by Gephart, T
I waited, anchoring my hands behind my neck as my eyes stayed glued to my doorway, waiting to see him waltz back in his flawless naked perfection.
“You want something?” His mouth twisted at the side, taking his time as he strolled back to my bed.
My mouth opened and then closed, my eyes dropping down to his hips.
Wow.
He was huge.
It wasn’t just his cock, which was impressive in its own right, but the rest of his body was like a testimony to genetic excellence.
“Yeah, I thought so.” He threw back his head and laughed. “Tell me again how you don’t want to sleep with me.”
Every single inch of immaculate muscle flexed like a well-timed symphony, my eyes feasting on all that skin as he bent to kiss me. He was without a doubt the most beautiful man I had ever seen.
Too bad it probably wouldn’t work out between us.
“We work together. It would be bad.” I fished for the most obvious reason, forgetting the thirty thousand other ones I’d had before I’d seen him without his clothes on.
“You already hate me.” He laughed. “You’ve got to come up with a better excuse than that.”
“So, we’re going to have sex?” Was I actually agreeing to this? “But somehow keep things professional at work?”
“Yes, we can be adults.” His gorgeous body lowered onto the bed. “Working alongside you pushes me to be better. I like having you breathing down my neck.” His lips twisted into a grin. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be sucking yours at the same time.”
“I’m not one of those women who are going to get all swoony and start being soft,” I warned. There was no way I’d throw away my career or ambition for a man no matter how good he was in bed. “I will go toe to toe with you every single time regardless of how many times you make me come.”
His finger trailed up my leg, gripping my thigh tight. “Good, because you’re not going to get a free pass from me either. If anything,” he pushed my legs apart, “I’m going to be harder on you.”
A sick thrill ran through my body. I knew I was playing with fire, but I had the box of matches in my hands and I wasn’t about to toss them away.
I didn’t want a boyfriend; I didn’t have time for it. But if my biggest adversary ended up being the best sex I’d ever had, then who said I couldn’t do both.
“There has to be rules.” My hand moved to his, stopping it from moving further up my thigh. “The two areas stay separated, always. Throw whatever you want at me, Roman, but it doesn’t get personal.”
“Agreed.” He nodded, his eyes focusing on my mouth. “I’ll play fair. Now, you’re done talking? I want to lay you out and watch you scream my name while I bury myself in you.”
My skin heated as a wicked grin spread across my lips. “Don’t be offended if I scream out someone else’s name instead. I figured it’s nicer than calling out asshole or cocksucker.”
“No one else’s name,” he warned as his eyes darkened. “I prefer asshole or cocksucker.”
He was just about to kiss me when his phone buzzed, the repetitive trill coming from the pile of clothes on the floor at the end of my bed. His chest heaved with a frustrated breath, his jaw tightening. “I have to get that.”
“Sure.” I watched him move off the bed, curious if it was the same caller who had been ignored earlier.
While I had agreed to a sex-only relationship with him, I still knew very little about his life. And whether he wanted to give me that information or not, I was going to find out.
His head shook, raking fingers through his hair as he bent down to the pants that had been discarded on the floor and pulled out his phone.
If he’d been surprised by the caller, he didn’t show it. His face impassive as he looked at the screen, hit the button and answered. “Roman.”
My heart thumped as I waited for him to excuse himself or signal to me that he was walking into the living room to take it, but he didn’t. His eyes stayed on me as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” He paused, shaking his head. “Yes, I know someone, but I would rather handle this in house.” Another pause, his grip around the phone tightening. “Fine. I’ll see you later.”
He ended the call, tossing the phone onto the floor in frustration. Whatever had been said was obviously not what he’d wanted to hear; tension spreading across his forehead as he reached down and pulled on his boxer briefs. “Round two is going to have to wait.”
“Is everything okay?” I watched as he pulled on his pants, continuing to get dressed. Round two wasn’t only on hold, he was leaving.
“It will be.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.
What the hell?
My eyes widened as he peeled off a hundred dollar bill and held it out toward me. “Here, you need to take this.”
“Are you fucking insane?” I slapped his hand and the money away. “Do you think I’m a fucking prostitute?”
Rage filled me as I searched my immediate space for a weapon. While we weren’t exactly in a place of love and devotion when we fell into bed together, I assumed he didn’t think I was a whore either.
I was going to kill him.
Screw Morgan and her just-steam-cleaned rug.
“No, I think you’re a fucking lawyer.” He pushed the money closer, ignoring my death stare. “Take it as an advance on your retainer.”
What. The. Hell.
“What?” My eyes moved from his hand to his face with none of it making sense. If this was some kind of joke, then he was giving one hell of a performance. I was Alice, tumbling down the rabbit hole with no sense of who or what would be on the other side.
“You need to come with me tonight and I need you in the capacity to represent someone.” He put the money on the bed and pulled on his shirt, his deft fingers moving steadily up the buttons. “What happens at the meeting will fall under privilege, you understand?”
“What?” I said again because all those words had just made me more confused. He was hiring me as a lawyer? I had been wrong, it wasn’t a rabbit hole I’d fallen into; I’d stumbled headfirst into a John Grisham novel.
