Prologue
She was beautiful, stunning in every movement, every sweep of her hand through her long, dark hair calling out the beast dwelling within.
Some might consider me a true monster, a demon lurking in the shadows, yet I was very much a man consumed with need.
For her.
In the quiet of the room, her breathing was the only sound that mattered. Without the sharp wit and guarded glances she wore like armor during the day, she looked entirely defenseless. A stray lock of hair had fallen across her cheek. I resisted the urge to brush it away, terrified that even the lightest touch might pull her back into the harsh reality of the waking world. For now, she was safe, and I was content to keep watch.
Just as I’d done before, only tonight was even more special.
I stood at the foot of her bed, absorbing her sweet perfume, the intoxicating scent derailing my thoughts, my needs. My conscience.
The moonlight cut a silver path across the bed, highlighting the faint slope of her nose and the soft curve of her jaw. I’d seen her dozens of times, yet watching her sleep always felt like discovering a secret.
We’d shared the same space, enjoying a dance. A drink. Time spent together.
We’d touched. We’d tasted.
Heated kisses captivating the moment.
Rough embraces forming a deep bond, a connection unlike any other.
We’d shared in our insatiable need for the other. All under the guise of passion.
But I wanted more. No, I needed everything. All of her.
Was this love? How the hell would I know? What I did know was that the hunger to possess was stronger than ever before. And the only thing surfacing from the deepest moments of anguish and need so intense I couldn’t breathe was a single word.
Mine.
She twitched slightly, murmuring something incoherent into her pillow before settling back into the soft sheets. A quiet warmth settled in my chest. It was a rare, unfiltered view of the person she was when nobody else was looking.
And in my mind, she was perfect.
Every action she took was with purpose, every challenge made done without reservation. One of the many aspects of her personality that I adored.
And soon, she truly would become mine. All mine. There’d be no more reservations, no guarded times spent or anxiety concerning me. As if there ever was.
In truth, she’d become mine the moment I’d laid eyes on her, even if she’d yet to comprehend how important she’d become.
With her soft murmurs continuing, she shifted under the covers, the sheet sliding ever so slowly toward the floor. Seeing her wearing only a tank top and panties, I was drawn to her in a way that couldn’t be explained, possessive to a point of losing all sense of control.
She was my everything.
The sunlight in the morning, the air I breathed, and I’d maintained control until the timing was right.
But fractures had developed, the ache felt so deep threatening to overwhelm me.
I moved closer, the taste of her sweet lips lingering in my mouth. While indulging in studying the dance of moonlight shimmering against her soft skin, my cock ached, twitching from desire. As her eyelids fluttered, I curled my fingers and brushed them across her cheek.
She looked fragile, almost impossibly soft, and a sudden, fierce need to protect her tightened in my chest. While holding my breath, I trailed a line down her arm, moving toward the deep V of her top. Without hesitation, I rolled the tip of my index finger around the outline of her nipple, careful not to awaken her.
All while keeping my eyes pinned on her reaction. She shifted again, her fingers tightening around the pillowcase as she shifted her legs, finally bending one knee and spreading her long legs apart. She was wet, her panties soaked from the same desire spilling through her.
My breath hitched, the longing reaching a crashing level that wasn’t like me and never had been. I studied her face before being unable to resist. My control was slipping. I moved to the side of the bed, fighting urges that would shatter the connection we shared.
Yet there was no chance of ignoring my desire.
With a single finger, I rolled it up and down her pussy, challenging myself to maintain control. Around her doing so had become close to impossible.
With a soft moan, she dug her heel into the sheet, writhing from the single touch. Even another light brush and I’d risk awakening her. I brought my finger under my nose, inhaling deeply.
Sweet and pungent at the same time.
A daring move, defying the promise made to myself, but necessary to keep hold on my sanity. I could easily slip between her legs, ripping away the thin lace and satisfying the brutality of a yearning keeping me in pain. But in a moment of self-control, I chose otherwise, pulling the sheet over her. Just a layer of protection from the monster standing over her.
As I backed away into the shadows, I fought a gripping intensity, a need so powerful I hesitated.
However, I turned away, burning with the knowledge the game would soon reach a conclusion.
Then she would truly be mine.
Not just for a tormented night or a few days of sacrificial satisfaction, but forever.
Death the only demon capable of tearing us apart.
