by Lynda Chance
She breathed deeply, trying to steady the blood that pumped rapidly through her veins, and held him to her as he fell against her.
Their hearts banged together in tandem, and slowly, Marco raised himself and held himself over her, looking down at her. Natalie didn’t know what she expected him to say as she studied the intensity in his gaze. Maybe an apology, maybe instructions of some kind to take care of what they’d allowed to happen. But what he said was nothing like she was imagining. “Mother-fucker, that was good. Unbelievably, fucking good. I want it like that, always.”
She swallowed hard. “Too dangerous,” she said.
“How so? We trust each other.”
“I’ll get pregnant, Marco.” She tried not to make it sound as if she were explaining something to a four-year-old.
“Get on the pill.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah, just like that.”
“I can’t yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because—because now I might be pregnant. I’ll have to wait until I get my period. Unless you want me to take something now, a plan B?”
“Plan B?”
“Morning-after pill.”
A shadow crossed his face. “Isn’t that tantamount to an abortion?”
“Not exactly. Maybe, I don’t know.”
His countenance darkened. “I don’t care for that idea, Natalie.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding. “Me, either.”
“So, we’ll wait and see. After you get your period, you’ll see a doctor and get on contraceptives?”
Natalie studied him as he carefully disengaged and began straightening his clothing. She couldn’t help but notice he didn’t say either the word pregnant or baby. He avoided both of those words, and she felt her stomach fall a little. But still, she agreed with him on the birth control issue. “Okay.”
He held his hand out to her and led her to his private restroom where she cleaned herself up. She walked out and met him once again in his office. “So, I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll walk you down.”
“Okay.”
She lifted her bag off the floor where it had fallen earlier when he’d picked her up. He held her hand and led her to the elevator and down to the actual bank itself. She noticed a few female tellers surreptitiously watching them, even as they continued to work.
Marco was about to lean down—she felt a kiss coming—when he was halted by a man who neither one of them were pleased to see. Mathew Kennedy strolled from a side office and spoke in a jovial mood that was exceedingly unpleasant. The man just didn’t get it. He just didn’t get that Marco detested him. It was certainly apparent for Natalie to see.
“Where have you two been hiding out?” He asked the question of Marco, but Natalie felt a sensation much like bugs crawling on her skin as the man looked her over.
“Haven’t been hiding out, Kennedy.” As he said the words, Marco moved to stand in front of her, taking her out of the other man’s line of vision, but continued to hold her hand in a tight grip behind his back. His motive must have been plain for anyone to see, but Kennedy just wasn’t that smart.
“No? Well, when you two get bored at home, y’all need to come and join the land of the living. You’ve been missing some damn good parties, my man.”
Natalie felt Marco’s breath seize up in his lungs and his shoulders stiffen with tension and pure rage. From her vantage point behind him, she could literally see the hairs on the back of his neck stand out, and she knew she had two choices. She could either let him do something really stupid in his own bank, like pounce on the man, or she could interrupt and draw his attention away from the vermin standing in front of them.
She didn’t hesitate to try to mitigate the situation. She popped her head around Marco’s arm and forced her tone to be pleasant, “It’s nice to see you, Mr. Kennedy, but Marco promised to walk me to my car, didn’t you, babe?” She glanced at Marco and then back around to the other man, her eyes flashing. She knew she sounded vain and spoiled, but she didn’t really give a flying flip. The other man was an ass and she liked his eyes on her even less than Marco did. Well, maybe not. “Marco likes to take care of me that way, you know?” She flashed her eyes at Marco in pure adoration. “He likes to protect me from, well, from everything. It was nice to see you.”
With that, Natalie began to walk away, clutching Marco’s hand to her. She had only one second where she thought her idiotic behavior might not have worked, but then Marco gave the other man an abbreviated look that meant they would meet another day and another time, and then he followed her from the bank.
When they reached her car, she saw Mathew Kennedy turn and leave the bank in the opposite direction from where they stood. She breathed a sigh of relief, and pressed the remote to unlock her car doors. Marco reached the door before she did, and opened it for her. She slid in and looked up at him. He stood with his arms and the car door making a cage around her and was staring down at her as if he’d never seen her before.
She looked steadily back at him, waiting.
His gaze narrowed on her as he ran his eyes up and down her body before landing back on her face. “Babe?” He drawled the one word in a firm, humorous question, making the one syllable stretch into three.
Her eyes twinkled and she smiled up at him. “It worked, didn’t it?”
He puffed out a laugh and shook his head. “You be careful. Got your damn phone this time?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, babe,” she teased.
He rolled his eyes heavenward and shut the door carefully.
Chapter Ten
Eight months later
Natalie took refuge in the upstairs powder room of the mansion in River Oaks and held her tube of lip gloss with hands that shook. She desperately tried to control the trembling in her fingers so she could reapply the color to her lips.
As she looked at herself in the mirror, she knew her inner turmoil was well hidden behind a façade of soft silky hair, a sleek designer dress, and perfect make-up that lacked only the gloss she sought to repair.
