by Leslie Kelly
That had been a turning point, when he’d finally stopped offering, accepting the fact that she didn’t want any goodies.
He wasn’t finished. “And I do have penthouse apartments in every major city in the world, whenever I want them.”
“They’re nice,” she replied with a shrug.
“Nice?” He drew her closer, and she slid a bare thigh between his legs, curling into him as though they were two strands of the same vine.
“Not very homey.”
“In my opinion, home is defined by the people who remain behind the front door when it closes at night.”
She heard something in his voice—something intense. As if he was admitting that here, with her, over the past couple of weeks, had been as much a home to him as anyplace.
“I’m glad,” she murmured, not asking him to confirm her theory.
Hugging her, he insisted, “I’m fine, Viv.”
“I’m sure you are. Still, you were pretty young to take on the world. So much responsibility at, what, twenty-four?”
“Three.”
Twenty-three years old. She hadn’t even finished college at that age, being a five-year slacker. But Damien was already running a multimillion-dollar international corporation. And, judging by where he was today, doing it well.
“It doesn’t sound like you’ve had many opportunities to do anything just for yourself.”
His stare grew more intense. “So you can probably get what I’m doing here, then.”
“Here, in this bed?”
“Here in Arlington, taking a break from the hotel business and indulging in my real interest—sports. And you.”
She was so glad to be included on that short list that she didn’t dwell on the sports part of the equation. She’d had no idea he loved sports, and wasn’t sure how he was indulging that love. But now that she knew about it, she realized there was one thing she could give him that he couldn’t easily get for himself. After all, he ran hotels...but she worked for a professional hockey team.
“I see.”
She leaned over to press a kiss on his slightly grizzled cheek. Damn the man was sexy in the morning. But it was morning—and it was growing later by the second. She glanced at the clock and sighed. She had to get up or she’d be late to work. Luckily, her office was right up the street.
“I have to get moving, but first, there was something I wanted to ask you. About work.”
“I thought we didn’t talk about that.”
“We don’t. Well, we haven’t. But, I’m ready to at least discuss the topic again. My job’s great, I’m no longer having any issues. In fact, there’s a special celebration tomorrow night, and I want you to come as my guest.”
“You mean the season-ticket-holders event?” he asked, appearing surprised.
“You’ve heard about it?”
He merely laughed in response. “Ha ha. Very funny.”
Okay, as a sports fan, of course he would.
“Yes, well, why don’t you come? It’s being held right downstairs, in one of your own ballrooms. There shouldn’t be much press—thank God—but lots of local celebs will be there, plus dozens of other people. The entire Vanguard staff has been invited to bring dates. It’s a chance to get all fancied up and go out in public together.”
He rolled toward her, scraping the tip of his finger along her jawline. “I’d already accepted my invitation, of course.”
Huh. Okay. Well, she supposed it did make sense that a sports-fan millionaire would buy season tickets to the team his girlfriend—or whatever she was—worked for. She felt a little deflated at not being able to give him a superspecial treat, but was still glad he would be there.
“You don’t mind people knowing we’re together?” he added.
“Because of what happened with Neeley?”
“Don’t mention that bastard’s name. I just don’t want there to be any awkwardness for you.”
“Why would there be? I’m an adult, I have a right to a personal life.”
“What about the lawyers and HR people? I mean, I don’t give a damn myself, but are you sure you don’t mind if they nose around and ask questions about who you’re with and why?”
She snorted. “They believe I’m not going to file a lawsuit, and that’s all they care about. My private life shouldn’t factor into it.”
“I suppose not.”
Surprisingly, Damien was the one who suddenly seemed uncertain about them being seen together. But Viv was nothing if not persistent when she wanted something. Now, having come up with the idea, she couldn’t imagine anything she wanted more than to go to that banquet, which was as much a celebration for the staff as it was for the players and the public, on the arm of this remarkable man.
Fortunately, as she got up to go into the shower, Damien cleared his throat and gave her what she wanted.
“Okay, if you’re sure, I’d be delighted to be the man on your arm tomorrow night.”
“Excellent,” she said. Feeling sassy, she said, “You don’t have to do a thing but look pretty and keep your mouth shut. You’ll be the perfect arm candy.”
Being Damien, he took no offense, instead bursting into laughter. “I think I can do that.”
“I’m sure you can,” she said before sashaying away, sure his stare was glued to her bare butt.
She smiled as she started the shower, imagining how great it would be to have Damien Black as her arm candy. There only remained one thing to do. She just had to ease her righteous stance...and sneak a gorgeous dress, and some to-die-for shoes, out of that front closet.
* * *
DAMIEN WANTED TO walk through the door of the banquet hall with Viv on his arm, to make it clear to Sam, and anybody else, that they were together. It was what she wanted, what she’d asked of him, and he had long passed the point of being able to refuse her anything. The invitation—her willingness to open their relationship to potential comment from her coworkers—had been a sign of her trust in him, and he would never do anything to betray that trust.
