Living in Secret: Living In..., Book 3 (5 page)

He didn’t want to have a glass of whisky with Kahu. He wanted to talk to Victoria. Tell her about his plan for the “arrangement” Kahu had mentioned last week and see what she said. But he’d been expecting to do that in a quiet, private place with the Victoria he knew, not the courtesan at the bar who currently had her hands all over the knees of another man.

His jaw tightened. He hated it when he had to change his plan of attack due to unexpected circumstances, but what could he do? As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t go over and speak to her now, not with this fury beating in his blood. Because he wasn’t at all sure he could keep a lid on it. He didn’t even fully understand quite why he was so furious in the first place.

He was going to have to go with Kahu. He was going to have to retreat. But maybe it would be for the best. After all, the night wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot.

“Okay, fine,” he replied shortly. “Lead the way.”

Kahu gave a short nod then got up, threading through the crowds and heading toward the doors. Connor followed him, keeping his attention firmly on the exit. But just before he left the room, he couldn’t resist once last glance toward the bar again.

She was looking at him.

And once again he felt it, the gut-punch to the stomach as her dark eyes met his. The heat in his veins igniting like a match to a line of gunpowder.

Victoria smiled. It was only a slight, subtle curve to her lovely mouth, but he saw it all the same. And knew it for what it was. A challenge.

Deliberately he turned away.

Very well. Game on.

“He doesn’t look very happy.” Raphael observed.

Victoria swallowed. Her heart was thumping hard in her chest, a strange electricity sparking in her blood. “No, he wasn’t.” Her voice was husky as she turned back to the bar, her hands almost shaking as she clasped them in her lap.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have smiled at him like that, but she just hadn’t been able to help herself. Connor had been furious, no doubt about it, a spark of pure rage lighting in his eyes. And she didn’t know exactly what had been the source of his anger, whether it was the dress she was wearing or the way she’d been acting with Raphael, but that almost didn’t matter. What counted was getting a reaction out of him that wasn’t polite interest or cool friendliness and that was a victory all by itself.

You didn’t come here to get a reaction. You came here to get him to sign those papers.

True. But making him angry was a start, wasn’t it? After all, if she got him angry enough, perhaps he wouldn’t even argue.

She reached out to pick up the glass of wine Raphael had ordered and took a healthy sip. It was cool and dry, delicious.

“You want to make him angry, don’t you?”

She didn’t look at him for a moment, taking another sip of wine to cover her surprise at the question. Then carefully she set the glass down again and looked at him. There was no judgment in his cat-green eyes, only curiosity. “He’s my ex-husband,” she said, hoping she didn’t need to explain further.

“I know who he is,” Raphael replied. “Kahu introduced me to him earlier.”

“Well then.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “I get the impression things are not as over as they appear?”

“Oh?” She positioned the glass on its coaster. “What makes you say that?”

“The look he gave you. And the fact he was extremely pissed with me.” Raphael paused. “Though I get the feeling you were giving him plenty of ammunition.”

Guilt shifted inside her. “Yes, well, I apologize for that. It’s a…private argument. I didn’t mean to drag you into it.”

“I didn’t mind. You can put your hand on my knee anytime.” There was an unmistakable heat in his eyes that even she, with her limited experience, was able to interpret.

Attraction.

Disturbed and yet at the same time oddly thrilled, Victoria looked away, picking up her drink again and taking another sip. A long time since a man had shown any interest in her and normally it would make her run a mile. Especially when she felt the pull of attraction herself.

But she was starting to think perhaps things would be different tonight. In another couple of weeks she’d be going to London, flying away from her past and all the mistakes she’d made. So what did it matter what she did tonight? As long as she got her papers signed, as long as she was free, that was the only thing that counted, wasn’t it?

She put down her glass, looked at her hands spread flat on the bar top. On her left ring finger was a pale, fading line, the mark from where her wedding ring used to be. The line was almost gone. In another couple of months, she wouldn’t be able to see it at all.

“Will you help me, Raphael?” she heard herself ask. “I’d very much like to make my ex-husband even angrier than he already is.”

