Bingo.
Magnus shot out of the room. The cops would be there any second. He had to keep the asshole running through the house until they came. He didn't have a huge amount of space to do it, but he'd try.
He raced down the hall through the kitchen, turning to face the human Godzilla just long enough to keep the guy following him, then turning down another hall, into a room, jumping out the window and coming back around the house. The guy was drunk and easy to outmaneuver, for now.
He should be hearing those sirens soon. Please. Please. Please. Hurry.
He was in the front of the house again. The man should've been at the back rooms, so Magnus opened the back door, turning the knob slowly, creeping into the short, narrow hall of the laundry area. He didn't hear anything until he felt a swish of air behind him and huge hands grabbing him from behind.
He cried out, whirling around. The guy's face was almost purple with rage, his fingers digging into Magnus's shoulders.
"Gotcha, you little shit." He drew back his fist. Magnus struggled, ducking, shifting but he couldn't loosen the guy's grip. He surrendered to what was coming and glared defiantly into bloodshot eyes.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
"They're coming for you, dickhead." Magnus hissed triumphantly, his fear flooded with relief.
The man looked out the window, and Magnus swung his own fist as hard as he could, barely making the bastard stumble, but it was enough.
He wrenched himself free, grabbed the mop and swung it and kept swinging until beefy hands yanked it from his grasp, but it was too late. Cop cars swarmed the house.
Hurling himself at the door, Magnus tore it open just as two cops rushed the stairs.
"He's in here. He might try to go out the back." He cried.
They caught the guy inside the house, handcuffed him and shoved him into a cop car while the paramedics took care of his mom, the ambulance rushing her to the hospital. Two officers stayed to ask Magnus questions.
After they'd gone, he sprinted to the Walkers' house, quietly opening their back fence and searching the yard for Patrick. He found his little brother under their Maple tree, wrapped in the quilt, asleep.
He fell to a sitting position, rubbing his face. His mother would be okay. She'd put her hand on his cheek and apologized, her own tears dripping onto the cot as it was pushed into the ambulance.
He would have to make changes.
He needed to be the man of the house. He needed to protect them.
He would need to make money, lots of money, get them into a better neighborhood. No more men, no more so-called boyfriends. They were all jerks. He couldn't keep his family safe if they were allowed to come and go. He would need to think of something.
He picked up his brother, cradling him against his shoulder, and made his way back down the dark, quiet street, plans already beginning to form.
Chapter Seven
Present
Magnus watched from the balcony. Where the fuck was she?
One night was all he needed. If she didn't come tonight, he'd need "Mike" to work on her for tomorrow night. She'd show up; she had to, and she'd surrender everything.
He knew the type.
Autumn Moretti was the classic good girl who wanted to be bad, at least for one night. He could tell by the way she'd looked at his body she wanted to feel those forbidden pleasures no man had made her feel.
She was aware of the dangers, but she wanted to know them for herself and then go back to her good girl world with a secret, a memory she could indulge when life became too monotonous, too boring, as it inevitably would for a girl like her.
He prowled the perimeter of the balcony looking down at the gyrating bunch of assholes he'd invited to his home to record their nocturnal activities for his future use, if and when it became necessary.
They were arrogant enough to believe they could indulge their fetishes and infidelities and never get caught. Part of that belief was that the masks actually hid their identities. From most, maybe, but not from him.
A movement at the door pulled his gaze from the crowd to settle on his newest guest. Autumn. Fucking finally.
Her hair was pulled up, loose and sexy, with a red net and a feather that swept at an angle. The thin dress that skimmed and dipped over soft curves had his body stirring to life.
He needed to claim her before some idiot tried to touch her and scared her away.
He strode down the stairs, ending a few feet from where she stood. She had moved away from the door and stood self-consciously against the wall. Now he could see her gorgeous tits up close, hard nipples pushing at their restraint.
His heart sped up, heat rushing to his cock. Fuck. He needed to focus.
Get her a drink. Magnus had no doubts that he could seduce her, but he didn't want to leave it completely up to his talents, especially with a woman who was sexually reserved and would probably question everything before she allowed herself or him to do it, even if it was for her own pleasure.
An unfamiliar pang of conscience made him hesitate, but he quickly shoved it away and discreetly signaled to Paolo standing in the corner by the bar. The man moved toward him, keeping to the edge of the room.
"Strawberry daiquiri. One shot." Magnus ordered quietly. Nodding, Paolo retreated back to the bar.
Magnus never felt guilty about anything, and he wasn't about to start now. None of this was personal. People might piss him off, but he wasn't a hothead. He didn't react; he planned. He had always done what he had to do to protect his family and his business, and he never looked back.
Staying in the dim light of the stairwell, he discreetly watching his reluctant goddess. She crossed one arm across her sweetly rounded breasts to clasp her other arm and search the room.
She was withdrawing. If she couldn't find Mike, she would leave. This was definitely not her thing.
Paolo reappeared at his side with the drink just as Magnus was about to go to her without it. Taking the drink, he shoved away from the wall to stroll casually and unthreateningly toward her.
"Welcome to my party." He drawled, making sure to lower his voice so she wouldn't hear any of Mike in his tone.
