The Billionaire's Forbidden Desire (19 page)

She considered waiting for him in the car for about a nano-second, then climbed out. The last thing she wanted to do was stay in this concrete, tomb-like place alone. And she had to admit she was curious about his home. Was it as dignified as the family mansion, or was it more contemporary and chic? Maybe it was like an igloo, since he wanted people to think he was cold and unfeeling.

He entered his key code, and the lock mechanism clicked and opened. He went inside and checked an electric panel. “Feel free to look around.” He slipped into a room.

Okay
,
so I’ll look around
. The wraparound floor-to-ceiling glass panes provided a stunning view of the city, just like he had at the office. Buildings shone like jewels while the traffic streaked the dark with bright reds and whites.

The penthouse was mostly a frosty white, with some pale blue and a dark wood that reminded her of teak flooring she’d seen overseas. There was a bare mantle over an unused gas fireplace. An enormous TV occupied most of the wall facing a couple of white leather couches. A series of glass sculptures in various vivid colors sat in niches.

As she leaned closer to examine them, Dane emerged. She almost couldn’t breathe at how amazing he looked. He’d lost his suit jacket and cufflinks; his sleeves were rolled all the way to his elbows. He’d undone a couple of buttons of his shirt, creating a V that framed his throat and chest.

She’d always thought he was way too tempting in the morning, all topless and bare muscles glistening with sweat. But this semi-casual look was even more lethal. She knew exactly what was under the shirt, and her fingers itched to undo the rest of the buttons and push the snowy fabric aside to reveal the entirety of him.

Don’t even go there
. She gestured at the glass pieces. “Original?” she asked, her voice somewhat hoarse.

“Commissioned pieces.” He went to a kitchen that was all fancy stainless steel appliances and marble countertops. “Help yourself to whatever’s in the bar.”

Glad for something to do, she went over and poured herself some cold orange juice.

There was nothing personal about the space other than the sculptures. They were modern, abstract with no discernible, easy-to-describe shape. But they made her feel something—a tight restraint over overwhelming emotions.

Dane checked his oven. “Has it been on all day?” she asked, noticing the light.

“Just for the last twenty minutes or so. I can control it remotely.” He heated a big stainless steel pan on the gas stove and pulled out a package of beef from the fridge. There was also a bottle of wine that he opened and started to decant.

She sipped her juice. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Okay
. “Let me rephrase. I thought you just wanted to pick something up. Why are you cooking? We have a reservation.”

“No, we don’t. I canceled it. I didn’t want to drag you to the oyster house because it’s overly crowded, and the oysters aren’t that good this time of year.”

“Do you need some help?” she asked, even though the only thing she could cook was cheese omelets. Chad had taught her how to make them, saying they were versatile enough to be served as any meal of the day.

A corner of Dane’s mouth lifted. “Don’t worry. I’ve yet to poison anyone.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Medium rare?” he asked.

“Please.”

She took a seat at the big dining table. It was set for two people, with heavy silverware and linen napkins. A clear vase of pale pink roses and baby’s breath occupied the center.

“Nice flowers, but…they don’t seem like your thing.”

“No. But I thought they might be yours.”

Somehow it was the perfect comment, and she found herself relaxing. She pulled out a stem. What
was
it about him that got to her like this? Was it the talk he’d given her about choices? She’d had very little freedom. She’d gone where people had told her to, kept to herself more than she might have because of stalkers. No one, not even Chad, had worried about her prerogatives. As long as she’d skated well, they hadn’t cared.

A sliver of apprehension pierced her heart.
Careful
,
Sophia
. Dane had so much power over her. She didn’t think he would deliberately abuse it, but at the same time he wouldn’t be gentle either. That just…wasn’t his style.

The meat was sizzling on the pan, and Dane checked the timer. “It’s come to my attention that you haven’t finished college.”

Sophia buried her nose in the rose, inhaled its fragrance. “Um…no, I haven’t. Going back to school wasn’t an option. Is that a problem?”

“Could be. I don’t hire dropouts.”

