London Dynasty (The Dynasties Book 1)

by Geneva Lee

  “Any man would like to fuck his wife, especially if she were as beautiful as you are.”

  My eyes flashed and found the ground as heat crept over my cheeks.

  “Don’t act coy,” he advised. “You must know you’re beautiful. So the answer to your question is no. I want to sleep with you. I plan to sleep with you and so much more.”

  “I don’t understand,” I admitted, finally daring to look up at him. This whole night was supposed to be about sealing the deal, but I felt more like I was running in circles. Spencer had sent me spinning—spiraling into a heady state of agitation. My skin felt too tight. It prickled with hot awareness the longer I stayed in his presence.

  “Some men get off on forcing women.” He picked an invisible bit of lint off his sleeve before turning his dark eyes on me. “I do not. Quite the opposite, actually. I’d like to fuck you, Kerrigan, but only when you beg me for it.”

  I opened my mouth to respond but no words came out. Instead, I swallowed. Spencer rose to his feet and took two steps toward me. There was nothing predatory in his approach. Instead, he moved toward me with a casual ease that said he knew that I wanted him, too. His hands slid into his pockets and he tilted his head, an amused smile curving across his handsome face.

  I found myself frozen to the spot, wishing that he would act. I’d known my virginity was a thing of the past when I’d agreed to the arrangement with Tod Belmond. It’s why I had lied about it in the first place. I’d expected Spencer to simply take it based on what I’d been told about the situation. I’d prepared myself for that. Now it was like he expected me to crawl onto a silver platter and spread my legs.

  Spencer finally spoke, his voice low as though he didn’t want to be overheard. “Do you know why I have no interest in forcing you?” He walked around me like he was surveying an object in an art gallery. He paused behind me and I felt one finger trace down my bare shoulder.

  “No,” I whispered.

  He stepped closer, leaving only a small gap between us. His breath was warm on my neck and every inch of my body was aware of him even though the only place we touched was where the pad of his finger still rested on my shoulder. “Ask me to touch you, Kerrigan. Let me show you.”

  “Here?” I burst out. “Shouldn’t we go to a bedroom or…”

  “I’m not sleeping with you tonight,” he stopped me. “I only want to make a point.”

  “Which is?” I breathed.

  He leaned closer and whispered in my ear. “That I won’t ever need to force myself on you, because you’re going to give yourself to me in every possible way...freely...wantonly. You are going to measure your life by the moments of pleasure I give you. Now ask me to touch you.”

  It was part of the arrangement. I’d known that. I hadn’t expected to actually want him. Somehow it made it worse and better at the same time. Spencer didn’t expect me to sleep with him tonight, which meant my panic attack had been unwarranted. I was torn between feeling stupid, overwhelmed, and hot. God, I felt hot like my body was on fire. Each word he spoke seemed to add fuel to the inferno burning inside me.

  “Touch me,” I said. Relief washed over me. I was still burning but now that I’d given him permission, he would extinguish me. But nothing happened.

  “You need to ask me,” he repeated, a smile coloring his voice. “Nicely.”

  Was he fucking serious? I spun toward him, tripping on my heels and careening into him. He was closer than I expected, my sense of spatial relation completely frazzled by his mere presence. I righted myself quickly and glared at him. “Do you want consent or a fucking engraved invitation?”

  “I told you that I like begging.” He stepped back, widening the gap between us, and I fought the urge to go after him.

  “I’m not going to beg.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Not tonight.” He smirked at my aghast expression. “But you could ask nicely. It’s the polite thing to do when you’re getting to know someone.”

  “Or maybe you’re all talk,” I hedged. His grin vanished and I felt a surge of triumph.

  “Like I said, fucking you is not a requirement for this marriage,” he said coldly. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Kerrigan. I’m certain our parents will continue to arrange as many of these damned gatherings as they can.”

