“What if they return?” she whispered. His hand reached her panties’ edge, and then hooked under the lace.
Lips pressed to her neck’s hollow, he whispered, “Do you want me to stop?” One tug and the flimsy silk tore at her hips and he was holding her panties, rendering her speechless. “Or inside you?” he said.
Francesca trembled, positively greedy for more, desperate to run from her father’s office so they could find privacy. She glanced at the door. How mad would her father be if they left? “They’ll return any minute.”
“That’s not what I asked.” He pressed her panties to his lips, before tucking them into his pocket. Her lips parted, she searched his gaze, wondering what he’d demand to be convinced she wanted him. His palm settled on her waist, and then moved down to her hip, resting on her naked thigh. This time, there were no panties in his way as his hand moved upward. She waited, breathlessly, to see what he’d do. And the waiting drove her wild with impatience…with the possibilities his gaze promised.
“I…Caleb, I…” She sighed, not knowing how to get what she wanted without surrendering her pride…as his hand inched higher. He opened his mouth as his lips drew near and then he froze. His mouth closed with a click of his teeth, and he inhaled sharply through his nose, the muscles of his jaw working overtime.
He pushed her to arm’s length. “I should have known better. There isn’t any simmer with you, Francesca, just straight to boil.” He rearranged her dress, her hair, and did his best to hide the evidence of his arousal.
She didn’t understand. This felt too much like rejection. He must have seen her confusion, because he shook his head, groaned, and then dropped a drugging kiss on her lips. His reluctance to step back, his tongue doing its magic, it all made her knees grow weak. The man was sending her mixed signals, and confusing the hell out of her.
Once he’d thoroughly devastated her composure, he broke the kiss, groaning quietly as he dropped his forehead to hers, squeezing his eyes shut. “When I take you, Francesca, you can be shit sure it won’t be in daddy’s office.”
“But—” What did that mean? So he wasn’t put off by her father’s talk of arranged marriage?
He stood tall, stepping back, his eyes wide open now, gazing from her thighs, to her waist, her breasts, but instead of succumbing to temptation, he took a resolute, steadying breath that culminated in a narrowing of his eyes. “School your expression, sweetheart. My control is paper thin, and I’d sacrifice a fortune to be inside you right now, so show some self-preservation, or at least take pity on mine.” He put his hands on his hips and squeezed his eyes shut again, giving every indication he was in pain.
Francesca glanced at the door, dazed. She didn’t want to stay here and sit through another dressing-down from her father. She stepped closer to Caleb’s imposing body, pressing against him. When he gripped her shoulder, as if to set her aside, she panicked and covered his arousal with her palm, holding him. His whole body tightened as if she’d flipped a switch and his eyes widened, losing their focus. From the looks of him, Caleb would agree to anything right now. It stunned her. Hell, it aroused her to a whole new level. This was Caleb Smith, after all, and she was just…well, Francesca. “Are you for real?”
Caleb took a ragged breath and Francesca had no doubt whatsoever that he was about to take her right there, right now, and it didn’t matter that she was in her daddy’s office.
The doorknob turned. Caleb pivoted, turning his back to the door just as her father walked in.
“Sorry about the wait.” Hamilton and his entourage settled in their earlier spots. Her father sat behind his desk, flicking ash off his smelly cigar into a cut glass ashtray. “Smith, you can leave now. My daughter and I need to have a serious conversation before the big announcement, and then we’ll gather at the party to celebrate. Have a drink for me, will you?” Francesca couldn’t remember the last time her father was this affable.
“Announcement?” She swallowed hard, unable to disguise her breathy tone. A glance at Caleb didn’t help. It just made her feel more befuddled. He was hiding his thoughts, but she saw tenseness around his mouth, and wondered if it was due to contract worries or that she wasn’t wearing panties. It was hard not to wiggle, because she’d never been so wet and swollen between her legs before, and she wanted to be alone with him again.
Caleb held her gaze and nodded once. Commiserating? Whatever, he hesitated to leave long enough where, for a moment, she thought he wouldn’t leave. Then he walked to the door, and she was bereft, torn between going with him and her father’s silent demand for attention.
