The Billionaire's Forbidden Desire (11 page)

She laughed as they walked up to the mansion. Al greeted them at the door, crisp in his suit despite the late hour. Maybe the man was some kind of cyborg that didn’t need to sleep or rest.

“Your suite is ready. I had the housekeeper unpack your things. Also, your dog has been walked and brought in for the evening.”

“Thank you,” Sophia said, slightly stunned.

She said goodnight to Salazar and let Al lead her down a long corridor. Oil portraits of men and women looked down at her from the cream and sage walls. Every alcove had a giant vase with fresh flowers.

Al finally stopped and opened double doors made of pale wood. Sophia gaped at the sumptuously appointed room.

“Will this be satisfactory?”

“It’s…gorgeous.”

“Your dog is in a special nook I prepared for him. I hope that’s acceptable.”

“Thank you. You’ve thought of everything.”

“He deserves his own place.” Al’s tone was as placid as an autumn lake. “If you need anything else, please let me know. I took the liberty of stocking some toiletries for you. They’re Miss Vanessa’s favorites.”

“Vanessa?” The name sounded familiar, but Sophia couldn’t place it.

“Mr. Pryce’s daughter,” the butler said, face completely impassive. “If that’s all, I shall bid you good night.”

Sophia murmured a good night. The doors shut silently behind her.

Her suite looked like something out of a fairy princess’s castle. The hardwood floor gleamed with a fresh coat of wax, and the ceiling fans spun lazily. Pale cream and gold paper covered the walls, and a few rugs lay on the floor in a seemingly careless fashion. The only thing that took away from the effect were a few oddly ugly paintings, but Sophia shrugged it off. Maybe they had been gifts from a relative or something.

A canopy made entirely of gold, pink and lavender lace covered a huge bed in the center, and a cream-colored love seat and a matching armchair occupied the living room. The bathroom had a sparkling Jacuzzi bath and a multi-head shower and double vanity. It was better than any hotel she’d ever stayed at.

Roco let out a soft sleepy yip, wagging his tail. Al had set him up with a small doggie bed in a corner of the living room where, amazingly enough, Roco seemed content to stay. Maybe the house and its staff intimidated even her incorrigible dog. Sophia bit her lower lip. She hoped the bed was something that the family had used for a previous pet, but it looked brand new.

“This is all entirely too generous, isn’t it?” she said to Roco as she undid the clasp on the choker. She stared at the gorgeous piece. Dane had been upset at seeing her at the charity event, but the pearls had somehow tipped him over the edge. She palmed the cool strands and studied them. There were small initials, S J P, on one of the platinum links in front.

The P must have stood for Pryce, but she didn’t know what the S was for. She was certain it wasn’t Salazar.

Another mystery about Dane, but she didn’t dare ask anyone directly. As nice as Salazar was, she’d sensed tension between him and Dane. He’d want to know why she was curious, and she didn’t want to tell him about Dane’s reaction to the choker. Al was out of the question. Even though she was certain he knew, he was loyal to Salazar. She didn’t want to put him in an awkward situation or make him think she was being nosy. He probably didn’t know the history between her and Dane, and she didn’t want to have to tell him.

Shaking her head, she put the choker into an ornate white jewelry box on the vanity. Her instincts had been right. Staying at Salazar’s house was a mistake. Thank god it was temporary.

She took off her dress and hung it in the huge walk-in closet. The housekeeper hadn’t just unpacked her things. Everything was laundered and pressed.

Sophia tossed her panties into the laundry basket and threw herself on the bed. Her skin was so sensitized even the five hundred thread-count sheets felt coarse. Sexual frustration simmered as she lay in the dark, unable to sleep. At this rate, she might never get any rest.

But why suffer when she could take the matter into her own hands…literally?

She moved her hands over her body, cupping her small breasts. Closing her eyes, she tweaked her nipples, gasped as pleasure rippled outward. Slowly she dragged one hand down until it hit the flesh between her legs. She stroked her moist folds. A warm tingling sensation curled in her belly and spread to her limbs, but it wasn’t enough to get her off. She needed something more.