Unfortunately, though, walking in with her on his arm wasn’t possible. Viv had a role to play in the event, which her department had organized. She’d hurried back to her own place after work, and then returned to the hotel ballroom, promising to meet him there.
Just after seven, dressed in a fitted tux he never traveled without, Damien headed downstairs. He was anticipating the sight of Viv in the deep blue dress he’d noticed her grabbing from the closet yesterday, when she’d thought he was in the shower. Viv was incredibly stubborn, and wouldn’t take a thing he offered her, but she’d been unable to resist “borrowing” the designer gown. He had no doubt it would be cleaned, pressed and returned to the closet by the end of the week.
But for now, since she’d taken the garment, he’d decided to get her something to go with it. He remembered the dress well—the cut, the color, which was the exact shade of her eyes—and had stopped by the downstairs jewelry shop that afternoon. He looked forward to seeing his gift against that fabric...and her smooth, silky skin.
The event didn’t officially get under way until seven thirty, but he wanted a few minutes with Viv to give her the present. He didn’t intend to drag her out of the ballroom—if he got her alone, she’d probably just refuse the gift. But if they were within sight of anyone else, she’d accept gracefully. And then she’d try to give him the jewelry back when the night was over, like a star borrowing a piece for an award show. Only his Viv wasn’t going to get away with being just a renter. Not this time.
He didn’t spot her right away. The banquet hall wasn’t crowded, but some key people were already here. A few of the players and their wives chatted near the bar. Some office staff had claimed a table up front. The general manager, newly promoted to the position permanently, spotted him, blanched and made
as if to come over. Damien shook his head once. He was here as Viv’s date tonight, not as the owner. He would prefer to fly under the radar, which was one reason he’d created an LLC to purchase the team, and had enlisted other investors. His name wasn’t on the letterhead and he preferred it that way.
Then he spotted Sam. His friend saw him, waved and came over to join him.
“Spiffy suit,” he said. “Custom-fitted, I presume?”
Damien nodded and glanced at his friend’s tux. “Rented, I presume?”
Sam feigned offense, and they both laughed. Glad the ice was broken, and his oldest friend seemed in a good mood—with at least one Scotch under his belt, judging by the nearly empty glass he carried—Damien was direct.
“I’m looking for Viv.”
“Who?”
“You know damn well who,” he said. “Vivienne Callahan. I’m her date.”
Sam immediately lowered his glass onto the nearest table. “You’re joking.”
“Do I ever joke?”
His friend frowned. “I thought we’d straightened that out.”
“You might have believed so. I never agreed there was anything to be straightened.”
Sam began to grumble. Damien cut him off.
“Viv found out who I was right away, and had no problem with it.” Seeing his friend was unconvinced, he said, “I know her, Sam. We’ve been dating for weeks. I promise you, the whole thing with Neeley and Stoker is over and done with. Our ‘fraternizing’ is not going to cause any trouble.”
“Women always cause trouble, bro.”
He hated to believe that his own sister had made the normally sunny-natured attorney a whole lot more pessimistic about women. But he suspected it was true.
“Not Viv.”
“She could stab you in the back...”
“I’m not going to discuss this with you anymore,” he said, cutting the man off. “I’m involved with Viv. If anybody has a problem with that, they’re welcome to go fuck themselves.”
Sam obviously recognized that Damien was in a mood where it was best for everyone else to back off, and he did just that. Holding both hands up, palms out, he said, “Okay I get it. I can’t talk you in to doing anything you don’t want to do. Never could.”
“Never will.”
They eyed each other, and then Sam smiled, his good humor never gone for long. “She is beautiful.”
“No kidding.”
Sam glanced over Damien’s shoulder, and his eyes became saucers. His mouth fell open. Somehow, Damien was sure of what his friend was going to say even before he said it.
“Holy shit, maybe I’ll fight you for her. Did I say beautiful? Jesus, she’s gorgeous.”
Damien slowly turned, watching as Viv emerged from another side of the ballroom, near an area set up as a dance floor. The overhead lights were revolving in a kaleidoscope of different colors, and she stepped into a pool of gold that made her long, flowing hair luminescent. Like a molten river falling down her back in thick, shiny waves. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart skipped a beat just at the sight of her. Smiling, young, beautiful. Mine.
Yes. His. He was shocked at the surge of possessiveness that swelled through him, having never felt so lost under the spell of any woman. But Viv had him by the gut—or the heart or the cock, he honestly wasn’t sure which. Nor did he really care.
He wanted her. Just her. For as long as he could have her.
Right now, if he was asked, he’d have to say that forever couldn’t possibly be long enough.
She said a word to the leader of a string quartet strumming softly in the corner, and then glanced across the room, catching his eye. The light above her segued into a soft blue that caught the gleaming, glittery strands of material sewn into her royal blue gown. The dress was long and form-fitting, strapless, with a heart-shaped neckline, and a full bottom that flared out below the knee. He didn’t know the name of the style, but recognized the Jessica Rabbit look immediately, and smiled at how perfectly the hourglass design suited her figure.
