by Kendra Leigh
“You will allow me?” I scoffed with a shake of my head.
“Yes. I will allow you.” He nodded at my food. “Eat.”
“So, does this mean I’m forgiven?” I asked, indicating our entwined hands. He shrugged and then nodded. “Good.” I pulled my hand from under his, my smile diminishing. “My turn, then.”
“Your turn for what?” he scowled defensively.
“Natasha Stephens, that’s what.”
“Why have you got a problem with Natasha?”
“‘Why have you got a problem with Natasha?’” I mimicked derisively. Ethan tipped a warning brow in response, but I plowed on regardless. “I wasn’t comfortable with the way you manhandled her. Or her you, for that matter. Tell me—who the hell kisses their lawyer?”
“Hang on a minute. How did I manhandle her?”
“You… fondled her hair.”
“Fondled her…” He broke off on a laugh steeped in bewildered amusement. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“You helped her into her jacket. The way you gathered her hair was too… intimate. The fact that you did it without even realizing is even more worrying. Why did she kiss you and stroke your goddamn arm? What was all that about?”
“Natasha and her family have been Wilde Industries’ lawyers for its entire lifecycle. Her father dealt with my father, her grandfather with my grandfather. Our families have shared meals together, our fathers rounds of golf and poker games. I suppose you could say we’re friends. We’re relaxed around each other—we’re not intimate. I realize it probably isn’t a conventional affiliation, but I can assure you, it is completely innocuous. I apologize if it didn’t appear that way. Eat.”
“It didn’t appear that way. And, actually, it’s immaterial that your families have history. I found your cavorting inappropriate, and I’m not entirely comfortable with it. In fact, I’m not comfortable at all.”
Ethan bit down on his lip attempting to stifle a smirk. “You’re jealous.”
“She wants you.”
He blinked slowly, dismissively. “It’s business.”
“She wants you.”
“She can’t have me.”
My eyes widened in surprise. I’d expected him to deny it. “You knew?”
“Of course. Subtlety isn’t her thing. That’s why she’s good at her job.”
“Then you’re encouraging her advances.” I was horrified.
“No, I simply pay no heed to them, tolerate them—for the sake of business and to save us both some embarrassment.”
“Well, I’m afraid that won’t do. Because I certainly will not tolerate anyone who offers themselves on a plate to my man, and I will have no problem embarrassing her by telling her as much.”
“Your criticism is noteworthy; I wouldn’t expect you to tolerate it. Angel, please will you eat.”
To my annoyance, he was being incredibly reasonable, so I took the opportunity to lay it out straight. “It might help if you were less tactile yourself. Touching her hair is…” I shuddered “…off limits.”
“Quite right. I will make a conscious effort to keep my distance in the future.” The smile was tugging at the edge of his lip again. He was enjoying this—me in this riled and painfully jealous state.
Glowering suspiciously, I picked up my fork to eat. “Why didn’t she know about me?”
“It’s none of her damn business, and I don’t discuss us with anyone. Are you done?” He smiled openly now as I glared at him, trying to decide if I had anything else to add. Suddenly, he began to laugh, reaching over to rub at the furrow on my forehead. “Baby, you’re the only girl for me. You should know this. I love you. Look…” he pointed at the red mark on his knuckle, the result of hitting the dribbling asshole “…this is how much I love you. To the point of crazy.” He grasped my hand again. “Now—am I forgiven?”
“One more question.”
Ethan rolled his eyes and sighed. “Ask.”
“Why do you have to see her tomorrow?”
“We have the meeting with Valiente and his board tomorrow. Finally. Damon and I have been working on closing this deal for ever. We want it wrapped up before my parents come home at the end of the week. Lawyers for both companies will be present at the meeting.”
My stomach twisted into a heap of nerves at the mention of his parents. I was worried about meeting them, worried they wouldn’t like me. But I couldn’t let my thoughts digress just now; one worry at a time was enough. I watched as Ethan cleared his plate and lay his knife and fork down.
