by Mel Blue
Table of Contents
SEDUCED: DEN OF SIN BOXED SET I
FORBIDDEN RENDEZVOUS
COPYRIGHT
Blurb
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
ABOUT MEL BLUE
BACKLIST TITLES BY MELISSA BLUE
Ménage à Troys
COPYRIGHT
Blurb
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE
ABOUT HOLLEY TRENT
BACKLIST TITLES BY HOLLEY TRENT
WICKED SURRENDER
COPYRIGHT
Blurb
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
EPILOGUE
ABOUT AMBRIELLE KIRK
EROTIC CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE TITLES BY AMBRIELLE KIRK
REDEEMING THE AMAZON
COPYRIGHT
Blurb
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
EPILOGUE
ABOUT L.V. LEWIS
BACKLIST TITLES BY L.V. LEWIS
THE DEN OF SIN
Excerpt from DEBAUCHING THE VIRGIN by Mel Blue
SEDUCED: DEN OF SIN BOXED SET I
©2014
All Rights Reserved.
Seduced: Den Of Sin Boxed Set I is a work of complete fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictional or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
“Forbidden Rendezvous”
©2013 Melissa Blue
“Ménage à Troys”
©2013 Holley Trent
“Wicked Surrender”
©2013 Ambrielle Kirk
“Redeeming the Amazon”
©2013 L.V. Lewis
FORBIDDEN RENDEZVOUS
A Den of Sin Novella
By Mel Blue
COPYRIGHT
©Melissa Blue
Published December 2013
All Rights Reserved.
Forbidden Rendezvous is a work of complete fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictional or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Photography credits
cockacocoka: © via depositphotos.com
WARNING: this story contains adult situations including sex and strong language. It is not intended for consumption by minors (age of majority as specified by your territory of residence).
Blurb
When the Beaudelaire Hotel turns into a Den of Sin for the New Year’s weekend, any and every fantasy can become a reality…
Seraphina Gibson orchestrates fantasies, but this year she’ll create one of her own. It’s against the rules for an employee to participate in the weekend-long sex-capade but she’s willing to risk it for Luke Moreland. The man’s a mystery, but in a sea of CEOs and Fortune 500 billionaires, he stands out. His past and connection to her boss is clouded in intrigue, but she knows what he wants, and she plans to star in one of his voyeuristic trysts.
Born with a silver spoon Luke Moreland is used to getting everything he desires. Being next in line of his family’s winery leaves him very little time to take advantage of his riches. For a weekend, out of every year, he gets to feel the thrill of the chase. Not even in his sexual fantasies does he like to lose control, but then Seraphina walks into his playroom. He doesn’t know the truth of her past, but he knows the risk she’s taken to be with him. That doesn’t matter. He’s going to spend the next two days with her in his bed and keep her secret.
When reality crashes into their fantasy, will they survive?
CHAPTER ONE
Seraphina Gibson had her orders, and no matter how counterproductive she found them, she’d obey them to the letter. She glanced at the man across the table and amended that to “somewhat to the letter.”
Heading into her second hour of being the temporary, but very official Beaudelaire Hotel babysitter, she had a few choice words for her boss. The same ones she had every year after sitting for hours with a genuine smile and a warm demeanor to placate this particular guest.
“Last time I checked, you liked to eat.” The husky notes in Luke Moreland’s voice wormed their way under her skin.
She held herself still, to keep from leaning closer just to feel the wash of warmth from his breath. “No, thank you. Now—”
“You know how I am about wine…” He topped off her glass, even though she’d refused the first three times he’d asked.
A grown man didn’t need a sitter, much less Luke. He hadn’t bothered to tame his sandy brown hair. The shoulder-length strands only accentuated his sharp jawline. He turned his blue-eyed gaze on her. The darkest, deepest parts of the ocean couldn’t compare to his eyes. Seraphina’s skin heated, and she welcomed it.
After three years she barely noted the hint of swamp in the Louisiana air, but the winter chill fluttering the lace curtains beaded her nipples. She’d turned down his offer to wear his leather coat too—now that she regretted. The winter honeysuckle decorated the balcony and would have been beautiful to look at any other time of the year. It still emitted a sweet lemony smell.
“This crab salad is delicious,” he added. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”
Anyone else would think the offer polite and kind, but given this was his fourth course, Seraphina had to fight the urge to grab her unused fork and stab him with it. “I had a light snack before I arrived at your room.”
They were having their annual contest of wills. She’d win, she always won, but he’d make her pay first. “That was hours ago,” he pointed out.
“If you could take a moment to look over the paperwork…”
The five o’clock shadow wasn’t necessary to make him look purely masculine, but it didn’t hurt either. Even though he wore a plain blue T-shirt and thread-torn denims, he exuded control, a control he exerted over her now. “Dessert hasn’t been served.”