Chapter One
Christian
“What a fucking incredible day.” Brandon stood with his hands wrapped around the railing, enjoying the sea spray as I circled the perfect location, slowing the boat to anchor. “God, I love this part of the country.”
I cut the engine, allowing the boat to drift softly and slowly in the slightly turbulent water. We were several miles off the coast in a pristine location where larger fish and other sea creatures thrived.
The water was slightly murky from the night’s storm, yet it was a perfect fishing day.
Depending on what kind of marine life you preferred.
I preferred mine skewered and ripped apart.
With a deep breath, I left the captain’s chair, grabbing my glass and heading toward the stern.
The Scout 420 was a recent purchase, the luxurious fishing boat easy to operate, sporting an air-conditioned cabin with all the amenities.
I was no stranger to playing captain, taking the helm of my father’s boat when I was nine. Another rite of passage, another test that his two children had been required to pass.
The reason?
One never knew when a boat would become the perfect business tool. What executive didn’t enjoy spending a day on the open sea, provided with every luxury available? They usually let their guards down, feeling safe on the open water.
Little did they understand the dangers hiding just below the surface.
Not that I gave a shit. He’d made his choice, which of course had been the wrong one. Time to experience the consequences.
Most would say my friend and trusted employee Brandon Marks deserved all the perks of working for me for over ten years. True, at least until recently. He’d been hired by my father, his expertise in keeping our massive high-end computer systems operational well worth his salary and perks. So I’d flown him to South Carolina on my jet, a reward for all his hard work. I had a boat secured in the Isle of Palms, a place I liked to escape to whenever possible.
I liked to think of myself as a generous person, always searching for ways to improve my leadership position. This was one of them. Besides, the poor man had no family, Tempest International considered his home more than the modest three-bedroom Victorian he owned in the heart of downtown St. Louis.
He lived frugally, keeping the money earned in safe stocks and bonds. From what I’d been able to decipher, his only luxury was a classic 1965 Ford Mustang Shelby GT. He considered it his baby, driving it approximately ten miles every week, keeping it under tight climate control with heavy security, babying it will all the love and attention required for such an impressive investment.
Plus, he enjoyed a decent scotch even on warm, humid days.
So did I.
Case in point. I moved toward him with the bottle of Macallan in hand. “There is nothing as exquisite as watching the sun rise over the ocean on a beautiful sunny June day.” My words were met with a series of nods as he continued staring across the horizon.
“We’re very lucky to call Louisville our home, but this is a taste of paradise.”
Was he trying to convince me?
He finally realized I was standing right beside him and held out his glass. Yet in doing so and being so close, I noticed a single twitch in the corner of his mouth.
By traditional standards, the nervous gesture wouldn’t mean a single thing other than maybe tension from a difficult night’s sleep or anxiety about an occurrence in his personal life.
Except I’d flown him first class, allowing him to enjoy lobster and steak and other delicacies on the plane.
Only I knew exactly what he was experiencing, the heightened level of tension that had already furrowed inside his mind like a flesh-eating worm. Soon it would manifest in sweat across the back of his neck and perhaps on his upper lip.
But then, his armpits would be stained, his stench of fear capable of rivaling the heavy salt of the ocean.
I certainly wasn’t doing anything to drive his level of anxiety to the breaking point. There was no need. In fact, I liked to think of myself as a consummate host.
“Yes, we are,” I agreed before returning the bottle to the cooler. “This is the perfect fishing spot as well.”
“Oh, yeah?” He twisted his head as I sat down on one of the upholstered benches, crossing one leg over the over. “It’s been a long time since I went fishing.” His laugh was wrapped around a memory. I studied his facial expressions as his mind shifted gears, moving through time until he secured the perfect series of images.
“Your father?”
He half chuckled. “My dad was a son of a bitch, but when he was out on the ocean, he was entirely different. For a few hours, he was the greatest dad in the world. The best memories when few exist.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
His shrug was filled with pain, which could under some circumstances allow me to feel bad for him. This wasn’t one of those times. “We can’t pick our families, now can we?” His hand was trembling just enough that I noticed. Some might allow themselves to believe the slight action was caused by the swell of waves shifting the boat back and forth.
I knew better.
“No, we cannot.”
“How is your dad since retirement?” His question was laced with true curiosity. Their friendship, much like my relationship with my father had been arguably toxic. My father could easily fly off the handle for the smallest infractions.
My laugh was genuine. Men like Markham Tempest never fully retired. They simply played armchair quarterback when they found it convenient to do so.
