by Lee, Nadia
“Yes, you’re right.” Her gaze sharpened, her mouth firmed. She squared her shoulders, the movement subtle but clear. “He’s made his choices. And the rest of us must do what we must.”
Chapter Eight
KERRI SETTLED INTO a weekly routine with Ethan. Every morning and evening, Ethan cooked something nutritious—though you’d never be able to tell from the way it tasted; his Italian grandmother must’ve been a culinary goddess—and Kerri cleaned up. She generally fended for herself for lunch and walked for half an hour for her daily exercise. The weather was generally perfect as the late summer cooled into autumn.
After dinner they usually watched TV, read or played cards. She would’ve preferred something more productive, but he insisted she take time off to “recharge her batteries.” Then they’d have sex in his bedroom, and afterward, when he’d fallen asleep, she’d slip away to her room.
On weekends, he’d take her out to various restaurants in town. He always selected places that had healthy options for her, and they’d go to the movies or an art gallery or whatever other diversion struck their fancy.
But this evening was one of the few that deviated from their usual pattern: Ethan brought work home. He spread a thick pile of papers on the dining table and marked off items with a golden pen that had a large “E” on the clip.
“If you’re working, so am I,” she said, starting up her laptop on the other side of the table.
He sighed. “Watch TV or something,” he said. “Enjoy yourself a little.”
She chuckled. “Ethan, seriously. I enjoy my work.”
“You can’t honestly like it as much as you say you do.”
“Why not?”
“Well…you quit.”
“That doesn’t mean I hated it.” She cradled her chin in her palm. “I was dedicated. Good at it too.”
He put down the pen. “Okay. So why did you quit? Everyone suddenly start hating investment bankers?”
She eyed him for a moment, searching for signs for sarcasm. He simply looked expectant. “All right. First, although i-bankers don’t have the best reputation, I never did anything I was ashamed of. I helped a lot of companies achieve their objectives, and we performed a vital function.” She raised a finger. “Of course, there are those jerks who tarnish the whole industry’s reputation, and the media loves to focus on them. But I worked hard to do what was right—and legal—for my clients. Okay?”
He smiled. “Okay.”
“As for me personally, I needed a challenge.” I needed to avoid my family, damn them. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t do what I consider important: helping others achieve their goals. Or that I can’t like doing it.” She pulled up the files she’d been working on for the last two days. “Like the way I’m helping you with TLD. My work frees up your time; you can continue to work at Global Strategies without neglecting the family business. And by doing this terrible, horrible slave-labor drudge work, I’m not only helping you, but Natalie and Alex, too.”
He narrowed his eyes in a mock showdown stare. “Fine, but I’m not paying you overtime. So you’re working for free if you spend more than forty hours a week on it.”
“Ha. You think I got paid overtime at Goldreich?”
“No huge bonuses, either.”
Unbidden, her mind flashed a picture of his naked body, and she smiled. That’s what you think.
He gave her laptop a sour look, but she knew she’d won the point. He wasn’t hypocritical enough to insist that she take time off when he himself was knee-deep in paperwork. A nicely admirable quality. She’d known too many sanctimonious jerks who thought the rules applied to everyone but them.
Besides, she’d learned to respect his abilities. She’d thought his Lloyd pedigree and social connections were what had gotten him the cushy job, but he was actually brilliant. They occasionally discussed business during dinner, and she was always impressed with his quick thinking.
No wonder Justin had said Ethan would’ve made a formidable opponent for Sterling & Wilson.
“How much work could be left on The Lloyds Development?” he asked.
“Not that much. I’m pretty close to done.”
“I’m looking forward to reading your overview.”
She gave him a pat smile, the kind she would use on a client. She didn’t want to give him any false expectations, but she couldn’t hint at what she’d found until she rechecked everything.
The documents that the company’s executive team had sent to the shareholders—the family—indicated TLD was making healthy profits with a strong cash flow. It paid out generous dividends to everyone on a quarterly basis as well.
But the more she dug, the more inconsistencies she found. Jacob had omitted numerous material facts from the reports to paint a rosier picture for everyone. He’d only been able to get away with it for so long because the company was privately held and his family trusted him.
Her cousin had accused Jacob of being an incompetent jackass, but she didn’t want to fling any accusations at Ethan’s older brother until she was absolutely certain.
Her email program beeped.
Speak of the devil. An email from Justin appeared on the top of her inbox.
Hey beautiful, I’m going to be in the neighborhood tomorrow for some business and a charity function. Barron’s coming too, but I can get away for an afternoon. Wanna meet for coffee? My treat.
She replied: Handsome as you are, it’s too short notice. I’m a busy working woman, remember?
A few minutes later, he responded: Tell the enemy to give you an hour off. You said it wasn’t the IRS, so they have to be semi-reasonable.
She sighed and typed: I’d love to catch up, but I already made plans. Really can’t cancel.
She’d promised Ethan to go out for lunch and a matinée, and since she had no friends or family in the area, a cancellation would look odd. Except Natalie, of course, but she wasn’t due back until next week. “Working honeymoon,” indeed. And people accused Kerri of being a workaholic.
