by Jordan Marie
“You’re home late, Mr. Anthes. Can I heat you up some dinner?” the maid Mayra asks me almost as soon as I step through the front door.
“No thanks, Mayra. I grabbed something at the club. Did you show Ana to my room?”
“Ana?”
“Didn’t my driver drop off someone earlier?”
“No, sir. It’s been quiet all evening.”
Son of a bitch.
“Never mind, then. I must have been mistaken about the night. I’m going to crash. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight sir. Try to get some rest.”
I stomp into my bedroom, pissed the fuck off. I pick up the cordless phone on my nightstand and call my driver.
“I thought I told you to pick up Ana.”
“Yes sir, you did. I’m still waiting at the club. She hasn’t come out.”
“The club closed two hours ago. There’s no way she’s still inside. Next time I give an order, I don’t care if you have to go inside—you better make sure my orders are carried out. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes s—”
I hang up before he can finish his sentence, immediately dialing another number.
“Boss? Is something wrong?”
“I need Ana’s address and phone number,” I demand. “Now.”
“Give me a second,” Joe says, sounding put-out. “Boss, she’s a good kid. She’s not like your usual women.”
“Just get me the number, Joe.” I’m not about to get into this with him. What happens with Ana is not his business. He relays the information I need and I hang up without comment, immediately dialing the number he gave me.
“Hello?” she answers, sounding surprisingly awake for the hour.
“You’re not here, pet.”
“Roman,” she says, her voice a whispery sigh.
“Why aren’t you here, Ana?”
“Roman, what happened, I… I don’t think we should… It was a mistake.”
“The hell it was. I’m going to send a car over.”
“Roman, don’t. It’s late. I haven’t been sleeping well and I’m dead on my feet. All I want to do is crawl in my bed and sleep.”
“You can do that in my bed.”
“We both know if I give in to that, we wouldn’t be sleeping.”
“We would eventually.”
“Roman, I don’t fit into your world.”
“You’re in my world, pet. You work in my club.”
There’s silence on the phone. Then she whispers one word so quiet I strain to hear it. “Temporarily.”
“Ana, I don’t think you understand that I’m not giving you a choice in this.”
“Roman, listen to me. I know it’s hard to grasp, but I’m saying no to you.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“I noticed,” she sighs. “My life is complicated right now. I have enough on my plate. I can’t get mixed up in whatever trouble you have going on.”
“Trouble?” I question, my body going tight.
“Police don’t raid just anyone, Roman. I have a brother in trouble. He’s all the anxiety I can handle right now. He’s missing and I just—”
“My business is my business, Ana. Whatever happens between us, my professional life is not your concern. It does not touch you.”
“You can’t promise that, but it doesn’t matter. I told you, I have to concentrate on finding Allen and I just don’t have time in my life for a relationship.”
“Again, pet, I don’t do relationships and I’m not asking.”
“Gee, Roman. You don’t date, you don’t do relationships … What exactly do you do?”
“I’ll show you. Be ready. My car will be there in fifteen.”
“I can’t, Roman. At least not tonight. I just got back in after looking for my brother and I’m just too tired to move. I’m going to nap and then head out in the morning.”
Frustration runs through me at her words. Do I tell Ana and demand she gives in to me? Do I finish off her brother and say nothing? There are two clear paths and yet I don’t take either, mainly because I want Ana, but the first choice smacks of desperation and that’s not who I am. Ana will be mine. What happened between us tonight did nothing but chisel that in stone.
“I’m sending my car over. You can sleep here and sleep in.”
“Roman, I can’t. My—”
“I will help you find your brother, Ana. Now get enough stuff together for a couple of days and I’ll have my driver pick you up in twenty minutes.”
“You’ll help me find Allen?” she asks, her voice full of disbelief.
She could join the crowd. The minute I said the words, I wanted them back. It’s too late and what’s done is done. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing other than getting Ana in my bed. That seems to be the only important thing right now.
“I don’t know the particulars,” I tell her, lying, “but tomorrow we’ll talk and I’ll help you. I’m sure my contacts are better than yours.”
“Roman,” she whispers, her voice breaking.
“Twenty minutes, Ana.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“Good. See you soon,” I tell her before clicking the phone off and calling my driver and giving him Ana’s address. I go to the bar and poor myself a drink while undoing my cufflinks and putting them down. I take off the tie completely and unbutton my shirt, leaving it on. I collapse in the chair facing the bed, drink in hand.
Chasing a woman. What the hell is wrong with me? I hope I know what the fuck I’m doing.
Chapter Ten
Ana
Paul is going to kill me. Hell, I might even kill me if Roman doesn’t beat us both to the punch. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I couldn’t resist though. When Roman said he would help me find Allen, I had to give in. I’d like to play the martyr and say that’s the only reason I gave in, but it would be a lie. I wanted to see Roman again. I wanted to have this time with him. It has nothing to do with my brother. Jesus, maybe being fucked up runs in my family. I thought I might have been the one sane one, but signs are starting to point to the fact that I’m as screwed up, if not more, as my mother and Allen combined.
