The Monte Carlo Shark: An International Legacies Romance

by Stevens, Camilla

  “I’m fine,” I assure him.

  There’s a pause before he responds. “I’m really sorry about all this, Sloane. If I’d known—”

  “It’s fine, Theo,” I say in as soothing a voice as possible.

  It flits through my mind that I would never have met Magnus Reinhardt if not for “all this” in the first place. I’m still conflicted as to whether that’s a good or a bad thing. On the one hand, my brain tells me I have no business being with a man who is so different from me. To the point of literal murder.

  On the other hand, Magnus has brought out tendencies in me I didn’t even know I possessed. The Sloane that goes back to New York will most definitely not be the same Sloane that left to come here.

  “I’ll be back home soon, and we can just return to normal.” For some reason, the thought disheartens me.

  “Yeah,” Theo says despondently. I suddenly remember that one of the parties involved is, in fact, dead. As much as I resented Linus Caldwell, I certainly never wished for his death.

  It’s just a reminder that I’m way in over my head. Maybe returning to the normalcy of New York is for the best.

  Isn’t it?

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Sloane

  The Art en Ciel.

  I have no idea what it is, but the other yachts in the marina are either out to sea or in the docks, filled with people celebrating and having fun. Obviously, Magnus is not the only one celebrating this evening.

  The air is balmy, and the night is alive around me. I can hear the excitement on the Mako before I even step foot out of the car to board the yacht.

  I haven’t seen Magnus all week. I have no idea what nefarious plotting he’s been up to. He’s left me out of the loop, presumably for my own good. Still, it’s surprising how much I missed him.

  Jan never got back to me after sending that message so, as expected, I’m left in limbo, wondering what’s happening on that end.

  This will be my first time seeing Magnus since that disastrous fumble in his office. The laughter and music should be enough to put me at ease. Instead, I can’t help but wonder how he could be enjoying himself so much. Has he already gotten over me and moved on?

  I’m in a black, sequined knee-length dress and black heels. Just for good measure, I’m in the diamond earrings Magnus “gifted” me. My hair is up, the way I suspect he prefers it.

  At the top of the ramp, a staff member has a tray of champagne. I grab a glass and sip if only to dull my emotions.

  As I wander ahead, I note that most of the attendees seem to be in their early twenties, enthusiastically enjoying the night of indulgence. They dance and drink and laugh and make out like the place is one big night club.

  Even though I’m still on the right side of thirty for this sort of thing, I feel completely out of place. If this is what Magnus is into maybe, I misread him the whole time.

  “Hey!”

  My ears perk up, for some reason knowing this shout out is for me. I turn to find a young woman who I quickly recognize as Magnus’s sister, Estelle. She looks a little tipsy but ecstatic as she approaches.

  “You’re Magnus’s…friend?” She gives me a suggestive look before laughing and, surprisingly, hugging me.

  I stare at her with wary eyes as she pulls back to look at me, still holding both my shoulders.

  Her face quickly transitions, and I worry she might actually start crying. “Whatever you said to him, thank you!”

  “You’re welcome,” I say with a smile, surprised I managed to have this much influence over the man. I guess she and Magnus kissed and made up sometime during this week.

  Speaking of which, where is the host of this damn party?

  “Do you know where—”

  “Estelle!”

  She turns at someone who has shouted over me. I see the man she was with at the White Party, Giorgio, waving her over to a group he’s with.

  “Oh, I’ve got to go. It’s so nice seeing you again, Sloane!”

  I try asking where Magnus is again, but it’s lost in the loud music and the distance she creates between us as she goes over to join him.

  “Looking for me?”

  The voice isn’t loud or threatening, but I still jump in surprise before turning around to face the man it’s attached to.

  “Magnus,” I manage.

  Seeing him after only just a week leaves me breathless. He’s casually dressed in a pair of black slacks, a white shirt unbuttoned at the top, and a black jacket. Even still, he’s just so damn imposing. Sexy. Dangerous.

  He stares down at me as though I’m a cup of cool water in the desert; like he’s gone days without drinking, and suddenly here I am.

  “Let’s go someplace quieter,” he offers.

  Before I can give an answer, he has my free hand in his and leads me inside. We walk up to a higher area of the boat, to a set of private stairs, where a large man who might as well be a bouncer in a nightclub stands at attention. Magnus guides me up the stairs beyond him.

  “I’m glad you decided to come, Sloane. I had this area reserved just for us.”

  It’s a small room right at the top of the boat. If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume it’s meant specifically for intimate little trysts like the one we’re having. The sofa faces a tiny outside deck. Artfully displayed on the table in front of it are a platter of oysters, a caviar bowl surrounded with the trimmings, sushi, and tempting little desserts of chocolates and bite-sized cakes and tarts. There is also an unopened bottle of champagne.

  I sip from my half-full glass to calm the sudden accelerated beating of my heart.

  The boat seems to move beneath us, and I jump in surprise.

  Magnus laughs in a low, amused tone. “We’re headed to a more advantageous view of the show.”

  I nod and take another sip of my champagne.

  “You’re unusually quiet tonight.”

