The Billion Dollar Bad Boy (11 page)

Determination settled down inside her. Donovan would change his mind. She’d make him. The only question was how. With the threat of Jax out of the equation she needed some other way of one-upping him.

“I think we’re done here, aren’t we?” His lazy voice came from behind her. “Well, it’s been fabulous doing business with you, Ms. de Winter, but—”

“But nothing.” Victoria turned back, purpose steeling her spine. “We’re not done, Mr. Morrow. Not by a long shot.”

“You’re still not getting it, are you? I’m not selling.” That smile again. “Not now, not tomorrow, not in a hundred fucking years.”

“And there’s nothing I can do to make you change your mind?”

“Well, unless you have another slice of Morrow history somewhere up your sleeve, then no.” He dropped his arms, began to gather up the papers in front of him.

Oh, hell. He was going to leave.

Victoria walked swiftly over to the table. “I said we’re not done.”

He didn’t even look at her. “I’m afraid we are. I have another meeting in …,”—he glanced at his watch—“ten minutes, and I don’t want to be late.”

“But … we haven’t finished.”

Donovan’s blue eyes lifted to hers, pinned her to the spot. “Yes, Ms. de Winter, we have.”

Something twisted in her chest. Something painful. “Well, have you got another meeting time? Tomorrow maybe?”

“I’m afraid not.” That impersonal, horrible smile again. “I’m afraid my schedule is going to be booked up for the foreseeable future.”

She understood then. If he walked out that door, that would be it. The deal would be over, and not only that. It was highly likely she’d never see him again, either.

The painful feeling in her chest intensified.

“This isn’t about the land. This is about last week, isn’t it?” she said abruptly. “You’re punishing me for walking away from you.”

He laughed, but there was a harsh edge to it. “Why would I do that? To punish you, I’d have to care. And I don’t. So there goes that theory.”

Without thinking she reached out and put a hand on his arm.

Donovan froze and she felt it, too, the burn of their chemistry. The heat of him beneath the wool of his suit jacket. The hard strength of muscle and sinew that all the wool in the world couldn’t hide from her.

Green flames sparked in his eyes and she saw it. Anger.

Yes, she’d been right. She
had
hurt him. And he
was
punishing her.

“If you don’t care, then why are you so angry?” she demanded, keeping her hand on his arm, vaguely aware that her own anger wasn’t just about him jeopardizing this deal for personal reasons. That it had something to do with the thought of not seeing him again.

“Angry?” His smile widened. “I’m not angry. What I am is late. So if you’ll excuse me.” He shook her hand away and pushed his chair back.

Dammit, he couldn’t leave.

Acting purely on instinct, Victoria stepped between him and the meeting room table. Then she pushed herself up so she was sitting on the edge, directly in front of him, and placed one stiletto-clad foot, then the other, on the arms of his chair. Caging him in the chair.

Donovan stilled, shock tightening the lines of his face. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I told you we weren’t done and we’re not.”

Anger flared across his features, a brief, bright flame. Then it was gone and he was smiling that smile again, the one she’d come to despise. Gradually the tension left his body and he sat back in the chair, his gaze dipping down to where her skirt rode up to her thighs. Where no doubt he had the perfect view of her panties.

“Nice,” he drawled. “So what are you offering to make me stay? Another blow job? Because that might work, though I’m not making any promises.”

He was doing it again. He was deflecting her with that horrible smile and that playboy facade.

“Shock tactics won’t work on me, Mr. Morrow,” she said coolly. “I thought you would have learned that by now.”

He lifted his hands and all the air disappeared from her lungs, as he wrapped his fingers around her ankles on either side of him, then slid them higher up her calves. “Then clearly I need to be more shocking.”

Heat flashed through her, her skin prickling, an ache beginning to build between her thighs.

“Shall I fuck you right here, Victoria?” Donovan murmured, his thumbs sliding back down to caress her ankles. “Or should I just walk away? Leave you sitting here on my meeting room table?”

She tried to calm her racing heartbeat. “You’d better make sure you can walk away before you make ultimatums like that.”

