Full Disclosure (No Secrets Book 1)

by Julie Olsen

  The elevator stopped and he moved to the side, his hand going to the small of my back as he steered me down the hall. Damien opened the door and ushered me into the grandest hotel room I had ever been in.

  “You like big and rich, don’t you?” I said, taking in the high ceilings, crown molding, wainscoting and multiple doorways leading to who knew how many rooms.

  He laughed as he led me through to the master bedroom. “It’s all part of the package. Our bag has been brought up,” he said, pointing at the hanging garment bag. “I’m going to take a quick shower while you take a look at what you’ll be wearing.”

  The moment of truth. With a sense of dread I approached the bag and unzipped it. Tucked within was a dark gray suit with a white shirt and deep blue tie. I stared at the jacket, imagining Damien decked out in a suit and tie. The very thought made me salivate.

  Digging a little further behind, I was stunned to discover an evening gown in the same shade of lapis lazuli as his tie.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed, pulling it out and laying it across the bed. I spent a few minutes just staring at it. Strapless with shimmering beads from the sweetheart neckline bodice down through the mermaid skirt, the gown sparkled under the overhead light. I ran my hand over the sleek beads, knowing with a sixth sense that the dress would fit and wondering if he had somehow taken my measurements while I slept.

  Damien appeared beside me soundlessly, a towel wrapped around his hips. “So, what do you think?”

  “Damien, it’s stunning,” I gushed. “How did you‌—‌”

  “Did you find the shoes?” he interrupted softly. He produced a glittering pair of Stuart Weitzman silver stilettos along with a small silver beaded evening clutch. “I know how you ladies love shoes.”

  I was stunned. “I don’t know what to say.” I shook my head at him as he placed the shoes in my hands. “Thank you.”

  “No baby, thank you for accompanying me. With you on my arm tonight, everybody here will know I’m the luckiest man on the planet.” He stroked my cheek, leaning in for a chaste kiss. He smelled like soap and his deodorant and his delicious Damien scent. I wanted to throw my arms around him and tug his towel free, but he backed away before I had a chance to act on my impulse.

  “In the shower with you. Go on. I’ve been waiting long enough to see you in this dress.” He turned me and swatted me on the butt, making me giggle as I rather ungracefully hurried into the bathroom.

  The bathroom was equally sumptuous, and Damien had thoughtfully laid out my toiletries where I would need them. After a woefully too short hot shower where I still managed to shave and shampoo and condition my hair, I stepped from the bathroom to find Damien gone. I heard him in the living room talking, and realized he was on a phone call, which reminded me I should send Lucy a text letting her know my whereabouts.

  After shooting off a quick text, I set about the business of drying my hair. Within ten minutes it was sufficiently dried to the point that I could collect it into a high bun, leaving a few chocolate brown tendrils to trail down in what I hoped was an elegantly messy style. I went light on the makeup, concentrating on using mascara and eyeliner for a smoky eye effect, shiny gloss for my lips and forgetting the rest.

  On the bed was new lacy underwear in the same blue shade as the dress. I would have to get Damien to tell me who had bought these things, as I was certain he wouldn’t have the time and besides, men didn’t buy women clothing. Or did they?

  As expected, the dress fit like a glove. The back was just low enough that as Damien entered the room, I was finishing zipping myself in.

  My eyes lifted to his as he approached, taking in the sight of him in a suit and tie. From the cut of it, it must have been tailored specifically for him. He was tall, dark and delicious. A bolt of lust shot through me at the glorious sight. What was it about a man in a suit?

  His dark hair was messy, yet I knew he had used product to get it to stay that way. I wanted to run my fingers through it, knowing how silky soft it was. My breath hitched as he moved toward me with animal grace, his pale green eyes flashing in unmistakable desire.

  “You’re lovely, Olivia,” he said, stopping before me and letting his eyes wander at will. He then knelt down and peered up. “Let me help you with your shoes.”

