by Lana Lachlan
Hardly, but as the dutiful only child, Anna never rocked the boat, never made a fuss and rarely defied her grandmother. Her upbringing simply wouldn’t allow it.
“Yes, but you’re the expert because you’ve organized so many weddings,” Anna said pointedly, although it was lost on Beatrice who had started picking at her salad.
Anna picked at her own salad, her mind back on him. In her world, men like him might as well be from another planet. At school she knew girls from good families who sneaked across town to be with bad boys but that hadn’t been her. Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t feel so mixed up about why she’d wanted him so badly. Even now, she only had to think about him and every nerve in her body fired for more of what he offered, despite her still throbbing bottom. So shameful to want a disgusting man like that. She could never show her face at the Fortune Club again.
The nightclub. She’d gone there with her best friend, Cristal, and in a rash decision, put her engagement ring in her purse, pleading with Cristal not to tell. Just for once, she had wanted to enjoy herself without feeling like someone being prepared for marriage. They’d had fun dancing and trying new cocktails. Then at around three-thirty or so—she could remember the time because it was the latest they’d ever stayed out—Cristal had run into an old boyfriend. He’d offered to drop her off at her apartment on his way to Cristal’s but Anna, feeling like a third wheel, had insisted on making her own way home. She’d almost finished her drink when three men at the next table had started chatting to her. That was the last thing she remembered until waking up in the loft apartment, half naked with him looking at her without his shirt on. Her crazy behavior—her rudeness, breaking things, provoking him—had to be the drug as she never ever acted like that.
Shifting in her seat, the ache in her bottom made it difficult to find a comfortable position although it could have been far worse considering she’d physically attacked a man twice her size and Lord knows how many times stronger. He’d looked so scary with all those tattoos and the two big scars across his chest and the jagged one along his jaw. Some women might find that attractive although she’d never admit to being one of those. He’d been rough yet he’d known how to touch her. Really touch her. Touch her in ways that makes a girl orgasm like she’s never orgasmed in her life.
Hurriedly she dropped her head so Grandmama wouldn’t see the telltale heat stinging her cheeks at the memories of the brute’s touching. Beatrice might be close to seventy-five, but she had a mind as sharp as a bacon slicer and a way of digging into someone’s thoughts to wrench the truth out. Anna had lost her parents in a plane crash a week before her sixteenth birthday and ever since, her grandmother had ruled over her life as though she worried her precious granddaughter might suddenly rebel. Fat chance of that happening when she’d be married off in two months.
“The wedding should have been announced in January, Annaliesa,” she heard her grandmother tsk. “Tongues always wag over short engagements.”
Anna sighed. Only Beatrice called her Annaliesa and she always managed to make it sound like a reprimand.
“Two months isn’t rushed these days, Grandmama. Anyway, after a three-year engagement everyone will be relieved. They must be sick of asking when the ‘young ones’ are going to tie the knot.”
“You should have married on your twenty-first birthday,” Beatrice reproached. “But you wanted a long engagement to finish your education and work in that art gallery you appear to love although I have no idea why you want to work at all. And of course, Julian is now twenty-eight and ready to start a family. He’s a fine man and I know you care for him.”
All true. Yet she’d still cheated and telling herself it was the drug was pure denial. She loved Julian yet something had always been missing in their relationship. Every day she told herself not to be one of those rich girls who didn’t appreciate what they had. Julian was hard working, good looking, kind and well bred. He brought her flowers, took her on the most exclusive holidays and made sure she wanted for nothing. Of course, he had a multinational company to run so he couldn’t always be there for her, but he called her every night when he was away and she couldn’t ask for a more considerate, attentive lover. So what was wrong? She’d found part of the answer last night on that filthy bed linen with that beast of a man. Whether she liked it or not, he’d upended her perfect life.
“Grandmama, what was it like being married to Grandpapa?” Anna asked on an impulse.
