LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2)

by Kristina Weaver

  “Please understand.”

  “What? That you have a home here with people who love you and all you can think about is some stupid dream that won’t get you anywhere?!” I yell, breathing heavily and leaning down into her face. “Mark me now, Shaw. This will not happen so you may as well get that out of your head.”

  Her expression turns mulish, and I realize I’ve only worsened the problem with my stubborn arrogance.

  “Yes, it will! You can’t make me stay.”

  “Ah, but you’re wrong. Would it surprise you to know that I have a friend on the board of that museum you want to run to? No? Good. Because I do. One phone call and I’ll have you right back where I want you. Without options. Don’t make me do this, Shaw.”

  “You’d do that just to save face? Look, I know that you don’t want people talking about…well, I guess I’d be leaving you, or it would seem that way but—”

  “Not seem! It would be that way, and they’d be bloody right. I’ve offered you something that many women would die to have. A home. Money. Security. Family. And you’re throwing it back in my face like so much offal. What? You no longer need us so you think we’re disposable.”

  Unfair, but I’ll play this game anyway I have to, to come out the winner. She will be my wife, and she will bear me more children. No matter if she hates me or not.

  We share a passion that is white hot. Even now, as furious as she is with me, I can feel her shudder when I press my hardened cock into her belly and lean down to breathe into her ear.

  “I won’t let you hurt the people I love. You’re ours; I claimed you and told the world that you are mine, and I bloody keep what I claim.”

  Her skin pebbles beneath my lips, and I smile through the anger coursing through me when her hips bump involuntarily into mine, her body announcing its arousal even if she won’t.

  “You’re a bastard. You’re just like Robert. He saw something he wanted and took it without thought. I am not a piece of meat.”

  I despise being lumped into the same category as Rob. He was my brother and I loved him, but he was a liar and a cheat, the worst sort of man because he never once failed to use every charm he possessed to take what he wanted.

  And like a small, spoiled little boy, he always got tired of his toys and discarded them. I, on the other hand, never threw anything away that I liked. My motto is more along the lines of keep what you have and make it fit your life.

  Shaw fits into mine. Perfectly. She always will. I appreciate everything about her, least of all her ability to get me harder than hell and drain me to a satisfied lump with nothing more than her pleasure and the knowledge that she is mine.

  I always keep what is mine, and this time it will be no different.

  I don’t care about her feelings right now. In fact, I want to hurt her just as much as she’s hurt me with yet another rejection.

  But first I’m going to show her exactly why I always win. I’m going to turn her desires against her and use her up, drain her to the point of hollowness, and then I will mold her into the perfect mate.

  “Cameron.”

  I seal my mouth over hers and cut her off, my arms locking around her and lifting her, her struggles and curses no match for me when I carry her to the bed, rip off her robe, and fall on her lush body.

  By the time I enter her wet heat, she’s writhing and begging me, her body open and all mine for the taking.

  I’ll give her everything she needs, but I will take everything and ensure that she is dependent on me in every way when I am done.

  Shaw Mallory is mine, and I will never let her go.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Shaw

  “Yes, Mr. Trask. I understand, sir. Thank you so much for calling me. No. I completely understand. These things happen,” I say hollowly, disconnecting the call before the tears I feel brewing can slip out or choke me.

  I hate Cameron so much right now that it’s all I can do not to start screaming and stamping my feet in outrage. He did it. He really did it. Trask called today and very apologetically informed me that the position I was being offered back was filled and that someone had made a mistake.

  There was no mistake, and we both know it. The only mistake around here is the fact that I’d foolishly believed Cameron was incapable of the things he’d yelled at me last night.

  I didn’t want to believe that he would do it, that he’d callously and ruthlessly crush all my dreams, just because I’d refused his pathetic attempt at a proposal.

  I mean, really, as if he couldn’t have just thrown an “I do care for you” in there somewhere? And don’t even get me started on the way I feel, knowing that the asshat still doesn’t believe me about the baby!

