Bound by the Millionaire's Ring

by Dani Collins

  The weight of that might have pushed him into grim introspection, but a sudden burst of laughter from Isidora yanked like a sweet hook in his heart. It wasn’t just the tinkling sound that turned his head. He wanted to catch the way her eyes sparkled.

  His breath stalled and he found himself smiling in reaction. Satisfaction and something more tender rolled through him. He hadn’t destroyed that light in her after all.

  “You knew!” she accused, squeezing his upper arm through his jacket and bumping into him at the same time, so he felt the press of her breast. “Did you call him?”

  “Who?”

  She waved at where Henri was coming toward them with Cinnia.

  “Ah.” It could be argued that all tuxedos looked alike, that pleated shirts were de rigueur with one, but he and his brother both owned several penguin costumes. Despite that, he would bet their collective fortune that the same designer label was sewn into every article they both wore tonight. And Henri had not shaved.

  They looked as they too often did—like mirror images. Their sisters regularly turned themselves out with individual looks unless they consciously chose to copy each other. Why the hell could he and Henri not manage it?

  As was often the case, Henri knew without a word being spoken what Ramon was thinking. He shrugged. “I had to get Cinnia out of the house before they woke up and noticed she was gone. There wasn’t time to shave.”

  Cinnia was a little more voluptuous than she had been before pregnancy, but it suited her. She rose on tiptoe to press her cheek to his and wrinkled her nose at his stubble. “He had a different shirt on. Then Rosalina spit up and he had to change.”

  “This is a setup, isn’t it?” Isidora looked between the identical men, skeptical. “I mean, it was a safe bet that Henri might not have shaved, but...”

  “I’ve seen it happen more times than I can count,” Cinnia assured her, then picked up her husband’s hand and said cheekily, “Be careful, Ramon. Henri wears a ring now.”

  Cinnia knew the engagement was a stunt. She didn’t speak so loudly she risked exposing the ruse, but none of them laughed. Isidora blushed and dropped her gaze. Ramon felt a familiar clench of protectiveness, but it was directed toward someone different, which was such a new sensation it was disconcerting. Like the sensitive skin beneath a freshly removed cast.

  “What—?” Cinnia began.

  Henri tucked her under his arm and spoke over her. “I’ll get the speeches done quickly. I want to dance with my wife while I have her to myself. Especially since we can’t stay long.” He squeezed her and drew her away.

  Isidora’s parents chose that moment to arrive, but the awkwardness only increased.

  “My angel! We’re so happy for you!” Francisca cried. “Have you set a date?”

  * * *

  “Hija preciosa,” Isidora’s father said as her mother moved along to fawn over Ramon.

  “Papa.” She leaned into her father’s barrel chest to accept his enveloping hug.

  “Estás bien?” He drew back to give her a searching look. Others had laughed at her puppy love for Ramon, but he never had. He didn’t know about That Day, but he knew her reservations against taking this position at Sauveterre International had been motivated by a strong desire to avoid Ramon.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. It felt like only a small lie. She was telling the truth in this moment, especially since she and Ramon had cleared the air in many ways, but she suspected that when this pretend engagement was over, she would not be “fine” by any stretch of the imagination.

  Because he wouldn’t marry her. That’s why Cinnia’s joke had landed so flatly, like a gob of mud on the bricks at their feet. She shook off the painful reminder and patted her father’s lapel.

  “How about you?” she asked with gentle concern. Every time her parents had reunited in the past, a painful breakup had soon followed, usually caused by her mother’s tendency to wander.

  Their experience was a cautionary tale, she reminded herself, thinking of all the things Ramon had said that replaced her hurt and anger with wistful yearning and a blind desire to believe in miracles.

  “Excelente,” her father assured her with confidence.

  Isidora wanted to believe him. As she watched them through the evening, staying close and sharing affectionate touches, she found herself hoping that this time they really would find happiness. But deep down, she knew she was just trying to believe in fairy-tale endings for her parents so she could buy in to one for herself.

