by Pippa Roscoe
‘That might be the case. But this company isn’t the only thing you care about, is it? After all, your reputation is one of the things that makes men quake in their boots. How do you think they would feel to see you brought low by your wife?’
‘And just how do you think you might achieve such a thing?’
‘As my own reputation means so very little to me, I would be more than happy to create such a scandal that you would see my face everywhere you went, every newspaper, every online article—I would make sure that the world knew that the Great Wolf’s wife was bringing him to his knees.’
She was joking. Surely.
‘Imagine—the wife of the world’s greatest seducer looking elsewhere for her pleasure. What would that do to your precious reputation?’
‘You’re an innocent, you wouldn’t even know how,’ he declared.
He watched in horrified fascination as his wife turned her gaze from his to some poor dolt at the neighbouring table. Roman hadn’t spared a glance at him, but the other man had obviously not done the same for Ella—who now focused her entire being on him. A quirked eyebrow and delicious curve of red-painted lips brought a blush to the man’s cheeks. Before he took in Roman’s scowling features, put his drink down and made his way to a safe distance on the other side of the room.
Ella turned back to Roman, the look in her eyes unadulterated victory.
‘My virtue is meaningless, my innocence destroyed. You saw to that. You like to think that you’re the big bad wolf, but I was raised by the biggest, baddest wolf of them all. You taught me revenge and vengeance and I might just find that I enjoy it.’
CHAPTER FIVE
And the wolf smiled. For Red Riding Hood had knocked upon the door and in a heartbeat he would bid her enter. And once he had her where he wanted her...there would be no turning back.
The Truth About Little Red Riding Hood
—Roz Fayrer
SOMETHING INFERNAL ROARED within him. Hot, hard and angry. He was angry that she would try to seduce another in front of him, and also angry on her behalf. She had no idea what kind of power she wielded. Especially looking like that. He hadn’t lied when he’d said she looked like sin. All the images crashing through his mind taunted him with what he could not have. Writhing in his mind as if on silk bed sheets.
The sheer naivety of trying to get at him, at his reputation by sleeping with another man, infuriated him. Not that for one moment he believed that she’d actually go through with it. But Ella’s fiancé had fought hard with Roman not to give in to his baser desires and take her time and time again in France. All those opportunities he’d turned back from in order not to ruin her innocence and here she was, just wanting to throw it away?
He rounded the table, grasped her elbow and practically dragged her through the bar towards the bank of discreet lifts at the back.
‘That wasn’t seduction, that was an open invitation.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Somewhere private to have this conversation. A place where the patrons of my establishment won’t be subjected to a crude opening of the bedroom door which would have left you both unsatisfied and grieving for the loss of your innocence.’
With the swipe of his key card the lift doors opened and, despite the urge to practically throw her into the small space, he released her elbow and gestured for her to enter before him.
She did so, surprisingly without argument, and he stepped in to face her. ‘Seduction is about power,’ he said, looming over her, yet also trying desperately not to make physical contact, not to touch a millimetre of the deliciously small form practically vibrating with the same ferocious energy he felt building within him. ‘The giving and taking of it, subtly shifting between the seducer and the seduced. I do not think you are ready for that.’
‘I am not the girl I once was,’ she said. He gave her credit for managing to keep the tremors of her body from her voice.
‘And I am not the man you married.’
‘So, who are you then?’ she demanded.
‘The man who is trying to show you that, should you choose to go down that path, you would only get yourself into more trouble than you are in now.’
The lift arrived and the doors parted to reveal his penthouse apartment. But Ella saw none of the incredible views of Moscow from the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that took up the entire length and width of the side wall. She saw nothing of the expensively decorated room, the fireplace and sprawling leather sofa that could have easily seated six people. Instead, the sheer dismissal of Roman’s reaction to her threat had fired outrage within her breast. An outrage that contained a hint of the hurt that her husband had refused to touch her, that the Great Wolf, as the newspapers had reported him to be, the ‘errant seducer’, had chosen to leave her innocent.
And that wall of heat, that fire within her wanted it all to burn. Every last shred of a connection between her and this man.
‘Oh, how very kind of you to look after my innocence now. After you took everything I knew and tore it down.’
‘Everything you knew? Really? You met and married a man within five weeks. I did not force you into it.’
His words taunted her, scratched at wounds not yet healed. ‘You lied to me.’
‘It was a kindness. I didn’t have the luxury of lies growing up.’
‘A kindness?’
‘Yes. Would you rather I’d kidnapped you and forced you?’
She wanted to growl, to scream her rage. ‘You present two equally awful options and ask me which is better?’
‘I did not blackmail you, nor abuse your body. Your innocence is no defence against your own actions, and ignorance is no excuse.’
‘Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?’ she demanded.
‘Don’t you think it is better to know the truth about Vladimir? He used you as bait for me. Does that not outrage you?’
‘You think it worse to be used by him than you?’
