by Alison Aimes
“Rick is a dirtbag.” He flicked a piece of lint from his shirt. “His specialty is widows. It’s not my business how you go about securing your support. Everybody’s got their style. I’m just trying to help you avoid making a lonely hearts mistake.”
She reared back as if he’d slapped her. “Help me?” Her voice rose once again. That fake smile nowhere to be seen. “I don’t need your help, bless your heart.” She stepped closer. “You’re not the only one who does their research. I know all about Rick and his inclinations.”
“You know?” Anger surged. “And what? You think fucking the help is going to get you in good with Tyson? Think again.”
The minute the words were out of Alexi’s mouth he knew they weren’t really for her—and that he really was an asshole.
When searching for her next fix, Anastasia had slept with whomever, wherever, whenever.
But Lily Bennett wasn’t Anastasia.
This wasn’t ten years ago.
And he really should be way over that shit by now.
He opened his mouth to apologize—when she surprised him.
“Listen up, Mr. Arrogant Neanderthal Ass.” She stepped close, her minty breath whispering across his neck, a wild look in her eyes. “I don’t need any extra advantage to beat you, and I am getting damn sick of hearing you suggest I have any interest in exchanging sex for favors.” Her cheeks were flushed, her full red lips inches from his own, her drawl stronger than he’d ever heard. “When I have sex, it’s for the pure, raw pleasure of it. It’s not for business. It’s for the moans. And the gasps. And the hot, sweaty, raunchy thrill of archin’ my back while some guy plays with my tits and I scream and writhe as he drives inside me deep and hard.”
All sound receded. All blood, too.
Holy shit. Man down…man down—and dick up.
Up and hard and straining at that seam of his pants to get to her.
He was pretty sure his world had just shifted on its axis.
“Good to know what you like.” He barely got the words out, his voice rougher than he’d ever heard, raw, red-hot lust a chokehold around his throat.
By the triumphant look on her face, he could tell she was pleased with his reaction. Probably thought she’d shocked him. Probably thought she’d won this round. That the battlefield was hers to claim.
But he’d always liked this particular game.
He leaned in, his gaze locked on that incredible mouth. “But tell me, Lily, when he’s deep inside does he rock nice and slow?” Her eyes widened as he brought his mouth to her ear, letting his breath rasp against the delicate shell. “Does he take his time? Does he wait until you’re breathless and begging, your legs spread wide, your clit throbbing for his touch?”
A fine shudder wracked her body and he knew he had her.
Trouble was, he was caught as well.
He shifted closer. “When you swear you can’t take it anymore, that you need it hard and fast, does he flip you over? Does he take you from behind, his fingers working that tight bundle of nerves over and over as he thrusts deep and you scream and shudder and beg? Because that’s what I like. Because that’s what I’ll do when it’s you and me.”
“It…” She swallowed hard and then glared up at him. “It won’t ever be you and me.”
“I used to think that, too.”
Their gazes fused.
But it wasn’t anger in her heavy-lidded stare. It was dark, unwelcome need. It was the promise of a battleground scorched with back-clawing, raw, on-all-fours sex and a fight for dominance that could end with only one victor.
The ruthless bastard in him threw back his head and roared.
He was all in. “Lily—”
Out of nowhere, a flash exploded.
Chapter Five
The flare of light turned his rival’s skin yellowish green.
Words still caught in his throat, Alexi swiveled toward the sound.
“Mr. Kazankov? Lily? Are you two romantically involved?”
A mob of hungry-looking tabloid photographers barreled toward them, cameras and recording devices held high. “Kazankov, you’ve made no secret of your dislike for her late husband. Is this another way of sticking it to him? Lily, is Winslow Industries really near the brink of bankruptcy? Are you to blame?”
Typical reporter stupidity. Came with the territory.
Turning swiftly, he started back down the hall—there were very specific rules about intruding on hotel property—only to stop short when he realized his rival wasn’t right behind.
“Lily, were you upstairs in one of the hotel rooms? Are you looking for a new sugar daddy?” The shouts were getting louder. The questions uglier. “Do you think this type of sexually irresponsible behavior will make the board think twice about keeping you on as CEO?”
And he’d thought the fuckers were ruthless when it came to him.
Striding back, he grabbed his rival’s arm, ready to rip her a new one for reveling in the worst kind of publicity, when he caught a glimpse of her face.
She looked wrecked. Her breath coming fast and shallow. Each flash of their cameras, each question, making her jerk as if they’d landed a physical blow.
Shit. Revealing any flash of vulnerability to these bottom-feeders was almost as dangerous as showing it to him.
Jaw tight, he stepped in front, blocking her from their lenses, and roared. “Morales? Get over here. Now.”
Less than twenty seconds later, his head of security rushed forward with several other guards, forcing the reporters to stumble back or be flattened.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Alexi herded his still-frozen rival away from the doors.
Soon their section of the lobby was empty except for his team and a few nosy guests. The reporters’ shouts far enough away that it was easy to hear the short, quick inhales of the woman standing shell-shocked at his side.
“I need a minute.” He didn’t raise his voice or look at his team, but they knew. Without a word, they drifted the same way Morales and his men had gone, taking the straggler guests with them.
