CHAPTER FOUR
REBECCA SLAMMED DOWN the phone. “That shady motherfucker,” Rebecca said to her empty office, trying her damnedest to bite back a frustrated scream. She gripped the edges of her desk. If she possessed the physical strength, she would have flipped the heavy oak behemoth over on its side.
Her frustration built and she took deep breaths to stop the shaking in her hands. But it wasn’t successful. She thought about her father and the business he’d built and how she couldn’t let it fall under the command of Brett Collins. She thought about all of the power and influence Brett had in the city. With what Brett was offering the shareholders for their shares, she wondered how many would stick with DI. It was a near-hopeless situation. But it was up to her to save the company. She was on her own on this one.
“I could see him again,” she told herself. “Try to appeal to him.” And if she couldn’t talk him out of it altogether, she would let him know that she wasn’t going to take it lying down. If that didn’t work, at least, she could hope to get a little dirt on him and his friends. Rebecca wasn’t into blackmail, but she wasn’t afraid to play dirty if she needed to.
* * *
Hours later, Rebecca found herself on the sidewalk in front of Di Terrestres. The exterior of the club was unassuming enough, just like many other buildings located in Las Vegas’s downtown financial district. It was located at the bottom floor of their office high-rise, which housed Collins/Fischer along with many other businesses. The sleek gold letters emblazoned on the sign bearing its name weren’t out of place in this neighborhood, but the burly bouncers guarding the door in black suits may have been a giveaway. There was a small line of people looking for admittance, and one by one they were afforded entrance. She’d heard about the club, but a Google search had provided only vague information at best. She’d surmised it was exclusive, intimate even, and she figured that if there was anywhere she would find Brett after hours, it’d be here.
Rebecca frowned, glancing up at the tall building once more. As she approached the lineup, she eyed the doormen, who consulted their lists on the tablets in their hands. Brett had told her to come by, but she was certain she wasn’t on whatever list they had in front of them now.
The key was to act like she was.
She straightened her shoulders and strolled to the door, bypassing the small lineup, ignoring the annoyed stares of the people she passed. She smiled at a doorman, but he barely looked at her as she approached. “Name?” His voice boomed. He was huge and had a no-nonsense demeanor.
“I’m here to see Brett,” she said, not breaking eye contact. “He invited me.”
“Name?”
She sighed, feigning impatience. “Rebecca Daniels. If you could just tell him I’m here—”
“You can go right on in, Ms. Daniels,” he told her, looking up at her, now smiling.
She tried to stop the surprise from showing. “Really?”
“Rebecca Daniels.” He gestured to the screen. “You’re on the list. Go right on inside. You’ll find Mr. Collins in there.”
She schooled her features, not letting her disbelief that it had worked show. “Thank you,” she told him, sauntering past, confident as any woman would be to meet a man at his exclusive club.
From the foyer, Rebecca passed through two huge lush black curtains and found herself in the luxurious environs of Di Terrestres. Her eyes widened, impressed. It was dark but not too dark. The walls were covered with more black curtains, and modern chandeliers and small wall sconces cast dim swaths of golden light over the shadows that crept from the corners. Despite the large size of the room, the design and lighting made it feel small, intimate, sexy even, and she clearly wasn’t the only one who thought so. She looked around at the couples and groups of people huddled together at the high-backed booths and tables lining the room. Some of them were talking, laughing, and others were locked in intimate embraces, in various stages of undress. She looked around and noticed how the guests touched each other, spoke softly, as if they were lovers. But the faces were familiar, and she recognized many of them as some of Las Vegas’s most influential businesspeople, politicians and celebrities. It left her wondering exactly what kind of place Di Terrestres was.
At the center of the room was a huge raised platform, and she imagined it must have been a dance floor, but no one was dancing; the patrons were so wrapped up in each other, it went unused. Her attention returned to the people around her, engaging in extremely private acts in a very public space, and she felt envious, not having been able to give in to her own desires in a long time.
As a younger woman, she’d exhilarated in exhibitionism, and it was Brett who had brought that out in her. Their semipublic physical encounters were still with her. Back then, they’d done it everywhere—the college library, empty classrooms, store changing rooms—and the heat of the memories made her skin flush as it came over her from time to time. She shook her head in an attempt to disperse the images.
Brett was nowhere to be seen in the crowd, but she did see a long bar along one wall and made her way toward it. If she was going to talk to Brett again, she needed a drink...or several. So she took her place on an empty stool between two men, who simultaneously gave her an obvious once-over before they both turned to her with interest as the bartender quickly made her way over to Rebecca. “What can I get for you?”
“Gin and tonic please,” Rebecca told her, trying to ignore the attention of the men who flanked her. “A double.”
The gorgeous bartender nodded. “You got it.” She quickly made Rebecca’s drink and placed it in front of her on a cocktail napkin.
Rebecca withdrew her credit card from her purse to pay for her drink, but the bartender shook her head at her and walked away to serve the next customer. Rebecca’s eyebrows drew together as she watched the bartender take payment from another customer, and she wondered why she hadn’t been charged.
