“Say ‘love me, Mr. Curry.’”
And when she didn’t, it seemed to enflame him into even stronger strokes. One of his hands skimmed her hip then drove toward her mons. She felt him trace her skin stretched around his shaft and shivered, the intimacy nearly unbearable.
Then his fingertips found her clitoris and his teeth bit down on the back of her neck and she came again, pleasure bursting through her in waves. Though her muscles tightened down on him, the rest of her opened, reveling in his heat, his scent, his possession. The tiny aches she knew she would happily cherish tomorrow.
Love me, Mr. Curry.
When he moved from her, she was too spent to do more than crawl under the covers he pulled back. Nor did she complain or protest when he settled beside her. Instead, she fell into instant sleep, and sometime later, dreamed..
…She wore her bridal gown, but she’d lost her shoes and was running barefoot on the hot sidewalks of Palm Springs, horrified that she was late for her own wedding. Tears ran down her face, but she couldn’t stop them, even though Enzo would be furious that she appeared at the altar looking less than perfect.
Up ahead was the church, finally, its double doors thrown open, the inside only deep shadows, making the entrance look like the mouth of a monster.
Sobs wracked her chest and she clutched the skirts of her dress in both hands and forced herself onward. Then a hard hand grasped her bicep and pulled her around.
Another monster. Enzo, his dark handsomeness exaggerated by the black tuxedo he wore. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said, then raised his arm to strike.
Cringing, Emmaline put up her free hand to protect her face, a fearful scream tearing from her throat.
Chapter 12
“Emmaline.” Lucas hovered over her trembling body, noting her rigid limbs and closed eyes. Tears seeped from beneath her lashes to streak her face. “It’s a bad dream, sweetheart,” he said, leery of touching her while she was in the throes of it. “It’s only a bad dream.”
She stirred, blinked, and then he drew her into his arms, holding her as he’d done when Stella was a little girl and had nightmares after their parents’ death.
“I’ve got you,” he said, smoothing his hand over the back of her hair. “I’ll take care of everything.”
As she continued to awaken, her body softened. Then she pushed against him, and he let her have some space, watching as she sat up and wiped her damp cheeks. Morning spread into the room, a gentle gray light that silvered the white sheets Emmaline kept tucked around her body.
It was best he didn’t have a clear view of all those golden curves with their intriguing and diverting rose highlights. Now wasn’t the time to be distracted by sex. Now was the time to prevent Emmaline from distancing herself again.
He gazed on her face, the drowsy, troubled eyes, the mouth with an unusual melancholy downturn. “Emmaline, what’s the matter?”
She shook her head. He tamped down his impatience, but it was frustrating as hell to want a woman determined to be unknowable. Unreachable.
“I’m going to make some tea,” she said, stretching for her robe on a chair by the bed. She managed to maintain her modesty while slipping into it, then she padded toward the door, evidently heading for the main kitchen though there was her own kitchenette nearby.
Lucas had the sudden thought that if she left the room, she’d soon find a way to leave him as well. Propelled by a raw fear, he threw back the covers and strode for her, clamping his hand around her upper arm to halt her progress.
She recoiled, ducking her hand and throwing up her palm to cover her face.
Dumbfounded, Lucas stared at her terrified expression, then he loosened his grasp on her, finger-by-finger.
“Emmaline,” he said, his voice low and gentle. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I startled you.”
With a murmur, she hurried out of the room.
Feeling queasy, Lucas found his jeans, pulled them on, and paced into the kitchen. Emmaline stood with her back to him, her attention focused on the tea kettle as if willing it to whistle.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said, then passed her to head for the second floor.
Under the spray of water as hot as he could stand, he considered her reaction and its obvious implications. It cheered him some to realize that never before had she cowered or shied away from him. That seemed to imply she’d mostly overcome the demons whatever she’d experienced had left behind.
Chalk up this morning’s reaction to those confusing moments right after waking, when she’d likely confused him with someone else.