  Holding my skirts up, I stepped into each shoe in turn as Damien adjusted the straps to suit me. He rose and took my hand, inspecting me inscrutably. “Something’s missing, I think.”

  From his jacket pocket he pulled out a navy blue box. Before I could register a sense of shock, he snapped it open. There, lying on a bed of navy blue velvet, was a pair of platinum and diamond drop earrings. The Harry Winston logo was etched on the velvet in gold.

  My hands went to my mouth as my eyes jerked to Damien’s. Harry Winston. I recognized the name from watching the Oscars. This was the jewelry that movie stars wore.

  “Damien.” My eyes had turned to wide orbs and a shudder ran through me.

  He extracted an earring and moved closer. “May I?”

  A small sob escaped, and I bit my lip and nodded mutely. He carefully inserted the stud and attached the back. The earring was heavy on my ear. It would be since it was made of platinum and diamonds! He quickly put in the other earring and then, with both hands on my shoulders, he steered me toward the large mirror by the dresser.

  I could barely look, but when I did I was nearly overcome by the sight. Damien stood behind me, his warm hands reassuring and tender on my shoulders. I reached up with my hands and covered his, taking calm, steady breaths. The earrings were striking, a perfect match for the dress. I couldn’t begin to imagine the cost.

  My first natural impulse‌—‌after overcoming my shock‌—‌was to rail at him for such an extravagant gift. Couldn’t he just give me chocolates or something? The bike paled in comparison. But he likes to spend his money on you that sometimes bitchy, sometimes wise inner voice cooed soothingly, as if she was speaking to a baby. Don’t ruin this for him.

  “Damien, they’re exquisite,” I finally sputtered, doing my best to hold it together.

  “Yes, you are,” he said, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “Ready?”

  I nodded. “One minute.” I transferred my phone, lip gloss and driver’s license into the silver clutch.

  I drank in the most charismatic, most sexy, most generous, most thoughtful, most gorgeous man I had ever met. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  We were seated in a dark corner of Coq d’Or, one of many in this dark and somewhat sensuous bar. The large room was dominated by red leather and dark wood with French murals decorating the walls. This was not your ordinary hotel bar.

  As we’d entered I noticed every set of female eyes‌—‌and several male ones‌—‌were drawn as if by magnets to Damien. My own eyes had narrowed, my hand shooting out to capture Damien’s in a tight grip.

  A waiter in white shirt and gray vest and pants immediately appeared as if out of thin air.

  “It’s my pleasure to serve you, Mr. Stone. My name is Oliver. What may I bring you?”

  Damien looked at me inquisitively.

  “A cosmo,” I said, smiling at the waiter.

  “Scotch. Balvenie. Neat.” Damien’s deep voice had a mesmerizing pull on me, though I was by no means the only one who felt it. His mere presence sent a ripple effect through the room, and heads turned as he spoke. It was hard not to notice as people stared. I wondered how Damien could stand it.

  “Very good, Sir. We have an eighteen-year-old Balvenie. Is this suitable?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  The waiter left and my eyes shifted to Damien to find him watching me.

  “Can I help you, Sir?” I purred, smiling seductively. Something about this dress had brought out a different side of me.

  “I may have miscalculated,” he said, a crease appearing between his eyes.

  “Oh?”

  He nodded. “I thought your presence would
…” he shrugged, searching for the right words, “give me a mental boost, but I find I can’t think of anything but getting you out of that dress. And that’s definitely not good, business-wise.”

  “I could go sit at the bar, if that would help?” I offered sweetly, unsure of how to react to the mental boost comment.

  He leaned in as if he had a secret. “Over my dead body. You’re mine, and I want everyone to know.”

  My smart smile fizzled at the rawness of his words. Why was it everything he said came out dripping with sensuality? Sex god, remember? my snarky inner voice answered the unvoiced question. I stomped down the sordid image of his college-age enterprising moneymaking venture‌—‌where he learned his chops, so to speak.

  That was the past, this was the present.

