Forbidden Desires

by Jenna Hartley

  Smarty pants. “There isn’t any. I think we might be setting some sort of world record is all.” I bit my lip to keep from smiling, and his eyes shimmered, more mesmerizing than the lights dancing on the water.

  “I look forward to smashing it,” he said, and I giggled. “If there’s nothing else you need, I’m going to retire for the evening.”

  His formality was amusing. “Shall I curtsy, Princess?” I gracefully performed the motion.

  “Cute.” Daniel went back inside, and I was compelled to follow. He crossed the living room to the front door.

  “Where are you going?” I asked as he placed his hand on the door handle.

  He turned around to face me, sporting smug better than the most arrogant of bastards. “To my room. It’s next door, should you need me.” He cocked his head and gave me a smile of victory. “Don’t look so disappointed, Princess. I’m sure you’ll sleep just fine without me.”

  * * *

  “I have been for a very long time,” I countered, and he lifted a brow as if he didn’t believe me before leaving me alone in the Grand Canyon of hotel rooms.

  I surveyed the suite. What the hell was I going to do with all this space? I went into the bedroom, and there on a padded bench at the foot of the bed, was my suitcase.

  “Muriella!” I shrieked. Normally I might not be so thrilled with the invasion of privacy, but my belongings were a welcome sight. But not as welcome as the white slice of heaven behind it. A bed. A real fucking bed. I hadn’t slept in one since leaving Texas, and I didn’t know if I should get on my knees in thanks or jump up and down on it. So I flopped on my back, sinking into the feather pillows and plush linens, moaning with pleasure. A bed. It was worth the trip just for this luxury.

  Too wound up to sleep, too full to eat, and it was too late to go sightseeing—I was at a loss as to what to do with all my energy. The phone on the nightstand rang, and I rolled over to pick it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Everything all right with your room?”

  “It’s a little on the small side, but I suppose it will do for one night.” I sighed dramatically, and he chuckled. I couldn’t have that laugh in my ear. It always did things to me. “Do you miss me already?”

  “Vivian, I’ve spent nearly twenty-four hours straight with you.” He sounded stern, which only served to egg me on.

  “I know you did. I can’t say I blame you. If I ever had to be apart from myself, I’d miss me too.”

  “Go to sleep.”

  I thought I heard a smile in his voice. “I can’t. I’m too excited,” I complained, though this was the best kind of predicament to be in. I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

  “Try.”

  “It’s kinda hard, with the phone ringing off the hook.” “Good night, Vivian.”

  “What are you doing? How’s your room?” I asked, stalling. I balled up the sheet in my hand.

  * * *

  “Would you like to see for yourself?”

  “Sure. I’ll be over in a sec.” I hung up, took a minute or two to check that I didn’t look as wired as I felt, and darted out of the suite into the hallway. There was only one door to my right, and it was propped open with the safety latch, so I waltzed right in, praying it was his room.

  “Don’t make me come there to obtain that piece myself because you are too inept to do the job I hired you for.” His menacing voice sent a shiver down my spine. Definitely the right room.

  His eyes flickered when they landed on me, the only emotion on his otherwise stoic face. Exactly how big a dragon I was provoking? But I wasn’t afraid of him, even if I should have been.

  “Five hours. Deliver my goods or be prepared to pay. Personally.” He hung up and dropped the phone on the desk.

  “Yikes,” I commented, mock-shivering.

  “It’s business,” he said, his tone already different from the one he’d used on his call.

  “You sound like a man not to be messed with.”

  “Haven’t you figured out that’s exactly what I am?” he asked, one of those sculpted dark brows arched.

  His phone rang, and he accepted the call almost eagerly.