She jerked her eyes up, rubbing her arms. She was nervous as hell. His gaze dropped to the goose bumps pebbling her arms. He would have to proceed with caution.
"Oh, um, Mr. Steele?" She whispered, her voice breaking. She cleared her throat, pink heat warming her skin.
Magnus nodded, feeling both amused and protective by her lack of sophistication. He suddenly felt like the big bad wolf.
"I, uh, I hope you don't mind I'm here. I was invited by someone I met recently. Mike Connor?" She took a deep breath. He couldn't be making her this nervous.
He turned to look at the crowd. Ah. No wonder she was panicking. One man was cupping his partner's breast; another, kissing the neck of the woman in his arms.
If she saw too much, she might bolt.
"Sounds familiar." He replied, indicating he had heard of Mike Connor. He offered her the drink to pull her attention away from the randy bunch on the dance floor, and Autumn clasped the stem, brushing his fingers.
A blush coursed over her cheeks and she quickly brought the glass to her lips. "Thank you" She murmured.
"My pleasure."
He didn't take his eyes off her, letting his gaze glide leisurely, appreciatively over her body. "And you are...?"
She laughed nervously, cupping her glass and resting her lips against the rim "I thought these parties were anonymous."
"They are. No names. Just tell me something about yourself." He prompted, leaning against the wall with a grin.
"Oh boy. Well, I'm not a native New Yorker." Autumn gave him a sideways smile and heat bloomed in his chest.
"Are you a...west coast girl?" Unable to resist. He knew exactly where she was from.
She looked at him in surprise.
"Is it that obvious?"
He studied her for a few seconds.
"You'r
e a college graduate and have solid family values. You enjoy the symphony and reading books that make you think, but you're not uptight or pretentious."
He knew about her education from Dante's research, but Magnus had gleaned the rest over the past few days. "You have that play hard, work hard attitude, with gorgeous hair that looks like it's been touched by the sun and not by the bottle. I'd guess you grew up in California."
Her mouth fell open and she seemed to forget her shyness. "You are good! Or am I just that transparent?"
Should he feel guilty? Nah. He grinned. "Oh, I'm that good." He drawled, basking in the look of admiration in her eyes.
She laughed in obvious delight and he found his lips curving in a lazy smile, feeling delighted himself. Christ. Is this what a girl like Autumn would do to him? Turn him into a fucking tool, drooling and chasing after her in "delight"?
He couldn't get distracted. He needed to remember his reason for getting her there.
"What will you do if your friend doesn't show?" He asked, getting things back on track.
He discreetly signaled Paolo for another drink, holding up two fingers. A double. From what he'd seen yesterday in the cabin, it wouldn't take much more than three shots to get her loosened up.
She stared into her drink. "I guess I'll leave."
He felt a sharp pain in his gut, but he had this. "That would be a shame and a waste of a good time." His voice was a caress.
Autumn gave him a sidelong glance, confusion swirling in her normally candid eyes. He held her gaze with a look that should have erased any confusion. He wanted her. She cleared her throat and was about to duck her head but must have thought better of it.
"Why do you have these? Masquerades?" She asked instead, her voice quiet.
"Business." He said truthfully, tilting his head as he watched her bite her lower lip.
"Oh, of course. That makes sense." She said, tracing the rim of her glass.
She had no idea what that business entailed, of course. He wondered what she'd do if he told her it was the business of blackmail. That the "guests" making out on the dance floor were politicians, producers, CEO's, and other influential people who came here to indulge in their baser instincts, more specifically, to fuck people they didn't know, and that unknown to them, all of their actions would be meticulously recorded, labeled and filed for future use.
He did offer safety in the form of containers of condoms at the top of each staircase where the guests were urged to take several before being guided to the bedrooms.
There was also a strict prohibition on abuse and non-consensual acts, which were dealt with quickly. Despite these precautions, Autumn would still be shocked, so the less they spent in the ballroom, the better.
"Will you recognize him?" He asked, discreetly switching her almost empty glass for her new double shot daquiri.
"Mike?"
She smiled. "No, but he'll recognize me. He's the one who gave me the costume."
"Is he your boyfriend?"
"No. He's a good friend."
That simple, sweet comment made him feel both shitty and like a million bucks, but he wasn't going to dwell on it.
He wouldn't be distracted from what he needed to do.
Magnus watched as her cheeks flushed a deep pink and smiled when she looked up at him from beneath soft lashes. Pure Autumn. Girl-next-door sex appeal. Her lips lifted at the corner and she swayed. "I really like Mike. He's such a nice guy." She rambled, her voice warm and low.
He grinned, his hand moving to her lower back and leaned in to whisper in her ear.
"Dance with me until he comes."
She shivered and tilted her head toward him, closing her eyes, and his desire escalated. He wanted to feel her in his arms.
"What about the drink?" She whispered, lifting the glass a couple of inches and frowning at it as she blinked several times.
Magnus slid his fingers over hers, lifting the stem gently from her grasp.
His arm went around her waist, sliding on the thin satin and immediately feeling the heat from her skin. He pulled her close, keeping the drink low on the other side.
