“Who is Ben?”
“The masseuse.”
Quinn shook her head as if tossing out the unnecessary information from her brain. “And that’s how you found out who he is?”
“More or less. Once Ben confirmed his name I came straight up here to Google him on my phone. God, Quinn,” she whined. “You should have heard the things I said to him that night after the auction. Admitting I was there for the money because of my student debt. I was saying those things to a freaking billionaire of all things!”
“You two had actual conversation?” She still looked bewildered. She got up and went to the mini bar, pouring herself a shot of Patron.
“Well, yeah.”
“I’ve never had full-on conversations with any of my bidders. Never much time for it.”
Natalie ignored her completely. “What the hell am I going to do?”
“You have to ask?” Quinn brought the bottle to Natalie’s shot glass and poured. “You’re going to put on the sexiest dress you brought with you and find him. It shouldn’t be too hard; sounds like the man has been following our every move anyway. Hell, you could probably call down to the front desk and invite him to your bedroom.”
Natalie set the full shot glass aside and resumed her pacing, this time in front of the windows overlooking the pool oasis.
“Are you purposely forgetting the part where he’s married with a kid?”
“Oh come on, you’re not going to berate yourself for that, are you? So you slept with a married man. You didn’t know he was married when you met him, and it wasn’t his obligation to disclose that considering he was paying you for your time.”
“Be that as it may it doesn’t change the fact that he’s married now-“
“And you still want to sleep with him now?” Quinn swiped through the phone and suddenly smiled. “Fuck, he’s hot.”
“I know,” Natalie lamented. She’d said the same thing to him that night. Then, she added as an afterthought, “You never-?”
“With him? No, I would definitely remember this face. Damn you are a lucky girl! Okay, we need to rethink our plans. First-" Quinn grabbed the shot glass from Natalie's hands and put it back on the mini bar. "Stop drinking. At the rate you're going you'll be too drunk to notice him at all."
"I hardly think..." She stopped mid-sentence as something ignited in her brain. Too drunk to notice. Why was that so familiar?
"Next," Quinn continued, "Take a bath. You need something to calm you down. Then take a nap - no longer than 45 minutes - and when you're all nice and refreshed I'll be back."
"Where are you going?"
Quinn smiled triumphantly. "Shopping. You're going to need something worthy of a billionaire."
"Quinn, I really don't think-"
"Natalie, my dear, this is simple." Natalie sobered at the sound of Quinn so serious and, strangely enough, motherly. "Do you want to see this man again?"
Natalie sighed. "He knows who I am, Quinn. If he wanted to see me he could have by now."
"Come on you can't be this naive! The suite, reservations and cabana? He kept you here in his hotel. Or have you not realized that we're in Vegas and we've not even left the building except to go to the pool? He is seeing you, Natalie!"
"I..." She couldn't argue. There was no point. He knew she was there and now she knew he was. If she left without seeing him face to face she'd regret it; and then she'd really never see him again. "No bandage dresses."
SEVEN
The jasmine scented hot water was enough to relax all but one muscle in her body. Her heart was another matter entirely. She was in his hotel. It was difficult to wrap her mind around, not because of the wealth but the serendipitous turn of events that had placed her in it. If it weren't for the promotion she wouldn't have been in Las Vegas at all, and Quinn just happened to book them at Eden. What were the odds?
It won't be long now, she thought as she slid lower into the bathtub, knees parting as the water skimmed across her body. Since that night spent with the twelfth man she couldn't take a bath without thinking of him. Not that she minded. The memory was not something to be forgotten. She'd bathed that morning after he'd relentlessly brought her over the precipice of pleasure until her body could take no more. And it was in coming off that post-coital high she realized he'd focused solely on her pleasure and not his own. So she took him; all eight inches of him past her lips until he carried her into the bedroom and made love to her again, her legs wrapped around him lotus-style as they came together, his name in her breath as she moaned.
Her legs parted, water lapping against her opening as her body opened at the memory. She put two fingers between her legs and softly sighed when her clitoris responded readily. Her free had slid across her breasts, gently squeezing mounds of flesh as her fingers worked, her hips rocking to aid the sensation. She imagined they were his fingers on and in her body, longed for the weight of his body between her legs as he moved inside her. Her skin delighted at the touch of hot water rushing and receding over her breasts like the tide, flowing in rhythm as her hips moved up and down.
'James,' he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. 'My name is James.'
She kissed him, open mouth to open mouth, tongue to tongue, before kissing at his cheek, over the sideburn stubble, and finally to his ear, biting at the skin beneath it.
'Oh, James,' she breathed, delirious at the simple triumph of having finally learned his name. 'Come with me, James.'
She stilled, muscles contracting deliriously as she rode the high of her orgasm to adequate satiation. It was never the same as it had been with him. With any luck she'd know consumptive satiation again. With him.
She couldn't sleep even if she wanted to. She lay in the bed with her eyes closed, trying to empty her mind of any thoughts or memories of him. It wasn't easy. Despite the release she'd found in the bath she easily returned to a state of nervous energy. When she heard Quinn return from her shopping excursion she abandoned any hope of sleep and instead returned to the living room.
