Merciless (Playboys In Love Book 3)

by Gina L. Maxwell

  “Emi, I want to be with you. Really with you. No more of this casual, friends-with-benefits thing we’ve been doing.”

  “I know,” she says softly, and I can see in her eyes that she does. “I want to be with you, too.”

  My heart feels like it’s going to fly right out of my chest, but I tamp down the celebrating. I haven’t won yet. “What’s holding you back?”

  She pulls back and stares at her hands in her lap. “My father. He has very specific expectations for how I live my life and who I live it with.”

  In for a penny… “Then why don’t I come over and introduce myself?” I tip her chin up to meet my gaze. “Every father wants to know the person his daughter’s spending so much time with is a decent guy, and I’ve never met a parent I couldn’t charm. I’m sure after he gets to know me it won’t be so bad.”

  “Really? You would do that?” she asks, the hint of hope curving the corners of her mouth.

  “Absolutely. I can’t wait to finally meet him.” And by “can’t wait,” I mean “wouldn’t mind putting off indefinitely.”

  “God, Austin, that would be great. He’s extremely old-fashioned. I think he’d really appreciate you taking that approach with him. I’ll talk to him tonight and then, after he’s had a few days to get used to the idea, you can come over for dinner. Fair warning, he’ll probably be gruff, bordering on rude, when you first meet him.”

  “I get it, Emi. If I was in his shoes, I’d be the same way.”

  “I’m sure once he sees what a great man you are and how happy you make me, he’ll be fine.”

  I can tell she doesn’t completely believe her own sentiments, but I’m choosing to ignore that for now. Smiling from ear to ear, I lean in slowly. “I make you happy, princess?”

  “Yes, you make me very happy.” She wraps her arms around my neck. “Among other things.”

  “Mmm, let’s explore some of those other things.” I nuzzle and nip at her neck as I haul her legs over mine and slide my hand down to palm her ass.

  She giggles, angling her head in invitation. “You’re going to lose that bet if we don’t get back out there.”

  I pull back and smile down at her, soaking up the joy I see on her beautiful face. “Best two hundred bucks I ever spent.” Then I go in for a kiss.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emi

  This past week has been a whirlwind of putting out fires and double-checking every detail to make sure tonight goes off without a hitch. The day of Relevé is always nerve-racking, but this year my nerves are more frayed than on opening night of Giselle for my debut as a principal dancer. Because at any moment, my father and Austin will be in the same room for the first time.

  I never did get the chance to speak to my father about my decision to not go through with marrying Marco. When I got home from the lake last week, he’d been on some kind of emergency conference call with the Italian office all night. Then with the last-minute event planning, my hours at the studio, and him working late hours, I haven’t seen my dad at all.

  Now I’m hoping like hell that I haven’t created the perfect recipe for disaster by not discussing this with him weeks ago when I realized that I wouldn’t be able to walk away from Austin. After experiencing what life is like with a man I care for—who I might even love—and who knows me better than I know myself, I could never accept anything less. Not only is it not fair to me, but ultimately, it’s not fair to Marco. We both deserve our fairy tales, ours just isn’t meant to be the same one.

  I try to take a deep breath, but my chest feels too tight. I ignore it as I head to the kitchen to check in with the caterer and make sure the hors d’oeuvres are making it out to the guests for the start of the cocktail hour. Pushing through the swinging door, I find my father in his tuxedo standing at one of the stainless-steel counters…lifting a piece of bread dipped in oil to his mouth.

  “Daddy!” I scold, snatching it out of his hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Pouting at me like a scolded toddler, he says, “It was only a little piece. Give your papà a break, eh? I am hungry, Emi.”

  “You give me a break. You want to end up back in the hospital?” He gives me a look of chagrin, which takes the bite out of my tone. I know it’s hard on him to stick with such a strict diet. As dancers, it was something my mother and I accepted as part of life, but breaking a lifetime of eating what you want isn’t easy. Sighing, I reach over and grab a carrot from where the staff is prepping the salads and shove it at him. “Here, eat this until it’s time for dinner.”