“He doesn’t like to sit still. He’s currently somewhere in Malaysia.” I didn’t add with a new girlfriend. I could no longer keep track. A bitter taste formed in my mouth no amount of scotch could disguise.
“That’s what happens when you get older. Tell him I said hello. We had some good times together. He was a tough man, but fair.”
“Yes,” I agreed, although he’d never truly faced the full effect of my father’s rage. “You did. However, you only witnessed one side of him. Not the side where he exacted strict discipline on his two children, treating them as cadets in some unseen army.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied me. “I didn’t know.”
Of course he knew. “Yeah, well, he preferred keeping all the dirty little family secrets locked away. I will say one thing.” I stopped and enjoyed a gulp of scotch. Smooth yet tangy. A perfect combination for the day and the task I was about to perform. “His life lessons, while both Kingston and I hated them and the man doling them out, have certainly been helpful over the years.”
“Your father is highly intelligent and certainly had every reason to be proud of his two sons.”
“Yes, he’s highly intelligent. And very astute, which he also passed onto both sons. Grab the fishing rod.”
I leaned back in the seat, lifting my head toward the sun. It was turning out to be a glorious day.
He did as I asked and by his actions, including with baiting the lure, I could tell he’d done this before. Then he should know what to expect. I would give him credit. He’d managed to stop two highly intrusive cyber-attacks almost immediately after he’d come on board, which had earned him a hefty bonus. I’d been working in the accounting department at the time, my father insisting I learn how to spot disruptions in case something of that caliber had ever appeared again.
I’d become fascinated by the skills needed by hackers, studying their successes and failures. Almost always the most significant failures could be traced to one flaw, one single weakness that everyone had buried deep inside and given the right opportunity brought to the surface.
Greed.
With the newer state of the art system installed mere months after, my father had breathed a sigh of relief, able to sleep more easily at night.
That was something I hadn’t gained from my father. I rarely slept.
“I understand there will be a software update at the end of the week.” I swirled the liquid in my glass.
He cast the line and took a deep breath. “Don’t worry, Christian. There are no issues, just yearly maintenance.”
“Mmm…” I allowed him to enjoy the moment, including sucking down most of his drink. “Fascinating, Brandon, given an update occurred less than three months ago. I’m curious. Did you find bugs in the system?”
This time he barely glanced in my direction. “I did. Unfortunately, hackers are switching methodologies, becoming much more tenacious.”
“Understood. When I was a kid, I never realized how competitive the hospitality and real estate industries were. I’d thought my father was just in charge of a bunch of fancy hotels. Little did I know the amount of money and responsibility involved. Let alone how much power he wielded across the world.”
“He is still a formidable man.”
I stood, moving closer to the back platform. “You have no idea. Did you know when my father purchased the failing little hospitality company, he did so with retirement savings from his previous career?”
“That I didn’t know. Markham never mentioned what he’d done previously.”
“He was cautious about telling just anyone, keeping his oath of honor to a man even more powerful than himself. It was a very strange transition, done upon the insistence of my mother after my younger brother was born. It took him a few years to make the move, but he honored her request.”
He seemed elated the moment something was snagged on the line and frantically began to reel it in. “What was the career?”
I took a minute before answering him, but did so as if matter of fact. “He was the former lieutenant to the Carpella Crime Syndicate family. From what I understand, he was the Don’s closest and most trusted friend. Pops had a reputation as being a bloodthirsty man. Now, I realize he was never father of the year, but I was gifted the opportunity to see him in action on two very distinct occasions. And I do call the incident gifts. He even required me to participate at times.”
There was no doubt poor Brandon was sweating like a pig. I was curious if he thought I was merely telling him a story.
I wasn’t.
“What?”
That was all the man could manage after what I’d admitted? No one in the company knew about my father’s less scrupulous beginnings. If you searched hard enough, you could find accusations of a connection with Carpella, but there’d never been any photographs of the two of them together and no arrests made.
My father had never left any evidence behind, which was one of several reasons he was considered part of the Carpella family.
“My father had a way of handling issues that was envied by other crime syndicates throughout the country. Perhaps the world. He was clever, creative in his methods of torture, and highly efficient. He could smell treachery for the organization even before the Don had any idea there was an issue. All of what I mentioned was something he also instilled in his offspring.”
Brandon had forgone bothering to reel in his prize. He also wasn’t looking at me, just standing trembling while the heavy breeze blew him back and forth on the deck.
