Wicked Pleasure

by Taryn Leigh Taylor

  AJ’s gaze drifted up to the ornate chandelier above them as they stepped into the marble-tiled foyer. An efficient-looking woman with a wide smile approached them. “Mr. Kearney. Welcome. The Mitfords are so happy you could make it. If you and your date will follow me, I’ll take you to the ballroom.”

  “Pretentious much?” AJ muttered under her breath, and he smirked at her as they followed their guide down the cream-and-gilt hallway. “Who lives like this?”

  He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Just your run-of-the-mill rich guy and his wife.”

  “Are you sure they didn’t die in 1842, and now they’re trapped in this creepy Victorian fun house? I mean, this place has evil written all over it. Everything’s so...gold, and I think the naked angel babies are staring at us.”

  Liam glanced at the cherubs on the closest wall sconce and couldn’t dispute AJ’s theory.

  “It’s like a horror movie.”

  Liam chuckled. “I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

  “Oh, no way. A fancy gold freakhouse doesn’t count as showing me a good time. I dropped nine grand on this outfit, and these shoes already hurt my feet.” She gave a dismissive flick of her wrist to signify their opulent surroundings. “You’re going to have to do way better than this.”

  “I offered to buy the dress.”

  “First of all, I don’t need your charity. I’m fucking good at what I do, and I make sure I’m paid accordingly. And second, the price tag was almost worth the look on Ashley’s face when I pulled out my credit card.”

  Before Liam could comment on that, their guide turned that overly bright smile back on them. “Here we are. Please enjoy yourselves. The balcony is through the French doors near the stage. Facilities can be found at the end of the hallway that’s through the doors near the bar.”

  Liam nodded his thanks to the woman before ushering AJ inside the impressive room with vaulted ceilings. Waitstaff circulated with large silver trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. The stage, currently hosting the piano trio responsible for the classical music soundtrack of the evening, and the aforementioned bar dominated either end of the space. In the middle, men in tuxedos and women in gowns of all colors mingled, danced and imbibed.

  “So this is how the one percent get their freak on, huh?”

  Liam grinned at her observation, but it faded when he caught sight of their hostess for the evening, issuing orders to one of the waitstaff while her husband, Henry Mitford, laughed genially with a couple to her left. Though Liam’s step didn’t falter, all his muscles drew tight.

  AJ’s fingers flexed against his forearm. “Hey, you okay?” she asked.

  The fact that she’d noticed his change in demeanor brought him back. “Yeah. I’m good. Just a little business to get through before we get on with the night. Let me introduce you to our hosts.”

  Their hostess finished up with the waiter as they approached.

  The smile she donned as she turned to greet them turned brittle as recognition set in. “Liam. You came.”

  “I did.” He tipped his head in a mockery of a bow. “Sorry to disappoint you. AJ, I’d like you to meet Cynthia Mitford...”

  AJ had already put on her best party smile and was in the act of extending her hand when Liam gave in to the perverse whim and added, “My mother.”

  AJ jerked her hand back, which made him want to drag her off into a dark corner and kiss her senseless, but his mother didn’t even notice the slight as she turned to make sure that her husband was still otherwise engaged before her razor-sharp gaze cut toward him. He assumed, if she weren’t Botoxed to the level of marble, she would be frowning at him.

  “If Henry had heard that, I would never have forgiven you,” she spat.

  “My sincere apologies. I keep mixing up which one of us it is who should be seeking forgiveness in this relationship.”

  She stole another furtive glance at Mitford before unleashing a very cold and unwelcoming “Why did you come?”

  “The same reason you invited me in the first place. Appearances.”

  “You could have declined.”

  AJ’s fingers dug into his arm almost painfully, as though his flesh was the only thing keeping her from forming a fist, and he appreciated the way it stole some of his focus.

  “I could have, but what would your husband think if I did? He’s been begging me to attend one of these soirees of yours all year. And speak of the devil.”

  His mother’s retort, whatever it might have been, withered on her tongue as she fixed her thin mouth into a practiced smile. The effortless transition to perfect wife was almost impressive.

  “Kearney! Glad you could make it.” The welcome held genuine warmth, and it made his mother’s frosty greeting sting more in retrospect than it had in the moment.

  “Henry.” He accepted the man’s hearty handshake. “I was just thanking your wife for the gracious invitation. I’d like to introduce my date. This is AJ.”

  “A pleasure, to be sure.” Henry shook her hand as well. “What do you do, AJ?”

  “Well, my socialite-ing keeps me very busy.”

  Liam watched in awe as she leaned conspiratorially toward the woman beside her.

  “You know how it is, right, Cynthia? Barely enough time left in the day to take care of the little ones, what with all the rich-people things going on.”

  His mother turned deathly white.

  Unaware of the subtext, Henry tried desperately to right the sinking ship. “Oh, how lovely. You have children?”

  “God, no,” AJ replied as she plucked a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. “I do a lot of supermodeling on the weekends, so pregnancy isn’t really on my list of to-dos right now.”

  Henry’s bushy eyebrows drew into a confused frown. “I thought you just said—”

  “Cats,” Liam interjected. “AJ likes cats.”

