by T. L. Cannon
If he were being perfectly honest with himself he would have to admit that he’d previously taken note of how physically attractive Cydney was, on more than one occasion. He was a red blooded male after all and she had a smoldering brand of sex appeal that was hard for a man to ignore. But he had always regarded her in much the same way he did a beautiful Monet painting hanging in a museum: as something to be appreciated from afar but not touched. However, the way she had looked when she’d opened her front door to greet him that evening had him contemplating taking up his brother Ethan’s previous sideline in art theft.
The satiny fabric of the lavender evening gown she wore clung enticingly to her curves, highlighting their lusciousness in a way that would have made Donovan’s jaw drop if he were a man inclined to such outward displays of emotion. The strapless design of the dress revealed a smooth expanse of silky, olive tinted skin that glowed with a beckoning warmth that had his fingertips tingling with an intense urge to slowly slide against it. Of course, he had kept his hands to himself even as the tingling sensation had insidiously worked its way to lower parts of his body as the evening wore on, much to his chagrin. The whole situation was getting embarrassing. He was a fully grown man who’d had more than his fair share of beautiful women through the years. It made no sense that he would be feeling like a school boy on his first date. The entire situation left him feeling unsettled and more than a little grumpy.
“What’s the matter? Are you afraid to ask her to dance?” Dylan asked as if reading Donovan’s mind.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Donovan replied dismissively as he ran a hand through the soft spikes of his short cropped, sandy-blond hair.
“Are you sure? Because you look a little scared,” Dylan countered as he took a sip from the champagne flute in his hand, enjoying watching his big brother squirm.
“Well, I’m not.”
“Then prove it,” Dylan demanded, the knowing smile on his face now morphing into a sly grin.
Donovan cocked an eyebrow incredulously. “Prove it? Are we back in high school now? Are you actually daring me to ask her to dance?”
Dylan let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Get lost,” Donovan snapped, shaking his head.
Dylan's hazel colored eyes widened with realization. “Oh my God. You really are scared.”
“Why are you two huddled up in a corner like a couple of wallflowers?” Ethan asked as he joined his brothers. “What’s up?”
“I think I’ve finally found the one thing on earth that the Big D is scared of,” Dylan explained as he nodded his head in Cydney’s direction.
“Ah, yes. The lovely Ms. Chase,” Ethan deduced with a smile. “I noticed him checking her out all night. He is definitely a smitten kitten.”
Donovan rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have anything better to do on your wedding night than join in on Dylan's juvenile nonsense?”
“Not at the moment.”
“I told him that he should ask her to dance but he’s too scared to,” Dylan explained.
“I’m not scared!” Donovan snapped again. “I can’t even believe we’re having this ridiculous conversation!”
“We wouldn’t be if you would just go over and ask your date to dance,” Dylan pointed out.
“This is true. That would shut us up real quick,” Ethan concurred.
“In that case, I will definitely ask her to dance,” Donovan announced with an exasperated sigh. “Anything to shut you two up.”
Shoving his hands into his tuxedo pants, Donovan crossed the ballroom floor, his long, muscular legs maneuvering him through the crowd in a relaxed, unhurried stride.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked as he leaned over Cydney’s shoulder to whisper in her ear, trying to ignore the tantalizingly feminine scent that radiated from her skin.
The feel of Donovan’s breath against her ear sent a shiver down Cydney’s spine. “I would love to.“
Donovan couldn’t help noticing that her voice sounded huskier than usual and, on a primitive level, he also couldn't help taking a certain amount of male satisfaction from her reaction. Smoothly sliding his large palm beneath her much smaller one, he enveloped her hand in his. Gently pulling her to her feet, he guided her to the dance floor. The four inch heels she wore elevated her to his full six feet three inches worth of height, bringing them eye-to-eye as he took her into his arms.
“I was beginning to think that you were never going to ask me to dance,” Cydney murmured as she watched him through smokey gray eyes that shone with a womanly perceptiveness that he found dangerously intriguing.
“I apologize for that,” Donovan said as they swayed in time to the soft music floating lightly around them. “But, as your employer, I wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate, what with sexual harassment laws being what they are.”
Cydney laughed gently, her voice taking on a silken tone. “In all the time that I’ve worked for you, you’ve never struck me as the type of man to concern yourself with what’s appropriate. Or legal for that matter.”
Donovan smiled at her bluntness. “I suppose you have seen some rather questionable things during your time with me, yet you’ve never questioned any of it. Why is that?”
“You don’t pay me to question things.”
Donovan’s eyes glowed as they scanned her face, taking in her high cheekbones and full lips with unconcealed appreciation. “That’s a good answer, Ms. Chase.”
“I don’t think it would be a violation of any sexual harassment laws if you were to call me by my first name.”
Donovan’s hand settled more firmly into the small of her back and, ever-so slightly, drew the lush, soft length of her body against the sinewy hardness of his. “OK. That’s a good answer, Cydney.”