I spend the next fifteen minutes throwing a few things in an overnight bag and mentally berating myself. The longer I think about what I just agreed to, the more my nerves close in around me. When someone starts knocking on my door, I nearly jump out of my skin. I pull the strap of my satchel over a shoulder and walk to the door, cursing myself silently in my head.
“Who is it?”
“I’m Mr. Anthes’s driver. He said you would be expecting me.”
“I’m ready,” I tell him, opening the door. I’m also lying through my teeth. He’s a tall man, maybe about the size of Roman, but he definitely lacks his presence. He’s wearing a black suit and keeps his hand on my back the entire walk outside. He takes me to a large, black, stretch limousine.
As we approach, he opens the car door. “Ms. Stevens, there’s a minibar and television in the back.” His words go through me. I feel like Alice and I’ve stepped through some kind of rabbit hole.
The door closes and I settle inside, the leather interior feeling softer than I remember leather being before. I keep my hands in my lap, afraid to touch anything. The limo starts up, the engine running so quietly that had there not been a change in the vibration of the air around me, I’m not sure I would have noticed. The darkened partition between the front seat and the back slowly slides down.
“We’ll be there in about forty minutes, Ms. Stevens. If you need anything, there’s an intercom button on your door.”
My eyes seek out the button and find it. I turn back to the driver.
“Um. Couldn’t we just communicate like this?”
“Most of Mr. Anthes’s passengers like privacy.”
The small fine hairs on the back of my neck tingle at the chauffeur’s words. Why does it feel like by “passengers” he means “women”? That’s basically what I am, right? A woman he’s pursing for sex
. I’m old enough and lived through enough that if I want a quick fling with a man—or hell, even a one-night-stand—I should feel no shame. The problem is that Roman is the last man on earth I should pick to do that with. Things are complicated and this is just going to make it more so.
“I’m not like his normal passengers,” I tell the driver, because if nothing else, I am completely sure of that. “What’s your name?’ I ask him, needing the idle conversation to still my nerves.
“Robert.”
“Hi Robert, I’m Ana.”
“Hi, Ana,” he says and smiles at me through the rearview mirror.
“Where are we going exactly?” I ask, because I have no idea.
“Mr. Anthes lives on the east side of the city. We’ll be there in no time.”
The rest of our ride is relatively quiet and full of passing small talk about the weather and the NBA playoffs, of which I know next to nothing. I figure men and sports go together easily enough, so I fake my way through the conversation. He takes me further out onto a dirt road. I didn’t know there was a place this remote in all of Miami. My survival instincts have kicked in and I feel nerves skitter down my back. Did my conversation with Roman about my brother trigger something for him? I clutch my satchel close to me.
“I thought Mr. Anthes lived in an apartment near his nightclub?” I ask Robert just as we’re rounding a curve. My tight hold on my satchel loosens as a large iron gate with a big “A” on it comes into view. You can see a paved road from that point on and it leads to a gigantic mansion beside the ocean. Hello, world. Meet money.
“He owns a hotel there and keeps the top floor to stay in, but this is his house.”
“Oh. Does he bring many people out here?”
Silence. Guess I asked too many questions.
When the car comes to a stop, I spend a few seconds to catch my breath when Robert gets out of the car. I turn when the door opens, but it’s not Robert standing there; it’s Roman. His hair is disheveled, he’s got a five o’clock shadow going, and his shirt is completely unbuttoned which leaves a line of bronze perfection to draw my eye. Instantly, I wish the shirt was gone—and then I want to slap the stupid out of me.
Roman reaches his hand in. I stare at it for a minute before putting mine in his. White hot heat runs through my system. Never has this happened to me before, this instant electric connection to someone that is so powerful, it short-circuits my brain cells. Why does the one man it happens with have to be Roman Anthes?
He helps me out, but my legs feel like jelly. I nearly fall and stumble against him. I brace myself on his chest, my fingertips burning when they touch his bare skin. His arms go around me and I get lost in the musky smell of his aftershave and the scent that is just him. Strong. Powerful. Alpha.
“That will be all for today, Robert. Put Ms. Steven’s bag inside the house,” Roman tells the driver, as if bringing a woman to his house at almost three a.m. is an everyday occurrence.
“Very well, sir.” Robert says. I hear him, but my eyes are glued to Roman’s face and the look in his eye as he watches me.
“You dance in these shoes. Is there some reason you’re having trouble walking in them?” Roman asks, his arms still around me.
“Gee. I’m going to go with nerves. My boss at work is trying to tie me in knots,” I snap.
“I do plan on tying you up, pet, but I’ll make sure you like it,” he says with a dark smile.
I think my ovaries just spontaneously combusted. I really need to get a handle on things.
I swallow at his words and ignore the shudder of excitement that runs through me. “Roman, I told you this is just not a good idea. I came here to get your help to find my brother. I’m just not looking for a relationship right now.”
“Neither am I.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“I don’t do relationships, pet. I want to fuck you.”