There was a brief pause. “And you want to use me, I take it?”

“Yes.” She steeled herself. Turned to meet his eyes. “Would you mind?”

He looked at her a long moment and she had the impression he could read her as clearly as words written on a page. It should have felt exposing, but for some reason it wasn’t. “Can you tell me why?”

Victoria let out a breath. She didn’t want to tell him, but it didn’t seem right not to do so, especially when she’d asked for his help. “I want him angry enough to sign the divorce papers.”

“I see. And you think making him jealous will help?”

“Well, having you here with me certainly didn’t make him any less angry.”

“True.” He smiled, and there was warmth in it plus a touch of sweetness that calmed her uncertainty somewhat. “But I’ll tell you right now the look he was giving me was definitely a ‘hands off my property’ look. And that’s not a look you generally get from ex-husbands.”

She should have been bristling at the thought, because she wasn’t Connor Bloody Blake’s property and never had been. Yet a deep part of her found the statement thrilling in a way she wasn’t prepared to contemplate quite yet.

Ignoring it, Victoria arched a brow. “Oh, I don’t think so. Connor isn’t possessive.”

Raphael’s smile deepened, like he knew something she didn’t. “Sure he isn’t.”

“He isn’t,” she insisted. “So, are you going to help me or not?”

“Of course I’ll help you.” Raphael picked up his own glass and knocked it gently against hers. “I’m a fixer. And I especially like it when I can fix things for beautiful women.”

“And you don’t mind if I….” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say it.

“Put your hand on my leg? Flirt with me? I think I can bear it.” Something gleamed in his eyes. “And if I reciprocate?”

An illicit shiver crept through her. She ignored that too. “Well, that would be appreciated.”

“Ah, that I can do, darling. That I can do very well indeed.”

Connor sat in the deep armchair, his eyes half closed. Christ, he’d had a hell of an evening. His head was spinning from all the whisky Kahu had plied him with, whisky that hadn’t done a thing for the anger still burning away in his gut.

Kahu had given Connor a number of conversational openings while they’d sat in his study, his concern for him obvious. But Connor had taken none of them. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not about his anger, not about his desire, not about Victoria, period.

Eventually Kahu had taken his not-so-subtle hint and the two of them had rejoined the party in one of the upstairs bars.

It was quieter up here, less noise, fewer people. The room was all red walls and black wood on the floor, with chairs covered in rich, black velvet. There was a small bar along one wall, with a couple of people sitting on black velvet-covered barstools. Other groups of people were scattered on couches or in armchairs. There was even a full-on chaise lounge with a TV star and her entourage sitting around on it.

The music was of the quiet, classical kind, setting the atmosphere for conversation and privacy rather than the noise and chaos of downstairs.

Connor found it much more restful. At least he had. Until the door had opened and Victoria and Raphael had come in.

In fact, if he opened his eyes a bit more, he could see them sitting in a pair of armchairs in the corner of the room opposite him. She’d put her hand on the arm of Raphael’s chair and was leaning in to talk, her hair trailing over his knees.

It pissed him off.

He’d been trying to get himself into a calmer state before he approached Victoria but that calm seemed to escape his grasp whenever he saw them. And he really couldn’t understand why.

He’d never been possessive. Victoria had never been his property, she was a smart woman with her own choices to make and he didn’t own her. In fact, he prided himself on the fact he’d never felt possessive or jealous. And since they’d split up, well, he didn’t expect her to remain faithful to him in the slightest.

So he couldn’t think of a single reason for feeling so damn angry every time she put her hand on Raphael’s thigh or leaned in close to speak to him. So damn furious when Raphael laid a hand over hers or put his mouth near her ear to talk. It shouldn’t matter to Connor at all. And yet somehow, it did.

Connor wanted to tell Kahu to call his asshole friend off, but that would give away far too much and he wasn’t prepared for that. It was one thing to admit he was angry to himself, to realize he was jealous, quite another to admit it to another person. Especially when he wasn’t supposed to care.

Anyway, Kahu had his hands full. His dancer, in full tutu and pointe shoes ensemble, was sitting in his lap, whispering something into his ear.