  AJ’s dark eyes sparkled at his save, and to his surprise, his chest loosened a bit.

  “I do. They’re much easier to deal with than humans, don’t you think? Besides, there are so many kids in the world who are just abandoned on doorsteps, left to fend for themselves. It’s really tragic. I don’t plan on having children until I’m responsible enough to take care of them.”

  Cynthia’s mouth twisted sourly.

  Henry looked like a man adrift at sea with no clue what to grab for buoyancy. “So, you’re a model?”

  “Actually,” Liam cut in, taking pity on the man, “AJ is a brilliant forensic hacker. If you hear of anyone in the market for a top-notch security consultant, put them in touch with me.”

  “Of course.” Henry’s smile cleared now that they were on a page that made sense to him. “Well, now, I’m not surprised to hear that. I’ll bet being high-tech helps you keep up with this guy.”

  AJ took a sip of her drink. “You’d think, right? But the truth is, I’m way ahead of him. Liam’s actually a huge aficionado of old-timey stuff. Bank vaults. Vests. Newspapers.”

  “Newspapers? Really, Kearney? I’m surprised to hear it.”

  “My grandfather used to read the Sunday Times without fail.” His mother’s shoulders stiffened at the recollection. “I like to keep up the tradition.”

  “What a great memory.” Henry patted his wife’s hand, which was perched on his forearm. Her knuckles were white. “Cynthia and I believe very strongly in family.”

  “I’ll bet you do.” Even to his own ears, Liam’s voice sounded sharp, like the edge of a knife. It was in direct opposition to the light, personable tone he usually struck at gatherings like this one.

  A light smattering of applause filled the room as the current concerto drew to a close.

  He wasn’t sure why he’d gotten so defensive. He’d been to dozens of parties with Cynthia and Henry over the years and never cared much one way or the other, just exchanged a
couple of stiff formal pleasantries with Cynthia if they met head-on and couldn’t avoid it. And while they’d been running into each other more and more frequently since Henry had set his sights on becoming a subcontractor for Cybercore, this marked the first time Liam had let his resentment bubble to the surface.

  The first time he’d mentioned anything as personal as his grandfather.

  He supposed it had something to do with the fact that he’d never had a champion fighting in his corner before.

  As if on cue, AJ leaped back into the breach as the piano started up again, shooting him a syrupy smile that was completely out of character.

  “Liam, did you do this?” Before he had to figure out what she meant, she turned to their host. “They’re playing our song. Isn’t that romantic? Sorry to steal him away from you like this, Henry, but this guy promised me a dance tonight, and I aim to collect.”

  By the time the violin and cello joined in, it was all Liam could do to tamp down his grin.

  “Mozart’s Piano Trio in G Major is your song?” his mother asked, words dripping in acid.

  “What can I say? I’m super classy like that. Take care of this for me, would you, Cynthia?” AJ thrust the champagne flute into his mother’s hand before grabbing Liam’s elbow.

  “We’ll talk Monday, Henry,” Liam assured him as he let AJ extract him from the farce that had just played out. She didn’t stop until they’d cleared the French doors by the stage and made their way out onto the balcony. There were a dozen or so people milling about, so they ducked around a corner, using a huge potted plant as a shield.

  Even in the shadows, Liam could see that her eyes flashed with ire.

  “Just a rich guy and his wife, huh? You might have warned me.” She gave the bodice of her dress a sharp upward tug, like she was adjusting her armor, as she paced back and forth, two steps south, two steps north. “You know my inner bitch gets rowdy when shit like that gets sprung on her.”

  “Hey.” Liam reached out and touched her arm. She stopped, but when she looked up at him, all her agitation and anger faded into something so deep and sincere that it almost brought him to his knees.

  “God, I hate what she did to you.”

  He was overwhelmed with emotion. His throat constricted with it. “You’re fucking amazing. Do you know that?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  With gratitude. With hunger.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, and memories of their afternoon tryst ignited beneath his skin. Liam let the scent of her, the taste of her, the feel of her, drive all the other shit from his mind.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THEY’D ALREADY HAD sex twice that day, and still AJ’s body seemed happy to gear up for round three. When she finally pulled away, it was because she needed oxygen, not because she wanted to.

  His eyes were dark with passion, and her heart rate accelerated at the roguish intentions she could read in their depths. He wanted her, just like he had in the dressing room. Just like he had that morning, on the couch. He wanted her beyond reason—she knew because she felt the same.

  “This can’t happen here.” Liam’s voice held a note of regret as he reached up to cup her jaw in his palm.

  “I know.”

  His thumb stroked her cheekbone. “I can’t wait to take you home.”

  The words, the softness of his touch—it knocked the breath from her lungs. Home. He said it casually. Simply. Like she belonged there, too. No one had ever taken her home before. She’d never let them.

  She wanted to let Liam, though, and it was...terrifying. Too close. He kept getting under her armor, kept taking control she couldn’t afford to give up. This was exactly why she should never have let what happened on the couch that morning happen. “Why wait?” she asked, directing the action the way it should be going. The way she needed it to go. “I mean, we’ve already proven the dress can take it.”

