“I’ll do it,” I say.
Chase nods. “Excellent. But remember: it is only for tonight. After that-.”
“-Yeah yeah, you’ll go back to being my boss and showing Ms. Bell who’s in control, and I’ll go back to the admin desk and hide in the shadows like usual. I understand, Mr. Strong.”
“Chase.”
“What?”
“Chase. You should be calling me by my first name if we’re to pull this off convincingly.”
“Chase.” I smile. The way the words touch on my lips - it sounds amazing to say out loud.
He snorts. “You really are an interesting girl, Melody.”
He takes my hand and begins to lead me out of the office. “Come.”
I pause again. “Wait! I don’t have a dress!”
“Then I better buy you one.”
He leads me to the end of the hall and summons the elevator.
“Mr. Strong, I mean Chase.”
“Yes?”
“You can’t buy me a dress.”
“Why not?”
“Because, you just can’t.”
He strokes a lock of my hair across my temple and tucks it behind my ear. “I can and I will. You will let me do whatever I deem necessary and I will give you a night you’ve dreamed of your entire life. Beautiful clothes, gorgeous jewellery, the envy of every woman in New York. And, of course, your sweet revenge. It shall be fun.”
The musky scent of his clean skin billows against my face, so full of power and seduction and pure want. He skin feels so hot against my own, his fingertips grazing the back of my ear.
I’ve never felt this way - a sense of longing and need consumes me, rough and hot and begging for his touch on my virgin body.
“Yes,” I say, my voice nothing more than a breathy whisper. “I’ll do anything you say.”
The elevator dings, but he holds my head, our eyes locked into each other as if the rest of the world has melted away. He brings my hand to his mouth and presses his sensuous lips on to my skin. My heart races as I feel his warm breath send shivers up my spine, and a flame ignites, begging to race throughout my body and consume every inch of me.
His dark green eyes bury into my soul and his lips curl into a smile.
“That’s my girl.”
CHAPTER TWO
Chase
The limousine’s door flies open and I’m blinded by the pounding flashbulbs of paparazzi cameras.
Chase! Chase! Over here! Mr. Strong!
They scream my name over the din as the evening mist rolls through the open door and seeps under my tuxedo. It is a September evening, and one hell of a cold one at that. I can feel the clammy fog dampen around my face.
I stare up at the Wiltshire Building - a towering skyscraper that escapes into the billowing clouds like a needle injecting the sky. Around the pinnacle, dark rain clouds bleed like ink and threaten a downpour of biblical proportions.
And I couldn’t be happier.
The cold is rough and hard and exactly what I need to face those bastard paparazzi - a sobering breath of fresh air to fool the people inside.
My feet hit the red carpet and I rise like a king, bulb upon bulb exploding in my face.
Strong! Strong! Chase! Hey! Over here!
My lips curve into a smile and I reach inside the limo to take Melody’s hand, but she’s cowering in the darkness like a scared mouse.
I keep my hand there for a moment and she finally takes it, and she steps out, every bit my queen.
Thank god for the cold slap of the weather. Anything to wake me up from the limo ride with Melody.
How could she not realise she’s beautiful? It pains me to understand how one woman can be so self-deceptive. Just the merest touch at the office and my body tightened. The desire was positively overwhelming, shooting through my veins and filling me with an intense need.
A need for her.
How could she not realise? The entire limo ride was like torture. Only inches between us but impossible to touch.
Her arm wraps around mine with the grace of a princess, and I feel the gentle pressure of her palm against my sleeve, and the warmth of her touch against my jacket.
The delight makes me shiver, and I look down at my date.
She’s come a long way from the frightened clerk too petrified to show her face and leave the shadows of the office. She tried her best to remain unnoticed, but it was pointless.
Because I noticed her. How could I not? Those rosy cheeks and auburn hair. Beautiful. And how she’d wear such shapeless dresses, like a country bumpkin just off the first morning train into the city - naive and clueless, and little more than a teenager.
I could tell even then this was her first job since college. The way she’d panic whenever our paths would cross and retreat into a nearby office was very interesting. Pulling her application form, I saw nothing out of the ordinary except a sparse work history, but that was to be expected. She had only been in New York for three months and there wasn’t much else to her. A pretty forgettable girl.
But that was no more.
To think, I had originally planned to teach Mercedes that she was easily replaceable. And what better example could I use than a plain Jane admin clerk, plump and innocent.
Boy, was I wrong.
Even now, it stuns me to think how Melody could have eluded me for so long.
All it took was a personal stylist to pour Melody into a slinky black dress, for her to look the height of fashion. The mere thought of how stunning she looks in that backless gown, how it teases any man to sheer unparalleled sexual wanting by the way the low cut clings to her ample breasts, almost revealing too much.
And now I realise that to describe her as plump was a complete miscalculation on my part. What her unattractive dresses hid at the office was a perfect curvy body - buxom breasts and wide hips to make the perfect balance to her small waist. It was a classic figure she had - like a 50s Hollywood starlet. The sort of figure that has driven men wild for generations. Far more desirable than the skinny twigs I’m forced to plaster on to billboards in the name of company image. No, Melody was a real woman: purely feminine.
