Undisclosed: Nights Series Book 7

by A. M. Salinger

  Along with information of the Hudson Group’s rapid expansion and the many awards the business had won since its creation, Eveline had come across tidbits of gossip involving the man himself. Lincoln had dated some pretty public figures in the past, including several models and actresses. What was interesting was the fact that he had always been the one who had broken off the brief liaisons. He was evidently not into long-term relationships.

  “Don’t bring my father into this,” Lincoln growled.

  A shiver danced across Eveline’s skin at the fire in Lincoln’s eyes and the electric tension filling the space between them. Even though she knew she’d pissed him off, she couldn’t help the flash of desire that twisted her belly at his dominating tone.

  Lincoln in complete command was a massive turn on.

  Eveline swallowed and collected her bag from the floor.

  “Midday tomorrow,” she repeated in a steely voice that masked her disquiet. She slid her sunglasses back down onto her nose and gazed at the man behind the desk. “Your secretary knows how to reach me. My lawyers will be in touch after that deadline.”

  She turned and headed for the door, amazed her legs weren’t shaking at the hot energy radiating off the furious man behind her.

  LINCOLN LET out a ragged breath and raked a hand through his hair when the door thudded closed after Eveline.

  His skin felt raw and his muscles quivered with the fury that still filled him. But, more than fury, Lincoln was shocked by the lust that still burned through him. Even though he was mad at Eveline for bringing up his father, his rock-hard erection was proof that he was still very much attracted to her.

  The door opened. Barnaby walked in. He stopped and blinked when he saw Lincoln’s face.

  “Whoa,” the secretary muttered. “Someone’s rattled your cage.”

  Lincoln ignored the ache in his groin and frowned. “Get your hands on everything you can find out about Eveline Claude and Le Secret.”

  Barnaby smiled shrewdly. “This for business or pleasure?”

  Lincoln hesitated. “Business.”

  Barnaby raised his eyebrows. “You sure? ‘Cause, let me tell you, as a bisexual, I wouldn’t mind a piece of that action.”

  Lincoln rolled his eyes. “The woman would eat you for breakfast, so don’t even go there. Besides, I get the feeling she’d sell your skinny ass to the highest bidder if it made her a profit.”

  Barnaby grinned. “She can have my ass all day long.”

  Lincoln’s frown deepened.

  “Alright, alright, I’m going,” Barnaby muttered.

  The secretary returned two hours later with a dossier on the woman who had stormed into Lincoln’s office that morning and left him with a major hard-on.

  Lincoln spent half his afternoon reading up on Eveline Claude, aka Madame Claude, and all her business endeavors. By the time he finished with the last file, he was wearing a grim smile.

  He’d been right about Eveline. She was brilliant at business, just like he was. And she loved to play hardball, just like he did.

  Lincoln swiveled his chair around and stared at the golden light bathing Tokyo, the idea that had been simmering at the back of his mind finally taking shape. He knew just what to do to address the problem that was Eveline Claude. And he was looking forward to the look on her face when he made his counter offer to her tomorrow. That it would infuriate her just as badly as she’d angered him when she’d mentioned his father was a given.

  Lincoln grinned. His trip to Tokyo had just become doubly enjoyable. He was determined to have as much fun as possible with the feisty blonde who’d come onto his radar. And by the time he was done with her, she was going to regret ever crossing his path.

  CHAPTER 4

  “HONESTLY, THE GUY’S A GIANT DICK,” Eveline said in a clipped voice into her cell phone.

  Ethan Skye chuckled at the other end of the line.

  He’d called her just as she’d walked through the door of her apartment at seven that evening. Worn out by the day’s events and in need of a long, cold drink and company, Eveline had almost gone over to Saron when she’d left Le Secret. An exclusive gay club owned by Ethan’s boyfriend Joe Cavendish, who also happened to be a close friend of Eveline’s and a former male escort for her business, Saron was the place where Ethan worked as a bartender.

  Not that he needed the job.