Her question was answered almost immediately when Rebecca caught a whiff of cologne—the spicy, leathery scent she remembered so vividly from the night of the mayor’s party. Brett’s cologne. A dim shadow fell over her, blocking the already-low light, and soon she felt a wall of warm muscle come up behind her and press against her back. She stiffened, and the other men turned their attention back to the bartender, apparently not willing to interfere in Brett’s affairs. Brett rested his palms on the bar on each side of her, trapping her between it and his chest. She didn’t turn around, and she felt him lean closer, bringing his lips to her ear. “I knew I’d see you again soon, Becca.”
“And I knew that I’d have to remind you again that I go by Rebecca now.” She sighed and looked over her shoulder at him. He was as gorgeous as always. In an attempt to steady her shaking hands, she cupped her glass and took a deep swallow of her drink. The gin was definitely top-shelf, and it hit the bottom of her empty stomach. Maybe she should have skipped the drink—no, going in sober wasn’t an option—or maybe she should have stopped to eat dinner before going to the club. And maybe, she thought as she looked up at Brett, either way she was making a huge mistake.
She needed to keep a clear head, especially when the memories of the party had clouded every rational thought she’d had since that night. His proximity only made it worse. Her throat dried and she took a deep gulp of her gin and tonic and turned back to look at him once more.
He was wearing gray slacks and a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at his throat with the sleeves rolled up, exposing the tanned skin of his strong, corded forearms. His thick dark blond hair was tousled, and a five-o’clock shadow dotted his firm jawline. It looked like he’d left work and come to the club. But it didn’t matter what he wore, he looked just as good as he had wearing his more formal blue suit a couple of nights ago at Mayor Thompson’s house.
She steeled herself, attempting to hold back her emotions, her desire, reminding herself of the job at hand. But tell that to the breath she held in her lungs and the stirring in her core. She swiveled on her stool, rotating around to face him. He was standing over her, so closely that her knees brushed high on his thighs. While the shock of the contact racked throughout her, he didn’t even appear to flinch. But that was Brett—always so cool and in complete control.
“Can I get you a club soda, Brett?” The bartender had reappeared.
“No, I’m good. Thanks, Tanya,” he said without looking away from Rebecca.
“You put my name on the list.” Rebecca looked up at him. His face was only a few inches from hers. It wasn’t a question. He’d obviously done it.
His smile was cocky, his dimples deep. “I did,” he said with a nod. “I knew you’d come here eventually. That you couldn’t stay away. Especially after Saturday night, I knew you’d be back for more.”
“You’re unbelievable. You still thought that I’d come here for sex, even after this morning when you initiated a hostile takeover of my company...?”
“You know, hostile takeover has such a negative connotation. I’d like to refer to it as a friendly buyout.”
“Tomato, tomahto,” she countered.
Brett laughed. The deep notes rolled over her, and he quickly turned serious as his eyes bored into hers. With each breath, she pulled more and more of his masculine, leathery scent into her lungs, until he surrounded her completely, inside and out, and the rest of the room, the lights, the music, the other patrons fell away, ceasing to exist in the bubble that Brett had created around them. She wasn’t sure if she needed him closer or to get away from him entirely as her head clouded pleasantly, but her nerve endings came alive. She tried to lean back, but the hard edge of the bar dug into her back, holding her in place.
She tried to keep her wits about her. But it was proving harder and harder by the minute. “What made you so cocksure that I’d want to see you again?” she replied, her choice of words intentional. “And what makes you think Saturday night has anything to do with me coming here tonight?”
His smirk was arrogant, and the corners of his lips quirked upward. He leaned closer so his murmured voice could be heard over the din of the club. “So you’re here to yell at me again? I did like that phone call.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not here to yell. I just want to talk.”
“Oh, really? You aren’t mad anymore?”
“Make no mistake, I’m mad as hell. What you did was sneaky and underhanded. But I’m here to see if there’s anything I can do to persuade you to stop.” Rebecca hated the unconscious sensual lilt of her voice, the way her eyes slanted at him, and she tried to hold it back. Brett just brought it out in her, apparently. She could flirt with him, but she wouldn’t trade sex for a deal. She wanted to use her words, her business savvy, to convince him to halt his takeover.
“There might just be one way you could convince me,” he murmured, leaning in.
“You’ve got to be kidding me if you think this is going to be another replay of Saturday night.”
He shrugged and stepped back, finally giving her the room she desperately needed to breathe. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He looked around. “It’s kind of loud down here. Why don’t we go upstairs to my office? We can talk.”
“Just talk?” she asked carefully.
“If you want to talk, we can talk. If you want to do anything else, we can do that, too,” he finished. His eyes betrayed the meaning behind his words.
And Rebecca tried her hardest to ignore the raw sensuality that flowed from his lips, the pure sex that he exuded from every part of him. She’d tried to convince herself that she was there only to talk to him, but as she got ready at home that evening before heading to the club, she’d still selected her favorite bra and pantie set, and put it on underneath her sensible clothing, as if her body had some idea or hope as to where the evening would go, despite what her mind told her.
