by Meghan March
I barely stifled a groan. Jesus, but I wanted that mouth.
My visual enjoyment died a quick death when a man approached her from the side. Vanessa smiled, head tilting toward him. I pushed off the wall, my fist clenching so hard it tested the strength of the glass clutched in my hand. I needed to see the guy’s face. I edged around the room, nodding at several people in attendance until I could get a closer look.
I got my look—and kept fucking walking.
Mother. Fucker. I tossed back my drink and headed straight to the bar. If I had to watch her with that prick, I needed my good friend, Jack.
She was a magnet for his type. Not that I knew him. I only recognized him from the papers, and they’d dubbed him “Louisiana’s Hottest Titan of Industry.” Relatively new in town, he hadn’t wasted any time before making a splash and pissing off the old guard. It seemed that every move he made was analyzed and copied. Old money loved to hate him because, as the story went, he came from nothing, but everything he touched turned to gold. If big business had a rebel, it would be Lucas Fucking Titan.
My lips curled in disgust when he slipped an arm around her and led her toward the bar on the opposite side of the room. Fury raged hot and fast. First, at the realization that he had the right to approach her in this crowd, and second, because she’d followed him willingly.
I grabbed my drink off the bar, and my attention snagged on my wrist. Even my tux couldn’t hide the ink that spilled out from beneath my cuffs and collar.
The ink was a brand. And in this case, it branded me unsuitable for public acknowledgment by Vanessa Frost. I’d bet good money that if she even spoke to me in front of these society types, it’d get back to her daddy so damn fast, her head would still be spinning when he came and dragged her away from me.
I sipped the straight whiskey and reveled in the burn. I needed to slow it down, because I was here for Trey, not to dwell on the fact that I’d never belong in the upper class I’d been adopted into. Changing your last name didn’t change how people saw you—how they judged you.
Even fifteen years didn’t change the fact that I’d been the kid who showed up in the Garden District, garbage bag in tow, because Joy and Andre Leahy had decided they wanted to give being foster parents a shot. Their friends and neighbors had been horrified. And when Joy and Andre had decided to adopt me? You better believe their sanity had been questioned.
I laughed humorlessly to myself. Because those judgmental pricks had been right—bringing me into their lives had ultimately gotten them killed. Joy and Andre deserved better than being gunned down in a home invasion—a home invasion that had happened because me and my Army buddies had been on leave and gotten into a fight with some gangbangers at a club off Bourbon. We’d just gotten into town, hadn’t even changed out of our uniforms. Better for picking up pussy anyway. But they’d seen our names. Given that the Leahy name was fairly well known in this town, it wasn’t too hard to figure out that they’d tagged me as a local and tracked down my family in retaliation. Three nights later, when I was already back on base, someone had broken into Joy and Andre’s house.
Two bullets. Execution style.
They should’ve been rocking on the back porch on a night like tonight, sharing a bottle of wine. Instead, they were resting in a burial vault. Because of me.
I swigged the rest of my drink. All the booze in the world couldn’t wash away the blood on my hands.
Only justice would wipe away some of the guilt I felt—and even that would be a far cry from absolution. The memory gave way to the need to pound my frustration out on a bag. I hated the restrictions of this fucking monkey suit. I hated the polite conversations humming around me. This wasn’t my world. I didn’t want it to be my world. If it weren’t for Trey, I’d get the hell out of here right now.
My thoughts turned even darker as I watched Titan press his hand to the small of Vanessa’s back and guide her closer to the bar. I wanted to rip that fucking hand off.
“Hey, man. You having fun back here?” Trey’s voice pulled me back to reality. He nudged my shoulder conspiratorially.
I forced a smile for his benefit. “Don’t I always? Just waiting to see you get that award and give your speech.”
Trey’s eyes widened. “I have to give a speech? No one fucking told me that.”
I grinned, and this time it was sincere. “I’m kidding, man. You just have to smile and look pretty for the camera. And watch your language. You shouldn’t be dropping the F-bomb around these kinds of people.”
Trey rolled his eyes. “That stop you?”
“Don’t worry about me. But you better clean it up before you get to the Point, or they’ll clean it up for you.”
He breathed a heavy sigh. “Okay, okay. I get it. You and my mama both. Seriously.” He jostled my shoulder again. “You’d think with all this ink you wouldn’t be such a drag.”
“Don’t make me teach you some manners, boy.”
Although it was likely that Trey’s mama had already beaten manners into him. She was a tough woman. And probably the major reason why he’d been accepted to West Point. The day he’d gotten his congressional nomination…I’d shed a tear, though I’d never admit it. It was a hell of an honor, and there wasn’t another kid who deserved it more. It had started with him asking me about some of my tats. What they meant—especially the military ones. I’d given him bits and pieces about my history in the service. Honestly, there was plenty I couldn’t tell, but I could give him the basics. He’d latched on to it like an infant on a teat. I could understand the appeal. There was something about honor and serving your country that reached into your gut and made you want to be part of something bigger than yourself. At least that was what it had done for me. The military had taken my punk ass and turned it into a hell of a soldier. I’d taken bullets for my brothers. Had watched one throw himself on a grenade to save another. The brotherhood was something civilians would never understand. I was glad that Trey would get to be a part of that.