  Known as Mr. S in the stock market, Ethan was a genius who’d amassed a fortune worth five times that of Eveline’s in as many years. Although Joe had repeatedly told Ethan he didn’t have to carry on working at Saron after they got together, Ethan still chose to do so. Mostly because he liked to be able to get in Joe’s pants any time of night and day, but also because he really enjoyed his job, something the club’s patrons were more than grateful for. Ethan was a world class bartender and people lined up at the doors to drink his cocktails. It didn’t hurt that he was very easy on the eyes, a fact that caused Joe plenty of jealous moments whenever someone tried to get close to his precious boyfriend.

  Eveline was still surprised at how quickly she and Ethan had become attached to one another. When she’d heard that Joe had put his own life at risk to protect a new employee from a stalker over a year ago, she’d gone over to Saron to check out the mysterious bartender who had apparently gotten through the walls Joe had built around his heart. She’d liked the feisty, green-eyed blond from the moment he’d opened his mouth and told her in no uncertain terms what she could do with her opinion, after she’d played devil’s advocate to test his feelings for Joe. That Ethan was just as in love with Joe as Joe was with him had been evident from the get go, and Eveline relished that she was the one who had given the two men the final little nudge to consummate their relationship.

  Ethan was very much the little brother she’d never had, and their relationship had only grown in strength over the last year. He was her shopping and lunching buddy, as well as her unofficial financial advisor when it came to her stocks and shares investments.

  “Is he a giant dick or, you know, a giant dick?” Ethan said.

  Eveline rolled her eyes at the overt innuendo as she left the marble foyer and entered her open plan condo. “Are you seriously asking me whether I’ve checked out my enemy’s junk?”

  “Well, yeah. You’d investigate the Hunchback of Notre Dame’s dick, you’re so horny these days,” Ethan said blithely.

  “Hmm.” Eveline headed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Chardonnay from the wine cooler. “I bet Esmeralda would have fainted if she’d seen Quasimodo’s package.”

  “So?” Ethan said impatiently.

  “So what?” Eveline muttered distractedly, her hand stilling on a corkscrew as an image of Lincoln flashed before her eyes. Her belly tightened instantly with desire, a fact that irritated the hell out of her.

  “You haven’t answered the dick question,” Ethan said.

  Eveline sighed, tucked the phone between her shoulder and her ear, and popped the cork off the wine bottle. “Yes, he is disproportionately…big.”

  Ethan sucked air between his teeth. “Like, bigger than Joe?”

  Eveline groaned. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.” She grabbed a wine glass from a cabinet and poured the sparkling liquid into it.

  “I like big dicks and I cannot lie,” Ethan said, paraphrasing one of their favorite karaoke songs. “Not that I’d swap Joe for anyone,” he added hastily. “I mean, I could spend all day waxing lyrical about that man’s—”

  The sound of a scuffle broke out across the connection. Ethan cursed.

  Eveline took a sip of her wine and grinned when another man came on the line.

  “I’m sorry, I’m afraid Ethan’s gonna have to call you back,” Joe Cavendish said silkily.

  She heard Ethan groan in the background.

  “You’ve got him over your shoulder like a caveman again, haven’t you?” Eveline said with a chuckle. She headed into the lounge and dropped into a black, leather Barcelona chair.

&n
bsp; “You know me well,” Joe said, amused.

  There was a faint thwacking noise in the background. It was followed by an outraged cry.

  “Did you just spank me?!” Ethan squealed.

  “That’s what you get for even thinking about another man’s dick,” Joe said. “And I’ll be doing more than just spank you before the night is over.”

  “Oh God,” Ethan moaned.

  Eveline giggled. She knew Ethan loved it when Joe went all alpha on him.

  “I’m gonna have to go, Evie,” Joe said distractedly. “This kid needs a lesson about who he belongs to.”

  “But—but I’m still on my break!” Ethan protested in the background.

  “Akihito and the others can cover for you,” Joe said with grunt.