Unable to keep her focus on his steel blue eyes, she pulled hers away and looked around, over his shoulder. Trying to distract herself from the sinful promises in his gaze, she leaned back, putting some distance between them. She knew that if she went anywhere alone with him, she’d be finished and would do anything he wanted. She needed to buy herself a couple of minutes before they were alone. “This is quite the club you guys have here.”
“We like it.” He still didn’t look away from her.
But her gaze wavered past him, to the couples and groups in the booths. Even the air was erotically charged, thick and heavy. “Why don’t you show me around first? I’d love to get a tour from the owner.” Her rational brain thought that, but she knew in her heart that it wouldn’t. Going off with him alone would only lead to them naked. She knew it. But it was already too late for rational thought. She was officially a woman led by hormones and the dangerous man in front of her.
He smiled and extended his arm to her. “It’d be my pleasure.”
She took it, sliding her fingers over his bare forearm. The thick but silky hair that covered his tanned skin tickled her fingertips.
“So you’ve clearly done well for yourself in the past five years,” Rebecca commented.
He nodded. “And so have you, I hear.”
She had done well since graduating and leaving town. In just a handful of years working at a New York real estate firm, she’d worked her way up from a junior consultant position to an executive position. It had originally been important to her to get away from the family business and the Daniels name to make her own way. And she’d been successful. The reputation she’d made for herself had preceded her in all her East Coast business dealings. But now she was back in Las Vegas. “But let’s talk about you. Tell me about this club.”
She watched as Brett looked around, surveying his domain. “The Brotherhood opened it earlier this year—”
“Wait. The who?”
“The Brotherhood. Me and my friends. It’s just a name we gave ourselves when we started out—people I’ve met from different phases of life. We’ve all been pretty successful in our respective fields. So we collaborate, invest in each other. We all work together. The name is just a little tip of the hat to ourselves. That we aren’t just friends and partners, but family.”
She shook her head. “Who would have thought you and a group of successful men would run the city.”
“Well, not just men. You remember Alana Carter from college? She’s part of the group. She even made up the name. We all play very important roles in operations. Neither of us would be where we are now if not for each other.”
Rebecca nodded, thoughtful. She remembered the other woman from some college courses that they’d taken together. They’d become close, and even though Alana had been one of Brett’s closest friends, Rebecca had considered her a friend, as well. Her heart softened a bit to think they’d remained friends all these years. Rebecca had spent most of her adult life not needing anyone, and she couldn’t help but envy Brett a little in that respect. “And the name? Di Terrestres?” she asked, looking around at the richly appointed room, as she thought back to the Latin classes she’d taken as a young woman.
“It goes back to Roman mythology. The name comes from di inferi, a cabal of shadowy deities associated with the underworld. There are the gods above and below—” he moved his hand up and down, and then gestured to room as a whole “—but di terrestres are the gods of the earth.”
“Gods of the earth? How wonderfully modest of you,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
He ignored her snide remark, and without warning, he pulled her arm, whipping her around to face him. She gasped as his palms landed low on her back, just above the curve of her ass. His touch was hot and firm. “Why be modest when you can live like a god?”
“So what goes on here, exactly?” Rebecca hated the breathy nature of her voice, and the way Brett’s hands felt on her as they traveled lower, smoothing over her rear. He squeezed and pulled her closer, so that she could feel his hard cock against her stomach, and she gasped, the air rushing into her lungs as her heart pounded. She felt a kick of heat low percolate within her. She tried to breathe past the desire and focus on having a conversation with him. “It doesn’t look like a normal club, and I couldn’t find any information available to the public about the goings-on here.”
“There is no information available to the public. Our membership is exclusive. But, really, this is just a place where people come to mingle after a long day.”
She stared at him. “Okay, what about over there?” She pointed at the booths along the back wall where people were still engaged in various intimate scenes—clutched in embrace, touching, kissing, whispering. Brett had referred to the guests as mingling. They were indeed doing that.
Brett chuckled. “Jealous?” he asked with a smirk, looking right into her, digging his fingers into her ass. “All right. Those are people who are taking advantage of the secrecy and discretion that we offer. People feel safe here, and they can do anything they like without it being leaked to the gossip rags. We also have some suites upstairs, if people feel so inclined to use them and if they want a little privacy...for any purpose. The rooms, along with membership fees, are expensive. But we have concierges who take care of what people need, and whether the rooms are used for sex or for someone to crash in after drinking too much, we don’t care about what goes on in them. As long as whatever happens is between consenting adults, it isn’t our concern.”
“So this is a sex club?”
“No, it’s not a sex club. It’s a social club, for people who like to indulge in more erotic pursuits.” His voice was firm and flat. He was obviously getting impatient with her questions. He pointed to the area she’d assumed was a dance floor. “But we also provide entertainment. There are erotic stage shows that happen over there every night. We bring in professionals, and they do things like bondage demos, fire play, sultry dancing, erotic gymnasts... And there are some other benefits to membership.”
“Like what?”
He hesitated. “That’s privy only to members. For people who want a little more of a public experience.”