  He raised his eyebrows, but it wasn’t an outright no, so she laced her fingers through his and tugged on his hand. He let her pull him forward a step.

  “It’s my understanding there are some facilities that might be perfect for our wicked intentions through the set of French doors near the bar.”

  She loved his attempt to look vaguely disapproving even though he was just as turned on as she was. “You want to fuck in the bathroom?” he clarified.

  “Sure. I’ll bet it’s all decked out in gold and marble or some shit. It’s probably nicer than my place.”

  He took a step back and tugged her with him.

  “I wouldn’t know. You haven’t invited me over.” He kissed her, nipped her bottom lip.

  AJ laughed. “Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, is it? I didn’t liberate you from that ballroom so you could give me a hard time, you know.”

  “Really?” Liam turned her and pressed her back against the wall, nudging her with his hips. “I thought that’s exactly why you brought me out here.”

  She moaned low in her throat as their lips met, dragging her under as another wave of desire overtook them. She could drown in him and not even care. AJ had never known anything like it. His hand drifted up her side, and when he palmed her breast, she thought her knees might give out.

  They were both panting by the time Liam lifted his head again.

  “I’m not wearing underwear.”

  Liam’s eyes flared at the announcement. “Where did you say that bathroom was again?”

  AJ grabbed his hand and sent him a naughty smile over her shoulder, intending to set a new land speed record as she dragged him through the party. The second they rounded the giant plant they’d been using for cover, though, she collided with another partygoer. The collision knocked her off balance and she yanked her hand free of Liam’s so she could grab the man in front of her. His strong hands steadied her, closing around her upper arms.

  “Shit. Sorry,” AJ muttered, clutching his lapels as she tried to regain her footing on her stupid strappy heels. The buckle of one seemed caught in the hem of her dress, and she kicked her foot a few times, trying to get it free.

  “AJ?”

  The sound of her name, the familiarity of the voice, the tightening of the man’s fingers against her arms; it all combined to send a foreboding shiver skittering down her spine.

  It took everything she had to raise her eyes, to confirm the one thing she didn’t want confirmed.

  “Max.”

  She yanked her hands back from his jacket.

  He let go of her arms just as quickly, but his amber eyes swirled with questions, and their eye contact wasn’t as easy to break. At least not until something behind her distracted him, and his gaze shifted over her left shoulder.

  AJ didn’t have to wonder what had caught his attention. The air buzzed as Liam stepped closer to her, that low hum of awareness between them still strong, even in the chaos.

  “Are you okay?” Liam asked, and she managed the barest hint of a nod as his hand came to rest at the small of her back. But she couldn’t bring herself to look away from her boss.

  Max’s jaw tightened and his gaze cut back to hers. “What the fuck are you doing with him?”

  It wasn’t the question she’d been expecting. Not from Max. It had heat, and Max was known for his icy control. His poker face was legendary, and the fact that he was so angry that he hadn’t even bothered to mask it proved that AJ’s actions had cut deep. Like a knife to the back, judging by the accusation in Max’s leonine eyes.

  Max’s girlfriend, Emma, stepped forward, blond hair in an intricate updo, looking downright stunning in a green dress with short sleeves and a plunging neckline.

  AJ had never met her. Not officially, though she knew her pretty intimately if you factored in the extensive spying and background check she’d done on the woman back when she’d been the number one su
spect in the hack on Whitfield Industries.

  Emma twined her fingers with Max’s before placing her other hand on his biceps and giving it a squeeze. The action drew his attention, and Emma gave a subtle chin tip toward their growing audience on the balcony. The animosity between Max and Liam was hardly a secret, and the fact that neither of them had addressed its origin story meant that it had become the stuff of legend among a certain crowd of people. And a lot of those people were in attendance tonight and trying very hard to look like they weren’t paying attention to the altercation unfolding—and failing miserably.

  At the reminder that they were in public, Max’s impermeable mask slipped back into place, and Emma smiled brightly.

  “AJ. It’s nice to finally meet you. Max has told me wonderful things.”

  AJ got the feeling the introduction was more a reminder to Max than a compliment for her, but she liked the stand by your man vibe of it.

  She accepted Emma’s hand. “Yeah, he likes you a lot, too,” she said, but her attention remained on Max. He was giving her nothing. Ice cold. Guilt swirled in her chest and dread reared in her belly, colliding near her heart in a weird, torso-centric case of vertigo. She’d hurt the only person in her life who’d ever given her a chance. She’d hurt him in the worst possible way. Betrayal. It was the one thing Max would never forgive her for. Not after what had happened with his father. Charles Whitfield’s duplicity had almost ruined Max. And now she was no better.

  AJ was only vaguely aware that Liam and Emma were now shaking hands. Keeping up appearances. A twisted version of real life where the two men AJ cared about most in the world had to play nice because she’d gotten carried away by her hormones and made a huge mistake.

  She’d let herself get caught up in Liam’s version of life, this facade of a place where everything was beautiful and decadent, and although the hyper glamour and casual riches weren’t exactly real life, there was something...nice about being out in the world again. Finding pieces of herself she’d thought long dead. She’d been seduced by pretending she was something she wasn’t. And now they were all paying penance for her fantasy.