For the first time in a while, I felt alive.
“Now, he didn’t want his sons directly connected with any mafia organization. He told us participating would shorten our lives, which was why Tempest became so important.”
“I can understand,” he managed, his voice now unrecognizable.
“I guess you could say I was very lucky in having a brutal father,” I continued. “It took me many years to even consider the possibility his lack of empathy and constant demands of his children would provide such a fertile understanding of how business should be run and the treachery I’d face.”
I lifted my glass as if toasting my father. While I did respect the man, perhaps even loving him in my own way, my life had been altered forever because of his own issues with greed.
Only his weakness had never been about money or power, but about exacting revenge.
In turn, just by reputation he’d gained dozens of enemies. One of them had destroyed my life. For that alone, I’d never forgive my father.
Even if I was one of the richest men in the world.
“I’m very much like my father, Brandon. Something else until recently I’d been determined never to admit. Not only do I have his eyes and angular jaw, and his work ethic. I also have an innate need to control all those around me and punish anyone who dares defy me.” I polished off my drink, chuckling as soon as I swallowed.
I also took my time placing the glass on one of the tables, staring at the dense crystal as if taking my time to make a decision.
Which wasn’t true.
The bastard’s fate had been sealed the minute I’d determined he’d betrayed me and his old buddy, my father. How I was different from my father was in how I doled out punishment.
Maybe I had a penchant for drama, but I’d found I enjoyed the stench of fear almost as much as the act of revenge itself.
“And no,” I continued. “We are not considered a mafia family, Brandon. In fact, we are much… much more dangerous.”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Christian.”
“Yes, you do, Brandon. I certainly don’t take you for a stupid man. Foolish but not stupid. It took me a couple weeks of beating my head against the wall to figure out how the information had leaked. Financials. Upcoming contracts. Even bid numbers that had yet to be released. I don’t need to tell you how vital it is in our business to keep details of an upcoming bidding war secret. In this case, two. Or perhaps more.” I shook my head and rubbed the scruff on my jaw. Damn, I needed a shave. “It would seem my hacker skills are rusty.”
He said nothing, not even in his defense.
I laughed and while this was all nothing more than a game, the tone was laced with bitterness. Trust was earned and the worst thing anyone could do was betray me or my family’s legacy.
“Given access had already been limited to my brother, myself, and my assistant, you can imagine what I’d endured for a full day. My sweet assistant has no understanding how close she came to losing her life.”
That wasn’t true. Maybe my dramatics were being a little overplayed. But I did love to see him sweat.
“Anyway, with my knowledge of the system that you helped supply when I was in my early twenties, I finally determined the source. I admit, Brandon. The way you covered your tracks was brilliant. You missed your calling as a hacker, which if I’d known your level of expertise, I would have exploited. The only mistake you made was in not covering up your tracks well enough in creating an offshore bank account where someone deposited two million dollars in funds. While I’m aware the party depositing the funds is hiding behind a shell corporation, it’s only a matter of time before I discover who is behind Southshore Limited.”
Brandon’s body was now shaking violently. “I can explain.”
“I’m certain you can,” I told him as I retrieved my weapon. “But here’s the truth. I’m just not interested in hearing whatever it is you have to say. I thought that knowing how my father handled traitors within his organization, you’d know not to fuck with me. I guess I was wrong. I assure you I won’t make that mistake again.”
Pop!
His yelp of anguish was followed by a moment of shock as the force pitched him forward onto the platform before dumping him into the water. Almost immediately, he began to flail, which of course created a surge in his blood pressure, thereby pumping blood from the leg injury into the water.
I wasn’t interested in even the remote possibility of him being rescued. Yes, I could have simply ended his life, attaching a cinder block to his ankle and tossing him to the depths below. But what fun would that have been?
I’d enjoyed the art of playing the game more than the outcome itself over the years. This was no different than the salacious games played in college with my buddies.
Classic warfare.
I’d praised his work, lured him in for a prize.
Made him feel comfortable while assessing the situation.
Then struck when the time was right.
Actually, this game had been beneath my skill level, but there was much more at stake than when I’d been twenty-one.
Plus, Brandon’s acts of espionage could cost Tempest International billions if not handled appropriately.
The anger I’d managed to keep locked away for the duration finally surfaced when grabbing the buckets of chum I’d stored down below.