“You don’t trust me to tell me what that is?”
“Not really. No.” He winked at her. She saw the playful glint in his eyes that she remembered.
It was her turn to laugh, and she pushed her hips against him, pressing against the hard length behind his zipper. Then he flinched. The movement was so small she almost missed it, and he covered it quickly.
“Well, if you insist,” he relented, his words more of a breath. “But you have to promise to never tell anyone.”
“What if I did?”
“Then the punishment will be severe,” he warned her, but the corner of his mouth ticked up playfully. “There are exhibition rooms set up downstairs, for a more complete, immersive experience. And for those who like to watch and be watched.”
Rebecca saw the heat and mischief in his eyes, and she was more than interested in what went on down there, but as she felt a familiar desirous flush come over her once again, she shook herself free of it. She almost asked to go see it. But no. She had to keep her wits about her. She was there to talk business, not sex. Right? As they stood in the middle of the club, his hands on her ass, she wasn’t so sure. “Maybe we should just talk business,” she offered, taking another look around the club, knowing that nothing would get done as long as they stood in the middle of a three-ring circus of erotica. “Why don’t we go to your office now?”
* * *
The BH, which The Brotherhood had built, was a prominent fixture of the Las Vegas skyline that housed Di Terrestres, but it was also the base of operations for all The Brotherhood’s enterprises. Brett, Alex, Rafael, Gabe and Alana all kept offices and private suites in the building, for the nights they worked so late that it only made sense to stay instead of going home.
Brett walked Rebecca to the private elevator that was for their own use only, and using a special key card, he called it to the club’s foyer on the ground floor. They had to wait only a few moments before the doors in front of them parted. Brett gestured for Rebecca to go before him. The doors closed and her scent filled the elevator, and during their silent ride to the top floor, he inhaled it—light and citrusy. Brett’s gaze trailed over her as she stepped into the hallway. His eyes traveled over her body and he imagined watching her apply her perfume to her pulse points—the insides of her wrists, behind her earlobes and, as his eyes dipped to the low-cut V of her blouse, between her breasts.
Rebecca cleared her throat, and his eyes snapped up to meet hers. Her arched eyebrow told him that she’d caught him staring. He shrugged in response, not one bit sorry. Despite what he had in store for her, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he was thrilled that she’d shown up at his club tonight. They might be business rivals, former lovers, current enemies, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t picture her naked. That was one of his privileges as her ex.
He walked out of the elevator and cupped his fingers around her elbow. She shot a glare at him at the intimate contact and pulled away. He smirked and they continued their silent walk to his office, their footsteps the only noise echoing off the walls of the empty hallway. He escorted her all the way down to the farthest door, and using his thumbprint on a scanner, he unlocked it, then opened it with a click.
Brett held the door open for her and followed Rebecca inside his office, closing it behind them. His office was silent, away from the noise of the club and the revelry of the Las Vegas Strip just a few miles away, and that was just the way he liked it. He spent most of his time in the well-appointed office, and he was glad he’d gone for luxury and comfort when he’d designed it.
Leaning against the wall by the door, folding his arms across his chest, he watched Rebecca as she navigated his space. She looked around at the photographs of his friends and parents on the shelves, the awards and accolades he’d received from the business community. He’d never brought a woman all the way up to his office before, outside of business hours, for any purpose other than work. That didn’t mean he didn’t use Di Terrestres for its intended purpose. If he met someone downstairs at the club and the chemistry was right, he had no problem taking one of the available private rooms or going to a nearby hotel. But his office, and the bedroom suite it contained, was strictly his domain. His territory. And now there was Rebecca, a blast from his past, sexy, stunning Rebecca in front of him, surveying one of his most private areas. He knew he was crossing a line for himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now.
“This is your office, huh?”
He nodded slowly. “It is.”
“It’s big. Bigger than mine.”
It was big, probably bigger than he needed, but he liked it; it impressed his partners and collaborators and it intimidated his competitors. This space, along with his cars, his home, his tailor-made suits and five-hundred-dollar haircut, all combined to portray the image he needed to present. He’d worked hard to create the glossy exterior he showed to the world—it was a reminder to him of his past, of how far he’d come since taking control of his life as a teen addict, and of how differently his life could’ve gone if he hadn’t.
Business was partially about the show, the spectacle. But he couldn’t read Rebecca’s opinion as he watched her walk over to the kitchenette area, between the wet bar he kept stocked for guests and the espresso machine that was necessary to get him through every day. Despite his refusal to indulge in drugs and alcohol in the past twelve years, he had to admit that he still had his vices, and caffeine wasn’t the only one. His other vice was standing next to the small fridge across the room. “You know, as CEO, you can change that,” he told her.
She turned to face him and crossed her arms, as well. Her stance was defiant, but the smirk on her face was playful. “I’m not like you. I’m not preoccupied with size. I don’t need a bigger office to intimidate anyone.”
“Oh, really? And what are your intimidation tactics?”
“My superior intellect. And confidence. You should know I don’t take crap from anybody.”
He knew that. Oh, boy, did he know that.