His words steal my breath. How do I respond? I should slap his face. I shouldn’t be interested in this man, but there’s some type of pure male magnetism surrounding him, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that from the moment I first saw him, I wanted him. That’s what dancing for him was all about. It was reckless and stupid, but then being here is, too.
“I don’t do one-night-stands, and could you please quit calling me that? I’m not a dog.”
His deep brown eyes flick over my body.
“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear, Ana. You don’t have a choice in this,” he says.
“What are you doing?” I cry, beating against his chest when he pulls me up in his arms, carrying me toward the front door of his home.
He grabs both of my hands in one of his, securing it around my wrists. He leans down so that our lips are just a breath apart. The heat coming off of him surrounds me and robs me of my voice.
“This will not be a one-night-stand, pet.” His dark voice slithers over me and I’m frozen, unable to move, glued to the promise written all over his face. “This will be about submission. Yours. You will give yourself to me in every way you can possibly imagine.”
“You’re crazy,” I whisper. I deny him, but I’m afraid because I can hear the surety in his voice and I’m called to it.
“On the contrary, I’m quite sane. Give me your lips, Ana.”
“This is crazy. Why would I submit to you?”
“Because I will give you more pleasure than your body could ever imagine.”
“Roman,” I start, but he doesn’t let me finish.
“And because, Ana, you won’t have a choice. Now, give me your lips.”
I pull against his hold, needing to get away from him, to breathe, to try and think, because I’m being drugged by the scent of him, by the feel of him surrounding me, by the need in his voice and the dark promises in his eyes. All of it is closing in on me and seducing me.
The harder I pull, the rougher his hold becomes on my hip until his fingers are biting into my skin. I gasp at the sting of pain and the rough way he handles me.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, pet. I prefer the easy right now. But, I will not lie to you. I will be a happy man if you choose the hard way. I will enjoy the fuck out of going that route with you. So, choose Ana.”
“I don’t understand,” I tell him, thoroughly confused. Perhaps it is my lack of sleep, or stress has taken its toll on me and I have completely lost it. Whatever it is, I am completely out of my depth for the first time in my life.
“Give. Me. Your. Lips.” His order comes off as dark words punctuated with heavy need. There’s no way I should obey his command. No way on earth. Yet, my head bends into him, wanting his kiss, craving it.
He takes my lips, claiming them with a fierceness that should terrify me, but instead sets my body aflame. He sucks my tongue into his mouth, torturing and teasing it with his own. He plunders every corner of my mouth, every small nook and crevice, and his taste is a mixture of alcohol, lust, and all man.
The kiss changes slowly. It becomes more about calming and enjoying instead of possessing, and only then do I break away to drag oxygen into my lungs. My breathing is heavy, my heart hammers against my chest, and my body hums with pleasure. I can feel his cock pushing into my hip and he’s rock hard. The heat from it alone brands me. I bite my lip to keep from rubbing against it like a cat in heat.
Roman stares at me for another moment, then brings my wrists up to his mouth and kisses the inside of each one before letting them go. I feel one of his hands petting my hair and a second later, his voice is at my ear. “Very good, pet. You just earned one reward.”
I have no idea what that means. I just remain silent. Words are beyond me right now. I never knew kisses like that existed and the fact that I just shared one with Roman is yet another reason to be terrified of what I’m doing. Paul is going to kill me.
Chapter Eleven
Roman
I take Ana into my house and sit on the sofa with her. I keep her in my lap. My hands pet her hair and her
arms, getting her used to my touch, training her to need it. She doesn’t try to get off my lap, but she starts looking around the room. I watch her face as she takes it all in, wanting to judge her reaction. She doesn’t know it, but she’s the first woman besides my employees that I’ve allowed through the doors. Then again, something tells me that Ana will be special, otherwise I wouldn’t be pursuing her this hard.
“Do you like it?” I ask, looking around the room and trying to see it from her eyes. I never thought about it really. I hired Miami’s premiere design company to decorate. There’s a lot of white with large splashes of turquoise and orange and lime greens, all colors associated with the beach and life in Miami, or so my decorator said—something about the colors being warm and vibrant. To be honest I never really cared. Now I wonder if it falls short in Ana’s eyes. I’d like to know her thoughts.
“It’s nice.”
That’s it. I may have not had other women here, but instinctively I know they would have noticed the designer’s handiwork. They would have seen the top-of-the-line furnishings and expensive paintings and had dollar signs in their eyes. Ana’s eyes are not like that. In fact, I get the feeling she doesn’t like the house at all and is trying to be nice. I don’t normally smile, but that thought has me doing so now. I have to wonder if this is the first of Ana’s surprises for the night.
I stand up and slowly let her go to the floor. She takes a breath as her feet hit the floor, but I still keep her wrapped up in my arms, not wanting to let her go completely yet. Her hands brace on my shoulders as she takes off her high heels. I’m not sure what she thinks she would hurt or why she’s bothering. I’ve never met a woman who has taken her shoes off unless they were stripping for me and a lot of those times they leave their shoes on. Being barefoot obviously feels better. Does she feel that comfortable with me? I make note to have thick carpet installed if this works out. That way, her feet can stay warm.