  Eveline was still grinning when the call disconnected. She was reaching down to slide her right shoe off her foot when her cell rang again. She frowned when she saw the number. She straightened and took another sip of her wine before tapping the answer button.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Miss Claude?” someone said at the other end of the line in accented English.

  “Speaking,” Eveline said briskly.

  “This is Yashiro Nakamura, head of parking security for the building.”

  “Oh. Hi, Yashiro,” Eveline said, her tone warming. She’d gotten to know the apartment complex’s management team over the three years she’d been living there. “How’s that grandson of yours doing?”

  “He’s doing great, thanks for asking, Miss Claude,” Nakamura said, his voice ringing with pride.

  Eveline smiled faintly. Nakamura’s grandson was a rising star in the Japanese university baseball league. From what Nakamura had told her over the last six months, he had a real chance at winning a contract with one of the major teams at tryouts this year.

  “About the incident you reported to my staff this morning,” Nakamura continued. “We’ve identified the owner of the vehicle who scratched your car and informed him of the incident. He was genuinely surprised and has offered to make amends. It seems he accidentally knocked his golf bag against your Maserati when he swung it out of the boot of his vehicle last night and didn’t notice the damage in the dark.”

  Eveline raised an eyebrow. Well, that’s the first plus of the day.

  “Have you got his number?” she asked. “I’ll call him tomorrow and—”

  “If it’s convenient for you, Mr. Hudson has informed me that he’s more than happy to meet with you this evening and come to a personal arrangement, Miss Claude.”

  Eveline froze. No way. It can’t be—

  “Mr. Hudson?” she repeated carefully.

  “Yes,” Nakamura replied. “Mr. Hudson is the new penthouse tenant. He moved in last week.”

  Eveline’s mouth went dry. Please God, let it not be him.

  “What’s his first name?” she said hoarsely.

  “Excuse me?” Nakamura said, surprised.

  “Mr. Hudson’s first name. What is it?” Eveline mumbled.

  “His full name is Mr. Lincoln Hudson.”

  Eveline swore.

  CHAPTER 5

  THE DOORBELL RANG at exactly seven eighteen.

  Lincoln’s lips curved in an amused smile as he glanced at his watch.

  That was fast.

  The bell buzzed again. He took a sip of his scotch and headed leisurely across his apartment. His grin widened when the bell rang a third and fourth time. The caller evidently had reached the limit of their patience as they started pounding heavily on the door next.

  Lincoln knew exactly who was on his doorstep and he was intent on savoring every second of what was to follow.

  He reached the foyer, unlocked the entrance to his penthouse, and swung the thick mahogany panel open. He leaned casually against the wood and crossed his ankles as he studied the red-faced woman opposite him.

  “You fucking asshole!” Eveline roared.

  She stormed past him, her cell phone and apartment key in hand.

  Lincoln swallowed a chuckle. His cock stirred as Eveline’s perfume wafted across his nostrils.

  “Come on in,” he drawled over his shoulder.

  He closed the door and headed after Eveline as she stomped inside his lounge. She stopped abruptly in the middle of the marble floor and spun around to face him, locks of wavy blonde hair whirling to frame her high cheekbones.

  “That’s a brand-new car!” she spat.

  Remorse flashed through Lincoln at her accusing tone. He’d genuinely been unaware of the damage he’d inadvertently caused to the blue Maserati he’d parked next to last night when he’d come home. He’d only been renting the penthouse for ten days and he was still getting used to the place.

  He’d been riding the elevator to his apartment that evening when the head of the building’s parking security called him and told him about the incident. Lincoln had immediately agreed to pay for the cost of the repair.

  To say that he was stunned when he’d learned the identity of the Maserati’s owner would be a gross understatement. Lincoln was quick to realize that Fate had thrown him a bone. Shrewd predator that he was, he’d snatched it right up and fully intended to relish every tasty morsel, down to the very marrow.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Lincoln said. “I’ll get Barnaby to arrange to have it fixed tomorrow.”

  Eveline blinked, surprise widening her eyes. “Oh,” she mumbled. “Hmm, okay.”