  I balked, watching as he made his way toward the door of the solarium. He wasn’t really going to leave. Was he? Was that it? Was it possible that I could get away with playing pretend until Kerrigan came home and fulfilled her end of the bargain? But the triumph I’d felt moments before faded. I’d worked myself up over tonight. I’d sold my virginity for ten million pounds to a man I’d never met. I hadn’t expected to find myself wishing something had happened between us. I hadn’t expected to want him. This arrangement had an expiration date. Still, there was no way I was going to beg.

  But something else was weighing on my mind. If he was leaving, then something must have happened between him and Tod Belmond. “What did you say to my father? He seemed upset by you asking to hold off on the announcement.”

  Spencer paused at the door and turned to me with cold, hard eyes. There was no smile on his face and his confidence now sent an icy chill down my spine. “I told him that I’d like to get to know you better before I agree to marry you. That’s what I told your father. He’s given us two weeks, but then both our families will expect to make this public.”

  “You want to get to know me?” I asked, startled by the idea that Spencer had expectations that felt too much like romance.

  “Yes, I’d like to get to know you. I’d like to know what’s going on in your head when you watch the room with those wary eyes. And I’d like to fuck you,” he added darkly. “Is that a problem?”

  I swallowed and shook my head.

  “Good. Now, that we’ve settled that. I have a request to make of you,” he said. “Tonight, when your hand is between your legs and you’re touching yourself, remember that it could have been me.”

  “You’re certain of yourself, aren’t you?” I bit out, hoping he didn’t hear the quiver in my voice.

  “Yes,” he answered to my surprise. “You have so many questions. I have one of my own.”

  “What?”

  “How wet are you right now? I bet you’re drenched.”

  My mouth fell open, but I closed it quickly. “I’m not going to beg.”

  “We’ll see,” he said with a dismissive laugh before returning to the house, leaving me behind with regret and a soaked pair of knickers.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When I stepped out of the solarium, I was coated in a thin sheen of sweat that had nothing to do with the sultry air. Spencer had gotten under my skin and lit a fire. It simmered inside me and I had no idea how to douse the smoldering embers. I shouldn’t want him. He’d been nothing but an asshole, bullying me one second and toying with my feelings the next. Even if he claimed he wouldn’t take me against my will, there was something sinister about his expectations. He knew I was attracted to him and I suspected if I’d offered myself to him tonight, he would have taken me with little to no concern for getting to know me, just like his brother had done at the restaurant yesterday afternoon.

  Was that what privilege bought you? A free pass to claim whatever and whoever you wished? I should hate that he acted like he did, instead I found myself turned on. I wanted to be disgusted, not aroused by the way he wielded his power. Instead, I was intrigued and left wondering what his next move would be.

  “Already sneaking off, dirty girl?” A familiar voice drawled and I whipped around to find Spencer’s face staring back at me. “I suppose we can expect the happy announcement any moment. Shall I start calling you sis?”

  “Holden.” He looked exactly like Spencer save for a few small differences. His bowtie was already undone and his collar loosened. He lounged against the wall with a drink in his hand. There was nothing of the polished, poised politician to him. His hair was combed but untidy, stubble dusted his jawli
ne. He was all rough edges where Spencer was smooth.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this evening since we shared that special moment yesterday,” he said with a lowered voice. “Tell me, have you been thinking about me?”

  “I don’t have time for this.” I pushed past him.

  “So, are you engaged to my brother?” His question stopped me. “I promise not to spoil the big announcement.”

  I squared my shoulders, lifted my head, and reached for the most disinterested look I could muster. “No. We’re taking some time to get to know one another.”

  Holden smirked, not bothering to hide the wicked gleam in his eyes over the calculated coldness Spencer had used to keep control of the situation. How could they be so alike and so different? My mind wandered to thoughts of how else they might be different.

  “Are you blushing?” he asked, pushing away from the wall.

  “No,” I said quickly. “I’m just annoyed.”

  “At me?” he guessed. “Or my brother?”

