“About that, let’s be seated, and I will fill you in on the particulars.”
My feet were still not moving, my high-heel sandals seemingly rooted to the rough tile of the corridor. “You know about our business deal?”
“Emma, I have done my best to learn everything I could about you.” His hand again came to my lower back. His fingers splayed warmly upon my skin, between the top and skirt. “Come, let’s talk.”
“This…it doesn’t feel—”
He turned, his one hand skirting my waist, while his other still upon my back applied pressure. “Come now…” His deep tone echoed through the corridor as his eyes simmered. “Admit to yourself what this does feel like.” His possessive hold tightened, bringing me closer. “Admit it is exhilarating and stimulating. Admit that you’re curious to hear what I have to say. Admit that you’re intrigued and even turned on. When you do, I’ll admit my thoughts.”
I tried to step away. “You have no right—”
His chin rose, silencing my protest. I thought back on his last statement as I stared up into his dark orbs. “Your thoughts…about what?”
“Why, about you, of course.”
“What about me?”
“Dinner first.”
Without provocation, I began to walk in step as Rett led me down the hallway. As he pulled open a heavy wooden door, the floor changed from rough to smooth marble, and we were met with a swoosh of cool air. A smiling woman in a long red gown nodded our way.
Peering down at the top and gauze skirt I’d worn, I suddenly felt significantly underdressed.
“Sir,” the lady in red said, “your table is waiting.”
As if reading my mind, Rett leaned down, his lips close to my ear as his warm breath teased the sensitive skin of my neck. “You’re absolutely spectacular. Your outfit is perfect.”
“I-I didn’t know…”
Again he led me as we followed the woman in red.
She opened one of two large wooden doors to an intimate dining room. The chandelier above acted as a prism, creating golden light that danced upon the ceiling as the crystals swayed. The walls were covered in rich oak paneling, trimmed in intricate carvings. The one and only table was set with a white linen tablecloth and red linen napkins. A single red rose in a silver vase with two tall candles in silver holders glowed from the center. Releasing his touch of my back, Rett moved forward and pulled one of the large high-backed chairs away from the table for me to sit.
Once again, I hesitated.
My gaze went to the woman in red. Her equally red lips were curved into a smile, and her eyes were set on me.
Okay. She knew I was here.
That should mean it’s safe?
Right?
“Emma.”
My name rolled off Rett’s tongue with the slightest of accents, deep and commanding, as if giving me little choice but to take the chair he offered.
With a deep breath, I moved forward and sat. Rett pushed the chair toward the table and took the other seat. Seductive music infiltrated the air, unlike the loud notes out in the courtyard; this melody was softer and teamed with the melancholy twang of blues. Even without words, it sounded like poetry floating through the air.
Rett lifted a bottle of wine, presenting the label. “My research showed that you’re a connoisseur of red wines, the drier the better.”
I didn’t speak.
What kind of research had he done?
“This cabernet sauvignon is extremely rare. It’s a members-only selection from a quaint vineyard in northern Michigan. I specifically requested it for this evening.” Before I could speak, he continued, “The grapes in 2011 were threatened by an early frost. The harvest was expedited, resulting in fewer than one hundred bottles to be corked. As you can imagine, acquiring a bottle is not easy.”
His dark eyes gleamed with something I couldn’t determine.
He continued, “I enjoy the hunt almost as much as the acquisition.”
Apparently, the cork had already been removed. Rett poured a small portion into a glass, swirled the contents, and inhaled. “But, my dear Emma, once the target is obtained, rareness alone no longer gives it value. For once it’s obtained, the sense of rarity is lost. That is when the true value is tested. That worth comes from the combination of quality, uniqueness, and taste.” He passed the glass my way. “Please, have the first sip.”
I took the glass. “I already drank a hurricane. I’m not sure if I should drink any more, especially before food. That was what I was about to do—”
“Only a sip,” he interrupted, “and you will understand what I’m saying.”
I did as he had, taking the stem in my fingertips and swirling the contents. The aroma filled the globe of the glass, and as the deep ruby liquid stilled, the scents of plum, blackberry, pine, and violets filled my senses. I tipped the glass, allowing the wine to tease my lips. The earlier aromas came to life on my tongue. It truly was unlike any wine I’d ever tasted.
“Well?” he asked.
“It’s delicious and you were right, unique.”
Rett poured himself a glass and sat back, his button-down white shirt stretching over his wide chest. Against the wide girth of the chair, he appeared almost regal, as if instead of a chair, we were seated in thrones.
“I chose this wine,” Rett began, “because of its similarity to you, Emma. Unique, highest quality…” He leaned forward and lifted the glass toward the candlelight. “See how the liquid shimmers?” His dark stare met mine. “It’s beautiful like you.” He took a sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing and the muscles in his neck pulling tight, an involuntary response to the tartness. A grin returned to his full lips. “Pursuing you has been fascinating. I’m aware of your quality and unique nature. Now that you’re here, the only parameter yet to decide is taste. However, I have no doubt that you too will taste delicious.”
My lungs burned with my caught breath as heat radiated from my cheeks. “That…it’s…inappropriate.”
