The Millionaire's Revenge

by Wendy Byrne

  Getting away from her now would be the best course of action, unless he wanted to do something categorically stupid.

  “It’s the least I could do after last night and this morning.” She slid inside and rolled down the window. “I’ve got box tickets to the opera on Tuesday. Are you game?”

  “Text me the details, and I’ll pick you up.” Never been to the opera. Had no desire to go. But none of that mattered because he suspected he’d have this whole thing dissected and destroyed well before Tuesday.

  All he needed was Sal and his PI to come up with the information he needed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Grace paced around the living room in her red Versace gown with a strapless sweetheart neck and form-fitting torso that flared out to touch the floor. What had she been thinking? This whole test thing had taken on a life of its own, and she’d become a willing participant in this fiasco. Paying an outrageous price for tickets to something she didn’t want to see smacked of a stupidity explosion.

  She hated the opera. Because she was part of a certain social strata, the expectation remained for her to embrace what others considered cultural perfection. But she didn’t. And never would. As she tried to decide whom she might be testing, Luke or her, a crisp knock at the door signaled his arrival.

  She plastered a smile on her face and opened the door. Her breath caught in her throat as she soaked in his appearance—tux that fit his body like it was tailor-made, crisp white shirt, his dark hair slicked back—and the smell of spice and predatory male wafting around him as he graced her with a sexy tilt to his lips before kissing her on the cheek.

  “You look amazing,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Right back at ya.” The words stumbled out of her mouth, and she had an overpowering urge to check her chin for drool.

  Holy shit! She couldn’t imagine how this night would end up anywhere but the bedroom. Maybe they shouldn’t go to the opera at all—it seemed like a huge waste of studly manhood. They could hang around here and do something involving nakedness…with maybe some food mixed in…body shots. Just as she was about to make the suggestion, he placed an arm about her waist.

  “You ready? The cab’s waiting.”

  Coming out of her sexual stupor took a supersized internal headshake. But she managed to grab her wrap as he escorted her out the door. Her fingers trembled as he helped her into the back of the cab.

  Solicitous as always, his arm rested on her shoulder as they rode through town until they got to The Met. He remained quiet, as did she. For once in her life she didn’t feel the need to talk, only snuggled into him and enjoyed the ride.

  Snowflakes had begun to fall, giving the landscape a shimmery appearance as they exited the cab. A Salvation Army bell ringer greeted them. “Darn. I forgot cash.”

  He looked at her. “For?”

  “I make my way around Manhattan during the holiday season with hundred dollar bills in my purse to put in the buckets.”

  Luke pulled out his wallet, took out cash, and stuffed it in the bucket as they walked past. “You’re covered.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  Despite her reluctance to attend, she couldn’t suppress the excitement surrounding the Met. He grabbed her hand as they walked up the steps. The grandeur of Lincoln Center, the gorgeous chandeliers, the well-dressed people milling about, the spectacle could impress even a nonbeliever like her.

  The interior was as opulent as the exterior, much as she remembered it to be. They’d decorated for the holidays with an enormous Christmas tree bursting with crystal and jeweled ornaments. A Menorah sat atop a fake fireplace with blue and white snowflakes shaped like the Star of David hanging from the mantle. After the usher led them to their seats, Luke leaned over. “You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he whispered.

  She both loathed and loved the way he tended to speak against her throat, his lips touching the skin outside her ear setting off every erogenous zone north to south in her body. Memories of the mark he’d left on her neck, that had yet to completely disappear, remained a continual memento each time she looked into the mirror.

  “I—” she started to reply as the curtain parted and the opera began. Settling back against her seat, she tried to focus on the stage, but all she could think about was how soon it would be over. Maturity hadn’t given her an appreciation, it only brought back memories of being dragged here against her will.

  As if aware of her internal struggles, he twined his fingers with hers and kissed her knuckles. “I don’t think the fat guy’s going to make it to the second act. You want to take bets?”