  I swallow the sip in my mouth as I stare at him. A hundred questions seem to rotate like a merry-go-round in my head.

  “Why haven’t I seen you all week?”

  I know the answer, but I want to hear him say it.

  Instead, something in his gaze darkens, and he sets his glass down on the table. He pauses to stare at it before turning back to me with an answer.

  “I’m preparing to take care of Jan Vorster. I leave tomorrow.”

  “You mean…kill him.” It’s a statement, not a question.

  “Yes.” Magnus stares hard at me, those green eyes as sharp and hard as finely edged emeralds. I know he’s trying to read me, and for once, I can’t put up a facade.

  I think about the man who seemed to stare right into my soul with cold, dead eyes. He killed Linus. He killed Fabian, the man who worked for Magnus. If I hadn’t turned out to be somewhat valuable, he would have killed both Theo and me on the spot.

  “Good.”

  Some kind of light seems to flash in Magnus’s gaze, causing those emeralds to burst to life.

  “I knew you were my equal.”

  His gaze darkens again, and he reaches out to take the glass of champagne my hand is still wrapped around. After setting it down, he takes the hand and holds it in his.

  “Magnus, I—”

  “No, you don’t have to say it, I already know.”

  I stare at him without blinking—without breathing.

  His free hand comes up to cup my face. “Let’s just enjoy tonight. No expectations, no promises. I just want to be with you.”

  I smile against his palm. “I think that’s perfect.”

  He laughs softly, and lets go of my face. His eyes fall to the display before us.

  “You know, there’s a fine art to eating caviar properly. Most people aren’t familiar with it. It’s how purchasers know whether or not what they are buying is the finest quality.”

  I stare at him, feeling my excitement and anticipation build.

  Magnus reaches out to grab the tiny spoon in the heaping bowl of fine, dark caviar and scoops out a tin
y bit. With his eyes back on mine he turns my hand so that it’s sideways.

  “You place it right in the space between the thumb and index finger. That way, all you taste is the caviar…and skin.”

  I suck in air as he drops the dollop right in that sweet spot on my own hand.

  “Of course the brain isn’t used to using the hand as a utensil, so it doesn’t register the taste of skin. Just the caviar.”

  His eyes are still locked with mine as he lowers his head. His tongue slips out and slides into the crook of my hand, trailing across the sensitive skin, just before his entire mouth comes down to devour it.

  Just like a shark.

  The air in my lungs is finally expelled. Along with it go any inhibitions I had about being with this man.

  Magnus’s tongue continues to work around the tender stretch of skin on my hand, flicking and swirling like it’s the appetizer to the main course. When he pulls up, he slowly licks the bottom of his lip as though savoring the last drop of me.

  “Just as I thought, only the best quality.” A devilish grin appears on his face. “Your turn.”

  My heated libido has no trouble playing this game. I return a smile and reach out to scoop up a mound of caviar. I take his large hand in mine and drop it right on the web of skin between his thumb and finger.

  Now, I’m the one holding his gaze as I lower my head. My tongue slithers out to sample the first salty taste. I play with it, swirling it across his skin, scooping up just a tad to slip into my mouth. It continues, my tongue torturing him enough for a low growl to sound at the back of his throat.

  “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with your food?”

  “Who’s playing? I’m simply savoring the hunt.”

  “There’s a point at which the prize is no longer worth it. You’re ruining some very expensive caviar.”

  I chuckle and smile over his hand.

  “Very well, then.” The next moment, my lips open wide, and I surround his thick skin. My teeth graze it as I scrape the last of the caviar into my mouth. Tiny salty bubbles burst in my mouth like champagne.

  A sly grin appears on Magnus’s face. “Your skills are impressive.”

  “I didn’t think it required much talent to eat caviar.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “What shall we indulge in next?” I tease.

  He studies me, his grin broadening. “Take off your dress.”

  My brow rises ever so slightly. “Straight for the kill, I see.”

  “Do you want to keep hunting, or satisfy your hunger?”

  “You first. Clothes off.”

  Now, his brow rises.

  “Or are we not equals?” I say, provocatively hitching one eyebrow.

  Magnus laughs softly but removes his coat. Before it’s completely free, I hear a loud boom, and my attention is wrenched away to stare out the large picture window.

  “The fireworks. We’re missing the show.”

  “Leave it. There’s another next weekend. I want you now.”

  I turn back to him, with sudden panic about this next week. “Will you be back?”

  Magnus reads me like a book, and the same intensity he had in his office when he assured me Theo and I would be safe is on his face now. “Yes.”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise you, Sloane.”

  The words slip into me, warming my insides like a comfortable blanket, the kind that you can snuggle into to protect you on a dark and stormy night.

  The heat gradually begins to intensify, and suddenly that warm and cuddly feeling is replaced by white-hot fire.

  I rise to stand up in front of him. The fireworks continue behind me, and I see the bright flashes of color reflected on the surfaces behind him. Downstairs, the music still blasts, but the sound of laughter and cheering also wafts up to us in our private little enclave.

  My hand comes up to my side, reaching for the zipper to undo the dress. As I lower it, my eyes fall to his shirt, and I lift one brow as a hint.

