The Decision (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Allyson Young

  With an effort, Stephanie dragged her aching feet up two flights of stairs and down the long hallway to the last door on the right. She counted herself fortunate to have obtained a corner apartment, saving her the sounds of living emanating from suites on both sides of her own and giving her more light with the extra windows. She still painted, dabbled actually, and prized the light. The key rasped in the lock, and the tumblers gave, reluctantly. Stepping inside, she closed the door tightly, giving it an extra little push, testing it. The deadbolt was her personal installation. Stephanie didn’t know this city, but she knew taking a few precautions never hurt, and the block next to hers appeared sketchy. The window by the fire escape had also been secured with a bit of ingenuity and a screwdriver. She didn’t feel the need to do the same thing to the other windows, for anyone would need a ladder to reach them.

  Stephanie longed for her dog, a big, muscled Staffordshire terrier she’d rescued, stolen, actually, from those assholes down the block from her dad, but needed a bit more time to get some money put by. Jake ate a lot, and there were vet bills to consider. There was also the main issue of talking her landlord around, for he was adamantly opposed to pets at this point in time. But this was the only place she’d been able to find fitting her budget that was clean and even close to being homey, unlike the impersonal white boxes she’d looked at. Even so, Stephanie felt terribly guilty about leaving Jake behind. On that thought, she checked her watch and decided it was too late to place a call to Lilly and see if Jake had chewed her out of house and home.

  Lilly was a wonderful friend, a former college roommate, and as nuts about animals as Stephanie was. She had family money, too, and wasn’t the least bit hesitant about sharing her wealth. Stephanie knew she’d never be able to pay her friend back in a monetary way, and was so grateful Lilly loved her dog. But Jake would be missing his mistress, and that one trip back to see him only underscored the fact. He was beside himself with joy when she arrived and sorely depressed when she had to leave. Her insane prattling on the phone while Lilly held the receiver to his ear had to fill the void for now. Her friend assured her Jake knew her voice and looked forward to her calls.

  Carefully removing the rented dress, Stephanie hung it on the padded hanger behind her bedroom door, leaving her in her strapless bra and scrap of a thong. She’d hand wash the undies tonight so they could drip dry, although she wouldn’t be wearing them again until the next show. She had practical, economical undergarments for everyday wear that stood up to laundering, and assured herself she liked wearing them far better. They were comfortable if hardly feminine, and no one would ever see them anyhow. Stephanie still didn’t have the time or inclination for a social life. Because Sophie stole any man Stephanie showed an interest in, she was gun shy. It was difficult to trust men when they were so fickle, preferring the instant tumble instead of building a relationship. Stephanie secretly wondered if she was lacking in some regard. She and Sophie were nearly identical, if only in looks, and yet men always preferred her sister. That didn’t mean Stephanie didn’t think about sex, and she read lots of romance novels, both erotic and mainstream. She didn’t share her fantasies with anyone, but there was something incredibly hot about strong, dominating men. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be tumbled, just once…

  She stared for a moment at the party dress and down at the matching shoes. Stephanie felt every inch the desirable woman tonight, yet aloof and reserved. Well, at least until that man got in her space and stripped her composure. She had the impression he’d seen right through the material of the lovely evening dress, and her nipples tightened just thinking about it, her pussy again clenching gently amidst dampening of her tender tissues. Stephanie bit her lip and chased the memory away. Animal attraction was no reason to ignore the other portents here. And she’d better not forget he fucked Sophie, who had ten times the experience. But it was still a nice dress…

  The suits she wore at the gallery were designer knockoffs, but Stephanie kept them neatly pressed and in good repair. She knew she looked the part of the consummate professional, right down to her sensible, matching pumps. The painful heels she affected tonight were incredibly sexy, but hell to walk in. She set them carefully beside the door as a reminder to return both them and the dress the next morning, before slipping a light nightgown over her head and walking barefoot to the kitchen, pulling the pins out of her hair along the way. It spilled over her shoulders, and she ran her fingers through it and absently massaged her scalp with relief. She really ought to have it cut short, but it was her one vanity, the thick waves being the only physical attribute she’d inherited from her mom. Stephanie took a secret satisfaction in the fact Sophie’s hair, while the same color, was poker straight and tended to lankness unless she curled it.

