by Vivien Sparx
Angelica took her glass of wine and edged into the fringes of the crowd, making her way slowly across the room towards a tight knot of men and women by the doors near the marina. She smiled as she approached and the good-looking man from accountancy caught her eye. They exchanged glances and the group opened up to welcome her into their circle.
Angelica nodded distracted greetings. These people were colleagues, each of them senior members of her bank’s team that had worked on the Lance Corporation account. Angelica had earned an invitation to the function as part of that team, even though her lowly administrative tasks meant she was far down on the rungs of office hierarchy, and certainly too insignificant to have been included in the negotiations between her bank and Lucien Lance – let alone ever to have met the notorious entrepreneur.
“We didn’t think you were going to make it,” the good-looking man at her shoulder smiled.
“Neither did I,” Angelica said.
From where she stood she now had an almost unobstructed view to where the tall man stood, and she turned her body casually towards him to get a better look.
The man was strikingly handsome, tall, with broad shoulders, and yet the narrow waist and flanks of an athlete, and he carried his body with that natural athletic poise and confidence of movement that cannot be counterfeited. His face was narrow, with a long square jaw, his features chiseled at the corners of his mouth and in the cleft of his chin.
His hair was thick and jet-black, and although it curled fashionably about his ears and hung down to his collar, it was carefully groomed. It gave him the air of a buccaneer – a dashing, unpredictable touch of flair.
His skin was tanned, smooth and when he smiled she saw how dazzlingly white the perfect large teeth were in the wide thin mouth – but the eyes did not smile. They stayed cold and hidden, although there were crinkles at the corners of his dark eyes. The man was distant and remote – watching from behind a charming façade like a sniper in ambush.
He was perfect.
However men like this one draw women to them like a magnet – women irresistibly attracted to the excitement and thrill of being around him, and Angelica glanced around the room and intuitively understood the glittering sparkle of interest in the faces of women nearby. She heard the whispers of others and she edged away from her work colleagues to overhear two middle-aged women gossiping in hushed conspiratorial tones.
“… absolutely ruthless…” one of the women said.
Angelica moved closer.
The woman’s companion agreed, and they exchanged sly knowing glances and mirthless giggles.
“Who is he?” Angelica thrust herself between the two older women, and her voice was hushed and awed.
The grey-haired woman on her left raised a quizzical eyebrow. She was in her fifties, her hair a grey-gold cloud of tight curls. Her make-up had been applied to highlight her cheekbones. She widened her eyes in surprise and Angelica saw the fine web of lines on the edges of her face like the fine crackling of an ancient oil painting.
“You mean you don’t know who he is?” she asked.
“No.”
The older women exchanged more glances. “He’s Lucien Lance.”
Angelica blinked, and the shock of it was like diving into a glacial mountain stream. She turned from the women’s bemused faces and looked back at the man.
Lucien Lance.
Oh, hell!
She took another sip of her wine, emptying the glass, and as she searched the room for a waiter she asked as casually as her tremulous voice would allow, “Does he have a girlfriend?”
“Several.”
The first woman rested a ring-bejeweled soft hand on Angelica’s arm and explained, her voice rising a little as her eyes twinkled. “Lucien Lance has lots of women, darling. Lots and lots of women. They’re usually tall, glamorous and sophisticated. Mainly models – but none of them last long.” Her mouth curled into a wicked smile. “Most warm his bed for a week or two and then he casts them aside and moves on to the next one.”
The lady at her side smiled and it was a dreamy, wistful little pout of her lips. “He certainly wouldn’t need to ask me twice,” she sighed. “If only I was five years younger…”
“Twenty five would be more accurate,” her friend tittered archly, and there was an awkward feline moment of silence between the women that Angelica recognized but ignored.
“Why doesn’t he settle down?” she asked, fascinated. “He could have his pick of women.”
The second woman beside Angelica spread her hands wide and shrugged, as if that gesture explained the complexity and the mystery of the man they were all admiring. “Who knows?” she said. “Maybe he has a fear of commitment. Maybe he thinks women only want him for his money and power. Maybe he’s just a user. Nobody knows…” she leaned in so closely that Angelica could smell the expensive aroma of the woman’s perfume. “He’s one of those bastards, darling – scorching hot in bed, but an iceberg out of it.”
Angelica’s stomach filled with fluttering butterflies as the two older women launched into whispered speculation about Lucien Lance’s trail of broken-hearted lovers. Now she knew who the man was, Angelica felt her resolve melting. She was terrified. But at the same time everything she had overheard made Lucien Lance seem like the perfect man.
The man she needed tonight.
She wasn’t looking for love. She was looking for a vengeful night of hot steamy passion that would put to rest her doubts and fears, and restore her shattered confidence.
And he was good in bed; that was a significant bonus. If she was actually going to leap off this cliff, then the landing might as well be as pleasant as possible.
Suddenly Angelica realized she was sexually aroused, the tautness under the fabric of her dress and the oozing warm flood at her center surprised her. She felt the thrumming pulse of her blood in her ears and there was a tremble in her thighs.
But it was Lucien Lance!
