The Monte Carlo Shark: An International Legacies Romance

by Stevens, Camilla

  “If you think I won’t end you, you’re sorely mistaken. Don’t think your gender or any hint of attraction I feel toward you will stop me.”

  Despite myself, a thrill of pleasure flows through me.

  I should tell him. Besides, I’ve already learned what I need to for the man in New York. It was practically laid out before me tonight.

  I blink.

  It was all too easily laid out for me. Even the journalist was practically force-fed a story to report on. If I give the man in New York false information, he’ll kill both Theo and me as sure as night takes over the day.

  But will Magnus?

  He expects me to talk, especially after what I overheard last night. Tonight’s bluff of a dinner was just a precursor to this moment.

  But I can bluff too. It’s the only way I’ve stayed ahead of the game this far.

  “Go ahead,” I whisper underneath the press of his thick thumb.

  Magnus’s eyes sharpen in surprise, then flash in anger. Neptune himself couldn’t match the storm that brews there.

  Then, he squeezes tighter…

  Part II

  The Predator

  Chapter Thirty

  Magnus

  Sloane’s pulse quickens underneath my fingers.

  Something about it has me strangely excited in a depraved way. The reluctant part of me knows it’s because she’s once again surprised me.

  She has no reason to hold back the truth any longer. And yet she persists, even under the threat of death. I squeeze tighter, and her eyes falter just enough to demolish my willpower.

  I let go, and Sloane gasps for breath. I’m not about to let her off that easily. Grabbing her wrist, hard enough to snap it if I so choose to, I practically drag her back inside.

  I’m not stupid enough to dump her on one of the couches in the large seating area to properly interrogate her. My crew are professional enough to know that I demand privacy, but they are only human. I don’t need any casual witnesses to what I’m about to do to Sloane.

  She stumbles after me down one of the hallways into the master bedroom. I swing her inside and slam the door behind us, making sure to lock it. From there, I drag her to the bed and throw her onto it.

  Sloane stares up at me as angry as a wet cat. When I proceed to take off my jacket and loosen my tie, it rapidly transforms into fear. She scrambles across the massive bed, pressing herself into the headboard.

  A wicked grin comes to my face as I loosen the cuffs of my sleeves.

  Now, the look in Sloane’s eyes is pure venom. She thinks she knows what’s about to happen, and she plans on fighting me tooth and nail. It’s only when I take a seat in one of the armchairs that she relaxes, eyes still trained on me like a wary rabbit.

  “Tell me everything,” I say in a voice that dares her to defy me.

  Panic touches her eyes, just long enough for me to catch. It’s replaced by a cool confusion, so manufactured I almost laugh.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I debate telling her what I know about her brother and Jan, then think better of it. No need to show my hand. After all, what she holds back is just as important as what she decides to reveal.

  “Tell me what really brought you to Monte Carlo. Tell me why you were down near the marina looking at my boat that morning. Tell me what it is you’re looking to get from me. Most importantly, tell me why.”

  She considers me for a long moment, sitting up straighter against the headboard. “I already told you most of that. I was here on vacation. Running into you was fortuitous. I took advantage of the moment. Isn’t the hefty retainer you left with my firm in New York enough to convince you? It would be incentive enough for anyone.”

  I shoot out of the chair and storm toward her. The panic is back in her eyes as she watches me. Standing back at the head of the bed, I stare at her, my arms crossed over my large chest.

  “Are you sure that’s the game you want to play with me, Sloane?”

  “I don’t know what game you suspect me of playing, Magnus,” She responds in a measured tone, her wide eyes narrowing into slits.

  “Very well, then.” I quickly unbutton my shirt and rip it off, flinging it somewhere behind me.

  Now her eyes are wide once again. When I reach out and grab her ankle, dragging her across the bed back down to me, they are practically bulging. The effort has her dress sliding up her legs until they come to a rest just above her thighs, showing off the barest hint of something black and lacy.

  Sloane wriggles on the bed, both to escape me and try to return her dress to a decent length.

  “Don’t even bother,” I growl as I take hold of both her knees, dragging her closer even as I spread them wide enough for me to stand between them.

  “Magnus, this is crazy,” she seethes.

  “Being lied to does that to me,” I say as I lean over her. I take both hands that are still struggling to drag her skirt back down and force them up as far as my long arms will reach.

  If she knew how turned on I am watching and feeling her struggle underneath me, she would go as dead as a fish floating in the water. Instead, she’s like one that’s freshly caught, bucking and flailing as much as I’ll allow, struggling for that last bit of life.

  Which makes this catch so much sweeter.

  This was only meant to scare her into speaking. Now, I feel another desire coming on, something that supersedes wanting the truth.

  When Sloane feels the effect of her struggle press into her thigh, she goes still. She stares up at me, as though she’s now trying to read me for the truth.

  “Is this how you respond when you don’t get the answer you like? Would it be better for me to make something up to satisfy whatever narrative is going on in your head?”

  “Try me and see,” I reply, pressing my hard dick into her thigh even more.