I glance at her now as we walk up the red carpet and a droplet of sweat drips down my temple.
But her figure does nothing to match the beauty of her face. Not only is she anything but plain, but she possesses that natural beauty that, I know from experience, is rare upon so many women. And now, after the professional make up and style team have had their way with her, she positively glows. The dark mascara under those intense brown eyes, the way her beautiful auburn locks tumble down and curl sensually over her naked back, and the way the lipstick accentuates the ravishing nature of her full lips...
She is incredible. An absolute beauty, so gorgeous and sexy that I cannot fathom how she could remain under my radar for so long. But no more. Now she is the person she was meant to be.
And I want her.
I lead her down the red velvet carpet and paparazzi scream out questions.
Strong! Strong! Who is this?
Where’s Mercedes?
Who’s the sex bomb?
Miss! Miss! How’s it feel being on Chase Strong’s arm?
I give them an offhand wave and a brief smile. But Melody backs up, wide eyed and worry painting her face.
She’s shivering.
Bastards. All they do is pry and assault my presence, day after day. But whether it’s outside my Tuscan villa or below my penthouse in New York City, I’ve grown very accustomed to being mobbed by their intrusion. You cannot be a successful businessman and adventurous playboy without the heat of their cameras scorching the back of your neck. But I am used to it - Melody is an innocent young girl.
“Chase,” whispers Melody. “Please, I can’t.”
I brush off the paparazzi with a swift hand motion. “I think that’s enough, gentlemen.”
They don’t listen.
Melody’s palm clasps my bicep. I hold her tight and briskly e
scort her past the security and into the reprieve of the building’s dazzling foyer.
She stares at the floor, still shivering.
“Ignore them,” I say. “They’re nothing but vultures.”
“All those people, they were just gawking at me.”
I place my finger under her chin and lift her head so our eyes meet. “Can you blame them?”
Her gorgeous eyes are so large and frightened, I feel a pang in my gut and my heart twists.
“If you need to go back and have them take pictures, then you should go ahead. Forget about me if that’s what you need to do,” says Melody.
“And what sort of gentleman would leave his beautiful date alone to have his picture taken?”
“I just meant, if you needed publicity, or whatever. For the charity.”
I bite my lip. She has a point. The intention of tonight was to take my very well documented image and connections and use them to leverage donations for this Leukemia charity. Certainly a worthy cause, and the extra publicity it would offer the label would be unparalleled.
But there was no way Melody could manage another minute outside with those cretins. Even at times, I find it difficult.
“Get me through this, Chase,” she says. “Please, just get me through this.”
I give her a knowing smile and nod. “Let’s go inside.”
She swallows so hard I can hear it, but there is gratitude in her face.
“You know,” I say, “every other woman I’ve dated would have loved being on display for every magazine in the country... Revelled in it, even.”
“Well, I guess, I’m not like any other woman you’ve dated.” She fidgets with her neckline.
“No,” I say, “I guess you’re not.”
She holds me tighter and a blazing heat rockets through me.
I want to touch her, more than anything. The way her fingers wrap around my arm fills me with carnal desire. My mind begs me to rip the dress apart with my bare hands and cover her amazing body with my lips, to lick and nibble her breasts and fondle her hair and stoke every inch of her, all the way down her soft thighs... and further down to her...
I inhale a sharp sobering breath.
No. This is wrong. Very wrong.
She’s an employee. Not to mention, she’s so innocent and only clinging to me out of a broken heart. I never screw with women on the rebound - it’s unseemly. Especially not when there’s so many other beautiful women out there who are far too easy to possess.
Melody is completely off limits. Sex with her would be complicated and very risky, to me and to my business. I cannot allow myself to feel this desire for her, no matter how much it blinds me.
Even if she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
But is she? Maybe my lust and desire for her is clouding my judgment and making me see a treasure more glistening than reality would have me believe.
I look down her curvy body and my skin prickles. The way the black fabric of the dress hugs those breasts, and the sensual curve of her neck up to that pale skin of her face, framed by those gorgeous locks of soft auburn hair...
No, I’m right.
The desire I have for her is wrong and forbidden, and part of me doesn’t care.
Why could I not take an employee as a lover?
Her eyes dart back to the floor.
“You’re beautiful, Melody.”
She shakes her head. “I wish you would stop saying that.”
How can she not realise her beauty? It blows me away every time. Any other employee would have used such aesthetically pleasing looks to seek attention from her bosses. They would have used it to climb the corporate ladder and live a life of spoils off every wealthy man in my empire. Especially me.
“I’m not beautiful,” she says.
I narrow my eyes. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“No, no, you’re not, not really, I mean. You’re just being nice.”
“Melody, look at me.”
Her face rises and I fix her deep wonderful eyes to my own.
“Let me tell you something about me. I don’t do pity dates. If you are here on a date with me it is because I truly believe you are worthy of my standard. And my standard happens to be beautiful women. And it is a high standard. I look at you now, and no one can compare.”
The frustration and worry drips away from her face, replaced with a look of innocence and wonder.
