by Leigh James
"Exactly." Lucas patted my hand. "It's because you're better than her and deep down, she knows it. Same thing with my sister. Serena doesn't want to see me inherit that money because she thinks I've led a charmed life and that I don't deserve any more than I've got. She doesn't understand why I work so hard when I already have so much."
"Why do you work so hard when you already have so much?" I blurted the question out and then I sat there, cheeks reddening, as Lucas gave me a long look.
"You're doing it again. Analyzing."
I nodded at him meekly, worried I'd gone too far.
"Well doctor, let me lay it all out for you." He gave me another long look, but there was no anger in his eyes, just a glimmer of something I couldn't quite put my finger on. "I work all the time because business is what I'm good at. When I started out, I was surprised at how easily it came to me—seeing a company, assessing it, telling early on if it was a good investment. When something comes naturally to you like that, it… feels good. And it's a lot less messy than other things that could occupy my time."
"Like people?" I asked. I couldn't help myself.
"Exactly. Like people. Like my sister." Lucas didn't deny it and he didn't miss a beat. "I don't want to see her inherit all of the trust because she's never worked—she's completely out of touch with the realities of the world. She'll spend the money on outfits and trips to Dubai. Give money to her sorority so they'll name a wing after her. That's what she thinks is important in life."
I wanted to ask more about just him, to dig deeper into why he liked to hide in his downtown office and rule his empire from behind his desktop. But he'd switched gears on me and I had to keep up. "But what's wrong with that?" I asked, focusing on Serena. "I'm not trying to disagree, but it's not like she's spending the money on something terrible, something that's going to hurt someone."
"You're right." He shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with it, per se. But my mother would have wanted some of that money to help people. She left the discretion to us, to donate as we saw fit. But my sister isn't interested in that. She'll give money to her pet projects and her alma maters, but she won't do any actual good with it, which is in direct opposition to my mother's wishes."
"Why won't Serena honor her wishes?"
He scrubbed a hand across his face. "Because she thinks poor people are disgusting, lazy abominations."
"Oh," I mumbled.
"My sister puts the 'ass' in 'class'."
"Ha ha." But my stomach was sinking.
Lucas looked out the window. "My mother wasn't like that. She believed that we had a responsibility to take care of those less fortunate. I believe that, too. Serena simply thinks that poor people or homeless people need to get jobs. She's incapable of seeing the larger picture—in other words, she lacks imagination. She couldn't dream of a scenario where a person might be forced to make choices that are less than ideal."
I shivered, his words hitting home. I could only imagine what Serena would think of me if she knew the truth.
"I know what you're thinking," Lucas said, his voice low.
I bristled. He was starting to get on my nerves with all of his goodwill and insight. That Globe article never mentioned his philanthropic side, which I found disarmingly attractive. "Since when did a reclusive, anti-relationship billionaire like you get so intuitive?" I preferred to keep my own dysfunction, my own problems, below the radar. So I could pretend they didn't exist, like a normal person.
"I don't really like to be around people, but understanding them is part of my business." He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his dress shirt, relaxing against the leather seat. "But back to my sister—talking about her makes me see it clearly. I think we should mess with her. Exploit her weaknesses to our advantage."
Now he sounded like the combative CEO I'd come to expect. "How can we do that? And isn't it dangerous? Don't you need her on your side right now, or at least, not against you?"
"I can accomplish that in part by keeping her off-balance. Serena likes things orderly and controlled. She's not going to get that from us. I'm going to call Elena in the morning."
"Elena? For what?"
He smiled, flashing that dimple. "I'm going to hire some of your coworkers to come out to Vegas."
"Really?" I asked, oddly touched. I hadn't let myself think about it, but I'd been sort of dreading being completely alone at the wedding.
"Really. It'll keep things interesting, and it'll be nice to have some guests on your side of the aisle. And some bridesmaids. But they're going to have to keep up a united front pretending, so that no one knows who they—and more importantly, you—really are. Do you think they can do that?"