He’d dared try to climb on board, which forced me to plant my foot against his face, kicking him backward.
Brandon popped right back to the surface, his eyes filled with horror. “Please, Christian. Please. I had no choice.”
According to the few bastards I’d personally dealt with in my career, you’d think no one ever had a choice. Bullshit.
I tossed the chum into the water, not bothering to save the buckets.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Brandon. Every single person alive has a choice. You just made the wrong one.”
Turning away, I headed back to the captain’s chair and started the engine. Just as I pulled away, I swung my head over my shoulder.
The sharks were already circling.
Chapter Two
Penelope
“Don’t forget, baby girl, that you can do anything you set your mind to.”
“Oh, Daddy. Don’t leave me.”
With tears in his eyes, he managed to squeeze my hand. The once powerful man now appeared weak. He’d been my rock, my champion. My mother and father. He’d been the one to tend to my wounds after I fell off my bike. He’d read to me, including the same ridiculous story I’d loved so much any time I asked.
He’d schooled me on taking care of myself. How to balance a checkbook and how to add air to my tires. When I’d been older, he’d insisted I knew how to change a flat. And he’d schooled me on boys, never backing down that boys didn’t become men until in their thirties and that most men could never be trusted.
“Oh, my little shiny Penny, I would give anything to stay with you.” As he coughed, I squeezed his hand harder.
If only I could provide a tether between us that wouldn’t allow him to leave. “I love you.”
“Ah, honey.” His whisper was hoarse, soon to be inaudible. As he wiped a tear away, all the years we’d shared came crashing down. “Just remember, when one door closes, another will open. And I know you. You’ll push your way through. You’re just like your mother. And so beautiful.”
When one door closed, another opened.
It had been a motto I’d tried to live by. Even after eleven years, the pain could hit me at the strangest times, the despair almost overwhelming.
Why today was beyond me other than the reality of losing my job had finally begun to hit home.
“If you don’t help me, I will kill myself. I have a sharp knife ready to drive into my jugular vein. Plus, I’m ready to jump off the bridge. But in the meantime, the pills will soon kick in. I’ll face an agonizing death from asphyxiation, but the pain will be less traumatic than dealing with an angry mob.”
With my eyes closed, I reached for my coffee and realized the cup was empty. It was still early in Louisville so I couldn’t imagine what time it was in Anita’s part of the world. My brain was so foggy, I couldn’t remember where she’d moved to. Montana or Wyoming. Maybe Texas.
For whatever reason, the ugly memory had created a crater in my heart. Maybe because I’d finally decided to give up searching for another hospitality position, determined to concentrate on the little side job I’d created for myself, hoping to turn it into something more tangible.
And capable of paying at least some of the bills.
At this point, I couldn’t get a job cleaning rooms in a hotel. Whatever lies had been told about me had been successful. Just last night, I’d decided to turn my back on the industry forever. Now I was being asked to use my expertise to help a friend.
What would my father have told me?
Maybe another door was about to open.
“I’m no expert on suicide,” I told her as I trudged into the kitchen, the coffee monster calling my name.
Cof-fee. Cof-fee…
“But I think one method will likely be enough. Although my guess is you’ll chicken out before the tip of the blade is driven into your skin. Very messy and talk about painful.” I fought hard to keep from laughing. And people had told me I was dramatic.
“I’m serious!” Hearing her shrill cry, I pulled the phone away from my ear.
“Okay, what is going on?” Open cabinet, pull out flavored coffee. Yes, the timer on the Keurig machine had worked for a change. I’d been ready to pound it with a sledgehammer.
“You remember the huge and I do mean huge romance book conference I’m half in charge of?”
“Vaguely.” I was lucky I could remember my own name. Open lid on Keurig machine and pop a pod in. Hit go. There, my big accomplishment for the day.
“In San Diego at the incredibly gorgeous Tempest Grand I booked almost two years ago? We have somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty-five hundred people coming with a wait list of hundreds? And that’s happening in five days. Five. Days! There can’t be any hiccups. My reputation is on the line. What am I saying? Romance readers are ravenous beasts. They’ll hunt me down like a raw filet on a stick.”
Oh, yes. How could I forget? She’d peppered me with questions about the hotel while booking the event. While I was still gainfully employed. Visions of the redhead being chased by crazed women with spears would burn a hole in the back of my mind. “I remember, girl. What about it?”