  Stephanie filled a glass of water from the tap, deciding not to make tea at the late hour. She swallowed half of it down to ease her empty belly, having had no time to sample any of the finger foods offered at the showing. There were crackers in the cupboard and cheese in the fridge, but she was too tired to fix herself anything, so she set her glass in the sink and headed back to her bedroom.

  The small apartment boasted a tiny bedroom and attached bath, kitchenette, and a much larger living area. The ceilings were higher than the norm and gave the impression of airiness despite the size of the space. The significantly sparse furniture consisted of bits and pieces she found at flea markets and secondhand stores with the exception of her single bed. Stephanie insisted on an excellent mattress, knowing from past experience how important it was to sleep comfortably and arise well rested. Her stepmother hadn’t subscribed to the same belief. It was the sight of that monk’s cot which again levelled her emotional defences.

  I want to fuck you. Boy, sweet nothings in a woman’s ear. Not. This was absolutely not happening. A replay of her astonished and infuriated emotional reaction didn’t allow her to completely ignore the way her sex again drew up between her legs and dampened in response to remembering the blatant statement. It was also hard to ignore the way her breasts tingled, the tips tightening and shrinking into taut little nubs, when she remembered how he’d kissed her, taken her breath and very nearly her resolve. I want to fuck you. Just like that.

  Near hysterical laughter bubbled over her lips, and Stephanie clapped both hands on her mouth to muffle the sound. She wondered how many women Dace Reynolds said that to, and how many found a horizontal surface right pronto? Not that he’d need such a surface, she speculated. He was big and strong and could probably do it against a wall or on the edge of a desk and—what the hell was she thinking? The asshole had propositioned her. Actually, he’d announced his plan and expected her to accommodate him, period.

  Stephanie finally allowed herself to think it. If a similar man had approached her with such visible interest and intent, without the nasty reasons behind his focus, and announced his desire, it would have shocked her, but thrilled her to her core. She thought she liked dominant men, appreciated their certainty of knowing what they wanted. Oh, not the domineering, overbearing types who were selfish and could be abusive, but the ones in charge of their destiny. The ones who could overwhelm a woman, but in a good way, for her own sexual good, while respecting her as a person. And that was where all her romance novel reading fell down. Dace Reynolds had no respect for her. He desired her. Stephanie was not a total stranger to desire and grasped how closely anger and arousal meshed, love and hate, yin and yang, and she knew he spoke the truth about the sexual attraction. But the man held her in contempt, judging her by the same standards he applied to her sister. Dace wanted to use her in a misguided attempt to ease his pride and take revenge on Sophie. He was blind to the outcome, and Stephanie was not. It infuriated her to think she had met such an attractive man and he was so stupid. She had no doubt he would come to his senses in the next short while and drop his insane quest, however. Such a man wouldn’t be driven by emotion once he had a chance to cool down. Stephanie would simply avoid him in the interim.

>   Yanking the bed linens back in a frustrated gesture, nearly dislodging the bottom sheet as she did so, didn’t dissipate her chaotic thoughts. The top pillow bounced free and to the floor. She picked it up by the corner and slipped into bed, hugging the oblong, down-filled object to her chest. It was her pillow from childhood and accompanied her wherever she went. The familiar shape and scent gave her comfort now, and Stephanie curled around it and drifted into sleep. Her last thoughts were of frosty blue eyes melting with the heat of desire and her own sad sense of loss.

  Chapter Three

  “She wasn’t there?’ Dace heard the silky threat in his voice and knew it registered on Frank’s astute senses. His driver shuffled in place, the movement at odds with the size and competence of the man.

