The Fidelity World: Marked (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Dangerous Intentions Book 1)

by Casey Hagen

“Describe scandalously.”

  She glanced around at the people skating about. “I can’t. Little ears,” she said, scrunching up her face and pointing to the kids swooping around them.

  “Will this grabbing be front or back? At least give me that much.”

  “Front…and if you’re really good, I’ll get on my knees.”

  She meant it as flirtatious banter, but the minute the words popped out his body tensed. Not in an angry way. No, never that.

  A sly smile curved over his kissable lips. He let go of the wall and, although the glides weren’t graceful by any means, managed to reach her with short, choppy movements. “I want that kiss.”

  She curled her fingers into his jacket. “Well, then, give me your lips.” She pulled him down to her and lay her mouth on his. Heat bubbled up inside her, and the urge to deepen the kiss propelled her to open her mouth and taste him with her tongue.

  He groaned, pulling her in tighter, deepening the kiss, sweeping her up into a storm of lust and need.

  “Hey, get a room, why don’t ya?” a man called as he skated past them.

  Beatrice laughed. “We’re putting on a display.”

  He hummed against her cheek, his hot mouth gliding to her ear. “Yeah, but I thought you liked that,” he said. His hot breath licking over the shell of her ear had her wiggling on her skates.

  “Shh, that’s top secret,” she said with a giggle.

  He tapped her nose in an unexpected sign of affection. “You hungry?”

  “I could eat,” she said.

  “Good. You like Italian?”

  At the mention of Italian her thoughts went right to rich red sauce and cheese, making her stomach growl. “God, who doesn’t?”

  “You’d be surprised at the number of women unwilling to eat pasta. A pity,” he said, bunching up his shoulders.

  She dropped a hand to her hip. “You ask a lot of women out for Italian, do you?”

  “Not anymore,” he said quietly.

  ***

  He took her to Il Corso, just a few blocks away from Rockefeller Center. The small, minimally adorned dining room offered a comfortable, uncluttered eating experience.

  Soft white lights illuminated the dining room. The hostess led them to the back corner, where the table had a wall-side bench seat with chairs on the opposite side.

  She slid onto the bench and he followed. He couldn’t say why, but he didn’t like having his back to the room.

  “This is adorable. I’ve never been here.”

  She practically bounced where she sat, and another piece of his heart broke free at the lightheartedness he hadn’t seen thus far.

  “Do you trust me to order for both of us?”

  “Sure,” she said with a smile.

  The waiter stepped up, pen in hand, ready to take their order.

  “We’d like to start off with the golden calamari. For the main course we’ll take the lasagna and the risotto. If you could bring us a bottle of the best red you have, that would be excellent,” Micah said without even glancing at the menus.

  “Very well, sir. Thank you.”

  “It’s hot the way you take over,” she said.

  “You might not like it in the long run. I have a habit of doing it in most things, but tonight I want to get as much uninterrupted time with you as I can.”

  “Does that mean you plan on having me around? You know, for the long run?”

  Normally a question like that from a woman pissed him off, but with Beatrice not a chance. His mind has already resigned itself to something more.

  His hunger for revenge whispered to him, a calculating force, telling him the something more worked, doing double duty if he were to use her for payback.

  Her fingers drifted over him under the table, and he clenched his fist. “What are you doing?”

  “We had a certain deal about your front. I figured I should honor it,” she said.

  The waiter chose just that moment to bring their bottle of wine. He popped the cork, and aerated the bottle before pouring a small amount in Micah’s glass.

  Micah couldn’t have cared less about the production but the guy had a job to do, and obviously took great pride in his work, so Micah wouldn’t disappoint him. He took a sip and moved it around in his mouth, making sure to hit all the areas of his tongue.

  “This is excellent. Thank you,” Micah said.

  The waiter filled their glasses and set the bottle between them before heading off.

  He raised his glass and waited as Beatrice did the same. “To unexpected adventures.”

  “To unexpected adventures,” she murmured.

  They locked gazes as they sipped their wine. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this woman, but he hoped to hell he didn’t screw it up. The fear of that brought him back to the party and what he had to do.

  To protect her.

  He steered the conversation to hobbies. Eager to get to know her in more than just in the carnal way he asked about her childhood, to which she admitted to driving her parents crazy with an unexpected love for country music and a four-year-long fascination with cowboys during her early teens.

  “They hated it. Every time they turned around I had some sort of rodeo on TV or, worse, line dancing. I thought my mother was going to send me off to some snotty prep school for sure.”

  “What made you give it up?” he asked, amused by the picture she painted.