  When she giggled, a clucking sound came from the lady behind her. She ignored the reprimand and took the opportunity to smell the crisp scent of his aftershave as she cuddled close to his neck. “I’m laying money on the lady in the purple gown. That tight corset is cutting off her oxygen supply.”

  He muffled his laugh as a mixture of clucks and sighs erupted around them. He winked at her and grasped her hand tighter, and a warm feeling spread through her skin.

  By the time intermission came around she’d almost fallen asleep. She realized half the fun of going out with Luke had been the conversation…and the flirting…and the dancing… Not this forced silence.

  “Do you want a glass of wine?” he asked as he got up.

  She nodded, the boredom nearly exhausting her. “Make it extra large.” When he left, she pulled out her phone and texted Felicia and Tess.

  Luke looks hot tonight. But I want to get out of this place.

  You finally going to get this done and satisfying our curiosity?

  I hope so. I’m ready to have my way with him in the nearest hallway. Remind me why I thought it was a good idea to go to the opera? I still hate it and it brings up bad memories of being forced into going with my mom. Hated going then. Hate even more now when I just want to get Luke naked.

  You wanted to see if he had what it takes to… Yeah that’s kind of where you lost me with the opera thing.

  I could think of much more interesting tests than that.

  The testing portion of this experiment might be over. Bring on the screwing.

  …

  Luke was pretty sure he nodded off a couple of times. On the good news side, Grace looked smokin’ hot. Not that he should be noticing, but damn, that woman took sexy to a whole other level. When he was with her he had fun and most times forgot why he was with her in the first place.

  While he had a piece to the puzzle courtesy of Sal, he wanted the whole picture. In many ways he’d gone from believing she was in collusion with her father, to recognizing things were much more complicated than that. His PI had managed to get confirmation on her substantial charitable contributions, which jibed with her cash donations to the Salvation Army and her commitment to the homeless. All of that substantiated she and her father were polar opposites rather than partners in crime. In many ways, his mission had pivoted from getting the two of them nailed to protecting Grace from her father’s fallout and hoping she’d forgive him. But he still needed validation.

  He sat in one of the chairs to check on the hockey game. As he watched, his phone buzzed with a text from Grace.

  Where are you? The old guy next to me is hitting on me. Or maybe he’s fallen asleep. Can’t tell, but he’s leaning his head on my shoulder—either asleep or trying to look down my dress.

  He chuckled. I’ll be right there to rescue you with wine. Maybe I should ask for a 16 oz. to-go cup.

  I like the way you think. Meet you in the lobby. Let’s blow this popcorn stand. The old guy can drool on somebody else.

  You didn’t mention drool. I think I need to kick his ass.

  I’ll steal his walker just in case he’s feistier than he looks.

  She slumped into his arms dramatically after she rushed out the door. “We need to make a quick exit before the old man comes looking for me and you have to defend my honor. It must be that push-up bra I bought—it’s supposed to make my size Bs lo
ok boobalicious. The old guy couldn’t help himself.”

  How could he have such a great time with somebody he thought was out to get him?

  “Wanna hit Chinatown for dinner?”

  “We’re a little overdressed, but I’m starving. Maybe boredom makes me hungry.”

  He grasped her arm and scrutinized her face. Considering her lineage and what he might expect, she sure as hell didn’t seem into it. “Wasn’t it your idea to come here in the first place?”

  She shook her head and smiled. “It’s a long and sordid tale I’d rather not tell unless I’m drunk or naked—or some combination of the two. Let’s say I learned my lesson and leave it at that.”

  He worked through this complicated dilemma in his head while they picked up Chinese takeout and headed toward his apartment. Was he blowing smoke up his own ass?

  On one hand, she’d proven herself to be wicked smart and business savvy. Then again, her commitment to homelessness and poverty was evident. He couldn’t dismiss the depth of her passion in the sparkle that came into her eyes when she discussed the low-income units included in the Hudson River property. Could Cyrus be so horrible he’d ensnare his own daughter in his illegal dealings?