  Like her engagement dinner in the Paris restaurant, this evening was agonizing in its perfection. The moonlight turned the gentle foam on the sea to a veil of lace. The late summer breeze caressed like down. Henri and her father said warm things about how close their families had always been. Some of her dearest friends raised their glasses, genuine in their happiness for her, believing she was marrying the man of her long-held dreams.

  When she looked up at Ramon, she almost believed it—which was so very dangerous, but how could she not be inexorably drawn to him? He was so confident, with features painted by a master into an archangel’s, mouth curled in private amusement, body disciplined and still while his restless gaze moved across all he surveyed.

  He was aloof and hard for a reason. Knowing those reasons only made caring for him more perilous. He wouldn’t bend and nothing could break him. She knew better than to expect anything but heartache from him.

  When they toasted with champagne, however, and the partygoers tapped their glasses, demanding a kiss from the happy couple, her heart raced with excitement. He took her in his arms and she knew that no matter what happened in the rest of her life, this man would always possess a piece of her heart.

  She tensed slightly, as she had before all of his kisses, bracing herself to hide the way she reacted. She feared the blaze of need that flared when he touched her. It had only grown worse with proximity. This man had always had the ability to pull her outside herself and leave her standing without defenses, bare to the world. In the last few weeks, each and every time they had kissed, no matter how generic the peck, she had wanted to sob out at the pleasure-pain of it.

  His embrace was too great a power to withstand, making her feel pried open.

  But not being near him, not feeling his touch, not kissing him, was worse.

  Until this moment, she had used fury and hurt to suppress all those feelings, but so much of her anger and agony was defused. She had little left to protect her. She was tingly and soft. Without conscious decision, she yielded.

  He noticed. His gaze flashed as he slid his hand along the bare skin exposed by the cutout of her gown. He tucked his fingertips beneath the fabric as he drew her into him, the sheer propriety of his action making her heart stumble.

  Other men had held her and kissed her, but no man except this one made the soft crash of their bodies feel like an implosion. All the energy was sucked from the surrounding area. It gathered tight inside her, releasing as a blast of excitement as his mouth claimed hers.

  She really hadn’t stopped thinking about their night. She tasted the memory on his lips, sipped again at the passion in the sweep of his tongue into her mouth. She hadn’t stopped thinking about it, either, and abandoned chagrin in favor of welcoming the sensual storm he sent whirling through her blood.

  In that moment, she knew he must possess her. It wasn’t a clear-headed decision to make love with him tonight. It was a far more primal knowledge that whether it was tonight, or next week, or some point in the future, she would lie down with this man. Had to. Her mouth opened wider to accept his plundering kiss. Her body yearned. She wrapped her arms around his neck and stopped fearing he would destroy her.

  She looked forward to it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  IF SHE HAD been a little bit drunk the last time she was in Ramon’s arms, tonight she was high on natural chemistry. Pheromones. The imprint of a particular man’s touch that never seemed to lift from her body even if it was only his eyes acros
s a dance floor.

  Not that he let other men monopolize her. No, he cut in shamelessly more than once, and reserved all the slow dances for himself. He said nothing, but he knew. He was too experienced not to.

  She felt obvious and callow, but she was supposed to be a besotted fiancée, right? No one knew she was a virgin, though, least of all the man who would relieve her of that label.

  They slipped away from their own party while it continued to rage, waiting until family was gone, then leaving the who’s who to their follies.

  With a signal, Ramon ensured the guards didn’t let anyone else onto their elevator. The men stood at the front, giving her and Ramon the privacy of their turned backs.

  Ramon didn’t draw her into a hot embrace, though. He leaned his shoulder into the wall and gently drew her into the loose cage of his hands on her waist. His one hand moved against her skin within the cutout. His gaze went to where he traced that lazy pattern.

  “I like this dress.”

  She choked out a laugh that sounded equally like a sob. The compliment was so bland. Seduce me.

