A Winter's Seduction (A Winter's Tale Series Book 5)

by Kristi Tailor

  Her movement wasn’t lost on Nicholas. Letting out a low, hoarse laugh, he said, “Pressing your legs together isn’t going to help. Nothing is going to help that throbbing you’re feeling, nothing except the feel of my cock filling you.” He was provoking her− seducing her. It was a web of seduction− pure provocation. Taking a step closer to the bed, Nicholas smiled down at her, his handsome expression teasing. “Open your legs,” he whispered. “Let me alleviate the throbbing . . . right here.” Before Charlotte could stop him, Nicholas’ free hand had already cupped her sex. His thumb had already begun to caress her pulsing clitoris. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop,” he said. It was an enticement.

  “Ah!” Charlotte moaned aloud, unable to stop the sounds from emanating deep within her throat. Need slammed into her, a hard and ferocious need. “My parents will hear us,” she warned, knowing she would not be able to keep quiet, not this time. Not when her skin burned for his touch. Not when she was hungry for the feel of his hard shaft stretching her beyond what her body allowed, the pleasure pain of him pushing deeper than what their bodies permitted. She was hot for him, too hot.

  Nicholas pressed her slender body to the mattress, easily spreading her toned thighs with his knee. “No, they won’t,” he breathed. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his dark gaze holding hers captive.

  Shaking her head, Charlotte’s hips rose impatiently to meet Nicholas.’ How was she supposed to deny him? She couldn’t, wouldn’t.

  “I didn’t think so,” he groaned. Steadying himself, Nicholas pushed urgently against her moist welcoming opening, joining their bodies together so that they were one. Instantly, he was surrounded by a warmth and a tightness that made his entire body stiffen, the intensity of the sensation nearly pushed him over the edge. “Bite my shoulder, if you think you’re going to be loud,” he whispered into her ear. And then his body was moving on its own volition, needing hers, wanting hers, hungry for the sensation of her tight sheath engulfing him in pure ecstasy. Charlotte clutched at his back as he started a rhythm, each stroke burying him deeper into her core until neither knew where one began and the other ended.

  Lost in the pleasure of his wife, Nicholas wrapped his fingers around her neck, pulling her to him so that his moan was caught by her lips. Charlotte’s hips rose to meet him thrust for thrust, building a rhythm to a song that only they could hear. Nicholas held them both at the peak of ecstasy, riding the current until the building pressure was too much for him. “Dimple,” he growled her name. Moving his fingers to her hair, Nicholas roughly fisted the thick black tendrils as he fought for control. His strokes were deep, powerful as he drove past her barriers, past all limitations. “I’m going to cum,” he whispered against her lips. “Let’s climax together.”

  Nicholas’ plea was her undoing. Tightening her legs around his back, Charlotte clinched her muscles around his cock, flexing and unflexing her muscles, creating a fervor that sent them both spiraling out of control− pushing them both over the edge. Doing as she was told, Charlotte bit down on Nicholas’ shoulder, her fingernails digging into his back as she restrained from crying out from the absolute pleasure ricocheting through her overly sensitized body.

  Nicholas rested his forehead against hers, and then smiling against her lips, he said, “I will never get enough of you.” Groaning, he kissed the corner of her mouth, bringing his hands to her tangled mane, stroking the thick black mass as he brushed his lips against her temple. Once, twice, and then he was pulling away from her.

  Turning onto her side, Charlotte looked up at Nicholas’ dark, handsome face. “If nothing else, at least we’ve gotten this part right.”

  Nicholas’ thick brows knotted together. “This part?” he asked, as he continued to play in her hair.

  “Sex,” Charlotte muttered softly. “We may not have mastered any other part of marriage, but at least we aren’t lacking in the pleasure department.

  Nicholas stared down at his wife, his silver gaze penetrative. The meaning behind her words were not lost on him. Licking his full lips, Nicholas turned onto his stomach, then propping himself on his elbows, he forced a small smile. “Let’s talk.”

  “Okay. Let’s.”

  Nodding his head, Nicholas was thoughtful for a moment, and then frowning, he said, “Honestly, I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “How about from the beginning,” Charlotte prompted, offering him an encouraging smile.

