by Eve Black
There were two twin gasps, and then there was silence. That silence carried more shock than any words they could have spoken.
Chapter 11
She hadn’t been at the party celebrating her own employer’s win in his libel case. She hadn’t been in her office when he’d gone to invite Rick to lunch—not even once of the four bloody times he’d been there that week. Even Rick had noticed that he’d been around more than expected, necessary, or was logical. David kept making excuses to invite him out, and he kept accepting, but David knew his friend was suspicious.
But what else could he do? The woman was making herself invisible, and he knew that even if he used the number Alexei had found for her personal mobile she wouldn’t answer. Why would she?
“It’s like she’s fucking avoiding me,” he grumbled, tossing back the last of his Glenlivet, and roughly replacing the tumbler on the counter in his state-of-the-art, high end, chef’s kitchen. He’d never used it, but he employed a personal chef, and he was absolutely bloody brilliant. Right now, though, the kitchen, just like the rest of his penthouse flat, was empty save himself. And that’s how he liked it. There was no girlfriend to accommodate, no guests to make comfortable, no household staff to monitor… It was just him, his own needs, his own thoughts—and damn those thoughts for continuing to return to one blonde-haired, green-eyed, curvaceous paralegal who seemed determined to act as thought the night they’d shared hadn’t been the best fucking experience of her life. Not that that was the reason he was seeking her out; there was something about her that made the tension in his body skyrocket. He couldn’t help it, his gut told him there was more to her—to their encounter—than a simple one-night stand.
Certainly, he was the one to approach her in the bar, he was the one who asked her up to his room, and he was the one to strip every piece of clothing from her delectable body before he even thought to remove his own. He’d been a man possessed, hungry for her, the woman who smelled of sweet peaches, and he wanted to devour her whole.
Expecting her to be there the next morning, since he’d gone against his instincts to kick her from his bed after their third go ‘round, he was shocked to find she had taken flight. He’d searched the suite for her, wondering if she’d just decided to make herself at home (he wouldn’t put it past a woman to try and extend their stay in his post-coital presence), but she hadn’t been there.
He wanted to believe that his anger was because she’d left him instead of the other way around, but he came to realize since that he was angry at himself for even giving a moment’s thought to inviting her to stay the morning, eat breakfast with him, and then spend the rest of that Saturday in bed, exploring one another’s bodies.
But the desire to see her wasn’t his attempt to demand closure, there was more to it than that. There had to be. There must have been a reason she kept her association with Rick Ayers a secret. Were there company policies against fraternizing with clients? That could very well be it, it would explain why she’d made herself scarce, why she’d left the morning after before he could even lay eyes on her again. And why she’d refused his generous offer of a ride that day outside her doctor’s office.
But he couldn’t get his mind to accept that reasoning.
Diana Bluth was a woman; women often threw aside all caution and risks to gain the attentions of a man like him. She was no different. She’d been in a bar filled with other women, seeking rich and lonely men to seduce, and she’d gone with him easily enough—though, he was far more charming than most all mortal men. And he didn’t look half bad, either.
There was something going on with Diana, and the sensation of weighted apprehension he got whenever he thought of her meant that the something had to do with him. At least that’s where all the signs were pointing.
Immediately, his mind conjured images of Rinna, smiling up at him coyly. There was desire in her eyes, but also a devious glint, one he should have noticed before things got too deep between them. But, he’d been so wrapped up in her beauty and glamor, that he’d chosen to ignore anything that could reveal his weaknesses. Rinna was a weakness he was glad to finally purge, and he refused to let another woman catch him in her silky web. Never again.
Which meant he and lovely Diana were due for a conversation, one in which he would demand answers, she would give them, and he would dismiss her from his life forever.
After he fucked her enough to get her out of his system, of course.
Picking up his mobile, he dialed the number of the PI he’d worked with on a number of corporate “research” assignments. He was David’s go-to man for the ugly work of uncovering the truth behind the lives so many of the one percent. The more David knew, the more power he had over his own future. He never made a decision in his business without first knowing every single gory, disgusting, and often criminal detail of the people connected to an offer, a contract, or a potential partnership. He knew more about most of the men on the board of his company than their wives or mistresses knew. He was a god among them…and they didn’t even know it.
Now, he would use his deity to discover where Miss Diana Bluth was spending her off-time. Hopefully, knowing would tell him what plan she was concocting to get at him or his money.
Greg Astor, picked up on the second ring.
“Brenner,” he drawled. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to you do what you do best,” David directed, leaning back against the counter to peer out the floor to ceiling (a 30-foot-high ceiling) windows facing the Hudson.
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then, “Who?”
“Diana Bluth. She’s a paralegal at Kilgore, Ayers, Beecham.” And a goddamn nuisance to his peace of mind. The sooner he knew everything there was to know about Diana and her intentions, the sooner he could be done with her and his frustrating obsession with her.
Breathing in slowly, he focused on the view before him. Like most skyscraper dwellers, he’d paid a premium for the view, so he spent as much time as he could staring out the windows, over the city he practically owned, and wondered what the little people were doing. Damn, but his arrogance scared him sometimes.