  “Both of you. I’m a woman. I can multitask,” I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I see Spencer has riled you up.” He took a swig of his drink, then held it out to me.

  I started to refuse, then reconsidered and took it. I downed the rest of it in a single gulp.

  “Don’t be offended by Spencer putting a pin in things. It’s not you. It’s a power play. Grandfather is absolutely salivating at the idea of your father’s bank account.”

  “Why wouldn’t that offend me?” I snapped back. “Everyone is too busy masturbating to each other’s bank balances and titles to remember I’m a person!”

  I was beginning to understand exactly why Kerrigan Belmond had run from this life. In a world that placed so much value on wealth and possession, what woman would want to be simply another object collected and kept in a glass case?

  Holden’s eyes widened, and I braced myself for another dismissive remark. Instead, he started laughing. “Spencer doesn’t deserve you. He certainly won’t know what to do with you. I’m going to have to have a talk with my dear brother.”

  “Am I an actual participant in this conversation or may I leave?” I rolled my eyes.

  “Oh, don’t leave.” His hand lashed out and caught mine. Electricity shot through me where our skin made contact and I found myself unable to pull away. “I’m rather enjoying your company.”

  “That would make one of us.” I hoped he didn’t hear the slight tremor in my voice or spot how my hands shook.

  He didn’t release his grip on me. Holden stepped closer and lowered his voice to a whisper, “But yesterday, you enjoyed my company.”

  “I wouldn’t call it enjoyable being trapped in the loo while you screwed some random waitress.” I glared at him.

  “You’re not a very good liar.” He took another step closer, trapping our clasped hands between our bodies. “Tell me what you did in there. Listen? Did you bite your lip to keep quiet?” He pressed his groin against the back of my hand and I felt the hard proof that he was enjoying himself now. “Did you imagine what this looked like? How it would feel to be the one pinned against the wall?”

  “No,” I said in a low voice, not trusting myself to say more.

  He leaned closer until he was so close that any movement at all would bring my lips to his. I held entirely still, my breath caught in my throat. “Was that because you were too busy touching yourself?”

  “Fuck you,” I breathed, catching his heady scent and feeling dizzy.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He lifted my hand, and kissing it, winked at me. “Until next time, dirty girl.”

  He left me there with those words—an echo of the ones he put in my head yesterday—bouncing around in my pheromone-soaked brain. I was still processing my separate encounters with the Byrd brothers when Iris appeared.

  “There you are!” she cried. “I’ve been looking...darling, what’s wrong?”

  I closed my eyes, gathering all my strength before meeting her concerned expression. “Nothing. Father’s angry with me about the announcement being postponed.”

  “That’s not your fault. I’ll speak with him.”

  “Don’t,” I said quickly. The last thing I wanted was to cause problems for her. I just needed to get my head on straight and remember what was at stake. I was nothing more than a paid performer. I’d been given my role and agreed to the terms. If I expected Tod Belmond to fulfill his end of the bargain, I had to uphold mine. “I just need to find Spencer. Maybe I can talk to him.”

  I needed to get this on track. Everything depended on it.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Iris said, looking pleased to be of help as she delivered what she assumed was an innocent request. “Caroline insists you two dance together. She went to find Spencer and I promised I would get you.”

  “He says he wants to get to know me, but he acts like I’m just a pawn. His brother told me he’s trying to piss off his grandfather, ” I confided my misery to Iris.

  “Be careful around Holden Byrd,” she advised me. “As for feeling like a pawn? Do you remember why I chose this gown?”

  “Because I’m a queen?” I smiled sheepishly at the reminder. “I’m not sure that it matters if no one else sees me that way.”

  Iris turned a blinding smile on me. “Let them underestimate you, but never forget the power you hold. If they think you’re a pawn, you have the upper hand. A queen moves freely. Don’t forget that.”

