by Diana Seere
Lilah could relate. Her first day on the job, she’d had sex with a forbidden club member. During work hours. On business property. On a table. “I’m not so good myself with that willpower thing,” Lilah muttered.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re perfect.” Molly clapped her hands together and jumped up. “Well, you’d better get going. Eva is cool underneath that dominatrix boss-lady thing, but there’s no reason to push it when you’re new.”
If only she’d remembered that last night. She rose. “Thank so much, Molly. I can’t tell you how much better I feel. I owe you one.”
“Aw, no you don’t. I didn’t do anything.”
“You made me smile. Let me buy you a drink sometime, OK? Not in the club. Out in the real world.”
“It’s a deal. I’m free every Tuesday. I love movies too. When I’m not being a slut, I go to the movies with girlfriends. Want to go?”
Lilah would be glad to make a new friend, and now she had a job to pay for the little frivolous things she’d been denying herself. “I’d like that.”
Molly patted her arm. “I’ll text you. Any movie. I don’t mind anything once or even twice.” She snorted. “I’m easy, remember?”
Laughing, Lilah said good-bye and took the infamous elevator upstairs. With each moment, the lighthearted relief she’d found in Molly’s company began to fade away, leaving a growing sense of anxiety, tension, and, yes, desire. The moment she entered the Platinum Club, she knew he wasn’t there.
Thank God, she told herself, although she felt tears come to her eyes. She’d make herself believe it eventually.
Her second shift went more smoothly than her first, and she began to snap out of her exhausted daze and enjoy it. The art and science of working a crowd always gave her a buzz. But even when she served People magazine’s “Hottest Man Alive” a martini, it wasn’t the kind of buzz she wanted.
Without him, she knew she’d never feel that kind of buzz again.
Gavin. She finally knew his name.
“Did I mention last night, Lilah sweetheart, that there’s a barista in the reading lounge café who makes a killer macchiato?” Carl asked.
She’d been standing at his drink station, staring into space. Shaking her head, she lifted the tray he’d put there at least a full minute earlier and gave him a grateful smile. “I’m OK, but thanks. You’re a doll.”
“I couldn’t sleep for two days when I started.” He rolled his eyes. “And not because I had company. Or wanted any. Just couldn’t turn off my brain.”
“It’s overwhelming,” she agreed. Even without the frenzied sex in the wine cellar.
“I’ll send Zoe over to get the java. Hang in there. You’ve only got another two hours.”
“Thanks, but I’d better not. I don’t want anything keeping me awake tonight,” she said.
Suddenly Carl tapped her wrist, his voice dropping. “Especially not with that guy over there. I meant to warn you about him yesterday.”
Her heart began to pound against her ribs. A familiar tingle—but very faint, more like a tickle—brushed her temple. Not breathing, she slowly turned to look where Carl was staring.
A huge guy with long black hair was laughing at the other end of the bar. Handsome guy, clearly coming on to the woman in a beige suit sitting by herself drinking an Austrian white wine with six names that Lilah had struggled to remember when she’d relayed it to Carl. The woman was blushing, touching her hair.
Relief flooded Lilah. “Don’t worry,” she told Carl, laughing. “Not my type.”
“He’ll make you his type if you’re not careful.”
“Don’t worry,” she repeated. “What’s his name?”
“Derry Stanton. One of a brood. The Stantons—” he cut himself off, his gaze fixed across the room. He tucked his lips into his mouth and looked down. “Eva’s watching. Better get moving.”
One of a brood? Oh my God. There’s more of them. Mind racing, she served the drinks, giving Eva a pleasant and professional smile as she worked.
She’d have to get Carl alone and ask him about this brood of Stantons.
After her tray was empty, it was time for her break. Maybe she would go grab a latte. She slipped out the door that headed to the café. But when she saw that her path was blocked by two senators and a cable news reporter, she gracefully pivoted on her newest designer heel to return to the lounge. She’d have to settle for a soda.
