by Cynthia Sax
“Your secret admirer remains elusive.” Jacob holds a plain brown cardboard box. “No one had time to track him this morning, due to the big storm.”
I grasp the package. “The power was out for hours.”
“Mr. Rainer was very angry about the generators.” The security guard grimaces. “I wouldn’t want to be the CEO of that company.”
Mr. Rainer didn’t call me once during the night to verify if I was okay. As soon as this disloyal thought crosses my mind, I smother it with excuses. Nicolas must have been busy, taking care of the other occupants. He thought I could take care of myself.
He was wrong. But thankfully Hawke rescued me. Again.
“And then there was Mr. Rainer’s tree.” Jacob clucks his tongue.
“His tree?” I grip the box tighter, bending the cardboard. “What happened to his tree?”
“Didn’t you hear the big boom?” Jacob’s eyes widen dramatically. “I was told it was deafening.”
I stare at him, confused. “What was the cause of the boom?”
“The tree was struck by lightning,” the security guard explains. “Split it into two.”
“What?” Any hurt feelings about Nicolas not calling me vanish. My billionaire loves that tree, built the complex around it. “Can he save it?” It has survived for over a century. How could one storm destroy it?
“It might have been possible to save it.” Jacob shrugs. “But Mr. Rainer has decided to remove it.”
Nicolas believes in lasting relationships, on consistency. Removing the tree would cause him pain, pain he’s silently enduring alone.
“Thank you, Jacob.” I place the box beside the flowers and wine. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to make a call.” I close the door and hurry to my room.
The phone is exactly where Hawke said it would be, set beside the ugly lantern. I press Nicolas’s number. It rings four times.
“Nicolas Rainer.” My billionaire sounds exhausted, his usual curtness missing.
“Did you sleep at all?” I wander to the window and gaze down at the park.
“No.” Nicolas stands facing the tree, his back toward me. He’s wearing the same suit he wore yesterday, his shoulders slumped as though the weight of the world rests on them. Men in hard hats and orange vests attack his beloved tree, chewing limbs with chain saws, hacking at the trunk with axes. A wood chipper spits out its remains.
He’ll never again watch its leaves turn red in the fall, string lights on its snow-laden branches during the winter. A sturdy blue-eyed, brown-haired boy won’t look at it with wonder, viewing the stars hovering within his reach.
I press my fingertips against the window, seeking to be closer to my distraught billionaire. “Oh, Nicolas, your tree.” The glass is as cool and as unyielding as fate.
“I can’t talk about it.” Emotion thickens his voice. “Not now.”
My executive doesn’t want to lose control, not in public, not in front of his people. He’s trying to be brave, strong. “I understand. What can I do?”
Nicolas runs his fingers through his thick black hair. “I need twenty minutes where no one can find me or call me. This is a disaster but I can’t think anymore and it’s making things worse.”
“Come to my condo.” I rip the sheets off my bed, preparing for his arrival, eager to do something, anything to comfort him. “I’ll take your phone and you can sleep in my room. No one will look for you here.” Except Hawke, and he’s dealing with his own emergency. I keep this information to myself.
“Give me.” He turns his wrist and looks at his watch. There’s a long pause. My poor exhausted man must not be able to focus his eyes. “Half an hour.” He sways on his feet.
“You won’t last half an hour.” I shake my head as I remove the spare sheets from the closet. My billionaire works too damn hard, and this makes me angry.
“I have to last.” Nicolas sighs. “See you in half an hour, Bee.” There’s a click and silence.
I rush around the bedroom, making the bed, folding the used sheets, and placing them in the laundry hamper. My shower is as hurried, Hawke’s scent and other remnants of last night quickly washed from my skin.
I dress in black pants and a mint green blouse, and hide my former marine’s massive T-shirt behind other clothes in my closet. The shirt is distinctive. Nicolas will know who gave me the hideous garment.
Having ten minutes to spare, I open Lona’s envelope. It contains more hundred-dollar bills than I’ve seen in my life and a note:
I’m sorry, Belinda. I never meant to hurt you and I know this money won’t compensate for what I’ve done. I’ll announce my replacement soon and the gossip should fade.
Lona
The gossip might fade, but it will never completely stop. I count the bills. She’s given me five thousand dollars, over three months of wages. I tuck the envelope in the drawer of the nightstand. This money will be needed to pay for first and last months’ rent on an apartment for me, the next month’s rent for my mom. I wander back to the kitchen, set the wine bottle on the counter, put the flowers in one of Cyndi’s crystal vases.
I hesitate only for a moment before opening the box Friendly, aka Nicolas, sent me. There’s no extra time to savor the suspense this morning, and the box has to be opened. It’s important to Nicolas. I’m important to Nicolas. With all of the craziness of last night and this morning, with no sleep and the loss of his beloved tree, my mysterious texter didn’t forget my reward.
I kneel on the floor, my heart pounding. “Your Reward” is typed across the expected piece of card stock. I remove it and press trembling fingers against my lips. One of Tiffany’s world-famous blue boxes is nestled within the package. It isn’t a ring, it’s too large for that, but that doesn’t matter. I love everything the store carries.
