Living in Secret: Living In..., Book 3

by Jackie Ashenden

  She always tried to be good, but now he needs her to be bad…

  Living In…, Book 3

  Lawyers Connor and Victoria Blake had a high-powered marriage to match their meteoric careers—until a secret from Victoria’s past came back to haunt her. A year after it all fell apart, Victoria is ready for a new job, a new town.

  Instead of signing the divorce papers, though, her husband has a tempting proposal—one week of no holds barred before moving on with their lives. She’s never stopped wanting him, but he’s always kept the deepest part of himself locked away.

  Connor already endured one brutal betrayal in his life, and Victoria’s cut him to the core. But during a naughty game of one-upmanship with a sexy stranger, he sees a different woman, whose warmth and passion he craves like a drug.

  In one week they expose dark passions that set them both free. But amidst searing desire that should fuse them together, Connor is coming to the brink of a decision to choose what’s more important. The last secret he’s holding inside, or the woman he can’t let go.

  Warning: Contains a man coming to terms with his inner darkness, a woman ready to match him kink for kink, secrets, lies, and a marriage getting its sexy back. Could take readers on a one-way ticket to WTF city.

  Living in Secret

  Jackie Ashenden

  Dedication

  This one’s for Christa, my amazing editor. For pushing me to do better with every book. You rock.

  Chapter One

  Connor Blake stepped out onto the tiny balcony that led off from the conference room and closed the double doors behind him. The sound of the Auckland Law Society’s Friday night after work drinks was cut off and replaced by the hum of city traffic.

  He paced over to the rail and leaned his elbows on it, gazing down at the street below and all the people hurrying home from work or wandering in groups, looking for places to eat or drink.

  God, he needed a cigarette.

  For some reason he was finding the usual drinks and networking thing difficult tonight and he had no idea why, especially when he was normally more than happy to grease the social and professional wheels for a couple of hours.

  Are you sure you don’t know why?

  Connor slowly clasped his hands together, shifting his weight.

  Maybe he knew. Maybe it had something to do with the papers still sitting on his desk at work. The divorce papers Victoria had sent him. They’d been sitting there a month and he still hadn’t signed them. And that he really didn’t understand.

  He and Victoria had been separated a year. There was no reason for him not to sign those papers. No reason at all. Yet still he hadn’t.

  Christ, why the hell had he given up smoking? Stupid idea. Especially now, when he could really murder a cigarette. But cigarettes were one of the vices he’d given up back before he’d started law school, along with a number of other…temptations. He didn’t do those things now, not anymore. In fact, there were many things he didn’t do anymore. His law firm—he, in particular—took on a lot of police prosecutions, and that involved setting a certain example. In fact, he was renowned for his spotless reputation, a reputation he cultivated as assiduously as a rose grower did prized flowers.

  However, avoiding temptation did nothing for the urge. The urge didn’t change. He only managed it. And only if he was very lucky, would the urge go away.

  So far, he hadn’t been lucky.

  He turned from the sight of the city streets, back to the double doors leading into the conference room, currently full of lawyers talking shop or comparing golf handicaps and the dreadful state of Auckland’s house prices.

  And froze.

  Through the glass of the doors, he saw a group of people move and shift like a school of fish, revealing a familiar figure. A woman in beautifully tailored black pants and jacket, a deep red blouse in dramatic counterpoint glowing against her olive skin. Her coal black hair was pulled back in a tight bun on the back of her head, glossy and smooth as a slick of oil.

  Victoria. His soon-to-be-ex-wife.

  Turn away.

  A gut punch of something hot and raw hit him, but he locked it down instantly, the way he’d been doing for so long he barely even registered it anymore. In fact it was odd that he was aware of it now, because even though he hadn’t seen her in the flesh for six months, he was perfectly fine with that. They’d both agreed it was better they stay away from each other, give each other some space and time to move on. And as far as he was concerned, that’s exactly what he was doing. What was done, was done, and he was moving forward with his life. Just as she was.

  Victoria was talking to Craig Matthew, a senior partner in one of Auckland’s biggest company law firms. Connor had only just finished speaking with the man himself, having to put up with some unwanted and unneeded advice about the prosecution he was currently dealing with—an eighteen-year-old charged with the murder of his father. Matthews had informed Connor that he’d been following the case with interest and had decided Connor and his team weren’t hungry enough and that Connor wasn’t asking the hard questions.

  A patently ridiculous conclusion. There was no one hungrier for justice than Connor and his team. And as for the hard questions, well, that was because he hadn’t even started asking yet.

  He realized his hands were in fists. He unclenched them.

  What the hell was Victoria doing here? She never came to the drinks, not these days.

  Turn away. Turn the hell away.

  But he couldn’t seem to bring himself to do so.

  She was smiling at Craig, her generous mouth full and red. She’d always been exquisitely beautiful and she still was. Except there was a certain spiky edge to her usual regal poise that hadn’t been there before, and she looked…tight. Tense. Like she was constantly bracing herself for a blow that never fell.

