She’d started making drawings of designs for her own clothes in earnest once she accepted and celebrated her curvy figure. When one of those designs particularly appealed to her, she’d engage a seamstress in New York who would make the garment for her. The dress she was wearing today was one of them, worn deliberately so that Henri could see one of her designs. He hadn’t even commented on the gown being one of the designs in her portfolio.
For so many years, Natalia had carried a sketchpad in which to initially draw her designs, the latter two years as she traveled around the world attending fashion shows. She had a dozen or more sketchpads with those drawings of clothes and accessories for women with a fuller figure like her own. Sketches she’d lovingly adjusted and added to whenever the mood took her before adding them to her portfolio.
It had been her secret passion, something she usually only indulged in fully when she was staying at the Brunelli estate. When they were there, she could, and often did, remain in her suite for days without anyone questioning her absence. When she went away, usually to attend a fashion show somewhere around the world, she took a single sketch pad with her and then did bigger drawings of those designs once she was back on the estate.
Contrary to what she had told Henri, she had a dozen of those sketchpads at home.
She had told no one of her dream of one day becoming a fashion designer, not even her father. Not because she hadn’t wanted to share that with him, but because she’d wanted to surprise him with her eventual success.
She would be lying if she didn’t admit, to herself at least, that her complete silence on the subject was because she’d wanted to impress Killian with that success too.
Never in all that dreaming had she ever thought she wouldn’t succeed.
The finality of Henri’s comments about her work had not only put an end to her dream of one day seeing other women wearing her designs, but also to that hope she’d had of making her father and Killian proud of her.
Quite what she did with her life now, she had no idea.
Becoming a fashion designer had been her dream for the past six years. Everything she’d done during that time had been toward that end. The concentration on art classes at school. The traveling all over the world to attend fashion shows in the two years since. Even the friends she’d made during that time were all involved in the fashion business in one form or another.
All her hopes and dreams had been aimed toward the moment when she could have her own Paris or London fashion show and people would clamor to wear her designs.
Henri had dashed all that with a few kind but nevertheless brutally honest remarks. She had asked him to give her an honest opinion when she handed over her portfolio to him a month ago, but she really had never thought that opinion would be so devastatingly and heartbreakingly final.
Killian turned in his seat beside her. “Natalia—”
“Don’t,” she managed to say.
“But—”
“Please, don’t.” She was barely holding herself together as it was. The least show of kindness from the hard-assed Killian, and she was going to lose it. And she already knew it wouldn’t be pretty.
His anger was palpable. “I don’t know what he did or said to you, but I’m quite amenable to going back to the restaurant and kicking his arse.”
Natalia gave a choked laugh, still unable to look at Killian. “Don’t bother. He—” She broke off as her throat closed with emotion. “I don’t… He was only being honest with me.” She gave a shake of her head and then wished she hadn’t when that movement dislodged the tears balanced precariously on her lashes so that they now fell in a scalding cascade down her cheeks.
“Natalia!” Killian’s shocked cry was followed by him pushing back the leather armrest between them to then slide across the seat toward her.
As Natalia had known would happen, she broke down completely the moment Killian took her in his arms.
Chapter Seven
Killian couldn’t make sense of what Natalia was saying as she sobbed and clung to him, the front of his shirt damp within seconds.
He thought she was saying something like Henri the Asshole had told her he “had no wish to hurt me” but “it was no use,” and ‘I’m just not good enough.”
Had that prissy-arsed count dared to tell Natalia she wasn’t good enough for him?
If he had, then the only reason Killian could think of for his reticence had to be because Natalia was the daughter of the Mafia capo Leonardo Brunelli. No doubt that image didn’t fit in with the Frenchman’s good opinion of himself.
Killian hadn’t realized until now that Natalia was seriously attracted to the other man.
Natalia liked to flirt, to use that voluptuous body to attract the men who flocked around her wherever they went. But Killian had never seen her single out one of those men as someone she wanted to spend more time with.
Except Henri Asselin, he realized with a frown.
The previous month, Natalia had gone out with a crowd of friends that included Asselin, but she’d also spent several more evenings having dinner with just the count. One of those times, she’d been alone with him in their hotel suite all evening. Killian had been banished to standing guard outside in the hallway, and he’d only been allowed back inside after Asselin had left four hours later.
Even then, Killian hadn’t realized she was particularly attracted to the Frenchman. After all, Asshole hadn’t stayed the night with her.
Oh Natalia had complained to her father about Killian’s overbearing attitude after he’d announced a change of plans the following morning, and the two of them had flown to London to meet up with Leon. But still, Killian had believed her disgruntled attitude was just another reason for her to complain about what a “Killjoy” he was.
As it happened, he wasn’t being deliberately obstructive on that occasion, he just hadn’t been able to explain to her why Leon wanted Natalia in London with him. Something had been brewing in the Mafia boss’s world, and Leon had wanted Natalia where he could keep her close to him. The only reason they were back in Paris now was because Leon’s problem had been settled and the man responsible eliminated.
