by Gigi Black
Food was supposed to be an experience.
The restaurant bubbled with chatter. Men and women who could afford to pay thousands of dollars for rooms per night sat at intimate circular tables or in booths along the walls that afforded more privacy.
Mortimer’s table was on the private terrace, separating him from the “peasants,” as he called them when people were out of earshot.
I walked Hazel through the restaurant and heads turned, women pursing their lips at the sight of the beautiful woman on my arm.
“Everyone’s staring,” Hazel whispered.
“That’s because you’re beautiful.” Shit, I probably shouldn’t have said that. “And you’re with the most eligible bachelor in New York and Chicago,” I replied. “Of course, they’re staring. Most of them want to take your place.”
“They can have it.”
“No, they can’t,” I said.
A waiter in a tux stepped forward, half-bowing, and opened the door to the private terrace for me. “Good evening, Mr. Woods.”
I nodded to him and stepped through. Hazel was tense, and I didn’t blame her. Having lunch with my father was like descending into the seventh circle of hell.
My father’s table overlooked the aquamarine infinity pool, rolling green hills, and a lake in the distance completing the idyllic view. The table was decked out in crystal glasses, an understated floral centerpiece, and candles that had never been lit.
Mortimer sat at the head, scrolling idly on his phone.
Seth, my pilot brother and the latest victim of my father’s evil ministrations, rose the minute we appeared. “There he is,” he said and reached out for me.
I tugged him into a bear hug and clapped him on the back. We’d lived different lives, but god damn, my brothers were the only sanity left in my family, and it was always good to see either of them. “You good?”
“As ever,” Seth replied, sporting a boyish grin. He ruffled the blond hair that was from my mother’s side and turned toward Hazel. “And you must be Damien’s fiancée.”
“Hazel,” she said, her voice like silk and honey. “I remember you, though you might not remember me. You were a few years below me in White-Tail High.”
“Oh shit, yeah, of course. Hazel McCutcheon. It’s great to see you again.” Instead of shaking her hand, he brought her into a hug. One that lasted a little too long for my liking. “You’re looking great.”
“Thank you. So are you.” Hazel was pink in the cheeks when they parted.
I cleared my throat. “Here, gorgeous.” I pulled a chair back for her, ensuring it was the furthest from my brother.
Shit, that was childish as all hell, but I knew Seth. He was a playboy if ever there was one—better at getting women in and out of his bed than I’d been in my early twenties—he just hid it better than I had. And there was still a hint of sibling rivalry between us.
Hazel sat down, and I brushed the back of her neck, gently.
Seth took his place opposite her. “So, you’re marrying Damien. Got to say, I’m surprised he could find a woman willing to tie the knot with Mr. Eternal Bachelor.”
“Not eternal,” I said, sitting down next to Hazel and placing my hand on her thigh.
She flinched and squeezed her legs together.
“But still… it’s almost as if you pulled Hazel out of a hat. I had no idea you two were talking,” Seth said. “Last I heard you were living with your dad?”
“That’s right.” Hazel lifted her chin, pride radiating from her. “My father is my hero, but he’s been sick lately. I’m helping him out.”
“That’s really admirable, Hazel.”
“Thanks,” she said and cast a sidelong glance at me. “But, uh, I’ve had some assistance. Damien has been a great support to both of us.” That was the official party line this weekend.
“A help to you.” Mortimer set his phone aside at last.
“Oh, hi, Mortimer, didn’t see you there.”
He ignored my jab and focused his attention squarely on Hazel. “How has he helped you? Financially?”
“Mostly emotionally,” Hazel replied without shifting under my father’s gaze. Christ, that made her even more attractive. “But he did offer financial help too. He’s very kind.”
Oof, don’t take it too far there.
“Financial help.” Mortimer sniffed. “I see.”
And then quiet. My father’s favorite interrogation technique. The silence and the icy blue stare.
Hazel gave him a quizzical look. “Sorry? What do you see?”
I could swear I’d just heard the faintest hiss as the can of worms popped open.
“The reason you’re with my son,” Mortimer said. “Money.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t make a habit of repeating myself.”
“That’s enough,” I said. “We’re here for lunch, not wordplay and bullshit.”
“You’re here on my invitation.” Mortimer turned his gaze on me, and my blood started boiling again.
“And we’ll leave if you’re rude.” Hazel had stolen the words right out of my mouth. Shit, not verbatim—I’d have cussed more. She got up, teetering in her new Louboutins and lifted her nose. “I’m not with Damien for money. I’m with him because I love him.” She didn’t even stumble over the words. “And I have loved him since high school. If you can’t accept that and be civil, then we’ll leave.” That wasn’t part of the agreed upon history.
Loved me since high school?
I tamped down on the emotional part of my brain, the fucking neurochemicals that made a man weak.
Mortimer released a humorless laugh while Seth sat by, clearly uncomfortable as hell about being here in the first place. “You’ve got a backbone,” he said. “Not what I expected.” He raised a hand and snapped his fingers, and a waiter appeared out of nowhere. “Veuve Cliquot. The best you have.”
“Yes, Mr. Woods.” The waiter bowed himself backward and nearly fell over a potted plant.