  If he weren’t such a chickenshit, he’d be up front and ask her and let the chips fall where they may. But he was having way too much fun being with her, he admired her spunk and her caring nature. Mostly he just wasn’t ready to be done with her and go back to his solitary existence.

  Damn. What a mess.

  …

  Grace would be the first to admit she was more than a little curious when he invited her to his place. “You live in Tribeca?”

  “You sound surprised.” Luke unlocked the door to his loft, sliding the barn-style door to the side before ushering her inside. “Did you think I lived in some kind of accountant hovel where I had six roommates?”

  She smiled and took his arm as she walked through the place that looked like it was out of the pages of Architectural Digest with industrial beams, exposed brick walls, and soaring windows with views to the city.

  “I’m not sure what I expected…but this is…well…spectacular. I’m so jealous you live in such an amazing apartment in such a hip neighborhood. You’re sitting at the cool kids’ table at lunch while I’m with the nerds working on a physics project.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “You live in a thirty-million-dollar townhome across the street from Central Park. What’s not to love about that?”

  “I love jogging in Central Park. But the place is way too big for me, and my neighbors are all old.” She sighed. “I love Mrs. Harrington to death, but I don’t belong there. My father won’t let me sell the place.”

  “I hate to be Captain Obvious, but didn’t you say he gave it to you? Being a gift means it’s yours to sell as well.”

  He made it sound so simple. But nothing was ever simple with Cyrus. “Every time I bring it up, he talks about it being part of Manhattan history and preservation of our heritage or some such nonsense.”

  “Doesn’t your dad destroy old buildings and build new high-rises in their place for a living…well except for the building by the river you showed me? It’s what developers in Manhattan do, isn’t it?”

  “I guess.” Most days she tried to forget he was her father. “But right now all I care about is taking off this dress, and more importantly, taking off this damn push up bra, and then eating, in that order. I seem to recall you mentioning something about clothes of yours I might be able to fit into.”

  “More like ones that won’t fall off you—although there’s merit in that as well.”

  He handed her sweatpants and an ancient-looking, old-style football shirt. She shuttled into the bathroom. “Don’t eat all the Kung Pao Chicken, or you might need medical attention.”

  He laughed from the other side of the door as she slid into his clothes. “Red or white wine, sake, or beer? Your choice.”

  “Sake sounds good with maybe a wine chaser.” She rolled up the sleeves as well as the bottom of the pants, but felt infinitely more comfortable. This experiment seemed to be working out well regardless of the whole opera debacle. Now if there was some kind of incredible sex later, the night would be perfect.

  “Brace yourself,” she called before throwing open the bathroom door. “Ta-da.” She held her arms in the air like a magician jumping out of a box. “As a famous person I know once said hmm…what was it again…something like…I’m paraphrasing—one look at this and you won’t be able to help yourself.”

  “I can’t imagine who might have said something so brilliant.” He stroked his chin and laughed. “Mind if we eat on the couch and watch the hockey game? I need some violence to counteract the dose of culture, if I hope to keep my man card.”

  Once he changed into jeans and a T-shirt, he joined her on the couch. She didn’t know how or why she felt so at ease with him, despite their brief time together. It was like he knew her in another life or something—okay that was kind of new-age crazy. But even during all her ridiculous tests she put him through, they managed to have fun.

  “After the game, how about a movie? But I’ll warn you, my house, my choice.”

  “That sounds familiar. I think someone both beautiful and brilliant might have said something similar.”

  He captured a juicy piece of chicken in his chopsticks and slipped it between her lips. “What do you think? Isn’t this the best Chinese in the city?”

  She nodded. “Hmmm. Delicious. Or maybe I’m starving. I think I need another bite to know for sure.”

  He smiled and lifted the chopsticks to her lips. “This time, I gave you some veggies as well.”

