by Lucy Leroux
If Peyton turns up anything, I’ll tell him, of course. But until then, what Ethan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
“If she’s smart—and despite going for you, I think she is—Tahlia dumped that ID and got a new one.” He picked up another paper, the entry logs for the passcode-protected doors.
“Well, there’s an unauthorized exit from the laundry around an hour after Gina visited. It might be nothing. There’s a lot of those.”
Trick leaned back in his office chair. “It’s where the hotel’s smokers go to get their fix. We are more concerned with unauthorized entrances back there.”
Employees needed to scan their keycards to get back in.
Ethan picked up the beer and took a sip. His eyes were narrowed on the security guard logs. “If this was her, then Tahlia picked the only time when the hallway to that entrance was not monitored. Just our luck.”
Trick’s cheek twitched. There was that damn word again. He’d lost count of the number of times someone had brought up luck or described Tahlia as lucky in the past few months. Given the circumstances, it irked him to no end.
“If she’s not hiding here in Boston, and she’s not in Florida, then where would she have gone? Back to New York?”
Mulling, he picked up the letter opener—the one Tahlia had fiddled with on his desk. “It’s possible. She’s not well-traveled and doesn’t know any other cities well.”
“What about Atlantic City or Las Vegas? She’d want to earn some money, right?”
“I thought of that. I have men checking the casinos out, but if we assume her family is aware of her gambling, then that doesn’t feel right.” It was still a possibility, of course, which was why he was circulating Tahlia’s description to all his contacts there and in Reno again. But it was also too obvious.
“Can you gamble at any of those places?”
Trick gave himself a little shake. Ethan was watching him expectantly. “What places?”
Ethan rolled his eyes and pointed over Trick’s head. He spun the chair to face the line of photos, all the hotels in the Caislean chain.
Caught with the idea, he stood to examine them more closely. “None have an in-house casino, but you can gamble in quite a few of these cities.”
He trailed off as he turned back to Ethan, his eyes landing on the framed photograph of himself playing in Monaco on his birthday.
Would she? “I certainly would,” he murmured aloud.
“What the hell are you going on about now?” Ethan scowled.
He let out an admiring huff. Trust the woman you fell in love with. She knows what she’s doing.
“I don’t suppose you have any more vacation days coming your way?”
Ethan snorted. “You and your family have sucked all those away for the next ten years.”
He picked up the picture. “Too bad, because you’d love this place. If my hunch is correct, I’m going to find Tahlia safe and sound. I won’t need backup.”
He tossed the frame into Ethan’s lap before going to notify their on-call pilot. The man needed to fuel up the Caislean jet ASAP.
Trick held his breath, leaning back as he watched the most beautiful woman in the world cross the casino floor.
The Casino Monte Carlo, better known to James Bond fan’s as the Casino Royale, was packed with well-heeled patrons, but none of the other ladies in the room even came close to Tahlia.
She walked with her head held high, as regal as any queen.
And damn if she didn’t look the part. She was wearing a gorgeous red dress, a floor-length number that flowed behind her with a tiny train, almost like a wedding dress. But this was nothing like the virginal white gowns he saw in magazines. Though modestly cut at the bodice, the gown had a long slit up the side that made him want to punch every man who looked at her—and those were numerous. It felt as if every male’s eye was on her.
Fuck, I don’t blame them.
The dress glowed like a ruby against the gilt and dark wood interior. Opulence and luxury was the byword for this place. And yet, there was no jewel that shone more brightly than her.
Were those bodyguards hers? Two men in dark suits were stationed nearby keeping a careful distance. Tahlia acknowledged one with a nod before she settled at a table. The man nodded back, but in a curt professional way. They had the bearing of hired security.
Trick sipped his whiskey, opting to keep his seat near the bar so he could watch Tahlia play from a safe distance.
By rights, he should have been angry. He’d been through hell since she left with only the crumpled photo as a note. But at this moment, all he could feel was pride.
When Tahlia ran the first time, she’d ended up on the streets. But his girl was a fast learner. No more skulking at the fringes for her. She was hiding in plain sight here in his own personal Mecca, living the life that should have been hers to begin with.
But not without me. Trick would fight whoever he had to stay at her side. At the moment, that included Tahlia herself.
What did that make him?
He snorted to himself. I’m a royal consort—the kid who has to run the gauntlet before he can win his place at the queen’s side.
Trick waved over Felix, the hotel’s majordomo. “I need a favor. And before you say no, don’t forget who introduced you to your girlfriend…”
Chapter 25
Tahlia walked down the hall of the Hotel de Paris flanked by her new bodyguards. She’d won thousands of dollars tonight, but it felt like a hollow victory.
Focus. Her plan was working. With tonight’s earnings, she was nearly halfway to the first benchmark she’d set for herself. She was going to win a quarter of a million dollars.
Tahlia left everything when she’d left Boston—her new friends and Patrick. She missed him so much she could hardly sleep each night. The bed in her sumptuous hotel suite felt so empty.
Getting close to him had been stupid. Not only did she put him in danger, but unless she found a way to fight her family, she was going to have to live with this broken heart forever.