Hazel took her seat again, and I put my arm around her, instantly. She leaned into me, just a little, and warmth spread through my chest. She’d stood up for herself and for us.
“Are we done?” I asked. “Hazel and I have places to be.”
“This is the only place you need to be,” Mortimer replied.
But I was done. I had wanted to play nice, but it was impossible with this fucker. I got up and took Hazel’s hand. “You’ve seen my fiancée, as you requested. Now, we’re going to enjoy our weekend.”
And with that, I swept her away.
18
Hazel
“I thought you didn’t want to piss him off.” I let him lead me through the resort, my heart pounding against my ribcage.
“I do want to piss him off, and I always have,” Damien replied, gruffly. “Forget what I said before. I was overreacting because—”
“Because?”
“Let’s get out of here. Outside. Fucking, anywhere.”
We walked out into the pool area at the resort, and I couldn’t help glancing back at the terrace. Mortimer and Seth were gone, and surprisingly, that was a huge tension relief for me. Gosh, I hadn’t even been around Mr. Woods for long, but my neck and shoulders hurt from holding myself stiff. What was it like to have a father like that?
Damien led me around the pool and to a cabana with lounging chairs and a private bar nearby. He signaled for the bartender to leave us alone then sat down, loosening his suit jacket’s buttons. He ripped his tie free and unbuttoned his collared shirt, providing me with a glimpse of the tattooed muscle underneath.
“Are you all right?” Damien asked.
The small, bitchier side of me want to snap at him. Why ask when he didn’t really care? This was a business agreement, nothing more, as he’d so aptly pointed out.
“I’m fine,” I said, sitting down across from him. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting to be called a gold digger by your father, but what the hell. Stranger things have happened this week.”
“H
e’s a prick.” Damien rested his forearms on his thighs, turning his head toward the pool.
“I can’t imagine what that must be like.”
“What do you mean?”
“Having a relationship with my father like the one you have with yours. Sorry if that’s a little blunt, but damn. That was horrible.”
Damien nodded, slowly. “You have no idea, and don’t worry about being blunt. I prefer blunt to bullshit lies.”
“We have that in common.”
His dark eyes found mine. “You know, I asked you to do this for more than one reason,” he said. “It was partly to annoy my father, partly because you needed the help, and so did I, and… fuck it, when I saw you again, Hazel. It was like I’d been fucking electrocuted or some shit. Couldn’t quit thinking about you.”
I tried to take steady even breaths. This was Damien’s specialty. Making women swoon was like a personal challenge for him, and I had to force myself not to buy into his crap. “Why’s that?”
“Shit. Probably because there’s unfinished business between us.”
“How so? I think you made your stance on me very clear.”
The corner of Damien’s lip quirked. “Complicated.”
“Huh?”
“What happened between us back then was complicated. And what came after was more so.” He clipped the last of that sentence off, like he’d had more to say but didn’t want to say it. He sucked in a deep breath, that muscular chest expanding. He let it go again, slowly. “I’m sorry.”
It took a second for my brain to register what he’d said. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Hazel, for the way I treated you. I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye or explaining that it wasn’t about you.”
“It wasn’t.”
“No. There were other matters that had to be attended to.”
“Like what?”
Damien’s emotions shuttered again, and he leaned back slightly, distancing himself from me or from the conversation. Maybe both. “Doesn’t matter now. Just know that I’m sorry, I admit I was a dick, and that I want this weekend to go as smoothly as possible. I don’t want you to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I said, then laughed. “Well, I mean, I don’t hate you now. I did back then.” He didn’t need to know the full extent of how badly his rejection had affected me at the time. I was over it now. Kind of. Definitely. “We can move past it, but I still think you’re a spoiled jerk.”
“And I still think you’re a goody-goody.” He shot me another of his signature grins, but it faded slowly. “You going to be OK dealing with my father? He’s a lot to take.”
“Speaking tactfully, I see.”
“Ha.” He grew silent again, his gaze wandering to the pool, and it gave me the opportunity to admire him again.
Damien Woods was sex made flesh, and it was a struggle not to react viscerally to his presence. His strong jaw was dusted with stubble, his nose was sharp and a little askew, like it had been broken and healed again, and that dark brown hair shifted in the light breeze. Cologne drifted over, bathing me in his presence, and sending thrills through my chest and down to my core.
“Why is he like that?” I asked, after a second. “Your father. I mean, with you. When we were in high school, I always figured you got everything you wanted. That Daddy would cater to your every whim. Those were the rumors at school, anyway.”
“Couldn’t be further from the truth,” he said, stiffly. “My father and I are opposites. He didn’t give me shit unless my mother forced him to. He took a hard line with me, wanted me to grow up following in his footsteps. Take over the company, run Woods Enterprises with an iron fist, that kind of thing.”
“And you don’t want that?”
“No.”
“Then why are you doing this whole fake fiancée thing in the first place?” I asked.
Damien’s heated gaze took me again, and I dug my fingertips into the fabric of the lounger’s cushion. “I did explain this.”
