Chapter Seven
“Are you ready?” Emma asked him.
Am I? He pressed his hand on the small of her back and tilted his head in the direction of the ballroom of one of the best hotels in Port Louis. Also the hotel where they’d checked in the previous day. “Yes.”
A gorgeous red gown hugged her delectable curves. The stylist had called it a mermaid dress because of the shape, and Nico wouldn’t be surprised if she started enchanting all the men in attendance. Emma looked stunning.
Hopefully, Desmorais would agree and hear his tempting offer.
He’d lost so much after his mother’s death. Well, even before she died… He’d lost her the moment she’d been officially diagnosed. Why was recovering some of those happy memories so bad? He swallowed.
“Let’s do it,” Emma said, egging him on. She flashed him one of those incredibly naïve smiles she didn’t know she pulled off. A smile that clawed its way down his throat and clutched his heart.
He glanced at the line of impeccably clad guests, the men in their smoking suits and women wearing sequined dresses, holding jewel-encrusted clutches, and some even had on coveted fur wraps. He flexed and relaxed his fingers, skimming around the large space filled with guests, tables, and waiters.
I’m finally here. One step closer to meeting Desmorais. The opportunity to buy back what was taken from him. His father was a piece of work and never really cared for his feelings, which suited Nico fine, since talking about them never made it to his priority list.
A thrill of excitement bolted through him.
The hostess took them to their seats, ones he had paid good money for. A band on the stage played songs he didn’t immediately recognize, but the melodies would have soothed his nerves if he weren’t so freaking anxious. Relax, man. You got this.
“You know what’s funny?” Emma leaned closer, and he caught a whiff of her sweet and spicy floral scent.
He popped his knuckles. “What?”
She tilted her head to one side then nudged his chest playfully. “You’re the billionaire, and you want to make a deal because of my connection.”
He bit back a smile. “Touché, Emma. Now that we’re here, I’m counting on you to work your magic and hold your part of the bargain.”
“Here’s an idea. What if I walk around to see if I can find Desmorais? Casually bump into him, ask him how he’s doing, so when I introduce you it doesn’t seem so staged, since you’ve been trying to get a hold of him since forever?”
“Good idea.”
She flashed him a smile that seared his insides. Damn her. Diavola.
He watched her stand and zigzag among the arriving guests, the heat inside him only growing at each step she took, her hips swaying in time with the sensual song the band played. Damn her. If she wasn’t so set on getting her loser boyfriend back—
Nico touched his collar. Even if Simon wasn’t game, she couldn’t just be his fuck buddy. Emma wanted and deserved a whole lot more, and he couldn’t give it to her. Hell, Zaine knew as much, which was why he’d probably resent him, too. No matter how old you are, you never want to see your sister bang the less likely to commit.
Unlikely. He squared his shoulders. Not less likely.
A waiter handed him a flute of champagne, and he drank the bubbly in one quick gulp, fully aware he needed hard liquor to endure the rest of the evening.
“Nico Giordano?” asked a man walking up to him.
Nico blinked, recognizing James Perry, an oil giant from Houston. Someone he’d made business deals with on the East Coast and whom he met at functions and had exchanged a word or two. Nico stood and gave him a firm handshake. “James Perry. Small world.”
Tall, lanky James nodded. “I know. I did some business with Elton Lewis in the past. He’s helping organize this shindig,” the fifty-something-year-old said, circling his finger. “Insisted I come. So here I am. What’s your excuse?”
“Emma Cavanaugh, my girlfriend, is big into charity,” Nico said. He’d shared his eagerness to buy the house with only family and close friends. The business world had taught him to keep important things to himself.
“Girlfriend?” James whistled. “Wow. I can’t believe you. Actually, I’ll believe it when I see it. Nico Giordano, whipped.”
Nico lifted his hand in disagreement. “I said girlfriend. Not wife.”
James took a sip of his scotch. “You say that, my friend. That’s how it all begins. Pretty soon you’ll be her lapdog.”
“Oh, please. Lapdogs are for suckers. You might as well hand over your balls on a tray, because you won’t be needing them anymore.”
James started to laugh, then his face sobered, and he reached for the tumbler he’d left on the table.
Nico frowned. “What, are you sensitive about a lapdog joke? Should I search for teacup Chihuahuas in your closet?”
A clearing of a throat made Nico turn around, to see Desmorais, the man he’d been trying to impress. He’d seen only a picture or two of the older gentleman online, though the intense glare on his oval face had nothing gentle about it.