“What about it?” Her screech was even louder. “Now, they’re saying they can’t accommodate all the events already planned or the number of guests. Are you fucking kidding me? It’s next week. I’m having a heart attack. Call 9-1-1.”
Anita Wray was a sweet girl, which was why she should never have tried to undertake a convention of this magnitude. She should have left the job to the experts. Namely, bitches in heels. I qualified, which was why she’d called me.
“First of all, calm the fuck down. Second, you do have a contract. Right? Please tell me that you do.”
“Yes. Yes! That’s what makes me crazy, but they’re giving me the runaround. What do I do? You have a background in this shit. Not me.”
Had was more like it. I would still have a great job in the hospitality industry were it not for my piece of shit ex who’d decided when we’d broken up to have my boss fire me on the spot. Not only that, for kicks and giggles, he’d decided to take his hatred a notch further by having me blacklisted.
I’d caught him in the act of betrayal and he’d acted as if he owned me and that he couldn’t believe I would walk away. Did he think he was all that and a bag of Doritos? Evidently so.
Thankfully, after three further rude texts, he’d stopped bothering. That didn’t mean he hadn’t continued to ruin my professional career.
That was why I was on pins and needles, thankful that when I’d had a six-figure salary I’d saved some money. Or my ass and my beloved Keurig machine would be out on the street.
“Okay. Then they must adhere to the contract.” I tried to convey confidence.
“They’re saying something about the final payment not being received, which is wrong. I have all the bank information. But they booked some of our rooms. Can you fucking believe that?”
She was close to becoming hysterical.
“Sadly, I can. What can I do?”
“You must know some people who can help.” I had a YouTube channel to set up and a half dozen posts to make. Plus, there was something horribly wrong with the way I’d set up my affiliate links and God knows you didn’t want to piss off Amazon. They didn’t play fair or nice when they had any inkling you were a scammer.
Arguing with a computer-generated bot was certainly not on the day’s agenda. However, neither was someone begging for help from a thousand miles away.
On top of that I had a damn internet troll. Maybe I should feel as if I’d ‘arrived’ in my fledgling business.
“In California? I doubt it.” My snort was entirely too judgmental, but my excuse would remain lack of coffee.
“Pretty please?”
I laughed evilly. “What’s in it for me?” I was teasing her, but I should have known she would take me seriously.
“A table at the conference. You can take one of the suites already booked at the hotel for people working on the convention and since I travel so much, I have frequent flyer miles. I’ll toss in round trip air fare. I’ll even spring for first class. This cannot fail.”
Wow. She was close to desperation. I had to admit the offer was tempting. Since being fired unexpectedly, I’d been provided with plenty of time to get my tiny business up and running: a romance book influencer and social media director. Some might call me a bookstagrammer, but I was so much more. Romance on the Go. I thought the name was catchy. Too bad few people did at this point.
A romance book convention.
Why hadn’t I thought of that? Because my hobby of a few months hadn’t been intended to turn into a business, but here I was, grasping at straws.
“Oh, please,” Anita moaned. “I’m dying here.”
“Alright. You have yourself a deal, but I won’t make any promises. Send me a copy of the contract and the name and contact information of the people you talked to along with everything you have on the conference and the expectations of the use of their hotel.”
“Already done. You’re the best. I can’t wait to see you. As soon as you confirm we’re set, I’ll make all the travel arrangements, so you won’t need to worry about a thing.”
There was nothing like having something held over your head.
Anita’s email had been primed and ready by the time I’d sat down at my computer. If what she’d said was true, I suspected the real problem was that the hotel had overbooked with another conference, which meant ballrooms were prime real estate. Perhaps they were even running short on the block of rooms promised.
Another cup of coffee and I settled into familiarizing myself with the amenities as well as going over every line in the contract. Payment had been made, although a day late. In most situations regarding such a significant contract, there was some leniency regarding payment deadlines.
This was a classic example of being pushed by another party at the hotel or by someone in one of the executive suites. When I finally felt versed in the information so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself, I checked the name of the person she’d been speaking with.
Well, well. It would seem luck was on Anita’s side.
Jordan White.
We’d been on opposite sides of a marketing campaign a couple of years before. He was smart, but I was cunning.
I knew him marginally well, enough to know all his weaknesses. And yes, I intended on using them.
After checking the time, I smiled. It was just past eight on a Monday morning in California. Dealing with me would be much better than a strong cup of coffee for the man. Even though I was in shorts and a tee shirt, I flipped my hair back, pretending I was dressed in a Christian Dior suit.