“Who is this Valiente?” I asked. I’d heard Ethan mention the name several times now, always with a degree of irritation.
“You’ve heard of VS Network Solutions?”
“The telecommunications company?”
“Yes, a market leader in all things wireless. This year was the fifth time it’s been included by inc. magazine in its annual ranking of the nation’s fastest growing private companies. My father invested in the company back in 2008—a substantial investment. The upshot is that Wilde Industries owns fifteen percent, and VS wants it back. Raymon Valiente—the V in VS—is one of the co-founders. He’s been trying to close the deal on the market share value, but we’re having none of it. He can bleat about the Dow Jones all he likes, but everything has a value, and his frantic desperation to get his hands on our share has a least a fifteen million dollar price tag on it.”
I gasped. “Wow. Why would you sell it if it’s worth so much?”
“VS is a lucrative business in a rapidly evolving industry, but it’s not Wilde Industries’ typical territory. If we play our hand right, we should make a cool one hundred million return on the investment.”
My mouth dropped open in absolute shock. I recalled Ethan making a flippant comment some time ago, about the deal not being finalized because they were arguing over a couple of million. I’d thought he was joking, or exaggerating at least.
I finished my food and Ethan checked his watch. “I’m afraid I have to go, baby. Jackson is outside to take you to the gallery.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“I may be late tonight. Can I trust you to behave yourself and go straight home?” I nodded again and he stood, reaching down to kiss me on the forehead. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about this cheeky bastard client who wants to take you to dinner, either.”
Sloane. I groaned inwardly at the reminder. Then I realized why he’d been so reasonable about allowing me to lay down the law with Natasha Stephens. It meant I had no wiggle room when he called the shots about Sloane. Clever. I opened my mouth to speak, but Ethan got in first.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to discuss it later, baby, I’m running late for a meeting.” Cupping my cheek, he kissed me again, this time a full-on, taking possession, consuming kiss. “Mine remember? See you later.”
Jia was as delicate as she deserved to be, but absurdly upbeat. When she’d woken that morning, she said she’d felt a sense of liberty and relief. She had her old sparkle back—a vivacious buoyancy of spirit that I hadn’t realized was missing until I witnessed its return.
“Being single again appears to suit you,” I said, taking the proffered coffee cup from her hand. “You’re practically fizzing.”
She grinned happily. “I know, right? I feel bad because I should probably feel bad, but I just don’t. Is that really bad?”
“You can’t force it, friend. And if you could, what would be the point?”
“It has a lot to do with you, you know? Why I decided to end it, I mean.”
My blood ran instantly cold as I raised my cup to my mouth, hoping to conceal the look of horror on my face. I took a sip as my mind rifled through my options of how to respond, and then suddenly Jia was laughing.
“Don’t look so worried, bitch, you’re not my type.” The relief was so intense, I was certain I actually physically sagged. “What I meant, was that it was you who opened my eyes to the possibility of love.”
Thoroughly confuse
d, I shook my head. “What the fuck are you talking about, Jia?”
“What I’m talking about, is I want a slice of what you’ve got with Wilde. I didn’t know that shit actually existed until you guys. I thought all that needing someone to get your ass out of bed in the morning, because without them you can’t find your fucking heartbeat, only happened in the movies.”
My face lit up in wonder, wonder of what this woman had done with my moody, fiery friend.
Jia frowned at my response. “What?”
“You pussy,” I mocked.
“You were a fucking pussy first, bitch.”
We laughed until our sides hurt, for me, not only because this side of Jia was incredibly amusing, but because I was elated with relief that Ethan and Charley had clearly got it wrong. Jia loved me, yes. But as a friend, nothing more.
We spent the rest of the afternoon discussing the Sloane proposition. I told her about the telephone call and showed her the email, to which her response was, “That is totally funked out.”
