Enthralled: A Box Set

by Pamela Ann

  Isobel was hardly a lover, let alone mine. Perhaps soon that would change. “Get to the point.”

  “You know it’s unwise.”

  Like I would ever forget. It was impossible to. He made sure of it. “Sherry and Chantel are very much in the picture. They’re simply taking a break, vacationing in their chosen destination. This hiatus is merely temporary.”

  “Thank God,” he grumbled loudly, relieved that whatever my Aunt Julee was speculating was merely that, a speculation. “I’m glad this is nothing serious, but pay heed, my son. Never make the same mistake again.”

  Every single time, like I would ever forget it. I wished things were different, but this was apparently our fate. One mistake was all it took before it became a domino effect for everyone. Even when I was indirectly involved, I, too, bore the brunt of his punishment.

  “Why are we paying for sins that were made a decade ago? Isn’t it enough that we’ve suffered and paid for the consequences?” It angered me to even think about it. I had attempted to end it, although the price that had come along with my ingenuousness had been high. It had taught me a lesson—that sometimes making a sacrifice was easier than putting other people’s lives in danger. I would never make that same mistake again.

  “Every day, I’m grateful that your mother wasn’t alive to witness any of it.”

  “So am I,” I made the same sentiment. “Well, I’m bidding you goodnight and try to play nice with Julee. Francois did just divorce her.”

  “Julee… a delicate divorcee.” He made a sardonic laugh. “Goodnight, son.”

  “Dormez bien, Père.” (Sleep well.)

  After hanging up on my father, my cell phone immediately buzzed to life again. This time it was Benoît. “Oui.”

  “Monsieur, I apologize to interrupt your night, but I lost sight of mademoiselle Elena and mademoiselle Isobel. The club is unexpectedly packed.”

  It was summer, of course it was. Then again, given Benoît’s age and my less inclined desire to go to clubs, this most likely came as a shock to him. The issue I’d been contemplating had just been provided with an answer.

  “I’m on my way,” I said after he gave me the location.

  Heading back towards Monaco, I recalled the moment when I was on my way upstairs from the living room after my short talk with Julee when I caught sight of Isobel in a scantily clad black dress; if one could even consider it as such. The scrap of cloth had hugged her slender form, leaving little imagination to any man who desired her. Even when we had gone out to the auction, she had been dressed accordingly, thus seeing her transformation had bothered me greatly. So much so that I had remained still, hidden from their view, and waited until they both had left to go party.

  I could only account my shock to the fact she was young, and for some odd reason, this essential tidbit had escaped me each time I had seen her. Isobel was already beautiful, yet tonight, the word didn’t suffice.

  Once I arrived and entered the club, Benoît was there to greet me at the entrance, seeming out of place. “Go home. I’ll take it from here.” He tried to argue with my decision, but I was persistent for him to get some rest.

  After he left, I immediately scanned the place as the music roared in my ears. For ten minutes, I scoured for them, however the place was too dark and the ever-changing, techni-colored laser lights made it harder to focus.

  After another fifteen minutes, with still no sign of them, I was about to take my leave when something caught my eye. It was Elena. She was on the second floor, in the VIP section, dancing on top of the table… and Isobel was doing exactly the same thing.

  I froze, watching her for a moment, when I felt all common sense leave my body before something else took precedence.

  Seventy-Seven

  Isobel

  “Uh-oh. I think someone’s in big trouble,” Elena whispered into my ear, teasing.

  The music was so loud I couldn’t grasp what she was saying, but when she pointed behind me and I turned around to check what she was mumbling about, I was surprised to find Hugo looking like he was Death’s messenger.

  Frowning, I stared at him, hoping he hadn’t come here to break up our party. Because if he had, well, I wouldn’t like that very much.

  Touching Elena’s shoulder to get her attention, I mouthed and pointed my thumb towards her cousin’s direction, expecting she’d get the hint that I was going over to say hi. She shooed me away, grinning teasingly before she focused her attention to her other friends—all of whom consisted of men, by the way; a tidbit she had forgotten to mention.