"This dress is so perfect I'm actually jealous! And don't scream at me when you see the receipt because I know you can afford this. Or at least, you will be able to after tonight."
Natalie rolled her eyes. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that if Gentleman Twelve doesn't fall head over heels in love with you when he sees you in this dress then I know nothing at all."
"Come on, he's not going to fall in love with me because of a dre-" And then she saw it. "Shit."
Quinn pulled the dress from cover of the garment bag and swooned. "Metallic thread woven into the most gorgeous silk blend. And couldn't you just die for the pleating in the skirt? The way it will just pour from your curves. God, I'm good."
It was stunning; metallic taupe silk with the thinnest of straps over the shoulders and a skirt that would hit just above the ankle. It was graceful, balletic, and sexy as hell. She was starting to believe in her own luck.
An hour later her skin had been softened with a luxurious cream, her hair smoothed into a chignon, and her face made up to be simple but striking: winged black eyeliner, a hint of bronze in the hollows of her cheeks, a brush of champagne-highlighter across the apples of her cheeks, and a glossy nude lip gloss that tingled and puckered her lips. By the time she slipped on the dress and took in her reflection she could hardly recognize herself. She was polished and refined. The dress hugged at her ample breasts and hips before flowing decadently down her legs to her ankles, her feet decorated with the simplest of black strappy heels.
"Honestly," Quinn began from her side, her eyes taking in Natalie from head to toe, "if I wasn't so sure of my sexuality I think you in this dress would make me question it."
"Thank you. I think." Natalie took a deep breath and turned to the side watching how the dress moved as she did.
"Here." Quinn held up the garment bag to reveal a second item inside. "Wear this on top and then let him unwrap you in it." She took out the piece and held it to Natalie: a floor-length, off-white satin-
crepe cape that tied at the neck. Natalie slid the cape on and instantly felt lovelier and more elegant. She couldn't help but smile at her reflection.
"Do I want to know how much this cost?"
"More than six thou," Quinn smiled, her hands on Natalie's shoulders. "But you look like a billion. Do you remember the plan?"
"How could I forget? I'm going to go down into the lobby and wait."
"Trust me, you won't be waiting long."
The elevator doors opened on the main level and Natalie walked through, ignoring the heads that turned to stare in awe at her as she made her way to the marble-and-chandelier lobby. She stood at the bottom step of one of the two grand staircases, her arm resting comfortably on the ornate black and gold banister, and waited. It was a concentrated effort to remain cool and composed, to not let her eyes wander around for any sight of him, but she managed.
Her stomach was aflutter with nerves. If it weren't for the fact that she was standing perfectly still she'd fear toppling over in the strappy shoes.
"Good evening, Miss Harlow."
She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. She turned and was greeted by a handsome man in a crisp black suit whose nametag bore the name Brandon. Either the staff at Eden was exceptional at memorizing the names of every guest, or he had been sent for her specifically.
"May I escort you to your destination this evening?"
She tried to breathe deeply without him noticing. "Do I have a destination?"
"Yes, ma'am," he smiled. "The other half of your party - Gentleman Twelve, is it? - is waiting for you in the Garden Suite."
"Escort away."
She followed as Brandon climbed the staircase and crossed the threshold of Bidden - a lounge so posh Natalie would have fit right in in her several-thousand-dollar coat and dress - and brought her to the black lacquered doors of an elevator. Retrieving a key card from his inside jacket pocket, Brandon inserted it into the panel and the elevator doors opened at once.
"If you please," he motioned with his hand. When they were both inside he entered his keycard again into a second panel and depressed a button marked 'PH-B'.
Natalie fidgeted beneath the draped fabric of her cape, hands wringing fingers as the elevator climbed higher up the floor count. Her heart beat with a violent enthusiasm in her chest. One night. Five months. A random trip. It was coming together. At any moment the elevator doors would open and-
Ping.
"Your key," Brandon offered.
She accepted the gold key card, noting the heaviness of it in comparison to her own room key. "Have a good evening, Miss Harlow."
Natalie inhaled and exhaled slowly, gold key card positioned in her hand to unlock the red, double-door entrance of the Garden Suite. The door handle was gold, ornate, surprisingly old fashion considering the technology. It reminded her of Alice after she fell down the rabbit hole and the door that was too small to go through.
She closed her eyes as a memory from that night came fresh to mind.
'Everyone else who comes in here, man or woman, knows what they’re getting into. They know the rules. It is — what was the word you used? — a transaction between willing participants, between adults. And there you are, fresh from your fall through the rabbit hole.'
This, however, was not a transaction. There was no auction, no viewing session or envelope full of money. And yet she was just as nervous standing outside the Garden Suite door as she was entering the penthouse back home. She knew more about him now; things that didn't matter and those that did. He was married. He had a kid. He had an entire life beyond the red double-door entrance and there was no clue as to how she might be entangling herself into that life once she inserted the key card and stepped through.
Am I prepared for this?