“What’s through there?” she asked, pointing at the closed door in front of her.
He walked over to where she stood, stepping up close to her, so close that her breasts skimmed his chest. He didn’t respond to her question for a moment, and feeling her so close almost made him forget the question. He looked down at her, resting his palms on her shoulders, and then he dragged them down her bare arms. Her skin was like the smoothest silk under his touch. “Through there is a bedroom.”
Her mouth opened, a perfect surprised O. He could tell the depth of the breath she took when her breasts pushed into his chest. “You sleep in your office?”
“It’s just a simple bedroom. And sometimes, if I’m working late, it makes more sense to stay here than to drive home in the middle of the night, just to come back early the next morning.” His hands reached her wrists, and then he grasped her hips. “Do you want to see it?”
She rolled her eyes and stepped away from him. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Is this your normal MO?” she asked, taking a step back and quirking a brow. “Meeting women at your club and bringing them back up to your fancy office-slash-bedroom?”
Considering the moment over, Brett also took a step back. “I’ve never brought another woman to my office for something that wasn’t work related. And this is a work-related meeting apparently. So what did you want to talk about?”
“How about hostile takeovers, to start?”
“Okay, what about them?”
“Don’t play stupid. It’s not a good look for you.”
“All right.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Then start talking.”
“I want to know why you’re doing it.”
He shrugged. They’d moved seamlessly from a conversation tinged with innuendo to one about work. “We talked about this. It’s a good business move,” he explained simply. “It’s not personal, Rebecca. DI has been our competition in this town for years now. Collins/Fischer is setting itself up to be the biggest real estate development firm in Las Vegas. That means you need to go.”
“So you already said. I understand why you’re doing it professionally, especially if it’s retribution for poaching your executive. But let me tell you, he came to me. I don’t run my business with retribution in mind. I’m not interested in games. I’m just questioning the timing of all this.”
“You’re being paranoid.” He waved a dismissive hand.
“I don’t think so. Sure, we had some back-and-forth. But the takeover bid shows up on my desk on Monday. Meanwhile your fingers were inside me on Saturday, which was the first time we’ve actually interacted in person in years. So what’s that? Are you trying to tell me that it’s all a coincidence?”
“Maybe I was looking for a new project and seeing you again inspired me.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I’m a businessman.”
“Brett, we go way back. We haven’t always been exactly nice to each other. In fact, we hated each other, and the only thing we had in common was raw attraction and mutual orgasms. But if this is some sort of game you’re playing because we used to sleep together, I thought you had more integrity than that.”
“Believe it or not, Rebecca, I didn’t spend those years pining for you, wishing to get balls deep in your sweet pussy again, okay? Nor did I spend it thinking about you at all.” His lips clamped together stubbornly, before he revealed that it was a lie. He had thought about her. Maybe they hadn’t been friends, maybe they hadn’t even liked each other at all, but there was something about Rebecca Daniels that had always drawn him in. She was the one who came to him when he was alone in the middle of the night and couldn’t sleep. Hers was the face he pictured as he pushed his hand under the blankets and fisted himself to get some relief. She was one of the first people he’d ever told about his high school addiction after starting college. One late night in the darkened business library after they’d hooked up again. He’d never been so open before, and that alone made her stand out, threw him in a way he wasn’t used to, even back then.
She huffed out a frustrated breath next to him. He was close enough to feel the warm air on his face. “You know I’m never going to let you take over my father’s company, my company, right?”
“You can try to stop me, but you’ve seen the price we’re offering your shareholders. I know that DI has been underperforming in the past couple of years. Do you think you can beat it? Think you can hold on to your shareholders?”
She visibly straightened. He knew that she couldn’t. “I’ll find a way.”
“And I don’t have a definitive number, but I know that our offer has already been accepted by several of your shareholders. Did you know that?” He took a step closer to her. “It’s not too late, you know. You could just sign over your shares to me now. The premium we’re offering above market price is a fair one.”
“You think I’m just going to sign over my ownership of Daniels International? I knew you were arrogant, but to think that I would just turn my back on my family name... This is something else.”
“So why are you here?” he asked her, his chest growing tighter. With anger? Frustration? Desire? He had no idea. “Why did you come here tonight?”
“To ask you—because of, or in spite of, everything between us—to stop what you’re doing. Reconsider.”
“If you think I’m going to do that, you don’t know much about me at all.”
“I guess I never did know you.” She laughed. A small sad sound that almost made him wrap his arms around her. “I know we were never all that close, just two distant enemies who found common ground in sex, but there were moments when I really thought that we had a connection. And on Saturday night, out on the terrace...” She shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought there might still be that small something there between us. I guess I was wrong.”
Brett looked away from her. For a brief moment, a regret for the sadness he’d put on her beautiful face crept through him. But he tamped it down. She was playing him, using their past against him, and feelings had no place in business. “There was something,” he said matter-of-factly. “I made you come,” he said. He reached for his belt buckle, not wanting to think too much about the way his dick hardened in his pants. “So what? You want another go? I’d be down for that. I’ve got some time to kill.”