  “Donato.” He listened, his posture that of someone absorbing everything without having to write it down. I didn’t bother to pretend I wasn’t eavesdropping. Daniel actually smiled at whatever the person on the other end of the line said. “You have definitive proof the senator accepted money?” Another series of nods, and Daniel’s smile broadened. “This is perfect. We’ve been waiting for just the right person to talk. We’ll get what we want from him now. Both of us will benefit. You’ll keep your contacts placated, and we’ll have him in our pocket when we need him.” My gut told me Daniel’s business teetered on the fine line between legal and criminal, but as long as he wasn’t hurting anyone or himself, I wasn’t sure I cared. “I’ll speak with him this evening. When will these fuckers ever learn that spilling secrets to your mistress is a bad move? Once they get ditched, they always talk.”

  The person he was speaking with said something else to which Daniel agreed, and then they ended the call.

  “We’re trading rooms,” I announced, crossing my arms from my position in the doorway of his modest accommodations. “Why would you give me the other room? I don’t need all that space.”

  “There is only one Presidential Suite in the hotel,” he said, as if this explained it all.

  “Well, you should be the one in it.” I frowned at him. “Any room is fine,” I said quietly. He’d seen my apartment. That much should be obvious.

  “You seemed to like the suite earlier.”

  “I do. It’s fantastic. But from now on, I want the cheapest accommodations.”

  “That won’t do for a princess.” His words were teasing, but his eyes were serious.

  I made myself at home on the sofa, deciding to let it go. “So…hypothetically speaking…how much money do you think a person might need to eat for two weeks in New Zealand?” I asked, fingering a snag near the bottom of my sweater.

  “None,” Daniel said without hesitation, totally getting my drift. “Hypothetically speaking, how much money does said person have with them?”

  I lifted my chin. “Six dollars and seventeen cents. And a mini Three Musketeers. If you’re nice, I’ll share.” A quick peek in my purse at the restaurant had made it clear, if anything happened here, I was up shit creek.

  “Come here, please.”

  I beamed at him. “You’re a quick learner, Mr. Elliott.” He pointed to the chair on the other side of the desk. I took the indicated seat.

  “Why did you donate all your money at the Paths of Purpose charity event?” Daniel leaned back. I started to lie by telling him I hadn’t, but he squelched that notion with a look.

  I quirked my mouth and shifted uncomfortably. I didn’t want anyone to know what I’d done, but apparently I hadn’t been as discreet as I thought. “What makes you think that?” I asked, deflecting. The lights outside the window suddenly became very interesting.

  “Vivian. I watched you dig in your purse down to the last penny and stuff it in that envelope. You didn’t even have enough for a ride back to your apartment.”

  Being under his scrutiny became impossible, so I got to my feet and paced in the small space between desk and sofa. “You’ve seen those children. Met the women who come to Paths of Purpose.” When I finished speaking, I was standing on the opposite side of the desk from Daniel, with my hands on the smooth wooden surface, leaning toward him.

  “I can’t understand giving up everything for strangers.” There was admiration in his eyes.

  “I didn’t give up everything, just money.”

  “There were people at that party who have more than they can ever spend, and they gave less than you did.”

  “Well, I hope you weren’t one of them,” I said with sass, beyond ready to get off this topic. He relaxed, and I did the same. “Tell me about your family.”

  Daniel gripped the armrest.
“You’ve met my family,” he gritted out, the vault doors slamming shut. “You should get some sleep.” He was much more controlled when he spoke this time, and I didn’t like that. Naturally, I didn’t want to see him hurting or angry, but I didn’t want him to hide from me.

  I pushed out of my chair and rounded the desk, stopping beside him. He watched me with wary eyes as I spun his chair so he was facing me. I nudged his legs apart and stood between them, slipping my fist under his chin and tilting his face up, forcing him to look at me. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make my dreams come true, so I’m going to draw the conclusion that you want some sort of relation‐ ship beyond this trip.” I stopped and smiled impishly. “That might not be true by the New Year, but it’s safe to say for now.” I turned serious, locking my eyes on his. “I don’t expect the whole enchilada right now, but if you want me, you can’t shut me out. I know I’m practically a stranger, but I have no intention of remaining one. If you keep me at a safe distance, I’m going to be at an unreachable one.”

