Fuck.

He left her the keys to the Bentley to go out and do whatever her little heart desired, but at this point if she took it and skipped town forever, he wouldn’t have blamed her. The verbal sparring had been fun at first. Now it was getting to him. If she wanted him to straight-up admit he was a selfish asshole, fine, he would. In his mind, he had damn good reason to be, even though his reasoning and excuses would never be enough for her. He had only set himself up for a month of getting harped at in between bouts of spectacular sex. The last thing he needed was a little angel on his shoulder with Emma’s voice, chattering in his ear.

At the gym and on the court, he pushed himself to exhaustion, until his muscles trembled on the verge of collapse, still tasting her sweetness on his tongue. The very animal in him that he tried to hide from her, she teased and tormented and poked at through the iron bars of his cage. If he ever busted out . . .

Sweat dripping from his hair and soaking his clothes, he hit the showers and changed and drove to the club, finding Stacia at her desk on the phone. He could barely manage more than a scowl for her and, sensing his mood as she was so capable of doing, she ended her call and followed him into his office with her pad at the ready.

She didn’t have to say “I told you so”; he could see it written all over her smug face. Hell, Emma herself had tried to warn him. “Shut up,” he said, dropping into his chair. At that, she burst out laughing.

“I didn’t say a word.”

“Your face did.”

“Ah. Forgive me for not having your ability to hide pure satisfaction.”

“I’m really starting to regret letting you know.”

She waved a hand and sat in one of the chairs across from his desk, putting her fucking feet up like she always did. It drove him nuts, but he was used to her by now. “You know you had to. Who else could cover for you guys like me?”

Yeah. She was one of the best, most elaborate liars he knew. He stood in awe at times. “So what’s your end game in all this? Emma doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl you can fuck at will and send on her way. You’ve probably chased away the best accountant we’ve had, and I’m gonna be the one to have to find a new one once the temp leaves. Way to fuck up, Damien.”

“I’m so goddamn glad that I have you and Emma both reaming my ass all the time. I wouldn’t know what to do without you. Now tell me everything I need to know about her dumbass brother.”

Stacia shrugged. “There isn’t much to know. I called all over town. The guy’s just a small-time addict. Some petty-theft charges, nothing major. Got in a bad way with some loan sharks, but managed to get out of it.”

Damien digested that in silence. Emma hadn’t mentioned theft charges, so he wondered if she even knew. Small-time with big debts. “Because Emma or her parents always get him out of it.”

“That’s not your problem, Damien. I just don’t want this guy to become a big problem for us.”

He looked at her sharply. “What are you hearing?”

“Nothing. I get bad vibes off him.”

Yeah, so did he. Weasel vibes. Petty, spiteful vibes. “Tell me exactly what he said when he showed up last night.”

“He came to my window and asked if you were here. I said, ‘Not tonight.’ Then he asked for your fucking address and I laughed. ‘Well, at least give me a number,’ he said. ‘My sister is with the asshole.’ I said, ‘Dude, then call your sister.’ He said she wasn’t answering. I said I couldn’t help him. He kind of banged his fist on the counter and walked out.”

She wasn’t answering because she’d been full of Damien’s cock right about then, and that gave him a rush of smirking satisfaction. Damn. I took all the guy’s money and fucked his sister. No wonder Benjamin was on the verge of eruption. It would be hilarious if only Damien didn’t suspect Benjamin might resort to chicken-shit vindictive means to bring this little empire down.

Safeguards were in place, yes. But all it would take was a phone call to the right person, and getting that person to listen . . . and Damien might have to activate those safeguards.

“Forgive me for saying so—or don’t—but none of this seems very smart.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it wasn’t. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“That’s what thinking with your dick gets you, Damien. If you wanted to fuck the girl, all you would’ve had to do was shove her over your desk and do it. She would’ve been accommodating.”

“You think so, huh?”

“Please. She lit up like a fucking Christmas tree every time she laid eyes on you. You didn’t have to let her move in to your fucking house, or buy her a closet full of clothes, and if you want to buy someone fucking Louboutins, buy them for me. I think I deserve them.”

He laughed. At least when Stacia rode his ass for something, she was on his level. “You have one of my credit cards. Knock yourself out.”

“Seriously?”

“You’re welcome.”

“Best boss ever. Hey, I was in the Galleria the other day and there was this Louis Vuitton—”

“Don’t push it.”

* * *

The Bentley smelled of warm leather and new car, and the engine purred like a kitten. Emma ran her hand over the buttery-soft seats, the steering wheel with its winged B in the middle, breathing the scent deeply. The only other car she’d ever been in that was as nice as this was Damien’s Jaguar. She was scared shitless to drive it, but she needed to get out.

Liz’s apartment was on this side of the city, so she didn’t have to brave the late-morning traffic for very far. Apparently, some kind of anguish registered all over her face, because her best friend’s expression fell as soon as she opened her front door. Liz ushered Emma straight inside and shut the door behind her. “Do I need to kill him?” she asked, taking her shoulders and surveying her face with concern.