I lift the blue box. Another, larger brown box is nestled underneath it. This box is labeled “Open In Private.” My texter, whom I suspect is Nicolas, watches me. He realizes I sometimes open his packages with Cyndi.
I return my focus to the blue box, wishing I could draw out the reveal, guess at its contents. There’s no time to speculate. Nicolas will arrive soon.
I take a deep breath, open the box, and gasp, filling my lungs with even more air. An elaborately engraved sterling silver hairbrush shines against a blue satin pouch. I exhale. This hairbrush, Friendly’s gift, is almost too beautiful to use. I skim my fingers over the delicately crafted flowers decorating the back. Is this really for me?
My phone buzzes against my hip. It’s text-message spam from my service provider, but it reminds me that I don’t have the luxury of oohing and aahing over my reward.
I reluctantly set the hairbrush aside and remove the second package. It’s much bigger and heavier than the box from Tiffany’s.
I untie the ribbon, nudge the lid aside, and my cheeks heat. Oh my God. I gaze around me, ensuring I remain alone, and I take a second look. I wasn’t mistaken. Nicolas, my publicly conservative billionaire, has sent me a dildo, a sex toy.
It’s unlike any dildo I’ve ever seen, the sex toy made of pink and clear glass. The design is exquisite, almost beautiful, the colors twirling under the surface. Its thickness and length aren’t as impressive as Hawke’s real equipment, yet it is larger than any of my previous lovers. It’s a fuckable piece of art.
Nicolas is a pervert, a freak as I am. A warmth spreads across my chest, a sense of acceptance. He must have heard about the lunch, been told about the rumors, and this is his way of saying he understands, that he has secrets also.
A tube of lemon-scented lube accompanies his shocking gift. My lips twitch. I’ll smell like the cleaning supplies I often use. It’s touching that he noticed this small characteristic about me.
The lube isn’t a casual gift. Although there are no additional instructions, I know this will be featured in the next reward mission. I pack the brush and the dildo back in the boxes and carry them to my bedroom. Will I play with it in front of the window tonight? Or in another public pla
ce? Will I be alone?
I place the brush on the vanity. Normally I conceal all of my personal things, aware that the space isn’t truly mine, ready to move to the next apartment, but the brush is too pretty not to be displayed.
It’s proof that Nicolas has forgiven me. He must have. I hum as I hide the box with the dildo next to Hawke’s shirt. He sent me a reward and plans to sleep in my bed. He wouldn’t do this if he intended to sever our relationship.
If Nicolas, a man hyperconscious of his reputation, chooses to ignore the rumors about me, my friendship with Cyndi might also endure. I might not lose my best friend, my home, or my two men. My head turns toward the window and my chin lifts. Hawke is right. I will survive this.
Want to know what happens next for Bee, Nicolas, and Hawke?
SINFUL REWARDS 6 is available December 16.
About the Author
CYNTHIA SAX lives in a world filled with magic and romance. Although her heroes may not always say “I love you,” they will do anything for the women they adore. They live passionately. They play hard. They love the same women forever.
Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research, while they travel the world together, meeting fascinating people and finding inspiration in exotic places such as Istanbul, Bali, and Chicago.
Please visit her on the web and sign up for her release day newsletter at http://cynthiasax.com/.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
Also by Cynthia Sax
Sinful Rewards 4
Sinful Rewards 3
Sinful Rewards 2
Sinful Rewards 1
Breaking all the Rules
Flashes of Me
The Seen Trilogy
He Claims Me
He Touches Me
He Watches Me
Give in to your impulses . . .
Read on for a sneak peek at five brand-new
e-book original tales of romance from Avon Impulse.
Available now wherever e-books are sold.
VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: VIRGINIA
By Laura Simcox
THE GOVERNESS CLUB: LOUISA
By Ellie Macdonald
GOOD GUYS WEAR BLACK
By Lizbeth Selvig
SINFUL REWARDS 1
A BILLIONAIRES AND BIKERS NOVELLA
By Cynthia Sax
COVERING KENDALL
A LOVE AND FOOTBALL NOVEL
By Julie Brannagh
An Excerpt from
VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: VIRGINIA
by Laura Simcox
If she had it her way, Virginia Fulton—daughter of the President of the United States—would spend more time dancing in Manhattan’s nightclubs than working in its skyscrapers. But when she finds herself in the arms of sexy, persuasive Dexter Cameron, who presents her with the opportunity of a lifetime, Virginia sees it as a sign . . . but can she take it without losing her heart?
Virginia threw her hands in the air and walked over to face him. “Come on, Dex! Be realistic. You need a team to fix this store. An army.”
“So hire one.” He leaned toward her. “I need you. And you need me.”
“I don’t need you.” She narrowed her eyes. There was no way she was going to tell him about dumping Owlton. Not right now, anyway.
Dex slid off the desk and covered the few feet between them, frowning. “Yes, you do,” he said.
She stared at his mouth, her legs suddenly feeling wobbly. “No, I don’t.” She raised her hands to his shoulders to steady herself.
