Captive Hearts (Hearts on Fire Book 2)

by L. M. Connolly

  But he’d insisted on paying for the clothes, and when she’d asked Natalie for the bill, the designer had told her briskly that Ethan had said she wasn’t even to know how much he had spent on her.

  Which meant he’d dropped a lot of moolah on these clothes, so she was determined he wouldn’t pay for her jewelry too.

  Here she was, in a spacious Tribeca apartment, which boasted a billionaire’s view of downtown New York. Nothing seemed real. Ever since they’d got on the plane in London, Scarlett had been whirled along, running to catch up with Ethan and his world. She feared she’d never fit in. But then, she wouldn’t have to do it for long.

  The door to Ethan’s dressing room opened and he walked through, immaculate in a black tuxedo. He was adjusting the gold cuff links, but he shook his arms with a practiced twist, and the outfit fell into place, the perfect half inch of pristine white fabric showing below dead-black cuffs.

  As he approached her he dipped into his pocket and brought out a red velvet box. “Here, you’ll need this.”

  He opened the box to reveal a perfect ring. It blazed at her, daring her to claim it. “I love sapphires.” She reached out to touch the cold, icy-blue stone that reminded her of his eyes.

  “It’s not a sapphire. It’s a blue diamond. I was waiting for the right ring to show up.” Without ceremony, he plucked the ring from the box and reached for her hand. The central stone, dazzling in its beauty, was complemented by four white marquise-cut diamonds, two on each side.

  Scarlett snatched her hand back, gasping in shock. “I can’t wear this. I’ll lose it or something.”

  “No you won’t. You’ll be fine.” Firmly grasping her left hand, he slid the ring on the third finger. Of course, it fit perfectly.

  While she was admiring the bauble, he turned her to face the window and unfastened her crystal necklace. “Very pretty, but not suitable for this evening. The women there can spot glass from a gem in seconds, and unless it’s a special designer piece you’ll be judged accordingly.”

  “And so will you,” she responded, but without heat. She was still stunned by the ring. With this on, she needed no other jewelry.

  Ethan strung something cold around her neck and fastened it. “That’s better.” Turning her back to face him, he studied her, his eyes partially closed as he assessed the result. “Perfect.”

  When he stepped aside, she could see what he’d done. A chain of deep blue cabochon stones interspersed with rubies graced her neck. “Now these are sapphires,” he said, his breath heating her shoulder.

  To her shame, Scarlett’s first thought was how much she could have done to renovate the Woodward with the price of this piece. He opened his hand before her, to reveal more jewels. “There are earrings.”

  “You’d better have hired these,” she said as soon as she found her voice.

  “Are you kidding me?” His voice rose. “What kind of cheapskate do you think I am?”

  “That’s a British word,” she reminded him smugly.

  “I’m spending too much time around one particular Brit.” He kissed her shoulder, leaving a tiny damp imprint. “Who drives me crazy at times. The designer for the Woodward called me today wanting to know why you’re ordering the plasterers to keep all the scraps of wallpaper, and even chips of paint.”

  “I want to restore the Woodward to the way it was in its glory days. If I know the original colors I have a better chance. I spent today in the New York Library, researching decor and furniture.”

  “I see.” He paused. “I’ll fire the designer tomorrow.”

  Startled, she met his gaze in the mirror. Her eyes were wide. “Why would you do that?”

  “First because he went over your head and came to me, wasting my time. I wouldn’t have put you in charge if I didn’t think you could do the job.” Her heart swelled with pride. He really thought that? “And he wanted to give it the faux-Regency skim. Like he would for an ordinary five-star hotel. The Woodward will have to have antique furniture and original paintings to satisfy the kind of clients I’m catering for. I’ll take you to the Paris Noir after we leave New York. There’s an auction of Regency furniture and artifacts taking place there later this month. And I’d like your opinion on another property I’m interested in, here in New York. It’s a Golden Age mansion, but unlike the McCoy or the Frick, it’s gone through hard times. I thought it would look good in the art nouveau style.”

