I didn’t know how much I’d drink tonight, so I took a cab.” That would be true if she owned a car. Stephanie felt the need to hide her poverty from Reginald, at least until he returned from the Continent. She knew he was avaricious and judgmental, so keeping up appearances hadn’t hurt. Reginald would see her worth when he got back and the gallery was doing well, believe she fit into his circle, although it appeared he couldn’t keep staff. There had been several people in attendance tonight who commented on that fact, indicating their hope she would be at the next opening. It was something to think about, although putting up with Reginald was far, far easier than coping with her father. And her sister. The memory of Dace Reynolds’s outrageous statement crept in past Stephanie’s sturdy emotional defences, and she willed it back savagely. She went to her little office to retrieve her purse and light wrap while Reginald turned out most of the lights. He whistled down a cruising hack for her and left her to it.

  Stephanie tried to relax into the seat while the driver sped to her home, the lateness of the hour dictating the paucity of traffic. That damned memory trickled into the forefront of her brain, and she wrestled with it. He was so incredibly attractive. She shifted uncomfortably as her sex plumped in reaction to that insane proposal. The cabbie drew up in front of her nondescript building with a flourish, pulling her from what was clearly going to be a highly inappropriate fantasy. Passing him the fare with a tip, she hid a grimace at the amount. It was a good thing she could stand to lose a pound or five off her bottom, because her larder would be pretty bare for the next day or two.