  I refuse to marry a man who thinks I’d spread my legs for a guy and then try to pawn my kid off on the highest bidder. Robert was no angel, but fuck, at least he gave so little of a shit that he would never dream of fucking up my career to keep me.

  “Ducky dear, whatever is the matter?”

  I look up at Marge, as she comes into the room and gingerly lowers herself to the sofa, her movements cautious and slow.

  “Nothing Marge.” I lie, because I don’t want to hurt her, and in this, Cameron is right. If I tell her I was planning to leave, she’ll have a fit.

  And then she’ll cry, and Vic will go all weird, and I’ll end up apologizing and promising never to move a muscle out of the house. And that would just be right up his freaking alley!

  Bastard.

  “Why are you walking around like your pants are a size too small?” I ask, changing the subject before she can ask anything else.

  She blushes and looks away, a coy smile playing around her perfectly painted coral pink lips, and I feel my eyes stretch before a giggle of mortification escapes me.

  “Marge?” I squeak, and she colors even more.

  “Victor was very happy about a certain chamber pot he found yesterday. Let’s just say his good mood lasted. A very, very long time.”

  Oh geez!

  I giggle again but the sound is more of a choked squeak than anything else, especially when the devil himself strolls into the room with a very self-satisfied smirk and leans down to kiss the heck out of a giggling, blushing Marge.

  “Oh, behave yourself, you old reprobate. Ducky is watching.”

  Vic grins and rises, his blue eyes coming to rest on me with a wink that is really just…naughty.

  “Ducky is no stranger to the inevitable vagaries of heated passion and longing. Cameron almost ran me right off the stairs last night, and I dare say he wasn’t that eager just to get to the bloody loo. Was he, Ducky?”

  Oh dang.

  Now I’m blushing and trying to look anywhere else but at the knowing, old coot.

  “Oh, Victor, stop. You’re embarrassing Ducky,” she chides before slapping his ass and winking at me. “Off with you, old man. We ladies have a few things to discuss, and you’re keeping us from it. Go away.”

  “That’s not what you said last night, Margie love. Or this morning for that matter,” he drawls, strolling out with a grin and a whistle while his wife colors and pats at her red cheeks with a huffed laugh.

  “Incorrigible git! Now Ducky, I wanted to talk to you about the arrangements for the wedding. Millie called, and I think we both agree that a double wedding would be far more convenient than two weddings a few weeks apart. The whole clan is already showing up for Kent and Molly, and they’re so difficult to round up as it is—”

  “But, what’s the rush?” I ask, stalling the inevitable.

  I know this will happen, I just hoped that I could keep it on the backburner long enough to come up with some sort of plan. Anything really to buy time so that I don’t have to marry that, that ogre.

  “Well, really, Ducky, I should think that’s quite obvious,” she trills, giving my stomach a pointed look while smiling cheerily.

  “But, you weren’t worried about it before.”

  “Because we didn’t have any choice dear
est, but now that Cameron has claimed you and the babe, well, I would like my grandson to be born in wedlock.”

  Shit, that is totally reasonable.

  I can’t argue with that unless I tell her that I despise her seducing douche of a son and I’d like nothing more than to kick him in the balls so hard he won’t be making sperm for the next year at least.

  “And anyway, that vile Letitia is going around telling people that Cameron can’t have children and that he’s only marrying you to get his hands on the babe. We need to put up a united front to save face against the speculation.”

  That no good snake! When I get my hands on her, I’ll make her eat her freaking tongue for embarrassing like Cameron this—

  Oh shit. Do not defend him Shaw; he deserves whatever he gets. He is using you. He is trying to get his hands on the next Stone heir.

  But no matter how pissed I am at him, because duh, he’s totally ruining my life, I can’t stomach that bitch winning. In any way.

  “I don’t think the wedding is going to go that far in settling things, Marge.”

