by Vivien Sparx
“What do you want?” His voice was gentler now.
She did not answer immediately, but he could see that she was agitated, then she caught her breath and turned back to him. She spoke softly, her voice husky with shyness, so that he barely caught her words.
“One night of sex and passion. Nothing more.”
Lucien shook his head. “Do you realize how irrational you sound? Do you know what kind of a man I am?”
“I’ve heard stories…”
“Then why?”
“I have my reasons!” she snapped coldly.
Lucien smiled sardonically. “If you’re trying to be sultry and mysterious, you’ve left it a little late,” he said. “The time for mystery was before you propositioned me.” Even though his voice sounded gentled and placatory, Angelica shuddered. It was all turning out so badly; she did not want to be mocked, nor humiliated. Nor did she want this man’s sympathy.
Somewhere nearby in the night there was a sudden splash and then music and a drunken burst of laughter from one of the yachts, and it sounded to Angelica that even the laughter of strangers was directed at her.
She took a long aching breath, and without another word suddenly stepped quickly back towards the yacht club. Lucien caught her in three long strides, grabbing her stiffened shoulders, spinning her around into his arms. The top of her head was level with his shoulder and in the night light her hair glowed silken.
Lucien was shocked. It was the first time he had been so close to her; held her – recognized the warm smoothness of her skin and caught the scent of her perfume. The strength of his sudden physical desire for her struck him like a fist.
Now she was so close, her chin lifted, and her lips were soft and glossy, her eyes still flooded and bright with more tears. He knew he should walk away. Now, before it was too late…
Over Angelica’s shoulder, Lucien could see the partygoers gathering again in the doorway of the restaurant, heading back inside to the warmth and the light.
Lucien considered running the gauntlet of those people again and the likelihood of being ambushed by more handshakes and well-wishers was like a cold, damp dread. Then he looked down into Angelica’s tear-smeared face.
Lucien made up his mind in an instant, and before he could regret his decision he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her close against him.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Angelica looked up into his face, her expression a mask of shock and disbelief. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“But… but why?”
Lucien frowned grimly. “Because I’d rather take my chances with you than with that horde of jackals.”
* * *
Adjacent to the yacht club was a boat yard bordered by high mesh fences and padlocked gates.
Lucien led Angelica along the narrow paved promenade towards the carpark.
Beyond the high fences they could see work sheds and a fishing boat on the slipway, floodlit by arc lights that cast grotesque shadows across the basin.
In the carpark were assembled a dozen black limousines, and Lucien found his driver sitting on a park bench smoking contentedly and trying to read a newspaper in the gloomy light.
“To the hotel please, Edward.”
It was a forty-minute drive back into the city and Lucien slumped into the far corner of the soft leather seating, and stared thoughtfully out of the window as the limousine nosed its way into the traffic stream and then accelerated onto the freeway.
“I don’t know your name,” Lucien said suddenly, and Angelica was drawn from the depths of her own thoughts and stared at him.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your name?” Lucien asked.
“Angelica,” she reminded him. “Angelica Benson.”
Lucien frowned, and she noticed a little bird’s foot of creases in his furrowed brow above the compelling dark eyes.
“That won’t do. Too many bad memories,” he hinted vaguely. “Can I call you Angel?”
“Yes,” Angelica said. “Can I call you Lucifer?”
He stared into her face for long startled moments – and then suddenly he burst into a fit of unaffected laughter. It was a rich, natural sound, seeming to come from deep within his broad chest and Angelica marveled at the way his face changed. In an instant the frown and creases smoothed away – and even his eyes seemed to lighten and grow larger.
“Perfect!” he said. “What a perfect pair we would make. ‘The Angel and Lucifer’.”
Angelica found the sound of his laugh infectious and she began to giggle.
The miles slid away, the sound of the limousine’s engine a lulling purr, and when they hit the city Lucien leaned across the seat and pointed beyond Angelica’s window to a corner high-rise office block.
“One of my investments,” he said.
Suddenly he was very close to her; Angelica could feel the warmth of his body and smell the musky man-smell across the inches that separated them.
Angelica felt as though she might suffocate. Every breath became an effort. Having his body so close set her skin on fire and stretched every nerve to breaking point. She felt the muscles in her thighs begin to tremble as though she had run a long way. Her heartbeat began to race.
Lucien noticed it all, and he smiled silkily. He slid his hand across Angelica’s knee and rested it on her thigh.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Yes,” Angelica breathed the lie.
Lucien leaned closer still, brushing his shoulder against her. Sparks flew along the length of her arm. With his free hand he twisted a finger around a whorl of her blonde hair and then his mouth was against her ear, his warm breath caressing her throat.
“Liar,” he whispered.
Angelica recoiled from the sound of his voice. She turned to him and Lucien’s face was serious, the charm and seductive demeanor gone in an instant.
Then he took his hand from her leg, drawing it into a lingering caress by allowing his fingers to drift across her thigh and hip, an electric sensation that left Angelica shaken.
“You’re not that kind of girl,” he said simply.
