All the Right Places (RILEY O'BRIEN & CO #1)

by Jenna Sutton

  “Thirty-five million.”

  He couldn’t believe Teagan would be so reckless with her inheritance. Would she?

  “Thirty-five million,” he repeated. “For a few sketches that might be shoved in a drawer and forgotten?” He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s insane. There has to be something more.”

  “The financing is contingent on whether you put my designs into production. If you don’t, I get nothing.”

  He tried to wrap his mind around what Amelia had said. She wouldn’t get the money for her boutiques unless he signed off on her designs. She needed his approval—his goddamn blessing—before Teagan would open her checkbook.

  The truth hit him squarely in the chest. “Jesus. I’m such an idiot. I actually thought everything was falling into place . . . that everything was going to work out.” He laughed mirthlessly. “You were just playing me. You were fucking me to get the money for your boutiques.”

  • • •

  Quinn’s jaw was clenched, and Amelia could tell he was struggling to control his anger. He took several deep breaths, his bare chest moving like bellows.

  “I wasn’t playing you.”

  His eyes narrowed into slits, and she knew her denial had made him even angrier. A chill chased over her, reminding her that she wore only a bustier, thong, and high heels. She shivered, not just from the cold but also because her near nakedness made her feel even more vulnerable.

  She hastily scanned the room, desperate to find her robe. She shivered again, the movement drawing Quinn’s gaze to her chest. His eyes zeroed in on her nipples. They were pebbled from the cold and, if she were honest, his nearness. He was close enough she could feel the heat from his muscular chest.

  He made a sound deep in his throat, one of disgust rather than lust or pleasure. “Would you put on some fucking clothes?”

  His harsh tone made her flinch. She lunged toward her dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer and jerking out the first piece of clothing she touched, a faded Dallas Cowboys T-shirt she sometimes used as a nightgown.

  As she dragged it over her head, her hair came loose from its pins. Ignoring the tangled strands, she pulled down the T-shirt to cover her body, feeling ridiculous because she still wore her heels.

  Quinn’s gaze swept over her wild hair before he focused on her face. “When did you and Teagan cook up your little plan? Before or after we started sleeping together?”

  She met his eyes, and the icy anger in them made it hard for her to pull in a deep breath. “Before,” she admitted. “I agreed to Teagan’s deal before I even met you. I didn’t expect this . . . this attraction between us.”

  “You didn’t expect it, but you definitely took advantage of it,” he snarled.

  “Took advantage of it?” she repeated incredulously, her voice shrill. “I tried to keep things professional!”

  “Were you trying to keep things professional when you sucked my dick in the penthouse? Or when you fucked me in the front seat of my Audi? Or when you sat on the kitchen counter with my face between your legs?”

  She sucked in an agonized breath. “Don’t. Please don’t do that. Please don’t turn something wonderful into something ugly.”

  He grimaced. “I need to leave or I’m going to say things I will regret later.”

  She met him in the middle of the room and placed her palms on his chest. His pectoral muscles jumped under her fingers.

  “Don’t go. We need to talk about this.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied, shoving her hands away. “I just want to forget. I want to forget that you were lying every time you were with me.”

  His voice was a pained whisper, and Amelia’s chest ached with sorrow that she had hurt him so badly.

  “I wasn’t lying,” she countered. “I didn’t have sex with you to get the financing for my boutiques.”

  Reaching for the hem of the T-shirt she’d just put on, she pulled it over her head. His eyes widened as she threw it on the bed.

  “I had sex with you because I wanted to be with you,” she added.

  She trailed her hands down her bustier, and his eyes followed them intently. She began to undo the hooks, starting with the one at the very bottom. His eyes grew darker as the hooks opened, baring her stomach first and then the valley between her breasts.

  The bustier fell open, and he sucked in a breath as it slid to the floor. She reached for the waistband of the thong resting low on her pelvis and hooked her fingers in it. His hand shot out and gripped her wrist before she could pull it down.

  “What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Showing you the truth.”

  As she stepped closer, her breasts brushed against his chest, the fine dark hair on it tickling her nipples. The front of his pants was tented with his erection, and she danced her fingers across the hard length.

  Closing his eyes, he released his grip on her wrist. She immediately pushed her thong over her legs and somehow managed to step out of it without falling. He was breathing heavily now, his eyes still closed. She unbuttoned his pants and released his zipper just enough to delve inside his boxer briefs.

  As she wrapped her hand around his penis, he groaned and dropped his head back. She rubbed her thumb against the plump head where fluid had seeped out, and then suddenly he moved, pulling her hand from his underwear.

  She met his gaze for one burning moment before he pushed her backward and down onto the bed. He fell on top of her in a light pounce, forcing her legs open and settling between them.

  In one frantic movement, he shoved his pants and underwear down just enough to free his thick penis before pinning her to the bed with his weight. He threaded his fingers through her hair and brought her face close to his.

  “This isn’t going to get you what you want,” he warned, the expression on his face one she didn’t recognize.

