by Sun Chara
He sized her up and down, and his body throbbed…for her. Ruthlessly, he resisted the sexual pull to gather her up in his arms, but her forlorn look penetrated his blockade, stabbing his heart.
Yeah, he’d get the hacker, but would it cost him Nina?
CHAPTER TEN
Cade stood with his hands behind his back, the brooding look in his eyes reflected in the wide expanse of window of his New York headquarters on Madison Avenue. The memory of their sexual tryst last night in his penthouse had him hardening up…but something else prodded his heart. Elusive. He couldn’t identify it. And it was stoking his frustration. A swear word blasted from his mouth and tainted the air.
“Having a bad day already, dear? Nina waltzed into his office, and stood her ground several feet from him, his surprise at her appearance evident from his face. She glanced over her shoulder at her old office…a bittersweet memory taunted, and her back went rigid. “Your receptionist must’ve gone on a loo break, so I showed myself in.”
He nodded, taciturn.
“My debt’s paid in full.” She tossed the penthouse keys on his desk,
taking in every flicker of his face; the flare of his nose, the shuttering of his eyes, the set of his mouth. Her pulse skittered and her palms went damp. Images replayed in her mind…him holding her, touching, tasting…heaven. Emotion rose inside her, and she clutched her handbag, willing herself to breathe normally.
“How do you figure that?”
“The deal was for one night…” She couldn’t get the word ‘sex’ out. It sounded so cold, mechanical, impersonal; and there had been nothing cold or clinical about their lovemaking. It had been a volcanic eruption of the senses and the heart…at least for her.
“With me.”
She nodded, wanting more…of him. But she couldn’t, not without his love. It would crush her. Be strong, be smart, she told herself. A wisp of a smile. Smarter.
“Yes.” It had been a memorable night of passion with him. Unforgettable. A knife twisted in her heart. “And now it’s done…it’s over.”
Shifting a step, she had the armchair between them. He noted her movement, and his eyes turned glacial. She gripped the smooth leather to
steady her jelly-filled legs.
Mere hours ago, Nina had fluttered her eyelashes and with a satisfied smile on her face, stretched across the king-size bed to touch him. Her hand landed on the empty pillow, her eyes flew open, and fuzz filled her brain cells. She had squinted at the note propped on the bedside table lamp, and her heart plummeted to her pink-tipped toes curling on the satin sheet. His scent, cool spice and man, clung to the sheets, spiking her memory with every detail of their sizzling night.
A bleat of sound slipped from her mouth, exploded in a groan, and even the New York traffic far below couldn’t smother the hopelessness of it.
An image of their village abode flashed through her mind, and the groan morphed into a wistful sigh. It’d been rough, he’d been demanding and bossy, and sparks had flown—but oddly enough, she’d been happy in a simple, uncomplicated way.
She snatched the note, and his impersonal words scrawled in black ink, smacked her face. ‘Returning late. Chauffeur at your disposal.’ C.S.
A shiver ran through her, and her teeth chattered. She drew the sheet closer about her and huddled beneath. He hadn’t even signed the thing.
In the lull of her thoughts, her heart thumped her ribs. One, two,
three…she chided herself at her idiocy. What did she expect? A declaration of love? An epiphany after one night with her? She laughed, and the sound turned to a whimper.
She might be married to him, but she was no wife to him, not even for one night. A one time mistress would be more like it. She turned up her
nose and sniffed. A mistress might fare better than she had under his controlling dictates. She pressed her eyelashes closed, determined not to cry, but her lip quivered. She wanted to scream, to release her anger at him and at her own foolishness.
A tear oozed beneath her lashes, slid down her cheek and settled on the corner of her mouth. She flicked it away with her tongue, the saltiness stinging the bleakness inside her. She hiccupped and hugged his pillow. Another tear welled up and spilled over, then another.
Finally, she sucked in mouthfuls of oxygen and knew what she had to do. Must do. For her sanity, for her father, for her business in Florence, before everything she’d worked for bit the dust. She managed to drag herself from the bed and to the shower.