“My brother is being a pain in my ass.” Next came his socks and shoes. “He wants a second legal opinion, but it’s a sensitive matter.” The bed compressed under his weight as he took a seat and picked up the hundred again. “Take the money, Lauren, we need to go.”
If I’d had even an ounce of common sense, I’d have told him to shove his money, his crazy-ass family, and whatever insanity he was inviting me into.
Forget that I’d just slept with a man I openly disliked—and considered doing it again for reasons beyond my comprehension—and walk out the door. And once I was outside of that door hustle to the closest police station—and possibly psychiatrist—and file a report. I wasn’t sure if it was him or me who deserved to be locked up, but one of us needed to be for sure.
Clearly common sense was in short supply.
“We need to go now?” I heard myself say, suddenly becoming conscious I had picked up the money. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t only considering it, but some warped and twisted part of me was excited.
I needed to take up a freaking hobby or something.
Maybe I could start insider trading, or overbill my clients. Obviously I had a death wish and wanted to ruin my career so why stop at legal representation to a bunch of mobsters.
And if by some miracle, I didn’t end up being disbarred or dismembered, Morgan was going to kill me herself if she ever found out I’d put myself in jeopardy. I don’t think this was the fun she had in mind.
“Yes, now.” He handed me my dress. “Please.”
“Okay, give me a few minutes.” My voice sounded weird as I grabbed my clothes and hopped off the bed. This was by far the most reckless thing I’d ever done and all I could think about was whether or not I had time to put on makeup as I raced to the bathroom, redressing and clea
ning myself up. My pulse hammered under my skin as I looked in the mirror.
The dress was far from appropriate.
Did I even bother with a jacket to cover up with to give the illusion of professionalism? Was anyone really going to care?
I seriously needed to get out more.
The idea that I was willingly going to meet a man I suspected was a criminal, sign up to help him, and be excited about it spoke volumes of my epic fall from grace. My attire was the least of my problems.
And yet as I freshened up and adjusted my dress, my skin tingled with a buzz that I’d never felt before.
It was totally going to suck if this ended badly. And here I thought the worst thing that was going to happen tonight was my questionable sexual decisions. Ha, if only.
“Harper, you ready to go?” Roman knocked on the bathroom door while I gave myself one last look in the mirror.
I was sure nobody was going to care about my personal appearance, but if I ended up going down tonight, I wanted to make it easier on the coroner.
“Yes, ready.” I opened the door, slipping on my shoes as I grabbed my handbag and phone. “You going to tell me where we’re going and what the hell we’re going to do when we get there?”
He took a deep breath, his eyes locking on me. “After tonight, you’re going to know things about me. Things that most people don’t.”
This was so bad.
And yet there was I, going anyway.
“Roman, I took the money.” Did those words really just come out of my mouth? “I am not going to tell anyone anything. But I’m warning you, if you or your brother drag me into some shady shit, this will not end well for either of you.”
He barked out a laugh, his hands settling on my hips. “You keep talking like that and you’re going to get me hard. Relax.” His head lowered, planting a kiss on my lips. “This is perfectly legal, but you’re going to have to trust me. And I will tell you everything after you meet him.”
“Okay.” Was it? A little late now to be having second thoughts. “Let’s go.”
THERE WERE A MILLION QUESTIONS running around in my head, and at least half of those should have been asked before I hopped back into Roman’s Ferrari and drove with him into the hills.
Beverly Hills.
If Eric Pierce’s millionaire status was ever in doubt, it was solidly put to rest as we drove past lines of high fences and thick hedges. Not that I expected anything less, I’d heard Bugsy Siegel used to have a house around here too.
And of those questions—thought and needing to be asked—none of them had left my lips, keeping my mouth shut and my eyes open as we pulled up to a large, black, iron gate.
“Two grand.” I watched as the gate slowly slid open. “That hundred you gave me back at the apartment isn’t close to cutting it.”
As the words left my mouth, two thoughts went through my head.
One, who the hell was I right now?
And two, I probably should have asked for more.
Two K was nothing to a man who lived in a house like that, but even though I had strong fears for my sanity, I wasn’t going to totally go Wolf of Wall Street. Somewhere in all this craziness, I had to hang onto my humanity. Or at least that was what I told myself I was doing.
“You’re shaking me down?” He laughed, putting the car into gear as we moved down the driveway. “I’ll make sure you get the rest of your money.”
The property was stunning, beautiful manicured lawns with security lighting illuminating the mansion we stopped in front of.
I think millionaire had been underselling it. I took a deep breath as Roman killed the ignition.
“Ready?” Roman’s hand stalled on the handle, looking over at me before opening his door.
“I am.” I opened my side before I had a chance to change my mind.
Roman waited for me to join him, both of us climbing the stairs to the impressive front door. My pulse raced as he rang the buzzer, waiting for it open.
A tall, handsome, dark-haired man I assumed was Eric answered the door. They didn’t look related, but who was I to judge. “You take the scenic route? His Lordship is wearing out the carpet in the living room.”
“I was busy.” Roman looked impatient, tipping his head to the man who’d answered the door. “This is Ryan. He’s my brother’s manservant.”