The door began to open with not even a tiny sound of warning and her eyes flew to the knob that she had sworn she’d locked. Her breath lodged in her throat as Marco slipped inside, secured the door that she had failed to lock only minutes before, and came to stand behind her in the tiny room.
He pressed his chest against her back, propelling her forward a few inches until she was crowded against the vanity. Her nerves shifted restlessly, and the impact of his body against hers made her lipstick fall from her fingers and land in the sink in front of her.
Her eyes tangled with his in the mirror. The look on his face jolted her heart and her pulse skittered and began pounding in her chest.
He towered over her, and the muscles beneath his designer suit were corded and strained. His eyes were furious, and he held his lips tightly closed over teeth she knew were gritted in anger.
She struggled to control her features, to keep all expression from her face. She would be damned if she let him see how badly she was hurting. She refused to take responsibility for the scene that had just taken place; she was innocent of all wrong-doing.
She began to open her mouth to tell him so.
Before she could get one word out, his hand snaked out and covered her mouth and suppressed her words in a grip so ruthless that it made her nostrils flare and her eyes widen in barely controlled panic.
He lowered his mouth to her ear and held her eyes with his while he hissed out his fury. “I told you not to wear this dress.” He held her silent and immobilized with one steely arm while his other hand reached in front of her and encapsulated her breast. He captured her nipple between his finger and thumb and held it tightly, just short of pain, in a display of ownership and control.
Natalie sucked in oxygen through her nose and closed her eyes against him and the erotic picture they made in the mirror.
&
nbsp; “I told you what Kennedy would do if you wore this fucking dress. The mother-fucker can’t ever keep his goddamn eyes off you.” He dropped his hand inside her neckline and delved inside her lace-edged bra until he was holding her breast in a possessive grip. “I can’t believe I let you buy the damn thing. I’m burning it when we get home.”
Natalie held her eyes closed and tried not to be controlled by his intimate touch on her naked flesh. It was almost impossible to fight against. It had been this way since the day she’d met him, and she very much feared it would be this way until the day she died.
“Open your eyes,” he growled in her ear.
She didn’t comply quickly enough to suit him and his hand dropped from her mouth to land on the pulse beating rapidly in her throat, in a sexually intimidating move. Her eyes flew open at the demanding touch and tangled with his in the mirror as his hands caressed her neck and breast with firm, possessive strokes. She licked her dry lips and tried to get her throat to work. “It’s not the dress,” she argued softly.
“No, it’s damn well not the dress. It’s you. The fucker wants you and thinks he can have you—”
“He only wants me because you have me. It’s all about you, Marco. It has nothing to do with me.”
His eyes narrowed on hers. “That’s bullshit, Natalie. He’s been after you for ten goddamn months and I’m sick of it.”
“He’s jealous of you. You’ve got the looks, you have more money than he does. It drives him crazy and that’s the only reason he even notices me.”
He turned her in his embrace with a smoothly executed maneuver and locked one arm around her middle, pulling her torso up and into his, and lifted her face to study her. “You seriously believe that?”
“Yes, I do. He’s not a very nice man.”
“He never wanted Tanya and he saw me with her on-and-off for a couple of years.
Pain pierced Natalie and slid through her system and landed in a tight coil in her stomach. She didn’t like to think or be reminded of Tanya in any way. Her own foundation was always shaken a bit when she was reminded of the woman who’d been with Marco before her. The woman who’d been with him for so long and still failed to get him to marry her. It left Natalie feeling hollow inside, as if her own dream of a happy ending with the man she loved would end in despair.
She tried to push the thought of the other woman aside and focus on the conversation. “I can’t explain what goes on in his head. Tanya’s beautiful.” More pain assailed her as she said those words.
“Tanya’s a beautiful slut.” Marco’s rejoinder was blasé, with not a hint of emotion, nothing to suggest he had any feeling left for the other woman at all. “He wants you, Natalie.”
He loosened his hold around her waist and took her by the hand, preparing to walk from the room. “And we’re leaving now. I can’t sit through supper and pretend I’m not pissed.”
She tugged on his arm. “We can’t just leave.”
“Yeah, we can.”
“Marco, we can’t be rude. It will hurt your business.”
“It’ll hurt my business if I’m in prison for murder.”
Natalie dug her heels in and tried to hold her ground. “Please don’t say something you’ll regret later. Try to remember that he’s married.”
“You think that would stop him?”
“I think his wife would stop him. I know she’s rather—” Natalie couldn’t think of the right way to describe Nora Kennedy, but she tried. “…out there. But I think she’d divorce him if he humiliated her in front of other people.”
Marco turned and studied Natalie in stunned surprise. Nora Kennedy didn’t give a shit about anyone but herself. All she cared about was money and her own gratification. How could Natalie not see that?
She continued to amaze him. Why, he didn’t understand. He’d known she was sweet from the moment he’d met her. And he didn’t want to spoil that sweetness in any way. He didn’t want her purity and goodness contaminated by even so much as an explanation about the other couple. He knew she already had questions—questions he never wanted to answer.
