Desire: A Contemporary Romance Box Set

by R. R. Banks

  I opened the door to the guest room and stepped back to allow Ella to go inside first.

  “You did?” she asked, turning to me.

  I nodded.

  “When I realized that it was missing and my staff told me that they didn’t move it, I figured that she was the only other option. I went down to the concierge desk to get her information and called her to confront her. You should really let her know that there’s something wrong with her phone. It rang for a bit and then made this horrible screaming sound.”

  Ella muffled a laugh and looked down as if to compose herself before looking back at me.

  “There’s nothing wrong with her phone,” she said. “That’s the fake number that she gives to guys she isn’t interested in. I can’t believe that she gave it to the concierge, but she was pretty offended that he asked for her details before giving her the key, so maybe I’m not so surprised.”

  “Fake number?” I asked. I gave a slightly exasperated sigh. “Why is it that women do shit like that? If she’s not interested in the guys, why doesn’t she just buck up and tell them that she’s not interested? Why does she feel the need to string them along just so that they can call a number later and be embarrassed?”

  The laughter drained from Ella’s eyes and she shook her head.

  “I guess she never thought of it that way. The men just annoy her.”

  “Yeah, well, she should think about it. Being a liar is worse than being annoying.” She looked upset and I let out a breath. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I would just rather people be upfront, even when it’s uncomfortable.”

  She nodded.

  “No, you’re right.” Then her eyes narrowed, and her head tilted slightly. “Not that I actually believe that has ever happened to you.”

  I laughed.

  “I guess you’re right about that.”

  I heard the doorbell and glanced back toward the door, feeling disappointment in my chest that I was going to have to walk away from Ella even for a moment. I looked back at her.

  “Wait here,” I told her. “Sylvie should be with you in just a few minutes.”

  I walked out of the room and closed the door, starting toward the front of the apartment and the party I was dreading a little less now.

  Chapter Ten

  Ella

  What the hell just happened?

  Suddenly I had gone from potential felon to Mason Dupree’s date to his party and my mind was still spinning. I looked around the room where he had left me, not knowing who this Sylvie person he had mentioned was or why she would be coming, but fascinated by the opulence I was seeing in something so simple as a bedroom. I could tell immediately that this wasn’t Mason’s bedroom. Even in the expansive state that made it larger than the bedroom that Edmond and I shared and Molly’s bedroom combined, it didn’t seem massive enough to be his. It also had the subtle, indeterminate, somewhat generic femininity that was often the case with guest bedrooms.

  Now that the door was closed, I dared to take the few steps away from the spot where Mason had left me and look around. The bed against one wall seemed thick and plush, expertly made with bedding in a subtle cream and navy floral pattern. It reminded me of the display beds that always tempted me when I was in department stores, only far more expensive. For a moment I wondered if it was even real, or just a stack of foam and wood like those display beds often were. It was a strange thought, but I knew that Mason had no family and I had a hard time envisioning him having friends over for billionaire slumber parties. It seemed much more likely that this was a room that was already in the apartment and he decided that the only proper thing to do was to have a guest room.

  A window to either side of the bed caught my attention. I peered out of one of them and noticed that there was a fire escape that curved elegantly down the side of the building, masquerading as a simple spiral staircase so that none of the wealthy people who came this way would have to be confronted with the reality of anything so un-luxurious as a fire. I checked the lock on the window and realized it was just a simple thumb turn not unlike the locks on my window at home.

  I suppose 57 stories would be a really, really far way for a burglar to climb just to try to break into a window.

  I briefly considered opening the window and slipping off into the night, but I stopped myself. As easy as it might sound to just duck out of the window and scurry down a million flights of spiral stairs in my spike heels, I knew it wouldn’t actually fix the situation. If he really wanted to, Mason could find me, and I didn’t want to add insulting him to the reasons why he might want to bring the law down on me. Deep in my mind, though, I knew that that wasn’t the only reason that I couldn’t bring myself to escape. The attraction that I felt toward Mason was stronger now than it had been when I first met him, and I couldn’t seem to pull myself away from him. As big a part of me wanted to just put this behind me and go home, a bigger part of me wanted to disappear into the extravagance, just for a night, and explore what it felt like to be on the arm of a sexy, powerful man who looked at me with eyes that could make me melt.

  I walked over and touched the bedding. It was soft and cool, but with the distinct crispness that came from dry cleaning. I gave the bed a cautious press and immediately regretted it as my hand left an impression in the middle of what had been a perfect expanse of taut comforter. I was trying to figure out a way to remove the dip and prevent Mason from having yet another reason for remembering me for all the wrong reasons when I heard a sharp rap on the door and then it opened. I turned to see a tall, skeletally thin woman step in, pulling a rack of garment bags behind her. She had perfectly styled white hair that hung below her shoulder blades and hands that spoke to many years of living, but bright blue eyes sparkled youthfully from her face and her smile seemed to hold more energy than I had felt in recent recollection.