‘Yes. Trust in that. If not me, then there would have been worse options out there.’
‘You think there is worse out there than what you did to me?’ Ella said, unable to wrap her head around the fact that her husband clearly thought himself a saviour of sorts.
‘Yes. Believe it or not, there are. Ones who wouldn’t have stopped themselves from taking everything you had on offer, including your innocence and much more.’
‘Don’t you dare paint yourself in some heroic light, rescuing me from a fate worse than you.’
‘I didn’t come after your money or your body.’
‘I hate you,’ she growled, finally letting loose all the pent-up energy and hurt accrued over the last eight months.
‘Good. Now you might just understand a fraction of what I felt for my grandfather.’
Roman turned away in frustration, stalking towards the window and passing a hand through his hair rather than reaching for her and shaking her as he wanted to do—shake some sense into the woman his wife had become. But he hadn’t brought her to his apartment to talk about the past. No. Now he was working towards damage limitation for her and himself. He had to persuade her from her ridiculous plan. Had to show her the dangerous fire she was playing with.
Spinning back to her, he pressed on. ‘Tell me. What would you do once you found the unsuspecting key to your revenge against me, Ella? Would you be able to do what I did? Would you be able to seduce? To bend another to your will?’
He snared her with his gaze and took slow deliberate steps towards her, the unconsciously lithe movements catching her attention and widening her eyes.
‘Because true seduction involves the chase.’ This he could do. This he could give her. A final lesson to teach her the error of her plans. ‘It’s about timing. When to make your move. Not when you are ready, but when they are.’
As if conjuring the very thing
he wanted to warn her against, he watched as her body turned to him, in tune with his every movement, and cursed both her and himself to hell and damnation.
‘It is the appreciation of what your prey is feeling,’ he said as her eyes flared as much as his own arousal, no longer able to ignore the way that his body had reacted to hers. The way her nipples had pebbled beneath the tight confines of her dress, the way her breath hitched, caught in her throat, as if equally under the sensual spell he was weaving between them.
‘The heady sense of anticipation when they know what’s coming and no longer fight it but actively want it. When every nerve, every cell of their body is on fire with need, with desire, an intensity that becomes almost undeniable. It’s the moment when your prey is most alive, ready and willing to succumb to their own desire.’
He was bare inches from her now, no longer sure who was the seducer or the seduced, his breath just as ragged as her own.
‘You talk of seduction and power as if you didn’t already know that you had all the power all along?’ Ella threw at the man mere inches from her, crowding her in the most delicious of ways. She hated what her body wanted, the yearning that almost choked her. The need. Her only defence ineptly thrown barbs at a man who seemed more well versed in the cravings of her own body than herself.
‘Really? And what if I gave you all the power now? What would you take from me? How would you exact your revenge? Is it a signature you want or is there something else?’
Her mind stopped. Short-circuited. Instead, it threw up images of her deepest, darkest dreams from the last eight months. Fantasies of a wedding night that had never been, ones that she could barely admit to herself even though she’d woken up morning after morning hot and exhausted, aching with an unsatisfied need. A need that only one man could truly satisfy.
‘Is that why you’re really here? Do you know as much as I that we have unfinished business?’ he demanded, his words surprisingly soft, gentle almost, seductive.
‘Says the man who reportedly saved my innocence,’ she bit out angrily.
He leaned into her then, closing the small space between them, dipping his head to whisper in her ear. ‘Says the woman who would give it away to have her revenge.’
He pulled back, his eyes raking over her body as if looking for something, some kind of sign—something she feared that her body would betray. Had perhaps already betrayed.
‘What if I said that you could take your vengeance out on me? Right here, right now?’ Once again, her husband was pulling the rug from beneath her. Turning her words and intentions against her. Because suddenly she wanted that more than anything. She barely had the time to wonder if she had been fooling herself all along. If she had, in fact, come here with that one purpose.
‘What if I gave you one night—just this night—to take whatever it is you want? Because, Ella, I would lay myself prostrate on that funeral pyre and die a happy man.’
The raw admittance, guttural and dark with desire, completely undid her. A strange heady sense of vulnerability, the image of her husband willingly giving her whatever she desired for this one night, fired a heat deep within her until she ached, a sob of need rising within her chest threatening to escape.
‘And I am supposed to believe a word that comes out of your mouth?’ Her last line of defence, half begging and half pleading, for what outcome, she no longer knew.
‘Then don’t believe my words... Believe this.’
His lips claimed hers with an almost primal need. These were not the same gentle sweet-tasting lies pressed against her lips she remembered. This was raw, unadulterated desire. Seeking, demanding, expecting.
She gasped as her mouth opened to his, desperately seeking oxygen that only served to feed the fire within her. The fire of need and want and so much more. Yes, she admitted to herself, this was what she had wanted.
Ever since she had first seen him, Ella had sensed this about him, had desired and coveted it. All her imaginings of how she would feel, what it would be like, paled in comparison as his arms swept around her, his hands trailing fire across her body, over her breasts and clutching at her hips, drawing her into him, against him, against his arousal. Showing her his own need for her.