  Weaving my way towards Hugo, past the white curtains and a few private parties, I exhaled an exasperated sigh when the man didn’t even move a muscle to meet me halfway. He simply waited, brooding sexily while those hypnotizing eyes of his didn’t miss a beat in following me. Then, once I reached him, he kept on his mask of cool indifference without saying a word.

  Hell, is everything okay?

  “Is there an emergency?” I asked, almost yelling at him.

  When he kept ignoring me, my patience immediately deteriorated. “All right. Well it was odd seeing you here… but I have to get back to my party. Hope you have a blast playing mannequin.” I was being sarcastic, however I couldn’t help it. He was being insufferable.

  “Outside,” he bit out. “We need to talk.”

  “Good to know your tongue is still intact.” I folded my arms underneath my breasts, readying to fight back. As far as I was concerned, I hadn’t done anything wrong. Thus, for him to come here acting like a complete arse was completely unjustified.

  Strutting away, he didn’t look back to see if I was trailing behind him. He merely kept on striding ahead. The more he acted like a pompous dick, the more colorful my anger became—from warm to dark, to all shades of red.

  Passing the entrance, I wasn’t really surprised the people who worked here knew him, and they all chimed respectively as he passed them by, bidding him well for the night. He probably was a patron, notorious for his lavish lifestyle and bountiful supply of temporary girlfriends.

  The fresh air hitting my warm skin did nothing to soothe my mood. Apparently, he had parked his car a few doors down, and when his Bugatti Veyron came into view, he immediately unlocked it, showing no mercy.

  “Get in the car,” he commanded in a tone I shouldn’t question. Well, he was out of luck tonight because I wasn’t in the mood to be bossed around like a brainless bimbo.

  “No.”

  Oooh, the “no” truly got to him.

  “Merde! Get in the bloody car, Isobel!” He looked murderous yet sexy with his five o’clock shadow and dark, mysterious eyes.

  Although, as gorgeous as I found him, it wasn’t enough incentive for him to order me about.

  “Which part of no, don’t you understand?” I was tipsy—buzzed—not an idiot. I wanted to infuriate him more, for some odd reason. Maybe it was the way he was reacting—or overreacting—which was just so unusual. Call it curiosity or whatever, but I yearned to see more fire in him. I wanted to stoke his temper until he cracked and burst into flames. “What’s the problem, Hugo Xavier?” I mocked him further. “Are you the man or the mannequin?”

  “My problem is you, Isobel,” he finally said after a full minute.

  Of all the things I had expected to hear him say, that was something I hadn’t seen coming.

  He rounded the car, bearing the same expression on his face, before he stood before me, looking far and beyond disappointed.

  “I expected more from you. And seeing how you loved the attention of the men ogling what was underneath your skirt…” he paused, nose flaring as he gave me a cutting look, “I didn’t see you as a flirty devil may care kind of slut.”

  My rose tinted lips hung ajar, shocked from his verbal accusations. “I beg your pardon?” I shook my head in disbelief, uncertain if I should strangle him or kick him to the curb. “How dare you! How. Bloody. Dare. You!”

  “I fucking dare because you’re mine!” he
growled loudly, uncaring if there was an audience about, willing to eavesdrop. “For the next twenty three weeks, you are solely mine and mine alone! And I don’t appreciate you flaunting and flirting what is rightfully mine.” He punctuated each word as if it was the law.

  Hold on, I thought as I blinked rapidly, hoping I was hallucinating his word vomit.

  “Tell me that you’re drunk and needed a good laugh. Because the rubbish that’s coming out of your twisted mouth is rather nauseating.”

  A dry laugh came out of him, looking less amused. “How about you tell me that you’re drunk, which is why you danced on the table like you worked for a strip club.”