I might as well play the part of an executive. Thank God this wasn’t a Zoom meeting.
He picked up his extension on the second ring. “Jordan White.”
“Jordy. What a pleasure to hear your voice again.”
In approximately three seconds, he realized who was on the other line. His heavy sigh was priceless and telling. “Penelope Michaels.”
Yes, he knew exactly who I was and what I was capable of.
Time to swoop in for the kill.
Anita would soon owe me more than first class accommodations.
* * *
Shit. Double shit.
Evidently, I’d been too intoxicated from one too many glasses of champagne in first class or too exhausted to set the alarm on my phone correctly. Or maybe the time difference had thrown me off. Whatever the case, I was running late, furious with myself.
The last few days had been a whirlwind, almost missing my flight.
I’d gotten in late enough from the airport I’d yet to indulge in taking much time in soothing my senses in my incredible surroundings. I’d seen pictures and glossy brochures of some of the world’s most fabulous hotels in my former position, but the Tempest Grand was utterly amazing.
It held old world Mediterranean charm with arched floor-to-ceiling windows throughout, and ornate columns everywhere. Gothic stone fireplaces created warmth and ambience while walls painted in rich camel and carved wooden pieces added to the opulence.
The grand foyer was a breathtaking study in coastal affluence, even though the ocean was miles away. Sunlight poured through towering arched windows, catching the dust motes dancing over the cool ivory marble floors. Billowing, sheer white curtains framed breathtaking views of the pristine landscape while the deep azure of the velvet chaise lounges echoed the horizon. Overhead, a wrought-iron chandelier cast a warm, golden glow across walls adorned with vibrant, hand-painted Majolica tiles, instantly lulling every guest into a state of sun-drenched tranquility.
I sounded like a brochure for a marketing campaign. Oh, I could kill my ex.
Fresh flowers provided intense, seductive scents. Everywhere I looked was a wow factor. No wonder Anita had been embroiled in a panic attack.
My suite was fit for a king and the bathroom was to die for. Coming out of the elevator, I’d captured a glimpse of the pool nestled amongst lush green foliage with the mountains as a backdrop and longed to be nothing but a guest.
There were separate cabanas, a swim-up bar and hundreds of lounge chairs just begging to be used for relaxation. And the dining room and several bars I’d seen? Holy smokes.
All of the gorgeous amenities aside, I’d consider the hotel a failure if they hadn’t added a Starbucks. This girl needed far more coffee than was provided in her suite.
The time for sightseeing was over for now.
Thankfully with it being barely six in the morning, there were few guests awake and milling around downstairs. Everything was supposed to be set, the ballroom and auxiliary rooms ready and waiting. This was check-in and set-up day for the authors and some readers along with a few afternoon activities. If I’d had my druthers, I would have gotten in a day earlier, but I’d had to scramble to get my act and fledging business together.
There had to be something on my table to show the world I was ready to take them by storm.
I had one hour to myself to check things over before the mayhem began and planned on using every minute wisely.
As I flew into the small Starbucks, I took a deep whiff. There was nothing like the scent of coffee first thing in the morning.
“Welcome to the Tempest Grand,” the girl behind the counter said in the most welcoming voice. She was far more chipper than I remembered the barista at my local coffee shop having been. Maybe she was influenced by her luxurious surroundings.
“Thank you. Can I have a very tall Venti blond roast?”
“A working girl. Absolutely. Are you here for the charity event or the romance convention?”
I laughed. “Guess.”
“You have an aura of wealth, eager in anticipation of providing donations to aid children all across the world.”
With a sly smile, I peered down at my slightly wrinkled dress, the claims of being the perfect wrinkle-free material a complete lie. “Your customer skills are extraordinary, but you and I both know I’m here to ogle all the male cover models attending.”
She’d earned her tip if for no other reason than providing me with knowledge about the hotel’s other convention being held at the same time.
“I think you’ll have much more fun than the stuck-up folks who attend the charity meetings and galas.” As she prepared my coffee, I continued making a mental list of everything I needed to double check.
“That bad?”
“Well, I’m certain members of the Triton Group are responsible for the money flowing to various children’s organizations, but they are… picky. Honestly, I can’t wait to see their reactions with all the half-naked men running around like wild men of the jungle.”
Evidently, I stared at her blankly.
“The theme of the event?”
