Tonight I’m the one in charge. Not that I have to delude myself when it comes to Cris. There’s no reason to worry our evening together won’t turn out exactly how I planned. I smirk, preferring this line of thought to the previous one. So I’ve made a few mistakes of the female variety in the past. It doesn’t mean I can’t learn or grow.
Cris is chatting up an old guy in a suit, her smile warm and genuine. Damn but she is wearing that dress, isn’t she? She’s been blessed with a hell of a lot more patience than me. I can’t let her have too much more champagne, though. Her conking out after one orgasm isn’t going to inspire a salacious Dear Diary entry. We need to get out of here pronto. Or faster than pronto, whatever word that would be.
“Tonight’s the big night.” Vivian materializes at my side, the picture of a woman who has drunk too much champagne. She’s not sloppy, just giggly. Which is adorable on her, as she’s not the giggly type.
She was doing her best to be unapproachable the first time I met her at Nate’s house. I invited her to brunch with our family, unsure if he was going to or not. She looked surprised and didn’t quite know how to respond. Luckily, she agreed and came with us. She met the whole family that day. I could tell she was nervous. At the time I had no idea she was Walter Steele’s daughter, but as I got to know her I understood why she was protective of her identity. Her dad was a piece of work.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I take a sip of my water. I abandoned the scotch after my second glass, not wanting to dull a single one of my senses tonight. I wasn’t kidding when I told Cris I would remember everything. I’m going for a record on snapping mental photographs. I’ll keep them tucked away in a private album for years. Mine, mine, all mine. My first mental photo? That luscious red dress. I’m going to take a hell of a lot more after we escape this endless shindig. I don’t want to miss anything.
“I didn’t tell Nate. Or anyone,” Viv stage-whispers. “Cris and I were chatting about it earlier. I am really excited for you.”
“You are?”
She nods, her grin wonky and adorable.
My chest puffs at hearing Cris was sharing details with Vivian, but I cover with, “It’s a favor. She’s a good friend.”
“You can’t believe that’s true. That there’s nothing else underneath the attraction other than her need to be rid of her pesky virginity?” She whispered that last word, but I peek around at the crowd anyway. No one appears to have overheard, which is a good thing. I’m sure Cris wouldn’t appreciate her secret being advertised.
“We know who we are. That’s what matters.” There’s nothing complicated about sex for me. There never has been. It’s a way to have a release, reclaim the happiness and joy that eluded me as a kid. I lost my virginity at age seventeen, which might be young in retrospect, but I’m glad for it. Having sex was like discovering a new world. I had somewhere to go that wasn’t mired in grief. I was granted a much-needed break from constantly trying to fit in with a family that wasn’t really mine and none of whom looked like me. Plus, I was a nerdy kid. A mathlete. Thank God Will pushed me to play sports. Soccer put me in the same circles as the jocks, which kept me from being shoved into my locker on a daily basis. Turns out nerdy kids with decent physiques have no trouble winning the girl.
“You’d better not run her off. I love her.” Vivian pushes her bottom lip into an exaggerated pout.
“Cris isn’t going anywhere. We talked about it. We’re not going to suddenly not be friends. I’m teaching her how to be treated well.” The guys she dates in the future better step the fuck up. God knows those dopes from the dating app can’t tell caviar from Rice Krispies.
“Well I, for one, am glad she doesn’t have to lose her virginity the way most women do—to someone with zero skill who didn’t deserve it.” She grips my forearm and regards me earnestly. “I’m glad she chose you. It’s a big responsibility and you won’t let her down.”
Is she trying to put extra pressure on me? Don’t get me wrong. I’m fantastic in bed. I’m great at giving and pleasing. Her vote of confidence adds steel to my spine. I cannot fuck this up.
“Have you ever taken someone’s…” She looks around furtively before deciding not to finish that sentence the way she’d originally planned. “Have you ever been someone’s first?”