His smile returned, this time gleaming from the black holes of his orbs. “No, Emma. It’s a perfectly appropriate thing to say to you, the woman who is about to be my wife.”
FIVE
MY PULSE KICKED up as Rett’s words registered.
Yet how could such a statement truly register?
It was a proclamation with no basis in reality.
Lowering my glass of wine to the linen tablecloth, I laid my hands upon the table’s edge, preparing to push my chair away.
“Rett, this—”
The door opened and a second later, a parade of servers entered, thwarting my escape.
Once again, Rett’s full lips quirked in amusement, recognizing my failed attempt to flee. Within his dark stare, the reflection of the candles’ flames flickered.
“Mr. Ramses,” the oldest gentleman in the parade of servers said with a dramatic bow, “we have prepared your meal to your specifications. We do hope that you and your companion will enjoy.”
Ramses?
Rett…Everett Ramses.
The connection was made, yet I couldn’t speak.
I could—I was capable—it was that Rett was still speaking to the man.
“…thank you, Elijah. I’m sure it will be delicious as usual.”
Elijah turned my way and poured more wine into my glass. The other waiters placed plates before us and uncovered dishes of some of New Orleans’ traditional delicacies: barbecued shrimp, charbroiled oysters, and golden curry. Their unmistakable aromas swirled through the air, reminding me of my earlier hunger.
“Miss North,” Elijah said, “Mr. Ramses said it had been a while since you visited your home. Please let us know if we can bring you anything that isn’t offered.”
I inhaled, looking from Elijah to Rett.
I wanted to say that I could be offered my real name—O’Brien. I wanted to say that New Orleans wasn’t my home. Pittsburgh was where I’d called home since graduating from college.
However, it was clear that
to do so would prolong this conversation. Therefore, I simply said, “Thank you, Elijah.”
By the time Rett and I were once again alone, the servers had heaped generous portions of each dish upon our plates. As close as I’d been to making an escape, the delicious aromas were making my stomach growl.
After the door closed, Rett looked my way. “Eat, Emma. You yourself said you were famished.”
“I was expecting French fries or onion rings, not a seafood smorgasbord.” I lay the spoon down that I had just lifted. “You’re Everett Ramses.”
He nodded. “I am.”
“Why do you keep referring to me as North when my name is O’Brien?”
“We will get to that.”
My head shook. “Okay, so you’re Everett Ramses, and that’s how you knew about the business meeting.”
“Correct,” he said, drizzling lemon juice over an oyster before sliding it from its shell onto a thin cracker and eating it.
I stared for a minute, my gaze volleying between the man at the end of the table and my still-untouched food.
How did I get here, to a private dining room, with him, the man Ross has been talking about nonstop?
The only one who could answer my question was Ross.
I pushed my chair away from the table and stood. “Thank you for the invitation. I must bid you goodbye, Mr. Ramses. This has been…interesting; however, I believe—”
Before I could finish my sentence, Rett was out of his seat and in front of me.
Perhaps it was the length of his legs or maybe he had been a track star in an earlier life. I wasn’t certain how he’d moved as quickly and yet as gracefully as he did. Much like a panther threatening its prey, Rett had me blocked. The door was beyond him.
I took a step to the side and then another in the other direction. Forward wasn’t an option.
I sucked in a breath as my neck and shoulders straightened.
Instead of toward the door, I stepped backward—the two of us moving in sync—away from my escape. Our unchoreographed dance continued until my shoulders collided with the wall, and I was sandwiched between the carved-wood paneling and over six feet of solid man.
“Emma, you don’t understand.”
My breathing quickened, yet I wasn’t inhaling, not in a way that brought the needed oxygen to my rushing bloodstream. The result was a tingling in my extremities.
Rett—no, Mr. Ramses—was so close.
I inhaled the mix of garlic and wine on his warm breath, as well as his rich, spicy cologne. Warmth radiated from his solid body. I placed my palms against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heart beneath. My head shook. “I don’t. You’re right. I don’t understand—any of this.”
Reaching for my hands before a protest came to my lips, he lifted both of them over my head, pinning them to the wall. The move caused my back to arch, pushing my breasts forward. He stared, scanning me down and back up. No longer did the candles flicker in the dark orbs, but something more unnerving. As his gaze lingered, physical changes occurred within me. My insides twisted, no longer from hunger for food, but with an appetite for something I shouldn’t want.
What is it about this man that speaks to me, not with his voice but with his mere presence?
Never in my life had I felt such an attraction, as if I wasn’t in control of my body’s reactions. I’d turned down men like him in the past, men who oozed power and dominance. I’d walked away with my head held high. And yet with Rett, in a matter of maybe an hour, I was putty in his hands.
It was more than the way he commanded the situation; it was also the lustful desire in his eyes. I saw it in his stare, the way the dark now swirled with more. The throbbing of my core caused my high heels to shift upon the floor as my desire grew.
As he leaned closer, I knew for sure that it wasn’t just me.
A hardening erection against my tummy alerted me that he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
Holding my hands in place above my head with one hand, Rett teased a stray strand of my golden hair away from my cheek with his other. He then traced my lower lip with his thumb. A tug and my mouth opened with a soft pop. Without instruction, I allowed his thumb to enter. Closing my lips, I sucked, tasting the saltiness of his oyster.