Her name slipped from his lips in a low, raspy whisper that sent a jolt of sensual heat surging through her body. Looking into Donovan's eyes, she saw that same heat smoldering within their emerald depths. And then, in a split second, it was gone, replaced by something cold and hard as his gaze locked onto a target just over her left shoulder with the ominous single-mindedness of a heat-seeking missile.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Donovan growled, this time the low timbre in his voice had a chilling effect on Cydney as she turned around to face the cause of his sudden change of mood.
“It’s my son's wedding day, where else should I be but with family?” Jared Halifax asked, his eyes, the exact same shade of emerald green as Donovan’s, glowing with defiance.
“You and I are not family,” Ethan seethed as he suddenly appeared at Donovan’s right side.
Dylan silently took up his post at Donovan’s other side, the three brothers uniting to form a formidable wall of defense against the intruder. A current of angry tension hovered dangerously in the air between Jared and his sons like a dark storm cloud, causing the hairs on the back of Cydney’s neck to stand on end. Instinctively, she moved in closer to Donovan.
“Don’t fool yourself, boy. I’m as much a part of the three of you as your own souls. I’m in your blood. In your heads. Isn’t that right, Donovan?” Jared directed his malevolent gaze at his oldest son, a disdainful sneer twisting his lips. “I bet you still have nightmares about me like you did when you were a kid.”
A tiny muscle flexed at the base of Donovan’s jaw as an unwanted flash of childhood memory slashed through his mind. Brutally, he shoved the memory aside with the ice cold efficiency of the dangerous creature that memory had shaped him into becoming. “I haven’t been that scared little kid in a very long time. I think I proved that during our recent skirmish over the Wong subconcession.”
Jared scoffed. “The only thing you proved is how much you underestimate me. It’ll take a lot more than stealing one business deal away from me to bring me down.”
“Is everything OK?” Kira asked as she hurried to Ethan’s side, the long, satin train of her wedding gown trailing behind her.
“Considering what the cat just drag
ged in, obviously not,” Chloe pointed out as she looped an arm through Dylan’s in a pointed display of solidarity.
“Well, if it isn’t my lovely ex. Charming as ever I see,” Jared said as he glared down at Chloe. “How is little Emma doing?”
“Thriving now that she is away from you,” Chloe spat out, unable to conceal her hatred for her former husband, unwilling to forgive the hell that he had put her and her daughter through.
“Why are you here?” Dylan asked through clenched teeth as he wrapped a protective arm around Chloe’s waist, drawing her closer to him.
“I have some news that I want to share with you all. Something I’m sure that you and your brothers will be particularly interested in considering your recent preoccupation with my financial affairs.”
Donovan snickered. “We don’t need a face-to-face update. The details of your fiscal implosion have been front page news in financial publications for months now. Word on the street is you’ll be bankrupt before the end of the year.”
Jared fixed Donovan with a hard gaze. “To paraphrase Mark Twain, reports of my financial demise have been greatly exaggerated.”
“Is that so?” Donovan replied coolly. “What happened? Did the casino fairy leave a billion dollars under your pillow?”
“Something like that. Only it wasn’t a fairy, it was a gambling syndicate. A very prosperous gambling syndicate that has infused Halifax Gaming with enough capital to make it a force to be reckoned with in this town once again.“
“So what do you want from us? A ticker tape parade?”
Jared bristled at Donovan’s neutral tone. “What I want is for you to know that I didn’t need that Hong Kong subconcession after all. You and your brothers wasted your time, not to mention your money, keeping it away from me.”
Donovan waved his hand dismissively. “Fine, you’ve delivered your message. You can leave now.”
“I’ll leave when I’m ready to leave.”
“This is my hotel,” Donovan seethed, his previously neutral tone now taking on a menacing edge. “You’ll leave when I damn well tell you to leave.”
Jared remained firmly rooted in place.
“Maybe we should call security and have Mr. Halifax escorted out,” Cydney suggested as she put a calming hand on Donovan’s arm, hoping to de-escalate a situation that seemed to be on the brink of spinning out of control.
Donovan clenched his fists tightly as the mere sight of his father on his property threatened to stir the perpetually smoldering embers of his hatred for the man into a full blown blaze. “I'm more than capable of escorting Mr. Halifax off the premises myself.”
Jared beckoned Donovan toward him with both hands. “Bring it on.”
Donovan took a step towards Jared causing Cydney to tighten her grip on his arm, his flexed bicep feeling like silken steel beneath the expensive material of his tuxedo jacket. “Don’t do this,” she implored in a firm whisper. “This is your brother’s wedding day.”
“Mind your own business, bitch!” Jared spewed in Cydney’s direction.