His rival still hadn’t moved.
“You okay?” Of their own will, his hands closed around her shoulders. The delicate bones beneath his hands underscoring a totally different side to the woman who’d just rocked his world with her dirty mouth. “You don’t look so good.”
Her eyes fluttered close, her long, brown lashes stark against her too-pale skin. “Then I guess you’ve accomplished what you set out to do.”
“I didn’t sic those bastards on us.” Though the question of who had gnawed at him. “You did note there were questions hurled my way as well, right?”
There was a pause. A nod. For some stupid reason, as if he cared what she thought, he breathed a little easier.
Until she spoke again. “But I also noted they didn’t call you by your first name. Or ask if you were hunting for a new sugar momma. Or suggest that being caught taking a nooner would damage your career.” She jerked her briefcase upward, her eyes flaring open. “I mean who the hell brings a briefcase to a quickie?”
“It’s definitely not the kind of leather I prefer.” When that didn’t provoke a glare or a smile, he shifted gears. “I’ll put Morales on identifying the culprit asap.” He had his suspicions, but it wasn’t wise to assume.
“No need.” Her spine snapped ruler straight once more. “My people are capable of looking into it.”
“Now’s not the time for a pissing contest.”
“For once you’re right.” Her smile was forced. Not wholly fake like the whoppers she’d been selling earlier, but tired. Quivery. Like she was forcing it to happen by sheer will alone.
Rising from the dead, that twinge of protectiveness turned into a full-fledged ninja with legs and drop-kicked him in the balls.
Shit. Raw, violent lust was one thing, but these flashes of protectiveness?
The urge to turn back around and strangle every reporter who’d put that shaky, scared look on her face?
In fact, it hurt like hell. Like a phantom limb he’d come to grips with losing—hell, been happy to lose—long ago.
Because he’d been here once before, and it hadn’t turned out well for either him or Anastasia.
This thing between us is going to be a problem.
How fucking right he’d been.
“You need to toughen up,” he told her. “So what if they ask you those kinds of questions? Who cares if they don’t give you the respect you want?” His hold tightened, as if he could will his indifference into her through touch alone. “If you’re going to make it in this business you can’t give a shit. You don’t have to be heartless, but you can’t let them know you have a heart.”
Her gorgeous eyes bore into his, as if she’d just figured out some mystery. “Is that what you do?”
Her stare was temptingly soft. Addictingly soft. The kind of soft where a guy started wanting to see that look all the time. Even if it came at the cost of his own interests. Or his promises to others.
“No, I don’t have a heart.” He dropped his hands, mental alarms blaring. “My situation is totally different. I’m a guy who’s worked his way up the ladder. You screwed a guy twice your age to get here. You’ve got to expect a rough ride.”
She stiffened, that soft look disappearing fast. “God, you are such an asshole.”
“Get used to it.” And don’t ever look at me like you just did. “Business is cutthroat. If you can’t handle it, you should sell me the company and use the cash to get the hell out of dodge.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I can handle the cutthroat environment just fine.” Her lush mouth stretched into a triumphant smirk. “I’d think your recent bank difficulties would have driven that home loud and clear.”
“A delayed merger is disappointing, but it’s hardly Armageddon.”
“If you think that’s the only trick I’ve got up my sleeve, think again. Your Armageddon has only just begun.”
“What else could you possibly…” Wait a sec. He drew up short, remembering an even more recent, rare business roadblock. “Are you the reason Beau Corporation just did a one-eighty on me this morning and rejected a buyout they’d agreed to not only two days before?”
She cocked her head like she was trying hard to remember. “That sounds vaguely familiar.”
Fierce lust hit hard.
He wanted this woman bad. Wanted to dirty her up. Break her down. Punish and reward. Pleasure and torment. To push her limits and see how far she’d go before all the fire she hid came roaring out to play. Then he wanted to go toe to toe with her on another deal and begin the whole fucking wild, brutal, hot-as-hell process over again.
Because, damn it, coupled with all that raw lust was a growing dollop of respect.
When he could least afford to feel either.
“Kazankov?” She stepped back, whatever she’d seen in his eyes wisely rousing her survival skills. “Not very pleasant when the shoe is on the other foot, is it?”
Better she misinterpret his expression than know the truth. “I had no idea you would play so dirty, Armageddon.” Even with the stakes clear in his mind, he couldn’t keep the rumble of lust from his tone.
“You started this. I would have preferred to keep things civil.”
Civil? He didn’t do civil, and he definitely didn’t want it with her.
But what he did want was all kinds of screwed up so he kept his hands exactly where they were and let her take another step back.
“Damn it.” The rap, rap of Tyson’s fast-moving cowboy boots clicked across the marble tiles, interrupting their glare-down. “I knew you were trouble. I don’t have the security to deal with that many nosy reporters, and my guests are complaining about the uproar.” He shook his head. “This better not be some kind of publicity stunt.”
Before he could think better of it, Alexi stepped in front of Lily. Opening his mouth to rip Tyson a new one.
Only to be elbowed aside.