I will do it. I have to. That was why she’d come to Monaco. If there was any place for a gambler to regroup, it was here.
Her room in the Hotel de Paris was nowhere near the size of her suite at the Caislean, which was clean, open, and modern. By comparison. this hotel was old-fashioned, with its crystal chandeliers and heavy dark furnishings. All the gold and gilt accents should have been dated or cheesy, but they weren’t. It was magnificent.
I should be excited. Monte Carlo was literally something out of her dreams, but without Patrick, she couldn’t enjoy it.
At least I fit in. Tahlia had been careful on that score. Always a great mimic, she donned the disguise of a socialite with money to burn. It had been a bluff. Her fake ID, a top-notch Canadian passport, had been very expensive. When she arrived in Monaco, she had enough money left to cover her room and a few hands at the tables. But her luck held. After a few nights, she made enough money to upgrade to a suite in a bigger hotel and to buy a few essential items—this satin dress and her two new best friends.
Tahlia had debated hiring the bodyguards. She wanted to feel secure, but worried about the trustworthiness of strangers. If their protection was for sale, her family could afford to bribe them to give her up. In the end, she gambled on the anonymity given by her new identity and the vibe of decency she felt from the men in question, both former military personnel.
Alfonse, one of her bodyguards, paused on the oriental carpet runner in front of the doors to her room while Nolan took her keycard to open her door. Checking her room before she retired for the night was part of their routine.
Holding her purse in front of her, she mentally reviewed her winning and losing hands while Nolan did his check.
“Hey,” a man shouted.
Tahlia’s head snapped up. Alfonse pushed her against the wall. “Wait here.”
He ran inside to help Nolan. More crashing. It sounded as if something heavy hit the floor before ano
ther muffled male voice cried out her name.
Fear flooded through her as she peeked through the door. Was it one of her cousins or did they hire another goon to come get her?
She gasped, recognizing the brown hair trapped in a headlock under Nolan’s arm.
“Patrick!” Tahlia ran inside. “Oh, God. Let him go.”
Nolan obediently released him, letting a red-faced Patrick slide to the floor. He sat there with his eyes watering, coughing and reaching up to her. Tahlia got on her knees, wrapping her arms around him.
“I…I wanted…to surprise you,” Patrick wheezed. He coughed, holding his hands to his throat.
Her bodyguards glanced at each other. Nolan shrugged.
“Do you require medical assistance?” Alfonse asked in his thickly accented English.
Patrick continued to struggle for breath and shook his head.
“Are you sure?” She frowned, holding his shoulders tight.
He waved away her concern. “I’m fine.”
“Who is this?” Nolan asked her, his lips turned down.
“I’m her fiancé, Patrick Tyler.”
Tahlia’s mouth dropped open. Patrick could barely speak, but he managed to wreck her composure and stake his claim with one sentence.
Nolan’s thick eyebrows rose. “Is that true?” His tone was tinged with disbelief. She could see the wheels turning in his head.
“Close enough.” Tahlia’s smile was a little forced. “Don’t worry, he’s not the reason I hired you. If you don’t mind leaving now, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Not too early,” Patrick interjected, getting to his feet with a sour scowl at Nolan.
A corner of Nolan’s mouth turned up in the tiniest smirk, but he nodded at her. She walked him and Alfonse to the door, closing it so they could hear the door latch securely behind them—also part of their routine.
She stayed there, trying to gather her defenses.
“Tahlia.”
That tone did nothing to calm her racing heart.
Pivoting on her heel, she turned to face him. Her lover’s face was unreadable.
“Are you angry with me?” she whispered.
Didn’t he know why she had to leave? She never meant to hurt him. Hell, she was trying to save him.
Patrick watched her, his expression hardening. Then he opened his arms. “That depends on how fast you can get out of that dress.”
Tears sprang to her eyes as she stumbled toward him. He embraced her, engulfing her in his heat.
They were miles from Boston, but it felt like home.
His lips pressed to her forehead. “I’m sorry. That was terrible. I should have rehearsed a better opening line.”
“That’s not why I’m crying.” She sniffed. “Patrick, you can’t be here. You have to stay away from me. My family—”
He squeezed her tight. “I know all about their threats. I spoke to Gina, and we found the picture in your desk.”
“Then why are you here?” Didn’t he understand? If anything happened to him, she would never forgive herself.
Patrick stroked her cheek, wiping her tears away. “How can you even ask that? We belong together and nothing—not even your crazy insane family—is going to scare me away.”
“But—”
“Shh.” Patrick pressed his lips to her, silencing the rest of her protest. “First the dress. Then bed…and tomorrow, we start again.”
Tahlia stopped crying, holding on for dear life as Patrick unzipped her gown. He pushed the sleeves off her shoulders with a long caress, letting it drop to the carpet in a shimmering cascade of red satin. His suit hit the floor next to it a few seconds later.
Patrick buried his hands in her hair, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Her heart felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest. “I love you, too.” Her vision blurred, making the hard planes of his face waver.
The room swam, and she landed on the mattress with a gasp. Cool air chilled her body as he leaned away. He ran his hands over the black lace bra, slipping his fingers underneath to cup her breast.
