The Billionaire's Forbidden Desire (29 page)

There was an almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw. If she hadn’t been watching him so closely, she wouldn’t have noticed. She turned away.

He probably thought it was the most ridiculous idea ever, the way her father had. Rick had always said there were better ways to spend money, and it wasn’t on her future rivals. She’d assumed he’d been worried about her, but now she knew better. It had been about maintaining his lifestyle.

“If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”

Her head swiveled Dane’s way. “Really?”

He nodded. “You can oversee the whole thing. I wouldn’t recognize talent or potential. Figure skating isn’t my area.”

If they hadn’t been in a car, she would’ve thrown her arms around him. It was so sweet and unexpected. “Thank you.” She squeezed her hand over his.

“Don’t thank me, Sophia. For anything, ever.”

* * *

Sophia’s eyebrows pinched, and Dane knew he shouldn’t have said that. Thanking each other was a social norm, but fuck social norms. He couldn’t just sit there and listen to her gush over a stupid car.

And if she’d had any idea what getting rid of the Lamborghini
really
meant, she wouldn’t be so happy.

People thought he loved that car. Why wouldn’t they? It was a status symbol. A public statement that “my dick is bigger than your dick.”

But every time he got into it his chest tightened, and his stomach felt like somebody had dropped a nest of angry wasps inside. The red Lamborghini had always reminded him of what he’d done—how stupid he’d been.

Getting rid of it gave him some space away from that nasty feeling. And he didn’t deserve the relief.

“You’ll just have to get used to hearing it,” Sophia said, her voice firm. “I’m not going to turn into some unsociable brat because it suits you.”

“I’m not asking you to be rude to others. Just don’t thank me.”

“You know you’re being really weird, right? Because when I thanked you before, you didn’t object.”

“Things are different now,” he said. “I’m not a stranger you’re imposing on. We’re going to be living together.”

“All the more reason for us to be nice to each other.”

Rolling his eyes, he turned on the radio.

She crossed her arms. “Turning on the radio does not end the discussion in your favor.”

Her sass brought a reluctant smile. The women he used to date would’ve interpreted his order as a carte-blanche invitation to grab whatever they wanted.

He looked at her dress. The color complimented her eyes…but it also looked very new. “Did Salazar buy you that?”

She nodded. “I didn’t have anything to wear. I mean, I have a black dress, but that would’ve been sort of…funereal.”

“When we get home, I want you to sort your things into two piles. Stuff you got from him, and everything else.”

A wary gleam entered her eyes. “Why?”

“I’m going to burn everything he bought you.”

“Dane! That’s such a waste. I haven’t even worn some of the stuff.”

“Then we can donate it to some homeless woman.”

“Is this some kind of father-son pissing contest?” She shook her head. “I know you two have an ugly history, but this is kind of extreme. It’s not like I think about him just because I’m wearing something he bought. I think about you.”

“It’s not that simple. Just do as I say.” Then he added, “Please,” because he had a feeling that the word would persuade her.

Sure enough, she sighed. “Why? Give me one good reason.”

“I don’t want you to owe him anything.”
I don’t want him to provide for you because that’s
my
job
. “He likes to flaunt his money, then act like he’s some great enabler of his children’s success. Did he brag about what he did when we turned twenty-one?”

She shook her head.

“He gave us fifty million bucks each for our twenty-first birthdays. The money was supposedly our legacy, so we could pursue our dreams and be happy.” Dane snorted. “Because money can make up for everything in his world. When I was twenty-one and one day old, I gave mine back to him. I didn’t need it, and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of pretending that he’d done his paternal duty.”

Something shifted in her expression. Maybe it was empathy that softened her face. “Okay. If you feel that strongly, we’ll donate the clothes. I’d hate to…burn them.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh you get to thank me, even though I can’t thank you?”

He didn’t respond. It wasn’t the same thing at all, but he couldn’t explain it to her.

When he’d made the decision that he couldn’t let her be with Salazar, even if things might end badly, he’d also decided that keeping one secret couldn’t be that complicated. But he’d misjudged. It was like a pebble tossed into a lake, creating ripples that affected everything.