She dressed in a classic Chanel suit and stilettos to boost her confidence. After applying a touch of mascara and lipstick, she swept her
hair up in a chignon, clipped gold hoops in her ears and packed her few belongings. She flirted with the idea of skipping out while he was at work but that’d be cowardly. For her dignity and peace of mind, she had to see him. Confront him one more time.
“Paid in full.” She enunciated each word, hoping that hearing them again would convince her.
A silent beat.
“You’ve paid a portion,” he said, his tone unflinching.
Startled, she gaped at him. “What?”
Cade tried to crush the erotic kick in his male counterparts, but it didn’t work. He wanted her…more nights with her…a lifetime of sensual delight. Their passion blasted all records—his chest expanded, his blood heated—images of her with him, under him,…skyrocketing…flashed through his psyche.
“A night is what we agreed on.” He shoved his hands in his jeans’ pockets, and drew closer.
She inched backward but the edge of his desk stopped her.
Good.
“A night—half of a twenty-four cycle—twelve hours.” He cleared his throat. “A technicality” –he shrugged— “but since we got a late start” –his eyes bore into her, into her soul to extract something, anything that’d give him the edge— “our midnight madness lasted say two hours—”
She averted her gaze, so he couldn’t decipher her reaction.
So, he went on full throttle— “add our one hour pre-dawn frolic in the Jacuzzi…”
Her face flamed.
“ … tops, three hours.” Another step brought him within inches of her, her exotic perfume ensnared, and he closed the gap. “The electrical combustion afterward would be another two.”
Was that a catch in her breath? Or his?
“Total, five hours…with you,” he murmured, his words gruffer than he intended. “If not for the emergency at the site this morning and the pending VIP meet in an hour, we’d still be—”
“London?” she whispered, her voice wavering.
“Moot point.” He brushed stray tendrils at her nape with his knuckles, tempted to bury his face in the softness. “You didn’t come back to bed.”
Lifting a few strands, he brushed the ends across his mouth, then allowed them to drift between his fingers. Silky, smooth, sensual. “You still owe me seven hours…in my bed.”
“You can’t be serious.” She licked her lips, and that had his gut clenching. Then, she turned her baby blues full force on him and sucker-punched him in the solar plexus.
And because of that, his tone grew harsher. “I am…serious.”
“You’re unreasonable.”
“You will pay my due to the last minute, second—”
“Your heart’s made of stone.”
Her words nearly felled him, but he remained resolute. His uncle’s morning text warned something big was going down tonight. Cade had to keep her under surveillance to ensure she didn’t wander into a danger zone,
“You will do as I say.”
“If I refuse?” Her chin went up a notch.
“You’ll have to pay the balance in cold hard cash.”
“You know I don’t have that kind of money.” The obstinate angle of her chin softened, and her lashes fluttered, shielding her eyes, but her tone remained cool…all business.
He shrugged. “Then you had better warm my bed tonight.”
“No.”
“I wouldn’t be so hasty.” His words were smooth steel. “Papa might get caught in the crossfire.”
Her head snapped around.
He lifted a sardonic brow.
“Cade, no,” she pleaded.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
She didn’t move, setting off her own flare. “I’ll call him.”
A pause, then— “Go ahead.”
Squinting at him, she pulled her cell from her purse and keyed in the number, her hand quivering. Seconds ticked by, and she caught her lip between her teeth, her cheeks going pale.
“Something wrong?” he asked, sotto voce.
“‘The subscriber’s number is not in service,’” she mumbled, dazed. “But he always answers my calls.”
“Apparently not today.” He propped his hip on the edge of the desk,
rolled up his sleeves, his covert gaze playing tug-of-war with hers.
Unaware of her effect on him, she licked lip-gloss from her bottom lip, her luminous eyes glazing over. He had a gut-checking moment.
Civility was not all it was cut out to be.