“Couldn’t bear to leave me?” rumbled a low, mocking voice.
A familiar voice.
But the body in front of her wasn’t the one she’d hoped and feared. Her gaze followed the burly chest up to broad shoulders, a square jaw, blue eyes, and long black hair. Derry, Carl had said. Gavin’s brother?
He wasn’t blocking her way or anything creepy like that, just loitering near the door with a boyish smile on his face.
She liked him instantly. And not in any way that would get her into trouble. “That’s it,” she said, smiling back. “I couldn’t bear it.”
His eyes widened at her words, amusement tickling the edges. She couldn’t understand what was so funny, but she’d go with it.
Stepping into the doorway with her, he looked over her shoulder at the powerful men in the corridor. “Hate that guy. It’s always a pleasure to vote against him.”
“Which one?”
“Both of them.”
She laughed, then had to put her hand over her mouth. Her own opinion was the same. “I’m just heading back to the bar. Can I get you something?”
He grinned. “You are forward, aren’t you?”
Again she had to laugh. “Good quality in a waitress. What are you drinking?”
He put a hand on his chest. “The sight of you, fair maiden.”
“Save it, big guy. Scotch on the rocks?”
“How’d you guess?”
“Saw what you were drinking earlier.”
He wiggled his dark, slanted eyebrows. “Couldn’t take your eyes off me, could you?”
“How could I? You block the sun.” She knew this was the way to handle a guy like this; teasing gave her room to reject him without any hard feelings. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll pine every moment that you’re away,” he said. And then, “You can bring it to that table over there near the fire.”
“You mean, near the gorgeous redhead?”
He shrugged. “I have to console myself somehow.”
Lilah was still smiling as she strode away. If only she’d been able to handle the other Stanton so easily.
A man stood up from a table and blocked her way. Wallbanger Webb. “How about turning some of that smile in my direction?” He was about forty, blond and handsome but—she recognized the signs immediately—drunk. Came with the territory.
“My pleasure.” Stepping out of lunging range, she smiled at him and kept going. Luckily, he wasn’t in her section.
“Hey there, not so fast.” He caught her arm with unexpected dexterity. Before she thought it was inappropriate enough to signal for help, he released her. “Forgive me. I was just going to ask your name. I’ve never seen you here before.”
A diamond stud glittered in his ear. She guessed that Botox had smoothed away the first wrinkles on his brow. And even drunk, not a hair of his perfectly trimmed blond head was out of place.
“Lilah. I’m new.” Exaggerating a sigh, she pointed at the bar. “Lots to learn.” She granted him another smile and moved to go.
“Don’t worry about them. I’m a member. Making me happy is job one.” He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her toward his table. She was bigger than him, but he had the wiry strength of a man who spent hours with elite personal trainers, and she stumbled against his side. “Careful. Looks like I’m not the only one enjoying the drinks tonight.”
Before Lilah could accidentally-on-purpose drive her stiletto into the creep’s instep, Carl appeared with a plate from the restaurant. They didn’t serve filet mignon and endive salad at the bar, but you could
ask for anything to be brought to you.
Almost anything.
“Mr. Webb, your steak is ready.” Carl maneuvered the creep to the table, did something with his feet, and suddenly the guy was slumped in his chair. “Sorry for the delay.”
Frowning, Mr. Webb looked around in confusion. Carl got between him and Lilah and unfurled a white napkin. “Shall I send for freshly ground black pepper?” Carl asked.
“I didn’t order anything.” Licking his lips, Mr. Webb stared at his plate. “Did I?”
“I’m so sorry. I’ll send it back.” Carl reached forward to remove it.
Mr. Webb grabbed the platter with both hands. “Oh, that’s right. Of course. Took you long enough.”
Carl waved his hand behind his back, telling Lilah to take off. “As I said. We’re terribly sorry for the delay.”
She was already making her escape, stifling another laugh.
