“He made his intentions with regards to you quite clear to me last night at Midnight Blue.”
“Oh, really?” I lifted a questioning eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Giovanni demanded I back the fuck off.”
Why didn’t that surprise me? I gazed at Damon with more than a little curiosity. “And yet you still came tonight.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.” The situation merited quiet contemplation. I couldn’t help but wonder why Damon would take the trouble. We’d already had our one night stand. “Why bother? He can make your life hell.”
“You underestimate your allure,” Damon said, his eyes dropping to rest on my mouth. “You offered one more night.” He captured my gaze again. “And I have every intention of enjoying it.”
Well, fuck. I was pretty sure my panties were soaked after his declaration. There wasn’t much hotter than a gorgeous man dreaming about his cock buried in my throat. I had half a mind to kneel before him right then and there to prove I was worth the trouble.
Damon glanced out the window at the courtyard, breaking the intense moment. “It’s nice here. Reminds me of the place I had in college. Does it come with a parking garage?”
Parking garage? Whoa. Back up. He used to live in a studio apartment while attending college?
I nodded in answer to his question and blurted, “You weren’t always rich?”
His eyes narrowed on me. Why had I asked that question? It was stupid. Irrelevant. A bit snobby even. “Sorry,” I said, rubbing my hand at the base of my neck. “That was rude of me.”
He set Brandy on the floor and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “No, I didn’t grow up with money. Does that matter, Samantha?”
The stubborn set of his jaw gave me the impression that my answer mattered. A lot. The air between us thickened with tension. Didn’t he know how sexy he was and that I’d want him no matter where he came from? His eyes bore into mine with such raw intensity, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was somehow vulnerable in that moment. Pressure built in my chest and I struggled to swallow past the lump in my throat. I ached for him to see me as the strong, independent woman I’d become over the last year and not the spoiled, rich brat I had once been.
Splaying my hands out, I gestured to my home. “Does it look like I care about money, Damon?”
He lifted his brow and snatched my expired black card off one of the side tables – the one I kept out in the open as a constant reminder of my desire to become self-sufficient. “Most people who come from money, care about money.”
I’m not even sure he meant for me to hear his words, they were so soft. His gaze followed his finger as it trailed across my name on the face of the credit card, and then he looked up.
“You come from money. I spent time with your brother last night at the club. It was very”—he paused and tilted his head—“enlightening.”
I rolled my eyes. “I bet.”
“Why did you leave it all?” He set the card back on the side table. “Why not go back to your comfortable life in New York? Back to Giovanni’s loving arms.”
A derisive snort ripped out of me and I cupped my hand over my mouth, holding in the string of expletives dancing on the tip of my tongue. My comfortable life in New York? He had no fucking clue, and I wasn’t in the mood to set him straight. “That’s none of your business.”
“You’re right,” he said, coming to stand directly in front of me. He looped an arm around my waist and tugged me closer until the heat of his body pressed against mine. His stony expression was dark and immovable. “But I still want to know.”
That might be, but it didn’t mean I was going to tell him. So far, he hadn’t proven himself to be any different than every other man in my life, demanding to have a piece of me. “What makes you think my life in New York would be comfortable?”
“You looked very comfortable with Giovanni last night,” Damon said in a low voice. “Telling jokes. Making him laugh out loud.”
His midnight blue eyes glazed over with some unnamed emotion as he stared at me with a frown turning down the corners of his sensuous lips.
Holy shit. My eyes widened. “Are you jealous?”
“I don’t appreciate being played for a fool.” He growled and took a step back. “One night you’re trembling in my arms with fear, and the next you’re mooning over him. Which is it, Samantha? Do you fear him or love him?”
My mouth dropped open at his audacity. I stabbed him in the chest with my finger. “You have a lot of nerve. But that shouldn’t surprise me; wealthy, arrogant men often do! Life isn’t as black and white as you’d like to paint it with the broad strokes of your brush. I was not mooning over Giovanni last night. I was doing my fucking job and following your goddamned rules. Or have you conveniently forgotten them?”