He wanted to swat everything off the desk and take her on the glossy top. Every muscle in his torso corded, and he crunched down on his molars.
No interference. Not even Nina. From nabbing the bad man and stemming the financial gutting of his corporation. Tonight.
“Where is he?” she accused, her fists pounding his chest. “What have you done with my father?”
“Hey,” he muttered, grabbing her wrists. “I’m a businessman, not a monster.”
“That’s debatable.” She pulled away from him, her body language reflecting her resentment, and he let go so quickly, she stumbled back into a chair.
“Call him tomorrow, Nina.”
“Why?”
He tilted his mouth in a cocky grin. “By tomorrow you’ll be all paid up, honey.”
A sharp intake of breath, and she spun around to leave, but he shifted, blocking her path.
He tutted, and propelled her against him. He swooped down and claimed her mouth with his. A heartbeat later, he released her.
“A taste of what’s to come, darlin’.”
“You’re a bast—”
He pressed the intercom, his words cold…cruel. “Mrs. Sloan is leaving. Send in my next appointment.”
Nina rushed out of the office, her eyes blurring with tears and bumped into the blonde receptionist strolling back in. She kept her finger on the elevator button, willing it to hurry up.
“Mr. Sloan said you forgot your keys.” The receptionist poked her head back out of the door, dangling the keys from her fingers and fluffing her short bob with her other hand.
“I have another set, thanks.” But not to the penthouse, the thought zipped across her mind.
At that moment, the elevator doors slid open, and Nina slipped inside, relieved. The elevator closed and began its descent. Mr. Big and Mighty Sloan was coming in for a crash landing. She still had an ace to play. But, first she’d ensure her father was safe by calling the only other person he’d confide in.
Nina hurried across the lobby to the restroom and retrieved the Macy’s shopping bag she’d stashed in the nook behind the trashcan earlier. She left behind everything he’d given her—gowns, jewelry, shoes. A wry smile teased her mouth. Her favorite Italian shoes had been a temptation, but she’d learned her lesson. She’d owe him nothing more.
In order not to alert his chauffeur, she’d stuffed her few belongings in a shopping bag, rather than a suitcase. Clutching the bag in her hand, she hurried across the foyer, her heels clicking on the marble tiles. The moment she stepped through the revolving doors, she got bumped into the stream of humanity.
Clouds loomed overhead.
The pretzel man stood on one street corner, the hot dog stand opposite, the pita & falafel seller rolled his trolley along the sidewalk, the T-shirt vendor and the flower girl claimed their own spots to the backdrop of beeping yellow cabs—a unique trademark of the New York weave.
Nina flagged down a cab, and when it swerved to a stop, she tossed the bag in the back and followed it. “John F. Kennedy Airport, please.”
A squeal of tyres, and the cabby barged into the flow of traffic; passing a Starbucks spilling over with patrons on a coffee fix prior to boarding the subway, and whizzing past Patrick who leaned against the parked limo.
She twisted around, and a grin curved her mouth. The chauffeur
yanked off his cap, tossed it on the ground, snatched it up, and dove into the limo; nosing away from the curb after her.
A giggle bubbled in her throat, and she leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes. Reprieve. Cade’s chauffeur would never catch up to her through the morning rush hour.
A sobering thought flashed through her mind and the giggle dissipated. She hooked a loose curl behind her ear, her heart hammering and her hands clammy.
What would happen when Cade caught up with her?
There would be hell to pay.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“She gave you the slip?” Cade vaulted from his chair and pressed the intercom. “Cancel all my appointments.”
He swept up his Armani overcoat and sprinted for the elevator, barking orders into his cell, barely noticing his secretary’s open-mouthed confusion. “On my way down…Waldorf…quickest route.”
A hush, and the elevator doors slid open. He stepped inside, disconnected the call to his chauffeur and pressed the line to his pilot. “Prepare the Lear for take-off.” He glanced at the Omega on his wrist. “I’ll be at Kennedy within the hour.”