Justin responded: Okay. Maybe next time.
So long as he came without Barron and the others and scheduled everything ahead of time so she would be free. There was no way she could take Ethan to see Justin. They’d recognize each other on the spot. The social circles they moved in were more incestuous than an ancient Egyptian imperial family.
And for tomorrow’s lunch she’d have to choose something very middle class, the kind of establishment her family would never go to. Maybe something like an Applebee’s would be a good choice.
“Problem?”
She jerked her head up. “Huh?”
“You were frowning,” Ethan said.
“Oh. No. Just trying to read a small font.” She forced a little smile. “Everything’s fine.”
* * *
Everything was definitely not fine.
Ethan had made a reservation at Morton’s, one of his favorite steakhouses. He’d checked the lunch menu to make sure it had something nutritious and low-fat for Kerri since she was watching her cholesterol.
“I’m kind of not in the mood for steak,” Kerri said.
“They have great salads with lean beef. You’ll be fine.”
She looked down at herself. “And I’m not dressed for a place like Morton’s.”
Ethan studied her outfit. She had on a sleeveless apricot and cream-colored A-line dress with a gently pleated skirt that swirled around her knees. A matching jacket was draped over her arm and her bright copper hair was pulled into a high ponytail. “You look fabulous. No restaurant’s going to turn you away for wearing that.”
“I really prefer Applebee’s or something.” When he merely stared at her, she added, “Maybe McDonald’s.”
“I thought you wanted to eat healthy.”
“I do. McDonald’s has a salad.”
“So does Morton’s, and theirs is better.”
“I’d really feel more comfortable at Applebee’s or McDonald’s.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes. There
was something more going on. “If you don’t want to go to Morton’s—I don’t know why, since you liked it last time—we can go to the wine bar and lounge at the Ritz.”
“We don’t have a reservation.”
“Not a problem.” He pulled out his phone.
She put her hand over the phone. “No, definitely not.”
“Kerri, what’s going on?”
“Nothing! Can we just eat where I want today? Next time I promise I’ll be ecstatic with wherever you want.”
They ended up going to Applebee’s. It wasn’t bad, but not what he’d had in mind for their Saturday date. What was with Kerri? He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had objected to being taken someplace upscale and nice.
Afterward, he wanted to go to the newest theater, which boasted the latest sound system and stadium seating. That didn’t go as planned either. Kerri insisted on an older theater, and in the end she won that battle too, since he’d given up as she’d grown increasingly agitated.
With a tub of popcorn between them, he stared at the screen without seeing anything. Her behavior reminded him a little too much of Lisa’s erratic actions before her death, actions that had put a huge strain on his family and enraged hers, with him caught in the middle.
Lisa had insisted on seemingly irrational and incomprehensible things without explaining herself. Her family had thought he was lying about her behavior to smear her name and paint her as a crazy woman.
Something crashed on screen. Kerri started and dropped a couple pieces of popcorn.
He smiled and reached over, and she took his hand. The salt felt gritty between their palms. Of course Kerri wasn’t like Lisa. His ex hadn’t been able to talk to him or accept any sort of warmth from him in the last few weeks of her life.
He relaxed into his seat. It had to be just him being sensitive. Lisa had died in late fall, just as the gold-and-red season was being bleached into winter. He sometimes thought of her around this time of the year, that was all.
Couples had petty and pointless disagreements here and there. But that didn’t mean anything major was wrong.
After the movie, they returned to the penthouse. Ethan had to get ready for a charity function he’d been invited to. Hiding a small smile, he went to his walk-in closet and pulled out a large garment box. It contained the dress he wanted Kerri to wear. He’d seen it at a mall when he’d gone to pick up a present for his nephew during lunch break, and instantly known he had to get it for her.
She was in the living room watching the news, standing with her arms wrapped around her torso. “Hey, come here,” he said.
She came over to the dining table, ponytail swishing with every step. He had a sudden carnal urge to grab her by it and bend her over the table.
But first, the dress.
“Here.” He gave her the box.
She opened it and gasped. “Oh wow. It’s gorgeous!” She pulled out shimmery golden silk, carefully cut and sewn into a backless gown. “My god.”
“There’s a charity ball tonight,” he said. “It’s for a really good cause—building schools in Africa. I thought you’d like to come with me.”
“Oh.” She looked away. “Do I have to go?”
“Ah…” Not exactly the response he’d anticipated. “Well, who else would I go with? The ticket price is for two, so I kind of need a date,” he joked.
Something desperate and hard crossed her face.
“What’s wrong?” He had the most absurd desire to fix things so she’d never wear such an expression again.
“I…just don’t feel comfortable at events like that.”
“Why not?”
“Not my kind of thing.” She shrugged and started to fold the gown and put it back into the box. “This is beautiful, and I want to wear it out with you sometime. But I think you should take someone else tonight.”
“We’re supposed to be exclusive while we’re together.”
“Well, I don’t want you to sleep with her. But that doesn’t mean you can’t take somebody else to a public event. As you said, it’d be a waste since you paid for two.”
