My gaze flicks around the shop. It’s busy tonight, and James hasn’t noticed that I’m here yet. My heart slams against my ribs. Walking toward him feels like diving in the deep end without knowing how to swim, but it doesn’t make my steps falter. If anything, I pick up the pace, an odd sense of excitement making me want to find out how far down the water goes.
Angie sees me first, her eyes sparkling as she takes me in. “Hey, girl, look who’s here. Tall, dark, and handsome showed up early.”
James turns toward me and, like a power surge, my body sparks, the electricity from his stare making my hair stand on end.
“Hi.” I smile.
He straightens and moves toward me, close enough to dust a kiss across my cheek. I suck in a breath, the heat of his body sending a shiver down my side. His fingertips trail down my arm as he backs up, and his stare is heavy, stripping me naked with a simple look. A heady sensation grows deep in my belly and settles between my legs.
“Beautiful,” he says.
It’s one word, but it caresses me like velvet, my insides purring at his approval.
“You too.”
He smirks. “You think I’m beautiful?”
His tone is playful, and it ignites that same foreign fire from the first night we met, when I wondered what it would feel like to be a different type of Wendy.
My eyebrow quirks. “What, you think a man can’t have beauty?”
“A man can have many things, darling.” He steps in closer. “But the only beauty I hope to have tonight is yours.”
My stomach flips, butterflies bursting like a cannon. “Your mouth should be illegal,” I mutter. “So… where are you taking me?”
Angie laughs. “Who cares where he’s taking you, girl? Just go.” She makes a shooing motion with her hands.
James glances her way before resting his palm on my lower back. “She’s right, you know. You should relax, let me wine and dine you properly.” He leans in, his lips skimming the top of my ear. “And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll show you the real reason why my mouth should be illegal.”
Heat floods my body, swirling through my insides and pulsing between my legs. I huff out a surprised breath, my fingers pushing against his chest. “That’s extremely presumptuous.”
His eyes sparkle, his hand never leaving my back as he moves me toward the door. “Just letting you know what’s on the menu.”
He leads me outside to a blacked-out Audi. My hand reaches to grasp the handle, but before I can, he’s there, opening the door and helping me in.
My heart skips. Such a simple gesture, but one that makes me feel special. Taken care of.
“I feel like I should be offended,” I say as he slides into the driver’s seat.
He grins, starting the car but leaving it idle as he twists to look at me. “Why?”
“You just told me to be a good girl, and you’d… you know.”
His brow rises. “I’m not sure I do.”
He moves quickly, leaning over the console, his body crowding me until I press back against the seat. He skims his nose up my neck, and my stomach cramps so tight I lose my breath.
“Because I want to put my mouth on you?” His lips dance from my ear down my jaw until they’re hovering above mine.
My heart slams against my chest. I am so out of my element.
“I promise you’d like it,” he whispers.
And just like that, his body heat disappears as he moves to his side of the car and reverses out of the lot.
13
James
I’m taking her to the marina; to my home. I considered a more public outing, but I’ve decided against it, not wanting to take the chance of her father finding out before I’m ready.
I’d like him to know exactly who I am before I pull the rug out from under him.
Luckily, Ru didn’t ask questions, most likely assuming she was something quick for me to enjoy. If he thought about it long enough, he’d realize I’ve never had a random girl in the office, only Moira, and only when I need the release. But people see the world through a personal lens, and sometimes it’s easier to believe what you think is true instead of having to figure out others. Generally, this works in my favor.
Our meeting with Peter is tomorrow, and I’m practically giddy at the thought of meeting him face to face and watching the look in his eyes as we tell him no. He can be a dirty businessman all he wants—in fact, I’m quite sure he’s excelled at the role for many years—but he won’t come into this territory and stake ownership. He’s taken enough from me, I won’t allow him to have this too.
A whiff of vanilla spirals through my nose.
Wendy.
I force a grin, refocusing my attention on her, not wanting to show the violent thoughts running through my head. Surprisingly, I feel no resentment, despite the fact she’s the child of my enemy. In fact, if I think on it long enough, there’s a tendril of something sickly and sweet that winds through my insides, regretful she has to be used this way—as a pawn in a goal much larger than she’ll ever be.
But I’m never one to pass up a golden opportunity, and that’s exactly what she is. A way for me to play with my prey before I end him.
Peter Michaels doesn’t deserve a quick death, he deserves a reckoning.
A realization that he has no friends. No family. No pride. That everything was taken from him; his choices stripped away, and his reality molded into nightmares.
And then I’ll kill him.
We pull into the marina, and before I even have the key out of the ignition, Wendy is reaching for the door. My hand shoots out, wrapping around her wrist. “What’s the rush? Stay still.”
Her eyes widen as she pauses. “Oh, I—”
Releasing her, I slide from the car, walking around to open the passenger door. A spike of arousal flares through me as I gaze down, her chocolate eyes sparkling as she grins up at me, her face level with my groin. Such a pretty position we’re in. I reach my hand out, and she places her palm in mine, my fingers squeezing slightly as I pull her from her spot. As soon as she’s standing, I jerk her forward, her breath whooshing as she stumbles into my frame. “Allow a man to be chivalrous, won’t you?”
Her head dips slightly to rest against my chest before she clears her throat and backs away. She glances around. “Are we going on a boat?”
I smile. “Is that alright?”
Nodding, her fingers twist in front of her. “It’s fine, I just… I don’t do the best on water.”
My hand rests on her lower back as I guide her toward the walkway, past the other boats, where at the last slip my forty-three-meter sailing yacht sits. The Tiger Lily.
“We aren’t taking it anywhere, I just thought we could have dinner somewhere private.”
Sliding my palm around her waist, I help her step from the walkway onto the side deck. I don’t normally bring people to where I live, and definitely never a woman, but I want her to feel special. Different.
“This is yours?” she asks.
Nodding, I follow behind her, the feel of her black dress soft underneath my hand. “It is.”
Sailing yachts are wonderful for a majority of reasons. Luxurious, comfortable, and most importantly, they’re extremely mobile, allowing me to escape to one of my many slips owned around the world if needed.