by Talyn Scott
“Evan.”
“Jealousy was eating me downstairs, having to see that stranger taste what’s mine. Now you’re running away from me while you’re mad at Drake.”
Vania hadn’t realized how much she’d hurt him. “I’m sorry.” She stood on her tiptoes, wincing when her heel snapped. “I will never do again.”
“I’ll hold you to that promise.” Evan wrapped his forearm around her lower back and hauled her against him. What was he really thinking while looking at her that way? She wondered at his gleam, not quite the usual predatory glimmer but something more, something uncertain.
Evan’s eyes dropped to Vania’s mouth, his thumb brushing back and forth over her bottom lip. When he slowly lowered it to hers and took it with his teeth, goosebumps exploded over every inch of her skin.
His tongue slipped inside as he dipped her back, a groan leaving his mouth while her heart gave an odd thunk in her chest. These feelings were tangling in her mind, in her heart, changing her life too soon. How was this happening in the middle of such chaos? Then she remembered what her grandmother had said about love always finding a way. Maybe…
When he pulled back on a small smile, Vania’s mouth moved faster than her head. “Evan, I’m fall —"
Flash.
Snap.
Flash.
Lights flickered all around, gaining breakneck momentum. But not one was from candles, hanging jellyfish lights, or even dance floor strobes. She groaned and covered her eyes. Yes, these particular flashes were irritatingly familiar.
Flash.
Snap.
Flash.
Vania turned blindly, listening to the questions hurled at Evan.
“Who’s the lady, Mr. Easton?”
Snap.
“Why is she holding her stomach?” A rush of escalating murmurs made her head spin. “Is she pregnant?”
Flash.
She punched the elevator call button.
Evan ignored them, focusing entirely on her, trying to protect Vania from the vultures by using his body as her shield. The move amped up picture taking and questions. This time around, Vania didn’t bother smiling prettily. They’d nearly caught her spilling an ‘I love you’ to Evan, a private moment that should’ve remained private.
Snap.
“Are you two serious?” a woman yelled, pushing her way through the gathering crowd. She appeared professional, in no way dressed like the club goers. Her clicking heels on the marble reminded Vania of Gayle Murphy’s determined stride.
Flash.
Orange circles danced in front of Vania’s vision. “I need to leave.”
Evan was trying to pull her the opposite way.
“No, I can’t walk through that crowd with my head bleeding,” she hissed. “God knows what the headlines will be tomorrow if I do.”
The elevator sounded. A woman walked out and Vania stepped in.
“No, wait,” Evan said, trying to keep her in hand. “We have to —"
“Deal with your admirers,” she begged, yanking away from his grip. “I’ll meet you and Drake upstairs.”
“That’s not the —"
Closing elevator doors cut him off. He didn’t press his hands inside the doors, going caveman on her and yanking her out. But Vania didn’t fool herself; she knew Evan would have if those cameras and cellphones weren’t going off at top speed.
She dropped her forehead to the cool mirrored wall. No work, no cameras, no ex fiancé manipulating her, and no shoe-welding ex-lovers were coming at her inside this tiny space of solace.
Only blessed peace…
Vania reached her hand to the panel and realized she couldn’t get straight to the sixth floor, which was obviously what Evan was trying to tell her.
“Just great.” Vania punched number four and figured she’d hop in the stairwell from the fourth floor, and then jog up the two remaining flights of stairs. This, she realized, would compound her aching heel.
The lights flickered as the elevator started moving, but it was plunging downward instead of heading to the fourth floor.
“No!” Vania shoved her fingertip against the four, pushing repeatedly, but the damn thing wouldn’t obey.
A sudden stop flipped her stomach. She waved out her hands, trying to regain balance.
From the side, a sliding sound caught her immediate attention. She looked over her shoulder, right as the mirrored wall divided and opened like a gliding pocket door. A blast of cool air hit Vania before the faint glow from a corridor beyond beckoned her from the elevator car.
