by Roxy Sloane
PROLOGUE
When was the last time you came?
Is someone there with you now -- touching you, teasing your stiff nipples, making you beg and moan? Are there hands on your body, sliding over your damp skin? A hard, thick cock driving deep inside you, relentless, until you think you’ll lose your mind?
Or are you alone?
The lights dimmed, your legs easing apart. Fingers, stroking lower. Your head falling back against the pillows.
What do you imagine when you close your eyes?
One lover, or many? A soft touch, or a punishing grip: fingers digging into your thighs, holding you down, fisting your hair in a tight knot as you part your lips in a silent cry of pleasure.
Do you picture people watching, their eyes roaming across your naked flesh as you pant for air? Or are you the one hidden in the shadows, watching someone else as they come undone?
You want it on your knees, his cock thrusting all the way into your wet, needy mouth. You want to be tied down, his mouth claiming you, his tongue licking deep against your tight, aching cunt.
You want pleasure. You want pain. You imagine it all, every time. A flash of images, your body rising to your touch. You play the scenes out, every detail, as that craving twists higher and your breath turns shallow and your skin aches for a release that’s close, closer...
Oh.
You felt it, didn’t you? But it wasn’t the touch that took you there, not just a simple, animal response. It was your imagination. Those secret, sensual fantasies, more private than anything you could say out loud.
More powerful than a hundred hard fucks.
Most other men don’t realize. They think sex is about friction and girth. They think surrender is a pair of handcuffs and a silk scarf. They don’t understand, a woman’s most powerful erogenous zone is her mind.
But I do.
I know your darkest desires. I see what you crave when he’s holding you at night.
I can show you a pleasure beyond reason, beyond your wildest fantasies.
All you have to do is accept my invitation.
Are you ready to play?
CHAPTER ONE
I step through the door to a cute little French bistro on the Upper East Side and scan the crowd.
“Can I help you?” The hostess asks, but I’ve already spotted my hot date for the morning.
“I’m good, thanks.”
I grin as I sneak up behind the table and whisper, “Hello, sexy.”
Keely jumps, then her face explodes in a huge smile. “Justine!” My best friend leaps up and pulls me into a big hug. “Oh my god, it’s been too long!”
Two months too long. Keely moved to New York from LA in the summer to take over her long-lost father's multi-million dollar company, and it's been hard not seeing her around the office every day. I’ve missed her.
She pulls away and I finally get a good look. She’s gorgeous, put together with a confidence that she never used to possess.
“Don't you look fantastic?” I tease. “All that hot sex agrees with you.”
The old Keely would have blushed, but this new, confident version just winks. “Don't you know it,” she shoots back with a grin.
A waiter rushes over with a menu, and we order enough food to feed an army. “And champagne mimosas too,” I insist. “This is a celebration.”
I turn back to Keely, and clock the glittering diamond on her ring finger for the first time.
“What the fuck?” I gasp. “Why didn’t you say something?”
She giggles. “I wanted to surprise you in person.”
“C’mon,” I order, beckoning. “Let me see that beast of a rock.” She holds out her hand and I whistle my appreciation.
“Vaughn knows what he’s doing,” I grin. “Treating my girl right.”
“I can’t believe I’m this happy,” Keely beams. “I keep expecting to wake up and find it’s all just a dream.”
“You deserve it,” I tell her warmly. “You had a crazy year, and this is the cherry on top. The sixteen carat fuck off cherry,” I add with a laugh.
“You’ll find someone too,” Keely says quickly.
I shrug. “I’m in no rush. After all, with you off the market, someone’s got to keep the men of New York City on their toes.”
“They won’t know what’s hit them,” she laughs, then sneezes.
“You OK?”
“It's just allergies.” Keely waves away my concern. “They’ve been acting up. I’m fine.” She searches through her purse for a tissue, so I dig one out of my massive leather work bag. My hand closes around something smooth and solid instead.
The gift I found waiting back at the apartment when I arrived last night.
Normally, I stay in fancy hotels on business trips. It’s my little indulgence – a way to make days of boring depositions go by quicker with room service and huge soaking tubs. But this trip was so last-minute, Keely offered me the use of one of her corporate rentals, a palatial suite on the Upper East Side of town.
“Did you tell anyone I was staying at the apartment?” I ask, trying to be casual.
“No. I don't think so.” Keely pauses, frowning. “Just Vaughn. And, Cam, too, of course. He dropped the door key off for me. Why? Was there a problem?”
“No problem,” I say quickly. “The place is amazing, thank you so much. I was just wondering…” I pause. “Wait a second. Who's Cam? Don't tell me you have a man on the side already,” I tease.
Keely laughs. “Not even close. Cameron McCullough, he’s my second-in-command at the company. Ooh,” she brightens, “Maybe I could set you up.”
“Is he hot? Rich? Single?” I ask.
“All of the above. But you'd eat him alive,” Keely laughs.
I wink, and reach for my champagne. “Maybe he'd like it.”
The food arrives, and we catch up on all the gossip she’s been missing.
“How's your mom doing?” Keely asks between bites.