  His expression was solemn. He lifted one bent knuckle to stroke up her throat, then caressed beneath her chin, the action surprisingly tender.

  The doors opened, startling her.

  Ramon linked their fingers as they walked to their room and waited for it to be checked. Then he drew her inside and released her.

  She stood for a moment in stasis, confused, aching, while he turned the lock behind her. Anxiety started to creep in at the edges of her consciousness. He was going to reject her. Again.

  “Be sure, Isidora.” The weight of his hands, solid and grounding, possessive, settled on her bare shoulders. For a moment, that’s all it was, then he stepped closer, so she felt the graze of his tuxedo jacket, then the movement of his breath as he spoke against her hair. “I want to give you pleasure. I want that so badly you can’t even imagine.” His head rested briefly against hers. “But I don’t want you to hate me after.”

  Because he wouldn’t marry her.

  She looked down at the clutch she held, then made herself move away from his touch to set the purse aside and face him. It wasn’t easy. His focus on her was like a live wire, pulsing electricity through her in painful beats.

  “I’m not a reckless person. I try not to do self-destructive things.” She’d grown up watching it and knew better. She would proceed very carefully, she told herself. She wouldn’t let herself get in too deep. “But I would always wonder.”

  She looked at where her hands tangled themselves together, not admitting the harder truth, that she feared she would never get over him until she had gone as far as she could with him.

  “I know it would only be an affair.” Her throat tightened, making the words rasp.

  He flinched and the green of his eyes cooled to silver before he looked away. “You deserve better.”

  “I know I do.”

  That brought his attention back with a flash of reassessment that made her heart race into the base of her throat.

  “I’m not a child, Ramon. Not anymore. You’re right that you never could have met my expectations back then. But I do know what I’m worth and what I should expect from a man now, as a woman.”

  She turned the ring on her finger.

  “I wouldn’t normally go into something so intimate without at least the hope of long-term or permanent, but...” She sighed. “Maybe I am still a little naive, but I want to believe that even though this...arrangement is temporary, that we can be friends after.”

  A beat of silence before he made a jagged sound that wasn’t quite a laugh.

  “I left naive a long time ago, but I want to believe that, too.”

  “Then, yes. I’m sure.” She held out her hands.

  * * *

  Ramon took her hands and pulled them behind his back, then his palm hooked the slenderness of her neck and he covered her mouth like he owned it.

  And thrilled when she let him. She surrendered exactly as she had when he had kissed her downstairs. He had wanted to feast on her then and let himself do it now, kissing her hard, deep, taking and taking, allowing his hunger to consume him.

  He wasn’t a brute. He would have backed off if she had signaled he was moving too fast, but she worked her hands against his back, pulling herself tighter into him.

  He caught fire under the friction, burning in a sudden conflagration that had only subsided since Monaco, waiting for the sough of her breath to burst into life again. He released her long enough to shed his jacket, dropping it to the floor, then growled like an animal as he caught her close and pressed her toward the bedroom.

  The bed.

  He was going too fast, he knew he was, but he’d never felt so greedy. So pressed for time. He wanted so much—the tendons in her neck, which made her gasp when he scraped his teeth there, the thrust of her mound against his aching erection, the fullness of her breasts weighing into his palms. Releasing her zip, he was able to draw down the one shoulder and find her braless, naked and firm, yet soft. So soft. And hot. Her skin scalded his hand as he cupped her breast, plumping it so her nipple sat high on the creamy swell. He bent to taste the hard bead, playing it against his tongue and loving her sob of pleasure.

  Yes. Pleasure. He wanted to ask what she liked, how he could intensify this for her, but his voice was gone. He was barely able to form a thought beyond his desire to make her writhe and cry out and shudder the way she had in his lap.

  Pressing her to sit on the bed, he climbed her gown up her thighs.

  She gasped and her hand closed around his wrist.