“You’re a dick.” Ryan flipped him off before turning to me. “Yes, I work for Eric, but I’m also a friend. Ryan.” His hand extended, waiting for me to shake it.
He must be the consigliere. Got it.
I accepted his handshake as I introduced myself. “Lauren Harper. Pleased to meet you.”
I wasn’t sure if I was, but I wasn’t unpleased either.
Ryan had kind eyes, and anyone who called Roman a dick to his face was okay in my book. I also had to wonder if it was a prerequisite to be good looking and hot to join the Pierce Crew. The two members I’d met so far could have easily been featured in Vogue. Maybe the mobster edition. There was an editorial gold mine.
“Pleasure’s mine.” Ryan grinned. “I’d love to keep being social, but you guys need to deal with him. This is waaaaay above my pay grade.”
He outstretched his arm inviting us in, Roman placing his hand on my lower back as we walked inside.
My pulse raced as we walked through the lavish hall, my eyes trying to not be expanded to full capacity as I took it all in.
Ryan led the way, his confident strides coming to a stop beside an open door. “Here you go.” His head tipped to the direction of the room. “Tia is with Lila over at my place, let me know when it’s safe to come back.”
I wasn’t sure if those names were supposed to make sense, but I nodded as I stepped into the room. A tall blond man with an amazing ass—ah, it was a family trait I see—had his back toward us, his head down as his hand gripped the mantel.
Roman stood beside me, taking a breath. “Eric, we’re here.”
Eric rolled his shoulders as he straightened, shaking his head before he turned around. He was taller than Roman, but just as toned. His powerhouse body wrapped in a pair of designer jeans and T-shirt as opposed to the suits his brother favored. His blond hair was slightly longer, looking mussed from excessive finger raking and his face—
“Holy shit.” The words slipped out of my mouth as the breath got stuck in my throat. My chest felt tight, my lungs struggling to expand.
Oh. My. God.
“Breathe.” Roman squeezed my arm. “This is my brother, Eric.”
“Eric Larsson is your brother?” I managed to wheeze out. “Your brother is freaking Eric Larsson?” The question repeated in case it had been missed the first time.
I wasn’t sure if it was more shocking that I was standing in front of a movie star in his own house, or that I had been working alongside his brother for over a year and not known. In my head it didn’t make sense, like there was a piece of the equation missing. I was prepared to meet a drug lord, not one of Hollywood’s A-list. And how insane was it that in my head, an evening with a criminal made more sense.
How could it be? The question rolled around in my head as the family resemblance became unmistakable.
Roman Pierce was actually Roman Larsson.
“You didn’t tell her?” Eric narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Typical.”
“Oh, give me a break, like you were so forthcoming with Tia.” Roman rolled his eyes. “Do you want our help or not?”
I punched him as hard as I could in the arm, my mind still in free fall. “What the hell, Roman?”
“Jesus, Harper.” He rubbed his arm, his grin making an appearance. “I never took you as the violent type. Looks like we’re both learning something new.”
Eric came closer, putting out his hand. “You’ll have to excuse my brother. I’m Eric.”
“I’m Lauren.” I tried to find some professionalism, the question of how it was all possible left unanswered. “I work with your soon-to-be-deceased brother. I hope you weren’t too
close.”
“I like her.” He nodded to his brother. “She’s obviously smart.”
The entire backstory I’d built for Roman and his family fell apart at the seams. And the reason I hadn’t been able to find information on Eric, Nick, Dave or even Alex Pierce online was because they didn’t exist. The family was not entrenched in the deep underworld like I first thought. Instead, their oldest sibling was super famous, the others probably in some other form of show business, and Roman was . . . well, there weren’t enough words for what he was right now.
“Can someone please fill me in on why I am standing in Eric Larsson’s living room?” I looked between the two brothers, hoping one of them would give me something that sounded like the truth. I assumed it would be Eric who came through; Roman had proven he couldn’t be trusted. “Why the hell do you have different last names?”
“I use Pierce for professional reasons,” Roman spoke, surprising me. “In both our lines of work we have the ability to attract crazies. I figured this was the best way to reduce the need for damage control. I can practice law without worrying about some guilty asshole coming after my family, and I can separate myself from the insanity that comes with the Larsson last name. I’m not ashamed of my family, Harper, I’ve just chosen to not let it define me.”
Wow.
That was more honest than I’d expected, and in a weird kind of way it made sense. Not that I wasn’t still mad as hell at him for blindsiding me. Oh no, he wasn’t getting off that easy. But if Morgan wasn’t an ER nurse and instead had a massive multimillion-dollar recording career, I might have done the same thing.
Maybe.
The jury was still out.
“Pierce is our mother’s maiden name,” Eric added, giving me a sympathetic smile. “Roman changed it before he graduated from Yale.”
Trying to work out if that meant he hadn’t been lying was making my head hurt. Getting into the particulars would have to wait for later, for now, my reason for being there hadn’t been addressed. Unless it was to freak me the hell out, and then it had been mission accomplished.
“Why am I here, Eric?”
A look passed between Roman and Eric, Roman finally speaking. “She’s good, she won’t say anything.”