“Ah,” I said, half laughing. “Buff and Dangerous. Is the charity having a huge event this weekend?” I’d forgotten all about the theme. Knowing Anita and her love of alpha men, she’d encourage the models to wear nothing but loincloths.
“The main event is tomorrow night, a festive ball and silent auction. Be prepared for stuffed shirts and Barbie dolls.” As she turned to face me, the prepared coffee in her hand, she placed the index finger of her other across her mouth.
As if she’d been a bad girl.
If only the baristas at my local Starbucks had this much personality.
“Don’t worry,” I told her as I pulled out my debit card. “I won’t tell a soul. Thanks for the warning.”
“Any time.”
As I slipped my card into my fanny pack, I headed to the condiment bar, eager to add a little flavored cream. With most expenses paid for the trip, I could afford limited luxuries for myself. Hopefully, my bank account wouldn’t scream bloody murder.
I left the area before I returned the creamer top and by the time I reached the entrance I was laughing at myself for being so inept in doing so. Perhaps the simple act was too challenging for my foggy brain this morning.
Still in a hurry, I continued fiddling with trying to yank the zipper on my pack while heading into the hallway. My instinct that I wasn’t alone kicked in about the same time a blur crossed the periphery of my vision. Right before I bumped into something solid.
Rock-hard solid with the scent of one of the very savage men the barista had mentioned.
The coffee cup slipped from my hand, the lid jumping into the air. In a moment when gravity had full rein, the scalding liquid was pitched horizontally from my body into a high arc. Physics took over from there, the slow-motion tumble tossed away from my shaking body.
And directly onto the person hoping to grab a delicious beverage of their own.
My gasp was nothing in comparison to a deep baritone exclamation of the person I’d slammed into.
“Fuck.” The man’s deep voice was filled with exasperation, a gut-wrenching sound that screamed of sheer agony.
“Oh, no.” I was momentarily lost in his incredible sculpted physique to react in any other way. He was tall, broad-shouldered and with long, muscular legs. His forearms were works of art.
Fortunately, he took a giant stride backward, which broke the magical spell, although it would seem the two of us were locked in a strange, hypnotic moment even as liquid dripped from one arm, cascading ever so silently to the polished marble floor. The rest of the coffee had created an instant work of art on his crisp white shirt.
Thankfully, he wasn’t wearing a tie, but sadly, he’d rolled up the sleeves so the hot liquid would certainly burn his golden skin.
He had a presence about him screaming of both power and danger, the type of man where a perceived accident wouldn’t go over well. His smoldering good looks captured and kept my attention, shoulders wide enough to strain the freshly pressed shirt.
His hair was black, thick and curly with a hint of messiness that seemed intentional. A quick dash fresh from the shower. His handsome face had me in awe, my breath hitching. He was all sharp angles and chiseled features, as if someone had carved him from marble without smoothing the edges: aristocratic and holding an air of arrogance that on him was entirely too sexy.
Everything about the dark and dangerous mystery man screamed money and a clear and easy ability to sue for irreparable harm to his reputation as being the savviest person on Earth.
The jolt as the cup dropped to the floor jerked me completely back into reality and I sensed my expression was one of horror as I dared look into his eyes. “I am so sorry.”
At this point in my life, I prided myself on being unaffected by handsome men, especially those wearing such a scowl. But with the handsome stranger, the hard look in his eyes and the way his angular jaw was clenched in frustration held a certain sex appeal. He was close to being the most exquisite man I’d ever been this close to.
“Oh, wow,” I continued, mostly involuntarily given the horror of what I’d done. “You must be one of the male models.” What I wouldn’t give to see him in an itsy-bitsy loincloth.
Where there should be fury ebbing from every pore in the man, other than the single word of shock, he didn’t utter another word, nor did his expression indicate anything other than sheer boredom.
I almost wanted him to scream and yell or jump up and down. The only movement was in the flick of his eyes drifting down to my toes and back again. Still with no expression.
“Let me get you some towels. Again, I’m very sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” Even after issuing the statement, I seemed frozen on the spot. He was certainly a man of substance with being at least six foot four, weighing in at a trim two ten maybe and I would have thought someone of his stature was prepared to use intimidation tactics.
He didn’t.
Nor did he say anything else.
He simply sidestepped me and walked away, taking a solid step into the liquid pooling on the floor.
When he’d disappeared from view, I finally took a deep breath.
What a way to start a morning.