  Lincoln bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at her suddenly deflated expression. He was surprised to discover that he was very much looking forward to getting to know this woman, and not just because she was smoking hot.

  His anger at what she’d said to him that morning had faded by the time he’d left the office. Lincoln had grudgingly had to admit that Eveline couldn’t have known how much he hated the very mention of his father’s name and had likely had no idea the reaction it would engender when she’d taunted him with her threat. That she would fight dirty didn’t surprise him. He would have done the same thing had he been in her shoes.

  What hadn’t changed, however, was his determination to bed her. Which was why he was still going to make her a counter offer he knew wouldn’t please her.

  EVELINE DRAGGED her gaze from the enticing glimpse of Lincoln’s bare chest. He’d undone his tie and left the ends hanging casually loose. The blue silk matched his eyes and framed the V of his neck where he’d unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt. His skin was tanned and lightly freckled, the smattering of visible hair making her want to rip the material off his body and rake her fingers through the crisp, dark curls.

  She forced an aloof expression on her face to hide the sudden flash of desire coursing through her, placed her hands on her hips, and turned slowly.

  “You haven’t done much with the place,” she said critically as she inspected the penthouse.

  The apartment was a separate, open-plan, concrete and glass construction set over two stories atop the condominium. It was enclosed by a wooden deck that framed an L-shaped swimming pool and a rooftop garden offering a dazzling, 360-degree-view of Tokyo.

  The inside was an interior designer’s dream. Marble floors contrasted elegantly with white-washed walls alternating with dark wood paneling, giving the place a unique, contemporary feel. Scattered throughout the airy living areas were sleek, made-to-order furnishings and contemporary art pieces that looked like they had a five-figure price tag. The whole place was bathed in clever lightning and kitted out with top of the line electrical goods that screamed money.

  What it lacked were personal touches. She couldn’t see any sign of the infuriating man who’d charged into her life that morning and who was fast becoming the subject of every filthy fantasy she’d ever had.

  “You’ve visited the penthouse before?” Lincoln asked curiously.

  Eveline rolled her eyes at him. “Everyone’s visited the penthouse. It’s the building showpiece.” She chewed her lip. “I would have bought t
he place myself three years ago if it wasn’t so ludicrously expensive. I didn’t know they were renting it—”

  She gasped when her gaze landed on the state-of-the-art kitchen to her right. More precisely, it narrowed in on the blackened remains of a metal contraption.

  LINCOLN FOLLOWED Eveline’s line of sight, puzzled. He grimaced when he registered what had captured her attention.

  “You!” she hissed. She dragged her eyes from the evidence of his one shortcoming in life and pointed a finger at him. “You’re the asshole with the waffle maker!”

  Lincoln rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, gadgets aren’t really my thing,” he muttered awkwardly.

  He’d never mixed well with technology, something his sister and his few close friends delighted in teasing him about. His housekeeper back in New York had even banned him from using any of the labor-saving devices in his home after he set the juicer on fire.

  The incident with the waffle maker that morning had hardly come as a surprise.

  Eveline opened and closed her mouth soundlessly. She uttered an outraged sound, marched over to the well-appointed, circular bar set against the west wall of the lounge, and grabbed a bottle of Scotch from the shelf. She poured herself a generous amount, eyeballed the level of the spirit with a scowl, and doubled it. She dropped a couple of ice cubes in the tumbler before climbing onto a stool and gulping half the drink.

  Lincoln watched, amused, as she slumped face down over the counter and groaned.

  “You okay?” he asked, glancing at the expanse of stocking-covered, golden flesh exposed by Eveline’s skirt where it’s ridden up her thighs.

  Fuck. What I wouldn’t give to have those legs wrapped around my waist right now.

  Eveline shoved her left middle finger at him where she lay across the counter. “No. I’ve had a shitty day and it’s all thanks to you, Mr. Dickhead Hudson.”

  Lincoln chuckled at the insult. He glanced toward the kitchen.

  “Have you eaten yet?” he said impulsively.