  All bright Tiffany glass and wrought iron. Immediately the picture came to Scarlett’s mind. “But I don’t know much about this city. I don’t know what will fit.”

  He stroked his hands down her bare arms, raising the fine hairs. “You’ve got the feel for it. Hotels are in your blood, as they are in mine. You have the right instincts.”

  What he’d said was better than any flowery compliment. Even better than the jewels he’d bedecked her with. While Scarlett could move about freely in this big city, as long as she ignored the bodyguard following her at a discreet distance, she would be a little less anonymous after tonight.

  He tugged at a curl. “I like your hair down.”

  She pulled away. “I spent an hour getting this updo. And they did my makeup, too, so don’t…” She laid a finger over his lips when he took her in his arms and gave every impression of a man about to kiss her.

  “Later,” he promised. “In any case, you’re wearing the kind of lipstick that doesn’t wear off. Or are you?”

  Before she could protest, he dropped a swift kiss on to her lips. “So you are,” he murmured, much closer to her than he should be. Although they’d spent the last four nights slaking their lust for each other, he still took her breath away every time he came near her. And she still wanted him with a desperation that had a sharp edge she couldn’t blunt.

  “Ready?”

  She’d never be ready for this. Not the charity ball, but everything else. No, she had to be honest. Ethan himself. How could she ever trust herself not to fall in love with him?

  Chapter Eleven

  The McCoy mansion was flooded with light. Its beauty undeniable, it stood in the midst of a cluster of buildings, modern and old, dating from every era the city had to offer. Blue and green bathed the weathered stone in ethereal light, and a pure white light shone down over the guests arriving on the red carpet.

  “By the way,” Ethan said casually just as they were about to get out of the limo. “Violet Spencer is the woman my father wanted me to marry. He wanted Willow as well. So you’re my protection this evening.”

  “Thanks for telling me.” Her nerves, already at a ridiculously high level, climbed even further. The pulse in her wrist was visibly throbbing, and her throat had almost closed. This was way, way beyond her pay grade. She congratulated herself for having her hair and makeup done professionally. It had seemed like an extravagance at the time.

  Someone opened the car door, letting in a whoosh of sound. Cameras clicking, people shouting, the kerfuffle Scarlett was beginning to get used to, the fuss that surrounded Ethan.

  A man escorting a gorgeous woman was leaving the red carpet. They had their backs to them and didn’t turn around when the crowd roared.

  Not at all ruffled, Ethan turned back to help Scarlett out of the car. “Don’t say anything out here that you don’t want repeated,” he murmured, under cover of the car door. “They’ll have lip-readers.”

  Her jaw dropped. She’d never imagined such a thing, if he hadn’t warned her. Okay, then. They were in love, about to marry, and all was sunny in their world. Yeah, right. She could manage that for the short trip to the mansion.

  Lights flickered over them, temporarily confusing her vision and she nearly stumbled, but Ethan had her. With his hand cupping her elbow, she grabbed her clutch and lifted her chin, stepping out over the red carpet.

  Cries of “Ethan!” came from all sides, but nobody called her name. Good.

  At the end a TV company lay in wait, the camera and mic emblazoned with the logo of one of the entertainment channels. They
were going past it, surely. But no. The woman, a slender blonde dressed in a strapless red dress that threatened to slip down any moment, stepped into their path.

  “So, Ethan, does this mark the end of your affair with Willow?”

  That was rather intrusive, especially when Ethan obviously had another woman with him. “That was over a long time ago, Carol,” Ethan said, tight-lipped.

  “That’s not what she said when she went in ten minutes ago.”

  Ethan smiled. “I’m sure you misunderstood her. This is my fiancée, Scarlett Woodward.”

  Carol paused, her eyes widening slightly. Scarlett had seen her before, but she’d never imagined she’d actually feature on the channel. She couldn’t say it was one of her dearest ambitions, but here she was anyway. Carol gave Scarlett a quick smile, but her pale eyes held no warmth. “Is that a Chanel you’re wearing, Scarlett?”