I nodded. "They're professional pretenders. That's what they do." I thought of several of the girls I worked with who were a little wild. They could and would pretend to be friends of mine, but that rowdy streak couldn't be disguised easily. "That's really nice of you. But don't you think your sister's going to freak out? With all the, er, riff-raff hanging around?"
A small smile played on his lips. "It wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen to her. But I know what is, and I'm going to do that, too."
"You're full of surprises," I said. "Care to let me in on that last one?"
"First, I'm going to see if I can pull it off. Then I will surprise and delight you with my ruthless ingenuity." His eyes glittered in the semidarkness, and I admired the handsome, rugged planes of his face. I had no doubt in his ability to accomplish what he set out to do.
Not a one.
LUCAS
"Well, good night." Blake and I were in the hallway of my penthouse, getting ready to go our separate ways.
"Are you heading back to the office?" she asked.
I shook my head. "I'm off tonight. And tomorrow, actually. We have some things that we need to attend to."
"Oh? Like what?" She tilted her head up at me in a way that was both attractive and annoying. Attractive because she was beautiful, and annoying because it was the perfect angle for me to kiss her. I wondered if she was attempting to prove something to me again, like when her hand had skimmed over my belt earlier.
If she was trying to get under my skin or make me want her, she didn't have to work so hard. But this was a business arrangement that I wouldn't allow to fail, and I wasn't going to complicate it by letting things get physical between us. Because if I did that—if I did her—I would push her away afterward. I was a one-and-done sort of fellow. And I didn't know if she had the emotional wherewithal to deal with that, then live with me and pretend everything was great for a whole year afterward.
I took a step back from her. Nope. No way. No how. I didn't do self-destruct. I wanted this to work, and I wasn't about to let my dick get in the way.
Still, Blake was looking up at me expectantly, with her shiny blond hair and her perfect pink lips, which were slightly parted. She knew what she was doing—tempting me.
"Why're you looking at me like that?" I finally asked.
She tossed her hair and licked her lips. "Like what?"
Yeah, right. "You're giving me a fuck-me look again. Why?"
Blake promptly closed her mouth and stood up straight. "Sorry. I was trying to see if you wanted to, you know. Just get it out of the way."
"I told you I'm not interested." The lie sounded harsh as it hung in the air between us.
A flicker of hurt might have passed over her features, but it was gone before I could be certain. "Then I'll stop trying to make it easy for you." She smiled at me as though my rejection had rolled right off her back.
I took a step toward her, inhaling her scent. It was her hair; it smelled fantastic. I wanted nothing more than to wind my hands through it, throw her over my shoulder, carry her to my giant bed, and bury myself inside of her. Explore her body. See her breasts freed from the tight bondages of her prim lace dress. Run my hands down her naked skin.
Christ, I was getting hard again. Down, boy.
"It's not like I don
't want to." My voice came out husky. I allowed myself to trail a finger down her arm, relishing her responsive shiver. "But I told you before: I don't do complicated. And I can't imagine that anything good could come from us compromising the integrity of our agreement."
Blake watched my finger with fascination as I trailed it back up her arm, which was raised with goose bumps. "Just one question about that." She still watched me but sounded alert and focused.
I let myself wrap a hand around her arm, stroking her. My cock was getting treacherously hard. "What's that?"
"Why would sleeping together complicate things?" She sounded genuinely curious. "You and I are both adults. We've agreed to a business arrangement. If we have sex, it would be just that—an extension of the agreement. We both know it has an expiration date." She stepped closer and looked up at me expectantly. "But I understand if you don't want to."
"You're pushing me." Heat and longing filled me. My erection tented my pants, trying desperately to reach out and touch her. "Christ." I let go of her arm and took a step back. "I am a breathing, human male. Of course I want to. I just don't think it's a good idea."
"Okay," Blake said simply. She stepped back, dismissed.