  Magnus grins and begins unbuttoning his shirt. By the time he has it and his jacket off, my zipper has reached the end.

  I slip the single shoulder to my dress down my arm and let gravity slowly do the rest. I’m only wearing a pair of thong underwear underneath. As it falls down my body, Magnus rises up, already unbuttoning his fly. His pants and underwear fall to the floor at the same time as my dress.

  I admire how hard and thick his cock is, practically closing the distance between us.

  After stepping out of his clothes and shoes, Magnus sits back down on the couch. He reaches out to slide his hands up my thighs to my ass, his fingers slipping under the lacy fabric of my underwear. I smile down at him, my fingers raking through his hair as he drags them down my legs until I’m completely naked.

  When he lowers his head to bury his face in between my thighs, I sigh, and my head falls back. I arch my back to gently push him back, turning his body sideways as I do.

  “What are you doing?” He mumbles against my slit.

  “Being your equal,” I reply.

  Magnus chuckles when he realizes what I’m doing. Then he accommodates me by stretching his long body on the sofa. I grin down at him before I crawl on top, sitting right on his face.

  I savor the feel of his tongue and lips against my clit as the music thumps around us and the fireworks burst in the air outside. The excitement adds a delicious thrill to the pleasure coursing through my body. It’s only deviantly enhanced by the knowledge that just outside that window, about fifty people are gathered to watch the show in the air. All they’d have to do is turn around and look up, craning their neck a bit too….

  “Magnus!” I scream as the first orgasm hits me. My fingers dig into his chest if only to keep from falling off him.

  If he has any objection to my lack of reciprocity, he doesn’t voice it. In fact, his tongue only moves more rapidly, circling and flicking the tiny little nub.

  But I’m just as ravenous as he is, and his huge, hard dick is too tempting a treat. I lean forward and surround the head with my lips, sinking lower until I can’t take any more. He feels so thick and powerful in my mouth; it’s enough to get me off.

  The vibration of my throat as I moan with a second orgasm is enough to cause him to moan as well. The mix of sensations is wild, and being here on the Mako with most of Monte Carlo celebrating around us creates a buzz inside of me that turns to pure lightning.

  I work faster, rising and falling, snaking my tongue over every vein and swirling around the head as I rise. My hands crawl over his thick, corded thighs and find his balls to fondle.

  Magnus erupts into my mouth just as I have my third orgasm. We come together as the fireworks outside grow even more intense. I swallow every drop and don’t let go until I feel him start to lose his erection.

  When it’s over, I’m almost too weak to even roll off him. Magnus shifts in such a way that my body naturally slides off, and I end up cradled in his lap.

  I stare at him, suddenly feeling self-conscious but still excited about what happened.

  “I can’t believe we did that with so many people around.”

  “I can kick them off if it makes you feel better.”

  I laugh and shake my head, then turn to look outside. “No, they might as well have as much fun as we’ve just had.”

  “I doubt they are, but fair enough.”

  I laugh again, then turn back to look at him, getting serious as I drape my arm around his neck. “You have to come back, Magnus.”

  His hand comes up to cup my face. “If I ever needed a reason to, you’re it, Sloane.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Magnus

  I landed in Cape Town two days ago.

  Those first days were spent at the South African offices for Conniver Media, touring the facilities, and personally meeting with the heads of departments.

  I waited until the very last moment to have Sloane send Gabriel the message about my interest
in Conniver. Until then, most of the world suspected my money was going toward the purchase of a football team in Brussels, thanks to an article by the financial journalist Simon McCune.

  Now, I’m ready to make my kill shot.

  Literally.

  The moment I landed here, the news spread in the business world that I was looking to purchase a Rueben Bakker’s controlling interest in the corporation. Which bodes well for anyone who has recently purchased stock. The moment those papers are signed, the share price will skyrocket.

  Rueben was unable to meet with me himself, being that this is the week he’s hunting his Black Rhino.

  With one Jan Vorster.

  Now that all the pomp and circumstance is over, I’m in a hole-in-the-wall bar in a part of the city that is well off the tourist beaten path. The two things keeping me safe are my size, and the don’t-fuck-with-me look on my face.

  I gradually nurse the beer in front of me until the appropriate time. At exactly ten after ten, I get up to leave with the glass still half full. Finishing the beer wouldn’t be enough to dull my senses, but there’s no point in tempting fate.

  I walk about six blocks, my ears, eyes, and intuition all on high alert for anyone following me.

  The car is waiting on a side street. I stop at a building about ten feet away from it and pull out a brick to find the keys. Looking around once again, and finding no one, I get in the car.

  Even if someone was spying on me, the long drive that will take me well into the next day will be enough to drop the tail.

  * * *

  I’ve been hiking all morning with nothing but a canteen of water, a tracker, and the Big Horn Armory Model 89 lever-action rifle in 500, the same as Rueben is carrying. His gun has been conveniently fitted with a hidden tracking device by a member of the team that drove Jan and him in. All it took was ten thousand American dollars.

  It works well for my plans that Jan prefers to be the only guide leading a hunter to their game. I almost hope I’ve caught them before they managed to down the black rhino. There is something poetic about it.