Her mind focused on Dane. The spicy scent of him, the heady taste of him mingled with a hint of champagne. He’d been incredibly magnetic three years ago. He was more dangerous now but at the same time more thrilling and irresistible. His unpredictable actions made her unable to gauge him, and she couldn’t fully figure out what he wanted with her.

He wants your body for sure
.
He was rock hard against you
.

She held her breast in her hand the way he’d held it—firm and confident with just the right amount of pressure. Her thumb brushed over the tip, then she rolled the tight peak between her fingers. A moan rose up in her throat, and she swallowed it.

She remembered how his hand had felt between her legs earlier. He’d teased her, running his knuckles along her clit and folds as though he was waking her senses, readying them for the ecstasy only he could give. She did the same to herself now, even though her senses were already quivering, ready to go.

Tell me what you want
, he’d demanded as he dipped his finger in and out of her, the penetration shallow and frustrating but also unbelievably pleasurable.

She’d wanted him to plunge his fingers into her, fuck her with his hand in the garden, even though anybody could’ve walked in and discovered them in the compromising position. Then, as her orgasm built, she’d bury her face against his neck and scream against his bare skin. It would muffle the sound, but he’d know how hot she was from the strong vibration, the desperate, rough breathing.

Her fingers thrust in and out of her, her pelvis moving in sync. She was so close, so close.

She imagined Dane driving into her, his thick length unforgiving and relentless, his hips grinding against hers and bumping into her clit—

Her pleasure crested and she bit her lower lip, arching her back, trying not to make any sound.

By the time her breathing returned to normal, her body felt like warm wax, soft and pliant. Just as she was about to drift off, the memory of the blonde slipped into her mind. Sophia scowled. Dane had undoubtedly gone home with his date. By now they were probably done screwing each other’s brains out.

Damn it
.

Bitterness tightened her muscles, and Sophia let out a frustrated growl. So what if she’d been pathetic enough to masturbate to a man who didn’t want her anymore? Given how badly her life had gone in the last few months, this was nothing. There was no physical danger. Nobody had to know but her, so there wasn’t even public humiliation. People masturbated to improbable fantasies all the time.

Still, her heart felt heavy and off-kilter. And she hated herself for letting Dane affect her like this.

* * *

Over an hour of hard running didn’t do anything to lessen the horrible restlessness riding Dane. Finished, he stood in front of his penthouse window, wiped the sweat off his face and torso with disgust and swigged a sports drink. The city glittered on the other side of the glass—a pretty, sparkling veneer without substance.

He’d started running as a kind of therapy after the accident in Paris. It helped him chase away the nasty memories—the horrible sound of metal crashing into metal and the smell of blood and burnt rubber.

Shirley had said the victims were given five million dollars.
Five million
. A life-changing amount, far too much for a mere accident. Dane had never tried to find out what had happened to them that would warrant such a payment. He’d been too afraid to ask. Still was.

Now that visions of Sophia and Salazar had entered the toxic attic of his brain, running until his leg muscles were about to explode didn’t do the trick anymore.

Maybe he should try smashing his head against the wall a few times, see if that would help him forget. Inducing amnesia seemed like a great idea.

But given his luck, he’d probably forget everything but the shit he didn’t want to remember.

His mobile vibrated on the counter. Dane glared at it. Who could be calling? It was already well past one.

His eyebrows pinched together when he saw his father’s name on the screen. Why the hell was he calling instead of doing what he did best with Sophia?

To gloat
,
undoubtedly
.

Despite his better judgment, Dane set it on speaker. “What do you want?”

“I’m firing Kim,” Salazar said without a preamble.

That made Dane pause. His father only hired the prettiest girls he could find as assistants, regardless of their suitability, then let them go after a few months so that, having gotten to know the women, he could fuck them without worrying about sexual harassment lawsuits. Dane considered that to be the height of stupidity, but so far it’d worked for Salazar.