  Except it did fall. You remember that.

  Oh yes, he remembered. Coming home one day to find a letter sitting on the kitchen table. A letter from a girl who was apparently the daughter Victoria had given up for adoption when she was sixteen. A daughter he didn’t know she’d had.

  She’d claimed there had been cracks running through their marriage for years, that her daughter’s sudden appearance was only the final hammer blow to break them apart.

  But if there had been cracks he hadn’t been aware of them. He’d thought they were solid. And it wasn’t Jessica’s advent that had shattered them, but the fact Victoria had kept secrets from him. And rather than talk about it, she’d walked away.

  She’d been the one to go. She’d been the one to ask for a separation. And now, finally, she was the one who’d sent the divorce papers.

  The hot feeling in his gut twisted. Anger.

  He found himself reaching into his jacket for a packet of cigarettes that hadn’t been there for nearly twenty years.

  Jesus. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t angry with her, not now. Yes, he’d been furious when she refused to talk to him, when she’d wanted some time apart. But he’d agreed to the separation. Agreed to the distance she’d wanted. And it was behind him now. He was looking ahead as he always did.

  Turn away, you fool.

  She tilted her head as she talked, her strong, determined chin lifting. The expression on her face was all polite friendliness and professional interest. Contained and restrained. Doing her networking thing because she’d always been ambitious. The usual Victoria, in other words.

  As she had been when she’d thrown that half-assed bullshit at him about him wanting her to be perfect a
ll the time and how she could never live up to his impossible standards. Which was crazy. He’d never wanted perfect. He’d just wanted her because she was perfect already.

  “Until you found out I had a child. Now I’m not so perfect anymore, right?”

  “It’s not about the child, Victoria. It’s about the fact that you didn’t tell me.”

  “Oh so we’re going to have that discussion, are we? How about you tell me your secrets then, Connor? We can start with why you have a sword tattooed down the middle of your back.”

  Impasse. Because it was true he had his secrets, but they were the kind he told no one. The kind he protected people from. And they were going to stay that way. But an unexpected child was different. And most especially when she’d told Connor she didn’t want kids.

  Connor folded his arms and leaned back against the railings, consciously letting the tension in his shoulders and arms seep away. No, he wasn’t going to turn away. He’d look. He’d watch her because he felt nothing for her anymore.

  Nothing at all.

  Then Victoria turned and like she’d known he was there all along, her gaze met his through the glass.

  Dark eyes. Liquid black. Endless, fathomless.

  And that gut punch struck again, precise as a bullet, smashing through all the carefully constructed walls and barriers he’d built around himself and his appetites. Walls and barriers created to keep temptation at bay.

  Connor didn’t move. Didn’t look away.

  He was wrong. It wasn’t done. Because it was still there. That deep, intense hunger. That visceral pull. The one he’d fought and locked down since the moment he’d met her, keeping it in the box where he put all his baser, more primitive emotions. A survival skill he’d learned over twenty years and practiced until it became instinct.

  He didn’t know why it hit him so hard in this instant, why he was so aware of it now. But one thing he was sure of: he didn’t want it.

  Turn away.

  No, it was too late.

  She was coming toward him.

  Victoria knew Connor was there. Even as she talked with Craig, asking meaningless questions about the case he was working on. Questions she barely took in the answers to. Mainly because every ounce of her awareness was concentrated on the door that led out to the tiny balcony. And the man behind it.

  It had taken her at least ten minutes of walking around and chatting to people to realize he wasn’t in the room. Then as she’d got waylaid by Craig, she’d felt a familiar prickling sensation. A pressure. A steady, creeping heat making its way over her skin.

  Connor.

  She always felt that way when he looked at her, when his blue-laser stare focused unerringly on her. As if she was the only person on the entire planet. She used to think he only looked at her that way, that she was the lucky one. But he looked at a lot of things that way, as it turned out. Things he found interesting. Or annoying. Or puzzling. Not that it was easy to figure out which one of those things it was since Connor was the world’s most difficult man to read.

  Whatever, his stare always made her heart beat faster, made her mouth go dry, though she made sure she didn’t let that show. Because God, it made her angry. That even after what had happened between them, she still wanted him.

  But then she’d felt that way for a while now and that’s why all of this was so hard.

  She bore the stare a few moments before bracing herself and turning to look in his direction.

  And as usual she felt the impact of those intense eyes as a blow, echoing through her like the aftershocks of an earthquake.

  It never used to be like this. He’d always been a beautiful man but it was his reserve and his detachment that had been the main attraction for her. She didn’t want passion or chemistry, thunderbolts or lightning. A meeting of minds was infinitely preferable to a helpless meeting of bodies because she knew where that led and it was nowhere good.

  Connor had been safe. She admired his mind and his ambition, and that’s all she’d wanted.

  And then things had changed. And he wasn’t quite so safe anymore.

  Victoria swallowed, a shiver going right through her.