  “I went to the address, sir. I waited for a few minutes until it was just a minute to the hour and went up to knock on her door. Apartment two sixteen. You know how a place sounds empty? Well, I’d swear nobody was in there.”

  Fuck. So much for reading acceptance in those lovely eyes. Dace pulled out his cell and scrolled through his contacts. He found Reg’s number and punched it. Voice mail kicked in, and he ground his teeth, tapping the pound key to short circuit the message. “Reg? Dace. Call me as soon as you get this.”

  He turned his attention to Frank. “Go back to her apartment and wait. You should have called me instead of delivering the news in person.”

  Frank’s eyes flickered before he nodded. “Yes, sir. And how long should I wait?”

  “Until she comes home.”

  “Uh, sir? Who do I watch for?”

  Well shit. That little woman had messed his head up. Dace admitted he’d been counting the minutes until seeing her again. His sexual desire for her ratcheted with every passing hour. He’d opted for Frank to pick her up and bring her to his home, further clarifying their relationship. This wasn’t romance. Oh, he’d ordered a tempting buffet, and the presentation was superb, but she was to be in his service, albeit temporarily, and it wouldn’t do for her to think she’d impressed him in any other manner. It was merely the strong resemblance to Sophie drawing him, and the fact Stephanie would find the bitch so he could deal with her in his own way. If it took some time, then he’d enjoy Stephanie in the interim.

  “She looks like Sophie. Her sister.”

  His driver blinked several times, but otherwise his features remained blank. “Yes, sir.”

  Dace stared after Frank’s retreating back until the other man disappeared into the elevator. Maybe he should rethink this. He was powerful and wealthy, but if Stephanie wasn’t going to fall in line with his plans, then he might have misjudged the situation a tad. Dace cringed to think of how his private affairs could be splashed across the tabloids if she chose to make his proposition public. He’d managed to keep things on the down low with Sophie, and she of course hadn’t made any waves, preferring to exit stage right with a considerable chunk of change and a bigger chunk of his pride. Perhaps he shouldn’t have assumed his edict would weather well against the obvious intelligence and spirit of one Stephanie Price. Dace had seriously underestimated her effect on him, and he ground his teeth as he realized how she clouded his thinking. Just like her sister had. His cell sounded its distinct tone, snapping him from his revelation.

  “Reynolds.”

  “That’s a sexy growl, Dace.” Reg’s voice was flirtatious and climbed a high register. Voices sounded in the background, glasses clinked, and music played.

  “How much do you know about Stephanie Price?” Dace heard the steely determination in his tone and tried to claw it back. Hadn’t he just resolved to play it smart?

  “I know she comes with excellent references and the gallery’s done extremely well even in the short period of time I’ve employed her. What’s this about, Dace? I’m leaving Monday for a much-anticipated vacation slash buying trip on the Continent, and I’d like to think I’m leaving my business in capable hands.”

  Well shit. Now what? If he shared his concerns, Reg would learn about Sophie and make him nuts with curious questions and innuendo. If he didn’t, then his business friend could be in deep trouble, come back to God knew what. There had to be a compromise. Dace decided to weave a loose variation of the truth, because he was going to see this through, whatever it was. He simply wasn’t going to allow the woman to get under his defences.

  “I asked her out, and she stood me up. And I neglected to get her phone number.” It had been a simple matter to get her address given his contacts, but she appeared to have no landline, listed or otherwise.

  Silence. Then a chuckle. “Steffie stood you up?”

  Steffie? Nonsense. She was a Stephanie. “Either that or I sent my driver to the wrong address.”

  “You sent a driver? That’s an interesting way to impress a woman, Dace, even in my limited experience. Actually, I probably grasp the significance more than others might.”

  “I was sending a message, Reg. You don’t need to know more than that. I’d appreciate her number.”

  Reg clearly debated for a moment, the silence crackling in Dace’s ear. Then the other man rattled off the digits, causing Dace to scramble for a scrap of paper. He ended up writing the damn thing on the corner of a linen napkin, absently noting his slim gold pen lived up its promise of writing anywhere, anytime.