  “The beginning,” he echoed. Then letting out an exasperated breath, he nodded his head a second time. Okay, the beginning. “I’ve mentioned before that my siblings and I were raised by our nanny in our parents’ absence. She was our mother, our father . . . our safe- haven when Spencer and Muffy tried to take us over the deep end with them. I told you that my father was an alcoholic . . . and my mother an adulterer . . . they both had addictions that hurt the other. Esmerelda was there to comfort us when it felt like the world was falling apart. And most of the time it felt like it was . . . literally falling apart.”

  “Esmerelda?”

  “That was our nanny’s name. Esmerelda.” Laughing softly, Nicholas shook his head at the memories flooding back to him. “I can’t even begin to count the number of times Caleb asked our parents if we could leave with Esmerelda . . . if she could take us with her whenever she left the estate. When I was thirteen years old, I was supposed to leave for boarding school in New Hampshire . . . Caleb had already been gone for two years at the time. I remember being ecstatic about attending Manchester, not so much the school, but the freedom that came along with leaving. Being able to rid myself of home . . . my parents’ house . . . whatever you want to call it. A few days before I was supposed to leave, my father informed me that I would not be attending school with Caleb, that I would be leaving for Wingate in Boston, Massachusetts. Spencer knew how badly I missed my brother, how much I looked forward to seeing him. He intentionally kept us apart thinking that I would develop Caleb’s rebellious nature. You see, I always followed the rules. I did as I was told. I listened to my parents faithfully, regardless of how screwed up they were . . . but my father knew that time away from him, with only Caleb as an influence− that my disposition toward him would change. Most fathers in Spencer’s position would revel at the thought of having sons who got along. Knowing that families in our society had been ripped apart by sibling disputes over money and prestige . . . family businesses, one would think that my father would have rejoiced at his lot. Two sons that loved one another . . . who trusted one another emphatically, honestly, I think Spencer would have been happier with the former. He would have loved it if we were at one another’s throats, fighting for his business and his affection.” Roughly combing his fingers through his unkempt hair, Nicholas continued, “It was at a dinner party that my father told me of his decision to change my school plans . . . that I would be separated from my brother, a dinner party at Hayward Fissicle’s home. Fissicle’s wife, Catherine, showed me a great deal of kindness when no one else thought to be bothered by something so miniscule. A few months ago, Catherine reached out to me . . . she told me that my father plotted my downfall. That he paid Fissicle to take Leisure Me Ready.”

  “What?” Charlotte gasped. “Why would he do that?”

  “To get me to come back to Plotus Cosmetics, I’m sure.”

  “What kind of parent would intentionally setup their child’s failure?” she frowned.

  “Oh, it gets better,” Nicholas laughed, though there was no humor in it. “Fissicle was supposed to fire me after fourth quarter of next year. Suspecting that her husband was having an affair, Catherine hired a private investigator to confirm her suspicions and amongst learning that Fissicle was sleeping with his secretary, she also discovered my father’s backdoor dealings with her husband. She gave me permission to use the information as I saw fit. At first, I wasn’t going to do anything with what I learned, but then Dean blackmailed me for my position at Gizzelle, and so, I went to Fissicle and told him that I knew about his affair .
. . I threatened to tell Catherine about his scandalous ways.”

  Charlotte swallowed her words. Glancing up at Nicholas with forgiving eyes, she nodded her head urging him to continue.

  Sighing, Nicholas said, “Trust me, the irony isn’t lost on me. I was being blackmailed for the very same thing I was blackmailing Fissicle for . . . Fissicle agreed to give Dean my position, but not before telling me that my father and I were one in the same. According to Fissicle, Spencer has been threatening him for well over twenty- five years.”

  “Threatening him with what?”

  “My sister,” Nicholas shook his head, disgusted. “My mother was involved with Fissicle and from their affair she became pregnant with Rebecca.”

  “What!” Charlotte groaned. “Nicholas this is too much,” she said, grimacing at him.