“Con, you good, man?” Trey asked, as I realized I’d let myself drift.
“Yeah, just thinking about some shit.”
A tall, thin man took the stage and spoke into the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, dinner service will begin shortly. If you would, please begin to make your way to your seats.”
“That’s your cue. Better go find the head table, man.” Trey smiled again and took off toward the front of the room.
I looked toward my table, but a blonde heading in the opposite direction caught my attention. It didn’t take a genius to figure out which way I went.
I saw him watching me. But even if I hadn’t seen him, I would have felt him. Con was… potent. A heck of a lot more potent than the wine swirling in my glass as I stepped away from a group of society matrons. My one glass. Because that was all I ever allowed myself at events like these. Why? Because a lady was never tipsy in public. I broke that rule at my own peril. Like the anniversary of my mother’s death two years ago. I remember drinking three glasses of wine at dinner that night. Obviously that day wasn’t one my father handled well, and he handled it even more poorly when we stayed home. Something about sitting around the dining room table my mother had loved so dearly would set him off every single time. So, instead, we went out, and our quiet family dinner had deteriorated into my father asking me why I hadn’t brought a man up to snuff yet, and pointing out that my mother would have wanted me settled and having babies of my own by now.
Three glasses of wine had loosened my tongue and glazed over my good sense. I’d said something about Mother probably being too worried that my finally-skinny figure would be ruined by pregnancy and would have probably suggested I hire a surrogate. To this day, I could feel the sting of the back of my father’s hand as it connected with my cheek.
He’d never struck me before or since.
We’d both sat in stunned silence in our private dining room at his favorite restaurant and, face throbbing, I’d quietly excused myself from the tab
le.
I’d never looked at my father quite the same after that night. Did any girl look at her daddy the same way after he backhanded her?
An hour later I’d found myself wandering the French Quarter. I’d lost myself in the revelry, and while, at first, it had been comforting, I’d started to panic as the crush had become overwhelming. Con had been a lone familiar face in a crowd of strangers. I’d tripped over a curb and crashed into him. Instead of being the too-good looking punk with a chip on his shoulder I’d remembered from high school, he’d been drunk and charming. His arms had been strong and steady when they’d wrapped around me and kept me from face-planting onto the dirty sidewalk.
His teasing had made me smile, when all I’d wanted to do moments before was cry. I’d needed more of that—more levity and lightness to smother the horrible darkness that had stalked me all night. I’d needed to forget.
So I’d taken an insane leap and let him lead me back to Voodoo and up the stairs to his apartment. Being laid out across Con’s bed and catching an eyeful of what he was packing in those ripped up jeans had sobered me up pretty damn quick. Good God. Even intoxicated, Con was… an experience. My cheeks burned just thinking about him.
The unforgettable night had given way to my hangover and the harsh light of morning: If my father ever found out… that backhand would seem like a love tap. My father’s judgment of Con had come down early—just after he’d arrived at the Leahy's as a foster and decided to test their boundaries. My father had found Con passed out drunk, lying against our fence, and their interaction hadn’t gone… smoothly. My father had thought he was trouble then and had never missed an opportunity to comment over the years about what a disgrace Con was to his adoptive parents.
“Vanessa, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” a smooth, deep voice said from a few feet away.
I jerked my gaze away from Con’s direction and looked up into the face of Lucas Titan.
Several inches over six feet, with thick, inky black hair cropped close to his head, Lucas Titan was an attractive man, especially when you added in his mossy green eyes, wide shoulders, and narrow hips. A diagonal scar slashing upward through his left eyebrow into his hairline gave his face character and kicked it from being classically handsome to dangerously gorgeous. His billions and philanthropic nature had made him a darling of the New Orleans charity scene, even if the old money crowd almost universally hated him. He didn’t play by their rules, or anyone else’s.
It was one of the things I admired most about the man.
He’d also bought himself a seat on the board of directors of the L.R. Bennett Foundation about six months ago.
“Mr. Titan, I didn’t realize you’d be here tonight.”
After all, the only name on the guest list Elle had bothered to mention had been Con’s.
“Then I’m guessing you didn’t read your invite beyond the plate price.”
I laughed politely. “You’re probably right about that.”
His smile revealed perfectly straight, white teeth. “I’m the keynote. I’ll be talking about the importance of getting technology into the hands of underprivileged youth at early ages to help level the playing field, and how organizations like this one are perfectly suited to accomplish that goal—if only it had the funding.”
“Well, hopefully between your speech and the open bar, people will give generously. It makes sense to have the tech guru sell it.”
His smile broadened. “I’ve yet to leave my nerd days behind.”
My face must have shown my surprise at his admission. “I would’ve never guessed. The nerds from my youth weren’t quite so suave, nor did they wear black tie quite as well as you do.”
A dimple I hadn’t previously been aware of winked. Damn, the man really was attractive.
“My growth spurt and tuxes came late in the game, Ms. Frost. It’s much easier to know who your friends are when you’re the least popular kid in school than when you’re sitting on billions.”