Angelica felt her cheeks burn red with resentment. “Stop playing games with me,” she snapped. “And stop telling me what kind of girl I’m not. I’ve been told that enough. I don’t want to hear it any more.”
They stared at each other, city lights flickering past the tinted windows casting a ghostly glow over their expressions. Angelica sat rigid with her hands in her lap, her breathing ragged as she teetered between her anger and her bewildering sense of arousal.
The touch of his hand had been electric.
There was a long brittle silence before Lucien spoke again. “Then tell me why.”
“Why what?”
“Why?” he gestured. “Why would you want to spend the night with someone like me?”
“I have my reasons,” Angelica said.
Lucien shook his head. “Not good enough. You either tell me exactly what’s driven you to do this, or I’ll have Edward take you back to the yacht club.”
She stared at him, a silent plea in her expression but he was unmoved.
Lucien Lance was playing hardball.
Angelica moved restlessly in her seat, turning herself away from him defensively. Lucien sat watching her, seeing the way she held her lips pursed and the heaving tension in her breathing.
“Revenge,” Angelica said at last. “That’s why I want to do this. My boyfriend and I split up this afternoon and I’m angry. I spent hours crying, feeling sorry for myself, and then I decided I was going to find a man – a dangerous sexy man – and give myself to him for one night. I went to the function because I had been invited. I didn’t know who you were, but when I saw you I knew you were the one.”
Lucien felt the shock of her words leap along his nerves, drawing them tight. He leaned forward in the seat and stared at Angelica.
With a sense of foreboding, Lucien realized ther
e was more she had not told him and he waited while she bit her lip guiltily before turning in the seat to face him.
“I came home early from work today. I had errands to run, and I needed time to prepare for the function. When I walked in the door I found my boyfriend writing me a letter. It was a goodbye letter, and it wasn’t a nice one.”
“Did you see it coming? I mean, was your relationship in trouble?”
“I didn’t think so.”
“But he did?”
“Yes – apparently. He told me he had been thinking about leaving me for the last month, ever since he started having an affair.”
Lucien didn’t say anything. It was what he had been waiting for, he had known there was something else. He was beginning to understand the girl’s reasoning for revenge.
“It was another girl from our bank. Duncan is my boss at Guthrie and Jensen, and he had decided that I was no longer enough for him.”
“Duncan Charleton?”
“Yes,” Angelica said. “Do you know him?”
“I’ve heard the name,” Lucien muttered, suddenly thoughtful.
“He left me for this girl. She only started at the bank six weeks ago. When I came home today he confessed. It wasn’t in his note and he wasn’t going to tell me. But when I asked him why, and when I kept asking, he finally told me the truth.”
Lucien had heard enough. He pitied her then, for now he accepted the circumstances that had affected her behavior.
Angelica faltered for a moment, taken aback by the look of genuine sympathy in Lucien’s expression. She shuddered, turned away to look back out into the night, and when she turned back again there were tears in her eyes and her lips trembled as though she were unable to form words.
Lucien touched her cheek. “It’s okay.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s not.” And then she told him everything in a rush of words that spilled out, some of it drowned and incoherent with tears. “He told me he was leaving me because I wasn’t beautiful enough. He said that I wasn’t sexy and alluring. I didn’t arouse him the way this other woman does. He said I wasn’t as attractive as his new girl – and then he told me it wasn’t his fault at all. He said it was natural for him to be more attracted to her.”
Lucien brushed at her tears with his thumb, but now they fell like rain, and he took the handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her.
“He said I wasn’t sexual, and that I was bland. Then… then he said he needed a woman who was exciting and willing to try new things in bed.”
She slumped against Lucien, her whole body overtaken by racking heavy sobs. Lucien slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him and she curled up against the warm muscled strength of his chest and cried.
It lasted for a long time and when she was spent – when there were no more tears – Angelica eased herself back into the corner of the seat and dabbed ineffectually at her swollen red eyes.
“So now you know everything,” she said. “Do you despise me?” Her face was stricken, pale in the soft gloomy light, her voice muted and toneless.
Lucien reached out to her and cupped her face gently in his hands, gazing into her eyes so she could see the sincerity in his expression. “I don’t despise you at all,” he said softly. “I understand. I really do.”
She nodded and smiled, but it was a pathetic lop-sided little thing that made her lip quiver. “I thought if I could spend one night with a man – a man like you – then I could leave Duncan behind me with some of my self esteem and pride intact. I would know, even if no one else in the world knew, that I wasn’t all those horrible things he called me. That’s why I propositioned you tonight. I wanted to prove to myself that I could be sexy and alluring.”
* * *
The ‘Claricon’ was one of the exclusive hotels in the heart of the city, a high-rise edifice of gleaming glass and steel that combined modern architecture, mysteriously, with a sense of old world charm and splendorous elegance. The doorman crossed the sidewalk when he saw the limousine slowing at the curb to open Lucien’s door.
“A pleasure to see you again, Mr Lance, sir.”
Lucien climbed out of the back seat and turned, offering Angelica his hand and they waited until the vehicle had turned off into the hotel’s underground parking ramp before they crossed the sidewalk into the main foyer.