“I will call you when I have something,” Astor remarked before ending the call. With him, David never needed to worry about needless conversations. He was a professional and David paid him well to just do his job.
Running his fingers through his hair, he pushed away from the counter and headed toward the master bedroom. Just like the rest of the penthouse, it was decorated in dark woods, sleek chrome accents, and plush carpets. Modern design encouraged the use of exotic wood flooring, but he much preferred soft, warm carpet beneath his feet. Growing up, he spent too much time in his parent’s VW camper van, where the corrugated rubber floors were often sticky from whatever beverage had spilled during their journey. Now that he could afford whatever the hell he wanted, he made sure each room in his house, save the kitchen, bathroom, and laundry, were carpeted.
Once he reached the master, he disrobed, tossing his clothes on the bed on his way through to the master bath. A long, hot shower was just the thing to help alleviate some of the rising tension making his neck and shoulders ache.
But the moment he stepped into the shower, he realized his mistake. The hot water would do nothing to rid him of the semi he’d been sporting for the last week. Every time he thought of Diana, his cock would respond, like a clarion call for a good, hard shagging.
Biting back a curse, he finished showering then returned to the kitchen where he poured himself another two fingers of Glenlivet. If he was going to keep his body in check, he’d need a damn more than a quick jacking off and alcohol.
He needed to find a tight cunt, eager for his cock, where he could work off the sexual frustration that had been strangling him. Not since that night with Diana had he been with another woman. Though he’d been tempted. Perhaps he’d held off, believing that vexing voice in his head, telling him that none of them would feel like Diana, but n
ow that he’d seen her again, had recognized she was scheming, he was determined to get her out of his system.
A one-night stand was just the way of it.
It was Sunday, that meant the Bella Notte would be brimming with ladies seeking one last wild fling before the start of the weekly drudge.
He quickly dressed in black jeans, white Henley that showed more than the proper amount of his well-hewn muscles, and black Converse. His look was the perfect mix of money and casual.
Hell, yes. He would be balls deep in a hot pussy before the night was over. Perhaps two, if he really wanted the challenge.
With a grin on his face, he left his penthouse, a skip in his step.
He rolled over and groaned, the light pouring through the windows making the pounding in his head all the more percussive. Like a tympani drum lodged in his skull.
“Fuck,” he said, moaning. He blinked, attempted to sit up, and immediately fell back against his pillows. Yes. His pillows. Despite his eagerness to spend the night at the hotel with a willing bed partner, he’d crashed and burned. Well…he had to have been flying to have crashed and burned. And the truth was, the moment he stepped into the bar, he lost all interest in taking one of those women to his hotel room—not that he didn’t try to resurrect his earlier determination to work Diana Bluth out of his blood. But he’d failed. Because every time he looked at one of the lithe, richly dressed, perfectly coiffed and made up women, he compared them to a frustratingly familiar template.
None of them were what he wanted—who he wanted.
So, he drank himself into a stupor, stumbled into a cab, left the hotel despite having a room there for the night, and then buried himself in cold, empty sheets in his own bed.
Turning his head, he glanced at the time on the bedside clock.
It was Monday morning. Eight-thirty.
He wasn’t expected at the Brexcel offices until a meeting at eleven-thirty, which meant he had time to burn the alcohol from his blood in his home gym, shower, and force down a couple of egg whites, avocado slices, and cherry tomatoes.
Throwing off his sheets, he noticed that he’d crawled into bed fully dressed. Shaking his head at his drunken idiocy, he dragged himself from the bed, peeling the sweaty clothes from his body, and stepped into the shower. He wanted to wash off the repugnance of last night before he did anything else that day.
Shower complete, he pulled on a pair of athletic shorts, socks, and trainers, and beat himself to shit in the gym. By the time his hour was over, a waterfall of alcohol scented sweat was pouring from his body. He showered again, dressed in his usual boss attire, and then skipped the egg whites and downed a protein shake instead.
On his way out the door at 10:20, his mobile rang. It was Greg Astor. David growled at the hiccup of excitement that burst within him. Astor would have information about Diana.
“Yes?” He saw no reason for morning pleasantries. Astor said he would call, and David assumed that since he had, there was something of importance to impart.
“According to the barista at Perk Me Up, Miss Bluth has coffee there several times a week around one.”
David paused, his hand over the elevator call button. That was information he could use to his benefit.
“When was the last time she was there?” he asked, a plan forming in his head.
“Three days ago.”
So, she was due to take in caffeine that day. A smile tugged at his lips.
“Did this barista tell you what she usually gets?”
“A large mocha and chocolate croissants.”
Hmmm, Miss Peaches n’ Cream is actually a lover of chocolate.
“Thank you, Astor,” David intoned, brushing off the strange excitement that began zipping through him. He ended the call and stepped into the elevator.
The day was certainly looking up, he just had to sit through a meeting, and then he could concentrate on spotting and then catching his prey. As the shiny brass elevator doors slid shut, David couldn’t help but admire the wolfish smile grinning from his reflection.