******
Patrick pulled the limo to a stop in front of the Waldorf-Astoria and Cade leaped out, storming through the Park Avenue entrance.
“Uhm…dress code.” The bellman ogled Cade’s mud-caked
boots beneath his Armani coat. Cade gave him a fierce look. The man stepped aside, and he crossed the chandelier-lit lobby.
Cade barged into Sir Harry’s bar, scanned the dim interior and grimaced. Struck out again. His uncle and Nina’s father—no shows. A growl of frustration erupted from deep in his chest. He spun around to exit and bumped into a woman rushing in.
“I-I’m glad I got here in time,” she said, anxiety cracking her words.
“Sorry, you’ve got the wrong guy.” He sidestepped her. What a pick-up line.
“I don’t…” She grabbed his arm. “…have the wrong guy.”
“Lady—” He braked to a stop, noted the concern in her features…her eyes. Memory knocked, and he snapped his fingers. “Limassol Wine Fest…my uncle’s date.”
“Actually,” she murmured, wringing her gloved hands, “I’m his wife and—”
“You have a message from him?” Cade demanded, his words crackling with impatience.
She gave him a level look with her mascara-fringed eyes that made him squirm. And Cade Sloan never, but never, squirmed, not since he was a kid of six. Her hazel irises reflected a ring of gold—golden-brown eyes.
Like his own.
Shock immobilized him for a second, and then feelings he’d buried deep inside him for almost thirty years erupted in an avalanche of bitterness. It must’ve reflected on his face, for she closed the gap with a step and reached for him.
He shook his head and backtracked a couple of paces; then his discipline kicked in, and he stood his ground. Nothing made sense. Was everyone mad? Or just him?
“I can explain,” she murmured, almost pleading.
“You had better.” Cade took her elbow, guiding her to a secluded table in the corner and nodded to the bartender. He needed a drink. Strong, black coffee. And by the peaked look on her face, she did too, spiked with something stronger. “You have exactly ten minutes.”
“I can do it in five,” she blurted. “Details, I’ll leave for another time.”
“Get started.” He plunked down in the chair opposite, giving her no quarter.
At the close of her tale, stunned, Cade pushed his untouched coffee asid
e and stood up to leave.
“Easy there.” A man dug his fingers in his shoulder and shoved him back down.
“What—” Cade sank in the chair, the point of the gun digging in his ribs. Fine hair on the back of his head stood on end…there was something familiar about the gunman. Acrid taste scoured his tongue. “Daddy Sloan?” His nickname for his father slipped out unconsciously from Cade’s lips.
“Long time no see,” the stranger blustered, concealing the firearm beneath his coat.
“No.” His mother rose to her feet, her face ashen.
“You got that right, lil’ lady,” he blurted, his alcohol laden breath tainting the air. “Your pre-wedding fling with the favorite son popped this bastard, but I wasn’t fooled.”
Cade siphoned a gallon of air into his lungs, and then let it hiss between his teeth, every sinew in his body primed for attack. “You…uh… missed me and decided to come calling?”
His father shot him a furious look, and ignored his wisecrack.
“Joe always had the upper hand over half-bro here, but I got you anyway,” he bragged, his eyes shifty. “Willingly or not.”
“But you didn’t keep me,” his mother murmured.
“Shut up,” the gunman ordered, and then guffawed. “I slammed you Sloans where it hurt most, your bank account.” He grabbed Cade’s untouched coffee, poured it down his throat and swiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “He laughs best who laughs last.”
“What is it you want?” Cade demanded, the irony smashing him
between the eyes. The man he chased for over a year stood inches from him, and he couldn’t make a move to bring him down.
“Do as I say and no one gets hurt.” His father motioned them to get
moving, his hand in his coat pocket, his signal clear. “A ride to Sloan…er… Century Global for a final transaction, and we’ll call it a day.” A pause… “And that lil’ lady you’ve been sporting on your arm will be off the hook.”