Hamilton indicated Brent Levine with a tilt of his head. “Levine agreed to marry you, Francesca. I’ve chosen my successor.” The statement hit her like a palm to the forehead. Then she heard a ringing in her ears, and a vague fogginess of vision couldn’t be blinked away.
“No,” she said.
“Stop, Francesca.” Her father’s shoulders slumped, as if he wasn’t up for her arguing. “We’ve been over this. My decision is final.”
Brent stepped to her side, smiling. He took Francesca’s hand, the guy who was probably betraying her father. She was so upset she could barely breathe. Caleb. She sought him out near the door, unable to move with Brent still holding her hand. She and Caleb should have run when they could. Caleb lingered, holding her gaze, frozen in place.
He’d given her father an ultimatum: agree to the contract or he’d walk. Her father obviously wasn’t signing, so Caleb would move on, find another company, another contract. And her father was playing hardball with her, as well, as Caleb had predicted, and if this was the opening salvo, what else did he have up his sleeve?
“Francesca?” Brent tugged her closer, despite her struggle to free her hand. “Will you marry me?” His buzzed-cut hair, scruffy jaw, and large brown eyes had come to represent strength to Francesca, and a hunger for power. His scar, pulling his lip into a perpetual sneer, represented his marked cruelty. Brent was the meanest bastard her father could find.
She shook her head. “No.”
Hamilton rubbed his forehead as if he suffered a headache. “Francesca, I don’t have time to—”
She felt light-headed. “No.” She tugged her hand harder this time, taking Brent unawares. He released her, donning a conciliatory smile. “I…can’t,” she said. It was impossible to even pretend, to be kind and graciously decline. Not with Brent. He’d…he’d touch her.
“You will,” her father said. “It’s the only way.” He was doubling down on his trust in Brent. So even if Francesca agreed to marry the man, she’d be no safer than she was now. But explain that to her father, a man who took no one’s advice.
Suddenly, running seemed her only option.
“Shit.” Caleb turned and grabbed the doorknob with such force, it created a bang that echoed in the room. Whatever had frozen him in place was gone now, and he’d been goosed into action.
She stepped back, and back, and back again, keeping her eyes on Brent and her father, lest they try to stop her. Caleb had been right…reality had been on the other side of the door. Mrs. Brent Levine? They should have locked the door. Or run away. Because there was no arguing with her father’s cold hard facts when her one defense was her feelings.
Brent’s smile faded as he followed her, hand extended to grab her. Francesca panicked and fell backward, bumping into something. Someone. From the size and scent, it was Caleb catching her. Hope bloomed. He hadn’t left. She turned her head, hoping he’d be her partner in crime, to run away. Then she was in his embrace, bent backward over his arm, his mouth covering hers. Francesca kissed him back without a second thought, wrapping her hand around his neck.
But this wasn’t one of Caleb’s toe-curling kisses. It was a claiming, for public consumption. When he broke the kiss, his gaze locked with hers, revealing his determination…his calculation.
“Levine can’t have her.” His damaged throat added threatening weight to his words, and suddenly, Brent wasn’t the mea
nest bastard in the room. Caleb was. He titled his head up, locking gazes with her father. “She’s mine.” Mine. Shocked, Francesca realized she was watching Caleb Smith apply for a job.
Chapter Five
Caleb scowled at Hamilton, projecting his best imitation of confidence. Yet all he could think was what the fuck am I doing? Caleb should have kept his mouth shut, seized on Francesca’s having unfettered access to Levine, and been grateful Hamilton forced this pairing. It escalated the Feds’ plan and was a potential intel bonanza. He’d already seeded the traitor narrative, so she’d be receptive to spying on Levine, if only to protect her father.
But Hamilton didn’t sign the fucking contract.
Without the contract, he had no excuse to be at the mansion. He’d just be the skeevy guy nosing around an engaged socialite. Her guards would report it to Hamilton, who would put a stop to it. All of these dominoes fell within moments of each other, leaving Caleb to make a choice: bail on the operation, or accommodate the new perimeters. It was all or nothing. He needed to supplant Levine, win Francesca, and find the ledger a different way, because he was moments away from getting tossed to the curb…if not worse.