Her grandmother’s finely penciled brows rose. Beatrice always took great care with her appearance, never appeared without her makeup or her white hair drawn back in an impeccable chignon.
“Mortimer was a good man.”
“You must have loved him very much?”
The question drew a small shrug from her grandmother. “A Cabot woman’s duty is to be a good wife and mother. Mortimer and I were very fond of each other and he fulfilled his obligations as a husband and father. But we had different needs and eventually he took the convenience of a mistress.”
Anna sat back, astonished. “You mean he cheated? You seemed so happy.”
“I produced two daughters and a son… your dear father. My children were enough.”
“But—but that’s so old fashioned. Why did you stay with him? What about love?”
Her grandmother’s stern gaze landed squarely on Anna like a set of crosshairs. “Annaliesa, love is for romantic young girls, not for a Cabot heiress. I know you have doubts about marrying Julian, but he is the right man for you. I am aware that he spends a great deal of time away on business but once you are married and have secured the line with children, you will be more settled and be able to focus on your domestic life. And remember, Annaliesa, this marriage will make you the most powerful woman in both families. You will in time, be the matriarch.
Anna stared numbly at her grandmother as if seeing her for the first time. “Don’t you care about love, Grandmama?”
Beatrice reached over and patted Anna’s hand. “The only thing I care about, Annaliesa, is that my favorite grandchild is looked after in the way befitting her status. Now why aren’t you wearing your engagement ring?”
Anna stared gloomily down at her empty finger. “I forgot to put it on this morning.”
All morning she’d worried herself sick over losing the eight-carat solitaire. Three men, that awful man had told her. He had the car’s plate number, but no way was she going back to his loft to ask him for help. Anyway, if she went to the police with the number, her family would find out about the whole thing. Worse, she still had to tell Julian she’d lost his ring.
“You shouldn’t forget,” her grandmother scolded. “We don’t want people wondering if there’s something wrong. Considering who you are engaged to, people will notice the ring’s absence.”
Let them notice, Anna thought on a surge of resentment. Grandmama thought she knew her granddaughter, but Beatrice would never understand. If Beatrice knew about the doorman, Anna would be given the lecture of her life and bundled off to Europe until the wedding.
Beatrice’s phone buzzed so Anna took the opportunity to use the bathroom. Her bottom was black and blue, she knew that from inspecting it in the mirror this morning. It would take ages to get back to normal and somehow she had to find an explanation that would satisfy Julian. As painful as it would be, she’d go riding this afternoon and tonight over dinner, tell him she’d fallen and landed on her rear end.
Anna returned to the table to find Grandmama looking at Anna sternly. “That was Julian. He’s been trying to call you but the number is cancelled. He’s worried.”
“I lost my purse and cell,” Anna snapped, annoyed with Julian for calling her grandmother. “I’ve got a new phone and number and I’d appreciate it if you and he didn’t discuss me.”
“Would you care for dessert, dear?”
Typical of Grandmama to brush aside anything inconvenient. Anna felt so cross, she decided to abandon the rest of her lunch. “No thank you. I’m going riding.”
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br /> Grandmama pinched her lips together disapprovingly. “Really, Annaliesa, with all the planning to do, you can’t afford to be wasting time riding. I thought we might discuss your dress.”
“No need as I’ve decided to wear Mama’s wedding dress.”
“Oh… I see. Shouldn’t we talk about it before you make a decision?”
Anna sprang to her feet. “I’ll be late if I don’t go now.”
Before Grandmama could protest, Anna kissed her on the cheek and started for the door. Outside and still cross, she took a breath to relax. She had the whole afternoon to herself without Grandmama or Julian or anyone else who insisted on managing her life. It would be a painful afternoon but worth it for the solitude.
Hailing a cab, she gave the driver the address and settled back to text Julian her new number along with a message that she wouldn’t be home until late. She checked her emails. Two from Cristal, one from the beauty salon and one from an unknown sender.
Did you enjoy him last night, Anna?