“I was going to say the same to you.” His rival pinned the big man with a death glare. Not asking for respect. Demanding it. All fake polite smiles consigned to the trash heap. “After all, it’s your hotel that will be mentioned in all the papers tomorrow. Great publicity for you…at our expense.”
Tyson appeared to shrink—hard for a man his size, but apparently doable. “Me? Absolutely not. I would never jeopardize my board position for some sordid, fly-by-night publicity.”
“Good to hear.” Alexi picked up where his opponent left off. “Neither of us is interested in talking about the future of Winslow Industries with someone who engages in such tactics.”
“I’m not…I don’t,” stammered Tyson, looking horrified.
Guess they’d found his weakness, after all.
“Of course you don’t.” Lily smiled up at him as if she’d been born to the role of finisher. “We know you’re as committed to the health of Winslow Industries as we are.”
“That’s true.” Tyson’s chest puffed up three sizes.
“That’s why,” continued Armageddon, “we’d appreciate if you’d agree to set up another meeting with each of us.”
“No need.”
“Excuse me?” His rival’s angry, sexy-ass drawl was back.
Alexi braced himself, the earnest look on Tyson’s face raising all sorts of red flags.
“I’ve been talking with Paul,” confessed the Texan, his gaze shifting away. “I, ah, didn’t want to at first, but he made a good case for why he should be head. A lot of talk of continuity and the importance of tradition and respecting the line of power from father to son.”
“Paul Winslow?” His rival’s voice had reached near dog-hearing decibels. “My COO? He’s been meeting with you secretly to steal my job? After swearing to my face we’d handle our disagreements internally?”
That little weasel.
Not that Alexi expected any less from the man, but what he hadn’t expected was for Paul Winslow to be successful at keeping his backstabbing efforts quiet.
Which just proved the jerk was sneakier—and cagier—than his beady eyes and flat nose made him appear.
Lesson learned.
Alexi slid a glance toward his rival.
She looked poleaxed.
That phantom limb he hadn’t missed throbbed even harder.
Which pissed him off even more. Because the fact was, this piece of news was just as problematic for him as it was for her.
With Lily as head, the nervous board was proving a lot more welcoming to his takeover bid. If Paul managed to sink his claws into the job, Alexi’s task would be a lot harder.
“You can’t support Paul.” As expected, his rival was recovering fast, her pretty eyes once again flashing as she lectured Tyson in a voice thick with a Southern twang. “Russell respected tradition as much as the next and, for a long while, would have liked nothing more than to have his son follow in his footsteps, but…” She sucked down a long breath, and Alexi waited with curiosity to hear what kind of family skeletons she’d reveal. “In the end, he knew what was best for the company, and that was not Paul.”
Cop out.
Alexi was about to push her further when Tyson spoke. “I’m going to reserve judgment—and my vote—until the board meeting. If you want to change my mind, make your presentation a good one.” He nodded once, as if confirming his own clever plan. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to deal with this media mess.”
Silence descended as the big man walked away.
But the minute he turned the corner, she whirled toward Alexi, her big-ass briefcase banging his leg. “Did you know?”
“About Paul? No.” It grated to admit. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” Something that looked like pain flared in her gaze and it made his chest go tight—which was probably why he fumbled his next pitch so badly. “But if you’re ready to give up now, I’ll still give you a good deal. A way to get back at Paul and more money than you’ll make as CEO. More
money than you ever dreamed of when you were living in that trailer park.”
Her lips curled back in a definite snarl. “I will handle Paul. And I will handle you.” She pushed past him—and then whirled around—and he was pretty sure when her briefcase slammed into him this time it wasn’t an accident. “Oh, and a final point of clarification in hopes we don’t have to go over this again. It was never about the money. Not my decision to marry Russell. Not my decision to become CEO of Winslow Industries, either.” She hefted her briefcase higher. “You want to know what I dreamed about when I was living in that trailer park you’re fond of recalling? I dreamed of respect. I dreamed of power and having the means to tell condescending assholes like Tyson, Paul, and you to go screw themselves. I dreamed of never being helpless again. And that is exactly what I am going to get.”
He was a man who liked things simple. Ordered. Uncomplicated.
But, damn, he might just like her spirit even more.
He’d set out to educate his rival on the dangers of taking him on, but it felt like he was the one who’d been schooled.
Which was why he couldn’t resist a last parting shot. “Then may the best man win.”
Her knuckles turned white on her briefcase. “What if there’s none of those around? Just a Neanderthal business jerk and a tenacious woman who is going to kick his behind.”
Then, she strutted away, her flawless ass taunting him with every bit of fire and spirit he’d never get to sample.
Turns out some lessons were a real downer.
Chapter Six
Breathe in. Breathe out. She could do this.
Lily smoothed the folds of her navy skirt and repeated her introductory presentation lines, the sound bouncing off the tiny, airless conference room where she’d hidden herself away. Her Southern twang on full display no matter how hard she tried to calm her nerves.
But she’d handle it. She had to.
Thanks to Tyson’s revelation about Paul, she’d had no choice but to call for an emergency board meeting days sooner than she would have liked. Not exactly ideal since she’d wanted more time to prepare, but better than finding out about Paul’s treachery after she was out on her ass.