It didn’t matter, he told himself. As long as Sophia didn’t know, it didn’t matter.

Sophia and Dane entered his master bedroom suite together. It felt like forever since he’d had her removed from the premises, although it’d really only been three days. Even though she’d been here before, this time felt special, like she was taking a step toward a possibility rather than a brief detour.

The huge walk-in closet was neatly divided into two sections—one for him and one for her. Dane had a surprising number of clothes, most of them business wear: pressed suits and dress shirts and slacks. Whoever had brought her things from the Pryce family mansion had also unpacked for her. His gaze skimmed over her rather meager outfits and four pairs of shoes—flats, heels and sneakers.

“That’s all you have?” he asked, shock heavy in his tone.

She shrugged. “Yup. But it’s really plenty.” Four tops, five skirts, two pairs of slacks plus a black cocktail dress were enough to get her through until she could save some money for shopping.

His jaw slackened. “Did the creditors seize your things, too?”

“No, it wasn’t like that.” The ugliness of her departure from Seattle still had the power to make her heart tighten. “I could only, um, take one bag.” Before he could probe, she added, “It’s not easy to travel with a dog and a lot of suitcases.”

“You need more things.”

“I’m fine.” Not that she disagreed with him. She hadn’t been thinking clearly, and she’d forgotten to pack things she should have in her hurry to get out of the city. But she didn’t have the money to buy anything until she got paid.

He snorted and pulled out his phone. From the arrogant set of his eyebrows and mouth, she knew he was going to ignore her. She put a hand over his mobile.

“Dane, I didn’t agree to do this so you could buy me things. People are probably speculating by now.”

“So? Let them talk.”

“It’ll bother me. If they’re strangers, I would’ve tuned them out, but they’re your family.” Despite what he claimed, he cared about them.

“Fine. What are you going to wear to the opera?”

“What opera?”

“I have two tickets. Opening night.”

She stepped back and regarded him. “Do you even like the opera?”

The smile he gave her was positively angelic. “I
love
the opera.”

Like anyone was going to believe that. She didn’t think he had any tickets either. But he might get a pair just to make a point.

And unfortunately, she didn’t have anything that would be suitable, especially for an opening night. He’d undoubtedly put on a tux.

“Thought so,” Dane said after a moment of silence. He lifted the phone and dialed. “Josephine. Can you spare about four hours tomorrow? Uh-huh. I know you have the time. Whatever you want. Of course. Excellent…”

While he made the arrangements, Sophia looked around the penthouse, trying to conceal her unease. She’d have to ask Josephine to stick to a realistic budget, so she could pay Dane back later. “Where’s Roco?” she said when Dane was finished.

“I don’t know.” He checked his phone. His eyebrows snapped into a deep V. “Al says he’s staying at the mansion overnight. He’s been a bit fussy and difficult while you were gone, and Al wanted to keep him overnight. Is that acceptable?”

“Sure. I’ll go get him tomorrow.”

“No need. Al’ll have him delivered.” She opened her mouth, and he put a finger over it. “Don’t argue.”

The doorbell rang, and he tapped his phone. The door clicked open.

A uniformed deliveryman came in with two large insulated chests and put them next to the dining table. Sophia watched in mild disbelief as he laid out lobster, ravioli, salad and three different desserts—tiramisu, pecan pie and vanilla chiffon cake. He also pulled out a bottle of chilled white wine.

“Is there anything else you need, sir?”

“No, thank you.” Dane scrawled his signature on a slip, and the man left.

She stared at the stuff on the table. “When did you have time to order all this?”

“Before we left the grove. Thought you might be tired and want to stay in. Unless you want to go out.”

And here she’d thought she’d done a good job of masking her fatigue. “No. Let’s stay in.”

Dane pulled out a chair for her and uncorked the wine. “How’s your hip?” he asked as he poured a glass for her and took his seat.

It had been throbbing for a while, but she didn’t want to dwell on it. It was nothing a warm soak couldn’t fix. “It’s fine.” She stuffed ravioli into her mouth, not wanting to talk about it. The complex flavor of creamy sauce and cheesy mushroom stuffing burst on her tongue, making her close her eyes briefly in appreciation.