  She ran her hands up his sides. “You don’t know what I want,” she replied, clenching her fingers into his back.

  He dropped his forehead against hers, and she raised her legs, hooking her feet over his back. She purposefully dug her sharp heels into his butt cheeks, and he hissed when his erection brushed against her folds.

  “Fuck,” he said before thrusting roughly into her.

  She held him tightly, allowing him to use her. Hoping he would spill his anger and disillusionment in her body. Praying he would forgive her.

  After only a few deep strokes, he stiffened and groaned, his penis pulsing inside her. Turning his face away, he released a shuddering breath. Seconds later, he pulled out. He reared back on his heels and pulled up his underwear and pants, fastening them quickly.

  He moved to the side of the bed and sat there, his head drooped forward and his broad shoulders slumped. She touched his back where her fingernails had made deep crescents in his skin, and he flinched before vaulting to his feet.

  As he began to gather his clothes from the floor, Amelia grabbed her Cowboys T-shirt and quickly pulled it on. She knelt motionless on the bed, her throat tight with the knowledge that she had just made things so much worse.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She was sorry for so many things she didn’t even know where to start. He snatched up his dress shirt, ignoring her apology.

  “I know you’re angry with me.”

  He barked out a laugh. “I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself for fucking you when I know you don’t give a damn about me. If you did, you would have told me about what you and Teagan were doing. But you didn’t tell me, not even after we started sleeping together. You cared more about your boutiques than you did about me.”

  She was tempted to defend herself by telling him that she’d wanted to be honest with him, but Teagan had demanded her silence. But she swallowed the words, knowing that information would only fuel his anger.

  Plus, when i
t came right down to it, she had kept the project a secret for her own benefit, first so she could get the financing, and then because she’d wanted to have Quinn for as long as she could.

  He shrugged on his dress shirt and clumsily fastened the buttons. Scanning her bedroom, he found his undershirt and scooped it up from the floor. He shook it at her, the opposite of a surrender flag.

  “There’s only one reason you didn’t tell me and that’s because you were taking advantage of my feelings to get what you wanted—the financing for your boutiques.”

  “I wanted to tell you the truth, but I was afraid . . .”

  He glanced at her alertly. “Afraid of what?”

  She looked down, the floral print on the duvet blurring a little from her tears. She’d been afraid of losing the money for her boutiques, of course, but she didn’t even care about that anymore. She’d been afraid of losing him, and right now that seemed inevitable.

  But mostly she had been afraid to let herself love him. She had been afraid to give herself to him . . . to give him the power to hurt her.

  He waited several seconds, offering her the opportunity to explain. When it became clear that she had nothing to say, he sighed tiredly.

  “I’m leaving.” He balled his undershirt in his hands. “Lock the door behind me.”

  “Lock the door?”

  He frowned. “Yes, lock the door. It’s not safe for you to be here alone in the middle of the night with the door unlocked.”

  Her heart cracked open. Even though she had hurt him, and even though he thought she had used him, he still wanted to keep her safe. Only an idiot would let that kind of man walk out of her life. Amelia was a lot of things, but she wasn’t an idiot.

  Quinn will take care of my heart. It’s safe with him.

  He stalked toward the door.

  “Wait!”

  He ignored her. When he reached for the doorknob, she jumped off the bed.

  “Please don’t go. I love you.”

  He froze, and for several seconds, he didn’t move. Finally, he turned to face her. His cheeks were flushed with color, his eyes intensely blue.

  “What did you say?”

  “I love you,” she repeated.

  It was the first time she’d said it to anyone other than Ava Grace, and it came out much easier than she had thought it would. In fact, she felt lighter now that she no longer denied her love for him.

  He stared at her, his face unreadable. “Since when?”

  Since when? What kind of question was that? She didn’t know when she had fallen in love with him, not exactly. And why was that fact important?

  “I don’t know,” she answered, shrugging uncomfortably.

  He cocked his head. “Did you just realize it?”

  “No.”

  “No?” he repeated. “Then why didn’t you tell me before?”

  She blew out a breath. “Ugh! I don’t know! I just didn’t.”

  He nodded. “So . . . you love me,” he said, an edge in his voice.

  She hesitated. His questions were unexpected, and her stomach started to cramp with anxiety.

  “Yes, I love you.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you,” he replied flatly.

  “I know my timing seems a little suspicious. I’m sure you think this is about my deal with Teagan . . .”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t you believe me?” she asked, her voice wobbly.

  As he stared at her, tears formed in the corners of her eyes. He turned and opened the door, and she frantically tried to think of what else she could say to stop him from leaving.

  Quinn paused at the threshold, and hope bubbled in her chest. But it dissolved when he shifted to face her, his face devoid of any emotion.

  “Because you told me that you don’t lie to people you love,” he answered before walking out.

  Chapter 40

  Quinn took another swing at the punching bag hanging from the ceiling of his garage. His boxing gloves smacked against the leather, pushing the bag forward. As it swung back he heard the squeak of the interior door.