  “My obsession turned to Eminem and rap music. All of a sudden, they were begging me to listen to country again. My mother went so far as to have the radio station in our home intercom- programmed to all country music. My dad took me to three rodeos that summer. He claimed it was a business thing, but I knew better. That was my one period of defiance against my parents. I grew out of it.” She leaned back with her wine and sighed. “I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.”

  “You did better than I expected.”

  “Is that your polite way of saying I ate like pig?” she asked, eyebrow raised in a perfect questioning arch.

  “Nope, not at all. It’s just nice to be with a woman who doesn’t pick at her food. We both know you had to be hungry. After all, you burned an abnormal number of calories in the past twenty-four hours.” He smiled at her, daring her to argue with him.

  “And I suppose we’ll be burning a few more tonight?” she asked without meeting his eyes.

  The hint of insecurity charmed him, and made him careful about what he was going to say next. He needed to choose his words wisely so as not to insult her.

  “Actually, I have a business trip I need to take over the next three days. But I was hoping you’d go to a party with me Friday night, if you’re free.”

  “Oh, I just assumed…” She waved her hand dismissively. “Anyway, of course. I would love to go with you.”

  He leaned in to her and nuzzled between those blonde waves framing her face and her ear, quickly turning out to be his favorite place, and whispered to her, “Plan to spend the night.” His lips trailed down to her neck, and he relished the way her pulse fluttered under his mouth.

  “I’ll do that,” she whispered.

  Chapter 9

  Beatrice’s week dragged. At least the third degree died with her mother and she didn’t have to lie to her father. He’d come home from an impromptu meeting at the office, in a mood and distracted. Her mother spent the night refilling his brandy snifter while listening to his endless complaining about ungrateful clients and entitlement.

  Now if her mother would stop with the looks and the snide comments about responsibility and duty, Beatrice might let her live. She’d never been downright hostile toward her mother before, but then, she had never noticed how her mother did nothing but try to steer her in the direction she thought Beatrice should go.

  Well, Beatrice had had her driver’s license for ten years now. She sure as hell would steer the ship in whatever direction she wanted to, thank you very much.

  Micah had kept in touch via text on his trip that she
later found out was to Chicago. The last night, seemingly desperate to hear her voice—at least, that’s what she had told herself —he called her.

  Maybe it was she who had needed to hear his.

  Now that they had found each other, just a few days apart left her out of sorts and wondering what to do with herself, because all she really wanted to do was be with him.

  Her mind niggled at her that maybe she should watch that. Going from mom and dad to latching onto a man might not be the best of ideas.

  But God, Micah wasn’t just a mere man. Had she gone from mom and dad to one of these pampered country club boys, it would have been far worse. At least with Micah she was reaching for something new, different, something that made her feel alive in every aspect of the word. There wasn’t a single sense that he didn’t tease and tantalize within her, and as much as that terrified her she was drawn to it like a moth to the flame.

  She stepped into an emerald green cocktail dress with lace sleeves and a skirt that fell to just above the knee. She tucked her hair into a loose chignon at the nape of her neck, and finished the look with diamond drop earrings. Grabbing her stilettos and her overnight bag, she made her way to the bottom of the stairs while she waited for the car Micah had sent.

  Her mother emerged just as the doorbell rang. “I didn’t know you were going out tonight.”

  Beatrice resisted the urge to roll her eyes like a petulant child. “I told you Wednesday that I was going out with Micah.”

  “I don’t recall that.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you would. It might mean you would have to acknowledge that there are men outside of your social circle, and your daughter might be interested in one.”

  Her mother crossed her arms. “That’s not fair. I mean, it’s not ideal, but I certainly can’t force you to date a suitable man.”

  “Why did you have me?” Beatrice asked. She hadn’t intended to get so confrontational, but once the words slipped out she couldn’t let it go.

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I mean just what I said, but since you seem to be confused let me be clearer. Was I just a means to an end for you and Daddy? Did you have me just so you could match me up one day with the right accessory to the family name? Because, I have to tell you, that’s what it’s beginning to feel like.” She slid the strap of her jewel-encrusted purse over her shoulder. Tucked away inside were her cell, lipstick, and some cash.

  “I don’t like what this man has done to you, Beatrice. Everything was going splendidly until he came along,” her mother said, mouth turned down in distaste.

  “It was going splendidly for you, until I woke up and realized that this is my life and the men in it are my decision. I don’t know how to help you come to terms with that, but you’re going to have to. Maybe I waited too long to take a stand, and that’s making it harder for you. But it doesn’t matter. I like Micah. I respect him. He treats me well. You should be happy about that.” She grabbed her jacket. “He certainly treats me far better than any of your friends’ sons ever did.”

  Micah’s car pulled up just as Beatrice stepped out the door, saving her from looking like an idiot standing on the front porch in the cold of January.