Dane, however, remained undeterred. “Sophia. Full truth.”

“It’s really not that bad. A heat pack should take care of it.”

His fork and knife went still. Regret and something else far too complex to decipher flitted-through his gaze.

She reached out and patted his hand. “I was lucky. I could’ve been limping or worse. But look at me. Nobody can tell I even had an accident.”

He glanced away, then got up and poured a scotch. She noticed he always reached for the drink whenever he was upset or needed to stay calm.

Why did it bother him so much? Most people didn’t care that much about her injuries. The only person who felt deeply about them was Chad, but he considered himself partially responsible for what had happened to her. He thought he should’ve stayed behind and driven her to the airport. But that was nonsense. His sister had just been diagnosed with breast cancer, and she’d needed him. He’d had to leave on the earliest flight out of Paris. Sophia could never be upset over something like that.

She didn’t want to dwell on her achy joints and ruin the moment. Pasting on a smile, she gestured at the dessert. “I want one of each.”

“That’s more than the entrée.”

“What are you implying?” She patted her belly.

Finally, a small smile. “You can have as much as you want.” He got up. “I’ll start the bath for you.”

* * *

Dane had to leave before he said something stupid to tip her off. After dumping some bath salts in the huge tub, he ran the hot water and perched on the edge.

His eyes focused on a spot far beyond the mirror as something he’d read some years ago surfaced in his mind:
Kindness is the beginning of cruelty
. He’d thought the sentence apt, smugly confident that he knew its full epigrammatic meaning. He’d seen it growing up in his family, but what Sophia was doing was a million times worse because she didn’t have any ill intent. He hated himself for keeping quiet while listening to her trying to console him over her achy hip.

Brutal honesty had always been the foundation of how he dealt with everything and everyone. It saved tremendous amounts of time and angst. It also ensured he never wasted any mental energy on pleasing his father.

But honesty was the one thing that would put disgust and contempt in Sophia’s eyes when she looked at him.

He’d never cared what people thought of him…until her.

Call it whatever you like
,
you’re in love with her
.

He gripped the edge of the tub and closed his eyes. Why couldn’t he have fallen for one of the blondes he’d dated? It would’ve been so…uncomplicated. He would’ve been able to go on as before.

Then he felt Sophia’s hand on his head, pulling him close. He inhaled her sweet scent and pressed his face against her chest.

“Come join me,” she said.

He didn’t have to open his eyes to know she was naked. Want thickened his blood, the frustrated, frustrating need from the night before pounding through him.

He stripped down, flinging his clothes on the floor.

She sank into the steaming water and let out a soft sigh. “Just perfect,” she murmured, her eyes on him.

He settled down on the other side of the tub and found her foot under the water. Heat flushed her cheeks and creamy breasts. Unlike before she didn’t protest, and he gently massaged the sole. How could she think anything attached to her wasn’t beautiful?

Objectively speaking, her feet did show abuse. They weren’t the softest or the smoothest. But they were more amazing for the marks they bore—the way an old Stradivarius was incredible compared to a shiny violin that had never left its velvet-lined case.

She moaned when he found a knot and worked it, then moved to the other foot. Meticulously and with care, he ran his hands over all of her slick legs. She spread them wider as he came closer to her thighs. Her eyes darkened with desire.

“Dane.”

He put his hands on her hips and flexed. “Tell me where it hurts.”

Her throat worked. “Not hurt. Empty.” She took his hand and put it between her legs.

Fiery need slammed through him. Damn, she was so hot, so slick.

Under the water, hidden from view, his fingers explored her most intimate architecture. She let out a soft cry, and he covered her mouth with his.

He wanted everything she had to give, to store it in his memory forever, so he would never, ever forget what she was like in a moment like this.

She parted her lips, and his tongue slipped inside. She met him boldly, their tongues probing and fencing for every texture, every taste. Her delicate hands covered his chest. She pinched his small, flat nipples. He groaned and felt her mouth curve underneath his.