He laughed. “You think I can’t? Just watch me, sweetheart.” His fingers tightened around her left ankle and he pulled it off the arm of the chair, rising to his feet.

Oh, hell.

Taking a breath, she put one hand behind her and leaned back. “I suppose you could leave,” she said, hoping she sounded calm and in charge. “Alternatively you could stay and watch me instead.”

And there it was. The merest flicker in his gaze, but she caught it. Knew he’d heard the heat she’d let deliberately bleed into her voice. “Stay and watch you do what?”

She swallowed, her heart racing. Because she knew how she could win this. Make him stay. Make him do whatever the hell she wanted him to do. And the thought of it thrilled her, excited her in a way she didn’t quite understand.

Slowly, she let her legs fall open a little wider and watched as his gaze dipped again, as if drawn helplessly between her thighs.

“You think I’d give that away?” she said, her voice not quite as steady as it had been. “I’m a businesswoman, Mr. Morrow. Negotiation is my middle name. If you want to find out, you’ll have to stay.”

“It’ll have to be quite a show, Ms. de Winter.”

She met his gaze. Held it. “Oh, I assure you, it will be.”

He hesitated a moment more, then, with an easy movement, sat back in the chair, placing her foot once more on the arm. “Then by all means. Entertain me.”

Perhaps she was mad to consider what she was considering. She’d never done it before, after all. And yet she wanted to. Make this arrogant playboy sweat. Make him see that while she could walk away from him, he couldn’t walk away from her.

Acknowledge that she was the one who wielded the greater power.

Her heart beating even faster, Victoria eased her skirt up, allowing her knees to fall open wider. He didn’t move but his jaw tightened as his attention dipped between her legs.

She leaned back further, a thick, heavy heat beginning to build inside her. Reaching down, she let her hand slide inside the waistband of her panties.

A thin strip of color stained his cheekbones.

She watched him, stroking one finger over her clit, shivering at the sensation and at the tight, hungry look that crept over his face in response.

“Are you entertained, Mr. Morrow?” she couldn’t help asking. “Still think you can walk away?”

His gaze flicked to hers, green burning bright. Then he pulled his chair in, so he was right up close to the table, his breath feathering over the sensitive skin of her thighs. Like he was preparing to eat. His hands lifted.

“Oh, no,” she said breathlessly. “Did I forget to mention? No touching. So put your hands on the table.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?”

“I’m not fucking kidding you. Hands on the table. Or else I stop.”

Again that intense gaze. “I could leave.”

Victoria moved her hand, biting her lip as she stroked her clit again, making sure he could see it. “Feel free,” she murmured. “I’m quite happy here by myself.”

He wasn’t going to leave, not if she could help it.

Deliberately she closed her eyes as if he’d already gone, tipping her head back, spreading her legs wider. She eased a finger inside her sex, feeling her own slick, hot flesh grip tight, and she let the moan escape, the sound vibrating in the silence of the room.

The sound of fabric shifting, the sense of someone looming above her.

She opened her eyes. He was standing with his hands flat on the table on either side of her, his gaze glued between her thighs, the look on his face was so intent she almost couldn’t breathe.

He wasn’t smiling now. Wasn’t in any way that lazy, taunting playboy. He looked hungry. Starving. For her.

A surge of power went through her, twisting the pleasure harder, tighter. She’d made him stay. She’d put that look on his face.

“You want to watch me come, Donovan?” she asked raggedly. “Is that what you want?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Then watch.”

All it took was a flick of her wrist, a movement of her thumb and the climax overwhelmed her, pleasure igniting like a flash fire. She held his gaze as she rode out the orgasm, shuddering, seeing him stripped bare. All hunger. All desire.

And she knew then that this wasn’t about business. Or power games or masks.

This desire, this need, went deeper than that, struck at the heart of both of them. And she wanted to explore it. See where it would lead.

She pushed herself up, panting with the aftershocks. “I want to come home with you, Donovan. I want that night you promised me.”

His gaze never left hers. “I said it was a one-shot deal. I wouldn’t offer again.”