His blank stare made me want to scream. Did he not know his own damned rules?
“Rule number eight,” I nearly shouted. “Do you need me to recite it for you? I have them all memorized. And do you know why? Because I love my job, and I can’t afford to lose it.”
“Leave your baggage at home,” he said in an even voice. “While at Midnight Blue, you will smile and interact pleasantly with all customers, at all times. No exceptions.” He ran both hands through his hair and blew out an uneven breath. “Samantha—”
“It’s all right,” I said, cutting him off. Both of our tempers had gotten the best of us and I didn’t want to waste any more energy thinking or talking about my ex-fiancé. “I’m not blind. I can see how it must’ve looked to others. But believe me, it wasn’t a fun conversation. Nor was it funny. Leave it to Giovanni to find humor in it.”
Damon grabbed my hand and yanked me toward him, cupping his other hand around my neck. “I was jealous,” he whispered, and then slammed his mouth against mine.
His lips were demanding and his tongue relentless in his need to claim me, taking what he wanted and everything I had to give. Meeting the fierce strokes head on, I relished his taste and swooned in his delicious scent. I’d been dreaming of this moment since our last kiss and nothing was going to stop me from showing him exactly how much I wanted to be in his arms. I explored his chest, all over his washboard stomach, and snuck my hands around his back to cup his ass. Feeling and tasting him was a heady mixture that left me aching with need and gasping for breath.
When our lips finally parted, he leaned his forehead against mine, cradling my face in his hands. The heaving of his chest rubbed against my taut nipples. He was so fucking enticing, even when he wasn’t trying.
“Don’t be jealous.” I nipped at his bottom lip, letting him have a taste of my frustration. How could Damon ever think I would prefer Giovanni to him? “He means nothing to me.”
“Why did you leave him?”
“Does it matter?” I asked with a groan.
He smiled. “No.”
“But you’d still like to know.”
He nodded.
And though my father was the only person who knew my reasons, I gazed into Damon’s eyes and felt compelled to tell him. Maybe some small part of me knew he wouldn’t judge me. Whatever it was…I let him in on the hard, cold truth.
“Giovanni wanted me to fuck his business partners in exchange for closing deals.” I couldn’t look Damon in the eyes as I told him the rest, because there was a small granule of truth in Giovanni’s accusation that gnawed at my gut. Resting my cheek against Damon’s chest, I continued. “As Giovanni so eloquently put it last night ‘You spread your legs readily enough for strangers. Why not my business partners?’”
Damon stiffened and cursed. “That filthy motherfucker.” He held me tighter and kissed the top of my head. “You’re not a whore, Samantha. What kind of monster finds humor in that discussion?”
I shrugged. “I told him the last time I checked, prostitution is still illegal.”
Damon’s chest rumbled against me and I lean
ed backed, narrowing my eyes on his. They gleamed with laughter. The dam finally burst and he laughed out loud.
I broke away from his hold and folded my arms, shaking my head.
“Sorry, but that’s pretty damn funny,” he said, reaching for my hand and threading his fingers through mine. “The perfect response to an asshole comment.” He stepped closer and squeezed my fingers. “I love your smart mouth,” he said in the husky whisper I was beginning to crave so much. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
I grinned and pulled his head down to my eye level. “You’ll love it even more when it’s wrapped around your cock.” His breath hitched and my grin widened. “We should get going. I’m starving. You need to feed me so I have enough energy for a long, long night.”
He pecked me on the lips. “Name the place. Burgers? Pasta? Italian beef?”
Everything sounded good when I was starving. “What’s Italian beef?”
He rolled his eyes and grabbed my hand, heading for the door. “You’ve lived in Chicago for a year and you’ve never eaten Italian beef? We need to rectify this immediately.”
“Wait,” I said, giving him a sheepish grin. “Let me grab my purse and say good-bye to my cat. She’ll be all alone tonight. Poor girl.”