Angelica was taken aback by the sheer opulence of the décor. The floor was gleaming marble, the walls paneled in dark mahogany and decorated with gilt-framed paintings. The lighting was subdued and golden from crystal chandeliers, and plush antique chairs and sofas were arranged in cozy corners.
In the foyer, the doorman motioned to a clerk who was waiting by the desk.
“Good evening, Mr Lance. I hope you’ve had a pleasant night.”
Lucien nodded. He held Angelica’s hand tightly and guided her down carpeted halls towards the executive elevator, taking long confident strides so that Angelica had to totter along at a near run to keep pace.
A tall figure in a light grey suit rose from an armchair and greeted him by the elevator doors.
The man was balding, middle-aged, and there were puffy bruises of fatigue smudged under his eyes. There was a slim leather briefcase in his hand and he offered it to Lucien as he neared.
“Everything is here, sir,” the man said deferentially. “Contracts, credits, reports – the lot.”
“Thank you, Joseph.” Lucien said.
“Everything requiring your signature has been marked, and I’ve arranged for a courier to collect all documentation from your suite tomorrow morning.”
Lucien grunted his satisfaction. He took the briefcase and the elevator doors slid open before them.
Lucien and Angelica stepped into the elevator and a grey uniformed attendant smiled respectfully. He thumbed the button to the top floor and they rode up in silence. When the doors slid open again, Angelica stepped out into the plush carpeted foyer of the penthouse suite – and into another world.
Spanning the entire width of the building the penthouse was decorated with the same lavish opulence and the same attention to detail, as the ground floor lobby. The colors were golds and creams and rich chocolates, and everywhere Angelica looked there were the unmistakable signs of vast wealth and discreet, immaculate taste.
Inside the main doors, three steps led down to a sunken living area, lit by lamps that sat on elegant corner tables. The sofa and armchairs were all upholstered in soft brown leather.
Angelica wandered down the steps, her fingers brushing over the backrest of the sofa and trailing a line across the polished surface of the dining table. She bent over a crystal vase of fresh orchids, lost in the wonder of it all while Lucien set the briefcase on his desk and slipped the knot of his tie, unfastening the top button of his shirt and shrugged off his coat.
Lucien poured drinks and carried them through to where Angelica stood. A heavy bank of gold-trimmed curtains dominated the far wall of the room. At the touch of a switch the curtains slid silently apart, revealing a magnificent panoramic view of the city’s glittering skyline.
Angelica gazed in breathless awe.
Lucien gave her the drink and stood close beside her, admiring the night sky. She tinkled the ice in her glass and Lucien turned to face her. Angelica swallowed nervously, overcome with a sudden trembling sense of unreality.
“I’ll ask you this only once,” he said, staring into her widening eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this? Are you really sure this is what you want?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Lucien set his glass down on a side-table and stood close behind her. Angelica shivered with a voluptuous thrill, conscious of his hands as they grazed across her shoulders and then smoothed down the lengths of her arms. His touch was confident and assured, his fingers strong and skilled. He brought them back up to her shoulders and lightly massaged Angelica’s neck. She felt warm and melting and she groaned softly.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voi
ce a caress in her ear.
Angelica swallowed hard. She licked her dry lips and said softly, “I was wondering how it would feel if… if you kissed me.”
He turned her round to face him and she waited, her face lifted to his, her eyelids fluttering like the beat of butterfly wings. Her lips parted as though she were about to speak. They were soft and ripe, and then she touched them with the pink tip of her tongue, leaving them glistening and dewy. Her back arched, swaying her hips towards him, and Lucien drew his arms around her narrow waist and pulled her close.
He took her mouth with a ferocity and intensity that left her breathless and limp in his embrace. Her mouth was wet and soft, and his tongue probed deep with his hunger.
He tightened his grip, pulling her almost roughly against him. Angelica felt the magnificent hardness of him swelling between their crushed bodies and her own arousal welled up inside her, molten and simmering like fire between her trembling thighs.
The kiss was savage – demanding and dominating. It was a sensual assault and Angelica wound her arms around his neck and held on to Lucien with a desperate need unlike anything she had ever known before – never knew was possible.
She felt the world tilt, and still the kiss sustained until at last she could only cling to him, weak as a kitten, overwhelmed and overpowered.
When they broke apart Angelica was giddy breathless and the heat pouring from within was intense. She stared at him and Lucien saw something powerful shift behind her eyes.
“So…?” he raised an eyebrow. “How was that for you?”
Angelica softly traced the shape of her mouth with the tip of one finger as if to convince herself that what she felt was real. Her lips felt swollen and tender.
“Shattering,” she said huskily and her eyes were enormous. Her body felt alive in a way it never had before. Sparks of flame leapt from every part of her he had touched.
“Now kiss me back,” Lucien demanded, and there was a smoky look of desire in his eyes.
Angelica stood very still, pinned to the ground by his tone and his words. She felt real fear flutter in her chest so that when she finally came to him it was with a trance-like numbed obedience. Her eyes were wide and unblinking – drawn to him as a moth to the flame, unable and unwilling to resist.