But then another thought, a sobering thought, crossed his mind. Had her nightmare been a consequence of them drawing closer together?
No matter, he decided, turning off the shower and briskly toweling himself dry. Those demons of Emmaline’s were now his to permanently slay.
Back in the kitchen, he found that she’d showered as well and was armored up in cropped jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and sneakers. She’d tightly braided her hair like a woman going to war.
As if he were her enemy.
Lucas stifled his sigh and crossed to the cupboard to pull out a mug. Coffee was ready in the carafe, and he breathed in its bracing scent as he poured. Without a word, Emmaline slid a plate his way, holding a small cup of fruit and a sliced bagel, the two pieces lightly spread with cream cheese.
He didn’t have much appetite at the moment, but he picked up one of the toasted halves.
“I should tell you,” she said, her voice huskier than normal, “that I’ve been in contact with the academy’s placement agency.”
The bagel dropped from his fingers. “You what?”
“I’m looking for a new position.”
“Like hell,” he began hotly, then shut his mouth and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we start over?”
She slid him a quick glance.
“Good morning, Emmaline.”
“Good morning, Lucas.”
He took in a cleansing breath. “Thank you for last night.”
Her mouth tightened. “I should tell you that I’ve been in contact with the academy’s placement agency.”
Stubborn woman!
He picked up his mug and stared into the coffee. “You promised to stay until after Stella’s wedding.”
“And I will. But then I’m leaving.”
Gnashing his teeth would only result in expensive dental work. He looked over at her, noting the perfection of her profile. But her shoulders were stiff, and she held herself like a blow might come out of nowhere.
His stomach lurched and, nauseous again, he set down the mug.
“Emmaline.” Cold sweat pricked at his hairline. “Are you afraid of me?”
When her eyes darted his way, he clarified. “I mean physically afraid of me. Last night…I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No.” She shook her head. “No.”
He blew out a quick burst of air. “Good. Excellent.”
Stomach settling, he managed to take a swallow of coffee. What should be his next move? With days to go until Stella’s wedding, there wasn’t a need to push Emmaline into a confession at this precise moment, he supposed.
She picked up her cup of tea and carried it to the island, and the words just burst from him. “What happened?” he demanded, no longer able to modulate his tone. “Who hurt you?”
Her chin ducked toward her chest. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters! You won’t let me in, you want to run away, you’re going to turn your back on all that you have here in Malibu. What about Sara and Charlie and Wells? Who’s going to make his red velvet cupcakes in the future?”
Lucas could see that got to her. Emmaline’s face paled, but then her jaw tightened. “Maybe I’ll find something close by.”
“Oh, that’ll be fun,” he said, bitterness making his throat raw. “We can run into each other on occasion and exchange nods. Maybe even shake hands if you’re feeling brave.”
/>
“Lucas…” She shook her head.
“Tell me,” he said, coming to stand on the other side of the island, letting her have the barrier if that was what she needed to feel safe for the moment. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” a new voice said.
Lucas looked over to see his sister step through the sliding door that led to the back deck, bringing with her a cool dampness and the scent of salty water.
“What are you doing here, Stel?” he asked.
“I went for a walk on the beach and decided to stop in.” She huddled in an oversized sweatshirt. Beneath its hem her legs, in black spandex, looked like knobby sticks.
He stared at Stella. Something wasn’t right with her, either. Emmaline must have noticed too, because she rushed to make another cup of tea from the water in the still-hot kettle.
“Sit down,” she urged his sister. “Can I get you something to eat?”
Stella shook her head. Her hair looked lank and tired.
“Stel?” She didn’t look at him. He wasn’t the most intuitive of people, but even he could see that something was deeply wrong.
He thought of the three rules he’d talked about with Emmaline the day before, the three rules that children of alcoholics learn. Don’t trust. Don’t feel. Don’t talk.