“Fuck you,” she bit out. “You know, I thought you could be reasonable. Maybe not destroy a company my father worked his ass off to build, just to—I don’t know—to beat me.”
She stalked past him, and before he could stop himself, he reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “Wait!”
“Let go of me,” she said as she whipped around and slapped her hand to his cheek. As her open palm met the side of his face, the sound cracked through his office and they both stood still, looking at each other. The anger in her eyes mirrored that in his, and their chests heaved in tandem with heavy heated breaths.
He could still feel the sting of the slap, but he held her wrist and yanked her to him. She came easily, and with not even a hairbreadth between them, her breasts were pressed tightly against him again.
“What do you want?” she asked him. Her tone was wary, but her eyes were alive and danced with fire.
The fight between the conflicting emotions within him died out as desire came out victorious. There was nothing else he could do but give in to it. “Right now?” he breathed after several beats of silence. “I want you.”
* * *
Rebecca was acutely aware of the rise and fall of her breasts with every heavy breath she took. His declaration had caused her heart to stutter in her chest. “And I guess you still always get what you want?” she managed to croak as her chest compressed.
He didn’t hesitate. He looked down at her, and she met his gaze head-on. “Always.”
Brett’s mouth crashed into Rebecca’s, and despite her hesitance at first, she quickly yielded to him, almost melting in his arms, falling against his body, as his arms tightened around her waist.
He kissed her and, taking her bottom lip between his own, he nibbled lightly. She gasped, and when her lips parted, his tongue took great advantage and plundered inside. He searched her mouth, and he tasted as potent as he ever had. Their teeth mashed, tongues met, twisting and dueling, mouths stealing each other’s air until Brett had to pull away. He dragged his lips across her smooth jaw and down her throat, nibbling her skin lightly, biting, licking, before he took her lips again.
Rebecca was gone. Business was the last thing on her mind. His lips broke away from her mouth and attacked her exposed throat again with the same vigor. “Fuck,” he whispered in her ear. “You still taste so goddamn good. If your mouth tastes this sweet, I wonder if your pussy still tastes as good.”
His voice made her tremble, and he held her tighter. Memories flashed through her mind. Pictures of them together half a decade ago. His lifting her, pressing her against the wrought iron fence bordering the academic quad. A cool nighttime breeze rushing over her, rustling the leaves on the tree they’d hid under, his palm over her mouth to stop her from screaming in pleasure while he’d entered her.
He palmed her breasts and walked them until they bumped the counter of his small kitchenette. Brett’s hands smoothed down her sides and reached around to grab her ass. He squeezed her, kneading her through her skirt, rough, demanding. He grasped her waist and lifted her onto the marble countertop between the sink and the espresso machine.
With a hand on each of her knees, he pushed her legs apart and stepped between her spread thighs. His fingers crawled up her bare thighs until they hit lace. She was wet, and she knew it pleased him. He smiled and stroked her. Moaning, Rebecca arched her body into him and, using two hands, he ripped the slight piece of lace from her body. He let the wasted fabric fall to the floor.
“We don’t exactly have an audience, like I know you want.” His voice was hoarse, heavy with lust. “But maybe next time.”
“Next time?” she breathed, throwing back her head, exposing her throat, where he kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin there.
He raised his head, looking at her. His eyes darkened to indigo-colored pools. “Oh, yeah. You’d better believe there’s going to be a next time.”
Rebecca sat on the counter, her thighs bracketing his hips, completely open, surrendered to him as she watched his eyes take in her still-clothed body. He was exploring her, using the image of her for his own pleasure and giving it in return. His palms found her breasts again and he squeezed. Her nipples—stiff, needy peaks—protruded through the thin lace of her bra and the silk blend of her dress. Through their impatience, some of the buttons of her shirt had come undone, and her open shirt was as much an invitation to him as were her parted thighs. He pushed her shirt aside, ducked his head and, through the lace of her bra, trapped one of her turgid nipples between his lips. Rebecca cried out as his tongue flicked the bud through the material. She knew each of the noises she made urged him on as they always had. He increased the suction and pressure, and she bucked against him. Wanting—needing—more.
His hands rested on his belt buckle and he loosened it, then lowered the zipper of his pants. When he reached into his boxer briefs and pulled his dick out, her eyes widened, anticipating what it would feel like to have him fill her again.
“Condom?” she breathed.
He nipped at the base of her jaw, then reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. He took out the condom. “We’re covered,” he murmured against her skin.
“Convenient.”
“I put it there after I saw you at the party. I knew I’d have you again. I knew the occasion would arise.”
“The opportunity isn’t the only thing that rose,” she said, grasping his cock with her fingers. He moaned out a chuckle against her skin, and his breath warmed her as he went about nuzzling, kissing, biting the heated skin of her throat and shoulders as he rolled the condom over his rigid length. The stubble of his five-o’clock shadow scratched against her skin like sandpaper, but she didn’t care. He grabbed her hips again and pulled her to him until the stiff column of his cock met her pussy. He held her in place, but she strained against him, hoping to speed up. But he held her still, teasing her, sliding himself over her bare flesh. Nudging along her lips toward the slick, needy flesh of her core. The delicious friction of his cock skating over her clit was wonderful, and it caused her to cry out. It took only a few strokes to bring her to orgasm, and she came, a bright light flashing behind her eyes. Arching her back, she pushed against him. But he kept up the same motions, staying with her until she quieted.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, her breath as shaky as her body while she came down from her orgasm. He hadn’t even entered her yet, and she was completely at his mercy.