He clenched his jaw so hard, even the muscles in his neck tightened. “What’s the real issue here? It’s not like you have something to do tonight.”
“Ethan, I don’t know what to do at high society functions.”
Frustration rose. She was lying to his face. They’d been together for several weeks now, and Kerri had always known exactly what to do, every action proper. Studying Emily Post for an afternoon wasn’t enough to give someone that kind of refinement. She’d grown up in a genteel moneyed background. “Are you ashamed of being seen with me?”
“What? No!” Her eyes grew as big as saucers. “Oh my god, Ethan, it’s not like that.” She rubbed her forehead, turned slightly away. “This is such a mistake. I was wrong, thinking everything would work out,” she said, low enough that it was slightly hard to hear her.
His insides grew cold at the resignation in her voice. “No, you didn’t. You can regret other things if you want, but not what we have.”
“But if you need a date for—”
“I’ll deal with it.”
“But—”
He went for the most effective way to shut her up: he kissed her.
There was an instant of resistance, then she melted against him, her mouth responsive and ready. It made up for a lot. Even if there was a problem being seen with him in public—he couldn’t imagine why—she wanted him.
He savaged her mouth, his teeth scraping her delicate lips. He wanted to mark her, for her lips to remain tender and pulsing all night long, so that every time they throbbed she’d remember this. Remember him.
He unzipped her dress and pushed it down her shoulders, down her trim torso and long legs. His hands ran over the beautiful curves and lean lines, then traveled up to her inner thighs, where she was sensitive and impossibly soft. He could feel the damp heat radiating from her core and wanted to shout with triumph and frustration.
This arrangement was supposed to be more than a job, and more than just sex.
It was also to ease his mind by keeping Kerri near him, not drive him insane as she seemed to drift further away.
He ripped her panties and threw the scraps on the floor. A tremor ran through her, and a low moan escaped her lips.
He teased her, his fingers caressing the creases where her pelvis met her thighs, but without touching her sex. He knelt and blew lightly over her curls, feeling her shudder, her muscles clenching with need.
He kissed her between her legs. She widened them, silently asking for more.
It wouldn’t work. She could be in need a little longer. He wanted her to scream his name over and over again by the time he was through. He wanted her so vocal she’d be hoarse afterwards.
His thumb touched her clit, just barely. She put her hands in his hair and angled her pelvis for more friction. He pulled back. “Tell me what you want.”
She swallowed, her slender throat working.
He ran his palm roughly over her beautifully curved butt, letting her know he was serious. His mouth pressed a kiss on her navel. Her stomach jumped at the contact. He ran his index fingers along her nether lips with just enough pressure to let her know she could have more if she’d just give in.
“Touch me,” she begged.
“Where?”
“My…”
His tongue caressed her inner thigh.
“My clit,” she said, her voice hitching.
He touched it perfunctorily with his thumb. “Like this?”
“Noooo,” she moaned.
“Be explicit.”
Her chest rose and fell. He wanted everything off her body so he could see her. “Take the bra off. And let your hair free.”
She yanked the straps down, then undid the hooks on her bra and let it drop. The scrunchy came off and she shook her hair out.
He couldn’t stop staring at her breasts, their tips rosy and pointed, begging for him. Yet he c
ouldn’t give into the urge. This wasn’t just about sex. This was about more. He needed her to know this was more.
She grabbed his head again and gently pushed him toward her, showing him what she so desperately wanted. His fingers at her core were already soaked with her arousal. Still, he resisted. “Say it.”
This was the only way he’d get full honesty out of her, not all the half-truths and deflections. Even if it killed him, he’d stop now unless she told him exactly what she wanted from him in explicit detail, so she could never deny this crazy heat between them later.
She finally sobbed out, “I want you to put your mouth there, then open it and suck hard.”
“Like this?” he said, then did exactly as she’d asked. The taste of her desire flooded his mouth, and he groaned at the sweetness.
“Yes!” Her grip on his head tightened, her back arching. Her breasts trembled, and he loved her for the honest response of her body.
“Use your tongue on me,” she begged. “Please.”
He ran his tongue over the tight little bud. Her muscles tightened, her legs shaking. She was close, but not quite. He wasn’t through with her yet. She wasn’t coming until she screamed his name.
She undulated her hips, timed to each strong pull of his mouth. She drenched his fingers near her entrance, and he accidentally brushed his index finger there.
“Oh my god,” she moaned.
“Not god, darling,” he said against her clit. “It’s just me.”
“Yes, yes.” She rolled her hips, trying to get his fingers inside her. “Damn it, Ethan, put your finger there.”
“Where?” he asked, pulling back.
“Deep inside me.”
He put it inside her, taking his time. God, she was so slick, so tight. His cock throbbed, demanding to be inside of her instead of his damned finger.
“Another one,” she said.
He obliged and watched her ride them mindlessly, while he continued to lick and suck on her clit. He could feel her orgasm build higher and higher. She now stood at the precipice. All she needed was a little bit more push, and—
He lessened the pressure on her clit. She sobbed. “Oh my god, Ethan. Please.”
“Look at me,” he demanded. “Look at me.”