EIGHT
The lock mechanism made a satisfying click as Natalie slipped the gold key card into it. A small electric green light brightened to indicate she was free to open the door. Her hand gripped the door handle and turned, but she stopped just short of pushing forward and opening it. She steeled herself for what she might find on the other side. For seeing him and what might follow.
I can do this.
She pushed the door open and crossed the threshold into the Garden Suite. It looked similar to her own, just on a much grander scale. There was no sight of him in it.
Stepping further into the room she noticed a long dining room table with two lit tapered candles in silver candlesticks in the center, loose papers and a laptop scattered around them.
"Can you have someone messenger them over? I'm at Eden, so tell-"
She turned at the sound of his voice, her heart flipping into her stomach when his blue-green eyes found her. He stopped mid-stride, mid-sentence with whoever he was on the phone with.
"I'll call you back." He slipped the phone into an interior pocket of his navy blue suit, effectively ending the call. "Natalie."
"Hello, James." She blushed under the scrutiny of his gaze as his eyes drifted across her face, down the silk-crepe cape to her shoes and back up again, resting just for a moment on her lips before meeting her eyes again. He was better looking than her fantasies suggested. Clean cut, honey colored hair in the same style he wore when she first saw him. Sexy as all get out.
"Of all the hotels in all of Vegas-" he started.
"You just happen to own this one?" she finished. "Young men don’t just drift cooly out of nowhere and buy a hotel in Vegas."
He bit his bottom lip then ran his tongue across the top, considering her and her words. He seemed to relax when recognition dawned. "Ben told you who I am."
"Ben told me your name. Google told me who you are."
"Ah, my name." He smiled and bounced back on his heels, his eyes casting up towards the coffered ceiling above. "And now you know everything?" He took a step toward her.
"Do I?" Her pulse raced in his presence but she remained calm, not willing to give away anything when he so easily read her before. "You're here."
"Yes." Another step.
"You're married."
His steps diverted from their path straight to her and went instead to a full sized bar adjacent to the dining table that doubled as a desk. She waited patiently as he poured red wine into two stemless glasses, offering her one as he turned.
He sighed as the space between them narrowed to no more than arm's-length distance. "I am."
She didn't sip, merely held the glass and watched as he took a drink. "You have a daughter."
"It's complicated," he answered quickly, his eyebrows creasing beneath his forehead as his eyes cast downward at his glass.
"Your wife had a child. What's complicated about that?"
"I'm not the father." His eyes met hers again, a conflicted maelstrom in the deep blue-green.
"Oh."
"You came up here dressed like that to ask about my Google search results?"
She wasn't going to let him distract her that easily, not when he was being so forthcoming and she was finally learning about the mysterious Gentleman Twelve. "Did she cheat on you?"
His eyes narrowed at her deflection. "Is it my imagination or are you not as polite as you once were?"
She shrugged casually but her eyes were focused as lasers on him. "Curiosity isn't a sin."
The corners of his mouth picked up at that. "Isn't it though? My wife was curious. Had an affair with another man. Got pregnant. Pretended the child was mine for a while. Is that not a sin?"
"You had an affair with me."
"It's not an affair if I pay you for sex. Speaking of which, did you pay off your student loans?"
She bristled at his words, how he reduced their one night together into a sufficiently convenient explanation. "It's in an account that pays out each month, that way I still get the benefit to my credit score." I'm talking finance with a billionaire. Because this is normal.
"Good girl." He smiled conspiratorially, a hint of pride in his eyes. Then, "What else did Google tell you about me?"
"How did you know I was here?" she asked, redirecting the conversation once again. "Not five minutes into check-in we were being upgraded to a suite."
"How do you like it, by the way? Your suite?"
"I- It's fine. It's beautiful actually. Why did you put us there?"
"This is my hotel," he gestured around with his wine glass, his free hand in his pants pocket. "You think I don't know what goes on in my own hotel? I put you there because I wanted to make sure you were taken care of. Sounds like you deserve it, Miss Junior Vice President."
Natalie was taken aback. "How did you-?"
"You told me. Last night. You still have my mask, by the way."
Natalie brought the full glass of wine to her lips for the first time and drank it down in one gulp, grimacing as the tannin-filled merlot passed over her tongue like a dry napkin.
He was her mystery masked man from Serpentine. She vaguely recalled that she thought he looked similar to the twelfth man, and up until the cabana when he partially revealed himself to her she had no reason whatsoever to suspect it was him all along.
A blunt laugh escaped her as she remembered waking up with little memory of the night before. "You undressed me. Put me in my pajamas."
"I did."
"You left me in the middle of the night."
"I did."
"You could have stayed. Slept with me."
"I don't sleep with women whose permission isn't given."
She rolled her eyes and muttered, "Trust me, you have my permission."
James stepped in closer until the gap that separated them was mere inches. He didn't touch her, but her skin burned at the anticipation of it. "Is that why you're here, Natalie?"
"I'm here because you're here. Once I figured out who you are, made the connections between everything that's happened since we got here, I wondered why you'd gone to such lengths just to keep your presence hidden." If she breathed any harder her chest would just barely graze against his, and even the thought of their clothing touching made her heart race faster.
Sinful Reunion (Book Two of the Bidden Series) Page 4