  A sly smile curls her lips, but I see the effect I’m having on her. The dilated pupils and hard nipples stretching the fabric of her dress, which rises and falls with heavy breaths, tells me she isn’t as opposed to this game as she would have me believe.

  “Insider trading.”

  My brow lowers in consternation.

  “Why take you on as a client when I can just find out what you’re up to and trade on it?”

  Now, I’m the one with the sly smile. “Nice try, Sloane. We both know you’re far too ethical to even contemplate such a thing.”

  Her eyes flash with defiance. “Maybe I’m done being good. Like you said, it hasn’t paid off yet. Why not try being bad? Maybe that’s the reason I’m here in the vice capital of the world? All the better to get a taste of it.”

  “For the woman who doesn’t even gamble?” I say, pushing her arms together so I can hold both wrists above her head with one hand. I drag the other down her arm, slithering down to her neck, where I take hold of it again.

  “For the woman who wouldn’t even contemplate representing someone for murder?” I squeeze lightly. “Let alone commit it?”

  Her eyes remain defiant, even as my palm presses into her throat. Her pulse is viciously rapid under my thumb.

  God, this woman!

  Any other would be back to struggling again, telling me anything to escape this near-death position. Sloane seems to be encouraging it, as though she suspects she can push me past the edge of murder and straight to lust. As if to prove my suspicions, the thigh currently falling victim to my erection presses against it, sending the blood surging there.

  “Is that what you want, Magnus? To kill me?” Her voice practically purrs as though she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

  I should kill her just for daring me in this way. A part of me even wonders if being Gabriel’s little operative is not entirely against her will.

  “Oh, Sloane, don’t you remember anything from how the mako hunts?” I lean down so that she can feel my hot breath against her face. “This is just the first bite.”

  Something in her eyes glimmers with excitem
ent, challenging me even as I hold her neck. Her back arches slightly and her body snakes beneath me, just like bait being dangled before me.

  “What are you waiting for then?”

  “So be it,” I growl.

  With that, I release her neck and rake my fingers down until they hook into the top of her dress. In one fierce move, I drag it down the front, ripping the fabric enough to expose her all the way to the top of that black lacy thing hiding the tastiest part of her.

  And I’m suddenly ravenous.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sloane

  Anyone who says danger isn’t an aphrodisiac, especially when it comes in the form of one Magnus Reinhardt, is a damn liar.

  Still, I gasp in shock.

  The slinky, torn fabric of the dress pools at my sides, leaving me completely naked save for the skirts puddled around my hips and the thong underwear underneath. My hands forced above my head and my legs pried apart by his massive body have me feeling even more vulnerable. The strappy heels still on my feet somehow make this seem more salacious.

  I pushed Magnus past the point of threatening me and right into action. I can still feel the phantom pressure of his large hand surrounding my neck. The near-death experience only has the effect of heating my body in a way that belies any damn biological imperative to stay alive.

  The look in his eyes is pure danger.

  When his hand comes up to cup one bare breast, I involuntarily moan with pleasure.

  “You’re not the only one full of surprises, Sloane. Keep lying to me. If I can’t choke the truth out of you, maybe I can fuck it out.”

  A wild rush of heat seizes me, reaching even the deepest, darkest parts of my mind. A soft mewl vibrates in the back of my throat.

  Dammit!

  I would expect my body to betray me. Isn’t that human nature? The cavemen who succeeded in continuing the species were the ones strong enough to drag a woman by her hair and force her to his will.

  But my brain has always been rational, always worked to my best advantage. It’s the last part of me that I would expect to turn Benedict Arnold on my ass. Yet here I am, already imagining what that massive bulge pressing into my thigh would feel like, plunging right into me and fucking me senseless.

  The worst part is, somewhere in there, where the last tiny beacon of rationality stays lit, I know I should be focused on the fact that Magnus at least suspects my ulterior motives. Does he know about Theo? What about the man in New York who sent me here?

  That tiny beacon flickers and dies when Magnus lowers his head so that his mouth rests against my neck, just above my pulse.

  “Tell me, Sloane, should I bite and put an end to this? Or are you going to finally tell me the truth.”

  Just keep him interested and he’s yours.

  Scheherazade would never give in too easily. I’ve got him hooked; I just have to keep him guessing.

  “You bite me, and you’ll never get the truth.”

  The teeth grazing across the thin skin of my neck come to a stop. Magnus rises up high enough to stare down at me.

  “So you admit everything you’ve said so far is a lie?”

  I dare him with my eyes. “Is it?”

  “Keep pushing me, and you’ll find out just what I’m capable of, Sloane.”

  He’s almost rabid with anger. Any other man would unleash it right away, but Magnus is far too much of a control freak for that.

  Which gives me plenty to work with.

  He’ll never get the truth out of me, not this easily, and certainly not when I have thirty-eight more days to work with.

  Magnus’s eyes narrow with anger. “Fine then, let’s play.”

  The hand on my breast disappears underneath the pile of fabric gathered at my waist. His fingers find the thin strip of lacy fabric and hook inside. Just as he so easily ripped my dress open, he rips my thong underwear, leaving it nothing but a useless rag covering absolutely nothing.