Before she’d even had a chance to register the insult, Donovan charged at his father like a raging bull, his fist connecting with the other man’s jaw with lightning speed, knocking him to the ground with a resounding thud. Instantaneously, Cydney, Dylan and Ethan dove into the melee, attempting to pull Donovan off of Jared. Blinded by fury, Donovan bucked against the attempts to restrain him. Wrapping his hand around Jared’s throat, he pulled his fist back to punch him again, his elbow accidentally connecting with the middle of Cydney’s chest in the process. The force of the accidental blow sent her careening over backwards. She let out a yelp of pain as she landed on the marble dance floor, the sound of which immediately snapped Donovan out of his wrath. Releasing his death grip on Jared's throat, he quickly scrambled to Cydney’s side, turning his back on his father. Ethan and Dylan grabbed Jared by each arm, thwarting his attempt to lunge at Donovan in retaliation.
“Are you alright?” Donovan asked as he gently took hold of Cydney’s shoulders and eased her into a sitting position.
“I’m OK,” Cydney insisted even as she winced at the pain radiating from her right hip, which had taken the brunt of the fall.
“I am so sorry,” Donovan said as he brushed a sleek strand of dark hair out of her eyes, guilt etched into his face as deeply as the scar slashed across his cheek. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know you didn’t,” Cydney assured him as she gathered her legs back beneath the hem of her long dress and gracefully rose to her feet, using Donovan’s outstretched hand as leverage to pull herself up.
“Let this be a lesson to you,” Jared warned as he glowered at Cydney. “Women who get between me and Donovan tend to end up getting hurt. If you don’t believe me, just ask him what happened to his mother.”
“Get him out of here!” Ethan yelled angrily as he flung Jared towards the two Enclave security guards that he'd summoned to the ballroom the minute he’d seen Jared enter the room.
“This isn’t over, Donovan!” Jared warned with a backwards glance as the guards escorted him through the crowd of wedding guests gaping at the public display of the Chance family’s dysfunctional dynamics in mortified silence, moving him swiftly towards the nearest exit.
“You’re damn right it's not over,” Donovan swore under his breath as he stared daggers at Jared’s departing back. His father’s warning to Cydney had hit him like a face full of acid, burning him to his very core, but for her sake he let them wash over him without further reaction, consoling himself with the knowledge that Jared’s day of reckoning was coming.
Fast and hard.
CHAPTER TWO
“Are you sure you’re OK?” Donovan asked as he studied Cydney’s face in the muted glow beaming down from the tastefully recessed lighting above the living room of his penthouse, searching for any signs of distress.
“As I’ve already told you repeatedly, I’m fine,” Cydney reminded him as she draped the delicate lavender scarf that matched her dress over the back of the sofa next to her. “But it looks like you may have come out of that scuffle a little bit worse for the wear.”
“What makes you say that?”
Stepping in closer to Donovan, Cydney plucked the perfectly folded pocket square from his tuxedo jacket. “The cut on the side of your face,” she replied as she pressed the white handkerchief against a thin line of blood just below his left ear.
“How bad?” he asked as he inhaled deeply, savoring the feminine scent that suddenly teased his senses as a result of her nearness.
“Not bad at all,” she said as she lifted the handkerchief to inspect the damage. “It’s little more than a scratch, really. It won’t even leave a scar.”
“Good, I wouldn’t want something as unseemly as a scar ruining all this perfection,” Donovan replied with a sardonic chuckle as he casually gestured towards his face.
Cydney's gaze shifted to the thin ridge of raised skin sliced across his left cheek, her eyes widening with mortification. “I’m sorry. That was very insensitive of me.”
“There’s no need to feel sorry for me,” Donovan replied defensively, not liking the look of pity he saw in her eyes. “The scar doesn’t bother me anymore. In fact, I’ve developed a great appreciation for it’s function as a good reminder.”
“A reminder of what?”
“Of what happens when you let your guard down,” Donovan replied flatly before flashing a wry grin. “Of course it’s not the most attractive of reminders but I suppose it matches the rest of my face in that regard.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Your face looks pretty good to me,” Cydney said, impulsively tracing the path of the scar with her fingertip as she evaluated the appealingly rugged terrain of his face.
Donovan’s entire body tensed in response to the teasing lightness of her touch as all of the underlying sexual tension that had been hovering unobtrusively between them for months suddenly thickened, electrifying the air around them in the p
rocess. Gently encasing her hand in his, Donovan pulled it away from his face as he contemplated the fullness of her lips, wondering how they would feel against his. Imagining what they would taste like.
As if reading his thoughts, Cydney chewed nervously at her bottom lip as she held her breath, bracing herself for what she sensed was about to happen next. Just when she thought that she might explode from the conflicting feelings of anticipation and impending doom that mingled uneasily within her, a familiar swooshing sound distracted Donovan from his thoughtful examination of her mouth, shattering the moment. Cydney let out the breath she'd been holding as Donovan released her hand and shifted his gaze from her lips to the elevator directly behind her just as his two brothers stepped out of it’s compartment.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Ethan said, barely suppressing the mischievous grin that was his trademark.
“You’re not interrupting anything,” Donovan said brusquely as he stepped around Cydney with the disinterested air of a man circumventing an inconveniently located piece of furniture. Cydney tamped down a troubling sting of disappointment as she turned to face all three Chance brothers.