  “I only want to kiss you.” He leaned to cover her mouth again, penetrated her lips with his tongue and groaned as she sucked on it. She shivered under the caress of his fingers over her breast. He let his touch linger there as he lowered to his knees between hers, kissing her and kissing her while he caressed and stroked and finally moved his hands to rub up the insides of her thighs.

  When he found the silk between her legs and lightly stroked over it, she made a mewing sound, like music. He drew back to admire her swollen, parted lips, the dazed glow in her eyes, the way she bit her lip as he worked a finger behind the silk into heat. So much wet, slippery heat.

  He pressed his finger into her honeyed channel, nearly out of his mind with how soft and ready she was.

  She made a keening noise and her lashes fluttered. He stroked his thumb in a way that made her tighten all over, and she panted, “Oh, yes.”

  “Lie back,” he commanded, feeling like a god when she sank onto the mattress and threw her arm over her eyes.

  He worked black silk down her ivory thighs, taking his time unwrapping this gift. That’s exactly what she was, with her thatch of red-gold and her nervous twitch as he slid his arms beneath the weight of her thighs. Pink and perfumed and heady. He wanted to make her scream.

  Then he wanted to plunge into her and make her his. Indelibly.

  * * *

  Isidora was burning alive, driven crazy by the slide of Ramon’s tongue, the way he pleasured her with his hand. Her fist knotted in his hair and she pinched her thighs against his ears, her abdomen twisting as an orgasm contracted in her. She lifted into his mouth, crying out, not caring how abandoned she was. It was too good, too fiercely good.

  As her climax subsided, she lay there as a puddle of spent muscles and melted bones.

  He rose over her, gaze avid as he studied her while roughly stripping his clothes.

  She didn’t move, only had a distant thought that her dress was the wrong color. It should be white. This was supposed to be a sanctified moment, not something raw and primal, where her thighs still burned with the scrape of his beard and he carried a condom in his pocket so he could roll it on without stepping away.

  He pulled off her gown and pushed her higher on the bed as he covered her.

  “My shoes.”

  “I like them.” He guided her ankle to the small of his back, bit her earlobe and said s
omething dirty about wanting to be inside her.

  She had thought this moment would come on her wedding day, with declarations of love and a sweeter, more romantic deflowering.

  But as imperfect as this was, lying atop a made bed, a man who would never promise forever pushing her legs apart, she couldn’t deny she wanted this, too. She had never wanted anything so badly in her life.

  He moved his tip against her slick folds, parting and teasing until she moaned, “Ramon,” and lifted, offering herself.

  He muttered something against her mouth and kissed her as he found her opening. He pressed in with a firm, deep thrust, pelvis coming up tight against hers as an inner burn seared and made her gasp.

  He lifted his head, the haze from his eyes clearing. “Hurt?” He started to pull out.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered hurriedly, trying to draw his head into the crook of her neck. Her heel instinctively pushed against his buttock, keeping him from retreating.

  “Isidora,” he breathed, eyes closing.

  “Don’t say anything stupid, Ramon. Don’t—”

  His eyes opened and realization was in them. Something golden and amazed that made the connection more than physical. Profound. It was like he saw inside her soul, glanced once, reached out and took possession of it. She had nothing left to shield herself. Everything she was had become his. It terrified her.

  Something she couldn’t decipher moved behind his eyes. He said something that was too soft and stark to catch. Dismay?

  “Don’t say you want to stop.” Her voice was barely there.

  “I am not that noble.” He shifted, rocking their hips from side to side, settling deep again in a way that made her gasp. A little shudder went through her at the rush of sensations. Not pain, but acute sensitivity. Undeniable intimacy.

  There was no pretending she was swept away. It was real. Indelible.

  Yet strangely tender and sweet.

  He propped on his arms, cupping the sides of her head in his hands. “This does change the tempo.” He moved in a slow retreat and return, watching her. His eyes glittered, sharp and bright in the slanted light from the lamp. “I want to make it so good for you.”