God, had those become ingrained in Stella despite his best efforts? Disheartened, he forked his hands through his hair and glanced at Emmaline. With a subtle gesture, she encouraged him to draw closer to his little sister.
It was no hardship. Even though she hunched farther into her oversized garment, he came close enough that he could put his arm around her slender shoulders.
“I’m here for you, Stella, no matter what.” When had she become so boney? “You can tell me anything.”
“Not this,” she whispered. “You’d be so disappointed.”
His concern intensified. He met Emmaline’s gaze, as grave as he felt his own must be. “Nothing you can say or do would disappoint me, Stella.”
“I feel like such a coward,” she said, her voice a bare thread.
Emmaline stepped to the younger woman’s other side to brush Stella’s hair back over her shoulder. “Because you want out of a bad situation? That’s not cowardice.”
“You don’t understand. It’s not a ‘bad situation.’ It was what I wanted…thought I wanted.”
“If it’s not what you want now, Stella, you have the power to halt everything. To move on to something that’s better for you.”
Lucas’s sister shook her head again. “I’m not brave like you, Emmaline. It’s not like I could suddenly go off to Europe for five years.”
The butler’s gaze cut away, and she was silent for a long, heavy moment as she seemed to study the pattern of granite on the island. Then she lifted her eyes to meet Stella’s.
“Let me tell you why I went to Europe for five years.”
As she began to speak, Lucas felt as if quick-drying cement was replacing the blood in his veins. His muscles went from living to solid. His bones turned to lead. In a book he recalled from childhood, a main character turned to stone, and it was like that, except it didn’t still the painful beat of his heart. It slammed against the heavy cage of his ribs, loud like a mallet’s thump, but he still heard every one of Emmaline’s words.
“It started with little things,” she said.
Actually, it had started with a man eight years older who had showered a nineteen-year-old Emmaline with romantic gestures and declarations of unending love and devotion. Her father, a widower not much interested in the needs and wants of his girl child, approved of the guy—they had ties of business and community—and had encouraged Emmaline to marry.
“He went to my father and asked for permission,” she said, with a little grimace, “before mentioning it to me. They both sprang the idea on me during dinner at a special restaurant. All the other patrons were staring at us, waiting with baited breath as Enzo went down on one knee.”
“Enzo?” Lucas said, alert to the information, but sliding in the question like a sharp blade, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
“Vincenzo Abelli,” she murmured, her gaze distant. “It was all roses and wedding plans for a few months, but then…he became critical.”
Stella swallowed. “How?”
“He didn’t like my clothes, my friends, the fact that I didn’t always answer my phone.”
“He was trying to control you,” Stella said.
“And he did. Because after the arguments and the…the other, I just steeled myself to comply with whatever he wished.”
The “other.” Lucas could barely breathe around his growing rage. “He hit you.”
She sucked in a breath through her nose, then gave a sharp nod. “Slapped me, cuffed me, and on rare occasions used a closed fist.”
“Oh, Emmaline.” Tears sprang to Stella’s eyes. “I can’t bear that for you.”
Emmaline took his sister’s hand in one of hers. “And I can’t bear that for you, Stella.”
“What?” Lucas turned to his sister, rage redoubling. “Is Aaron harming you?”
“No, no. Not that.” Tears poured from her eyes, a waterfall of despair. “He doesn’t hurt me like that.”
Emmaline pulled her into her arms, and Stella clung to the butler, her sobs wracking her slender body. Lucas ran both hands through his hair, not knowing what to do until his sister turned and stepped to him, burying her face against his chest. He enclosed her in a sturdy embrace, looking over her head to meet Emmaline’s steady gaze.
Thank you, he mouthed.
Emmaline nodded. “I ran away from home, took on a new identity, and stayed distant for the last five years because I was afraid to break off our engagement and stop the wedding face-to-face,” she said, then put her hand on Stella’s shoulder. “But you’re brave enough to do that, aren’t you?”
Stella released another sob.