  Glancing toward the noise, he saw Cal out of the corner of his eye. After closing the door, his brother jogged down the stairs and stepped behind the bag to hold it steady.

  “I drove by and saw the light on,” Cal explained, peering around the bag. “I decided to check it out since you’re supposed to be in Nashville until Sunday and it’s only Thursday. I figured someone broke in and suffered cardiac arrest when they saw the mess in your bedroom.”

  Quinn grunted and slammed his fist into the bag. The impact reverberated up his arm, and he followed up with several more satisfying punches. The silence was broken only by the sound of his gloves making contact with the bag until Cal sighed loudly.

  “Why don’t you stop beating the shit out of this bag and tell me why you came home early.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to talk about Saika either, but I did. Now open your fucking mouth and start talking.”

  All the hurt and anger he’d tried to stifle flooded him, starting out as little pinpricks under his skin. Within seconds, every inch of his body seemed to pulse with agony. He loved Amelia so much he ached with it. But the whole time he’d been losing his heart and planning a future with her, she had been scheming with his sister and putting his job in jeopardy.

  He clutched the bag with both gloves and dropped his sweaty forehead against it. “I thought it was meant to be, Cal,” he said, his voice barely audible in the hollow silence of the garage.

  “What was meant to be?”

  “Me and Amelia. I had it all planned out. She’d take over the women’s division and give it an extreme makeover. With her help, Riley O’Brien & Co. would crush the competition and regain the market share it lost. We’d get married, have a few kids with curly red hair, and when they grew up, they would have a heritage they could be proud of.”

  Cal pushed against the bag, forcing Quinn to raise his head. He straightened and met Cal’s eyes.

  “That sounds like a damn good plan,” Cal said. “But when did you decide to make over the women’s division? You’ve shot down Teagan’s ideas over and over again.”

  “I’ve been thinking about the women’s division for a while now, even before Teagan started pushing her ideas. But I didn’t want to step on Dad’s toes, and I didn’t want to do something that would harm Riley O’Brien & Co. There’s no guarantee the women’s division will ever be successful, no matter how much money we pour into it. A lot of businesses that try to remake themselves fail.”

  Cal nodded. “That’s true. But I still think we have to try.”

  “I agree. Shelby’s presentation was an eye-opener. Female consumers have too much buying power, and we’re hurting the entire business by ignoring them. Hell, I think we’ve done more than ignore them. I think we’ve alienated them.”

  In addition to Shelby’s presentation, his conversations with Amelia had profoundly impacted him. Her faith in him had given him the confidence he needed to move the company forward. He could accomplish anything as long as she was with him.

  But she’s not with me.

  “Did you tell Amelia about your plan?”

  “Yes, the part about the women’s division. But she has her own plan.”

  Cal’s dark eyebrows arched. “What kind of plan?”

  “She wants to open her own chain of boutiques.”

  “Maybe she can do both,” Cal suggested. “Maybe you can provide the financing so she doesn’t have to bring in other investors.”

  Quinn laughed, the sound shaded with bitterness. “She already has an investor lined up. She and Teagan worked out a deal. Teagan hired Amelia to revamp the women’s division behind my back and promised to fund Amelia’s boutiques if she cou
ld get my buy-in for the new designs.”

  “Holy shit,” Cal breathed. “Our sister is a modern-day Machiavelli. She’s ruthless.”

  Just the thought of Teagan’s duplicity filled Quinn with fury. He could barely wrap his head around what she had done.

  “She thinks it’s easy to run a multibillion-dollar company . . . to make decisions that affect thousands of people. But it’s not easy. It’s fucking terrifying. Four generations of our family dedicated their lives to Riley O’Brien & Co., and every day I wake up thinking this is the day I’m going to make a decision that will destroy it all. My ass is on the line when things go sideways, not Teagan’s.”

  Cal eyed him sympathetically. “I know it’s not easy, brother.” He suddenly gasped, horror filling his face. “Jesus Christ on a pogo stick! Was Amelia fucking you to get the financing for her boutiques?”

  “I don’t know.” Quinn squeezed his eyes shut. “She said she wasn’t. She said she loves me.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “No.”

  Learning about Amelia’s scheming and then hearing her say she loved him had felt like a one-two punch. He’d already been stunned, and then she had delivered a knockout blow. He was still down for the count, and he wondered if he would ever find his feet again.

  Amelia had made him off balance from the moment he’d met her. He’d spent hours thinking about her, agonizing over how she felt about him. He had lounged on his blue-jean sofa and daydreamed about telling her how he felt. He had imagined how amazing it would be to hear “I love you” float from her luscious mouth.

  Every night before he had fallen asleep beside her, he had prayed that she loved him as much as he loved her. He had prayed that she would want to spend her life with him—that she would wear his ring and bear his children. He had prayed that they would have a long and happy life together.

  He had prayed for things he had never prayed for before. And when Amelia had finally said, “I love you,” it seemed as if his prayers had been answered. For a brief, wonderful moment, he had forgotten what she and Teagan had done. Pure joy had radiated throughout his body, filling him from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.