  Those same fingers waste no time plunging into my pussy, which is wet enough to have Magnus chuckling in my ear.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this is the game you’ve been itching to play all night.”

  “Bastard,” I hiss. It turns into a moan as he works his fingers in and out, spreading and curling them so that he strokes just the right parts of me.

  My body once again defies me, reacting against my will. When his thumb comes out to stroke my clit, my mouth steps right up to the plate to start swinging for the stands in this game of ours.

  “Magnus!”

  “It’s too late to stop now, Sloane. You started this, and now you’re going to finish it.”

  Even if I begged him to stop, he wouldn’t. Something depraved and twisted inside of me delights in that thought.

  When his fingers vacate my pussy, my body arches with longing for something to replace them.

  Not just something…his something.

  I both feel and hear him undoing his fly. My eyes roll down to watch the action unfold. When he finally releases his dick—it’s just as impressive as my body told me it would be—my teeth gnash together, making me feel like a lioness savoring the kill.

  But who is the predator here?

  As though to answer the question for me, Magnus’s eyes capture mine, holding them hostage as he gives his final warning.

  “I hope you’re on birth control because I’m not going to stop for a fucking condom. In fact, a part of me almost hopes you aren’t. I can’t imagine a more worthy woman to take my seed—a more worthy woman to carry my child.”

  Of course I’m on birth control. As though Sloane Alexander wouldn’t be doubly prepared for any and every circumstance.

  But that was the old Sloane, the one who took every precaution. The new one is feral and reckless enough to want to carry Magnus’ child, knowing that would forever tie me to this ruthless shark.

  Scheherazade is slipping.

  I’m supposed to be the one pulling the puppet strings here, not succumbing to the same base desire Magnus is falling into.

  When I feel the fat head of his cock stroke my opening, hinting at the invasion that’s to come, I know he’s in command. Even if his control is as overcome with desire and need as I am, there’s no way I can spin a tale good enough to keep him from completely destroying me right now.

  And hell if I don’t welcome it.

  When he enters me, diving as far as my body will allow, almost to the point of pain, I buck my hips up, accepting every part of him.

  “Yes,” he growls in my ear, claiming his victory over me.

  Magnus lets go of my wrists, but it no longer matters. As he works his hips, fucking me harder and better than I’ve ever been fucked before, I know he’s the one spinning my tale for me. My sore wrists function just enough to allow my hands to cling to his bare back, fingers clawing their way across his skin.

  I’m sure I’ve drawn blood, but it only seems to encourage Magnus to screw me that much harder.

  “You think you can invade my world and proclaim yourself queen? I’m not that easy Sloane. I’ll ruin you, destroy you.”

  If he’s trying to scare me away, he’s going about it all wrong.

  “So do it,” I say, smiling up at him.

  Scheherazade is back in full force.

  Lara was only half right. Sex is too easy. That doesn’t mean I can’t use it as a tool to get my story across. Magnus doesn’t have the full truth yet.

  The first flicker of doubt hits me as he matches my smile with a grin, so sinister and taunting, I sense the trap before it snaps closed on me.

  Magnus shifts so that something inside of me is hit in just the right way.

  “Magnus!” I cry in surprise, overcome with pleasure.

  The wave that was rapidly building now moves at supersonic speed, crashing with enough power to make me feel like my body is breaking into a thousand pieces.

  I scream out louder than ever, burning with humiliation at the knowledge that the entire staff of the
boat can probably hear how easily I fell victim to their boss.

  Even as I come, Magnus’s eyes never allow mine release. He relishes this degrading state he’s left me in.

  I’m left nothing but a limp rag doll as that gaze hardens along with every one of his muscles just before he releases into me. I feel the unchecked warmth invade me, penetrating that part of me that nature intended.

  A deviant thrill shocks my system one last time, wondering if modern technology will be enough to fight Mother Nature.

  Magnus slides out of me, leaving a trail of his seed in his wake.

  I lay there in nothing but shreds of a dress and underwear, cum oozing from between my thighs, muscles sore from being used to so harshly.

  Even now, as disgusted and ashamed as I am with what happened, I feel that lingering swell of pleasure cling to my nerves and the primitive parts of my brain.

  I’m too weak to try and wriggle my way from beneath Magnus.

  That idea is moot since I feel his body harden once again, as though what just happened was no more exhausting than using a remote control to turn on the TV.

  His hand slowly drags across my body as though it’s his property. Fingers trace a line up my thigh, flick across my still swollen clit, causing me to spasm with pleasure, palm flat across my stomach, stopping to cup my breast one last time. He lands back at my neck again, stopping to claim it.

  He squeezes just enough to keep me in place, in case I had any ideas of escaping.

  When he speaks, the fear that I should have been warned about when this whole thing started now comes sizzling to life.

  “I already know everything, Sloane.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Magnus

  My body is still in a frenzy, recovering from how overwhelmed Sloane had me.

  Almost to the point of losing control.

  No woman has ever come that close.