  “Hello,” she said, releasing the rack and coming over to shake my hand. “I’m Sylvie.”

  “Ella,” I said, accepting her hand.

  Sylvie smiled a little wider and went to close the door before turning back and looking at me, her eyes seeming to scrutinize every inch of me as they ran up and down my body. I had the compulsion to open my arms out to my sides and spin around, but I stayed still. I felt like she knew that I was wearing a stolen dress that cost more than my entire net worth even if you adjusted for inflation and gave me a raise for good behavior.

  “So, what are you looking for this evening?”

  My dignity?

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Better response.

  “Mason called me and said that you need a dress for this evening. He said that there was some kind of mishap with the one that you have and that he needed me to come by as soon as possible with some of my samples so we could find something that’s right for you to borrow for the party.”

  He called in a dress shop? Wait…did she just emphasize ‘borrow’? Is that a judgement on my character? Potentially a true one at this point, but still.

  “I’m really not sure what I should wear,” I admitted, deciding to let her commentary on my current contraband couture slide.

  Sylvie’s eyes sparkled like a little girl looking at a brand new doll.

  “I can help you with that,” she said. “Let’s just start with this one and we’ll see what you think, then we can go from there.”

  She reached for one of the garment bags and unzipped it before easing a hanger with a frothy pink dress out. She held it out to me. It was a touch too quincienera for my taste, but I was willing to go along with it. I removed the dress that I was wearing and laid it out across the foot of the bed, then let Sylvie help me step into the pink gown. As soon as I slipped my arms into the delicate straps I knew that it fit me perfectly. When I pointed that out to Sylvie, she got a knowing smile on her face and nodded.

  “Mason described you to me and told me exactly what size and shape you were so that I would be able to choose the dresses that were most likely to fit you and complem
ent your form.” She gave a short laugh as she turned me around to zip up the dress. “And he was right, as always. If there is one thing that you can rely on about Mason Dupree, it’s that he knows the female body well.”

  The comment put me off slightly. I was at once intrigued by it, interested in what she could mean, and uncomfortable, knowing exactly what she meant and not wanting to think about it. I already knew Mason’s reputation. Anyone who had ever heard his name knew his reputation. He left women scattered in his wake like used gum wrappers, and it didn’t seem like too much of a leap to assume that the ones that were seen with him at events or photographed coming out of his hotels or apartments, or those who made enough noise after he dropped them after one or two dates that they couldn’t be ignored, were only the beginning of the actual number he brought home with him. Men with power and money like he had learned quickly to be discreet.

  I wanted it to bother me that I had somehow become another one of those women, at least in terms of being his arm candy for the night, but it didn’t. Instead, I couldn’t stop thinking about the burning in his eyes when he looked at me and the heat that I felt between us even when we were just walking down the hallway beside one another. It felt like there was something more there, but I didn’t know what. For right then, I was satisfied that whatever it was, was enough to convince him not to make as much of a problem out of the frame…or the dress…that he could have, and to enjoy the chance to play dress up and have one night of living in a world that I would never inhabit.

  The fourth dress that I tried on was perfect. The deep emerald shade was unexpected but beautiful, and the cut was more demure than the red one, but still made me feel feminine and desirable. The strapless gown had a sweetheart neckline that cut just deeply enough to show off a hint of cleavage and a mermaid skirt that skimmed against my body before pooling at my feet and spreading around me. Sylvie handed me delicate lingerie that would make the dress lay even better and a pair of shoes that were so spectacular I was willing to be barely able to walk. I thanked her as she left, dragging the rack of gowns along with her. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, gliding silky thigh highs up my leg, when the door opened again.

  I looked up, expecting to see the bright-eyed woman coming back. Instead, I saw Mason.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mason

  The image of Ella sitting on the bed, her hands smoothing up her leg as she drew the thigh high into place stopped me still in my tracks. I felt my mouth water and hoped that she couldn’t see my cock harden in my pants. I wanted to close the door and lay her down on the bed right then, but I knew that I couldn’t. There were already guests gathering in the living room and I knew that more would be coming any minute. I had to be there to greet them and do my duty by smiling and pretending to be having a wonderful time with all of them. In that moment I knew that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on any of the conversations or even remember all of the names of the people who Aidan had invited. All night all I was going to be able to think about was Ella sitting there on the bed, plenty of delicious skin showing, but just enough concealed to give me something to explore and discover.

  I need to get out of here now.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just wanted to check on you and make sure that you found a dress. Um.” I looked over my shoulder toward the sound of raucous laughter that had just swelled up from the living room. “Whenever you’re ready, just come on out. I’ll be in the living room.”

  Ella nodded, and I noticed that the entrancing flush across her cheeks extended down to her chest, highlighting the swells of her breasts. I drew in a breath to bring myself under control and backed out of the room, closing the door behind me. I took a moment to put myself together and put a smile on my face, and then headed toward the living room and the growing group that was in there.

  Aidan was standing in the middle of the room when I got there and the panicked look in his eyes told me that he had gotten overwhelmed. He looked at me and rushed across the room.