"Do you need an ego boost or something?" I asked, annoyed. I wasn't sure what she was playing at, making me ache like this.
She let out a surprised bark of laughter. "No. It's just that I want you to be happy with the arrangement. And I wanted to make it easy for you in case you changed your mind. I didn't want you to be… embarrassed… if you had to make the first move after all your proclamations and decrees against it."
I laughed in spite of myself. "Proclamations and decrees, huh?"
"You have been going on about it," Blake said under her breath. "I thought it was like a 'protest too much' kinda thing."
I stopped laughing. My cock was still throbbing, irritated as hell that it wasn't going to get what it wanted. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. And I don't get embarrassed, babe."
"Of course not." It was like a veil was lowered over her face; she seemed to shut down her openness and any honest emotion on cue. "Well, good night. So I'll be seeing you tomorrow?"
"Yes." Disappointment flashed through me as she headed to her room alone, just like I'd instructed. "We have things to do. A wedding to plan. Venues to book. Dresses to buy."
"Dresses? As in my wedding dress?" Blake whirled back toward me, her hair swinging, emitting that scent that made me stiffen even further. Fuck. I was going to have to go back to my room and jerk off again.
Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, and I noticed, much to my chagrin, that this pleased me a great deal.
"Yes, Blake. Your wedding dress. I made an appointment with a bridal salon tomorrow. Also, we're having our announcement pictures taken in the Common." I'd had nothing to do with any of this, of course. I'd gotten a lengthy text from Shirley, who'd made all the arrangements and taken care of all the details. She'd only offered to help, but in her typical fashion, she'd gone above and beyond, hiring Boston's best photographer and making an appointment at an exclusive bridal studio on Newbury Street for first thing in the morning.
Blake grinned at me. "Well, I'm looking forward to it. Shopping with you, I mean."
"We'll be having wine at lunch," I assured her. "Shopping drives me to drink."
"Me too." She walked tentatively toward me then leaned up and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.
"What's that for?" I put my hand over the spot where she'd kissed me, as if I could preserve it. Jesus, Lucas. Get a fucking grip.
"For being sweet. And for letting me have a graceful exit after I tried to get you to sleep with me—again." Her smile didn't falter.
"My pleasure." I nodded toward her door. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
"Yes, sir." She winked at me, and before I could object to her word choice, she disappeared into her room.
With the scent of her hair still all around me, I went as swiftly as I could down the hall to the privacy of my own room so that I could relieve myself.
Again.
Chapter Nine
Blake
I couldn't sleep. Instead, I tossed and turned, finally giving up and staring at the ceiling. Why am I trying so hard to get Lucas into bed? Is it just because he's handsome and sexy?
Nah. He was a prime specimen of male physical beauty and power, all muscle and smoldering good looks. But that usually wasn't enough to get me excited. It took a lot more than that.
Not that I was excited. I would never admit to it, anyway.
Is it because he said no?
Maybe. It was certainly a first for me, aside from Vince. Maybe Lucas's rejection stung me more than I cared to admit, and I wanted him to see what he was missing.
But I didn't think that was the real reason.
It’s because I like him. I liked Lucas Ford—I liked his brain, I liked his take on the world, and I liked his unflappable confidence. I also liked his green eyes, dimple and big shoulders, but that wasn't the point. I didn't "like" guys. I had sex with them. For money. They were all Johns that way and that was how I preferred it.
So if I slept with him, he would no longer be Mr. Special and I wouldn't be crushed out on him. He would just be a John, like all the rest. And that was what I wanted, for too many reasons to scroll through in my tired head.
Christ. Now I was analyzing myself.
I rolled back over, trying to fall asleep and desperately trying to turn my internal psychoanalyst off.
I did not like her diagnosis at all.