With thinning hair but not yet bald, Desmorais stared at him with fire in his brown eyes. Nico’s blood froze. What could he possibly have done to upset the man he’d never met in person?
A short man with trimmed hair and slick glasses stood next to Desmorais with the terrified look of an assistant. He opened his mouth, but with a hand gesture, Desmorais silenced him, and the assistant drew in a sharp breath, then snapped his jaw shut.
Whatever happened, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity he’d come for. “Monsieur Desmorais, I’m honored to meet you, sir,” he said, stretching out his hand. “Nico Giordano. I’ve come a long way to contribute to this worthy cause.”
Desmorais glanced down at his hand without moving a muscle. Then the man shook his head, more to himself than to Nico, and with a snort, walked away from them. The assistant followed him, and they spoke in French.
His gut clenched. Shit. Where the hell was Emma? If she’d been here, she’d have made an introduction to clear the air.
James patted him on the shoulder. “Damn. Doesn’t seem he likes you much.”
“That could be a problem, since I want to do business with him,” Nico said, annoyance lacing his words.
“It’ll be all right. Why don’t you ask that girlfriend of yours for help? Cavanaugh, you said? Isn’t she the one in charge of the animal sanctuary he’s building at his home?”
Animal sanctuary? At his home? Shock crept into his bloodstream, freezing his veins for a moment. Nico reached for his collar, slipping a finger into it to make sure it wasn’t too tight. “What are you talking about?”
“Elton mentioned it to me. Said the fund-raiser today is a good way to weed out donors for a future project. Get this: the old man lives on a kickass property he wants to turn into a sanctuary. But he doesn’t want the word to get out yet, because he’s still getting licenses approved and shit.”
“And Elton told you all this?”
James shrugged. “Yeah, I think he wants to start searching for donors already. Hey, maybe you can talk to him and see if you can get in on it, too. Could be a good way to get on the old man’s good side.”
Disappointment squeezed his chest. Emma had known this all along and never told him. Not once did she say she’d be effectively working on the project to rip away his dream. He curled his fingers into fists, his pulse thrumming in his temples. She’d lied to him.
“Excuse me,” Nico said, tuning out the additional information James told him.
He made his way through the ballroom, uneasiness settling in his gut. Another question pounded in his ears. Why did Desmorais ignore him? Was it because he was talking to James Perry? No, since Perry had been a guest, friends with Elton, who’d helped Desmorais organize the fund-raiser. Had she told Desmorais about Nico’s plan? Had they shared a good laugh at his expense?
Nico let out an exasperated sigh, looking both ways, and saw just a sea of people greeting one another or searching for their seats. His heart quickened, and the image of his mother running to him in the backyard filled with rare, beautiful bois dentelle plants unraveled in his mind. He blinked twice, his pulse still out of control. What the fuck was happening?
He’d come all the way here to have a panic attack?
He’d come all the way here to lose?
He ran his fingers down his face. No. Never. He’d get to the bottom of this mess.
“Nico,” he heard a female voice call. A female voice he recognized and spiked his heart rate for an entirely different reason.
He turned around, and Emma waved at him. She stood next to Desmorais and his assistant. Stretching to his full height, he strode over to them with his natural confidence restored. Whatever misunderstanding happened earlier, now was a great time to put it behind him—with Emma, who spoke French and knew Desmorais. He’d question her later, but not while Desmorais stood before him. He’d never miss the opportunity to continue as planned, even if he didn’t trust her anymore.
She said something in quick French, then touched his tie and smiled. “Nico, please meet Angele Desmorais. I was just telling him how we’re excited about the fund-raiser.”
Nico stretched out his hand, and Desmorais glanced at it for an uncomfortable stretch of time until his assistant whispered something in another language. At last, Desmorais shook his hand, his brown eyes squinting.
Nico stared him in the eyes, not letting the man’s disdain unsettle him. “Pleasure.”
Desmorais gave him a reluctant slow nod, then quickly withdrew his hand. He exchanged a few sentences with Emma and spun around. She responded in French, to which he glared at Nico, and muttered a, “Oui.”
As he and his assistant moved along to greet other people, Emma turned to Nico. “No wonder you needed help. He doesn’t like you.” She whistled, hands perched at her waist.
“Why? What could I ever have done to him?” Had he been too overbearing in the past when he’d tried to establish some rapport? Perhaps Desmorais’s lawyer had influenced his mind against Nico. But why?
“I don’t know. He had invited me for a lunch at his place in three days, and just now I asked him if I could bring you, and he sort of begrudgingly agreed.”