“She's great. For her fiftieth birthday, I sent her off on a cruise to Alaska,” I laugh. “She came back with fifty million photos, and a standing Skype date with a certain bachelor in San Diego.”
“Good for her,” Keely grins.
“I’m just happy I get to pay her back, in some way,” I say. “She sacrificed so much to raise us on her own.” One of the best things about my job is getting to treat her like this. My dad took off when my younger sister and I were just kids, and I know how hard my mom worked to keep us all afloat.
“I've been meaning to thank you, by the way,” I change the subject. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here in New York right now.”
“What do you mean?” Keely looks puzzled.
“Carter is in jail right now because he tried to screw you out of your inheritance,” I explain. “It would have been years before I'd be given lead on a case on my own. But everyone’s so panicked, they put me on the first flight out. This could be my big break,” I add, feeling a surge of excitement. “If I prove I can handle this solo, who knows what else they’ll send my way? I could make partner before I’m thirty.”
“I’m sure you will. You deserve it,” Keely says loyally.
“I just hope I’m prepared.” I pause, feeling a flash of insecurity. “The opposition’s lawyers moved up the schedule. We were expecting them to keep delaying, but suddenly, they want to meet to discuss settlement.”
“What do you think they want?” Keely asks.
“Probably just scare tactics. I bet they heard about Carter, and think they can intimidate me.”
“Then they haven’t met you yet!”
“Amen to that,” I grin, toasting her. “To LA girls taking over the city!”
The morning speeds by, and soon Keely has to get to the office. I insist on picking up the check.
“It’s the least I can do,” I insist, passing the server my credit card before Keely can object.
“Then let me take you for drinks tonight,” Keely offers. “Vaughn is out
of town, and it will give us some time to really catch up. We can have a girls’ night out.”
“Perfect,” I grin. “Call me later?”
“Will do.”
Keely heads out, but I have a few minutes to spare, so I order a coffee and linger at the table. I should be going over my case notes one last time, but I can’t resist opening my purse to take out the gift I found at the apartment last night.
The box is about the size of a hardcover book. It’s wrapped in deep purple silk, tied with a gold silk ribbon.
I feel a shiver of excitement.
There’s an envelope tucked inside the ribbon. I slide the card out. Heavy cream paper with swirling calligraphy.
At first, I thought it was a little welcome gift from Keely. Then I opened it, and realized there was no way my best friend sent me this.
I open the card and read the words again.
Welcome to your wildest fantasy.
Are you ready to play?
My heart beats a little faster. I glance around, checking that nobody’s watching me. The people in the restaurant couldn’t care less about my secret invitation, but I still feel an illicit thrill.
I check both sides of the card, but there are no clues about the mysterious sender, so I turn my attention to the gift, nestling inside the paper-thin tissue.
It’s a key. But not like any key I’ve seen before. Old-fashioned, gold, with a delicate chain threaded through the intricate swirls. Inlaid in the gold are hundreds of tiny stones that sparkle in the sunlight.
It can’t be….
I surreptitiously drag the edge against the base of my glass. It leaves a scratch.
No way. These are real diamonds!
My heart races as I carefully place the key back in the box and slide it back into my purse. I can’t believe it. I don’t even want to think how much it’s worth, but it’s got to be more than any jewelry I’ve ever owned.
Who would send me an extravagant gift like that? And what does the invitation mean?
My phone sounds with a beep: the alarm I set earlier to make sure I stay on time. I quickly lay down some bills to cover the coffee and tip, then head back out onto the street. The noise and bustle hits me in a rush, and my excitement over the gift turns into a new surge of anticipation.
New York City, baby!
I can’t help but grin as I join the mass of people walking fast down the crowded sidewalk. Skyscrapers loom over me, and yellow cabs race past. There’s a buzz of energy in the September air that fills me with excitement.
You’re a long way from Chino…
My designer heels tap on the sidewalk as I stride ahead. If only those stuck-up girls from high school could see me now. I spent years busting my ass to get here: juggling two jobs to pay my way through college and law school, and pulling all-nighters to keep up my grades. I worked like a dog, but it’s all worthwhile now. Lead counsel on my first big case, and who knows what might happen if I prove myself and get that win.
I hail a passing cab. Justine Jenkins has arrived, and I’m ready for battle.
CHAPTER TWO
I arrive with time to spare and take a moment to get my bearings. My opponents on the case have their office in a classy brownstone on a quiet tree-lined street that just screams ‘money.’ I climb the steps and reach for the buzzer, but there is none: just a discreet brass plaque on the door. Venture LLP.
The whole building belongs to them? OK then.
I push the door open and step into the lobby. It’s a bright, sun-drenched area with bare wooden floors and bold abstract art on the walls. Striking, modern. There’s a hush of concentration, and everywhere I look, I see designer furniture and important-looking people in designer suits. Part of my job is reading the opposition, and everything about this place says they have deep pockets, and aren’t afraid to show off.
My nerves bubble up, but I push them down. Nobody here knows this is my first time flying solo, I remind myself. For all they know, I’m a hot-shot attorney who eats the other side for breakfast.