Unfortunately, Francesca was squirming in his arms, and not in a good way. She was pissed. He gave her a little squeeze. “Shh. Let me handle this.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Smith, you’re insane.” Levine signaled the armed men, who palmed their holstered guns.
“I am a human being, not a chess piece!” Francesca slapped his shoulder as Hamilton’s expression grew more suspicious by the moment.
Caleb turned his scowl on Francesca. “Will you stop!” Her bottom lip jutted, and he felt for her, but… “He doesn’t get to touch you.” Her surprise mirrored his own, because truer words were never spoken. Reining in his panic, he forced himself to lower his voice to a whisper. “I don’t think I could bear it.”
The tension left her body, and her gaze fell to his lips. Ignoring the others in the room, she whispered back, “What makes you think I’d choose you over Brent? I know you even less.”
Her blush revealed the complexity of her declaration. They both knew it wasn’t that simple, but her words highlighted his hubris. What, indeed? It never occurred to him that Francesca would reject him over Levine. What organ had Caleb been thinking with?
Everyone in the room glared, but Hamilton and Levine were positively livid. Understandably. Levine would feel threatened and Hamilton thwarted. And there Caleb stood, holding Francesca, feeling like his dick was out.
“Francesca.” Hamilton’s tone was chilling. “Step away from Smith.”
Caleb mentally flipped through photos of Hamilton’s known enemies, and knew he’d just been added to the list. Hamilton wanted him gone already; not signing Caleb’s contract made that loud and clear. It galled that the operation had gone south so quickly and all roads now led to failure, but Caleb recognized it was time to bail. He’d failed. By rejecting him, Francesca was out of reach, too. Levine now had her and the ledger, and soon would control Hamilton’s empire.
Fuck.
Caleb dropped his arm from around her waist. “Go,” he said.
She straightened but didn’t move from his side. Then she frowned at her father and Levine, her defiance on full display.
Hamilton slapped his palm on his desk, scowling. “Are you happy now? You’ve made a scene.” The tension in the room grew, and too many hands were lingering by their holstered weapons.
“Francesca,” Caleb whispered. “Go back to the party.”
He’d leave soon after, never to see her again, but he couldn’t think about that now, because it made him feel like a fool. He’d deal with his stupidity after he tried to smooth things out with Hamilton. The guy reneged on their deal, so Caleb had leverage…if he didn’t bust the guy’s balls on some level he’d be seen as weak, and that would be seen as out of character, therefore suspect.
But Francesca didn’t walk out. She took a step toward her father. “I know you’re trying to protect me.”
“I am,” he said. “This marriage will allow you to lead a life of your choosing. Without protection, you’ll be hunted for…” He shook his head. “I’m keeping you safe, Francesca. Obey me on this.”
“No,” she said.
Her response triggered Levine like a red cape to a bull. He hurried toward Francesca, baring his teeth, fists at his side. Caleb stepped between them, and Levine stopped instantly, as if he’d walked into a wall. Caleb felt Francesca peek around him, her delicate little hand pressed against his back.
“This is bullshit!” Levine looked between Caleb and her.
Hamilton sighed. “Fine, Francesca. Then you choose. Reality isn’t altered because you find it distasteful. My business requires a successor, and you need someone powerful enough to keep the wolves at bay,” he said. “Levine has spent years training to succeed me. He’s earned the position.” Levine nodded, glaring at Caleb.
“He hasn’t earned me,” Francesca said. “Give him the company. Leave me out of this.”
Levine’s scarred lip twitched as he struggled to rein in his rage. Holding his hand out to her, he fashioned an expression resembling a smile. “You know me, Francesca. Your father chose me. I’ll be a good husband, I promise.”
Hamilton poured scotch into the remaining empty glass on his desk, replacing the one he’d thrown against the wall. He took a sip and set the glass on his desk. “There is no more time to coddle you, Francesca. Choose.”
Caleb stepped to the side, forcing Francesca to face her father and Levine. Keeping his back to the room’s occupants, with their glares and guns, he held his palm upward, offering it to Francesca. She grimaced, clearly unwilling to choose anyone. But Caleb had one chance to recover his operation, and that meant she needed to choose him, and…he couldn’t bear the thought of Levine touching one hair on her head.