I nodded. I knew all about people befriending you for reasons other than your sparkling personality.
“I understand completely.” Wanting to move off that uncomfortable subject, I added, “I’m sure your keynote will be interesting.”
“Well, I’ll try to keep from putting you to sleep anyway. And it’s short, which is probably the best quality any keynote can have.”
I lifted my wine. “Cheers to that, Mr. Titan.”
He clinked his highball with my glass, and his eyes dropped to my shoes and made a lazy perusal up my body. “You look stunning tonight, Vanessa.”
I waited for the flash of heat I’d felt when Con’s gaze took the same path. And I got… a warm breeze. It was pretty much the same reaction my body gave when Simon complimented me. Here was a gorgeous man, richer than Croesus, and my body decided it wasn’t interested.
It was probably for the best. Despite his money and business prowess, my father was firmly in the Lucas Titan is the spawn of the devil camp. It had something to do with Lucas’s sustainable energy agenda and the lobbyists who were pushing it in the state legislature. As a steel man, my father didn’t want anyone telling him how he needed to power his mills.
“Thank you,” I replied.
He looked down at my drink. “And you need a refill. Would you like me to get you another?”
My polite smile smoothed across my face. I didn’t like to explain my one glass limit, so it was easier if I just got my drinks myself. I’d be switching to club soda with lime after this one.
“How about we head that way together?”
His hand somehow found its way to the small of my back, and I wasn’t sure how to graciously remove it. After a long wait and small talk in line, I had my club soda, and our impending dinner service was announced.
“I’m assuming you’re also at the head table?” I asked Lucas.
“Indeed.”
“Would you mind taking my drink? I need to excuse myself for a moment.”
Lucas accepted my glass. “Of course. I’ll be waiting.”
I pushed open the door to the powder room and stepped into the lobby. A large hand wrapped around my upper arm.
I turned and opened my mouth to protest, but was silenced when I saw the tattoos peeking out from beneath the shirt cuff.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, shocked that Con would manhandle me in public, although maybe I shouldn’t have been.
He tugged me toward an unused coatroom, and shut and blocked the door.
“Are you crazy?” I’d wanted to get him alone, but not like this. This was dangerous.
Con stalked toward me. I backed away, feeling very much like a rabbit facing off against a wolf.
“I decided I’m not done with you yet.”
The words were so low and quiet; I felt them more than I heard them. I tried to keep my breathing steady as I asked, “So you accost me outside the ladies’ room and drag me into a coat closet?”
“Would you rather I’d approached you while Lucas Titan was eye-fucking the shit out of you?”
So that was what this was about. “First, that kind of language is unnecessary. And second, Lucas is an acquaintance. He’s on my board of directors. And… I don’t even know why I’m explaining myself to you. It’s none of your business.”
“Always good to know where I stand.”
Con trapped me in the corner between the empty coat rack and the wall.
I needed to get out of here before I did something stupid.
“What do you want? I have to get back.” I hoped my tone sounded unaffected.
“Same thing I’ve wanted for two damn years: another taste of you.”
I sucked in a breath and fought the shivers of anticipation coursing through me. No. Absolutely not. Can’t happen.
“Why would you want another taste of the stuck up bitch you threw out of your gym?” I crossed my arms, ready to block any verbal blows that might be coming. Turns out, I didn’t need to.
Con looked up to th
e ceiling and cleared his throat before speaking. “Life doesn’t give us many second chances. If this is mine, then I’m not going to waste it.”
My mind reeled as my heart kicked into a gallop. “I don’t even know what that means.”
He dropped his eyes back down to meet mine. The intensity of his stare pressed me into the wall. “It means this is how it’s going to go down: You want that property. I want a shot with you. I get what I want, then you get what you want.”
My entire body stilled. Well, everything except for my mouth dropping open. Was he seriously expecting me to whore myself out for the deed? My temper flared, but I held back the imminent explosion. I wanted confirmation before I shoved him away and slapped him across the face.
“What exactly are you proposing?”
His chin lifted, and his dark blue eyes sparked with heat. “What do you think I’m proposing, princess?”
My hands shot out, palms connecting with the solid muscles of his chest. I shoved, but Con didn’t budge. Instead, he brought his hands up to cover mine, trapping them against the fabric of his tux. I yanked my hands back, but Con’s grip didn’t break.
He leaned down and spoke quietly just above my ear. “That wasn’t very ladylike, Vanessa. You didn’t even let me finish.”
I struggled against his hold as he added, “I didn’t say I expected you to fuck me for it. Your dirty mind went there all by itself.”
The sound that crawled out of my throat was also not ladylike. “Let. Me. Go.”
His fingers slid along the backs of my hands and curled around my wrists. I fought as he raised my arms and pinned them to the wood paneled wall above my head.
“Not until I’m good and ready. And I can’t be sure I’ll ever be ready.”
My nipples hardened in response to his cocky declaration. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, hoping naively that the move would block out the effects of his words and touch. It didn’t.
“So what do you say, Vanessa? You willing to give me a shot?”