"You can put your arms around me." He whispered, his lips grazing her ear. She was soft and warm. He couldn't wait to get the net off her hair and run his fingers through the silky strands.
"I won't think you're flirting with me." He smiled, his gaze caressing her face.
She giggled against his chest and he grinned. She was a lightweight. Did she have any idea she'd just consumed three shots of rum? Probably not. What was safer than a pretty pink drink in a pretty shaped glass?
Autumn slid her arms up his chest and held on, nestling her cheek into his shirt. He breathed in her scent, sugar and spice, and everything nice.
He pressed her closer, feeling his erection meet the soft parts of her body. Moving his hips with hers, he closed his eyes. God, he needed to be inside her.
The song finally ended and Magnus took her hand, resisting throwing her over his shoulder. Instead he guided her patiently off the floor. Standing together near the stairs, he brought the drink to her lips and stared as her throat rippled on the swallow. He gulped down a steadying breath.
"Let me take you on a tour." He offered, his voice hoarse as he watched her tongue lick the ice off her lips.
He brought up the glass again, tipping it into her mouth. He watched her chilled cherry-red lips part on the rim as the ice slid between them. A groan escaped him before he could stop it. He wasn't going to make it. They had to go now.
"Can we dance again?" She asked, setting her palms on his chest to balance herself.
Fuck no.
"Of course." He forced a smile, his cock about to rip through his pants.
He set down the glass and led her back to the floor.
This time the music was faster and she started swaying to the beat, her eyes closed behind her mask, arms reaching up. Magnus moved closer, sliding his hands slowly up her arms as his hips moved with hers.
She opened her eyes, blinking and lifting them to his face.
"That tour." He drawled, staring at her lips.
"Yes." She whispered.
Chapter Eight
She followed him upstairs. A warning pulsated weakly up her spine, but she batted it away, like an irritating insect. They moved swiftly along the balcony, sliding through a side door leading to an upper hallway.
He'd taken her hand, entwining their fingers together, his warm touch setting off detonations of pleasure across her sensitive nerves. She wanted to feel that warmth all over, wanted him to wrap her entire body in it.
He came to a stop and abruptly turned to her. She couldn't see his face under the mask; only his lips, strong, sensuous, often smiling, but now slightly parted, heated, warmed by desire. His hair was black. His eyes were obscured by the mask and the dim lighting. They could have been blue, gray or black.
His thumb brushed her lip, his gaze lingering there. He brushed a kiss on her cheek, his hot breath skating along her ear.
"Ready?" He whispered.
Behind the door was the unknown, the mystery of sexual pleasure, passion without commitment. It called for total surrender into an intimacy that would end as if she had woken from a dream.
She nodded in answer, sucking in her lower lip to stop the trembling and stepped in.
A fire burned in the stone fireplace, its flame dancing along the pale gold stripes of the silk wallpaper, casting the room in a dreamlike glow.
A massive bed with carved wooden posts and headboard, covered by a deep, plush quilt and a plethora of pillows, made her stop. She stared at it, desire scorching her belly as a longing ache settled between her thighs. She swallowed and deliberately turned her attention away, focusing on the rest of the room.
"I love this room." She whispered, her feeling coming as much from a bursting of arousing sensations and an alcoholic fog as from the actual appeal of the surroundings.
When she didn't hear anything, Autumn turned back to him. He
was watching her, his eyes glinting in the light. It was the first time she felt a twinge of guilt for being there. The dark, undisguised lust obvious in his expression caused her apprehension to roar through the thick haze of desire clouding her mind.
"I probably should get back. Just in case Mike shows up." She nodded as if affirming that she needed to do exactly that and took a step back the way they had come.
She didn't make it far, stumbling on the edge of an oriental rug and falling into Steele's arms, arms that were now wrapping around her, holding her securely against his chest.
Autumn looked up, past gorgeous lips and into dark eyes. Indigo? Navy? She blinked, trying to restore some clarity to her thoughts and her eyesight.
"Hello." He drawled, those lips sliding into another gorgeous smile, one hand moving slowly across her back in soothing caresses.
His other hand moved across her face, brushing her cheek, his thumb sliding to her mouth. Autumn's eyes fluttered closed anticipating his touch against her lips, but instead she felt his tongue, skimming wet and hot and she clung to him, parting her lips. He slid deep into her mouth, stroking her tongue with his own.
Heat pulsed down her body as she molded her lips to his, slipping her arms over his shoulders, pressing her craving body closer. She let her fingers drift through his hair, down the warm base of his neck, feeling his warmth as he moaned against her lips.
He was holding her so tight, she didn't need her own legs to keep her up and she melted, allowing him to sweep her into his arms. Through the heat of his kiss and touch, Autumn felt him carry her across the room. He laid her down on something soft. The bed. The bed.
She had to think. She was an adult, wasn't she?
A law student with a 4.2 GPA soon to begin her own law career. She had her own apartment in New York. She made her own decisions because they were hers to make.
Then why did the disapproving images of her brothers shatter that confidence? Their overprotective rules and expectations, their certainty that she couldn't decide for herself made resentment bloom in her chest and burned away any doubts she might have had about staying.
Heart of Steele Page 4