  Good thing for him he’s a genius in publicity and organization because he’s shit at people-ing.

  “Mason,” Aidan hissed. “Where have you been? They’ve been asking for you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, brushing a piece of lint from the sleeve of my jacket. “I had to tend to my date.”

  “Your date?” he asked, still in the high-pitched hiss of a whisper. “What do you mean your date?”

  “Certainly you are familiar with a date,” I said. “A person you are attracted to who you bring to an event or an activity so that you can spend time together?”

  Aidan glared at me.

  “I am familiar with the concept.”

  News to me.

  “Then why the surprise? I am hosting a party in my home this evening. It would seem to be expected that I would invite a date to accompany me.”

  “I just hadn’t heard you mention that you were inviting a guest.”

  “It was a fairly recent development.”

  “Well, where is she?”

  He looked behind me as though he thought that I might be hiding her. His mouth opened like he was going to say something else, but I saw his eyes lock on something behind me and he stayed silent. I turned to see what he was looking at and saw Ella at the entrance to the room. She looked even more incredible than she had in the red dress, the green gown she had chosen was a perfect accentuation of her curvy body and lush, sultry beauty. I glanced back at Aidan just long enough to flash him a smile and then crossed the room toward Ella. I could hear guests whispering to each other as I went, questioning who this mysterious, gorgeous woman was, postulating which wealthy and powerful family she was from, and had to smile to myself.

  She’s a potentially criminal event coordinator with a crazy sister and probably not a cent to her name. Yet I want her more than anything.

  I reached out my hand toward Ella and she rested her fingers onto it. Guiding her hand toward my face, I kissed the back of it softly, then turned it and kissed the inside of her wrist where I smelled the faint hint of a lingering fragrance oil. Something musky with just enough sweetness flowing through it.

  “You look spectacular,” I murmured to her and then guided her down the three steps and into the sunken living room.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  She looked around at the guests milling around the space. I could see uncertainty in her eyes and I drew her closer to my side, looping an arm around her waist so that my hand rested on her hip.

  “Don’t be nervous,” I told her.

  “People are looking at me,” she whispered back.

  “Of course, they are,” I said. “You are the most desirable woman in the room right now. The women are furious that they didn’t spend more time getting themselves ready and the men want to know where I found you and if there are any extras around so that they can get their hands on one.”

  Ella gave a short laugh and I felt her relax slightly against me. I guided her toward Aidan, figuring that he was an easy person to start with for introductions.

  “Aidan,” I said, stopping in front of him. “This is Ella, my date for this evening.”

  As I said it I realized that I didn’t even know her last name and a flicker of guilt went through me.

  Well, this is bad form. Why didn’t I pay better attention to the name on the contact information for her sister? Suddenly I realized I did.

  “Ella Cowen, this is Aidan Smith, my personal assistant.”

  “Stanton,” Ella corrected.

  Shit. Is she married? Did I invite someone’s wife to be my date?

  Wouldn’t be the first time.

  But this felt different.

  “I’m sorry. Ella Stanton, this is Aidan Smith, my personal assistant. Aidan, this is Ella Stanton, my date for this evening.”

  I realized that I had clarified that she was my date several times. It felt strange wanting to say it so many times, as if I just really wanted everyone around me to know that she was ther
e with me. I was accustomed to having the sexiest and most beautiful women available on my arm anywhere I went, so accustomed to it that I could readily and without hesitation toss them away like I did my visitor and her bra that morning, but somehow this gave me a different feeling.

  “Hello, Mason.”

  A booming voice caused me to turn around and I saw Bankston walking toward me, his sour-faced girlfriend draped over his arm.

  Should I tell her about the miraculous recovery of her dress?

  “Hi, Bankston,” I said. “Mariah.”

  She looked at me and her lips gave a barely perceptible lift that I suppose qualified as a smile.

  “Who do we have here?” Bankston asked.

  The way that he was looking at Ella I wondered if he had seen her when she came to the building to decorate my apartment.

  I don’t give a fuck what he thinks.

  “This is Ella Stanton,” I said. “I met her recently through a friend.”

  Well, shit. Do I care?

  I noticed Ella give me a bit of a sideways glare, but then she offered Bankston a wide smile and held out her hand to shake his.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Ella, this is Bankston. He lives here at The Avalon and has been trying to outdo me at parties since the day I moved in. And this is his lovely girlfriend Mariah.”

  Bankston smiled, and Mariah gave a small nod in Ella’s direction before I gave Ella a subtle turn, guiding her further into the room. I had learned over the years that one of the best ways to ensure the success of a party was to keep it moving. No matter how well I knew the guests, I spent no more than a few moments with them at a time. It helped to prevent the awkward silences and big fake laughs that were so grating about these events.

  “You met me through a friend?” she asked quietly as we headed toward the player this party was supposed to honor.

  “It’s not really a lie,” I said. “I met you through your sister, who I hired through a friend. Besides, nobody needs to know our business.”