No way, she thought.
She lifted her hand to her chest, trying to calm her heart, and then hit the elevator panel with her fist. When it wouldn’t go back up though the number four remained lit, she knelt, tore open the compact door hiding the emergency phone, and reached for the corded receiver.
“Hello?” She gasped, “The elevator’s not moving.”
Something glinted above her in the mirrored wall.
“That particular elevator,” a man with a bored tone explained, “moves every —"
A whirl of air sounded overhead right before the phone whipped from her hand, clattering across the elevator floor with its snapped wires trailing.
Vania screamed and spun, placing her back against the corner, but saw no one. “Who’s there?”
“Vania.” A man’s voice taunted her, echoing from the corridor. “Back to play?”
“No.” Her knees threatened to buckle, so Vania leaned forward, tented her fingertips over the floor, and readied to bolt. She lifted her chin, keeping her eyes straight ahead and tried to sound calm. “Not again, not ever again…”
A silhouette appeared in the doorway, the darkness a barrier against identifying him except for a stream of light glancing off his blonde hair. “You say no, yet here you are.”
With her heart leaping from her chest, Vania fought to concentrate, not to allow fear to dictate over sound judgment. “Who are you?”
“Vania, you came in my mouth,” he said in that all too familiar whisper-rasp, though she had no idea who he was. “I doubt you’ve forgotten. I know I haven’t.”
He took a step inside.
“I was misled,” she said. “I thought you were my fiancé at the time, or I wouldn’t have come here.”
“Well, that’s disheartening.” He took another step towards her.
“Stay back.”
The stream of light shone down his entire body, his eyes sparkling behind a black mask ending above his mouth, his body dressed in dark trousers and a thin chocolate-brown Henley.
Another step closer… “Did you get my flowers?”
“Yes.” Vania choked back a sob. “Were you watching me earlier, when I was on the balcony?”
“On the balcony? I’m not some nutty stalker.” He took the final step, and Vania was forced to stand. But she wouldn’t be cornered.
Feigning right, she darted for the corridor.
He grabbed her waist, swinging her back against the elevator wall, and Vania’s glasses skittered to the floor. “Let’s discuss a few things before you leave.” He used his legs to trap her. “We have chemistry most don’t. That’s hard to ignore.”
He caught her flying fists, his hands dwarfing her wrists.
“Stop!” Effectively trapped, Vania screamed, “Help! Somebody help!”
“Why are you screaming?” He sounded confused. “I don’t hurt women. When have I ever hurt you?”
Vania couldn’t believe how much stronger and larger he was than her. When up against her body, the man blocked out the entire elevator, and he smelled exactly like Matt. “Get off me, you freak!”
He lifted her wrists above her head. He gathered them in one of his hands, leaving the other free. When she pulled down with all her might, he appeared unconcerned but tightened his grip.
He cupped her jaw and took her bottom lip with his teeth, in the way of Evan, and bit down just shy of breaking skin. She knew he’d been watching them, that he was mimi
cking Evan’s earlier kiss. She screamed as he sucked on her lip for long seconds.
“You know my touch by now.” He trailed fingertips down her throat, fluttering outwards to her ear. “Why should you scream?”
“I don’t want you. It was a misunderstanding when we were together, remember?”
He cupped her throat, and Vania’s pulse accelerated against his palm. “Your heart beats for me, Vania, only me.”
She called out again with a desperate shout, but he squeezed her throat fractionally.
“You know my touch,” he repeated, “and your body anticipates me.”
“No!” She tried to charge forward but he held her throat steadily. “I anticipate… nothing from you!”
He spun her around and refastened his iron hold faster than she could blink.
Her cheek hit the mirror. “Don’t!”
His thigh wedged between hers from behind, lifting until Vania’s feet dangled off the floor. She reared her head backwards, trying to head-butt him but he saw it coming. He swerved and her head landed on his shoulder, where he captured her throat again.
“Get. Off. Me!”