  His upper lip curls in disgust. “Cibo per conigli.” Rabbit food.

  I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow—the kind he’s famous for. He rolls his eyes and takes a bite of the carrot, making me smile. “Grazie, Papà.” Lifting onto my toes, I kiss his cheek before finding the lead caterer. As I speak with Antonia, I keep one eye on my dad. If he’s craving bread this badly, I might need to check his pockets throughout the night. I’m kidding, of course. Mostly.

  “Ahaaaa!” My dad’s sudden outburst nearly gave me a heart attack. “Emi, I have a surprise for you. It is almost here.”

  “Oh no, Daddy, what did you do? You know I hate surprises.”

  “Bah, do not worry, piccola principessa, you will love this one.” He kisses me on the forehead, and the little girl who still craves her father’s love and approval basks in the affection. “I cannot wait to see the look on your face.” All too pleased with himself, he chuckles on his way out of the kitchen, making me all the more nervous about what he has planned. If I make it through this night, it’ll be a miracle.

  My phone buzzes in my hand, and I cringe. Normally I’d have it tucked away in a clutch, but it’s my prime form of communicating with all the vendors and event staff. A quick glance down at the screen has me smiling in relief. It’s not anyone texting with a problem, it’s Austin checking up on me.

  Hey, princess. You doing okay?

  If by okay you mean stressed as hell, then yes. I’m super okay. Lol

  I watch the ellipsis wave as I exit the kitchen.

  Play with me.

  I stop in my tracks, the waitstaff with their trays flowing past me like water around an immovable boulder.

  Now?

  I can make all that stress melt away. All I need is 10 minutes.

  I drag my bottom lip between my teeth, tasting my cherry gloss and running through a checklist in my head of what needs to be done and when. The cocktail hour has started, the caterer is all set for now, and I won’t technically be needed anywhere until it’s time for dinner to do the formal welcome with my father.

  I stare at my phone, my thumbs poised above my keyboard… To hell with it.

  OK

  That’s my good doll. Always ready for me when I want her.

  Instantly, heat funnels between my legs. The use of that particular pet name affects me like nothing else. After we’d played together a few times, I grew bold enough to make a suggestion. I thought it would be exciting if sometimes my “attacker” was the same man, someone who’s obsessed with me and makes a game of toying with me whenever it suits him. Austin loved the idea and ran with it.

  Sometimes I know when he’s coming and sometimes I’m surprised, but I always know when it’s him. He’s the one who calls me his doll. And it melts me like the sweetest of endearments.

  Make your way over to the empty ballroom. Don’t make me wait. You won’t like the repercussions.

  I don’t bother answering, especially not to say that I’d probably like the repercussions very much. I keep my enjoyment on the inside as much and for as long as I can to keep up the game. Sometimes I’m better at it than others, but then he just turns it around on me like he’s exposing my true depraved nature, which is precisely what he’s doing. And he loves every second of it, even as he’s feigning disgust or contempt. Our kink definitely isn’t for everyone, but lucky for us, we match up perfectly.

  Keeping a brisk pace along the perimeters, I’m ab
le to avoid anyone who would detain me for schmoozing and elbow-rubbing. I sneak out of the ballroom where the gala is being held and cross the opulent lobby to where the other one stands empty. Every year we rent out both rooms because my father wants our guests to be able to spill into the lobby after dinner and mingle without fear of dealing with drunks from a wedding reception or something equally distasteful. I’ve always thought it was ridiculous, but it didn’t stop me from falling in line with his wishes. A habit I’m going to break, and soon.

  Passing the hallway for the restrooms, I wonder where he’ll be in the—

  A large figure steps out from the shadows into my path. My hands instinctively come up to catch myself against his chest and I feel his callused hands encircle my arms. In my five-inch black Jimmy Choos, I’m tall enough to tip my head up and kiss the underside of his jaw as I love to do, but I refrain. All I do is hold still and wait, listening to my own racing heartbeat and shallow breaths.