“You... you really think I’m nice looking?”
“Nice looking?” I shake my head in amazement. “You are beautiful. No ifs and buts and anything else. You are truly beautiful, my princess.”
She blushes a hot red and for a second I realise just how young she really is. Her application said nineteen, but there are so many different types of nineteen year olds out there - some flirty and sexual and devil may care.
And some were like Melody. Quiet and reserved and innocent.
A sense of empathy warms me - I was once like her. I remember a time when my open heart caused me to be reckless in the name of being accepted and loved. A sharp awakening forced me out of that place, but I still remember how it felt.
And to see Melody act so young, it not only fills me with a sense of nostalgia, but also a peculiar longing to embrace her in my arms and protect her from this world.
I push the feeling down deep inside where it can no longer haunt me and tempt me. There is no possible way I could go through tonight feeling this way about her and have things not fall apart.
She lifts her head up and her eyes sparkle in the radiant light of the crystal chandelier.
“Princess?” she says, her face lit up with a smile so breathtaking that my heart summersaults in my chest.
“My princess.” I bring her hand to mine and kiss it gently. “I told you that every woman would be envious if you accompanied me to this ball. But I failed to mention that every man will be consumed by jealousy for me when they see you on my arm.”
She grins uncontrollably, her cheeks bright as rubies against her fair skin. “Wow. You really know how to lay it on nice and thick, don’t you?”
I grin back, our eyes locked together like magnets.
A powerful force races through my body like an earthquake.
Every time I look at her, her beauty confounds me again and again; every time I see her is like the first time, and her visage never fails to blow me away. She truly has the most perfect combination of sweetness and sex, lush and full lips so sensual and wanting, and curves that make my body cry out in desire, deep into the most fathomless pit of my heart.
No, that’s silly. Not my heart. It is mere lust that is making me feel this way - lust so controlling and all consuming that it masquerades as more. But that is the nature of wild animal-like desire on a man’s mind.
Love is a fallacy. Sex is only the real truth between men and women.
Sex with Melody is all I want. Nothing more.
But I refuse to act on it. I am not lust’s slave. I am a grown man and a powerful one at that. Who else has built a media empire before they’re even thirty? Who else is worth so much money that it is uncountable? No one controls me but me.
And I am done with one-night stands.
Once Mercedes realises she cannot control me, she will fall back into my arms and then I shall make it a point to propose like she expected. But on my terms.
She’ll make a fine trophy wife. I may not love her and she may not love me, but marriage for people like us isn’t about love - it’s about consolidating power and influence. Bella Music has a stranglehold on the European market, and as the owner’s daughter, our marriage would be the perfect opportunity for both her family and mine to extend our empire.
It makes complete sense both practically and pragmatically. What does love have to do with anything?
But I will propose when I’m good and ready, not when it suits her and especially not when it suits her father. I know he pressured her into assaulting me with rapid fire questions earlier this evening
in the limo ride to my office.
Chase, darling, when are you going to propose? It’s been months and daddy’s getting frustrated.
But then again, she was enough of a self-entitled brat that maybe I should have expected her ultimatum.
Do it. Now. I refuse to wait any longer. If you don’t then I’m leaving and I’m finding someone else. You think you’re the only hot guy out there that wants what I’ve got. I’m fucking stunning and I’m famous and I’ve got legions of fans in every corner of the globe. Every powerful man out there is gagging to have me so you should be fucking grateful I’m here with you. Propose now, or I walk.
Suffice to say, she wasn’t happy when the limo door flew open a minute later and I ordered her to step out on to the curb.
No body gives me an ultimatum. Especially not a jumped up daddy’s girl who only has a singing career because her father owns a record company.
The relief of freedom washes over me like a cool breeze.
The day had certainly started off interesting, but now, here with Melody, it is becoming more enjoyable and surprising by the second. I cannot wait to see what else the night has in store.
Arm in arm, I lead Melody through the foyer and to the top of the stairs that overlooks the Wiltshire ballroom. We pause for a moment and drink in the sight - hundreds of guests dancing and singing and gossiping, sipping drinks under the gigantic crystal chandeliers, exquisite paintings hanging from every wall, all whilst the band continues to play.
Melody holds me close, but I see a true smile on her lips. As her eyes take in the room from our vantage point, a few people spot us above watching the crowd.
A hush descends and slowly every person in the enormous ball turns to us and stares.
“They’re doing it again,” whispers Melody, trying her hardest to not break her nervous smile.
“Are you ready?”
She nods.
“Come. Let me show you my world.”
We descend the steps and enter the dense throng.
As we stroll across the ballroom, I turn to each guest in turn and offer my thanks. Some I chat lightly with: the stockholders enquire for trading tips, board members offering their own gratitude for my part in the event, and my various movie star and singer friends. The mayor shakes my hand and raises a glass of champagne, grinning as he admires Melody under my arm. The other women greet me and flirt, tossing their hair back and stroking the champagne flutes, as they always do. But this time, they follow this with gawking and glaring at Melody by my side, a look of dispassionate envy on their faces.
Perfect Harmony Page 3