“I’m not done yet,” he promised, pushing his cock into her in one smooth, solid thrust.
He filled her completely, and she gave a loud yell. She felt herself grip him, squeezing him, and the sensation attacking her already-wrought senses was almost too much for her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as she inhaled the leathery scent of his cologne. It was heady, masculine, but it paled in comparison with the innate scent of him. He surrounded her, taking her over so that she could barely think. Instead, she let instinct take over. Accepting him, lifting her hips, meeting his every thrust. He moved his hips back and forth, driving into her, a dance they knew as well as any other, and she surrounded him in turn, pulling him in. She felt the tension tightening like a spring inside him. Her breaths quickened and his movements become more frantic, and from the way he ground his teeth, she knew he was close.
For the second time that evening, Rebecca came, throwing her head back against the cupboard door behind her. Brett’s hips pumped quickly, until he stilled above her and let go with a loud grunt, burying his face in her hair.
With Brett’s weight and warmth pleasant against her, Rebecca sighed as her arms circled his neck, holding him in place. They were both silent for a moment, fighting valiantly to regain their breaths. Rebecca couldn’t move. She was paralyzed by both the postcoital haze and lethargy that came over her, but she was also trapped by Brett’s grip on her. She found it tough to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. So she didn’t even try. She closed her eyes and just focused on breathing and the bliss of their encounter, before the real world came back to them.
The calm lasted only a few seconds, and Brett pulled his face from the spot between her neck and shoulder to look at her. For a moment, she saw something, a familiar glimmer of what they’d sometimes shared after sex—a nearly imperceptible moment of intimacy—but then his eyes hardened and he pulled away from her, taking several steps back, putting physical and emotional distance between them. He exhaled a rough breath as he drove his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead.
Not sure if her knees would support her, she lowered herself from the counter, using the hard surface to support her weight as she straightened her clothes. Brett quietly disposed of the spent condom and zippered his pants.
Her senses restored, she felt deflated, disappointed. She’d meant to come here and appeal to Brett to stop the takeover of her business, but her hormones had gotten the better of her. When he turned back to her, his posture was rigid and hard. His mouth set firmly. She narrowed her eyes in response and squared her shoulders, trying to retain some semblance of dignity and normalcy, and she finally remembered why she was there.
She cleared her throat. “So I’ll ask you once again to reconsider your takeover of Daniels International.”
He shook his head, not taking his eyes from her. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Then I guess we have nothing else to discuss.”
“I guess we don’t.” He busied himself with some papers on his deck, not looking at her. “You can see yourself out.”
She gave a short stubborn nod, more of a quick dip of her chin in his direction, and left his office. The floor of Collins/Fischer was empty. Of course it was—it was well past business hours. Thankfully no one was around to catch her “walk of shame.” She stopped midstep. She felt worn but energized, disappointed in herself for not sticking to her guns but fulfilled after the best sex she’d had in half a decade. But did she feel shame?
No. “Fuck that,” she muttered to herself.
She quickly found the public elevator—not the private one she’d taken to the floor with Brett—and stepped inside. She had to figure out a way to undermine Brett’s takeover. There had to be some way that didn’t involve her actually being in the same room with him. She clearly couldn’t trust herself around him, and she shivered as she remembered the feeling of being pressed against him, taken by him, filled by him. It had been incredible but so not good for business. A shiver danced up her spine, and she looked at her reflection in the mirrored interior of the elevator, seeing the rash on her throat where his rough stubble had scratched against her. Yes, there had to be another way. But she needed a shower first. As long as she could still smell him on her skin, she wouldn’t be able to think about it.
After exiting the building, Rebecca looked up and down the street in search of a cab but saw none. She tapped open the Uber app on her phone and was about to find a ride when a black luxury town car pulled up to the curb in front of her and stopped.
The driver stepped out. “Ms. Daniels?”
“Yes,” she answered apprehensively.
“My name is Evan. Mr. Collins called me to meet you out here. He wanted me to make sure you got home all right.”
“Oh, really?” A laugh stuttered out of her chest. Brett hadn’t been too worried about her well-being when he’d coldly dismissed her from his office. “I’ll get a cab, thanks.” She looked up and down the street and found it dead quiet, almost impossibly so. Not one cab in sight. Great, the one time that there isn’t any traffic around here.
“Ma’am,” he replied politely. “Mr. Collins asked me to drive you home.” He came around the car to her side to open the rear door for her.