Emmaline rubbed her back. “You’ll never be free unless you confront what frightens you.”
Lucas closed his eyes, despairing for his sister. Don’t trust. Don’t feel. Don’t talk. God, he’d hoped Stella had bypassed those damning lessons, but maybe he’d fucked up after all.
Then Stella lifted her head, sniffed, rubbed at her wet cheeks. “I-I am brave enough,” she said, looking at Emmaline and then at him. “I am. With Lucas by my side, I’m brave enough for anything.”
A great wash of relief rolled through him. “Good,” he said to his little sister. “I’ll be right here all the way. Always.”
As she moved in to hug him again, he saw Emmaline wandering off in the direction of her rooms. Finally, her mystery had been solved. Now he knew what he was up against.
But then another thought pierced him. With Stella’s approaching wedding canceled, there was no promise―nothing―to keep Emmaline from leaving him.
“She grew up in Palm Springs as Coco D’Angelo,” Stella said, her color high, her eyes sparkling. She dropped into the chair across from his desk in his office on the seventh floor.
Lucas couldn’t help smiling at her. She made a happy co-conspirator, now that she’d ended her engagement to Aaron. Lucas had been on standby, ready to back her up however necessary, but she’d managed to deliver the news herself, especially after he’d assured her it would have no effect on the new merger.
And oddly, it was Aaron’s cousin Valerie who had stepped in to help with the work of unraveling the wedding plans. Emmaline too, which was how Stella had wormed the little nuggets he needed out of the butler.
“Palm Springs,” he repeated, and his fingers began flying on his keyboard. He’d considered tasking some of the top team on the seventh floor to help him gather the intel he was after, but it wasn’t a strictly white-hat task.
Though it was a necessary one, and he wasn’t going to suffer any pangs of conscience over it, either.
“You’re going to need me on this mission,” Stella said now.
“Is that right?”
“Yes,�
�� she said airily, and crossed her legs at the knee. In only three days she’d appeared to have regained some of her lost weight. “I have a degree in marketing, remember? I can help you showcase the idea in a positive light.”
“She already knows it’s the right thing to do. I’ll provide the opportunity, and she’ll take it from there.”
“Lucas—”
“‘You’ll never be free unless you confront what frightens you.’ Her words.”
Stella’s expression turned more doubtful. “I think you have to watch out for that man-logic. Don’t use it.”
“Man-logic?”
“The kind that doesn’t take into account emotions.”
He stared at his sister. “Logic isn’t supposed to take into account emotions.”
“See?” She pointed at him. “Man-logic.”
Half-baffled, half-amused, Lucas sat back in his chair. “What do you suggest I do then to ‘showcase the idea in a positive light’?”
“Coax Emmaline into it. And tell her she can count on having the two of us at her side.”
Since she’d been pretty much avoiding him, he didn’t know how to make that happen. “I think we’ll go with my first choice, and just kidnap her.”
Emmaline took special care with her appearance. Stella wanted to treat her and Valerie to a special lunch as a thank you for their help in handling the wedding cancellations. She wore a lightweight sleeveless sundress printed with melons and strawberries and slid into red, flat-but-strappy sandals. Her hair waved loosely around her shoulders, and she swiped a strawberry-colored gloss onto her lips.
The brightness cheered her up.
The butler academy had found her a possible placement in Napa Valley. She’d actually video-interviewed already, and it had gone well. Neither partner in the male gay couple worried that having a single young woman on the premises would tempt him to stray outside the bonds of marriage.
She was flying up there in a couple of days for an in-person interview and a tour of their home. Finding her purse, she tucked the lip gloss into the outer pocket. More cheer might be necessary as the afternoon wore on.
At the front door, she met Lucas.
“Oh,” she said, placing her hand over her chest. Already her heart was shifting into overdrive. “Hello. Stella’s coming to pick me up.”
The Seduction (Billionaire's Beach Book 5) Page 18