He was not the only man in the room under her spell. Every other guy there, alone or in a group, had his eyes glued to the beautiful blonde.
Possessiveness put Damien’s feet into motion. He strode across the room toward her, watching the way her eyes sparkled and her lips curved up in a welcoming smile.
Before he’d even gotten to her, he’d reached into his pocket to withdraw his special present. And when he stood in front of her, he immediately said, “Close your eyes.”
“What?” She glanced around and laughed nervously. “Uh, why?”
“Just do it,” he whispered.
She licked her lips, a flush rising into her cheeks, and then nodded. Her eyes drifted closed, those thick, dark lashes resting on her high cheekbones. Without a word, Damien lifted the necklace and draped it around her neck, fastening it and letting the long strand of diamonds and sapphires fall into a V right above that perfect cleavage. She gasped at the touch of cold metal on her skin, and immediately opened her eyes, trying to peer past his hands to what he’d put on her.
“Damien, I can’t...”
“Shut up.”
To his surprise, she did. Maybe because she’d spun around to the mirrored wall behind them and had glimpsed how perfectly the necklace complemented the dress.
“It’s beautiful. I’m not sure what to say.”
“Say, ‘I’m not going to try to give this back later tonight, Damien.’”
She nibbled her lip, and he knew she’d already thought of doing exactly that. Considering for a moment, she finally murmured, “Thank you. I love it.”
“I’m glad.”
Twining her fingers in his, he led her away from the dance floor, toward the bar. He recognized a few faces and nodded greetings, but hoped his impersonal, generic smile kept anyone from getting too close.
The ballroom began to fill. The Vanguard was a new team. To his gratification, however, the season ticket drive had been successful. There was a lot of energy and enthusiasm in the gathering, and he found himself caught up in it, even if he was trying to be incognito tonight.
“Damien, isn’t it?” a voice asked.
Turning, he spied Viv’s friend’s fiancé, whom he’d met a few weeks ago at the Mexican place. “Yes. Lex, right?”
The other man put out his hand. “Yep.”
“Is Amelia with you?”
The other man pointed toward Viv and Amelia, who were hugging hello.
“Are you here in an official capacity?” Damien asked, only slightly concerned. He had no worries about Lex doing anything to hurt Viv, or put another embarrassing spotlight on her. But if the press was going to be a presence here, he’d have to make a point of sticking close to her.
“Nah. I’m a hockey fan. I bought season tickets as soon as they went on sale.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Lex glanced toward Amelia and Viv. “It’ll be okay,” the man murmured. “What happened is yesterday’s news.”
“I hope so,” Damien replied.
As speech-making time approached, Damien and Lex joined Amelia and Viv at a table near the front. He’d already informed the GM that he didn’t want to speak, or be acknowledged in any way. Tonight wasn’t about him; it was about the staff, the players and the fans. So he was comfortable just sitting with Viv and her friends, as well as several others at the table, enjoying the evening.
The dinner was, he was pleased to note, first-rate. Every Black Star Hotel had a top-notch catering team, and tonight’s did him proud.
“You have to track down whoever made the pastries and give him a big fat raise,” Viv said, cooing as she took another tiny bite of a chocolate-and-raspberry confection.
He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I’ll have a tr
ay sent up to the penthouse for later. I only want to eat it if I can lick it off your body.”
She shushed him, but also dropped a hand on his thigh, squeezing it. Excitement and energy snapped between them, the sexual tension as high as it had ever been. Perhaps it was because they were in public, unable to touch or kiss, or maybe it was that she looked so incredibly stunning and had drawn the attention of every man in the room. Whatever the reason, he suddenly wanted her with an intensity that made him shake.
“Wait, did I hear that right?” asked the woman seated next to him. “Are you the manager of this hotel?”
The woman and her husband, a doctor whose face had grown redder with each martini he’d consumed, had monopolized the conversation all evening. She kept leaning close to whisper to Damien, making him uncomfortable. He recognized a wealthy trophy wife on the prowl when he met one. There wasn’t a more recognizable species, nor one he hated more.
“Not exactly,” he said, not wanting to get into it.
Lex, sitting beside him, suddenly exclaimed, “Holy shit, I just realized who you are!”
Damien cast him a quelling glance.
“You’re Damien Black. As in Black Star Hotels and Black Ice LLC.” Lex frowned at Viv. “Jeez, why don’t you tell a guy? If I’d known who he was, I woulda arranged an interview.”
Before Viv could say anything, the doctor’s wife, her nails as red as her lips and her dress, dropped a hand on his arm.
“Oh, my, you own Black Star? We love your hotels.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ve never slept in more comfortable beds,” the woman said with a feline grin. “They’re like big playgrounds.”
Damien was about to pull his arm away when Viv, his vixen, leaped in, defending her turf.