Carl was awesome. She was so lucky to be working with him. Even when the job was a challenge, it was fun.
Even without Gavin, she was going to be happy.
She was.
“You are a complete and utter fool, Gavin. I never would have expected it,” Derry announced as he walked into Gavin’s quarters at the Stanton estate. A month had passed since they’d seen each other at the club.
The club.
Lilah. He couldn’t escape her, could he? Three weeks now since they’d had their encounter. Three weeks of sheer agony, craving her every single minute. Fleeing west hadn’t helped. Secure at his desk, managing business affairs and making executive decisions, he’d thought coming home to the family compound would give him some space. Distance. Relief. There’s no place like home.
And there was no place quite like the Stanton compound.
Between the London money, the Colorado gold rush, mineral rights, and a land grab that rivaled the Louisiana Purchase, the Stanton family now owned about one tenth of all the private land in the western United States.
Except no one knew it.
And Asher intended to keep it that way.
The sprawling main house on the ranch was about as ranch-like as a palace in London. Tobias Stanton and his first wife, Cordelia, had produced two boys. His second wife, Alicia, had given him twins, a boy and a girl. Wife number three had been Gertrude, who had produced yet another son.
Spread apart in years, the Stanton children shared a father who bound them as tightly as full siblings ever could be. Tobias’s father before him had sired exactly one child: Tobias. With no cousins to compete, this meant that Asher, Gavin, Derry, Sophia, and Edward shared equally in the ranch’s holdings and earnings. Asher and Edward lived at the ranch full time, while the other three Stantons split their time between Boston and Montana.
The main house was the center of a complex system on the land, much like the sun at the center of a solar system. Gavin had his own home, a five-minute walk from the main house, a simple five-bedroom, solar-powered home that was built into a berm and hidden from the bustle of the ranch’s activity by a verdant cluster of trees and brush.
A natural mineral spring burbled in his backyard, overshadowed by a rock formation that provided ultimate privacy. He’d had a courtyard designed for the rare moments when he had the luxury of leisure time.
He wondered what Lilah would think of his little haven.
What would Lilah look like, naked, swimming in the steamy waters, peering up at him with those doe eyes?
Oh God.
“Lilah,” Derry said, waving a thick, meaty palm in Gavin’s face.
Startled, Gavin narrowed his eyes, careful not to move a single muscle again. “Now you can read my mind?”
Derry’s dark eyebrow rose. “I don’t need to read your thoughts, Gavin. They’re written all over your face. And if you stood, I could read them through your trousers.”
“Don’t be vulgar.”
“Then don’t be coy.”
Gavin laughed, then cleared his throat. “Gavin and coy do not belong in the same sentence.”
“And Lilah and not here don’t either. Are you out of your fucking mind, leaving her alone like that?”
“You met her?” Gavin asked, hands curling on the edge of the antique oak partner’s desk. The wide slab of polished tree gave him a good eight feet of distance between him and his younger brother.
“I did. She served me.”
Gavin gave him a hard look.
“Said she couldn’t bear to leave me.”
Gavin growled, nostrils flaring. He didn’t begin to shift. Not one bit. The legend was true then. Mating with Lilah had taken that instability away.
Or, perhaps, the silly legend was just that—silly. He simply had a blip in his body and experienced a strange period of loss of control.
He liked that explanation better.
“You stay away from her,” Gavin warned in a low voice.
Derry reached over and picked up a small paperweight on Gavin’s desk. A piece of amber with a feather perfectly preserved in it. As a small child he’d been drawn to it and had kept it for all these decades.
“Her eyes are darker than this amber, but when she smiles it’s as if they lighten,” Derry said, contemplative.
Gavin’s skin prickled. The idea that Derry had paid enough attention to notice that filled Gavin’s veins with rage.
“I mean it, Derry. This is not up for discussion. She’s off-limits to you.” To everyone.