  Now she had to speak, too. “No, it’s by Natalie.” She was delighted to give Natalie a plug.

  “Oh! It’s beautiful!” Carol pressed her hand to her chest. “So, you’re British!”

  Scarlett granted her a sardonic smile. “Well done. Yes, I believe I am.”

  “So you met Ethan during his recent visit to London?”

  Ethan took over the conversation. “I’ve known Scarlett for a while, but we only got together recently.” He shifted, as if reaching for her hand, but he lifted it and kissed the ring he’d placed there. A dramatic gesture that got the required response.

  Carol’s gaze followed the ring as Ethan laced his fingers with hers, ensuring the ring was on full display. “Wow! So, can we see it?”

  Ethan glanced at Scarlett as if asking her permission and at her nod held her hand so the cameraman got a good shot of it. “Now, if you’ll excuse us?” he said as another limo drew up at the red carpet. The yelling started all over again.

  “Remind me,” she said, as they crossed the courtyard, “never to start a sentence with ‘so’ again.”

  “It does seem to be her favorite word,” he answered her, keeping his hand linked with hers. “Now when we get inside, people will have cameras. There’ll be a few candid shots on social media by the end of the evening. There’s always someone wanting a scoop.”

  “But not of us. Why would anybody be interested in us? You’re a businessman, I’m a nobody.”

  Heedless of the man in a monkey suit standing by the door, he turned to her, took both her hands and leaned into her, his voice low and menacing. “Never let me hear you say that again. Never, do you hear? You’re Scarlett Woodward. You’re somebody very important.” Then, ignoring his previous advice, he kissed her.

  Or perhaps it wasn’t, Scarlett thought vaguely before she gave herself up to him. Perhaps this was one of the photo ops.

  Inside, light blazed. They stood in a spacious hall, furnished in the late Victorian style, all stone and highly polished wood. Staff stood by the red carpet, which stretched over the hall and up the stairs, draped over another carpet. Protecting it. Scarlett could use that kind of protection right now. Her tension hadn’t abated one bit because the worst lay ahead. She was about to face Ethan’s family.

  His kiss held a trace of passion, but was more reassuring, reminding her of what they shared. “What would you have done if we weren’t lovers?” she asked once their lips parted. “Would you have kept me as your manager?”

  “You’re a subcontractor,” he reminded her. “Employed to do a specific job.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “And now my fiancée.” He gazed down at her, his eyes bright. “Are you ready?”

  He’d understood she needed a moment. Not a photo op then. Reassured, she let him take her hand and lead her up the stairs and into the lion’s den.

  All was light and chatter. Circular tables were set out at one end of the room, while at the other smaller, taller tables provided a place for the guests to lean and dump their empty glasses. Or the half-full ones. Ethan swept two glasses from a tray held by a passing waiter and handed her one.

  “Pregnant,” she muttered under her breath, but when she tried to hand it back to him, he shook his head.

  “Pretend. Or take a small sip. If they see you with OJ they’ll immediately make assumptions and I don’t want to make it public yet.”

  Immediately she understood. If the media knew she was pregnant, they’d label her an opportunist, a woman who got pregnant to snag the billionaire. Even if it wasn’t true, the label would stick. Although Scarlett had never been in this situation before, she’d seen enough examples. “Can’t I say I’m teetotal or taking antibiotics or something?”

  He grinned, flashing his teeth. “You’re a religious fanatic who has the clap.” He spoke like a ventriloquist, almost without moving his lips. Scarlett watched, fascinated, suppressing her giggles at his outrageous comment.

  “They’re so avid for gossip?”

  “They are. Everyone thrives on it. If they’re not exchanging it they’re creating it.”

  “Damn.” She kept the glass of sparkling wine in her hand as they moved further in to the large room.

  “The original owners held balls here once a year, so this is one of the oldest events on the social calendar,” he informed her. Holding his arm so she could tuck her hand under it. “You’ll find the people here are much like people anywhere, except they’re dressed a bit better. Try to imagine them naked.”