  “Raven,” he says, taking a step back and releasing me. My brows knit together with a frown. He’s never used my safe word before. I never imagined a situation where he’d be the one to use it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Not a damn thing,” he says, his voice roughened with the arousal darkening his green eyes. “I just need a minute to look at you.”

  I blush, the corners of my mouth lifting in a shy smile. I must have tried on at least two dozen dresses. I finally settled on a black satin mermaid style that hugs my slight frame before hanging loose at the knees with a split up the center to mid-thigh, revealing my long legs with every step. The bodice is mostly separated into two triangles by the neckline that plunges halfway to my navel and is held up by thin spaghetti straps that cross over an open back to my waist. My stylist, Peter, worked magic with my hair—it’s pulled to one side with sleek waves falling in front of my left shoulder—and he kept my makeup simple but played up my eyes with a dramatic smoky effect.

  My look is the perfect combination of “red carpet sexy and charity gala classy,” or so Peter told me. My only hope was that Austin would look at me exactly like this; like he can’t live another minute without making me his.

  “Jesus Christ, Emi,” he says, stepping in close enough I can feel the heat from his body. One hand rests on my hip, and I naturally lean into the one that cups my cheek. “You take my breath away.”

  “Same goes, cowboy. You look pretty fabulous in a monkey suit.” He does, too. The tuxedo fits his large frame perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and chest. His usually bed-messy hair is combed back and styled like a GQ cover model, and his strong jaw is perfectly smooth.

  “Before we start, I just need one thing.” He uses his thumb to lift my chin, and he kisses me with an affectionate reverence. No tongue or nips of teeth, just a perfect melding of our lips as his warmth seeps into me, heating me with the barest touch. “There,” he says, pulling back, and I watch the transition from sweet lover to carnal stalker. “You ready?”

  Already his voice has deepened, and fire sparks in my belly. “Ready,” I say breathlessly.

  He nods once, signaling that the game is on, and I’m able to take a full breath for the first time all night. Exhaling, the rest of the world slips away as he becomes the new center of my universe, exactly how he wants it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Austin

  “Into the ladies’ room. Now.”

  I flick my gaze up to scan the lobby. It’s a large area, fancy as hell and decked out with various places to sit and gather away from the main ballrooms. Most of the gala guests are enjoying cocktail hour, but about a dozen people are scattered out here in small groupings. Emi glances around nervously, but I use my fingers to bring her focus back to me.

  “Do you trust me?” I can reassure her with details of how I plan to protect her reputation in this public setting. But I want her to trust me. I want to know that she knows I’d never do anything to jeopardize her.

  “I do.”

  An emotion slams into me unexpectedly at hearing those two simple words from this exquisite creature’s lips. Last week on her uncle’s boat, I told her I was falling for her. I wasn’t being honest, with her or myself. Because I fell for Emmélie DeLuca the moment I watched her dancing on stage as though fighting to get free from a prison only I could see. I’m completely in love with her, and for the first time in my life, I want forever with a woman. With this woman.

  But right now, she doesn’t need my tenderness, she needs my monster. I studied her as she walked across the lobby, and I could see the tension in her shoulders and the clipped stiffness of her steps in place of her fluid strides. I’m here to fix all that.

  Narrowing my eyes on her, I lower my command. “Then go.”

  This time there’s no hesitation, no second glance as she walks away and disappears through the door twenty feet down the hall. Liam rises from where he was sitting across the room, waiting for my signal. The kid cleans up nice, but coming from an affluent family of doctors, he’s very comfortable in this type of setting. I, on the other hand, feel like a fucking imposter, but I’m gonna fake it till I make it.

  At least all my friends are here. I filled Emi’s empty table with Chance, Jane, Roman, Addie, Liam, Raquel, and Roman’s sister, Rhona, should be here shortly. No matter how uncomfortable I am in a tux, as long as I have my friends around me and Emi by my side, nothing else matters.

  “All set?” I ask him.

  “Affirmative, sir,” he mocks, positioning himself in front of the hall with feet apart and one hand clasping his other wrist in front of him like he’s fucking Secret Service.