He whispered against her ear with irritating calmness. “Not until we talk this through.”
“Help!”
“Vania!”
“Evan!” She shouted as the elevator doors started whining, metal screeching on metal. “I’m in here! He’s got me!”
“That’s right,” her attacker said, unaffected by her outburst. A shaft of light shot through the elevator doors. “I have you.”
“No!”
He bit down gently on Vania’s neck, right beneath where Gayle left a mark.
She screamed out her fear and frustration until her voice broke.
“Soon,” he whispered.
Vania kept her hands pressed to the mirrors, her startled breath whooshing to and from her body, as he disappeared into the dimly lit corridor.
“Vania!” Drake’s hands came through first before he completely stepped into the elevator. He grabbed her hard, smothering her against him.
She pulled away on a sob, pointing shakily to the corridor. “He was here, the same man, the blonde man,” she rambled. “He’s insane…sent the flowers… thinks we’re together.”
“He’s a deadman!” Evan pushed past a burly man wearing an earpiece.
The man snagged Evan by the arm and shook his head. “Let me do my job, Mr. Easton, without worrying about you.”
Evan’s nostrils flared but he backed off.
Then the man pulled a gun from his jacket and disappeared into the corridor. More security rushed down the hallway, their shoes a beating echo on the marble floor.
“Are you hurt?” Drake asked.
“Only scared.”
Evan tossed down a crowbar and hugged her.
They led Vania to another elevator. She dug in her heels at the sight of it. “I won’t go in.” She shouted, “Not another elevator tonight!”
“You’re bleeding and freaking out,” Evan said roughly. “I’m not taking you through the stairwell where the freak could be hiding. I need you back upstairs in my apartment.”
“I’m not going back there,” Vania argued. “I’ve had enough of Club Saturday. I’m not safe here!”
Chapter 22
Vania hissed when Evan dabbed alcohol on the back of her head. “Sorry, Baby.” He kissed beneath her injury.
They met eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “I’m fine.”
The only place she’d allowed Evan and Drake to take her was her current home, the firehouse’s loft. Her men agreed only after a boatload of security arrived first, since Vania’s assailant disappeared without leaving a clue, not even tonight’s security footage from the elevator could identify him.
Club Saturday’s security was on full alert, going through all digital footage from the club, concentrating first on entrances and exits. Plus, Evan and Drake had brought in private security kept on retainer by The Easton Company, and then sent out private investigators. How much was this costing? She couldn’t imagine. But Matt should get the bill.
No one, especially Vania, wanted to involve the police. Elevators for swingers would be frowned upon in the eyes of the law, and she didn’t need her story leaking out to the press via an official investigation. Finding herself in the center of a scandal wasn’t her first choice. Her stalker would have to be found by Easton devices. Still, as Evan said earlier this evening, finding her assailant was needle meet haystack when all they had to go by was blonde hair.
“You’re already bruising around the cut.” Evan tried to hold back his anger but his jaw was knotting from the effort. “Not as bad as I expected, but you’re going to be sore tomorrow. Or today, actually,” he said, glancing at his watch, “since it’s close to four in the morning.”
“Because of the bruises Matt left,” she explained, holding up her arms, “I can’t wear my strapless gown to the fundraiser.” Her eyes narrowed on her hair, her vision blurry without her glasses. “Because of Gayle Murphy, I guess I won’t be wearing my hair up, either.”
“You’re worried about your dress?” Evan gaped. “I’m calling off the damn fundraiser!”
“You will not!” Her hand stilled on her neck, the soapy washcloth pink with blood. “I’m not quitting Avery and the burn center — which really needs this infusion of donations, by the way — because of freaks and assholes. I don’t bow down to fear.” When he opened his mouth to argue further, Vania held up a hand. “I have this peace because you and Drake have enough security around me to keep even the president safe.”
“It’s not enough for me.”