  “Ummm. Now snag me one of those egg rolls.” The drumming in her head warned her this whole thing might be too good to be true, but she decided to relax, sit back, and enjoy the fun while it lasted.

  She indulged. He indulged. They fed themselves. They fed each other. And when they’d both had their fill, sipped at the sake. The sugary liquid oozed down her throat as he brought their empty cartons into the kitchen and came back with two glasses of wine.

  This had all the makings of a seduction scene and she couldn’t wait. The build up between them seemed to have lasted for more than her lifetime, and it was about damn time to see if he lived up to her expectations.

  “I need to put on a movie with lots of blowing up shit.” He selected one from his Netflix account and slid his arm around her shoulder.

  As the movie began, he leaned over and kissed her. She cozied into his shoulder like it was designed to fit her perfectly. All the stars were aligned, and she could practically see a chorus of hallelujah in her future. Before she knew it, he held her body captive, her hands stretched above her head. His free hand slid up her ribs toward her breast then palmed it to perfection. While her nipple pebbled, a sigh of pure satisfaction escaped her lips. As her hormones skyrocketed, she wished a magic fairy would come and instantly dissolve the clothes between them.

  “You feel good,” he murmured against her neck, shooting tingles every which way up and down her skin.

  He shifted and released her captured wrists while his erection probed between her thighs. She traveled the length of his zipper with her palm.

  “I hope you don’t have anything planned for the next day or two.” His words were music to her sexually deprived ears.

  He slid his hand under the waist of her sweats. His fingers probed between her thighs as she spread her legs to give him more access. While his thumb circled her clit, his finger dipped inside. Nothing could have prepared her for the riot of sensations or the pre-orgasmic tremor rocking through her. The man had barely touched her, and she did everything she could to stop from begging him to screw her brains out. Right here. Right now.

  Maybe she should. Foreplay was overrated, especially since her body had skyrocketed from zero to sixty.

  Gone were thoughts of tomorrow. This was about now.

  She managed to ease down his zipper. Wrappi
ng her fingers around him for the first time felt comfortable rather than awkward. His groan along with his persistent finger and thumb stimulation signaled he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  “Couch or bed?” He nibbled near her ear.

  “Couch. Bed…too…far.”

  He slipped off her sweats and thong in a move so smooth it defied logic. The leather cushion felt cool against her butt and legs but with his body draped along her side, she warmed quickly.

  “We need to get you out of those clothes,” she whispered against his cheek.

  He smiled as he drew his shirt over his head. When he looked at her breasts he stopped to suck her left nipple into his mouth. She wanted to throw back her head and shout yes, yes, yes, but managed to refrain. The man knew what he was doing.

  His phone buzzed on the table. He ignored it and captured her lips in a kiss as his fingers thrust inside her, his thumb on her clit. His lips traveled down her neck to her chest until she thought she might die of stimulation. But what a way to die.

  The sensation built inside until she’d do nearly anything to get him to finish her off quickly. Pleasure rode roughshod over her pliant body as her hips rose to meet the movement of his probing fingers like a perfectly choreographed dance.

  And then the buzzing noise again. He swore then broke away to glance at the read-out on the screen.

  Before he said a word, his focus withdrew. And she knew. While she wanted to beg him to finish her off, she’d never beg.

  His slick fingers smoothed up her body in a way that signaled defeat. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to meet with a client.”

  Caught in some kind of sexual stupor where her mind temporarily vacated the premises, it took her several seconds for everything to sink in. Stark naked except for the shirt he’d shoved up to expose her breasts, she lay there in stunned silence. His jeans were halfway off, with his penis pulsing hard between them. “You’re what?” She had to be hallucinating. It was the only rational explanation.

  “I have to go.”

  Still trying to wrap her head around the situation, she struggled to a sitting position, yanking the shirt down to cover her chest. “An accounting emergency? Couldn’t you talk to him about it on the phone or email or something?”