  “No dearest, but you and Cameron being seen out and about, obviously in love, will do the trick very nicely,” she says, clapping excitedly. “I’ve accepted an invitation to the Lords and Ladies tea. Dearest Millie has taken it upon herself to throw together a week-long event in your and Molly’s honor. There will be hunting and croquet and riding and oh so many activities. We’re off to Wales tomorrow to put things to rights.”

  “What?”

  Oh God. I can’t spend an entire week with Cameron constantly breathing down my neck. It’s bad enough I can’t control myself long enough not to respond to him, and now they expect me to sleep beside him and spend the daylight hours swooning all over him like a lovesick fool?

  “A whole week. Why, I am so excited, Ducky. Millie is almost green with envy that I’ll be a grandmamma first and, of course, she’s gone into hysterics about Cameron opening the family’s vault to retrieve his grandmamma’s engagement ring. This is all just so wonderful.”

  I have to say something. I can’t keep lying to these wonderful people about everything. It’ll hurt her a little, but I know that this is the only way if I am ever to get away from my controlling…what is he to me?! I can’t say. Lover? Yeah. But that’s about it.

  I’d thought for the space of a breath that we could even be friends before he’d gone all hard and cold on me, and if I’m honest, it still hurts that he went from warm, cuddly, joking Cameron to Mr. Beastly so quickly. And all because I wanted to maybe consider finishing out the internship.

  “Marge—?”

  “You know, Ducky, I was so inconsolable before you arrived. I felt as if there would never be another day of happiness for me, and I spent my days sitting in my room and staring off into nothing, just waiting for it all to be done. Nothing hurts like losing a child. Or seeing them harmed.”

  “Marge.”

  “I miss Robbie, every day, and I always will, but you have given my life light again. Not just because of the babe, though he is a precious gift I will always cherish, but because you are truly one of the best things to happen to me. Why, I love you so much I can’t bear the thought of not having you with us every day. Cameron assured me that you would stay on even after your marriage and why not…but I digress. I wanted to thank you for being my savior at such a dark time. You’re…you’re my very own child now.”

  All I can do is smile through my tears and hug her. There’s no way I could ever leave her now, and I know it. She’s my mum, my biggest defender, and the only love I’ve known besides Alec.

  Do I have to love her son to give her what she wants? No.

  But I fully intend to make him pay for being such a prick. I just have to figure out how to do that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cam

  “God, they’re fabulous, aren’t they?”

  I smile at Kent’s wistful tone and look over at the space where my Shaw and Molly stand, holding court with the older ladies, their clear laughter ringing out around the cozy drawing room.

  Of course, none of the younger set go near them, but stand around glaring, as if they’re an abomination amidst the glittering void that is society.

  Fanny and her cohorts stand, “chatting”, the odd snide comment ringing across the room every now and then as if the poor fool can’t help but to raise her voice.

  The slights go unnoticed by Molly and Shaw, as they stand talking and laughing, in their element, the only indication that the voiced insults carry their way comes from the odd glare from the high society matrons who love our girls.

  “That they are mate. So you finally pulled your head out of your arse and went for it with Molly.”

  “Yeah.” He sighs, and I smile when he grins wickedly. “That woman is a handful and then some. Who would have suspected the shy Miss Larson of being a hoyden and a tease?”

  “It’s always the quiet ones, mate. At least that’s what gran used to tell me,” I say, grinning when Shaw looks over at me and throws a few hundred daggers my way.

  Bloody impudent chit. I’ve spent hours making love to the woman, taming the hell out of her rebellious hide and still she always gets the bloody upper hand.

  I’d fucked her silly last night and into the morning hours, only stopping when my cock was so worn and tired he whimpered in defeat. I’d been smug and satisfied, and rightly so when she’d groaned and rolled to face me, a pillow or two shoved under her belly and her hair a wild mess of dark curls against the white pillow.

