London Dynasty (The Dynasties Book 1)

by Geneva Lee

  Spencer spoke as if I’d made a conscious effort to wait for him—the man destined to marry Kerrigan Belmond for years. He had no idea that I’d never thought of him before this week, so how could he be right? Because as his question lingered in my thoughts, I kept returning to the same inexplicable answer: “Yes.”

  There was a slight vibration in his chest as though the single word had roused more of that primal beast inside him. He managed to keep it locked away, but I sensed it there, hiding behind the sophisticated demeanor and expensive tuxedo. I shivered as I considered what it would be like to unlock Spencer’s cage and set him free.

  “I won’t make you wait much longer,” he promised. He straightened and I missed the heat of his breath on my flesh and the closeness of his body. The music began to fade, and our pace slowed. “Kerrigan?”

  My eyes snapped open to meet his green ones. They pierced through me, already penetrating me in ways I’d never experienced before.

  “Don’t be scared,” he murmured, still holding me in his arms. “Your pleasure is my pleasure, and I promise you’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

  I lost count of the times my fingers found themselves between my legs that night. Memories of the sensations Spencer had introduced me to kept me in a state of low, insatiable need. He’d told me that I would think of him and whether that was merely an idea he planted in my mind or the unavoidable truth, I thought of nothing else until I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open. I awoke the next morning, covered in sweat with the naked lower half of my body twisted in the sheets. I’d dreamed of him—dreamed of his mouth and hands on me. I felt a thrilling dread and ravenous ache as he moved to claim me. But every time his body covered mine, the dream shifted leaving me unsatisfied.

  Sitting up, I grabbed my mobile and checked the time, surprised to see that it was so early in the morning. Dawn streamed through the windows, and I realized that I’d forgotten to draw them last night when I went to bed. I’d been too turned on to think of anything else but relief.

  Despite the early hour, I found myself too high-strung to fall back asleep, so I wandered into the attached bath. After washing off a few lingering remnants of make-up I’d been too distracted to see to last night, I knotted my hair up and turned on the shower. The water felt good on my skin as I reached for a bar of soap and lathered it in my hand. Sliding my hand between my legs, I washed away the wet heat that had built there overnight and did my best to ignore the thrum of longing that remained. I was beginning to understand that there was only one way to deal with the way Spencer had gotten under my skin. The itch I’d felt—the one too deep to reach—could only be relieved by one thing. Something he promised to give me even as he made me wait.

  I closed my eyes and let the water wash over me as I processed the subtle shift that had taken place overnight. When I’d agreed to take Kerrigan’s place, I had decided I was willing to sleep with Spencer. It was a part of the arrangement I hadn’t lingered over. It made me feel dirty like I’d sold my soul for the money Tod Belmond had dangled over me. But last night, that had changed.

  I wanted to sleep with Spencer. Every part of me yearned to be in his bed. I longed for him to make good on the dirty promises he had made.

  By the time I stepped out of the shower and dried off, my arousal had ticked up again, reminding me that I never managed to quench the desire I felt.

  I explored the closet, somewhat relieved to have the space to myself without Giles or Iris picking out options and overseeing every choice. I’d barely paused to look at Kerrigan’s intimates yesterday. Now I opened every drawer and reveled in the delicate lace and skimpy garments I discovered. While Kerrigan didn’t own many white gowns, she had a surprising array of white lace undergarments. I found myself drawn to them, imagining myself stretched across Spencer’s bed in nothing else but the white lingerie, a symbol of the final offering of my innocence.

  I chose a matching set in a dainty white mesh that had roses embroidered across the cup of the bra and along the waistband of the thong-style knickers. Perhaps, Kerrigan had picked her outfits starting with her shoes, but I found myself inclined to start here. Iris had told me that what a woman wore was her armor. It seemed to me that what I wore beneath was mine.