Thank God for friends like Liz. “No, but I might.”

“What happened?”

“The best sex of my life.”

Liz’s smooth forehead furrowed. “Then what the hell are you so morose for?”

“Because he’s . . . fucking insufferable.”

“Most of the big-dicked sexual-dynamite men are, Emma. You should have known this going in. That’s why I said you weren’t ready for something like this.”

“Can you please stop? Ready or not, I’m there. I’m with him. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m all . . .”

“Twitterpated?”

Emma laughed. “Yeah, something like that.”

Liz shook her blond head in sympathy, then led the way to the kitchen. “I knew this, I knew it,” she muttered as she headed to the cabinet where she kept the tea.

Emma sat at her little bistro table. “I know you knew it, now tell me what to do about it. I feel like I’ve always been pretty tough, you know? Like I could hold my own. But he makes me feel . . .”

“Weak,” Liz said knowingly.

“I honestly don’t know how anyone will ever follow up last night. Hell, I don’t know how he can follow up last night.”

“This is only the beginning. I’m sure he will. This is a disaster waiting to happen. You’re gonna fall, Em, and you’re gonna fall hard, and you can’t.”

“Don’t say that.”

“That’s what you’re here to say, and also to ask for my advice, but I don’t have any for you that you don’t already know. Run.”

“That isn’t an option.”

“Why? Because of Benjamin? Oh my God, Emma. Fuck. Him. Listen to me. Get out of this thing with Damien while you still have your heart intact. It’s all fun and games until he makes you come.”

Emma blushed hard. Liz always talked openly like that about sex, and she would eventually begin pumping for explicit details, so she steered the conversation away. “You should see the closet full of clothes he gave me. You might change your mind.”

“No, I’ll just alter my advice. Take that shit and run.”

“I’m driving his Bentley, too.”

Liz didn’t even look up from filling her little kettle at the sink. “Take the car, take the clothes, and run.”

Emma burst out laughing. “You’re so bad. He didn’t give me the Bentley, by the way.”

“Speaking of . . . where’s Bentley Boo Bear? How’s he handling this?”

“He’s okay.” She’d left him confined in the bathroom, even though he seemed to be adjusting fine.

“I don’t know, Em. I’m worried about you.” Liz set the kettle on the stove and walked over to sit down at the table. “Was he good to you, at least?”

“He’s . . . demanding.” Emma watched her friend watch her. The good thing about having a sexually open friend was that she could make inquiries like . . . “You’ve had anal, right?”

“Yes,” Liz said, drawing the single syllable out suspiciously. “He went there? The first fucking time?”

“I thought he was going to. And I get the feeling he will.” She didn’t let on that he’d straight-up said it. The memory of his palm perfectly stinging her ass cheek when she hadn’t answered him right away reverberated through her, and it was all she could do not to squirm.

“Do you want to?”

She wanted him in every way she could have him. He made her want things that might never occur to her otherwise. That’s what terrified her. “Maybe.”

“So I see you’re not taking my advice. In that case, take this piece. Lube, Emma. Lots and lots of lube. I’m sure he knows this. Don’t let him anywhere near your ass if he doesn’t use it.”

Emma’s blush intensified. Liz kept staring at her worriedly. “Okay.”

“You know you can come here if you need to get away.”

“Liz. You talk like I’m in danger or something. It’s nothing like that, I promise. Today he’s out, and I just needed to talk. Damien . . . I don’t know, he has a strange honor about him. I can’t explain it. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“He lives by his own moral code.”

“Exactly.”

“One that damn sure doesn’t line up with yours.”

“No, it doesn’t. And I keep pushing him about it. I can’t help myself.”

“Do not go into this thinking you can change him. Accept him as he is, and do what you have to do, and get the fuck out of there.”

Now that was more realistic than running. That, maybe she could do. Maybe. Keep her mouth shut, enjoy his house and cars and body, take her fucking money, and go. “Close myself off, basically. That’s so hard for me to do.”

“You don’t have to close yourself off. Just make things easier on yourself. He is who he is. You are who you are. Let it be.” Then Liz did a comical little sway and sang the latter to the tune of the chorus of the Beatles’ song. As Emma laughed, the kettle began to whistle, and Liz jumped to her feet. “But congratulations on getting your world rocked, in any case. It makes you see things differently, doesn’t it? The sky is bluer, the grass greener, the fucking birds frolicking, I don’t know. You look beautiful, by the way. You have the glow, I saw it when I opened the door, despite you being all dour. He agrees with you.”

If only they could agree in other areas. A few minutes later, Liz brought their teacups over, and they sipped and talked about more mundane things before Liz turned to check the time and said, “How ’bout we go to lunch? I want to ride in a Bentley.”

Emma giggled and set down her cup. “I was scared to death driving it over here.”

“I’ll drive it, hell.”

“Oh no. I know how you drive.”

“I’m a perfect driver! Never got so much as a dent.”

“Only a mountain of speeding tickets.”