She clamped her mouth closed. Her boss had hired her as his personal assistant for a reason. She attended to every detail of his personal life and to that of the Beaudelaire. A Cali girl in a sea of N’awlins-born-and-bred applicants, yet he chose her because she got shit done.
She tapped her fingers over the pile of folders and drew from her well of patience—one that was drying up by the second. The breeze had mixed with his scent. He smelled of sandalwood. Given he spent his days making wine, the oaky notes to his cologne made sense. Her panties dampening at his familiar musk, didn’t.
He wiped his mouth and then dropped the white cloth on the glass tabletop. “I’m not accustomed to waiting.”
Tough tits. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you ready to choke the shit out of me yet?”
No. She still wanted to use her fork. “While we wait, we can go through your choices.”
He leaned back in the wicker chair; it creaked a soft protest. Amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Smooth. You’re getting be
tter at this.”
What she’d give to see his full smile, made panic claw at the back of her throat. She had to get out of this room filled with heirloom antiques…and him. “Thank you. The first candidate—”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say I wanted to look just yet, but that you were getting better at handling me.”
Luke’s tone insinuated something else entirely, something she wanted to experience. “Nonetheless, I appreciate the compliment.” Feeling flustered, she cracked open the first folder.
His hand brushed hers. The friction of his callused palm made her shiver. She held her breath, but he only closed the manila file.
“While we wait, you can tell me about your day,” he said.
At the rate their exchange was going, they might be at this all night. She picked up the glass of wine and took a sip. The Shiraz went down smoothly despite its cool temperature. “Your personal relationship with Mr. Beaudelaire—”
“Is that what Henri makes you call him? He’s gotten a big head since we first became friends. Shame.”
No. She needed the distance, and after the first year, he’d stopped trying to make her call him anything else. That’s how she got things done, with an efficient and impersonal purpose. She drew boundaries and never budged from them. Luke didn’t give a shit about her boundaries. She could almost respect him for striding right over them.
Now that she thought about it, that’s probably why Mr. Beaudelaire gave her the task every year. She added that mental note to things she planned to bitch about later. “I must keep what I do in the course of my day confidential. Would you like for me to tell the women in these files that you require every detail about their lives?”
“Touché.” He smiled and the action didn’t lighten up his eyes.
She often wondered what kinds of horrors he’d seen. Not even a genuine smile could cast away the darkness. But asking crossed a boundary. It’s why she fought to delegate this task to someone else.
Twenty-four hours and the New Year’s weekend would begin. Her usual duties of taking care of the staff, customers, and her boss doubled. Her life turned into orchestrating sexual fantasies, ironing out crinkles, dealing with dramas and details, so that all of the clients got exactly what they wanted.
Letting in thoughts about Luke, about his past, made her want…him. It’s why she refused the jacket, and would rather freeze to death than wear it. His scent would stain the buttery, soft leather and she needed no further encouragement to let him get under her skin.
“Tell me about your day anyway,” he said.
“Joss looks like your ideal woman.” She tapped the file.
He made a non-committal noise. “Is she your favorite?”
A very small part of her envied Joss. Seraphina glanced down at her nervous fingers and quelled the action. “I don’t have a personal opinion on the women. I’m only here to secure your choice.”
His eyes never wavered from her face. “But you do choose for me.”
She shifted under the intensity of the casual words. “Excuse me?”
“You put together the files in the order you prefer. Joss is the first. I always go with the first one you hand me.”
She blinked, surprised he noticed. “You have very specific instructions.”
“You don’t listen to any of them.”
Tension wrested her spine straight at the accusation. “Name one time.”
“Every year I’ve asked you to eat with me. Every year you turn me down.”
He was right. She pursed her lips and opened the file. “Let’s see. She’s unmarried. Five-foot-six. Petite. Dark brown hair and eyes. Everything is real.” She cleared her throat. “She’s seen you and she wants you to watch her. She’s written out everything she’ll do and it’s pretty inventive. No one else has ever done that. Her interest seems authentic.”
A smile never truly lightened his eyes, but lust did. His jaw flexed, his nostrils flared, and she enjoyed the heat in his gaze. “Read it to me,” he demanded.
That heat sluiced to her stomach and made her skin feel tight. “Read it?”
“My hands are busy.” He picked up his glass of wine. “The choice is up to you. Read it to me or eat with me.”
She scoffed. “Why?”
He took a tentative sip before looking at her again. “You tell me no.”
For a man like him that meant something. The heir of a wine dynasty, he wasn’t often brushed off. “Seems like a public service from where I’m sitting.” She blanched at her slip in professionalism, then tipped some wine into her mouth until she could control the urge to tell him exactly what she thought. “You tell me no all the time, so why would you want to share a meal with me?”