Her mouth dried. She’d asked him to treat her fairly. He might’ve decided that she should have the same qualifications as everyone else at the company.

“Of course, you could finish while working.”

“I plan to go back,” she said quickly.

“When?”

“When I have some money saved and…stuff.” She forced a smile. “I’ll need to transfer.”

The timer beeped, and he flipped the meat. “What’s wrong with your old school?”

“Wasn’t the right program for me. Also, it’s in Seattle.”

She didn’t want to be in the same state as George, much less the same town. She’d assumed he’d given up. Why now…what had changed? She hated how he’d contacted her on the exact same day her stalker had sent flowers. It made her feel doubly vulnerable.

She hugged herself. It was her responsibility to keep herself safe.

Dane looked up from the meat. “Did something happen in Seattle?”

“No.” She forced a smile. “Why would you think that?”

“Because it seems odd to leave the one place where you’re most likely to have friends and people who could help you.”

She shrugged. “I was always at rinks and competitions. Didn’t really spend much time in Seattle.” That was true enough, and she hoped he wouldn’t catch on what hadn’t been said. Dane seemed to have a very accurate internal lie detector.

He put the entire pan in the oven, then brought the bottle of wine over to the table. The label said
Mouton
,
1959
.

“If you want, I can arrange to have you transferred to UCLA. It’s close, and it’s a great school.”

It didn’t seem like he was going to make a big deal about it, and the sense of gratitude that suddenly flooded her gave her pause. “You don’t have to.”

“I know that. But I want to.” He poured the wine into the two glasses set on the table.

“Why? Do you want me to be as employable as possible so you can get rid of me?” she half-joked. If she wasn’t working for him, it might make it easier for him to seduce her.

“I’m not trying to get rid of you. But it’s a good idea to have something other than figure skating on your résumé if you plan to work in the corporate world. College dropouts look sexy if you’re a tech genius, but otherwise they’re pretty pathetic.”

“You’re right. I’ll think about it.” She took one of the glasses and breathed in the wine. “Wow. This is…complex.”

Dane stuck his nose in the glass and inhaled slowly. “There are a lot of elements. Cassis, chocolate…cedar…a hint of flowers.”

She sampled it slowly. She wasn’t too crazy about red wine, but this was excellent, with just the right balance of fruit and spice. “I meant what I said. I plan to move out as soon as I can. I may need help finding a safe apartment, that’s all.”

“I’d be happy to help if you want.” He laid out a basket of bread and grabbed a bowl of salad from the fridge.

“When did you make that?” she asked.

“I didn’t.”

The oven dinged, and Dane went to check up on the meat. Soon he came back with two plates of steak.

He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her mouth. The feel of his lips on hers sent a
zing
through her body. Before she could do more than gasp, he pulled back. “Happy birthday, Sophia.”

He placed a plate in front of her, and she shook herself mentally. “How did you know?” she asked, her voice scratchy.

“The HR file. Surprised you haven’t said anything about it.”

“I didn’t even realize.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “You’re still young enough for birthdays to be special. You just don’t want to remember.”

Wow
.
Talk about hitting the bull’s eye
. “What’s so special about it?” she said, trying to act nonchalant. “Today’s just like any other day.”

The only person who’d ever bothered to remember had been Chad. She’d preferred to focus on her training or something—anything to distract herself on the day that reminded her how insignificant she was to her parents. Competitions always came first, of course, but other skaters at the rink had still gotten presents from their parents or spent time with them. Not her.

She didn’t have to turn on the phone to know Betsy hadn’t bothered with a text.

“Still. Thank you.” She cut into her steak. There wasn’t any fancy sauce, and the seasoning consisted of simple salt and pepper. But the meat was tender and juicy, and nothing got in the way of its natural flavor. “This is excellent.”

“It’s one of the few things I can make well.”

“You don’t strike me as the domestic type.”

“I’m not, but there are times I want to eat alone, and I absolutely despise birthday meals in restaurants.”

She watched him over the rim of her glass. “You don’t like the production. The waiters all singing.”

“If I want to hear people sing something they don’t believe, I prefer to spend my money on people who can sing well.”