“You’re no fun. Fine. But there’s that little place up the street that has those great salads. We don’t have to go far.”

Liz bounced happily in the Bentley’s passenger seat, playing with the dashboard monitor while the ice-cold air-conditioning blew their hair and eradicated the building Houston heat. Late spring, and it was already pushing ninety. “I still say he picked the wrong girl!” she teased, turning to survey the backseat, and then back to open the glove compartment. She snooped through a few papers and other things that Emma couldn’t see.

“Will you stop?” she said, laughing. When Liz finally closed the little door and went to open the center console, she smacked her hand away. “I mean it! Stop looking through his stuff.”

“Well, if he’s into some shady shit, don’t you think you need to know?”

“If he is, then I seriously doubt he would leave it in the car he gave me permission to drive, dummy.” Still, she prayed there was nothing to find.

“True, I guess.” Liz settled back in her seat and pointed ahead. “Up there on the right. I’m starving. Is he springing for lunch? Did he leave you a credit card?”

“No.”

“What kind of bullshit is that? Demand a card.”

Emma knew he would probably give it without a second thought. But she would never ask. Now, if he offered . . .

“I think you are absolutely right. He totally picked the wrong girl. Instead of going back to him, I’m going to send you.” Even as she said it, laughing, she thought, Over my dead body. God. Those orgasms he’d given her had shaken her so hard that something was still trembling deep inside, sending aftershocks skittering through her. Everything was sensual torture, even the vibrations of the road. The bra she was wearing—one of the pieces from her closet—was soft as butter against her breasts. The seam in the crotch of her jeans pressed against her clit, still ultra-sensitized from his attentions this morning. She was still sore, still raw, but somehow still horny.

“I do love a man who appreciates the finer things in life.” Liz sighed as Emma pulled into the diner’s parking lot and killed the engine. That was it, she thought, remembering his wine analogy from last night. Whether clothes, cars, homes, or sex, Damien only wanted the best. Perhaps the most endearing thing about him was that he was exceedingly generous about sharing it. The clothes in her closet, her being behind the wheel of his expensive car, her enjoying the use of his house, all spoke to that.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

They were seated in a booth near the window so Emma could keep an eagle eye on the car. She didn’t trust people.

“Okay, so,” Liz began with a glance up from her menu. Her friend’s blue eyes were devilish with glee. “Details.”

Emma let one corner of her mouth tug upward. Suddenly she wanted to spill all those explicit secrets—hell, she so rarely had any. Who knew she’d be one to kiss and tell? “He spanks.”

Liz’s head fell back in mock ecstasy. “Unf.”

“That’s something I never thought I would like much, and it kind of shocked me when he did it, but oh my God.”

“Nothing like a guy who knows how to do it right. Right place, right time, right force . . . it can send you through the roof.”

“Well, I was pretty much already there. Like, I was through the roof before we even began,” Emma said, and they dissolved into giggles like a couple of high schoolers. The waitress brought them their waters, and Emma tried to get a grip on her giddiness, but it was useless.

Once their waitress was well out of earshot, Liz leaned closer. “You might be thanking God Benjamin sucks so bad at poker before this is over.”

And that did it. Emma felt all traces of mirth drain from her face. She knew Liz didn’t mean any harm, but the mere mention of him could kill every shred of a good mood in a heartbeat.

“Oh God. I’m sorry,” Liz said. “That was a stupid thing to say, Emma.”

“No, you’re totally fine.” She conjured up a reassuring smile for her friend. “I talked to Mom before I left yesterday. I tried to get her to promise me not to help him anymore. She couldn’t make herself do it, Liz. They’re going to let him keep taking and taking from them. Then Ben showed up, and keeps throwing it in my face that he hasn’t asked them for anything, but I know his cycles. I’m bailing him out this time, but what about next time?”

“Emma, honey . . . I know you adore your parents, and your parents are adorable . . . but sometimes you have to let people make their own mistakes. Please try not to get mad at me for saying this, but they let him put them into this situation, and if they keep bleeding money into his pockets then they’re perpetuating the cycle, too.”

“You sound like Damien,” Emma said wryly. “But you’re right. I said as much to Mom. My enabling of him stops as soon as this is over. I can’t do any more for him. I’ve literally turned myself into a prostitute now.”

“Oh, the hell you have,” Liz scoffed. “That’s crazy talk, and you need to get it out of your head. Ain’t a damn thing wrong with prostitution anyway, you know, but you simply took an option that was placed before you.”

“All right, all right.” Emma waved a quelling hand. “I’m trying to get beyond the moral implications of it, because we have a long way to go. I’m going to try to lighten up on Damien, too. So let’s move on.”

“Okay, well, you’re the one who said it.” Liz wagged a finger. “I don’t want to hear you say it again. You’re a strong, gorgeous woman using all the tools in the arsenal God gave ya to save the people you love.”

“Ahh, so I’m a superhero. We need to come up with a name.”

“Well, fuck. Pussy Galore is already taken.”

Somewhere in the middle of the laughter, Emma knew she would be okay.