I walk boldly up to the receptionist, who’s lounging behind a solid marble desk, looking like an art exhibit with impeccable cheekbones.
“Hi,” I say with a smile. “Justine Jenkins, here for the VideoMine meeting.”
Without a word, she rises to her feet and walks down the hallway away from me. I pause, thrown, then realize she’s waiting by the elevators for me to follow.
I quickly catch up. “I love your shoes,” I say, as she stabs the elevator button. The door closes. Silence.
Is it me, or is it cold in here?
She leads me down another hallway, to a plush seating area. My client, Adam Granger, is waiting, bouncing his knee with nerves.
A look of pure relief flashes across his face. He leaps up. “You’re here!”
“Hey,” I greet him with a warm smile. “You look good. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen you out of those hoodies and jeans,” I tease, trying to put him at ease. He’s still wearing his trademark geeky T-shirt, but he’s scrubbed up for the meeting since I saw him last in LA. Now he’s clean-shaven with his blonde hair buzzed close to his head, and a hip pair of square-rimmed glasses. Much closer to how he probably looked as an undergrad at Stanford.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’ll be handling the case, not Carter the Jackass,” he says.
My former boss didn’t exactly make many friends.
“I know you must be nervous, but I know this case inside out,” I reassure him.
“There’s something else. This showed up at my hotel this morning,” he says, pulling out an envelope from his satchel. “What does it mean?”
I scan the papers. A cease and desist letter and summons for a lawsuit, demanding Adam drop his case.
“They're just trying to intimidate you. Don't worry. These are normal scare tactics,” I explain.
“But they say I could be liable for a nuisance lawsuit,” Adam looks terrified. “I can’t afford to pay that kind of money.”
“They know it, that’s why they filed. Look, this is a big case with a lot riding on it, so we shouldn’t be surprised if they play dirty.”
‘A lot’ is an understatement. Adam invented a computer application called VideoMine. I’m not really into technology, but basically it’s a new YouTube that could revolutionize the internet – and make its inventors overnight billionaires. Adam developed it with his college roommate, Kellan. Which is where it gets messy. Six months ago, they had a huge fight about the future of the company. Kellan walked out with his laptop and the backup drives with the half-finished code, and went straight to the nearest venture capital firm to get funding for what he claims is his idea.
Now, Adam is suing Kellan and the company for intellectual property theft. I’m determined to win him credit for all his hard work—and a fat share of the profits once the app launches.
“I just want what’s rightfully mine.” Adam twitches nervously again. “I spent two years working on that program, and now Kellan’s acting like he’s the mastermind who came up with the whole thing.”
“Don’t worry,” I calm him. “They know we have a strong case. That’s why they’re resorting to bullying tactics.”
“There's something else.” Adam frowns, looking around. He lowers his head so the receptionist can’t listen in. “I overheard two guys in the bathroom talking. Venture's CEO has flown in just for this meeting.”
“You mean the silent partner?” I ask, surprised. I’ve been researching Venture for months, but I still don't know who’s backing Kellan. The only evidence we have that this silent partner even exists is an unreadable signature on a few documents the courts made Venture turn over to us.
Looks like the ghost is coming out of hiding.
Finally, another thin, perfectly polished assistant appears and leads us down the hall and into the boardroom. If the décor in the lobby was meant to impress, everything about this room is designed to intimidate. The walls are painted a dark, crimson r
ed, the conference table is chrome and glass, and there’s a bank of windows facing us with a stunning view of Central park. The clouds shift outside, sending a ray of sun shining right into my eyes. I blink, dazzled.
“Welcome. Please take your seats.”
My eyes adjust, and I realize that the other side of the conference table is completely full. A row of six frowning attorneys flank a smug-looking guy I recognize as Kellan, Adam’s old partner.
The seat at the head of the table is empty. When I look around, I see a man by the windows. He’s tall and broad-shouldered with dark hair, his back facing the room as he stares out at the view.
That must be the silent partner.
I decide offense is the best defense. “Good morning, everyone,” I say, striding forward. I take the empty seat at the head of the table and look around. “My name is Justine Jenkins, and I'm representing Adam Granger. Shall we get started?”
There’s a pause, and I can tell from the surprised looks that I’ve shocked them.
Good.
I look around. Kellan is still lounging with a conceited smirk on his face, looking every inch the Californian pretty boy. The other guys at the table are all WASPs in expensive suits.
I blink. “Greyson,” I say coolly, recognizing one of the lawyers across from me.
He sneers back. Charming as ever. He was a few years ahead of me at Stanford Law, and rumor had it his parents bought his acceptance letter with a healthy donation to the alumni fund. Guess he landed on his feet.
I pull out my case files and give them all a big smile to show them I’m not intimidated. “Shall we start?” I repeat.
The answer comes from the man at the window.
“Of course, Ms. Jenkins. Let’s get down to business.”
Chills roll down my spine. I catch my breath, feeling a sick twist in my stomach.
No. It can’t be.
I know that voice.
The deep tone. The crisp British accent. But I don’t believe it's true, not until he turns around and I see his gorgeous face—the face that’s haunted my dreams for the last three years.
Ashton Pierce.