“Dammit, Francesca.” Caleb allowed his eyes to be a window into his thoughts, held her gaze, and received stone-cold anger for his troubles. “Choose me.”
She slapped her hand in his, and then tilted her head, indicating the floor. “Get down on one knee.” She was still furious, but he saw her composure cracking. Her tender heart was breaking.
Caleb second-guessed using her, glanced at her father and saw his triumph. Triumph? Caleb’s heart raced. Hamilton wanted Francesca to choose me?
Luring him to the mansion, to Francesca, with promises of a contract? Teasing him by dangling her in his face, having her flirt with him all week long. Then the party, leaving them alone with the topic of marriage in the air? There were clues enough that they were being played, but…Caleb still needed an excuse to be at the mansion, and Francesca still needed a fiancé. He was boxed in.
Caleb dropped to one knee. “Francesca Hamilton, will you marry me?”
Her lips drew into a tight line, her expression bleak. “Yes, Caleb. Thank you for the courtesy of asking.” Then she released his hand and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Triggering a whole new set of dominoes to fall.
Harris Tate drew his gun and clicked a suppressor onto its muzzle. Hamilton was smiling with anticipation. And Levine was furious, red in the face. Staying on one knee, because it brought his ankle holsters within reach, Caleb calculated that the odds of outshooting six gunmen were slim, but he kept his fingers loose in case it was his one chance at survival. “Let’s talk about this.”
Levine snickered. “Begging for your life?”
Hamilton laughed. “Welcome to the family, Smith.”
Tate aimed and shot Levine, whose head whipped back. Pink mist billowed behind him, staining the wall. Caleb suppressed a flinch best he could, and froze his features in place as he witnessed Levine’s body crumble to the floor. What. The. Fuck.
Tate signaled security with a nod of his head, and then removed his suppressor, holstering the gun. Security rushed to Levine’s body and carried him out a back door Caleb had assumed was a closet.
Caleb stood as Tate stepped to Hamilton’s side. Then it hit him. This whole scene…the choice between him and Levine, the execution, down to body disposal, was planned in advance. Maybe. Or maybe the one variable was whose body would be carried away. His or Levine’s.
Reality was, Caleb was engaged to Francesca and successor to Hamilton’s company, and his duplicitous life had now reached a new level of insanity. But hell, what was one more layer of lies? Doing his best to project don’t give a fuck, he nodded to Hamilton.
“Why, thank you, and what a wonderful welcome it is,” Caleb growled.
Hamilton pursed his lips, not impressed by Caleb’s swagger. “I signed the contract and my lawyers have wired the money into your account.” He puffed on his cigar. “The marriage license and prenuptial agreement are being prepared as we speak. You’ll have time enough to read it before the big day. I want a wedding. This has to be advertised, so it will be big enough to make the papers. This will be billed as a love match. So sell it. Francesca will be a handful, but she’s a good girl. She won’t give you much trouble.” He flicked ash into the tray and indicated Tate with a tilt of his head. “Tate is loyal to whoever pays his salary. Pay him well, and he’ll serve you well. He’s the one who discovered Levine spread rumors of my ill health, hoping to force my hand. It did.” Hamilton smiled. “But he didn’t see you coming, did he? You made him…superfluous.” He seemed to gather his thoughts. “Get her with child quickly. I found that stops them from leaving you.” Caleb was positive that advice to a prospective son-in-law wouldn’t make it into any modern parenting handbook, but he’d come to discover that Hamilton worked from his own set of rules. “She’ll expect you to love her.”
“You don’t think I can?” The words left Caleb’s mouth unbidden.
Hamilton’s lip curled. “A romantic? Maybe you and Francesca have more in common than I’d supposed. In the end, though, the business is what’s important.” He leaned his elbows on the desk, studying Caleb. “I’m surprised you volunteered. In fact, of all the men I invited this week, you were the only surprise. I didn’t think you’d come,” he said. “Was, in fact, told you wouldn’t.”
Seduced by Sin (Unlikely Hero) Page 6