Nico gritted his teeth. “Great.” When was the last time he had to impress anyone? Most people he dealt with knew him, his power and influence. They went out of their way to gain his approval, but Desmorais didn’t bow to any man. “I just met him tonight. I was making a joke about lapdogs with a friend I ran into, when he approached me.”
She frowned, angling closer. “Lapdogs? What did you say?”
“James mentioned something about me being a lapdog because I brought my girlfriend here, and I said lapdogs are for suckers. Something about handing over your balls on a tray. Why?”
“Didn’t you know? Desmorais loves small doggies. He’s rescued a bunch of them and keeps them in his home. It’s his passion.”
Oh shit. He ran his hand down his face, cursing himself. One stupid joke and the man clearly hated his guts. “How could I know anything about him? He’s so reserved, and personal views on animals aren’t on the top of my priority list.” Besides, all he’d paid his corporate investigator to discover had been about financial crap, which had been a disappointment. If Desmorais had been in any kind of difficulty, the man wouldn’t think twice about selling a property well over market value. Yet his portfolio was strong. Too strong.
She tapped his arm. “Well, there you have it. You insulted his dogs and implied he’s not a real man because he likes them. Can’t you tell lunch with him at his house, surrounded by his pets, will be a joy?”
The animals. Now what James had said made even more sense. He jerked away from her, knowing full well her touch only made him less focused. “You know what else will be a joy? When you explain to me why you didn’t tell me he intends to turn the same fucking property I want to buy into a sanctuary,” he said, his voice low but merciless. “With your help.”
Her face paled. She glanced around them and then angled closer. “Nico, I couldn’t tell you. I signed a nondisclosure agreement, like I do on every project with Desmorais.”
How ironic that Elton was willing to run his mouth, but she had to be all high and mighty about it. He shook his head, anger washing over him. “This is different. You knew my goal. I agreed only to—”
She lifted her chin and perched her hands on her waist. “To fuck me in exchange for an introduction to Desmorais. I have, and I secured you a lunch with him. Who’s to say you can’t go and change his mind? You told me yourself you’re a good negotiator.”
“That’s not the point. I shouldn’t have learned about this from an acquaintance.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to stand my ground. I was conflicted over this, but I’m still holding my end of the bargain. I was contracted to be the project manager of a sanctuary, but that job won’t start for another couple of months. I’ll be the translator for the professionals I bring from the U.S. There.” She angled her head to one side. “That’s all I know.”
“Did you tell him about my wanting to buy his home?”
“No. I didn’t tell him anything about our deal. He believes you’re my boyfriend.”
She stared into his eyes, and his stomach curled like he’d received a blow. Despite the honesty leaking from her voice, her eyes hid a secret. He should have yanked his gaze away, but instead, he contemplated the fiery specks of gold outlining her pupils, which darkened to a matte brown. Fear.
Was she that scared he wouldn’t fulfill his end of their deal? Was she that scared she wouldn’t have the tools she thought she needed to win back her fiancé? Tension stiffened his back. Perhaps after having lost her father and brother, she craved a familial relationship. She didn’t want to break up with the man who’d given her the dream of a family of her own.
Nico sighed. Just because he didn’t believe in the same dream she had, didn’t mean he wouldn’t honor his word. His shoulders relaxed. “Fine. I believe you,” he said, even though deep down he wasn’t sure.
…
Emma removed her shoes and tossed them to the side. The regal presidential suite they occupied seemed a lot colder now. Ever since the fund-raiser from hell, Nico had been quieter than usual. Was he discouraged by Desmorais’s dismissive attitude? Or did he just hate her after he’d found out about her omission?
Nico walked into the closet, where the hotel maid had already unpacked their clothes. He removed his clothes, then, naked as if this was everyday business, he headed to the shower. A cloud of steam swirled out the door of the bathroom, which he didn’t unlock.
She sat on the curvy chair and played with the ends of her hair. A part of her wanted to join him in the shower. They weren’t in a real relationship—she didn’t have to offer to talk to him, and she doubted he enjoyed deep personal conversations.
And as for sex…
She stood. She didn’t have the confidence he did to remove her clothes and parade around naked for no good reason. He didn’t need to worry about cellulite or unflattering lighting.
When he exited the bathroom she cleared her throat. Her heart slammed against her rib cage like she’d just finished a Zumba class. With a towel wrapped around his waist, Nico made his way to her. The green in his eyes darkened, and his muscles shifted and bunched as he moved.
Damn it. She sucked in a breath and attempted, with no success, to tear her gaze from his washboard abs. “So did you, um, use all the hot water?”