“No, but I remember my first time. I felt like an idiot. I’m sure I felt that way my second and third time too. Luckily, I knew the secret to becoming really good at something.” I give her a grin. “Practice, practice, practice.”
“What is my brother telling you? He looks full of shit.” Nate slings an arm around Vivian’s neck and kisses her temple. “Actually, he always looks like that, so never mind.”
“Oh, just our usual chitchat at these boring-ass things. Can we leave now?” She exaggerates her request by sagging under the weight of his arm. “Please?”
On this, she and I are on the same page. “What a great idea, Viv. We can leave Archer here to handle anything Owen-related.”
“Archer is busy with future prospects.” Nate tips his head toward the bar. A stunning woman wearing a necktie and slouchy white shirt is sitting sideways on the barstool, facing our brother. She’s wiggling one foot, a black high heel dangling from her toes, while twirling her hair around one finger. Archer watches her, his neatly-trimmed beard shifting subtlety.
“Damn. He’s in trouble,” I blurt.
“That’s Talia. She introduced herself to Cris and me earlier. She asked if Archer was as friendly as you.” Vivian pokes my chest.
I burst out laughing.
“Exactly,” she agrees. “Anyway, she’s opening a spa. She wants Archer to help her attract high-end clientele.”
“He’s done it for bars and nightclubs. I don’t see why he couldn’t help a spa, or its owner.” I study their body language. Hers doesn’t broadcast she’s looking for more than a business deal. His, on the other hand, is reading a little 007.
Listen, I know the way Archer is around women. I’ve seen him on enough dates to understand when it’s on. This Talia woman may think she’s propositioning him for a job, but my brother has something more nefarious in mind. I wonder if he’ll succeed. I would stay and find out, but I have better things to do tonight.
“Bet they end up in bed together.” I turn to Nate to see if he’d like to take that bet. He narrows his eyes like he’s considering it.
“Don’t you dare damn her to that fate.” Vivian is so sincere, I find myself chuckling at her comment.
“If Archer has a hard-on for anything, it’s his next business deal,” Nate comments. “He was already looking for something to do in Miami, so I’m sure he’s planning to piggyback the spa onto the other project to save time and money on travel.”
“He’s looking to piggyback all right, but I don’t think it’s with the spa,” I say. Vivian emits a delicate snort.
Nate watches Archer for a beat. “You’re wrong. He’s got her on the hook. This is all business, Benj.”
He might be right. Nate’s a workaholic, but he tends to be out in the field with his guys, taking out walls or doing site visits. Even when he’s meeting with the mayor, they’re usually outside of an office. Nate is a noticeable guy with his sheer size and that crooked nose of his. He’s a big teddy bear, though. He’s good at a podium.
I’ve always been a behind-the-scenes guy. I work my magic with numbers and run my life as efficiently as possible.
Archer is a blend of Nate and me. He has our father’s work habits (falling under the Why So Serious column), and nearly every biz deal is life or death to him. William doesn’t approve of the bars and nightclubs Archer builds, but that doesn’t stop Archer from building them. Pissing off Dad might be what fuels his productivity.
Whenever I’ve suggested Archer hire an assistant like Cris to help him with his schedule, he makes a joke about his phone being “slim, quiet, and never talking back,” or some shit. Half of me always thought that was his shtick whenever we were in
a crowd, but the other half of me considers he was sincere.
And yet there is a part of me wondering if this woman could break him. Like Nate said, there might not be anything going on between them other than Archer’s hard-on for a shrewd business deal, but I don’t think it would take much to escalate it into personal territory.
“No way will she allow herself to be wooed into his bed,” Vivian comments. “She’s going to eat him for dinner.”
“Don’t be so sure,” I say, eyeing Nate as he slips his arm around Vivian’s waist. “Archer is an Owen, and Owens have a way of landing the girl.”
She rolls her eyes but her smile is unstoppable.
“He has moves,” I say, baiting her.
“They won’t work on Talia Richards.” A devious smile curls Vivian’s lips as a trickle of fear slips down my spine. Her hand lashes out to take mine. “Shall we wager an even three thousand?”