“You can choose to keep telling yourself that, or you can make a move.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Move forward.”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can.” The words came out raspy, and the look of irritation in Dex’s eyes changed into something much more focused. He hesitated for a moment and then leaned closer. “Make a leap of faith, trust your instincts, and take the job. You’ll have my full support.”
As she gazed up into his steady eyes, she was all too aware of her fear. Because of cowardice, she never acted as if she expected anyone to take her seriously—and so they didn’t. It pissed her off. She didn’t like being pissed, especially not at herself. Dex took her seriously, didn’t he? She closed her eyes. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
When she opened them, he smiled. “Great. Now . . . about moving forward?”
“Yeah?”
“Literally moving forward would be fantastic. I never got to kiss you back, you know.”
“I . . . didn’t expect you to,” she said.
“That might be, but the more I thought about your kiss last night, the more necessary kissing you back became to me. And now? I can’t think about much else.”
She gripped his shoulders and gazed into his eyes. “To be honest, neither can I.”
“Please tell me we can try again. Kiss me and see what happens.” His voice was low and thick.
Virginia’s legs almost gave out from under her, and a shuddering breath left her body. She should be taking a step back, not contemplating kissing him again. Her body swayed forward, and she tightened her grip on his shoulders to steady herself. Just as she closed her eyes to think, his mouth descended, hot and sweet, angling over hers and stopping a hairsbreadth from her lips.
“Mmm,” he uttered, the sound coming from deep in his throat, and it was all she needed.
She pushed up onto her toes, her fingers laced behind his neck, and she kissed him. He tasted earthy—wild, almost—and that surprising discovery sent a shock wave through her brain. She kissed him again. “More,” she murmured, even though she knew she shouldn’t. His tongue invaded her mouth; he turned and, in one motion, lifted her onto the desk. Electricity sang through her body, and, as she twined her tongue with his, the idea of shouldn’t started to become hazy. Her hands threaded through his cropped hair and she leaned back—arching her breasts toward him—wanting Dex to press her down with his body. Please, she whispered in her mind, Please, Dex.
His hands ran over her hips, but he didn’t move closer, so she deepened the kiss, letting her hands trail over his smooth jaw, the taut sides of his neck; then she slid her fingers around the lapels of his suit and tugged. With a groan, Dex pulled her against his chest again, his hands skimming up her back to gently tug on the blunt ends of her hair. She complied, letting her head fall back, and his hot, open mouth slid down her throat and nestled in the crook of her neck. He kissed her there, lingering.
“More,” she gasped out loud, clinging to his shoulders.
He kissed her throat again, his tongue branding a circle under her jaw. Then slowly, he pulled away. “We have to stop,” he said, looking into her eyes. “If we don’t . . .” He swallowed and she watched his throat work. She hadn’t gotten to kiss him there, yet. Dipping her chin, she leaned forward, but he pulled away. He gave her a sheepish smile. “I think we sealed the deal, don’t you?
An Excerpt from
THE GOVERNESS CLUB: LOUISA
by Ellie Macdonald
Louisa Brockhurst is on the run—from her friends, from her family, even from her dream of independence through the Governess Club. Handsome but menacing John Taylor is a prizefighter-turned-innkeeper who is trying to make his way in society. When Louisa shows up at his doorstep, he’s quick to accept her offer to help—at a price. Their attraction grows, but will headstrong, fiery Louisa ever trust the surprisingly kind John enough to tell him the dangerous secrets from her past that keep her running?
Her eyes followed his movements as he straightened. Good Lord, but the moniker “Giant Johnny” was highly appropriate. The man was a mountain. A fleeting thought crossed her mind about what it would be like to have those large arms encompass her.
He spied her packed portmanteau and looked at her questioningly. “You are moving on? I thought your plans were unconfirmed.”
Louisa lifted her chi
n. “They are. But that does not mean I must stay here in order to solidify them.”
He put his thick hands on his hips, doubling his width. “But it also means that you do not have to leave in order to do so.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he stayed her with his hand. “I understand what it is like to be adrift. If you wish, you can remain here. It is clear that I need help, a woman’s help.” He gestured to the room. “I have little notion and less inclination for cleaning. I need someone to take charge in this area. Will you do it?”
Louisa stared at him. Help him by being a maid? In an inn? Of all the things she had considered doing, working in such a place had never crossed her mind. She was not suited for such work. A governess, a companion, yes—but a maid? What would her mother have said about this? Or any of her family?
She pressed her lips together. It had been six years since she’d allowed her family to influence her, and this job would at least keep her protected from the elements. She would be able to protect herself from the more unruly patrons, she was certain. It would be hard-earned coin, to be sure, but the current condition of her moneybag would not object to whichever manner she earned more. It would indeed present the biggest challenge she had yet faced, but how hard could it be?
“What say you, Mrs. Brock?”
His voice drew her out of her thoughts. Regarding him carefully, Louisa knew better than just to accept his offer. “What sorts of benefits could I expect?”
“Proper wage, meals, and a room.” His answer was quick.
“How many meals?”
“How many does the average person eat?” he countered. “Three by my count.”