A delicious smile formed on his handsome face. “We need to work on your pre-sex game, Emma. It’s weak.”
You know what else is weak? My knees. “All right, boss. Or should I say professor?”
“Professor has a different subject tonight,” he said, removing his towel so it fell on the floor. Her throat grew thick and dry, and a tremor surged through her, from top to bottom. Whatever he wanted to teach her, she was down with learning. Mastering it, even. “On your knees, sweet face.”
She kneeled before him, his ginormous cock within a breath of her face. Entranced, she parted her lips and bobbed her head forward, motioning to take it in her mouth.
“Eager, aren’t you?” he said, stepping back, his voice strained.
A wave of warmth moved across her cheeks. “I’ve always been a straight A student.”
“Good. Because if you master this, any man will go crazy for you. Which means…patience.”
She glanced up at him, noticing the dark gleam in his eyes. She could feel her pearly essence coating her folds, her thighs getting damp and sticky. The idea of driving him crazy for a change played in her mind like an old-fashioned record.
“First, you want to entice. Lick my cock with the tip of your tongue, running it up and down.”
She followed his request, tracing her tongue along his dick, feeling the powerful rush of blood in his veins. He groaned and, encouraged, she intensified the laps of her tongue at his rod, then stopped at the tip.
“Good girl. Play with my balls with the other hand.”
She cupped his heavy, full balls and squeezed them gently, earning a little growl from him. She’d always thought of oral sex as a sometimes-needed foreplay, a task to be checked. Never did she feel compelled to really enjoy the moment and stretch it for as long as possible. And now, just looking at his gorgeous, perfect cock sent a thrill down her spine.
Who knew pleasuring him would excite her, too? She longed for it to be in her mouth, filling her and, unable to wait a second longer, she took it inside, sucking, loving that velvety skin and the hardness of his rod.
“Emma,” he called in such a hoarse tone she didn’t know if he praised her or cursed her. Maybe a little bit of both.
She cupped his balls one more time, then brought both hands to his cock, encircling it as she sucked most of it, as much as she could manage, in and out of her mouth.
“Move your hand in the same direction as your mouth,” he said, throwing back his head.
She followed his request and intensified her bringing him into and out of her mouth. Her clit throbbed with need, and she clenched her thighs together, but her attempt at cooling her desire only fueled the fire.
She swirled her tongue over his leaky tip, savoring the salty jism. Then she licked the sensitive slit in the middle. This, this exploring his most sexual part caused a flutter of female empowerment through her. She was making him lose his head—she, Emma Cavanaugh, not anyone else.
“Emma…”
She slipped her hands behind his legs and onto his ass, finding the perfect position for them. She clasped his firm cheeks, her fingers scratching his flesh, and he thrust his cock deeper into her throat. Deeper.
She relaxed her throat muscles in an attempt to fit him completely. He withdrew halfway and returned it, faster. His engorged rod slipped in and out of her mouth, each time hitting the back of her throat. A rush of adrenaline bolted down her body, and she looked up at him, unsure if she should or not. She wanted to see, play by play, her effect on him.
She lifted her gaze and found him staring at her with a mysterious glint in his eyes. A small, almost unnoticeable smile formed at the corners of his lips. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and a blazing heat filled her heart. Her common sense warned her in a wavering voice to look away, to lessen the passionate energy passing between their stare. But crap, she couldn’t.
He continued fucking her mouth, and she touched his balls again. They were tighter than before. He thrust his fingers into her hair, his strong hand kneading her scalp and sending a charged awareness all the way to her toes. “So good, Emma. I can’t—”
She squeezed his balls gently, and whoa, that did it. She withdrew his cock halfway only to return with a vengeance, the shaking of his legs warning her of what was about to happen. Without hesitation, she took him, his seed, still playing with his balls with one hand and caressing the back of his knee with the other.
An animalistic sound filled the air as he emptied himself into her mouth. When he disengaged from her, she inhaled. She fought the wobbliness of her knees and surged to her feet, her eyes searching his.
She expected him to crack a joke about her passing the oral exam with flying colors, but he surprised her. Without a single word, he sat at the edge of the bed and glanced at the floor. With flushed cheeks and sweat glistening on his arms and legs, he sucked in a breath.
She scratched the back of her neck. When he finally peered at her, his eyes darkened, and his spine locked into place. Her gut clenched, and she knew she’d done a good job—knew it because he acted like her performance brought more of an inconvenience than a successful teaching lesson. Her pulse skittered, and she nodded to herself. Turned out she had a thing or two to teach him, too.