  “That all you got, stud?” she’d smirked before pulling the sheet over her head and going to sleep almost immediately.

  I’d stewed after that, unable to sleep, with my smug satisfaction evaporating with her every delicate snore. Because her saucy remark had done the impossible and brought my lad back to screaming erectness.

  I have the uncontrollable need to tame her and bring her to heel, and yet, she can bring me to life with nothing more than a look or the sarcastic quirk of her delicate brow.

  Kent is right. They’re bloody hoydens.

  “Well, Molly isn’t quiet anymore. I put that shite to rest right quick,” he says, grinning lustily. “Bloody insatiable that one. How’s your missus?”

  I grimace and look over at Letitia where she’s standing off to the side with Gen Arbsby. The fool woman has spent the last hour glaring at Shaw and making off color comments about everything from her hair, to her dress, to the rounded swell of my child, and I’m starting to get bloody sick of it.

  I’d cornered Mum and Millie the moment I realized she was here, but the old broads had just laughed and said that rubbing one’s face in something isn’t easy to do when the one in question is a city away and unaware of the situation.

  I agree, but that doesn’t mean I have to bloody like it. I don’t like having her near when things with Shaw are so unsettled. I have an ace up my sleeve, a last card to play if she ever decided to make a runner, but it’s so harsh a move to make that I pray I never have to use it.

  She’d hate me for sure then.

  “Good. Swelling. Perfect. Jesus, I never knew I could want so much,” I mutter, raking a hand through my hair and willing my dick to stay down when Shaw shifts and rubs a caressing hand over her belly.

  The sight never fails to turn me on, and sick bastard that I am, I want to be that hand. Desperately.

  “True mate. True. I spent so long trying to fool myself into not wanting Molly that by the time I knew what I wanted I almost lost her. It took a lot of pleading on my part to even get her to listen to a word I had to say, and then I think I only won because I used my sexy body as a lure.” He laughs, swiveling his hips and grinning like a loon.

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “Ah, but a happy one who happens to adore his woman,” he says, looking at me shrewdly. “So tell me what’s going on there. You are not the sort of bloke who gets a girl pregnant and then waits almost eight months to wed her.”

  No. But I am
, however, the man who will claim a child I consider mine and do anything to convince a woman I used to despise to give me her life and everything she is.

  “Shaw is not, shall we say, that amenable to having a baby change the course of her whole life. I’ve had to step lightly with her,” I say, hedging slightly.

  I’m not lying, just saying only what I need to, to give him what he wants. It’s a useful skill in business that I have honed on other men. But not men as crafty as my cousin.

  “Give it a rest. I know something ain’t right there. I love your mum; she’s almost as nuts as my own, but that woman is a rabid force of nature, and she wouldn’t have let this carry on for this long without reason.”

  I keep my gaze focused across the room and give the occasional glance Letitia’s way to ensure she’s as far from my girl as possible before lowering my voice to a whisper. “Whatever happened before is in the past. Shaw and that baby are mine. Got it?”

  Kent holds his hands palms up and twists his lips.

  “Got it, mate. You having any other problems that need taking care of? Griff and the lads are coming in tonight.”

  I shudder at the thought of those wild animals around the “higher society” misses and grin at the thought of setting him loose on Letitia. The poor fool won’t know what hit her.

  “Letitia has been sniffing around lately. Apparently seeing my pregnant fiancée hasn’t slowed her down one bit. Perhaps Griff could run interference so that I won’t have to be split in my attentions?”

  Kent smirks and palms his phone, speaking quietly before grinning widely and ending the call with a snarl of excitement. “He said that if he has to fuck a half-dead carcass, you owe him. He wants your Bugatti for a month. Or two.”

  “Bloody opportunist that one.”

  “Aye. He’s a Stone. You ready for the theatrics? I’ve decided that if Griff can intercept for you, I might have to loose Dougal on Fanny for a few days. If she can survive him.”