We agreed that my visiting his apartment didn’t seem a wise thing to do, and that if it was a nonnegotiable element of the deal, then as the curator of Evoke, she would go. I told her I’d have Jackson accompany her, just in case he turned out to be the serial killer architect with a Polly Pocket-sized hole in his wall made especially for her. We also agreed that it would make sense for her to be present at the meeting on Tuesday, and that if dinner was mentioned, she would invite herself along. That would be sure to appease my man, if nothing else.
After trawling through disks of images, we slowly began to collate a selection which fitted with each aspect of Sloane’s remit. We worked until the early evening, sharing a bottle of wine and eating noodles from cartons. By nine that night, Jackson had deposited me safely home. I bathed and, having found one of Ethan’s shirts to wear, snuggled down in my chair in front of the aquarium to wait for him.
It was much later when I had the sense of being gathered into his arms, his wonderful Ethan scent pervading my nostrils as I burrowed into his neck.
“What time is it?” I muttered sleepily, vaguely aware that I was being carried into the bedroom.
“Past your bedtime, by the look of things. Now come on, get into bed.” He placed me gently on my feet and pulled back the comforter. I was about to crawl in when he stopped me. “Uh, wait a second. Arms up.” Gripping the hem of the shirt, he pulled it over my head, turning me to slap me gently on my bare ass. “I want you naked, Cinders. Always naked. Now in.”
“What time is it?” I tried again, though my interest in the time of day was swiftly waning, overshadowed by the sight of Ethan’s body being slowly revealed as he peeled away his layers of clothing. It had the same effect on me every time, my inner core heating and melting with the need for his touch. His toned, lithe limbs moving smoothly, effortlessly, his perfect skin and perfect face a flawless sheet of beauty in the moonlight.
Show over, he crawled into bed behind me, his warm, solid chest against my back, his arms surrounding me. “It’s late, you need to sleep.” Burrowing his nose into my hair, he inhaled. “I’ve missed you.”
Arching my back, I pressed my ass up against his increasing firmness and wiggled. “So I see.”
“Angel,” he warned halfheartedly. “You need to sleep.”
I swiveled around in his arms, pressing my lips against his and whispered, “Not as much as I need to feel you inside me.”
I felt him smile beneath my lips, his tongue lapping gently in search of mine, and suddenly I wasn’t tired in the least.
Chapter Six
I felt a warm wetness on the tip of my nose and opened one eye. Ethan’s smiling, handsome face gazed down at me. He was freshly showered and dressed in an immaculate suit, his divine scent wafting into my senses. He kissed the tip of my nose again, and I began to stretch lazily like a feline in the midday sun.
“God, you’re absolutely adorable when you just wake up.” He nuzzled me again.
“You’re adorable all of the time. Why are you dressed? What time is it?”
“It’s early. I have to leave soon, though. Come and have breakfast with me before I go. I can’t bear to face the day without starting it with you.”
“Okay,” I said willingly. “I’ll be two minutes, just need to use the bathroom.”
The smell of toast and coffee filled the main room when I appeared a few minutes later, dressed, as usual, in Ethan’s shirt. He smiled and placed the paper he was reading on the table. “I could have sworn I saw at least one silk robe in your closet.” He reached for my hand and pulled me onto his lap, then thrust a piece of toast into my hand.
“You saw several actually. I just prefer to wear something of yours so I can permanently smell you. You don’t mind do you?” I asked, biting into the toast and then shifting to feed it to Ethan.
“Of course not. I like you in my shirts.” He took a bite. “I also like you out of my shirts.” He reached inside and cupped a breast, rolling my nipple gently until it stiffened, making me wriggle with pleasure in his lap. “And I also enjoy going to work smelling of you.”
Thoughts of yesterday came rushing to heat my blood, allowing me a vague hope that a repeat performance was in the cards. “I thought you were in a hurry?”
“Yes, you’re right, I am. Thank you for the reminder.” He released my breast, dashing my hopes at the same time and leaving me wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. “I wanted to give you these before I left.” He pointed to the paper he’d been reading, one of several on the table, and I noticed my name printed at the top.