Anna’s heart thumped so fast that she thought it would come out of her chest. Presumably, Gage, if that was his real name, had sent this. All along, he’d intended to blackmail her and now he wanted his payment. For all his rudeness, he’d seemed decent enough but what did she know about doormen? He had no money or he wouldn’t be living in that squalor and as dreadful as it would be, she had no choice but to go to his horrible loft and see him.
Instructing the driver to take her to Sixth Avenue, Anna climbed from the cab in front of the brute’s building, terrified of going inside but determined to get it over with.
The elevator creaked all the way to the top and as she stepped into the small foyer, a woman emerged from his loft. Older than her, blonde and in a leather skirt and high boots. She looked at Anna’s jewelry and raised a brow.
“I thought girls like you only worked the upper side.”
At first Anna didn’t know what she meant until the woman wiggled her hips. “Short on business, eh?”
Oh. My. God. “Um…”
“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of juice left in Gage’s tank so you won’t go home empty handed. But I’m surprised he can afford you on back to back dates.”
Anna, stuck for words, stared while the woman moved away from the door, gesturing for Anna to enter. “He’s in the shower if you want to join him. Ignore Axel. He’s in his crate.”
Anna stepped inside, hearing the loft door close behind her and the elevator banging on the descent. Standing in the middle of the enormous, sparsely furnished, concrete-floored loft she looked around, her eyes landing on the German shepherd who stared back at her through the crate’s mesh window. He didn’t growl so presumably he remembered her from last night.
The place didn’t look any better in daylight—unmade bed, clothes strewn across the floor, the kitchen countertop littered with beer cans and the remains of a pizza. A large punching bag hung close to a full-length window and close by, a floor to ceiling bookcase leaned from the wall in a dangerous fashion. She could hear the shower running so she waited by the window, her germophobe brain warning her not to touch anything.
It took ages before the shower went silent. A minute or so later, he emerged from the bathroom, wearing fitted white boxers and nothing else. As soon as he saw her, he stopped and looked at her with quiet eyes.
“Hello, princess.”
Anna stared at his chin. To get through this ghastly conversation, she had to keep her wits about her and that meant everything below neck-level was off limits. Desperately so.
“I want to talk to you, Mr. Gage or whoever you really are.”
He, on the other hand, had his eyes all over her ponytail, mini skirt and toe peep wedges with the black bows. “You look nice, ma’am.”
The compliment briefly distracted her. “I—I’m not here for niceties. That person who just left. She’s a ‘you know what’.”
One corner of his firm mouth lifted in a lazy smile. That smile alone said dirty sex. That and his striking gray eyes with the ridiculously thick eyelashes beneath the dark horizontal brow. A straight nose and a sharply planed jaw crossed by the scar and partially blurred by a neglected stubble. Handsome? In a brutish way. Sexy? God, yes. Dateable? Not in her world. Yet the sensuality emanating from the man could fell a woman on the spot.
A little breathlessly, she watched him studying her legs, hating the brazen assessment almost as much as she coveted the approval.
“I take it you met Amber on her way out,” he said, his eyes drifting to her low-cut top to study her breasts. “She’s good, Amber is. Nice body and knows her business.”
The man had no shame at all. “But she’s a… a…”
“So?”
“So she…”
His eyes lifted to her face, held mockery. “Earns an honest living? I doubt you’ve ever earned a living, princess.”
“Stop calling me that,” Anna retorted. “I don’t like it.”
He started walking toward her—the easy walk of a dominant man in control of his surroundings and those foolish enough to come within. A pair of flinted eyes drilled hers. If a stare could strip a girl of every thought in her head—his did, her brain had all but turned to a vacuum. Backing away from the penetrating gaze, she found herself flat against the window and she swore if it had been open, she’d happily have taken the drop.
He folded his arms, braced his feet wide.
Oh God, don’t do it.