But Kimberly Sanford was different. She’d lasted for years despite the fact that she was objectively hot, and that meant the woman had to be damn good at her job. And she’d never struck Dane as the type to succumb to Salazar’s charm.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I want you to hire her,” Salazar said like it was the most obvious thing.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you got rid of your assistant. Kim’s good at her job, and it’d be a shame to put her on unemployment.”

“Then don’t fire her.”

“Have to. I told somebody else I’d give her a job.”

“Really?” Dane’s mouth twisted into an ugly smile. It was probably some dumb but pretty bimbo who couldn’t type her name without breaking her fingernails. “Before or after you slept with her?”

“Don’t be crude.”

“I learned from the best. Who’s going to be your new assistant?”

“Sophia.”

The sports drink bottle crunched as Dane clenched his hand.

“What was that?” Salazar asked.

Dane ignored his father. “Is she actually any good?”

“No idea. But who cares? She said she wanted a job.”

Wanted a job, did she? For what? If she became the second Mrs. Salazar Pryce, she wouldn’t need to work. His father had more money than Rick Reed had ever dreamed of. “Why does she want to work?”

“Why does anybody work? Boredom? Shits and giggles?”

“Instead of playing musical jobs, it might be better if I just hired Sophia directly.”

“So you can scare the shit out of her like you do with all your assistants? Or is it because you want to fuck her?”

“Unlike you, I don’t fuck my employees, terminated or otherwise.”

“Ah, but you want to. I saw the way you were looking at her.”

Dane breathed deeply, controlling his temper.

“Too bad she came home with me.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Just letting you know I took your advice about sleeping with pretty young things very seriously. Because you were right. It’s just the thing to get me out of my funk.” A short pause and a smug chuckle. “What does it feel like to want my leftovers?”

Fury seared through Dane—his whole body throbbed with it.
You’re with
my
fucking leftovers
was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. It would’ve been satisfying for him, but Sophia…

Shit. He didn’t even know why he gave a damn about her. He’d warned her, but she’d made her choice clear by going home with his father, hadn’t she?

Salazar laughed. “I’m sending her tomorrow at eleven. She doesn’t have a résumé, but I guess you’ll do what you need to do. By the way… This is how you continue a game nobody else wants to play.” He hung up.

Dane threw the empty bottle at the wall. If Salazar hadn’t been his father…if Shirley hadn’t asked Dane to keep an eye on him, he would’ve destroyed the son of a bitch.

Just because Sophia had given him her virginity didn’t mean Dane should let his dick do all the thinking.
Somebody
was going to be her first, and it had just happened to be him. It didn’t mean anything.

Sophia could come work for him, and he’d make sure she quit in tears, or better yet fled the damn state.

Despite the late night, Sophia got up at seven sharp. It was an old habit—one that she could never seem to shake off.

After showering and getting dressed for the day, she took Roco for his morning walk. He enjoyed exploring the new area. The garden was much bigger than she’d expected. It was more like a small forest, complete with its own little pond and tennis courts.

Despite its size and display of wealth, the Pryce family mansion didn’t have the flashy veneer of nouveau Hollywood money. It might have been the landscaping and architecture, but the place felt…dignified. If it were a person, it would have been the sort who kept their chin raised and upper lip stiff no matter what.

When Sophia came back to the house, a uniformed housekeeper said, “Good morning, miss. Your breakfast is ready.” She looked down at Roco. “And his too, although it’s in the kitchen. I’ll take him.”

“Thank you,” she said, surprised. Her family had never been waited on hand and foot.

The breakfast room was made of glass walls that let the sun pour in. Oblong, sand-colored tiles formed interesting patterns on the floor. A blue crystal vase full of freshly cut tiger lilies sat in the middle of a round table large enough to seat ten. Oddly enough, there were only two chairs. Salazar was already in one, going through some newspapers.

“Did you sleep well?” Salazar said, snapping the gray sheets closed and putting them next to his coffee cup.

“I did, thanks.” Before she could move, Al appeared and pulled out the remaining chair for her. He then produced a silver tray with eggs, bacon, toast and chunks of fruit.

“Help yourself,” Salazar said. “And if you want anything else, just say the word.”

“No, it’s…more than enough.”