“What’s this?” I asked, tossing the toast onto a plate to swap it for the document.
“It’s a joint bank account. I’ve deposited five million into it for now. I thought it would be nice for you to have access to funds to buy whatever you like for yourself or for the apartment.” He reached over to scatter the pile of other documents. “There are also a couple of credit cards and shareholder details of several companies I’ve taken the liberty to invest in on your behalf. You could have some fun watching them grow, or do some buying and selling yourself if you like.”
I gaped at him in utter astonishment. “Ethan, I don’t need these. I have my own money. If I need to buy something, I’ll just use that.”
“Well you won’t have to now, not if you’ve got access to our funds. You can use your money to expand your business.”
“What do mean, expand?”
“Well, you could look for bigger premises so you can take on more artists. Or get a second gallery, even a third, eventually.”
Where the hell had all this come from. “I like things the way they are, E.”
Hurt flashed through his eyes briefly. “Things don’t have to stay the way they are though, do they? Not when you have the resources to progress.”
Feeling suddenly irritated and pressured, I shifted, moving from his lap and pouring myself a cup of coffee for thinking time. When I was ready, I sat down in the chair opposite. “I’m not like you. I’m not a big shot business woman. I’m just a relatively successful photographer who owns a comparably small gallery. I feel fortunate to have what I’ve got, blessed, in fact. It’s never crossed my mind to develop it into anything other than what it is.”
He paused, seeming to absorb what I’d said. “Well, it’s your business. You have every right to proceed in whichever way makes you feel comfortable. Maybe it’s something you could consider in the future.”
“Yes, perhaps.”
He stared at the documents on the table, not meeting my eye. “And does the same apply for everything else in your life? The rate and extent you wish to evolve, I mean?” Without altering the angle of his head, his eyes darted to my face, seemingly eager for my response.
Uncertain as to what he was really getting at, I responded with a simple shrug.
“I’m assuming that means our relationship is something else you have no mind to develop? Only I thought we’d concurred on the issue of what’s mine
is yours when you agreed to live with me.” He seemed a little annoyed now.
“Well, yes. But to this extent?” I held up the piece of paper which declared in large, bold, shouty numbers, a five million dollar balance.
“Yes, Angel. I told you. Everything I have is yours.”
“But this is like…”
“What?”
“Well, we’re not married, Ethan.”
“No… not yet… but you may as well start getting used to it now, and then by the time you do become Mrs. Wilde, you’ll be an expert.”
My heart seemed to trip over itself, stumbling forward to crash into my chest wall. Marriage? Me?
The shock must have shown on my face, because he seemed suddenly panicked. “What? That is what you want, isn’t it? Eventually?”
I closed my gaping mouth and gathered myself. “E… are you asking me to marry you?”
A pregnant pause dropped like a lead weight between us, his wide eyes searching mine frantically. “No,” he said, finally regaining his composure. “I can assure you that when the day comes that I ask you to marry me, you won’t be in any doubt that it’s a proposal.” His eyes continued to oscillate between mine, but I could tell he was struggling to read my thoughts. Eventually, his inquisitive mind got the better of him, compelling him to ask, “But just out of curiosity… You would have said yes… wouldn’t you? If I’d asked?”
My heart was still banging noisily inside my ribcage. I shrugged. “Put it this way. I can assure you—if you’d asked, you wouldn’t be in any doubt of my answer.”
His eyelashes fluttered, blinking in rapid succession, as if this would somehow help him to process my answer. Then he turned to his coffee cup and drained the contents. The caffeine seemed to do the trick, rousing him from his deep contemplation, as if our last conversation hadn’t actually taken place at all.
“Right, baby. I really need to go.” He stood and straightened his cuffs before shrugging into his jacket. “Put the cards somewhere safe and memorize the PINs. You can shred the documents in the office.” Gripping me by the shoulders, he pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “I’m guessing Valiente will have this thing dragging out all day, but I’ll call you when I can.”