  If I could produce steam, it would’ve come out of my ears already. The bastard had just crossed the proverbial line. So I slapped him. Hard. The stinging hot impact of my palm smacking against his cheek wasn’t satisfying enough, though.

  “First off, this is temporary. I signed to be your plaything, but under no circumstances did it state that I’m to be your property,” I grated out with my finger pressing against his chest. “I have my own mind; it’s my right to do whatever I want to do. I don’t care about what you think. In fact, go ahead and think of me as a slut. I don’t bloody care! To hell with your barbaric mentally—”

  I was in the middle of my overture when the bastard kissed me like I was his possession.

  I was royally mad yet wickedly aroused. Dear God, the bastard could kiss. He kissed me in a way that felt like all my thoughts and all the mechanics of my brain had melted away, and all I could fathom was his lips and how he made me feel.

  Then, out of nowhere, I felt something vibrate.

  It was his phone.

  Snapping out of my entranced funk, I yanked my lips away from him before I gasped for air, finding it hard to believe what had just occurred between us. “What the—you fucking kissed me!” I hissed at him accusingly, beyond mortified.

  “What? It’s not in the contract, too?”

  My heart was galloping madly against my chest, and as much as I wanted to hate him, I couldn’t deny the fact I had responded to his kiss. However, I couldn’t let it happen again.

  Breathing raggedly, I felt the shame and horror of what had happened. The situation between us was getting out of hand. We were supposed to be indifferent to each other. This odd, zinging connection shouldn’t be toyed with; it was too dangerous. Besides, too much was at risk, and I couldn’t lose the only person that had kept me going all this time. Fancying Hugo wasn’t part of the equation.

  “You—you shouldn’t do that.”

  He seemed unperturbed as he cupped my face and stared into me. “I don’t care,” he fiercely murmured. “So sue me.”

  I nervously panted, feeling out of my depth. Words of protest formed into mind, but he managed to hijack my thoughts for the second time the moment he connected his lips with mine once more. This time, he devoured me like a meal, consuming me whole.

  His kiss was rough, yet it held sweetness. It was as hard as it was passionate. It was as much fire as it was ice. It drowned me as it floated me into thin air. The world spun, and in that instant, I felt everything. He made me feel everything, vibrating it through my veins, all over my body.

  He paused with our lips pressing against each other. “Isobel…” he groaned out, sounding pained.

  With my eyes closed, I felt at the tip of surrender, but there was still a little fight in me. “What are you doing?”

  “I’ve tried to stop, but I’m done fighting it,” he confessed with ferocity, with passion. “I want you,” he vehemently promised. “All of you.”

  Dammit. I was at a loss for words because it felt like he was making a declaration to a lover, not to a woman he barely knew.

  “Hugo—” I tried to argue, but he immediately placed a finger on my lips to stop me.

  “Two weeks.” He was reminding me of what I had promised him earlier this afternoon. “You have two weeks to think about it.”

  I was at a war with myself. Mind and body fighting at both ends. I was beyond conflicted, staggering between the one I lusted after and the one I loved.

  “Do you trust me?”

  I didn’t require thinking about my answer. “Yes.” I nodded, whispering, “I trust you.”

  “Then spend the night with me.”

  Okay, I needed to slow down—to think for a second. Besides, I hadn’t come here alone.

  “What about Elena? She’s probably wondering where I am.”

  My excuses went unnoticed. “She’s with her friends. She’ll be fine,” he persisted, unwilling to allow anything to stop him from accomplishing his goal.

  “Okay.” I nodded, hating myself for allowing this route to progress, though I somehow felt compelled to.

  He was breaking the rules, but how far would he go to get what he wanted?

  Seventy-Eight

  Isobel

  During the drive back to his villa, we both kept to ourselves. From time to time, I’d see him through my peripheral vision, giving me lingering glances.

  My mind ran amuck.