  I did, however, begin choosing the rest of my ensemble with my shoes. Opting for a pair of canary-yellow Louboutins that laced at the ankle, I placed them on the stool and went from there. It was surprisingly easy to employ her method. The shoes were a statement that had to be matched but not overwhelmed. A few minutes later, I’d decided on a pair of wide-legged silk pants in a bold floral print that had pops of yellow and a cropped silk tank in a deep, complementary blue. The high waist of the pants revealed only a sliver of skin and paired with the shoes were just the right length.

  Opening Kerrigan’s jewelry drawer, I paused, momentarily struck that every item in it was real. Real gold. Real silver. Real diamonds. I’d been entrusted with all of it.

  “In a year, you can have real jewelry, too,” I reminded myself. It was mind-boggling to consider I might be glimpsing my future.

  I opted for a simple pair of gold hoops and a necklace with a golden lock pendant. As I exited, I heard a faint knock.

  “Come in,” I called, expecting Giles.

  Iris peeked inside and her eyes widened. “You’re already dressed!”

  “I woke up early and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

  “Something weighing on your mind?” she asked as she stepped inside, leaving the door cracked behind her. “Or rather, someone?”

  A smile escaped me, and she lit up.

  “I knew it! When you two were dancing, I half expected something to catch fire.” She plopped onto my sofa and patted the cushion. “I want details.” I blushed, and she laughed. “Okay, you can keep some of the details to yourself but tell me what you can.”

  I walked her through the evening, rearranging small bits of the story so as not to give anything away.

  “So Holden let you think he was Spencer?” she repeated after I finished.

  “Well, in a way,” I said. That had been the trickiest part to explain. I’d done my best to push Holden away from my thoughts. He had tried to creep into my fantasies but I’d shut the door every time. Spencer was the man I was meant for, and the man who wanted me as well. I suspected with Holden I’d be nothing but an afternoon snack.

  “He sounds like trouble,” she said.

  I nodded. I had no doubt that was true, which was the number one reason I needed to steer clear of him. There was enough for me to keep straight without adding a variable to the mix.

  Before I could tell her that, the door opened wider and Giles stepped through, carrying a towering arrangement of flowers half as tall as he was and looking mildly surprised to find us sitting there.

  “These were just delivered,” he informed me, placing them on the coffee table in front of us.

  I paused for a moment to appreciate the large white roses, already in full bloom, and complemented by sprays of Queen Anne’s Lace. Then, I spotted a small gold envelope tucked into the bouquet. I plucked it out and tore open the flap.

  “What does it say?” Iris asked in a giddy voice.

  I snorted a laugh as I read it. Apparently, the flowers were the romantic gesture. The note was to the point, instead. “He wants to have dinner this evening.”

  “Shall I send back your response?” Giles asked.

  I realized then that I had no way to contact Spencer. He wasn’t saved in my mobile phone yet. I didn’t have his email address. Did that mean he didn’t have mine either? Is that why he’d sent the flowers? The whole thing felt like an archaic courting ritual, as though I’d stepped into a Jane Austen novel. It seemed at odds with the erotic charge I felt toward Spencer Byrd, and somehow, completely normal. As if that was just the way things were in a powerful London dynasty.

  I had a lot to learn about my new life, but for now, I would continue to let Spencer take the lead. “Tell him I look forward to it.
”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I allowed Giles and Iris to pick out my dinner dress after it became clear to me that neither of them was going to give up until I acquiesced. After thirty minutes of listening to them squabble, I had a headache. Ducking out of the room, I decided it was time to explore my new home. I’d been on the official tour with Giles, but there was plenty I hadn’t seen. I’d always found I needed to get to know a place on my own. Most of the employees I encountered were too busy to do more than nod quickly as they passed, off to whatever task they were in the midst of. But I couldn’t help noticing that none of them met my eyes.

  The entire house was as picture-perfect as Kerrigan’s bedroom. The kitchen was updated and immaculate with high-end appliances and pristine white cabinetry. The sofa and chairs in the drawing-room looked like they had never been sat upon. Everywhere I turned a magazine-worthy spread waited for me, but underneath the glossy finishes and expensive furniture there was a coldness that left me feeling ill at ease. It was all too perfect, as though it had been contrived to create an impression and not a home.