  There was no need to beat around the bush. I knew what I wanted, wouldn’t settle, and it was only fair he understood my expectations. They might not be easy, but they were definitely doable.

  “You want me to bare my soul? Tell you all my deepest, darkest secrets?” His voice was laced with sarcasm.

  “Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “I won’t be with somebody who won’t let me know them. I want a partner. I don’t need a body to keep me warm at night. That’s what blankets are for.”

  “This is a heavy conversation for a first date,” he said, fingers drumming on the arm of the chair.

  “We’ve already established that this is no ordinary first date,” I reminded him, and he quirked his mouth as if to say “touché.”

  “Vivian, if you’re looking for romance and happily ever after, I’m not your man.”

  “I want a partner. I want trust and respect and honesty. Someone who will face life with me head on. Sometimes he’ll carry me, and sometimes I’ll carry him. We’ll laugh together, fight together, give each other everything. I don’t need a fucking white knight on a horse. I can save my own ass, and I can buy my own flowers. The only thing I want is you. If you can’t give me that, there’s no need to go any further.”

  He gripped my hips, eyes searching mine as he tried to find the words. “I—”

  “It’s really very simple. Either you can give me all of yourself or you can’t. And I don’t mean I need it all right now. I need to know you won’t hide from me forever. You can think about it.” I cupped his face and kissed his forehead, giving him an understanding smile.

  “And you’ll give me all of you?” he asked, and hope sparked inside me.

  “Everything. You would be the only one to ever have it, Daniel.” A fierce possessiveness came into his eyes, as if that idea appealed to him. “It’s a risk for both of us. In the end, we might get burned, but I don’t do anything half-assed. It’s better you know that now.”

  “I already know that.”

  I snorted and brushed his hair out of his face. “How about this: let’s have a good time while we’re here. No pressure. No strings. We’ll just live. Like you said, forget about everything else. After a couple of weeks together, the answer will be clear one way or the other.”

  “Sounds sensible enough.”

  “Good.” I led him over to the sofa. “Now. You can tell me every detail about where we’re going.”

  “I don’t think so, Princess.” I pouted. “Just a hint.”

  “No.” I made a face, and he gave me a scolding look. “Aren’t you glad this was a surprise?”

  He had a point, but I didn’t have to concede easily. “I guess. I’ve had a really good time so far.”

  “Me too.” That acknowledgment made my heart expand, and I patted his leg. That stoic look clouded his face again, and I was sad to see the lighter version of Daniel go, although I did like the way he stared into my eyes as if he couldn’t look away. He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “My parents are dead.”

  My brows lifted, but not at what he’d said. It was what the admission meant. Daniel was going to try.

  Chapter 22

  DANIEL

  * * *

  Present

  * * *

  I NEEDED a drive to clear my head. As if the encounter with Vivian hadn’t done enough to kill my day, my attorney putting me off hadn’t helped matters. At his wife's insistence, he was taking a long weekend at his house in Connecticut to oversee the installation of a salt water spa, but she thought my presence would distract him from that vitally important task. I insisted we reschedule immediately because despite the inconvenience of a trip to Connecticut, I needed his services urgently. I shoved down my irritation. This was what I got for procrastinating. I should have had Zegas do this for me years ago, but I didn’t, figuring there’d always be time to get around to it.

  My phone rang through the car speakers. “Hello, Barron.” “Did you see the news?” he asked, almost giddy.

  “Not in the last hour,” I said, draping one hand on the wheel, resting the other on the gearshift.

  “Rudolph is out.”

  “Congratulations.” Barron’s interest in this senate race was multi-faceted. The incumbent was in his back pocket, so that was a win. But he also made good money for facilitating the deal we’d cut with Rudolph’s aide. Fucker should have been more discreet about taking bribes.

  “Don’t sound so excited. Have you ever smiled, man?” “This is me grinning,” I returned stoically.