  She snorted a laugh. “No way. Maybe I’ll imagine the silk is polyester. That should bring them down to my level.”

  “You’d look gorgeous in anything.”

  She didn’t know if he meant it, or if his last words were for the benefit of the breathtakingly lovely woman approaching them. Willow Sarton, holding a glass every bit as full as the one Scarlett had in her hand. She wore a signature transparent gown, sapphire blue tonight, glimmering with trails of sparkles.

  Her smile held only pleasure, but like Carol outside, no trace of happiness reached her eyes. “So good to see you!” She leaned forward to kiss Ethan on each cheek, but didn’t offer the same gesture to Scarlett, but gave her an assessing stare. “And to meet you.”

  Her gaze fell to the ring on Scarlett’s hand. Her makeup didn’t allow for a change in her complexion, but her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. “Do I offer my congratulations or commiserations?” This time she addressed Scarlett.

  “I believe you do, yes, whichever you think appropriate,” Scarlett answered.

  Willow nodded. “I see. Rather unkind, letting me discover like this, don’t you think, Ethan?”

  Scarlett thought so too. “It was rather sudden. He only gave me the ring tonight.”

  “Then I will congratulate you.” She made a shooing motion with one hand at Ethan. “Go talk to your boring business friends. I want Scarlett to myself for a while.”

  “Not a hope in hell,” Ethan rumbled. “Scarlett’s entering the lion’s den for the first time.”

  “Who better than a lioness to guide her?” Willow smiled again, but this time a spark of warmth touched her dark eyes.

  Scarlett didn’t trust her, but if she avoided Willow, she’d be a coward. And she always faced her problems head-on. “That’s okay.” She shot Ethan a smile. “Go on, do as she says. Shoo.”

  Ethan glowered at the women, but watched Scarlett most. She kept his gaze and nodded. Either he trusted her to handle the situation, or he didn’t, and if he didn’t, their marriage, real or not, wouldn’t last long.

  Releasing his arm, she turned to Willow. “Let’s walk.”

  She didn’t miss the look of triumph Willow shot Ethan before they walked away. “You know I asked him to go to a benefit with me that night. He went from me to you,” Willow said, her voice soft and conversational, a smile fixed to her plump lips.

  “How can you know that?”

  “Because I visited him in his office the day he disappeared. He was with you, wasn’t he? So he went from my bed to yours.”

  Had he gone back to Willow after their weekend together? Was h
e truly with her when they met? Apprehension clawed at her stomach, and her insecurity emerged. She didn’t belong here, only her pregnancy had persuaded him to come back. But she refused to show any of that to this woman.

  She wouldn’t grace Willow with an answer. Instead, she flourished her left hand, the flash of the blue diamond demonstrating her point. “And yet I have this and you don’t.”

  Willow tossed back her hair, long and blonde tonight. “True. No problem. Why did you say yes? He’s a player, you know, and his father is worse. His father wanted me or Violet for him because that brought him back into the fold. Those boutique hotels are hands-off, and that’s got his old man edgy.”

  Scarlett appreciated her frankness. “Thanks for that. I have my reasons, but the one I’ll share with you is that I already have a career in the hospitality industry, one I want to continue. What Ethan can give me is the best training I can have. Better than any university can show me.”

  Although Willow had obviously had work done, and she was several dress sizes less than her, Scarlett didn’t hold that against her. Much. For models, it was almost a requirement of the job. Willow gave a short laugh. “You go, girl. Give him some back and take what you can get. It’s about time Ethan Black got a taste of his own medicine.”

  Despite her bravado, Scarlett suspected Ethan had hurt Willow by his rejection. The model would survive, but every chip on someone’s soul was a loss.

  She wouldn’t make the mistake of falling in love with him. Her main concern was for her unborn baby. The little being was so precious, so special, she would protect it with her life. Marrying Ethan would give the child a gold-edged lifetime guarantee. All that stuff about money meaning nothing? That was garbage where a child was concerned. Money would make life easier for the child, as would the connections Ethan commanded. For that, she would do almost anything.