  I paused in the sitting room on the first floor and studied a framed photograph of a little girl and a woman, both of whom looked so similar my breath caught.

  “That’s Marissa and Kerrigan,” Tod called, and I turned to find him standing in the doorway.

  “Marissa?” I already knew who she was. It was glaringly obvious, but I found myself wanting to hear what Tod had to say about her.

  “My first wife.” He stepped into the room, offering an uncomfortable smile. “Kerrigan’s mother.”

  “She’s very beautiful.” My heart pounded as I considered the possibility of meeting her. I’d never known my own mother. I’d never known either of my parents. I didn’t have a single memory of either of them. It wasn’t rational to want to meet her simply because she looked so much like my mother must have, but I was beginning to understand that love and sentiment didn’t operate according to reason.

  “She was,” he said meaningfully. “She died a few years ago.”

  I gasped, still staring at the photograph. The woman in the picture was so full of life, her arms wrapped around her daughter as both beamed at the camera. There was no sign of illness. “What happened?”

  “A boating accident. She drowned. Thankfully, Kerrigan survived.”

  “Kerrigan was there?” I repeated. I’d born the loss of my own parents as an orphan who’d never known anything else. I’d ached to know them, building impossible narratives of who they had been and what they were like. I couldn’t imagine the pain that came with having one’s mother snatched away. I wondered if it was deeper or the same. I wondered if one day I might be able to ask Kerrigan about it or comfort her.

  I put the picture back on the mantle, feeling silly.

  “She was a better swimmer than her mother. The Coastguard found her clinging to some of the wreckage. She was in the hospital for weeks with hypothermia, and after that…” He trailed away, shaking his head. “I’m sorry this is too depressing a story for a Sunday afternoon. I came to talk with you about Spencer.”

  “I’m having dinner with him tonight.” I was actually relieved to shift the conversation to one of a business nature. Some gut instinct told me to keep Tod at a distance. It was best if there were clear boundaries between myself and Kerrigan’s father, even if I didn’t understand why.

  “I heard. Good job. I was concerned after he delayed the engagement yesterday evening,” he admitted. “I apologize if I was harsh on you.”

  “You were quite clear on the expectations,” I said coolly. “I’ll do my best to see that his interest remains piqued.”

  “Not just his interest.” Tod leveled a hard look at me. “The sooner he puts a ring on your finger, the better.”

  “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time,” I said with a shrug. I didn’t need to tell Tod about Spencer’s desire to get to know one another or that I’d managed to capture his full attention by admitting to him that I was a virgin. Tod didn’t need to know that. It was the part of our indecent arrangement that I felt we both preferred to keep him in the dark regarding. I might not be his daughter, but I looked enough like her to pass as her. I couldn’t imagine he wanted to think about me in bed with Spencer anymore than he wanted to imagine Kerrigan there.

  “We’ll see,” he said, his eyes unreadable. “Let me know how dinner goes.” Then, he turned and left me to plan my attack.

  I wasn’t exactly Sun Tzu, but when Giles called up that evening to tell me Spencer had arrived, I felt like I’d spent the day preparing to go into battle. Tonight my armor consisted of a fitted red dress with a caged bodice that functioned a bit like a bustier. Two cups barely contained my breasts, and the neckline—if it could be called that—plunged between them. My hips looked especially curvy in the tight skirt. It might have been too sexy if it weren’t for its length, the skirt extended to my knees, and the accessories that Giles had chosen. A simple choker of diamonds circled my neck complemented by diamond teardrop earrings. I carried a classic Chanel clutch that matched my black heels, which featured a classic, but exaggerated silhouette that made my legs look especially long.

  I left my hair down after it was curled and opted for little more than a few coats of mascara and red lipstick. The effect was simple but sexy.

  I’d been a little concerned about the message that wearing red sent, particularly after my intimate discussions with Spencer yesterday, but as soon as I started down the staircase I knew I’d made the right choice.