“For the next few days I’ll take all my meals alone. So for at least one, I’d like to share dinner with someone I like. You won’t have the time and right now you do. Eat with me, Seraphina.”
The offer sounded more than appealing. It tempted her. She squelched the sudden need to have a quiet moment with him. With anyone.
“This is work,” she argued. “No one denies you because you were born with a silver spoon. The rest you charm into doing what you want.”
“Or browbeat,” he added. “You’re technically working. What better excuse?” He raised his brow in challenge. “If you don’t, I’ll make you read the file to me before I give you my decision. You’ll read it, not in that no-nonsense voice you use with everyone, but as though you mean it.”
“You can’t—”
“Try me.” He paused. “And what would Mr. Beaudelaire say if he knows that all you had to do was eat with me?” He checked his watch. “You spent over eight hours of your precious time because you refused.”
“It’s only been one, almost two,” she corrected. He smiled and waited. And then she got it. She gasped. “You’d make me sit here another seven hours?”
He shrugged. The sinew of muscle in his arms moved with a graceful fluidity. “Last year it was five. I can’t get soft with you or you’ll start to lose respect for me.”
She glanced down at the file. Joss had gone into detail about the kinds of toys she’d use to get off, how she wished Luke would react, what that final meeting would entail…No way could Seraphina get through reading it aloud without showing how much she wanted to do the same naughty things with him.
Her boss let her run herd on him and the rest of the staff because she was that good. He had one rule she didn’t dare test. Employees were forbidden to sleep with the customers. The weekend drew in all kinds of men and women. Most in positions of power. Wealthy. No kink went unfulfilled. Vanilla sex, BDSM…everything. She understood why Mr. Beaudelaire had the rule. Mixing business with pleasure could cause unnecessary conflict.
Despite all the teasing, flirtation, and innuendos, Luke likely behaved, as much as he could, because he valued his friendship with Henri. Friendships were sacred to her. She’d lost the one she’d had all her life, and she wouldn’t be the cause of breaking theirs. Eating with Luke didn’t cross a line, but reading from the file would. Doing the latter would force her to give in on a boundary that she could never redraw.
Was it lust in his eyes now, or the thrill of the challenge? She felt wanton and desired. Dangerous to flirt with the temptation, but it was a shared meal. They’d eat. She’d avoid his charm in a professional way. No lines would get crossed. It was that choice, or read the file.
She hesitated for a second longer and then made the right choice. “Mr. Moreland, I’ll eat with you.”
Pleasure softened his smile. “Luke.”
She smiled back and this time it was genuine. “Now, Mr. Moreland, I didn’t agree to that. You should have waited to use it as your ace in the hole.”
He didn’t argue and that troubled her. It meant he was gearing up for another round. There was only so much time she could spend with him while acting unaffected. It took everything in her reserves, and her tank was running low already.
CHAPTER TWO
Luke kept his word by accepting the file after the late evening dinner, but put his hand on the door to stall her exit. He hadn’t given her much room. Still, she managed to turn around without touching him. The wine put a beautiful glow in her cheeks. He liked to believe it was his company that made her eyes sparkle. A bit darker than whiskey, her irises lit from within. When they first met, the hidden spark in her eyes is what drew him to her.
“Seraphina.”
“It’s Ms. Gibson but, yes, Mr. Moreland?”
He laughed at the cool tone. Not once had she stopped being Henri Beaudelaire’s personal assistant, professional to a fault, but during the dinner she’d shown warmth and humor while evading his probing questions.
“Call me Luke. I insist.”
She gripped the files to her chest. Not that he could see anything but a hint of her femininity. She wore pants suits and not even a button was left open to tease him with a view of her dark-olive skin. When alone, at the end of the day, would she take the pins out of her hair and free the ebony strands? It killed him to be this close to her and yet so far from touching, seeing the woman underneath the professionalism.
“Was there something you forgot to ask me during your interrogation?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She pursed her lips, but the corners of her mouth turned up. “I think Mr. Beaudelaire would like to know you hold his staff hostage.”
Henri would be displeased that he’d shamelessly flirted with any of his staff. Doing more than flirting? Now that would cause trouble their friendship didn’t need. They used to be close as brothers. It had taken the last four years to be more than casual associates.
With that in mind, he considered Seraphina and just how far he could take this. “Have dinner with me. One that isn’t a ruse for work.”
“No.”
He hadn’t expected her to say yes, yet, but the quick refusal without any trace of doubt in her tone confused the hell out of him. She’d enjoyed herself. He could pick up on the slightest discomfort or sign that someone really didn’t like him. He’d honed that skill in college when his world fell apart. He used the skill in all his business dealings.