  Because, if the encounter we’d had earlier was simply part of the deal we’d agreed upon, it would’ve been fine. However, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it was. The business arrangement was no more and where we were at the moment was at a standstill. We had reached a stalemate.

  I’m done fighting it. His words dug deep into my heart, but I wasn’t done fighting this—whatever this thing was we had. His admission should be enough to tell me how complicated this was going to get. Moreover, as much as I wanted to deny him, there was a piece of me yearning to know him. We were always at odds, and apart from the physical attraction, we had nothing else going on. Yet here we were, pondering. Contemplating.

  I had never been in this situation where I despised someone while my heart would thump ever so loudly when he was near. Was this what they called love-hate? Craving someone you didn’t even like? Or was that lunacy?

  The thought of what might happen tonight terrified me, although I couldn’t seem to stop myself. There was simply something about him. Maybe it was the air of mystery he had around him, or the way he looked at me. I mean, really looked at me like I was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Or maybe because he’d been teasing me from the start, building this need, this palpable tension from the ground up until I was pouring out desperation and curiosity.

  What did I really know? Hugo was the kind of man who always got what he wished for, and he had admitted he wanted me.

  All of me.

  When he had declared that earlier, whatever decisions I hadn’t been sure about before had all gone down the drain. The answer had dawned on me, causing me to feel helpless from not being able to stop this wild ride I was embarking on with Hugo Xavier, playboy extraordinaire. This was it. After tonight, I would have to own up to my mistakes.

  Taking a peek at his profile, I knew there was no way out of this without getting hurt, one way or the other. Undeterred, I rested my head against the headrest and continued watching him as he drove… breathed… lived.

  “Why can’t I resist you?” I finally whispered, breaking his concentration.

  He made an arresting smile. “Think, long and hard,” he said, giving me a quick glance. “Three years ago. London, winter of 2011.”

  I frowned, confused about what he’d just said. London? In 2011?

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The first time we met.”

  “I’ve never met you until I went into that office in The Riviera.” It couldn’t be. I had perpetually been busy with Damen. I had wondered if there was something truly familiar about Hugo, but I hadn’t been able to come up with anything.

  “If you say so,” he easily dismissed his claim, making me a little mad.

  I made a strangled, groaning sound. “Dammit, Hugo. Now’s not the time to mess with my mind.”

  Releasing a breath, he concentrated on the road before he responded to me. “I didn’t remember, act
ually, until a few days ago. There was something familiar about you, yet I couldn’t seem to grasp where and how it came about.”

  2011… I pondered as the villa came into view. I continued trying to recall, but nothing came to light. Frustrated, I didn’t ask him again until we were parked and out of the car.

  “You know I won’t stop asking until you tell me the truth,” I said as I watched him close my door.

  He leaned me against the Bugatti, trapping me with his body as both of his hands situated against the top of the car, giving me only a small amount of breathing space. “If you don’t remember, then I don’t see the point of it.”

  “You aren’t being fair.”

  The back of his knuckles softly brushed against my jaw as he stared at my lips. “With you, I am being more than fair. My appetites are ravenous, but I’ve sacrificed my pleasures to pursue you.”

  Sacrificed? What did he mean by that?

  “You could take me, but you always seem hesitant.”

  “I could,” he breezily said without hesitation. “But I don’t want to steal that, ma belle. I want you to give it to me, willingly. No contract or obligations, but free will.”

  This truly made sense, and at the same time, it was troubling because he wanted so much more from me.

  “What if you’re unable to make me give it to you, willingly? What then?”

  “I’m man enough to know when to admit defeat,” he murmured before teasing his lip against my ear. “But you must know I won’t give up until I know there’s no hope for me.”

  “You seem very determined,” I quietly observed, admiring his perseverance a little.

  No man had made it a mission to pursue me like this. I wouldn’t lie, either; I felt special. Though I should know better than to feel that, especially since the man was known for being a playboy. Yet here I was, letting his words affect me.