“Sure, if you want to be cheap about it.” I smirk.
“Talia’s going to come out on top.” She squeezes my hand. “And not in Archer’s bedroom.”
“I love when beautiful women lose money to me,” I say as I shake her hand. “Though you might be right since he’ll probably go to her room.”
Cris approaches and stands between us. “What did I miss?”
“My future wife and your…Benji made a bet about Talia and Archer.”
Her Benji. I like that.
“What are the parameters?” Cris asks, interested.
“Three grand,” I tell her. “I say Arch is going to romance the brunette. Viv thinks Talia is completely in control of her faculties.”
Cris looks over her shoulder at the couple in question and then back at me. She shakes her head before echoing Viv’s earlier sentiment. “He might try, but she’s all business. You’re gonna lose, Benji.”
Everyone chuckles at her assessment. Even me, even as a frisson of fear follows the first trickle. If Cris can tell Archer’s fate at a single glance, what does she see when she looks at me?
I have a premonition I’ll live to regret her deductive powers. I’ve never been a fan of people seeing through me. It’s why I keep a smile on my face. The idea of her detecting what’s beneath my veneer, and excavating something I didn’t know was there, is downright terrifying.
Chapter Eighteen
Cris
Vivian, Nate, Benji, and I make the unanimous decision to leave early. We can’t stand another second of this event. My feet are killing me and all I want to do is get out of this dress. Vivian too, though she announced it while her hand was wrapped around Nate’s tie. I love that woman.
The event coordinators, including Marla, are still managing the event. She appears to be ignoring me, but the uncomfortable prickles on the back of my neck tell me otherwise. I can almost feel her watchful gaze. As agreed upon, Nate and Vivian leave the room behind William and Lainey.
“We’re next.” Benji scoops me against his side and murmurs into my ear. “I have plans for dessert and they involve you.” Before I can accuse him of being cheesy, he adds, “I figured you’d be hungry after the paltry amount of food they offered us tonight.”
“Do you mean literal dessert or…me for dessert?”
He winks. “I mean both.”
My virginity went from something I didn’t often think about to an albatross tied around my neck. I’m at once looking forward to ridding myself of it and anxious about letting it go. I shiver as his fingers trail up my bare arm. I know he’ll be gentle, incredible, wonderful. In short, he’ll be Benji.
For whatever reason my mind returns to Marla. Maybe because he had sex with her. I have felt the sting of jealousy at seeing him with another woman but never before has it felt this sharp.
He must catch me scanning the room. His warm breath coasts over my ear, his deep voice zapping my every nerve ending. “You have to know she isn’t half as beautiful as you are.”
“I have eyeballs,” I tell him. “She’s not exactly Billy Goat Gruff.”
He doesn’t laugh, which is perplexing. That was a good one.
“I’m sorry she treated you the way she did. It was rude. It was indicative of the kind of person she is and didn’t have anything to do with you. The jealous glances she keeps darting your way, though, those are deserved.”
“You think she’s jealous of me?” A doubtful smile curves my lips.
“Of course,” he says so sincerely I have no choice but believe him. “She can’t touch you. You’re poised and honest. Damn distracting in red.” He nips my earlobe, and a jolt of awareness shocks my limbs. “Incredibly distracting. Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay,” I breathe.
He takes my hand and tenderly weaves his fingers between mine. And just like that we’re on our way. Marla is forgotten. Archer and Talia, if they’re still here, off my mind. There is only Benji’s hand warming mine as we cross the street to the Crane Hotel, walk through the lobby, and slip into an elevator. He presses a button.
Once the doors close, he leans down and places a kiss on my collarbone. He then drags his lips across my exposed neck. “Cris.”
I can’t breathe, let alone speak. I tip my head. He kisses my throat before licking a trail to my earlobe, suckling, and then taking my mouth. The kiss is deep and hard. I swear there are sparks behind my eyelids.