‘This is what you do to me, Ella. Does that please you?’
Ella could not speak, could barely think to respond, but her body knew. She groaned into his kiss, the shocking sound of her own desire undeniable. Her hands flew to his chest, her mind warring with her heart as she fisted the cotton of his shirt, claiming and owning her own need for him in a way that shocked her.
While his tongue plundered her mouth, rendering her senseless to anything but the raw passion he was building within her, his hands teased up the taut hemline of her skirt a few inches, his fingers reaching beneath to mould her thighs and backside with his palms. Her passionate cries were nothing compared to the growl of raw want that vibrated across her skin.
Drawing back, he spun her in his arms and pressed her against the wall of the room, her arms coming up to brace against the strangely soothing cool panel. His body leaned against her from behind and he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her neck, nudging her head to one side to give himself better access to the sensitive area behind her ear. Held like this, she felt completely surrounded, crowded but deliciously so, desperate for more, for something she couldn’t quite explain.
His hand clutched the nape of her neck briefly, strongly, a display of his power, there and gone in a moment, as he pressed the pad of his thumb to the top of her spine and traced the outline to where the material of her dress barely covered the curve of her hips. She arched into the touch, pressing her breast into his other hand, and nearly cried out as he ran a knuckle over her hardened nipple.
His hands covered her, worshipped her, slipping beneath the material that barely covered her breast and causing her to lean back against him, against the hard ridge of his arousal. Her head drew back to rest against his shoulder, her breathing harsh and her cries of pleasure falling about them, discarded in the air.
‘So glorious. So magnificent...’ Roman’s words were a continuation of the seduction his body was performing.
His hand swept around her neck, cupping her chin in his palm, and she couldn’t help but bend into it, taking his finger into her mouth where his tongue had been, sucking on him, consuming him in any way she could.
She felt him tremble behind her, the action sending fierce satisfaction through her to have this man as weak with need as she was. And then he turned her in his arms once again, to face him, a raised eyebrow taking in that power she felt, appreciating her own power, encouraging it even. The harsh slash of red across his cheeks speaking of his arousal, the ferocity of his gaze speaking of his need.
‘Will you let me give you this, Ella? For just this one night?’
She knew what he was asking. That, no matter how much of a villain she had painted him in her mind, he would not give what she would not willingly take.
And she did want to take it. She wanted to take him. All of him.
‘This will be the end of your thoughts and plans of revenge. I will grant you the divorce you wish for.’
Something deep within her rent apart. She knew, with more certainty than she had ever thought he’d loved her, that this was not a condition but a gift of sorts upon parting. It was this that would symbolise the removal of Roman from her life. Not a signature on a piece of paper, but one indelibly written on her body.
‘Yes.’
As if the leash had been loosened on the last threads of his restraint, Roman claimed her once again. His lips crashed against hers, his tongue, glorying in its freedom, pressed into the warm wet heat of her mouth.
If he’d known what she would be like beneath his touch, his kiss, he would not have been able to leave her untouched previously. Every inch of him was drenched with a need he’d never before experienced. He sought not
to disguise the way his body trembled but to relish it as he realised that it fed her own desire, her own want. He had not lied when he’d promised to prostrate himself before her. Nor had he lied when he’d proclaimed he’d die a happy man.
His hands went to where his fingers had tripped over the zip as he’d caressed her body, pulling at the tab at the side of the dress and sliding it downward.
She stood before his gaze, unwavering. Only the pulse beating erratically at her throat, her cornflower-blue eyes almost black with desire, the flush across her cheeks speaking of how desperately she was clinging to her own control. And, bastard that he was, he wanted it gone, he wanted her completely at the mercy of her own desire. For if this was to be it, if this was to be their one and only night together before he signed the divorce papers severing their connection, he would give her everything she’d ever wanted in the way that her fiancé had never been able to.
‘Take it off,’ he commanded.
He saw the flash of defiance spark in her eyes, saw her internal war as she battled with his demand, battled with what she wanted and what she thought she should want.
He hadn’t lied when he’d told her that seduction was the giving and taking of power. And if Ella had even an ounce of an idea of how much power she wielded in that moment she would have used it to destroy him completely.
Her hands swept up to the straps on her shoulders and brushed aside the scarlet material. His gaze locked on to the acres of smooth pale skin it revealed as it fell from her body and she kicked it aside with feet still encased in the highest of red leather heels. Her perfect breasts were bare to him, nipples taut and deliciously teasing, as she breathed in deeply beneath his gaze. Her narrow waist flared at her hips, where the smallest of thongs remained to hide the last vestiges of her modesty.
Red. He would always see her in red. And suddenly the memory of the red cape he had bought to replace the one damaged on their first meeting flashed into his mind. But now was not the time for thoughts or fantasies of the past. Now was the time for taking.