Tahlia arched, her body growing wet as Patrick’s heat burned her sensitive skin. He brushed her nipples roughly, making them peak as if begging for more of his touch. The bra melted away. Her panties quickly followed.
His hard length pressed against her, running over her heated softness with delicious friction.
Patrick pulled away, reaching for his pants. Tahlia sat up, covering his hand when he pulled out a condom.
“It’s okay.” After a visit from Eric, the hotel’s concierge doctor, a month ago, she’d started the pill. Despite the fact she hadn’t expected to see Patrick for a long time, she’d brought them along, taking them in an act of almost defiant hopefulness.
Unaware of her preparations, Patrick frowned. “Are you sure?”
She answered with an open-mouthed kiss, taking his length in her hand and guiding him to her entrance, telling him about her preparations in a whispered confession.
His demeanor changed, transforming into primal hunger she could feel. His feral satisfaction beat on her as he pressed, driving inside her with a groan.
Mouth gaping, Tahlia parted her legs wider, pushing down on the mattress with her heels to meet him halfway.
She would never get used to this—that moment when his hard cock took possession would always destroy her. Equal parts pain and pleasure, she could only hold on and surrender, giving herself over to that voracious fire that started whenever they were together like this.
Little sparks lit behind her eyes as he slid home. Tahlia panted as the head of his cock hit the entrance of her womb. “Oh, God, I love you. I love this.”
“Fuck, me too,” he gasped, his eyes squeezing shut.
He retreated and surged back, the hurried hungry slide of his cock splintering any last defenses she had. Tahlia lost herself, pulsing around him, trying to stroke him with her sheath until he cried out.
“Stop or I’ll come too soon,” he gritted out, pinning her hips and changing his angle so she couldn’t move. He sped up, his hard thrusts rocking her entire body.
Her breasts shook with force, swinging in time to his bucking hips.
“No, not yet,” she pleaded, scratching him involuntarily as she tried to fight the relentless crash of her orgasm. But it was too late. Her body crumbled, shivering as rapture claimed her.
Patrick held her quivering body close, his shaft still rock-hard inside her. “Don’t worry, Ace. We’re just getting started…”
Chapter 26
Tahlia woke shortly before noon, rough-skinned fingers stroking the sensitive underside of her breasts gently.
She’d slept like a rock, passing out after a few hours of frenzied lovemaking.
“I left bruises again. I’m sorry.” Patrick’s morning voice was as hoarse as she remembered.
She smiled, keeping her eyes closed. “I don’t mind them,” she mumbled.
Tahlia would rather feel this delicious soreness than let him be more gentle in bed.
Given her lack of experience, Patrick’s forcefulness should have scared her. It had the opposite effect. There was an intoxicating quality to his touch, one that inspired a wild, unbridled response. She didn’t want to give up that newfound freedom.
The little voice in her head told her she should be ashamed of herself. The things she let Patrick do to her were wrong—dirty. But she knew that wasn’t her voice. It was the men in her family, their oppressive rules and restrictions that had no rhyme or reason. All of that crap burned away when she was with Patrick.
Was it possible for someone’s first love to be their only one? I think so. She couldn’t imagine this feeling existing with another man.
Patrick’s fingers continued to work down until they reached the silky skin of her inner thighs. He pushed, parting her legs enough for his head to fit between. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, his teet
h coming to graze her swollen clit.
Each flick of his tongue sent a pulse through her. Tahlia grabbed his head reflexively, her fingers clutching his silky dark hair.
The pressure inside her built with each stroke of his tongue. The explosion was coming, she could feel it starting when Trick suddenly rolled, flipping her with his strong hands.
“Ride me.”
Startled, Tahlia blinked down at him. She was a bit high up along his chest for that. She began to move down, but he stopped her.
“I said ride me—my face. I want you to fuck my face.” He nudged her, guiding until her pussy was hovering right over his mouth.
His hand reached up to cup her breast, the other holding her still with a grip on her ass cheek.
Embarrassment warred with confusion, but Patrick wasn’t waiting for her to figure it out. He grabbed her, drawing her down until she was rubbing all over his mouth.
“Patrick.” He had to be suffocating.
Tahlia tried to get off him, but he wouldn’t cooperate. He plunged his tongue inside her, murmuring encouragement until Tahlia gave in, rocking above him as he ate her out.
It didn’t take long for her to forget the awkwardness. His mouth was working its usual magic—driving all rational thought away and smashing through her inhibitions.
His teeth bit her clit a little harder and his tongue stabbed up, fucking her over and over until she pulsed, coming in his mouth with a ragged sigh.
Trick took a long last lick before flipping them. She landed on her back, his member thrusting inside before the spasms died away.
Tahlia’s oversensitive body responded by immediately climaxing again. She bit Trick’s shoulder, cutting off a scream as he pounded her into the mattress.
“That’s it, baby. This time, come all over my cock.”
The cords in his neck strained, and his self-control splintered. Tahlia clamped down greedily, riding the last pulses as he surged and jerked, spilling his hot seed in her tight sheath.