“Is she really the One, Gavin?” Derry set the piece of amber down, his own eyes snapping up to catch Gavin’s. They looked at each other for a few steely seconds. “Because if I ever meet mine, I won’t hop on a plane the next day and fly two thousand miles away to leave her in the company of men who flock to her like moths to a flame.”
Gavin’s breathing quickened, his hands clutching the edge of the desk so hard he was certain he would find marks in the wood where his fingers pressed in.
“You’re doing your best to fuck every woman in the world in an effort to meet your One, Derry,” Gavin replied, willing his voice to remain even. “Leave mine alone.”
Derry held up his hands, palms up. “Oh, I will. You don’t need to worry, Gavin. I can look, but I won’t touch.”
Gavin’s grip lessened slightly.
“But I can’t say the same for the hundreds of men who are in Lilah’s luscious company each night at the club.”
A popping sound made them both flinch and look at Gavin’s hand. A small crack appeared in the glass that covered the desk.
Derry let out a snort of amusement.
“As I said when I came in, Gavin. You’re a complete and utter fool.”
“For coming here to do business as usual?” Gavin’s answer was weak, but it was all he could manage as he extracted his finger, a sliver of glass cutting a tiny line in the skin along the knuckle. Red bloomed, filling in the cut.
Derry gave him a perplexed look, his features more genuine. Blue eyes that mirrored Gavin’s seemed sympathetic for a moment.
“For thinking that any part of your life is business as usual now.”
And with that, Derry left Gavin to his broken desk and his fractured life.
Chapter 9
“ETA to Logan is 6:21 p.m., sir,” Gavin’s pilot announced over the intercom. Twenty minutes. Gavin itched to go for a run, to shift and explore in the night, to have the freedom to reach a state of mental oblivion that untied him from feeling so out of control.
More than anything, though, he itched to touch her.
As much as he was loathe to admit it, Derry was right. How stupid had he been, thinking that by giving her the space she asked for he could—what? Go back to life before meeting her? Help her to maintain some sense of normal? There is no going back when you cross a line that changes you.
Gavin and Lilah could avoid each other, but only to delay the inevitable.
And the inevitable was simple:
She’s mine.
The plane landed so smoothly it was like gliding into b
utter. Roger and his family had been piloting Stantons around the globe for seven decades now in various private aircraft, maintaining a mastery over new technology and keeping the family safe and, most important—on time. Gavin checked his watch as the plane taxied in to the gate.
6:21 p.m. exactly.
Ten minutes later, Manny greeted him with his limousine and a neutral expression.
“Welcome back to Boston, Mr. Stanton. Business or pleasure?” Gavin thought he saw Manny’s nose twitch with amusement.
“Both.”
“Of course.” Gavin climbed into the limo, and within half an hour he was at his penthouse, drink in hand. No Asher hiding in the shadows this time.
And no Lilah in his arms.
Yet.
Gavin was a planner. He needed time to think. Needed to mastermind. Needed to strategize and create the optimal—
Oh, fuck it.
He needed her.
Out the door in seconds, he found Manny at the limo, ready as always. Gavin climbed in and before he could say the words, Manny asked, “The Platinum Club?”
Gavin sighed.
Was it really that obvious?
By the time they pulled up to the skyscraper that housed the club, Gavin had a plan. He would ask her out for dinner. Some place very private and very good. Lilah deserved the best.
She was scared. She was wary. And she was searching for the same connection he was, and knew full well that this was destiny. Fate. They could not escape whatever this was.
A conventional date would help to normalize him.
He strode into the club and nodded to Carl, who immediately began preparing a whisky for him. By the time he walked past the bar, Carl said quietly, “Your drink, Mr. Stanton.”
“Thank you, Carl. Perfect as usual.”
The dark-haired man with the smooth smile simply gave him a polite grin.
“Anything new at the club, Carl?”
“We have a new red wine from a small vineyard in Napa, and a white from Chile that is quite dry. Perfect with sea bass,” Carl said.