  He looked the same as he always did, his dark blue suit beautifully tailored and his red and blue silk tie perfectly straight. His white shirt was spotless, his black hair styled conservatively. The sharp, aristocratic lines of his face gave him a hawkish look, predatory in some lights, especially when he was in the courtroom.

  That had been when it all started, this hunger.

  She’d come into the public gallery on a whim, wanting to see her husband in action during a particularly tough domestic violence case.

  He’d been there, laying out his argument, and that’s when she’d seen it, his famous reserve and self-containment drop for a moment. When he’d paced back and forth in front of the jury, lean and dangerous as a hunting cat. Fixing each of the jurors with that focused stare as he spoke, his deep voice losing its usual cool, becoming hot, seductive.

  As she watched, the jury became mesmerized by him.

  And so did she.

  Now, with the intensity of his gaze on her, she had that same sense of being mesmerized. Like a snake in front of a snake charmer. There was something in his eyes that was different though. Something…

  No, God, she had to get it together. Remember what she came for. And if she kept looking at him any longer, she was going to give something away and there was no way in hell she was going to do that.

  With a supreme effort of will, she looked away from Connor and began finishing up her conversation with Craig. It didn’t take long. Then, allowing herself at least a minute to make sure her emotional armor was firmly in place, she began to head toward the balcony where Connor was standing.

  He wasn’t looking now and had turned around, his back to the glass doors. A tall, dark, broad-shouldered figure, his hands braced on the iron railings of the balcony.

  She let herself have a second to study him unobserved, because it had been six months after all and as much as she didn’t want to acknowledge it, the sight of him made her feel breathless. Made her heart beat fast. A dangerous indulgence…

  Victoria blinked. Took a steadying breath. Then pushed open the doors and stepped out onto the balcony, closing them behind her.

  Connor didn’t turn. “So,” he said, his voice cool and dark, and very calm. “I wondered what you were here for. I suppose it must be important if you’re willing to risk a face-to-face meeting.”

  She realized she was holding her briefcase in front of her like a shield. Damn. Forcing herself to drop it to her side, she replied in the same calm tone, “It is important. I sent you a couple of emails but—”

  “I’ve been busy.” Again his tone was cool.

  “You didn’t reply to my voicemails either.”

  Slowly, Connor turned around. He didn’t say anything, his cornflower gaze sweeping over her, impersonal and arrogant. As if he was a king and she was a supplicant begging for favors.

  By rights it should have made her furious and in a way it did. But not because she didn’t want him to look at her like that. It was because she did. Because it made her ache, made her breathless. And that’s what made her angry. God, she hated it.

  Only years of practice at hiding her emotions let her meet his gaze without even a flicker. She merely raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you’ve been too busy to listen to those too?”

  He leaned back, long fingers curled around the black iron railings. “This is about the divorce papers, isn’t it?”

  There was no point dancing around the subject. “It’s been a month, Connor.”

  “Like I said. I’m in the middle of an important case. I’ve been busy.”

  “And I need them signed. Since I couldn’t get through to you any other way, I thought a personal visit might speed things along.”


  “I didn’t realize there was a deadline.”

  She hadn’t told him of her plans. After all, why would she? They weren’t any of his business. Still, it was only polite he be aware of the fact she was planning on leaving the country.

  “And I didn’t realize it was going to take you a month to sign them.” She gripped the handle of her briefcase tighter. “I’ve had a job offer from a firm in London and I’d very much like to take it. In fact, I’m hoping to leave in a few weeks or so. Which means I’d like to have a few loose ends tied up before I go.”

  The look on his patrician features was impenetrable. “Loose ends such as an eighteen-year-old daughter and a divorce?” There was no emphasis in his voice, no discernable emotion. It was offered in the same, calm tone as he always used. The same as when she’d asked him for a separation and he’d replied “if it’s what you want”.

  “Yes.” She kept her expression as neutral as his. “Such as those.”

  “I see.” Another cold sweep of that impassive stare.

  A tense, familiar silence fell. One she remembered from those days before Jessica had sent her letter. Full of all the things Victoria couldn’t say, couldn’t give away. He never gave any sign he found these silences as difficult as she did, but then it was obvious he hadn’t experienced the same sexual epiphany about her that she’d had about him.

  They hadn’t shared a bed for three months before the separation and he hadn’t seemed to find this difficult in any way. And that hurt. Even though she’d been the one to pull away from him. She just hadn’t been able to stand the cold, almost perfunctory couplings that had been their sex life, not now she wanted him. It was a bizarre position to be in, to want one’s husband and yet not being able to stand his touch. Because he didn’t touch her like a woman he wanted, more as if she was a duty he had to perform.

  Well, he wasn’t going to have to perform that duty any longer.

  Victoria lifted her chin. “The papers, Connor. I need them signed before I leave.”

  And she wasn’t sure what it was, but she saw something flicker in his eyes. Something that wasn’t cold or impassive or detached. A spark. He stared at her, the spark slowly gathering heat. “And what if I don’t want to sign them?”