Before she got in the car, she looked up at the large high-rise behind her, and her gaze went straight to the top floor. Where Brett’s office was located. She could see that the lights were still on in many of the windows, and from her vantage point, she couldn’t see in any of them. But part of her was aware of Brett’s presence, watching her get into the car that he’d called for her, and the driver he’d managed to summon within minutes of her leaving his office. So, feeling saucy and ready to take him on, she smirked up at the building, held up her middle finger in a salute to her former lover/new business rival and stepped into the car.
* * *
After watching Rebecca leave with his driver, Brett pushed himself away from the large window of his office. He was tense, but still he laughed, pretty sure that he hadn’t imagined her ladylike parting gesture. He passed his desk, where the offer letter and information pertaining to the takeover sat. Rebecca was a complication he didn’t need. He couldn’t fulfill his dreams in this town with her nearby. His attraction to her had always been too heady—he’d never been able to control himself around her. Even as he’d hated her, competed with her for grades, he’d never been able to deny her when it came to sex. He couldn’t risk letting an affair muddle his brain with the local competition.
He’d come too far to lose everything he’d worked for. As a teenager, he’d found himself caught in a whirlwind of impulses and behaviors he’d felt too hopeless to control. He remembered the feeling of losing himself, the fear he’d never be the same again as the drugs and alcohol took hold of him, even as he craved more. He never wanted to be there again. It was his parents who had pulled him out of it, and the confidence he’d gained by becoming sober, by saying no to his addiction, had fueled him through college and shaped the man he was today and who he hoped to become. He had to stay on track until he got there.
But being with Rebecca again was... Fuck! It was fantastic. She was everything that he remembered and more. Her every movement, her sound, her scent. It had been deeply buried within him, ingrained on his soul, and in one day, one three-minute fuck, a moment of weakness, it all came rushing back. He never ran his business with his emotions—or his dick—and never mixed business with pleasure. He took a deep breath, hoping to break her hold on him. There was no way he could manage the takeover if he didn’t keep his libido under control. “That was a one-time thing,” he told himself as he headed for the elevator that would take him back down to the main floor of Di Terrestres. “Fuck,” he bit out, stabbing the button with his finger as the doors closed. The woman clouded his head, destroyed his focus, ruined his plans. He had to get rid of her, and maybe the takeover would accomplish just that. If he owned her company, why would she stick around?
When the doors pulled apart again, he found himself back in the crown jewel of their empire, and he found his friends without any trouble at their regular table. He took a deep cleansing breath, trying to calm his demeanor before seeing them, and he realized that he could still smell her on his clothes, seeped into his skin. He clenched his fists and joined his friends at their table. He had to wait only a few seconds before the waitress brought him a drink of soda water. He wished like hell he had a drink in his hand as his friends’ stares told him they had questions about his absence. Seeing Rebecca again, fucking her in his office had thrown him off guard. His heart still pounded in his chest, and his legs shook ever so slightly. He looked around the table, annoyed by his physical reaction to her but still stuck with an unsated desire for the woman he loved to hate. “Somebody say something,” Brett said to the group.
“Where have you been?” Rafael asked him, getting immediately to the interrogation.
“I had to take care of something upstairs.”
“Is that something Rebecca Daniels?” Alana asked. “We saw you go upstairs with her.”
There was no point in lying. “Yes, I was with Rebecca again.” Parched, he took a large swallow of his water.
“And?” Alex asked.
“She wanted to discuss, in private, our takeover bid of Daniels International.”
“You didn’t think I should be included on any discussions or negotiations?” Alex asked, and Brett could tell that he was still sore about their discussion earlier. He regretted it. At that pivotal moment in the business, Brett needed his partner and right-hand man on his side.
“Don’t worry. It wasn’t that formal, and it definitely wasn’t a negotiation. She just asked me to reconsider. I told her there was no way. The business comes first,” he said, attempting to placate them. “It comes before any feelings or nostalgia of what Rebecca and I had.”
“You fucked her, didn’t you?” Rafael asked him, even though they all knew the answer.
He didn’t respond right away, and apparently his silence spoke volumes to the group of people who knew him better than he knew himself.
“And I’m guessing she wasn’t successful in getting you to change your mind,” Alana said.
“Nope.”
“And I take it you guys didn’t part on good terms?” Gabe asked.
Brett remembered Rebecca’s middle-finger salute. “We did not.”
“You don’t think that maybe this will just make things harder for us?”
“Since when are we afraid of a challenge?” Brett shot back.
“Okay, man, what if she saw something? Our plans or something sensitive in your office.”
“She didn’t.” Brett was testy and completely disinterested in being questioned by his friends. He sat back in his chair. “You know what? It’s been a long day. I’m going to bed.”
Alex took the hint, and Brett was grateful that he relented. “Yeah, it has been.” He turned back to Brett. “You going home?”
He shook his head. “No, I think I might just stay here again. I’ve got a 7:00 a.m. working breakfast.”
“Again?” Alana asked. “Haven’t you stayed here every night the past couple of weeks? Why do you even have a home?”
“It’s mostly for appearances.” His smile was wry. “It makes my mom worry less.” He yawned, though it was mostly for show. He knew he wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight. But he needed some time alone to figure out just what he was going to do with Rebecca Daniels.