  Spencer stood in the entry, discussing something quietly with Tod, but he turned when he heard me. Whatever he was saying died on his lips as he drank me in. He met me at the foot of the stairs, completely abandoning Tod, who looked pleased by the snub rather than offended.

  “You are a goddess,” Spencer murmured in a low voice meant only for me.

  “Which one?” I teased.

  “I’m still trying to decide.” He grinned. “I’ll tell you when I figure it out.” He looked over his shoulder. “I will take good care of your daughter, sir.”

  Tod tipped his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kerrigan.”

  “Dad,” I forced the term of endearment out, earning me a flash of shock from Tod who quickly covered it. He left us then and I felt a flutter of excitement to find myself alone with Spencer.

  Would tonight be the night? I’d done my best to avoid worrying about whether I would go to bed with Spencer this evening. Now that he was standing before me, I could think of nothing else.

  “I have something for you.” Spencer reached into his pocket and blood pounded in my ears as I waited. But the box he retrieved was too long to be a ring box. Apparently, he’d meant it when he said he wanted to get to know each other before we got engaged. He flipped open the lid to reveal a dazzling bracelet made up of two strands of diamonds and an intricate clasp like none I’d ever seen before. “May I?”

  I didn’t trust myself to speak so I merely held out my hand.

  “There’s a little trick to this,” he said. “I’ll show you later.” He wrapped it around my wrist and fastened it.

  I admired it for a moment. “Thank you.”

  “I know you’re expecting a ring, but—”

  “I don’t expect anything, Spencer.” The truth slipped out of me. My words. Not the ones I should use as Kerrigan. I’d never expected anything in my life. It made things easier.

  “That changes now,” he said darkly and I looked up, startled, by the bleak current in his voice. “If you’re to be my wife, you should expect to be treated well, to have expensive things, to have strangers admire you.”

  “And what should I expect from you?” I asked, trying to puzzle out his suddenly stormy mood.

  But his answer was as cryptic as the clouds in his eyes. “Nothing and everything.”

  Spencer extended an arm and I took it, unable to tear my eyes from how the diamonds glittered with every movement. Outside, I discovered just how import
ant appearances were to him. A cherry red McLaren sports car was parked in front of the house. Before I could stop myself, I giggled.

  “Is something funny?” he asked as he led me toward it.

  I pointed to the car and back to my dress. “We match.”

  “So you do,” he said slowly. He studied me for a second before catching his lower lip in his teeth and looking away.

  I swallowed at the lingering hunger I’d glimpsed before he turned away. There was no denying the white-hot intensity blazing in his eyes. He’d been thinking about my dress and his car. I had no idea what wicked thoughts my innocent observation had produced, but the effect they’d had on him had, in turn, tightened my core and dampened my knickers.

  “Where are we going to dinner?” I asked, desperate to break up the tension stretching between us.

  “Dinner. Right.” He opened my car door and helped me inside. “We better go before I lay you across the hood of the car and see how well you match.”

  My mouth fell open.

  “Even your damn lips match,” he muttered gruffly. “I bet your cheeks would, too...Christ, we need to go.”

  He slammed my door and circled to the driver’s side, getting in without a word.

  I was beginning to see what Iris meant when she said what I wore was armor. Not only did it strengthen me, but it also had quite the effect on my intended, it seemed.

  “Dinner,” he said as he hit the ignition button like he was going to walk himself through step-by-step. Whatever internal struggle he was dealing with wasn’t giving him any slack.

  That’s why I couldn’t help myself when I added, “And after—dessert.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was a mistake to bring up what might happen after dinner, given the enclosed space we now found ourselves in. I couldn’t help but notice how tightly Spencer gripped the steering wheel. Five minutes into our drive, I realized that if I didn’t distract him, this evening would turn into another disaster. I turned my attention to the window as we merged onto the A502 and watched as the world whizzed past with dizzying speed. I had no idea how fast we were going, but Spencer’s driving was a mix of recklessness and anger like he was pissed at the road for some unspeakable sin.