  “According to Fissicle, Spencer knew that Rebecca wasn’t his child because he secretly got a vasectomy behind my mother’s back. Spencer already had his two heirs. He didn’t want any more children. So, after hiring a detective, my father found out that my mother was sleeping around with his friend. Instead of approaching my mother, Spencer used the information to coerce Fissicle into doing his dirty work, and the man has been at my father’s bidding since then.”

  “Does Rebecca know?”

  “No. No one knows, not even my mother. She thinks that Spencer fathered all three of her children.”

  Blinking up at him, Charlotte silently wondered if there were any lines these people wouldn’t cross. Swallowing her question, she instead asked, “Fissicle still allows your father to have that much power over him . . . just so Catherine won’t find out about something that happened twenty- five years ago?”

  “No, Dimple,” Nicholas said, shaking his head at her innocence. “He allows my father to have that much power over him because he doesn’t want to be a pariah. To be outcasted from their world, from their society would be a huge detriment to Fissicle’s livelihood. In their world, it is better to follow the leader than to go against the grain. Unfortunately for Fissicle, my father is a leader. Spencer has a hand in more than just the cosmetic world. He owns shares in each of his friends’ businesses, has fronted money for their companies− the man has made himself a significant part of every division within their social circle. And in doing so, no one would ever think to challenge him . . . he has strategically positioned himself behind an undisturbed line of pawns. Using everyone around him as pieces in a chess game that he’s playing against himself . . . it seems just for the hell of it. The man has too much power, he has no idea what it feels like to lose. So, I decided it was time for that to change.”

  “Change? What are you going to do?”

  “The only thing my father has ever truly cared about is his business. Plotus Cosmetics. Knowing this, I decided that I would take from him, the way he took from me. A few months ago, I asked Caleb for his shares, which he blindly gave to me. I then persuaded Fissicle to sell me his interest as well. Upon my return to Plotus I was able to convince Spencer to give me a fifteen percent increase in stocks, and then with Caleb’s help, I was able to acquire Rebecca’s shares . . . all of which has given me controlling interest.”

  “You don’t think he’ll fight you?”

  “With everything he has . . . but that won’t change the numbers.”

  “So, you intend to take over Plotus Cosmetics?” Charlotte asked, shocked. “But you have zero interest in your family’s business. You’ve repeatedly made that knowledge known.”

  “I wanted to break it up and sell it off piece by piece. But− Caleb has other plans. Caleb actually wants to run it. That’s why he’s here. He wants to run the company alongside me. I have very little interest in Plotus, but if running the company means having my brother around . . . I’ll tolerate the everyday plight of running Spencer’s corporation.”

  “Nicholas? Can I ask you a question?”

  “Anything.”

  “How much are you worth?”

  “How much am I worth?” he frowned. “Like insurance policy amount, after I die?”

  “No, like as an Elliot . . . how much are you worth?”

  Nicholas was thoughtful for a moment. “Between my trust fund and my savings . . . roughly 2.8.”

  Charlotte choked. “You’re joshing me, right? You’re worth 2.8 million dollars.”

  Nicholas smiled at her, amused. “No, Dimple. Billion.”

  Her eyes widened. “Billion? 2.8 billion dollars. I’m married to a billionaire!” she gasped, beyond shocked by his admission.

  “After all this time, you really have no idea of who I am . . . where I come from . . . who I come from?”

  “I knew that you came from money. I mean that was pretty obvious, you’ve always been kinda’ snobby,” she said teasingly. “And when I visited your parents vacation home in the Hamptons it became clear that your family was loaded . . . I mean with the amount of vacation homes that your parents own− that alone speaks for itself. But− I never would have pegged you to be a billionaire,” she shrieked. “Hundreds of thousands, yes. Billionaire, the thought never crossed my mind. I mean, I know Plotus Cosmetics is a billion- dollar corporation, but for some reason I never really considered the idea of you being worth that much money.”

  “Two years of friendship, and you never thought to Google me?” he asked in disbelief.

  “No,” she answered honestly. “The thought never crossed my mind. Although now, it all makes sense. Your father wanted me to sign a prenup to protect his fortune, your fortune.” Shaking her head at the impossibility of it all, she said, “I can’t say that I blame him in that regard . . . a billion dollars is a lot of money. None of this seems real. It’s like a Lifetime movie.”