She did it. She looked. Last night she’d not fully appreciated his body. Now it was there in all its glory. He was the size of a truck, tanned, hard and muscular and reeking of testosterone. Yet he wasn’t like the preening gym junkies she’d seen at the public gym where Cristal always went. This man had a thicker, more solid build as though he trained for something other than wanting to look good.
But that was only the beginning of Anna’s scrutiny. If her life depended on it, she couldn’t stop her eyes sliding to his white boxers. They’re only boxers and the pouch is designed to hold it like that, Anna scolded herself. Yet it didn’t quell the heat blossoming between her legs.
You’re an idiot, Annaliesa.
“If you want it, princess, it’ll have to be a quickie as I’m a little pressed for time.”
Cocky jerk.
He took a step closer forcing Anna to press flat to the glass. “Stay away from me, you vulgar man. I’m not here for that. I want my purse.”
Not the ideal way to open a conversation with a blackmailer but he didn’t seem to care as he wandered away to pick up a pair of ripped jeans from the floor. The oaf didn’t even look at her, which was probably a good thing because Anna couldn’t stop staring at the contents of the boxers being stuffed inside the button-fly jeans. Naturally he had to leave the top button undone in invitation.
As if?
Somehow Anna mustered up a tone. “Did you hear me?”
He glanced at her then. “I hear you, brat.”
How rude. “Then where is it?”
“There’s leftover pizza if you’re hungry.”
Anna stamped her foot. “I want my purse now!”
When he quirked a brow, Anna wanted to slap the smugness right off his face but that could be dangerous to a woman’s safety.
He sauntered to the kitchen, took a slice of pizza and bit off the end while looking at her thoughtfully. Anna waited, now worried about his too-casual manner. She shouldn’t have come here. So stupid of her to think he’d just give up her purse.
She was dithering over whether to leave when he tossed the rest of his pizza slice on the countertop and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“As I told you, your purse went with the guys in the limo. I’ll give you the plate number so you can follow it up with the cops.”
She tried another tack. “You know I can’t go to the police.”
“And why not?”
Refusing to give in, but stuck for what to say next, Anna gnawed her lip, a habit her grandmother hated. But then
Grandmama would have a stroke if she knew about any of this. She’d hold Anna personally responsible for destroying the Cabots’ reputation.
Face it, Annaliesa, you’ll have to pay him.
“I’ll give you whatever you want,” she said sulkily. “But I want your promise not to tell anyone about this.”
Frowning, he walked to her again, standing very close and Anna felt warmth rising from deep in her belly to tighten her nipples and flush her face. He breathed deep and Anna stared dumbly at his rising pectoral muscles to keep her eyes somewhere—anywhere from his probing gaze.
He lifted her chin. “What’s going on?”
In the gray depths, Anna saw genuine interest, but she twisted her face away, appalled at his pretense and even more appalled that she’d let herself down. “I want your promise, you imbecile.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw and his eyes darkened. “I don’t know what the problem is, princess, but like I said last night, maybe I can help.”
Unnerved by his offer, Anna stepped back, the heel of her wedge skidding on the concrete. As she stumbled, he caught her under the arms, lifted her straight up to his height and held her dangling at arms’ length, helpless. “Tell me.”
Anna had never been a crier, except when watching romantic movies and they didn’t count. Her life was too perfect for the need to cry. But like last night, she felt a tear spilling down her cheek.
“I hate you, Mr. Gage,” she wept, releasing all her pent-up frustration and anger and despair. “I hate what you did, I hate your revolting loft and I hate everything in it, including your dog.”
In silence he held her while she continued her rant. “And most of all, I hate that I…”
She couldn’t even say it, but he knew.
Still holding her high, he carried her to the sofa and lay her face down over the arm. Anna didn’t fight him, couldn’t fight, didn’t want to fight because this would make her feel alive. She felt her hips being positioned over the rolled arm, felt him push her head down into the sofa seat and her skirt being pulled up. His fingers lightly traced her bottom as though inspecting her bruises. Then he squeezed.