  I nodded as we stepped into the drawing-room, and, as if to prove her point, the crowd parted before us, opening a path for me to pass. As we reached the far end, Spencer stepped into view. Iris faded from my side as he extended his hand.

  “Shall we dance, Kerrigan?”

  I offered him a demure smile, remembering what Iris had said. I took his hand and told him exactly what he wanted to hear, “Whatever you wish, Spencer.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Every head turned to watch us as we stepped onto the dance floor. Sparrow Court’s drawing-room had been converted into a ballroom since we arrived. A man in a tuxedo took a seat behind the grand piano in the corner of the room and a moment later, the first notes of Chopin’s Nocturne No. 2 filled the air. Spencer placed his hand on my waist and began the first steps of a waltz.

  “Everyone is looking at us,” I murmured, keenly aware of the fact that the room had stopped to watch as we spun slowly to the languid melody.

  “Everyone is looking at you,” he said. “And I can’t blame them.”

  I arched an eyebrow, searching for a clue as to his sudden, mercurial shift in attitude.

  “I apologize for earlier,” he continued. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

  “And to what do I owe this change of heart?” I asked. With each step we took, I became more aware of the spots where our bodies touched: his hand on my waist, the other clasped with mine, the strong shoulder I gripped as I allowed him to lead me in the steps of the waltz.

  “I can’t simply apologize?”

  “You don’t strike me as the type to be sorry for anything,” I answered honestly, wondering if he would be offended. Instead, he smiled. It was the first time I’d seen a genuine smile on his face. The shadows that seemed to cloud his features lifted for a moment, allowing me my first glimpse at the man underneath.

  “It’s just that I didn’t expect you to be…”

  “Yes?” I prompted as we whirled past a group of onlookers who whispered as we passed.

  “I didn’t expect you to be a virgin,” he admitted.

  I stiffened in his arms, my eyes fluttering away from his. It wasn’t as though I had no experience with men, and I wasn’t certain why it seemed to matter so much. When it came down to it, I think I was more bothered by the fact that it seemed obvious to everyone. “Do I have a tattoo of virgin stamped on my back somewhere?”

  “It was a hunch, which you just confirmed,” he admitted.

  Of course, I had. There was something about
Spencer that seemed to find its way under my skin. He was an itch I couldn’t scratch, and the longer he lingered, the deeper the itch burrowed into parts of me I wasn’t sure were reachable.

  “I’m actually quite turned on by it,” he said.

  “Really?” I craned my face back to his, unable to hide how his words made me cringe. “I don’t really see why it matters. It’s not a defining fact of my existence. Just something that is true for the moment—like being a certain age or having braces.”

  Spencer’s perfect lips twitched, restraining another smile, but it danced in his eyes. “I suppose it’s leftover from some primal urge to possess and protect the female. You’ll have to forgive the primitive bits lurking in my DNA.”

  “I guess I don’t understand what men find so fascinating about virgins. All I know is that I won’t enjoy my first time, it will hurt, and …” I trailed off before I could confess the truth: I was dreading it. I’d never met a man who made me want to face that rite of passage. Eliza had told me about her first time once. She’d laughed about it, but it sounded terrible to me.

  “Is that what you think?” He pulled me a little closer, dipping his head so that his lips were near my ear. “I can only speak for myself, but knowing that no other man has penetrated you—been inside you—is consuming my every thought. Knowing that you saved the most intimate parts of yourself for me makes me so hard. That’s why you waited, isn’t it?”

  His breath tickled across my ear lobe, sending a jolt of awareness through me. My eyes fluttered closed, and I soaked up the way he made me feel with his strong body pressed against mine, his hand holding me protectively. We continued to waltz, the music shifting to a rhythmic pulse in the background. I was dimly aware of the eyes on us even with my own closed. Each step we took, each turn we made, each word we exchanged was part of some esoteric ritual. We were binding ourselves to each other for all of London society to see, but beneath the ceremony of the moment, something else was stirring inside me.