The man’s reputation as a fearsome businessman with a merciless heart of stone intimidated her.
One of the women beside her touched her shoulder and Angelica leaned in close.
“Everyone calls him Lucifer,” the woman whispered. “Did you know that?”
Angelica did.
She knew the name. Lucien Lance was a corporate raider; one of the elite businessmen who made vast fortunes buying companies that were teetering on the brink of financial collapse and then breaking them apart and selling the collective pieces for profits that counted in the hundreds of millions. He was daring, ambitious and relentless. In the world of finance and investment he was Lucifer Lance – a name given by envious adversaries and one that had been well earned.
Angelica tried to swallow the lump that was jammed in her throat. If she had known men as good looking as this were captains of industry she would have spent a lot more time reading the ‘Wall Street Express’ in her lunch breaks.
“Don’t look so worried, darling,” the first woman batted her heavily painted eyes in Angelica’s direction, her tone patronizing. “He doesn’t actually bite – and he’s certainly not going to be interested in someone like you.”
Angelica glared at the woman and for a moment her expression was ferocious, her eyes snapping with an electric flare. The older woman held her gaze undaunted, subtly making her own eyes wider and artless. Then the woman smiled – a slow complacent provocation that was a clear invitation and challenge.
“Lucien Lance only dates beautiful, glamorous models,” the woman taunted. “You are perfectly safe.”
Angelica narrowed her eyes.
Suddenly, against her will and inclination, angry words came back to torment her.
“What did you expect, Angelica? It’s not like you’re as attractive as Penny. It’s not my fault, it’s nature.”
The words were a bitter deafening echo and Angelica felt the sting of welling tears that shone in her eyes. She took a deep shuddering breath that sounded as a sob, and then suddenly upended the w
ine glass to her mouth and swallowed the contents in a single gulp.
She pushed her shoulders back, licked her lips glossy, and then took two steps towards Lucien Lance.
And faltered.
Just as her courage had begun to carry her forward she saw an old stooped man in a dark blue suit chiming a spoon against a glass. Everyone fell silent and Angelica stood trembling and awkward, like a deer poised on the verge of flight.
Lucien Lance turned on his heel and stepped up onto a low stage. He was smiling, making a gesture of dismissal and impatience as a few people at the far side of the room began to applaud him.
Angelica felt someone close beside her and she turned as people pressed forward to listen to Lucien Lance. It was the good-looking man from accountancy. He stood with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, and his elbow brushed against Angelica’s arm but he did not pull away.
“Satan’s son,” the man whispered in Angelica’s ear, his voice a breathy whisper and she had to tilt her head closer to catch his words. She could smell the spicy scent of his cheap aftershave. “The meanest, most ruthless raider on Wall Street,” the man added. His mouth was so close to her ear now she could feel the tickle of vibration when he breathed. “I feel sorry for him – forced to go through life with good looks, fabulous wealth and an endless parade of beddable women.”
Angelica started to giggle – and then Lucien Lance’s dark flinty eyes locked onto hers.
Angelica panicked. She felt her heart skip fluttering beats and her legs turned to jelly. Suddenly it felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. She gasped, feeling a shock of simmering heat cramp in the pit of her stomach with such clenching force that it took all of her strength not to double over.
Then, when she could bare no more – when the intensity of his gaze threatened to sear her – she lowered her eyes and tried just to breathe again.
“Thank you, one and all,” she heard Lucien’s voice over the rush of blood in her ears as he suddenly began to speak to the gathered crowd. She closed her eyes for a moment. His voice was like the touch of a lover’s fingers along the nape of her neck; tantalizing, but warm and resonate. And as she concentrated on the sound of his voice she felt a flush of blood spread warmly across her breasts and turn her nipples into hard little pebbles.
For heaven’s sake, Angelica! Get a grip.
She opened her eyes again slowly, aware that she was swaying slightly. Lucien Lance was working the audience, intent and concentrated as he spoke. In the dramatic lighting of overhead lamps, the strength of his jawbone and hard handsome lines of his face were emphasized. Angelica watched the alert eyes sweeping around the room, seeming to reach out and connect with them all; including them, impressing them.
Then it was over and all around Angelica people were applauding. Lucien raised his hands and smiled his thanks, then bounded off the platform and began to drive his way forward through the crowd of well-wishers and admirers.
He came toward her.
Angelica did not move.
Their eyes met, the smile stilled on Lucien’s lips. He gazed at her and his expression became solemn.
Angelica flinched. Her hand flew to her mouth.
The moment seemed to last for an eternity and Angelica just stood paralyzed, feeling Lucien Lance’s eyes upon her. They were pirate eyes, wolfish, and glinting as dangerously as a blade.
“Hello,” she said softly.
Lucien Lance gaped at her in astonishment, and then the shutters came down over his eyes and his face became stony. He raised an eyebrow and Angelica saw the mockery and challenge in his eyes. His expression was dismissive and crushing.
“A man like me needs a woman who is exciting and interesting and willing to try new things in the bedroom.”