  “Is there something I should know, Dace?” A hint of anxiety colored Reg’s tone.

  Dace hesitated. “I’ll be, uh, pursuing her over the next while, my friend. I guess that means I’ll see how she manages your business while you’re gone. How long will you be away?”

  “Ten days. Maybe two weeks. I find myself second-guessing things now.”

  Reg always did have that sixth sense about anything that was even slightly off, but it seemed it might be Dace’s fault in this instance. Maybe Dace was totally wrong about Stephanie and could take a page out of Reg’s book. Except the other man could never keep an assistant, so he might be desperate and misjudged the woman’s character. References were easily forged, after all. She was doing it to him again, making him question himself. He hardened his heart.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you grief, Reg.” He thought quickly and once again trod heavily on his own ego. “I’m not used to women giving me the brush off.”

  The laughter on the other end of the line was more spontaneous. “She probably lost track of time, Dace. There was cleanup at the gallery, and Stephanie is a perfectionist. Worth every penny.”

  Dace hustled Reg off the phone in the next breath, armed with fresh ammunition. He wished the other man a good holiday and good hunting, and ended the call. He entered Stephanie’s number and cursed when it rolled over to voice mail. Her voice, as low and musical as he remembered, stirred his senses. Dace assured himself it was just a matter of time until he had her in his bed, and in his shower, his kitchen, his office, and every other place his vivid imagination could concoct. And he speculated how she’d respond to the bite of erotic pain. Dace adjusted himself as he debated whether or not to leave a message, wincing at the constriction of the fabric prison around his cock. He decided against leaving a message, preferring not to give her any advantage, and called Frank instead.

  “Sir?”

  “Come back and pick me up. She’s at the gallery.”

  It was probably a good thing he couldn’t see his driver’s face. The silence was eloquent in itself. But Dace was past caring. It wasn’t like Frank was going to tell anyone. He was a loyal employee, and come to think of it, he treated Sophie with icy formality. She’d complained about Frank, saying he wasn’t properly deferent. Frank had better instincts than Dace did, although to be fair, Frank hadn’t been fucking her and having his brains scrambled in the process.

  * * * *

  Stephanie contemplated the leftovers she’d had the wherewithal to shove into the little fridge in the staff kitchen the evening before. There was even three-quarters of a bottle of champagne, the stopper wedged into the mouth of the bottle to preserve the
bubbles. The appetizers were a little wilted but should be safe to consume. She would never turn down a free meal. The ringtone on her cell interrupted her inspection. “Sweet Child O’ Mine.” Well, one couldn’t blame a girl for being a bit nostalgic. Stephanie had been her momma’s sweet child. Reginald’s name came up.

  “Steffie? Everything okay?” He was back to using the diminutive. Gallery showings apparently called to the formal side of him.

  “Yes, Reginald. I’ve cleaned up and—”

  “So why are you still there? It’s Saturday night.”

  There was something in his tone… Stephanie hurried to answer with something to divert him. Survival instinct. “I had errands this morning and was late getting here. I was just about to leave.”

  Damn it. She would have to go window shop or to the diner for coffee because she had the distinct impression Reginald was up to something and that might include coming to the gallery. What if he dropped by later and found her curled up on the couch? This was becoming complicated. Stephanie had steadfastly pretended she hadn’t noticed the numbers on the digital clock click over to seven.

  “Well, if that’s how you want to play it…”

  What? “Excuse me?”

  “Dace called me.”

  Her blood ran cold. Stephanie literally felt her veins seize up as her heart struggled to pump the sluggish fluid to her extremities. Dace Reynolds was going to cost her her job. Why hadn’t she thought of that? God. Reg would pick a patron and colleague over an employee. She slumped to the floor, sliding down the front of the cabinets, the fridge door hanging open, forgotten, the light casting a spot lit glow over her knees and sprawled lower legs to pool on the floor.