  “Your mouth is fucking turned down right now, but I’m happy enough for the both of us.”

  “Good work.”

  “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you didn’t mean it.” “I won’t say it twice.”

  I hung up before he could come up with another smart-ass remark. “Time” by Pink Floyd came on the stereo, a reminder I didn’t need. I was running out of it.

  ONCE I GOT BACK to my building, I stopped by Muriella’s before going upstairs.

  “Muriella,” I called after letting myself in.

  “Daniel?” She appeared from the kitchen as I set my briefcase down in the foyer. “Date go bad?”

  My lips parted at her sarcasm. I was used to it when it was playful, but this was a jab. “I wasn’t on a date. But had I been, then yes, it went very badly.”

  “Hmph.” She turned her back, leaving me on my own in the hallway.

  I followed her into the kitchen. “You’re still mad at me?”

  “I’m going to be for a while.” She picked up her phone off the counter and fiddled with it as if I wasn’t even there.

  “Muriella…” I started, grasping for some sort of explanation that would make her understand.

  “Don’t bother. I have no desire to hear a string of lame excuses for why you’re doing this.”

  “Good, because I don’t feel like coming up with any,” I snapped.

  She folded her arms, and I let out a frustrated breath.

  “Dinner’s almost ready,” she said. The woman amazed me. She was mad as all hell at me, yet she could set that aside to take care of me.

  “You don’t have to do that.” I softened my tone.

  “I’ll be upstairs shortly.” Her way of telling me to get out of her kitchen.

  I grabbed my briefcase on my way out, taking the stairs up to the apartment. Dread filled me as I unlocked the front door and stepped inside. I hated coming home to an empty place. No, that wasn’t true. If the apartment had been filled to capacity, it would have felt no differ‐ ent. What I hated was coming home to no Vivian. It was a thousand times more painful than I’d ever anticipated, and I’d known it was going to hurt like a motherfucker. I nearly turned around and went back downstairs. On more than one occasion, I’d almost asked Muriella if I could stay with her. But that would have blown my cover. I shucked off my suit jacket and tie, then loosened the top few buttons of my shirt before settling into the chair behind my
desk. There was work to do, fires to put out, but I could hardly concentrate. It was by a sheer force of will that I made a few calls I’d put off. I was just wrapping one up when the red light on the security system lit up.

  Dinner was here.

  When I lifted my eyes to the doorway, I thought I was hallucinating. I’d pictured this so many times over the last few days, I struggled to know if it was real or an illusion.

  “Vivian.” It came out sounding hoarse, desperate. Not at all what I’d intended.

  She watched me for a moment from the doorway, and she saw every‐ thing. It was in the confident way her eyes assessed, like she could see in my soul how much I fucking missed her. She didn’t bother to hide her feelings either. I knew the woman better than I knew myself. She was coming through the other side of hell, standing straighter than she had earlier in the day, a bit of that spark back in those eyes I loved to get lost in. She had on the damned ballet shoes, the old jeans and sweatshirt that was just plain torture, revealing one shoulder, no bra strap. I gripped the arms of my chair to keep from charging her and licking that line from her shoulder all the way to her neck. Fuck me, that neck. It needed my mark, to show the world she was taken, to remind it and her who she belonged to.

  She showed no hesitation as she moved toward me, came around the desk, and parked her gorgeous ass on the edge of it. I sucked in a breath and held it. She smelled delicious. She smelled like home.

  Fighting an urge to bury my nose in her hair and inhale the sweet‐ ness, I remained cold, going so far as to glare at her with a how dare you enter my space without invitation stare. Typical Vivian, she was unmoved and even less intimidated.

  “I’m not letting you leave me.”

  That was what I’d expected from the outset. A fight. Her steely determination. Pride that she was going to fight for me warred with my need for her to just let things be.

  “That’s something the two of us would need to agree on. Which we won’t,” I returned, keeping my voice devoid of any emotion.