“I don’t like it either.”

“Not for the same reasons,” he mused. “I’d say you don’t like the attention.”

Another point for Dane
. “You’re right.”

“It’s a bit surprising, actually.”

“Why?”

“Most women love being in the spotlight. At least for a day.”

“Spotlights are
hot
. And overrated. Might as well tattoo ‘stalk me’ on my forehead.” She knew the price of fame all too well. She took a slow sip of her drink. “It’s interesting how nice and charming you can be.”

“Nice and charming? Oh, good.” Dane actually looked slightly gratified. “I wasn’t sure if I was pulling it off. I never had to be either. Men only care about what I can do for their careers, and women are only interested in what I can buy them. I could look like a cross between Quasimodo and a rabid hyena, and women would still want me.”

His words were flat, almost factual, like he was reading the label of an aspirin bottle. But a corner of his mouth curled, his eyes hooded.

She reached over and held his hand. “I’d treat you the same even if you didn’t have any money at all.”

* * *

Dane looked down. Sophia’s hand was much smaller than his, and much more delicate, but somehow it seemed to be more powerful. “I know.”

What was it about this woman that made him believe? If anybody else had said it, he would’ve laughed in their face for the obvious lie.

He’d never felt any compulsion to go out of his way to care for someone. He’d watched over his siblings because that had been Shirley’s wish. He’d made sure Salazar didn’t kill himself with booze over the divorce because, again, Shirley had wanted it. But he’d never, ever felt the innate need to think of someone until Sophia. Maybe that was the reason he hadn’t been able to shrug it off when Salazar had acted like he and Sophia were an item.

And Dane still didn’t know what to do about the fact that she made him want to be sweeter and gentler, two things he considered pointless and had sworn he’d never be. But when Sophia softened her gaze or held his hand or smiled at him, everything inside him warmed. It wasn’t just sexual—he knew how he felt when he wanted sex. This was far more complex.

He shook himself mentally.

Life was far simpler and easier to compartmentalize when he dealt with facts and numbers. Seeking approval and acceptance from others was the surest way to living in a kind of hell. He’d wasted the first six years of his life on that sort of thing, and he didn’t plan on repeating the mistake.

Suddenly uncomfortable, he put his utensils down. He had finished his steak anyway, and wasn’t interested in the salad. “More wine?”

“Sure.” She smiled. “It’s my birthday. I’ll splurge.”

He poured her another glass. “You should splurge every day. Life’s short.”

“That it is.” She sighed, then took a long swallow of her wine. “This is a perfect birthday dinner. Thank you.”

She leaned over, her mouth about to brush his cheek.
Keep it platonic
, he thought,
just like with the earlier birthday kiss
. He’d told her he’d let her decide.

But he couldn’t resist. He turned and their lips met.

Instead of pulling away, she pressed closer, her flesh soft and sweet. He ran his tongue over her lips, tasting the glorious wine and even more glorious flavor of her.

His heart pounded. He deepened the kiss, and she devoured him back, her mouth turning aggressive on his.

Blood throbbed, a sharp need gripping his entire body.
Jesus
. He needed to rein in the situation before things got out of hand.

“Sophia. Don’t do this if you’re going to regret it tomorrow,” he whispered against her cheek.

She pulled back, her eyes searching his. “Are you going to regret it?”

There were so many reasons why he should. She was his employee, and he never, ever crossed that line. In addition, she was in a vulnerable situation—poor, homeless…no friends she could turn to. Unlike the other women he’d fucked and dumped, Sophia didn’t understand his MO. If he took her again, he’d be responsible for her in ways that he’d never been for anyone else before.

The last thought should’ve killed his libido. The idea of signaling anything even remotely serious and long-term had always made him cut a relationship short. But none of the other women had been Sophia.

“No,” he said.

“Then I won’t regret it either.”

“Thank god you aren’t sensible,” he muttered before reclaiming her luscious lips.

He devoured them, hungry for every inch, all the texture, every taste. Sharp need streaked through him. His senses hyper-focused on her reactions. Her hands clutched him, almost clumsy with desperation.