The elevator dings and the doors slide aside.
We’re here.
On the top floor.
At our suite.
He opens the door for me and I walk into a fantasy.
Benji
“Is this the same room?”
She’s impressed. I can hear the awe in her voice.
“Benji.” My name is a faint whisper. The look on her face is at the top of the list of things to remember about tonight. I take a mental photograph. Click.
She glides through the suite, taking her time to admire the many, many changes since she left. Starting with the vases of roses—red, because my goal is over-the-top romance. I tipped the concierge generously, and he didn’t disappoint. Crystal vases, with two dozen fragrant buds in each, are stationed in various parts of the room. Ten in all, one for every year I’ve known her. A bath is drawn in the large freestanding tub next to the window, rose petals and flickering candles floating on the water’s surface.
Cris walks to the bathtub, gazes out the window at the dark ocean, and then turns to me, a curious smile on her face. From there she checks out the sofa and a low coffee table where there is another vase and the dessert I promised.
“Donuts?”
“Chocolate-covered strawberries are cliché. Plus”—I join her—“these are not merely donuts. These are brioche donuts filled with vanilla crème.”
“They sound amazing. And unhealthy.” She bites her lip.
“You’re off the clock, coach.” I thumb her lip from her teeth. “Tonight you are my Firecracker.”
I take her hand and we sit on the sofa. I lift one of the donuts, crème filling dolloped on one end, to her mouth. Powdered sugar dusts my suit pants as I instruct, “Lick.”
She doesn’t hesitate, her eyes on mine when she sneaks out her pink tongue for a taste. My pants grow tight when she closes her eyes and lets out a low “Mm” sound.
“I hope to hear more of that tonight,” I tell her before taking a bite of the dessert I special-ordered for the evening. More powdered sugar falls on my pants. She tips her head back, spreads those lush lips, and laughs softly.
I take another mental photo. Click.
She swipes her fingers along the corner of my mouth. “You’re really something, Benjamin Owen.”
“I’m whatever you need me to be, Cristin Gilbert.” I offer her the donut, and rather than take a bite, she dips her finger into the crème and sucks it off the tip.
Sucks.
It.
Off.
Click.
And here I thought I was the one in charge tonight. She’s doing fine without my direction. I polish off the donut, a
nd offer the plate holding the remaining four. She shakes her head and the curls framing her face, more having fallen out of her updo as the night droned on.
I set the plate aside and scoot so close our hips touch. My upper body facing hers, I tuck my hand under her jaw and tip her lips to mine. Our sugary kiss turns sensual and deep a moment later. The rustle of her dress against my shirt reminds me we have too many clothes on for my plans.
Before I’m done kissing her, she pulls away to ask, “We don’t have to take a bath first, do we?”
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do tonight. This is about you. This is all for you.”
Her smile is appreciative. She stands and takes my hand. I stand with her and allow her to lead me across the room. Three wide steps lead up to a bed covered in a white bedspread. Rather than rose petals, I asked the concierge to leave something else for her. Something unique. Something she’s going to love.
She picks up the box, wrapped in white paper and tied with red ribbon. Her head snaps over to me as she clutches the box in both hands. She grins, her eyes flashing with gratitude, and she hasn’t even opened it yet.
Click.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask.
“You—”
“If the words ‘you didn’t have to’ come out of your mouth, I’m bending you over my knee. And trust me, Firecracker, that’s a few levels up from where we are.”
I wink. She blushes.
Click.
She tears open the box and lifts the lid, revealing a rectangular red velvet box. Inside is a delicate gold chain, and dangling on that chain a golden compass pendant with a diamond at the top. It’s timeless, delicate, beautiful. Like her.
“It’s…it’s… I don’t know what to say.” She blinks rapidly, her gray eyes misting over.
“Turn around.” When she does, I reach over her shoulder and remove the necklace. I drape it around her neck and snap the tiny lobster-claw clasp.
Charmed by the Billionaire Page 13