“Not properly. You’re a walking contradiction, Damien. One second you want to irritate your father, the next you’re chewing me out for pissing him off. You ask me to do this with you, this whole fake deal, and then you tell me that you never wanted to be a part of Woods Enterprises in the first place.”
“My father will cut me off, cut me out of everything, if I don’t do what he wants,” Damien replied. “I don’t suppose you know what that feels like.”
“No, I don’t. But why do you care? Is it just the money?”
“Money makes the world go round.” He shrugged, his expression closing like a door.
“So, you only care about money.”
“If that’s what you want to believe.”
“No, I’m asking you. What’s the deal with this?” I asked.
“I want to start something of my own,” Damien said, after a beat, anger twisting his words. “And I need money to do that. I’ve saved a significant amount, but not enough. If he cut me off now, he’d not only take away the salary I have, but he’d make my life hell. He’d sink anything I tried to set up in opposition to his business.”
“Opposition? So you want to have a Woods Enterprises 2.0?”
“Not quite,” he replied, slowly. “I want to do two things. Start a nonprofit and a hospitality company.”
“What, like hotels and stuff?”
“Yeah, basically. Hotels, restaurants, that kind of thing,” Damien replied. “I’ve spent a lot of time planning it.”
“Then you have a business plan. Why not just go to a bank for a loan?”
“Because Mortimer is so far up every fucking bank’s ass that the minute I do it, he’ll find out about it and shut me down. I have as much chance of getting a business loan as I do of getting pregnant.”
“Miracles do happen,” I said, trying for humor, but it fell flat. “And the nonprofit?”
“For women and men who need to escape abusive relationships. A shelter that provides them with safety, food, warmth, and a base to start a new life.” Damien broke eye contact, rising from his seat. “We should get out of here. Go get some lunch somewhere else.”
A nonprofit. Abuse?
I had misjudged him so sorely, though I wasn’t ready to believe he was a “changed man” or even a good man at this point.
“Hazel.” He offered me a hand. “Come on. My treat.”
I didn’t take his hand but rose to meet him. I stared. I couldn’t help myself.
“You good?” Damien asked.
You’re not really doing this. You’re not.
But I wanted to. I’d been nothing but responsible for years, now, and it had gotten me nothing but pain and bills and anxiety. We were away. It was a weekend where no one could judge me for my shitty, stupid actions.
“Hazel?” His warm, panty-melting voice sank into me.
I stepped closer to him, right up to his chest, and looped my arms around his neck.
Damien’s hands moved to my waist, instantly, like he’d been wanting to touch me all along.
I lifted my chin, meeting his hungry stare with one of my own. “Kiss me,” I said. “Please.”
Our lips met, and fireworks went off inside me. I leaned into him, opening my mouth and giving him as much as I could without losing myself completely.
“Upstairs,” he growled against my lips. “Now.”
19
Damien
We barely made it to the elevator.
The doors closed on me pressing her against the smooth silver wall and lavishing her neck with hot, wet kisses. My cock throbbed and demanded more of her, and I cupped her breasts, massaging them through her silk blouse.
“I need you.” Hazel’s breathing accelerated. If she didn’t calm down, she’d fucking hyperventilate. “I need you now.”
“Almost there.”
“Now.”
I hiked her skirt up with one hand and found the wet thong between her thighs. Fuck me, I’d wanted this since this morning. That was
a lie, I’d wanted it since the last time. Since her sweet ass had been bent over my coffee table, dropping off that damn pizza.
“Please,” she whimpered.
The elevator would reach the second floor too fast for me to satisfy her, so I settled for toying with her instead. I pressed my fingers to the wet cotton and massaged as I’d done on the flight over, circling her clit.
Hazel clawed at me, desperate and whining, nearly slipping down the wall.
I held her upright, one hand on her thigh, the other working against her hot patch, bringing her closer and closer to her edge.
“Don’t stop, please,” she moaned. “Don’t stop. I’m going to… I’m going to—” Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she convulsed against me, her hips lifting and pulsing, her pussy hot against my hand, moisture spreading. So fucking wet, she was percolating at this point.
The elevator stopped, and I pulled her skirt back down and slipped my arms around her just as the door opened. She nearly fell over, hot pink streaking her skin, and held onto me for support.
An elderly couple frowned at us as they entered the cubicle.
“She’s feeling faint. Don’t eat the prawns,” I said, grinning at them, and walked my gorgeous ‘fiancée’ out of the elevator and down the hall.
She found her feet, eventually, and started kissing my neck again, my cock raging against my pants now.
“Easy,” I said. “You keep doing that and I’ll come in two pumps.”
But Hazel didn’t stop. It was like apologizing to her had opened the lust floodgates.
We stopped in front of our room, and I brought the keycard out of my pants pocket while she ripped my jacket off. I swiped us inside, and then the fun started.
Her hands went wild, tugging, unbuttoning. She undid my pants, and my thick cock fell out and into her palm. She stroked it, spreading my pre-cum from the tip back onto the shaft and then up to the head again.
“Jesus,” I growled, slamming the door shut. “Fuck. Hazel, I’m warning you.”
“I want you to come,” she said, sucking on her bottom lip. “I want everything this weekend. Everything you can offer me and more.”