He knew Natalie had been upset earlier when Nora caged him in a corner of the living room and began flirting her ass off. He’d seen Natalie’s wounded eyes from across the room, but what she didn’t realize was that he hadn’t heard one-tenth of Nora’s bullshit. He may have appeared to be giving the other woman his attention, but that was because he was frozen—a pure river of ice running through his veins as he ignored Nora. His eyes and attention had been on Matthew Kennedy and the beeline he’d been making for Natalie. And when the man had finally reached her side, he’d actually touched her.
Touched her. Touched Natalie.
And then the shit had hit the fan.
He’d pushed away from Nora, Natalie had pulled her arm free from Kennedy’s hold, and she’d run upstairs. Marco remembered giving the other man a blasting stare, but he hadn’t wanted to waste his time on the guy and had instead followed Natalie upstairs. She was his number one priority and always would be.
And now he didn’t give a shit how they extricated themselves from this mess, he just wanted to get her home and get her naked.
It happened every damn time. Every time some guy made a move on her, he wanted to do two things. Kill the guy. And get her naked.
He couldn’t kill every guy who looked at her, or half the population of Houston would be dead by now. Oh, but he could sink into her every time. And he did. It was almost worth the blistering rage in his guts he felt when someone else looked at her.
But tonight, someone had touched her. Someone had had the fucking temerity to touch her.
He swore to God, if it happened just once again, Matthew Kennedy would feel the impact of touching his woman. And he’d feel it where it would hurt him the most: his business, his bank account.
Marco slipped his phone from his pocket. “Bring the car around. We’re leaving early.”
His curt demand was met with instant agreement, and now all Marco had to do was get Natalie out of this house and away from the Kennedys’ depraved brand of company.
If he’d known for sure that the other couple would be here tonight, he would have begged off. He didn’t know how he would have gotten out of the commitment, but he damn sure would have.
He hated it. It enraged him. The only place Marco’s former life crossed with his business world was the goddamned Kennedys. When he’d started going to the debauched round of parties with Tanya, he had never met the other couple before. He had no idea they were customers at his bank. But the one good thing about their kind of business was he could cut them off any damn time he felt the need. They didn’t have large deposits with him, oh no, on the contrary. They had debt. Big debt. Ugly debt.
As Marco walked downstairs, he wasn’t unaware of the nerves that were making Natalie tremble softly as she walked beside him. He clutched her elbow, offering her both the support she needed and the close proximity he was beginning to require. Proximity that would be essential to calm the fires of rage he knew would only be stronger the second the other man came into view.
Maybe they could escape without anymore contact with the other couple.
But it wasn’t to be.
Matthew Kennedy was waiting for them, hovering as closely as he could near the stairway. His glass of bourbon was almost gone, and his wife was nowhere to be seen. He began trying to smooth things over at once. “Marco, my man, let’s get you another drink and—”
Marco wasn’t in the mood to listen to his shit and cut him off as he pulled Natalie to the door. “No.”
“There’s no need to leave so soon—”
“There’s every need. I’ve warned you before about keeping your distance. I never thought you’d be so stupid as to touch her.” His words were harsh and when he felt Natalie stiffen beside him, his grasp on her became tighter.
The other man took a deep breath, no doubt finally realizing how pissed off Marco was. As Matthew Kennedy’s eyes left Mar
co’s and landed on Natalie, Marco hissed out another warning. “Don’t look at her.”
The older man’s eyes quickly left Natalie and connected with Marco’s stare. Marco wasted no time. He opened the door and left the man with a parting shot. “This is your last warning. I don’t need your fucking business. The next time you touch her, the next time you try to speak to her, the next time you so much as look in her direction, I’m calling in your loans. You think your goddamn wife is hard to satisfy now? Try it with no money and living in the gutter.”
Marco turned toward the black Audi SUV idling in the circular driveway, pulling Natalie behind him, and left Mathew Kennedy floundering for air like a fish on a hook.
****
Marco didn’t drink often, but when they entered the penthouse, he went straight to the sideboard and poured himself a bourbon, neat. He downed it in one shot, and poured another. He walked to the couch and sank down into, watching Natalie hovering by the door.
“I’m burning that goddamn dress.”
“No, you’re not,” she replied as she stood in the entryway.
No, he wasn’t. She looked too damn good in it. Maybe he’d let her keep it and wear it around the apartment, just for him.
“Sit down.” He gestured with the hand holding the highball glass, indicating the chair across from him where he could see her and not be tempted to strip her clothes from her body as he so often was.
She sat, smoothing the lines of the dress. He watched the nervous movements of her fingers, the deep breaths she was taking. Everything about her—he wanted. He felt a burning need to keep her here, to have her just for himself. He wondered if there was anything on the face of the earth that could calm him down when it came to her.
He could only think of one thing.
And he didn’t know if even that would be enough.
He began slowly. He’d lived with her for almost a year now, and they’d finally begun having long talks some months ago. “I know you have issues with your father abandoning you and your mother.”
She looked him steadily in the eye but he could tell she didn’t know where this was going. “Yes.”