It was all-in-all quite revolting.

Connor shifted his attention back to the couple across the room again, inexplicably drawn once more. He didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

Victoria’s back was toward the room as she faced Raphael, bracing herself with one hand on the arm of his chair. He had his hand on her outstretched forearm and was slowly stroking it up and down in a slow, sensual motion.

The fury inside Connor turned over, a dragon rousing from sleep.

He should go over there right now. Pull her away. Take her somewhere quiet and private where they could talk without that bastard hanging around.

Put her down on her knees. Teach her a goddamned lesson…

He blinked, both disturbed and aroused by the sudden thought. No. No, that wasn’t part of it. He couldn’t think like that, couldn’t afford to. He had to remain in control at all times, it was the bedrock of his existence and had been since he was eighteen.

Across the room, Victoria shifted her position and turned her head to glance over her shoulder. Briefly meeting his gaze. As she did so, Raphael’s arm slid around her waist, his hand settling in the small of her back.

Fucking prick.

Connor tried to moderate his language when he could but sometimes… Christ, his anger was going to choke him if he wasn’t careful. If he couldn’t get a handle on it.

He had to do something. He had to stop this somehow.

“Not here,” Lily was saying. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“I’d be here,” Kahu murmured. “And you know I’d kill anyone who tried to touch you.”

“That’s very reassuring.”

“I want to show you off. I want everyone to know how beautiful you are. They’ll want you and yet they’ll never be able to have you. Because you’re mine.”

There was a flicker in Victoria’s dark eyes as she looked away from him, and Connor could have sworn it was satisfaction.

The woman wanted to make him angry. Wanted to push him. Insanity. Did she really understand what kind of monster she was baiting? No, of course, she didn’t. She had no idea. He’d never told her.

“I don’t know how you make it sound so bloody romantic,” Lily went on quietly. “But you do.”

“It’s a gift,” Kahu replied, a smug note in his voice. “For me, ballerina? I’d get off on it. And I think you might too.”

“Pervert.”

“Of course. I’m a pervert from way back.”

Bright laughter in the air. “Okay. Maybe you’re right. Lucky for you I’ve had a margarita or five so I’m good with it.”

The loss of Victoria’s attention was like a break in his air supply.

Jesus. That did it. He either left and went home, and calmed the hell down. Or he went over there and…

Lily slid from Kahu’s lap, the movement blocking his view of Victoria and Raphael. His hands tightened on the arms of his chair in preparation for pushing himself out of it.

Until, without any fanfare at all, Lily pulled down her tutu and stepped out of it.

Connor stilled in shock.

Because she was naked but for her pointe shoes.

Conversations began to fall silent as Lily moved unhurriedly into the clear space in the center of the room. Then, as if she’d been practicing it for months, began to fall in step with the music.

Connor’s body was tight and he realized he was almost sitting up, ready to go and grab her. Cover the lithe muscularity of her naked body with something. Anything. He looked sharply at Kahu, but the other man was sitting back in his chair, completely at ease. He was even smiling as he watched his lovely girl dance naked in front of a whole crowd of strangers.

Christ, he could
not
be happy with her parading about like that, could he?

But Lily wasn’t looking at anyone other than Kahu. As if there was no one but them in the entire room.

Connor felt his heart constrict. There was something tender about the look Lily and Kahu shared, something intensely private that shut out the room and everyone in it.

For some strange reason, he found himself helplessly glancing back over at Victoria.

To find her looking back at him.

He couldn’t have explained the expression in her eyes. Or the emotion clenched like a fist in his chest. Regret. Sorrow. Pain. A thousand different things. All the emotions he told himself he didn’t feel.

Then she looked back at Lily dancing in the center of the room, her expression smoothing over like a wave smoothing the sand, washing away any signs of disturbance.

But Connor found he couldn’t look away from her, his heartbeat sounding loud in his head.

And as Lily danced, he knew one thing. He wanted Victoria to look at him the way Lily looked at Kahu. As if he was the only person in the room. As if nothing existed for her but him.