Amongst all that chaos, Leon had also met and fallen in love with the woman he was now married to. Which meant Natalia had remained even longer in London in order to attend her father and Carla’s wedding.
Consequently, it had been a month since they were last in Paris, and now it seemed that for all that time, Natalia had been hiding her feelings for Henri Asselin.
No wonder she had backed right off from Killian’s obvious arousal last night and not so much as mentioned the incident today.
They had both been naked, Killian completely and Natalia only wearing those barely-there underwear and sexy four-inch-high sandals. The natural conclusion to that would have been the two of them ending up in bed together.
But they hadn’t.
Killian now knew the reason for that was because Natalia was in love with another man.
Killian didn’t see the Frenchman’s appeal. Oh, the other man was handsome enough if you were attracted to slender and elegant good looks. But the other man was also over twenty years older than Natalia. Asselin also had such an awareness of himself and his reputation that he obviously didn’t see it including dating, or marrying, the daughter of an Italian Mafia capo.
Prissy-arsed bastard, Killian inwardly cursed again.
He looked down at her now as she released his jacket to pull out of his arms and move back to her side of the car. “Are you okay?” he prompted softly.
She nodded. “I’m fine,” she dismissed before turning away to search for something in her bag. Seconds later, she had mopped up all the tears and was reapplying her makeup.
Killian challenged even that fecking snob of an aristocratic French count to find fault with Natalia’s air of composure and dignity when she entered the hotel minutes later.
Her head was held high and all trace of her tears had been hidden by a sw
eep of face powder and fresh lip gloss. Her eyes were still overbright, and she didn’t glance to either left or right, but her expression had become serene as they crossed the lobby to the elevators.
It was only because Killian had spent the last two years knowing this woman’s every mood that he could see the heartache in her shadowed gray eyes and the lack of genuine warmth in her smile.
Natalia was hurting inside, and Killian fecking hated it.
“Drink?” she offered once they were alone inside their suite. She slipped her feet out of her high-heeled sandals and threw her bag down beside one of the chairs on her way to the bar area. “Oh, come on, Killian,” she encouraged when he hesitated. “It’s still early by French standards.”
Yes, it was, but sitting and enjoying a drink with Natalia after an evening out wasn’t in his job description.
Nor was stripping off and spanking her, but he’d had no qualms last night about doing exactly that!
And suffered for it ever since.
His erection had refused to go down after he’d been naked in the bathroom with Natalia. The palm of the hand he’d used to spank her had actually itched with a need to do it again. As he obviously couldn’t do that, he’d jerked himself to an unsatisfactory release instead, before dozing fitfully for the rest of the night.
It had been a long-arsed night followed by an equally long-arsed day, and then an evening watching Natalia with another man. As a consequence, Killian had been anticipating taking a shower once they were back at the hotel and then going to bed. Alone.
Damn it, he must be getting old if the comfort of his bed and a good night’s sleep now appealed to him more than having a drink with a beautiful woman.
Especially when that woman was Natalia.
He wasn’t old, damn it, he was just inwardly seething at knowing Natalia was in love with another man. Anything he did or said would be poor consolation when she really wanted the French count.
None of which was a good enough reason to leave Natalia to drink alone.
“I’ll have a brandy,” he accepted as he sat on one of the plush sofas in the seating area.
Her pleased smile before she turned away to pour his drink told him he’d done the right thing. Even if it was against the Bodyguard 101 rule book.
Killian gave an inward snort of self-derision. He’d been throwing that rulebook away for years, and last night in Natalia’s bathroom, he’d torn the damned thing into pieces and set fire to it.
Talking of which… “The two of us need to talk about what happened last night.”
“We really don’t,” she cut in firmly as she handed him one of the two glasses of brandy she’d poured before sinking down onto the sofa beside him and tucking her bent legs up beneath her.
“Would you rather talk about what happened tonight?”
Her lips thinned. “No.”
He nodded. “So, last night—”
“We both got naked, you spanked me, you apologized, and then we went to our separate bedrooms.” She gave a shrug. “What’s there left to talk about?” She took a sip of the brandy in her glass, her gaze challenging over its rim.
When she put it like that…
Killian grimaced. “Maybe start with whether or not you still want to replace me as your bodyguard with one of my cousins?”
Did she?
No doubt any one of the Price men would guard her equally as well as Killian now did. They were, after all, currently guarding her father and Carla.
Yes, the cousins could all do the job. Natalia just didn’t want them to.
After this evening’s disappointment regarding her fashion designs, she wasn’t sure she would be able to bear it if she lost Killian too.
Unless Killian wanted to be replaced…
She winced at the thought. “I was angry when I said that.”
His smile was self-derisive. “With good reason.”