LUCAS
I woke up the next morning sporting wood, the kind that wouldn't go down on its own. Unfreakingbelievable. I hadn't masturbated this much since I was a high school sophomore. That was right before I smartened up and got a girlfriend—one that was just as horny as me and wasn't interested in talking too much.
Blake's hair spilled out all around her on the bed. I stroked it, my naked body covering hers. My erection rubbed against her wetness. She felt slick beneath me. If I didn't watch it, I was going to come before I even got inside her.
Or got to the best part of the fantasy. I needed to pace myself with Blake, even in my imagination. For fuck's sake. I was seriously losing it.
Don't think, don't think, I coached myself, trying to get back to the fantasy. If I didn't get this over with now, I was going to be walking around Newbury Street all day with blue frickin' balls.
Blake arched her back and looked up at me with her wide blue eyes. "I need you," she gasped, sounding as if she would die if I didn't fuck her right now. So I did—I eased my cock into her tight, pink, perfect pussy. Her body clamped around me like a vise.
"Holy fuck, babe," I said as I started to thrust.
"Lucas!" she cried, writhing in pleasure underneath me, her tits bobbing as I fucked her hard. "Oh, fuck!"
"Come for me, baby." I wanted to feel her shatter around me and suck my cock dry already. And this was my fantasy, dammit.
"Oh, yes! YES! I fucking love you, Lucas! I love you!"
She fucking loves me? What the actual fuck was the matter with—
It didn't matter because I came, suddenly and in a torrent. A soft curse escaped my lips as I exploded, an imaginary Blake still writhing beneath me.
Then there was a knock at my door. "Lucas?"
"What?" I snapped, not thinking. My body still shook with the shock of my orgasm.
"I brought you coffee," a cheery voice called, and then Blake opened the door.
"Can I have some fucking privacy?" I roared, my dick still in my hands.
Blake took two steps in, saw me on the bed, opened her mouth—and then it seemed she couldn't manage to close it. "What? Uh, oh boy. Sorry." She looked around in a panic, clutching the mug of coffee she'd brought in. She looked as if she might burst into hysterical laughter or tears. I couldn't tell which.
"Just leave it on the dresser," I said disgustedly, my chest still heaving.
&nbs
p; "Okay," she squeaked, setting it down and shooting out of the room faster than Michael Phelps leaving the blocks.
I wiped myself off with a tissue, staring at the ceiling. I was still breathing. My heart was still beating. I was officially living proof that I couldn't die of embarrassment.
As I calmed down, the CEO in me decided to take charge. I decided that I was going to think of today as a positive challenge.
Or, in an alternative, I was going to need to beat something.
But not my man-meat. That routine was getting retired right now.
Fresh from the shower, where I'd attempted to drown my shame, I sauntered out to the kitchen, mug in hand. I'd decided to just play it cool. Blake was a grown woman; surely she would act like an adult and just let the incident drop.
She was sitting in the living room, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee, a picture of quiet, upscale domestic normalcy. "Hi," she called, not looking at me. "Everything come out all right?" Her shoulders shook in silent laughter.
"Ha ha," I said, but then I gave up and started to laugh, too. "It did, but barely. I'm uh… I'm not used to having company."
Blake nodded, her head still buried in the paper. "I'll remember that. Sorry. I just wanted to give you a coffee. I didn't mean to interrupt your… flow." She started laughing again.
I groaned. "I'm fine, thank you. And I told you—I don't get embarrassed." And yet, my cheeks were flaming.
Blake peered up at me over the paper, taking in my blush. "I know. I remember. That's why this isn't weird, right? It's not weird?"
"I think we've gotten beyond weird." I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat down on a barstool, still watching her. It was actually nice to have her there even though she was currently busting my balls. I never invited the women I slept with to sleep over, let alone hang out in my home.
I love you, Lucas! The image from my earlier fantasy suddenly presented itself to mock me. I shivered, disgusted with myself, and hopped off the barstool. "I'm going to hit the gym before we go out for the day. Please help yourself to some breakfast."