Chapter 12
Diana ended the tenth call of the day, tossed her cell on her desk, and caught her hundred-pound head in her hands. Who knew it would be so much work to find an OB near the office that took her health insurance?
A familiar knock on her door made her tense. Damn. She’d forgotten she was supposed to meet Margie in the lobby. They were going to hit up Perk Me Up for much needed caffeine and chocolate croissants—though Diana would have a strawberry-banana smoothie rather than her usual espresso and mocha concoction of magic. God, she hated removing caffeine from her life, but the benefit far outweighed the shittiness. She was determined to have a healthy baby, and if that meant living like a zombie for the next eight months, she’d damn well do whatever was necessary.
There was another knock on the door, and she flinched. She didn’t bother looking up when the door opened.
“Di, what’s up babe?” Margie asked, coming around Diana’s desk to slide her hands over Diana’s shoulders. She gave them a gentle squeeze.
Diana plastered a smile on her face and lifted her head.
“It’s just exhaustion. This baby is sucking the life out of me,” she said, in half-truth. She was exhausted, being pregnant really was an energy killer, but that wasn’t the reason for her current state of continual anxiety.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid David Brenner. Elaine, the receptionist in the lobby, had been kind enough to volunteer to call up to her office and warn her whenever David arrived. She thought Diana wanted to know so she could give Mr. Ayers a heads up, but it was really a heads up for her. When David arrived on her floor, Diana made herself scarce; she was either in the restroom, the break room, or on the other elevator, fleeing to Margie’s office. Though, why she thought he would even bother to come see her, she didn’t know. She inwardly shrugged; better safe than sorry, because she knew that if she caught even a glimpse of him, the urge to tell him about the baby would be nearly impossible to ignore. But she had to ignore it. She refused to be like those other women, the ones who used their babies to milk the daddies for money. Would life be easier if David and all his wealth were part of the baby’s life? Sure. But that came with its own set of problems, namely she was still as scared as shit to tell David, and the idea of asking him for money? Well…that made her sicker than any bout of morning sickness ever would.
“You still want to hit Perk Me Up?” Margie asked, oblivious to Diana’s inner turmoil.
Shaking off the worry for a moment, Diana smiled at her friend. “Hell, yes. I need time away from this desk, and I haven’t had a chocolate croissant in so long my blood to chocolate ratio is staggeringly low.”
Margie pressed a manicured hand to her chest in mock shock. “That is tragic! We must get you chocolatized immediately!”
Diana snickered, Margie’s humor doing wonders for the ache in her soul.
She grabbed her purse and they made a bee line for the elevators. The café was a short walk, and the entire time, Margie kept Diana’s mind occupied with tales of her escapades from the night before, when she and the flavor of the week, Ron, crashed a wedding reception.
Diana grinned her ass off, chuckling as Margie got to the part where they were thrown from the building by a security guard whose number she got. She’d called him that morning and they were going to hook up tomorrow night.
“Damn, you work fast,” Diana said, in awe of her friend’s lack of prudence. Pulling the café door open, she moaned, the smell of the place never failed to make her heart happy.
Margie shrugged, grinning at Diana’s visible bliss. “You would too if you saw him—all that hard-packed muscle in a black suit coat.” She growled. “I can’t wait to climb him like a tree and see what shakes loose.”
A laugh exploded from deep in Diana’s chest and, as she wiped the tears from her eyes, she noticed that there was a tension hanging in the air. Margie must have noticed it too because she lifted her face to
scan the interior of the crowded café.
She hissed in a breath and Diana snapped her head around to see what got Margie’s attention.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump!
Her heart tripped over its own feet just as she did, nearly stumbling into a man carrying a try of coffees.
Margie helped steady her and Diana swallowed, dragging her gaze from the man who shouldn’t be there.
Striding toward her as if he hadn’t just jolted the earth’s axis, his gaze scanned her boldly, the gray depths darkening when they landed on her breasts. Diana sucked in a breath—damn, the man had no shame.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned to ignore him, just as he deserved but, of course, a man like David Brenner wouldn’t allow that.
“Diana,” his sexy accented voice crawled over her, licking flames over her flesh. “I had hoped to catch you here.”
That was a surprise. If his words were to be believed, he’d sought her out. Again.
But why? Things were getting ridiculous.
You know you like it… She sucked in a breath, kicking her inner thoughts to the curb.
Turning, she arched her brows at him, her eyes carefully filled with dispassion, but hell, her body zigged and zagged with tingles of heat, beginning in her pussy and flaring out into her thighs, up into her belly, and farther up over her chest and neck. He could probably see the flush developing—damn him.
“Oh?” Diana uttered, her attention quickly caught by Margie who was standing next to her, her eyes dancing back and forth between David and Diana. Diana could tell from the interest in her expression that she wanted an introduction, but the last thing Diana needed was David knowing anyone associated with her—other than her boss, of course. And that was problem enough.
“Yes,” he drawled, his gaze flicking to Margie. “You don’t mind if I borrow your companion for a short while, do you?”