Brandy picked that moment to cuddle up to Damon’s leg, purring so loud I could almost see the vibrations rocking her body. He scooped her up and let her snuggle in the crook of his neck. I retrieved my purse and returned to scratch Brandy’s back while he held her.
“Do you have catnip in your shirt pocket?” I teased, but in truth I was amazed at my cat’s reaction to him.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Did you know cats are excellent judges of character?”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely.” He winked. “Ready?”
After settling Brandy on the sofa, he opened the door and held out his hand to motion me through first. I locked the door and led the way to the stairs, taking each one carefully in my high-heeled boots.
“Nice sweater, by the way,” Damon said from behind. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was smiling. “Though I’d like it even better if it was a few inches shorter in back. Those jeans fit you like a glove.”
I glanced over my shoulder and giggled at the way he was focused on my butt. “That’s the allure of it. Tight jeans, baggy sweater. Makes you want to know what’s hidden underneath, doesn’t it?”
His eyes heated and he leered. “Oh, I know what treasures lie beneath.”
He looped his arm around my shoulder as we exited the building, both of us grinning from ear to ear. A black stretch limousine waited at the curb and I glanced at Damon with surprise.
“You really shouldn’t have,” I said, pausing to take in the sight.
His response was curt. “I didn’t.”
My heartbeat quickened and I swallowed hard. “Oh, shit. Giovanni’s card said he’d be waiting at the curb at eight o’clock to take me to dinner.” When Damon’s hand squeezed almost imperceptibly on my shoulder, I added, “It was a command, not an offer I accepted. I totally forgot. I’m sorry.”
I gazed into his eyes, pleading for him to believe me. He leaned down and planted a hard kiss on my lips as he drew me closer. His lips were both punishing and possessive.
“Well, he can fuck off. You’re mine tonight.”
The limo pulled away while Damon still held me to him.
“Point well made,” I said with a grin. My stomach rumbled and a rush of heat surged up my neck. I was certain he could feel the grumbling against his belly. “Where are you taking me for dinner?”
He chuckled and headed toward a canary yellow Mercedes AMG GT S parked at the curb. “Let me surprise you. Come park that sweet bottom of yours in my car and let me take you for a ride.”
CHAPTER 8
Brave
Sydney’s Bistro & Bar was not at all what I had expected. It was down to earth, with warm tones from the large oak bar lining one side of the cavernous space and exposed wooden beams across the ceiling. Deep burgundy walls complemented the wood along with forest green cushions on the bench seating. Giovanni would never have been caught dead in a place like this.
But the biggest surprise was the standing room only.
“We’ll never find a seat.” I craned my neck to get a better look at the full layout of the restaurant.
Damon grasped me by the shoulders and leaned in. “Stay put. I’m going to talk to the hostess.”
He weaved his way through the crowd and then stood in line, waiting patiently until it was his turn. A giggle bubbled out of me as I tried to imagine my brother or father doing the same. Damon might be a billionaire, but he didn’t always act like one. It was refreshing and a little heartwarming.
He didn’t have to wait long. When the red-headed hostess lifted her head and spied him in line, she waved him to the front with a glorious smile. Several customers ahead of him glared unabashed as he made his way to the hostess podium. An odd tingling sensation branched out from the center of my chest. When the woman rested her hand on Damon’s arm as they spoke, my unease intensified. She glanced at the bar and nodded her head. Damon grinned and then sought me out in the crowd, gesturing for me to join him.
Another woman falling for his charms. I was beginning to see a pattern. One that nettled me more than I wanted to admit. You’re nothing more than a one-night stand to him.
“Do you mind eating at the bar?” he asked when I finally made it to his side.
“Sounds great,” I replied, and I meant it. Sitting at the bar offered an opportunity to view the entire establishment and guaranteed us quicker service.