  “Don’t be a prick, O’Donnell, just don’t leave this spot. Not even if you see someone flirting with Raquel.”

  He scoffs. “Why would I care if someone flirts with Raquel?”

  I barely manage not to roll my eyes. “Whatever, man, just don’t let anyone down there.”

  “Stop worrying and go see your lady. I got this.”

  I clap him on the shoulder, make sure no one’s paying attention, and then slip into the bathroom. I checked the layout before she got here and made sure it would work for my purposes. A fancy place like this doesn’t have normal utilitarian facilities. There’s an entire lounge area with posh loveseats and armchairs, multiple full-length mirrors, and several well-lit vanities for touching up makeup and hair.

  When I enter, she turns to face me, her hands clasping her phone in front of her. I hold out my hand, and she gives it to me. I switch it into silent mode and slip it into my inside pocket. I keep my gaze on her as I make a show of removing my jacket and draping it neatly over a nearby chair. Lastly, I drag a high-backed settee in front of the door. There’s no lock, and even with Liam standing guard, I feel better knowing there’s a second defense against someone barging in on us. Bonus: it adds a flair of the dramatic, making it seem like I’m doing it to trap her in, not keep others out.

  “How’ve you been, doll?” I emphasize the nickname as though I’m needling her with it, when in reality it has the same effect as twisting one of her nipples. This particular game was her idea, and it’s become my favorite. It adds intimacy to the barbarism, because this attacker knows her as well as he knows himself. He feels a sense of ownership over her and exercises his rights to her body whenever he damn well wants to.

  “How did you find me here?”

  “I always know where you are,” I say, slowly advancing on her. “You are mine. There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t find you.”

  “No.” She shakes her head, her soft waves swishing in front of her shoulder. “You can’t keep doing this to me. You have to stop.”

  I close the rest of the distance quickly and grip the back of her neck, extracting a gasp from her parted lips.

  I hold her firmly, our noses almost touching as I growl, “Lie to yourself if you want, but don’t you fucking lie to me.” My free hand reaches down to where the slit in her dress gives me the perfect access between her legs. I push
the delicate underwear aside and shove a finger into her wet pussy. Another sharp gasp is followed by her brown eyes turning black with desire and I feel her body softening into my touch.

  “Your pretty cunt is already dripping wet for me.” I give her a few slow thrusts, dragging my fingertip along the ridges of her G-spot. Her lids slide closed from the pleasure, but she fights to keep it to herself. But it’s my personal mission to make sure she fails.

  “I bet you lie awake at night—next to your dickless boyfriend—thinking about me, fucking yourself with your little fingers, wishing it was my big cock filling you up. Don’t you?” When she remains silent, I add a second finger and thrust up just as I tighten my grip on her neck and give her a tiny jolt, startling her into opening her eyes. “Answer me, doll.”

  “Y-yes,” she whispers.

  “Yes what?” I up the ante and circle my thumb around her swollen clit, making her thighs tremble around my hand.

  “Yes, I dream about you fucking me.”

  “That’s good, because I’m about to turn it into reality,” I rasp, feeling my control start to unravel at the edges. My cock is thick and heavy, demanding satisfaction. And from the way she’s squeezing around me, it won’t take much for her to go off. I need to move things along for both our sakes.

  I remove my fingers and bring them up between us and use my other hand to grip her jaw. “Now be a good doll and clean up your mess.” When she doesn’t comply right away, a thrill goes through me. I don’t know if she realizes what her shows of strength do for me.

  On the surface, they feed my kink. But deeper than that, every time she fights against me, she’s embracing this part of me; this part of her. Because if she wasn’t as into this as I am, she’d shy away from it. But not my brave Emmélie. She plays into it, and she does it with grace and beauty.

  Leaning in so that I speak against her ear, I say, “If you want to do this the hard way, I’m happy to oblige. However, I wonder what your guests will think when their princess returns to them with her gown torn and makeup smeared down her face.”