  “It’s far from a movie,” Nicholas groaned. “It’s my life, and at times it gets to be too real.”

  “2.8 billion,” she whispered, unable to move past the reality of it all. “I’m married to a billionaire,” she mused. All the while I’ve been struggling to pay off my credit card debt and student loans . . . the irony, she thought.

  “For now,” he shrugged. “Once I move forward with my plan there is no doubt in my mind that Spencer will disinherit me. In fact, I’m certain that he will. So, when that happens I’ll only have my savings, the money I make from owning Gizzelle Bridal’s building space, and my yearly income from Plotus. It will take sometime for me to gain what I’m about to lose.”

  “You’re certain he’ll cut you off?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So, you take over the company and run it with Caleb at your side, and then what?”

  “Vote Spencer out. Run the company. That’s as far as we’ve gotten.” Staring down at his wife, Nicholas’ intense steel gaze drifted from her thick arched brows to her button nose, stopping at her sensuous mouth. Needing to touch her, Nicholas caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “This is why I’ve decided to allow Dean to continue with Gizzelle. He is obsessed with being editor, and so I know he will give one- hundred percent. When the time is right, I am going to make a final visit to Fissicle to get my company back. At that time, I will rid Dean from our lives for good.”

  “That day can’t come quick enough,” Charlotte sighed, suddenly dejected at the mention of Dean’s name.

  “You know, Dimple, you could come work for me at Plotus. It would be like old times,” he smirked boyishly at her. “Start you off as my secretary until you prove that you’re capable of more.”

  Charlotte laughed at him, “No, thank you. My days as your secretary are well in the past. I think I’ll stay where I am.”

  “Okay,” he said. “But if at any time you feel like Gizzelle isn’t where you want to be . . .”

  “Thank you. Knowing that I’ll never be without a job gives me great comfort.” Pressing her face against his hand, Charlotte exhaled. “So, is that everything? Is everything out in the open now?”

  “That’s everything that’s been on my mind as of late.”

  Charlotte stu
died her husband, then nodding her head she forced a smile. There was more . . . so much more that she didn’t know− that he had neglected to tell her. But− for now she would be contented. “Nicholas,” she breathed his name. “Promise me something.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Even when things seem bleak, the bleakest . . . you won’t push me away. You’ll allow me to be an ally. I don’t want to be married to a stranger. I don’t ever want anyone else to know more about your decisions before I do. Can you promise me that?”

  “I promise,” he said. “You have my word.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Charlotte sat at the conference table amongst her colleagues as she patiently waited for Dean to make his way into the meeting room. According to the agenda he had crudely posted on her office door, they were eleven minutes behind schedule. Inwardly groaning, Charlotte scooted her plush leather chair closer to the mahogany table. Time seemed to be moving in slow motion, and for all the coffee in the world she could not find the energy to get through the morning. Just three hours earlier, Nicholas had dropped her off at Gizzelle after a long night of traveling from Baltimore to Manhattan. Exhausted, hadn’t even begun to explain how she felt. Glancing at her watch, she sighed. The staff has waited long enough . . . she had waited long enough. Dean had openly berated her for being late to meetings, had continuously ridiculed her for the very thing he was now doing. Clearing her throat, Charlotte easily silenced the room. “For whatever unknown reason, Mr. Proctor is running late, so we are going to begin without him. “Chravynn,” she said, gaining the attention of the curvy, warm ivory toned woman at the opposite end of the table. “If you wouldn’t mind sharing the Creative Departments ideas for August’s cover?”

  “Sure thing,” the woman began. “We’ve−”

  Bursting into the conference room, Dean held up his hands apologetically. “My sincerest apologies for being late. I had a meeting that ran longer than I had expected, but I would like to thank you for your patience.” Sprinting to the head of the conference table, he quickly took a seat to the left of Charlotte. “Ms. Toutant, I’m glad to see that you are finally on time,” he chastised. “It’s about time and well overdue.” The contempt in his voice hadn’t gone unnoticed by anyone in the room. “Let’s begin with the sales team−”