  “The feeling’s mutual, you know,” I said softly. “Every woman in this room wants you. I feel like I might need to kick some female ass tonight if they don’t get their greedy eyes off you.”

  A wide grin lit his face up. “You’d fight. Over me?”

  “Damn straight I would. Like I said, the feeling’s mutual. If I’m yours, then you are definitely mine.”

  He took a deep breath, gazing on me speculatively, a slight smile turning up his lips. The drinks arrived and I took a small sip of my cosmo.

  “So,” I said, eager to change the topic to a lighter one. “Your sister lives here.”

  He nodded. “I grew up here but left to attend college at Wash U. I fell in love with St. Louis and decided that’s where I wanted to stay.”

  “Is it strange being here and not checking in on her?”

  He took a sip of his Scotch and considered. “Not really. I often have business here but it’s difficult to fit Karlie in during working hours. And she has her own life, too. She understands.”

  “Still, that must be odd, being in the same city and unable to see her.” I wanted to say that if I were anywhere near my parents or sister, there was no way I’d allow work to come between us. But I kept my mouth closed.

  He shrugged. “Like I said, she understands.” He had grown noticeably colder with the mention of his family. I wondered how much I could get away with asking before he shut down completely. And did I want to trouble him and risk ruining our evening?

  “You don’t like talking about your family, do you?”

  He blinked. “One day I’ll tell you more than you’ll ever want to know about my family. But tonight’s not the time.”

  What did that mean? More half details from Mr. Cryptic. I took a sip to give my mouth something to do besides harp on a topic that Damien clearly didn’t want to pursue.

  He leaned forward. “They’re here.” He rose fluidly and held out his hand. “Come, Olivia. Leave your drink.”

  I stood and swung my eyes toward the entrance. A tall woman with striking red hair stood speaking to Oliver the waiter. She wore an emerald green dress with three-quarter sleeves that looked like something you’d find on the Red Carpet. She looked up and registered Damien striding toward her, and her face softened immediately. The change was overwhelming.

  Oh hell. Not another one.

  “Damien, how lovely to see you.” She extended her hand in a professional manner, but I didn’t fail to notice how her hand lingered well after the shake. “Have you been here long?”

  “Not long, no. My PA, Sam, tells me you may need to cut our meeting short?”

  Her eyes flashed to me, hardening her features infinitesimally for the briefest moment before settling back on Damien. “I’m afraid that’s true. But the good news is I should be able to meet in St. Louis next week, so whatever we can’t iron out tonight we can finish when it’s convenient for you.”

  I was standing slightly behind Damien during this exchange and he turned to draw me forth. “Diana, this is Olivia St. Clair. Olivia, Diana Houston. Diana’s company is about to turn the logistics and transport world on its ear, if STG has anything to do with it, that is.”

  I extended my hand, taking in her vivid, white teeth and pale, creamy skin.

  “Olivia.” Diana appeared deep in thought. “I believe we’ve spoken by phone. The preliminaries.” She arched a perfectly groomed brow at Damien. “Don’t tell me Sam has been replaced.”

  “Actually, Diana,” Damien said, “Olivia is my girlfriend. She’s not involved in the company.”

  Warmth spread from the center of my chest at his words. Diana gave me an appraising look, and I met her eyes with frosty ones of my own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Diana.”

  “I expected to see Evie with you. She’s been in on all the meetings so far,” Damien said.

  “Ahh. Yes. No doubt you’ll see her next time.” Her eyes drifted over me lazily. “She sends her regrets.”

  Damien nodded and turned to me. “I’m afraid this may be rather dull for you, Olivia. I relied upon Evie, Diana’s assistant, being here to help relieve the monotony of listening to us talk business.”

  Diana put her manicured hand on his arm. “Damien, had I known I would have made sure she came along.” She turned to me, bright as the sun. “We’ll try not to bore you too much, won’t we, Damien?” She laughed, a high-pitched trill that reminded me of the dentist’s chair.

  I gave her a tight smile before looking up at Damien. “It’s all right. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  He smiled down at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well then, shall we?” He gave an eye signal to Oliver who had been standing to the side.