The words seemed deafening in Angelica’s ears as the memory and the pain overwhelmed her. And now she could see the same damning dismissive look in this man’s eyes. It was the look her boyfriend had given her that afternoon when he had told her he was leaving her for another woman.
Before she could react, Lucien Lance turned away from her. Angelica stood for another second and her instincts screamed in her head to flee; to run from the room before she made a fool of herself again.
Just hours ago she had ben betrayed and humiliated by her boyfriend. Now she was about to proposition one of the most powerful men in the business world, and for a fleeting moment she worried how she would deal with the embarrassment of being rejected. She paused for one more erratic heartbeat – and then her feet carried her forward so that when Lucifer Lance – the great demon of Wall Street – turned back, Angelica Benson was standing right in front of him.
The man stared at her.
She swallowed. “You’re Lucifer Lance,” Angelica said and her voice sounded small and quavering.
“Lucien,” he corrected her.
She nodded jerkily. “But people call you Lucifer.”
Lucien smiled at her bleakly. “Only my enemies.”
Angelica nodded again and stared down at her empty wine glass. She realized that the conversation was hardly sparkling, but her wits had deserted her. She was standing there like a gawking blushing girl, gazing up into his handsome hard face.
His eyes were black and penetrating.
She held out her hand suddenly. “My name is Angelica.”
He took her hand. His skin was warm and dry and she could sense and feel the restrained strength of the man’s strong fingers as they pressed gently against her own. The image of him, so strong and overpowering, gave her a giddy little chill of apprehension.
“Nice to meet you,” Lucien said. He could feel the girl’s trembles; she was shaking as if she were in the grips of a high fever.
“Do I scare you?” his voice sounded amused.
“No,” Angelica looked gravely up into his face, hypnotized by the magnetism of his eyes. “But I am nervous.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because…” Angelica began and then choked. She looked so pale she might faint, and when she finally spoke again her voice had dropped to a low breathless whisper, “… because somehow I want to convince you to spend the night with me.”
* * *
Sunset flamed and faded in a spectacular display of pyrotechnics that drew the partygoers out onto the marina’s wide decks. It was cool, and across the bay the city’s lights reflected like jewels across the rippling water.
Lucien took Angelica’s elbow and guided her along one of the concrete jetties until they were standing alone between the creaking mass of sleek game fishing boats and gleaming luxury yachts. He backed her up against a fire-hose cabinet and stared into her eyes for a long moment.
“I assume,” he said slowly, “that you don’t make a regular practice of throwing yourself at strange men.”
Angelica shook her head shamefully. “No, I don’t,” she confessed.
“Good.”
“Was it… was it that bad?”
“Yes,” Lucien said bluntly. “It really was.”
He searched her eyes and she looked away quickly. Her face paled and her expression pained. Her eyelids fluttered, and as her eyes glistened with tears she leaned back so her face was hidden by the darkness.
There was silence, and in it Lucien felt an unfamiliar, almost guilty rush of regret and remorse. He had expected her to fly at him with a snap of anger. He had not expected the tears.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you or cause a scene. It was stupid to think that you would be attracted… attracted to me.”
Lucien pulled the knot of his tie down an inch and sighed.
“I owe you an apology,” he said, even though there was harshness in the tone of his voice. He wasn’t accustomed to apologizing to anybody, and she sensed it.
Angelica dabbed at her eyes and sniffed. “Congratulations on your deal,” she said softly. “I’m sure you will get everything you deserve.”
Lucien narrowed his eyes suddenly. Was th
is it now? Was this the vicious, vengeful retort he had been expecting?
“I really do wish you great success,” Angelica added sincerely, and Lucien felt an absurd flood of relief. So, she wasn’t some nasty attention seeker. So what then?
Over Angelica’s shoulder, Lucien saw the cabin lights aboard one of the game fishing boats blink on and glow yellow in the darkening night. She was a 36’ cruiser, all fiberglass and gleaming stainless steel. Painted across the stern in bold black letters was the name, ‘Aquaholic’.
Behind heavily tinted cabin windows he saw a dark shadow moving and he lowered his voice before speaking again.
“If you’re looking for romance, you are trying to seduce the wrong man,” he said. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to his so he could see her eyes. “I don’t do long term relationships,” he said flatly, testing her. “So if you think seducing me is going to mean you can get your hands on – ”
Angelica’s eyes suddenly flew wide and she jerked her head away from his touch.
“You’re a bastard,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said. “I am because I have to be. But I’m honest. I don’t want you to think that bedding me is your ticket to wealth. It’s not.”
This man made Angelica uneasy. There was a raw animal intensity about him. The way he looked at her made her skin tingle. He did it now, glaring at her fiercely, trying to cower her; to drive her from him.
She turned away and looked across to the glistening lights of the city. She hugged herself about the shoulders for the fluttering breeze off the bay was as nagging through the thin material of her dress as the echo of her boyfriend’s cruel words.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. They were tears of self-pity, but also tears of humiliation and anger.
“I’m not interested in your money, Mr Lance. And I’m not looking for love, or even a relationship.”
Lucien frowned. He put his hand on the bare skin of her shoulder and she flinched as though he had burned and branded her.