Maybe. “Do you still want to be replaced?”
His smile became appreciative. “You twisted that question very neatly back onto me.”
She arched a rueful brow. “My father is an expert at deflection, and I learned to do it from watching him.”
He sobered. “I don’t want to be replaced. I just think it would be for the best.”
“For whom?”
“Both of us.”
Those three words pierced Natalia’s heart far more than the deep disappointment she’d suffered earlier at being told her designs weren’t good enough to be shown to the public.
Which revealed that Killian meant far more to her than any pipe dream she might have had regarding a career as a fashion designer.
Telling her something she’d long been avoiding admitting, even to herself.
She was in love with Killian. Deeply. Irrevocably.
The thought of no longer having him at her side to tease and torment was devastating.
Not just devastating, but world shattering.
She’d already lost her career purpose today when Henri told her honestly what he thought of her designs and her idea of starting a fashion line for curvier woman. If she lost Killian as her bodyguard too, then her world was going to become very bleak.
She gave a shake of her head. “I don’t want to replace you.”
His eyes widened. “No?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Her smile was teasing. “You sound surprised.”
“Probably because I am.” He took a swallow of brandy. “Half the time, you seem to hate me.”
“And the other half?” she prompted.
He grimaced. “Not sure.”
“No?” she challenged huskily.
Those green eyes searched her face.
Natalia tried to keep her expression as open as possible and not put up her normal defenses around this man. It wasn’t easy leaving herself vulnerable like this, but if today’s disappointment had told her nothing else, it was to seize all that life offered rather than living on hopes and dreams.
She wanted Killian, had wanted him for years, and if she allowed her stubborn pride to stand in the way of the truth, then he would go ahead and arrange for one of his cousins to take his place. Once that happened, there wouldn’t be another opportunity for the two of them to be alone together like this ever again.
She carefully placed her brandy glass down on the coffee table before taking Killian’s glass and placing it beside her own.
“Natalia, what—?”
“Shh.” She placed gentle fingertips against Killian’s lips, amazed at how soft they felt. “Things always get confused or misunderstood when we talk,” she dismissed.
“They do?” The warmth of his breath caressed her fingertips when he spoke, sending shivers of sensation through the rest of her body.
“Yes.”
“What do you suggest we do to change that?”
“This.” She moved up onto her knees until she was able to straddle Killian’s muscular thighs. “And this.” She leaned forward until her lips lightly brushed against his. “We can’t talk when we’re kissing.” She claimed his lips.
Chapter Eight
Even as pleasure invaded every one of his senses, Killian knew he needed to put a stop to this.
Firstly because, until Leon told him otherwise, Natalia was still under his protection and any intimacy between them was seriously putting that, and her, in danger.
Secondly, after their earlier conversation, Killian knew that he was being used. Because the man Natalia really wanted, Count Henri-fecking-Asselin, had told her this evening that he didn’t return her feelings.
Was that reason enough for Killian to reject her too?
It should be, because Natalia was going to hate him in the morning as well as herself if this went any further.
Except the way Natalia was now rubbing her silk-covered pussy against the hardness of his cock as she continued to kiss him was making it difficult for Killian to think at all, let alone rationalize their behavior.
Feck it, Natalia could hate him tomorrow, because tonight, Killian was determined to give her so much pleasure she wouldn’t even remember the Asshole’s name until much, much later.
He tilted his head and parted his lips in order to deepen the kiss as he set about devouring those deliciously pouting lips that had tormented and teased him for far too many years. They tasted as delicious as they looked.
His hands on Natalia’s hips held her in place and he continued to kiss her as he slowly thrust his cock against the hardened nubbin he could feel pressing against her silk panties. Natalia might think she was in love with another man, but right now, she was responding to him. And this time, Killian wasn’t backing off.
Natalia couldn’t believe Killian was kissing her back, intensely, passionately, intimately as his tongue thrust past her lips. He was also thrusting the long length of his cock against her pussy, that hardness rubbing against her clit and causing the juices escaping her channel to wet her panties. So much so, it was sure to dampen the front of his trousers too.
She didn’t care.
She’d wanted this for so long. Wanted Killian for so long.
His hair felt soft and silky when she entangled her fingers in that darkness as they continued to kiss. Long and hungry kisses that continued even when Killian easily lifted her and placed her lengthwise on the sofa before lying between her parted thighs.
He was big enough to crush her, but Natalia didn’t care about that either as her arms were wrapped around Killian and his tongue continued to explore and lick the heat of her mouth.
Her legs moved instinctively to wrap themselves around his lean hips, linked together at her ankles, her bare feet resting on his hard glutes.
She could feel those muscles flex as he began a slow grind of his cock against her engorged clit. Time and time again, sending lightning bolts of pleasure through her whole body until Natalia knew she was on the verge of release.
Killian (Dance with the Devil 3) Page 6