We followed the hostess to the last two open spots and I hopped up onto a stool, setting my purse on the bar. The leather bottom was cushy and the high back gave Damon a place to rest his arm around me. He caught the attention of one of the bartenders and lifted two fingers before turning to face me.
“If you’re going to have a night of firsts,” he said, brushing the back of his hand across my cheek, “then you want to try this beer.”
His innocent caress sent a tremor of desire rippling through me and I forgot to be perturbed by his presumption of ordering for me. It was hard to be mad when he directed his full attention and sexy smile on me, especially with his knee brushing up against my leg.
“What makes you think I haven’t tried it already?” I asked with a lift of my brow. “Remember, I’m a bartender. What is it?”
“Zombie Dust.” He rested his hand on my thigh and grinned. “Three Floyds Brewing Company. Ever tasted it?”
I almost squirmed under the heat of his touch. Not that I didn’t like it. I did. Too much. Knowing he couldn’t stop touching me was sending my hormones into overdrive and I suddenly wondered how large the bathroom stalls were.
Get it together, girl.
“Okay, you’re right. I haven’t tasted it,” I said, glancing over my shoulder to check out the rest of the bistro. I needed a serious distraction. A few customers waiting in the foyer gave me the evil eye. I looked back at Damon. “How were you able to worm your way to the top of the list? I swear that lady against the wall is flaying my skin off layer by layer right now.”
“Ignore her. I earned these stools.” He pointed a finger to the end of the restaurant. “See those?”
I followed the line of his finger and narrowed my eyes. There was more than a hint of surprise in my question. “Are those dueling pianos?”
“Yes.” He glanced at his watch. “These seats are reserved for customers crazy enough to take on the owner. Competition starts at 9:30 p.m. sharp so we need to order. Stat.”
“You’re serious,” I said, staring at him slack-jawed.
“Of course.” He leaned over and kissed me, his lips cracking into a smile against mine. “It was the only way to get a seat right away. Unless you’ve changed your mind about trying Italian beef. Then we can go somewhere else.”
I was floored by his response. He could’v
e paid someone off to clear a table for us immediately. The fact that he entered a piano dueling contest to reserve our seats was one of the sweetest gestures I’d ever seen.
I squeezed his hand. “Hell, no. I want to see this for myself. Damon Baxter, billionaire, a dueling piano player. That’s rich. Can I record it on my smartphone?”
Damon’s response was put on hold as a bartender slid two draft beers in front of us. The frosty mugs were full to the rim with light ale. “Evening, Damon.” The man was all tight T-shirt and muscled arms, sporting a shock of blond hair and the kind of golden skin one only got in a tanning booth. He glanced at me with a sparkle in his eyes. “And Damon’s lovely guest. You want the regular tonight, man?”
“You know it, Brad,” Damon said, folding his hands together and stretching out his arms until his knuckles cracked. “Meet Samantha. Can you make it fast? I want time for my food to settle before the big event.”
“Is this your first time, Samantha?” Brad asked with more than a little interest lighting in his eyes as he looked me over.
I nodded and leaned into the bar. “But something tells me this isn’t Damon’s.”
A wide grin spread across Brad’s face and he winked. “He’s a favorite with the ladies. But don’t worry, I’ll keep you company while he plays.”
“The hell you will.” Damon rested his arm around the back of my stool. “Get your paws off my lady. She’ll be warming the bench next to me.”
Brad clapped Damon on the shoulder with a grin and left to put our order in the kiosk.
“I’m allowed up there with you?” I asked.
The gleam of laughter in his eyes reeled me right in. “How else am I going to keep the vultures at bay?”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on Brad,” I said, taking a sip of my beer. Damon’s playful mood was contagious and I found myself wanting to tease him. “He could be observing rule number eight. Maybe number nine. I noticed Brad wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.”
Damon threaded his fingers through the hair at my nape and held my head so I was forced to look him in the eyes. They were dark pools of desire that stole my breath. “After tonight, the only man you’ll be dreaming about is me.”
Breaking His Rules Page 7