“That freak overpowered me, frightened me, and threatened me. But do I have to crawl inside my body to escape him?” She huffed, tossing the washcloth on the tub and hitching her hands on her hips. “Not when I have two billionaires for lovers. Your money is buying me enough protection.” She tilted her head. “Thank you, by the way.”
“Don’t thank me.” He licked his lips. “You haven’t seen the shit spreading across the internet about us yet.”
“Let me guess,” she groaned. “Your tongue in my mouth?”
“For starters…”
“I guess you stated your claim then,” she growled at him, remembering what he’d said about a public claiming since he’d never kissed a woman for the world to see.
“Hmmm.”
She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Evan, where’d you go?”
“Um… Yeah, and those pictures with Gayle? They’re saying she’s my old lover instead of Drake’s and that you two were fighting over me in the bathroom.”
“My mother will see that… and the office!” She started tapping her bare toes on the tile, restless anger coursing through her. “Tell me they got my good side, at least.”
“Hmmm…” He wiped a shaky hand over his mouth.
“Evan, what’s wrong with you?” She stepped closer. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“It’s hard to concentrate when you thrust your chest out indignantly, bouncing around, all furious and… lush,” he whispered as though he were in pain, closing his eyes for a second and swallowing hard.
Vania glanced down her body. She stood in only frayed pajama shorts. “I didn’t want to get my camisole wet while washing off the blood.”
“That’s sensible but my dick reacts all the same.”
Her eyes traced the tribal looking ink that started at the curve of his shoulder and completely engulfed one arm. She reached out and trailed swirling lines until she landed on the elastic band of his boxer shorts. He was so drool worthy that Vania’s nipples tightened to rigid, pink peaks, begging for his mouth. “My body reacts to you, too.”
His eyes fixed on her breasts. “Are you wet for me?”
“Very much.”
With a frustrated growl, Evan stepped back as far as he could in the tiny bathroom. “Not tonight.” He shook his head. “Not after the vile touch of that bastard.�
�� He took a deep breath, his cheeks red with sudden rage. “But I would hold you while you get a few hours of sleep.”
Erasing her assailant’s touch was what Vania needed from Evan and Drake. But she knew a dead-end argument when it stared her in the face. “Yes, that would be my second choice,” she said, pulling her hand away from the ebony trail leading to what Vania wanted, “so let me know if you change your mind.”
He appeared so aggrieved by the loss of her touch that she thought he would change it on the spot. Instead, he cleared his throat and inched back. “Avery would understand us canceling the fundraiser.”
“This again?”
“Vania, please, were expecting three hundred guests. And though that’s a low turnout due to the size of this property, it’s a large enough crowd to —"
“I won’t go.” She held up both hands in surrender. “If I’m causing you so much worry that you would cancel, I’ll orchestrate everything behind the scenes today, with your security hounding my heels.” Her heart sank; she wanted to see the final party, needed that sense of accomplishment. “During the fundraiser, you can put me in one of the villas with bodyguards while you and Drake escort Gilda.”
“The look on your face, you’re killing me.” He leaned against the wall, letting the back of his head clip it a few times. “I’ll personally call our hotel boutique and tell the manager to send over an assortment of clothing and accessories first thing in the morning.”
Her heart squeezed. “You will?”
Evan wrapped his hands around her waist, his fingers moving in faint circles. “Last minute means everything will be off-the-rack, but you’re so beautiful the snobs won’t notice your dress.”
“I haven’t worn a custom made dress.” She nearly laughed at his expression but managed to hold back. “The dress I was going to wear is beautiful, though.” She shrugged and his eyes skipped to her breasts. “It’s from a wedding I attended last Christmas, and it was from a local department store.”
He raised a censoring eyebrow. “While you were on Matt’s arm, I’m guessing.”
“Though I’ve been given a generous raise and an incredible, temporary home, I haven’t money to burn on clothes for these functions.” Vania placed a kiss on his chest, strategically over his heart. “So, thank you in advance for the dress and for arranging security so I can attend.”