  “This way, Mr. Stone.”

  Damien’s hand found its way to my lower back as we exited the bar and walked to The Drake’s restaurant, Cape Cod.

  “I’ll make this up to you, baby,” he whispered in my ear as Diana walked ahead. This wasn’t exactly as I had envisioned the night going. In my ignorance, I had imagined the CEO he was meeting with to be male, not a slender, six foot, sultry redhead with sea green eyes and provocative red-rouged lips who had curves in all the right places and left no doubt in my mind that she knew how to use them. This was who Damien did business with?

  And if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that Diana Houston wanted to do more than just business with Damien.

  We were seated at a square table, covered with a white linen tablecloth and every type of fine dining accoutrement known to mankind. I was in the middle, with Damien on my left, which meant Diana was on my right. If I was worried about making small talk, I need not have been. The two honchos launched immediately into business, throwing around terminology that I neither knew the definition of nor wanted to.

  When my dinner came it was a welcome relief, and truth be told, I was ravenous. Without checking the time by dragging out my cell phone‌—‌which I had to steel myself from doing as it would have provided a welcome diversion‌—‌I estimated it to be around nine-o’clock. It was unclear how long this meeting would go on, as Damien had kept me in the dark the entire night. There was nothing to be done about it except endure. Damien wanted me with him, so I needed to be supportive and not sit and feel sorry for myself.

  I set to work on my halibut, lingering over every bite to give me something to do to pass the time.

  “Olivia, you’re very quiet tonight,” Damien observed.

  “I don’t want to impose on the masterminding of the world of high finance and market strategies.”

  “So, Olivia,” Diana turned to me and smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How did you and Damien meet?”

  Something about the way she looked at me with thinly veiled disdain made me say what I did next.

  “We met on a street corner.”

  She blinked and her haughty expression slipped a fraction before the eyebrow came up.

  “Literally. He picked me up off the street.”

  Damien laughed, though I knew him well enough now to note his lack of amusement. “Olivia was involved in an accident on her bike. I came along and found her. Luckily, she was all rig
ht, just bruises and scrapes mostly.”

  “My word, that’s…‌something. You are lucky, aren’t you, Olivia?” Diana smiled sweetly at me though I knew it was anything but.

  “Apparently so.”

  “So glad you’re all right, dear.”

  Dear? What was I, fourteen? I chanced a quick peek at Diana and figured her age in the late thirty range. And ring-less, I noticed.

  Dessert arrived, followed by coffee, and still they droned on about facts and figures, profits and margins. Damien laughed at Diana’s jokes. Diana purred and preened for Damien. It was enough to make me want to excuse myself to our room and I would have if Diana weren’t so obviously attempting to get into not only my man’s good business graces but his tailored pants as well.

  A thought popped in my head and, while sipping my coffee, I slowly reached under the tablecloth and groped Damien’s thigh. I could feel his muscles bunch beneath the smooth fabric of his pants as I caressed him. Although he didn’t miss a beat of the conversation he was having with Diana, I took great pride in knowing that he was at least attuned to my presence. From the tone of their conversation, the meeting was winding up.

  My hand kept up a steady rhythm, dipping in to his inner thigh without Diana being any the wiser. Unfortunately I couldn’t reach the part of him I really wanted to touch without giving away my secret. I took another sip of my quickly cooling coffee and almost spit it out at her next words.

  “Without being too presumptuous, I’ll call Evie and have her set up a time for next week. I think we can get this hammered out, just the two of us. Shall we say Tuesday evening at the Chase Park Plaza?”

  My fingers tightened on his thigh, transforming into hard digits with claws extended. Without regard for decorum, I leaned across the table toward him, allowing my hand to slide up until it cupped his crotch. He looked at me, very startled, semi-aroused, and slightly displeased. I squeezed.

  “Darling, don’t forget the plans we have on Tuesday,” I said, leaning into him as if to whisper in his ear but saying it loudly enough for Diana to hear.