Victoria lifted a foot and pressed it against the fly of his suit trousers. He hissed between his teeth, his whole body going rigid and no wonder, even through the soles of her black stilettos she could feel how hard he was. “You’re really going to turn me down? Or do you want to punish me again?”

He closed his fingers around her ankle but he didn’t pull her away, only held it, his grip warm and strong. “That’s tempting, believe me.” His throat moved, the white shirt he was wearing stretching tight over his powerful chest as he took a sharp breath. “I don’t know what you do to me, Victoria de Winter.” The intensity in his eyes burned hot. “I want to tell you that was it. That you don’t get another chance. But … you’re the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

She moved, obeying an instinct she hadn’t known she possessed, sitting up and reaching a hand behind his neck, bringing his head down, his mouth on hers. Only a brush of lips but he let her. And when she released him, she said, “I’m sorry. I was wrong. And I was scared. I shouldn’t have walked away from you.”

He looked down into her eyes, his thumb pressing hard against her ankle like she was pressing her sole against his fly. “This isn’t about business. Understand? If you come home with me, you come because you want me. Not because of this deal. Not because you want my land.” His voice was hard but she could hear a thread running through it. The same longing that had her in its grasp, too.

“I understand.” She took an uneven breath. “Anyway I’ve … already come because I want you after all.”

This time the smile that turned his mouth was genuine. Full of a deep, warm sensuality that she didn’t expect and caught the breath in her throat. “I got that. Believe me, I got that.” The smile faded, but the warmth lingered in his eyes. “Just one night, okay?”

“Just one night,” she echoed.

He stepped back and she closed her legs, shivering a little as he helped smooth her skirt down, then taking her hands and helping her off the table. And he kept hold of them, turning them palm up and kissing each one in a swift motion.

“I have to go. Like I said, I’m late and your … entertainment has made me even later. I’ll text you my details, okay?”

“Okay.”

He released her hands and bent to pick up the papers on the table. Then he turned, and without another word, strode from the room.

Victoria leaned against the table, her legs weak. And smiled.

She didn’t know who’d won this round, but this time she had the oddest feeling that they both had.

Donovan put the cold beer down on one corner of the plans for the docklands estate he had spread out on his coffee table, and looked down at them, frowning.

He’d been fiddling with the plans ever since that exposé had hit the headlines and the Morrow’s gangland past had been splashed all through the media. Jax wanted that past buried and had made it his mission to get rid of those old ties—such as the old Morrow HQ.

But Donovan had never been convinced that was the best course of action. Buried secrets never stayed buried for long, and he’d always been of the opinion that if you had bad shit in your past you acknowledged it, owned it. So no one could use it against you.

It had been a strategy that had worked well in his PR business and he knew it would work here with the land, too. Except Jax had nixed it. Big brother always thought he knew best but big brother was wrong. Big brother needed to damn well listen to him for a change.

Donovan stared down at the plans, at the sketches of a memorial to those who’d died in the gangland wars half a century ago now. And the small museum on the history of the area, including a reconstruction of Morrow HQ as it would have looked during the bad old days. Reminders of a family history steeped in blood. Deliberate reminders because, as the old saying went, those who forgot history were doomed to repeat it.

Neither Jax nor his father seemed to have learned that particular lesson, which meant it was up to Donovan to make them.

Just at that moment his phone, sitting on the table next to him, vibrated. He glanced down at the screen. Speak of the devil. It was a text from Jax.

You closed that deal yet? I wanted it gone this week.

Donovan picked up the phone, debated calling his brother and having it out with him then and there. But no. Victoria would be arriving soon and there was no way he wanted that interrupted.

He texted Jax a response instead.
Talk to you about it tomorrow morning.

It better be good news.
His brother texted back.

Donovan’s smile had nothing to do with amusement as he answered.
Sure. It’s good news.

Because it was good news. He’d be selling that land over his dead body and Jax needed to know. Of course, his brother wouldn’t be happy, but if he forced the issue then Donovan was going to do what he’d told Victoria—he’d threaten to leave Morrow.

He wanted that land. He wanted something of the family’s that was his because, Jesus, after all he’d done for Morrow when his father had run the company, didn’t he deserve it?