My eyes fluttered shut as a moan bubbled within me. It was as I opened my eyes that I saw it. Similar to a spark to dry kindling, what had previously been flickers in his eyes had combusted to a raging fire.
Rett removed his thumb, again tracing my lip. “Emma, the business deal is complete. Your little project is funded.”
His proximity and the way he was touching me had me distracted, but I knew what he was saying deserved my attention. “It is? You agreed to partner—”
He held my lips with the pressure of his finger, stopping my question and interrupting, “I didn’t agree to be a partner.”
My breasts heaved as he leaned closer, his rigid, toned body pressing me tighter against the wall. The pressure painfully stretched my upheld arms, while at the same time, Rett wordlessly informed me by the rock hardness of his erection that I was truly desired.
“I agreed to a deal,” he said definitively.
SIX
RETT’S DEEP VOICE had my full attention. “I was contacted a while ago, informed of your true identity.”
My head shook. “I’m who I am. Emma O’Brien is my identity.”
“You are correct. However, Miss North, you are more important than that. Your biological father was my father’s greatest adversary. They were each involved in the other’s demise. New Orleans is now mine, and who better to be at my side than the daughter of Isaiah Boudreau?”
Isaiah Boudreau.
I’d never heard that name.
My head shook. “I don’t know him or you.”
Again Rett traced my lips as his chest flattened my breasts, and his hips pushed closer. “Fight me, Emma. Tell me you don’t want me.”
I pulled against his grip, yet I didn’t have the strength to break it. The undeniable truth, evident by the warmth pooling between my thighs and dampening my panties, tightening my nipples, and making my breasts heavy with need was that I didn’t want to fight.
I wanted him too. Instead of replying, I asked, “Rett, what deal did you make?”
His stare bore into me, heating me from within. The tepid coolness of the air conditioning disappeared as the temperature rose.
“I traded the investment for something I desired more than a piece of an insignificant software program.”
This time I gave it effort, fighting his grip. “Our work is not insignificant.”
Rett’s grin returned, a bit more sinister than before. “Easy, tiger. Do not take offense. You see…” He was still holding my wrists. “…everything is insignificant in comparison.”
“What is this thing of great value that you want?”
“Who.” He leaned down, bringing his firm lips to mine.
I didn’t fight, not to get away.
Maybe I’d been drugged, or perhaps it was Everett Ramses who had me intoxicated. Whatever the case, in his presence, I wasn’t thinking straight. As his kiss deepened, the air filled with moans and whimpers.
Were they from me?
I pulled at his grip, wanting my hands free. I needed to touch him as his free hand was touching me, fingers splayed over my back, coming forward and caressing my breasts. Under my top, he tweaked my diamond-hard nipples as energy zapped from his touch to my twisting core.
Multitalented, he was competent in more than caresses as he held me captive. Simultaneously, his tongue teased the seam of my lips. I’d lost the will to protest, opening and welcoming his unique taste, like that of the wine.
Rett pulled away as I gasped for breath. His dark stare focused on mine. “Are you wet, Emma?”
His question seemed too personal, but then again, if I was, he was the cause. “Yes,” I panted.
Releasing my hands, he grinned, taking a step back. “Lift your skirt. I want to see for m
yself.”
I couldn’t move my gaze away from his even if I wanted it to. “Rett, please.”
His large hand reached for my chin. “Listen carefully, sweet Emma. The deal is done. You’re now mine. As mine, you will be pampered beyond your wildest imagination. The world is yours. I will lay the heads of your enemies at your feet and indulge your every desire. Your one task is to be mine, ready for me and willing to obey whatever I ask.”
My eyes opened wider and my breathing quickened as he continued.
Obey.
Who used words like that in today’s world?
“What…?”
“You will fall to your knees or spread your sexy legs when I command. You will submit to me when and where I want. That is nonnegotiable. And you will do whatever I demand willingly because when you do, you will be rewarded with earthshaking orgasms, the greatest of your life—because I promise that with me, you will come over and over.”
He was wrong. I wasn’t a multiple-orgasm woman. One and done.
“Rett—”
His finger upon my lips again stopped my words.
“There is one more nonnegotiable requirement: you will take my name, marry me.”
My skirt was in my grasp. With each of his declarations, I’d balled the material higher and higher until it was a soft roll above my waist, showing my black lace panties, bare legs, and high heels.
Rett took a step back, scanning the lace. “Touch yourself.”
Heat slid up my neck to my cheeks, no doubt bringing a glow of pink to my skin.
“Oh, my little Emma, now is not the time to be bashful. Did you not hear what I just said?”
Biting my lip, I nodded and peered about.
This dining room was private, but how private?
Before I could voice my concern, Rett continued, his deep voice commanding my attention. “My request is not the issue. It could have been for you to bend over the table, flatten your breasts, and bare your perfect round ass to me. No matter the request, what matters is your immediate obedience. Quite simply put, you will do as I say and be rewarded or hesitate and be punished. I’m not a man who repeats himself.”
One More Step Page 53