  The driver came to a smooth stop and walked around to open the door for her. “Good evening, Miss Beatrice.”

  “Hello. Where are we headed this evening?” Beatrice asked.

  “We’ll be meeting Mr. Alessi at The Cellar,” he answered.

  She slid into the back seat. “Isn’t that a gentleman’s club?” She seemed to remember her father going at one time or being a member. It had been so long that she couldn’t remember and, frankly, she’d never paid close attention to those matters.

  “It is, but there are exceptions. Tonight is a private party, Miss Beatrice.” He closed the door, and in moments they were pulling away from her home.

  The more miles between Rye and Beatrice, the more she relaxed, her shoulders no longer knotted and bunched up under her ears. She had stopped wringing her hands.

  The tension between her and her mother had taken a toll that she often didn’t recognize until she managed her escape.

  It was time for Beatrice to look for a place of her own.

  They arrived at The Cellar, a stately brick building in the heart of the Upper East Side. Seemed like Micah liked everything on the Upper East Side.

  He waited outside the door for her, and when the car rolled to a stop he was there with his hand on the handle. He opened the door and reached for her, guiding her out. “You are absolutely stunning,” he said with a big smile and a kiss to the back of her hand.

  She smoothed the lapel of his black suit. “You’re not looking so bad yourself. As much as I love seeing you in a suit, I’m more excited to see you out of it,” she said with a laugh. The last of the lingering effects of sparring with her mother drifted away the moment Micah took her hand in his.

  He led her through the heavy wooden doors and down a split staircase with brick-lined walls. The scent of cigars and liquor hung in the air. Laughter drifted to them from somewhere in the darkness. At the bottom of the stairs, a waiter greeted them. “Mr. Alessi, we have your table ready for you. Right this way.”

  She kept getting these glimpses of the kind of respect afforded to Micah, and it made her wonder just what kind of business he was in and how successful he was. So far, he had been treated with the same deference as the people in her life. She knew why they were catered to. They had money, lots of it, and had enjoyed wealth for generations. But Micah had been an orphan, he knew hunger, was raised by a grandmother who made him learn to cook, and who he tortured himself on ice skates for once a year. The respect given to him had been earned in adulthood, and had her wondering how he had gone from that kid to the man he was today.

  “You look lost in thought,” Micah said, taking her hand in his and kissing the soft skin along the side of her thumb.

  “I’m wondering how you became you. You’re a self-made man and I’m impressed. I’d love to hear how you did it.”

  His eyes clouded over but with a few blinks they were clear again, and she wondered if maybe she had just imagined it.

  “I had to do things I’m not so proud of to get where I am. My business is legitimate, but the risks I took to obtain the money to begin with is another matter,” he said.

  The beat of her heart kicked up. “Was it illegal?”

  He pinned her with his stare. “The things I did at first, yes.”

  She didn’t know what to do with that. She knew in her heart of hearts he was a good man. She’d never believe otherwise. “Can you get in trouble for it now?”

  He laughed. “No. It’s not like I murdered anyone, Beatrice.”

  Boisterous laughter became louder. “So, Mr. Legitimate Business Guru, what are we doing here tonight?”

  “We’re here to see and be seen. Investment opportunities are in the air, and deals are made with a handshake on nights like these. I lost my last deal, a deal I had already been given a commitment on when trusting someone’s word, when that person came in here and handed my deal to his longtime friend. It won’t happen again.”

  A woman bumped against their table as she came from down the hall, a man’s arm around her possessively. He pinned her against the wall under the sconce and kissed her, his hand kneading her breast.

  Beatrice scooted her chair over and glanced up just as the man pulled away.

  Anger and mortification teamed up and wrapped their fingers around her throat, squeezing out any chance of getting air. Dizziness assaulted her, the din from the patrons sounding as though it traveled through a tunnel. She pushed away from the table, the urge to flee taking over.

  Her father. The man she had looked up to. The man she’d respected for his continued hard work and dedication to his family.

  The man feeling up some bimbo against the wall in The Cellar.

  She ran back out the way they came, Micah calling to her as she hurried up the stairs.


  “Beatrice, wait!” he yelled.

  “I have to get out of here!”

  “It’s okay, we can go. Just tell me what happened.”

  “My father. The guy with that woman against the wall was my father.” The words came out on a wheeze as her ability to speak practically vanished under sheer panic.

  Did he see her as she ran away? How was she going to tell her mother? Was she supposed to even tell her mother? Maybe her mother knew. Oh, God…if her mother knew.

  Her life felt like a trip through a funhouse, with secret passages, wrong turns, dead ends, and mirrors that distorted everything.

  Micah wrapped her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Shh, it’s going to be okay.”

  “How could he? All the times I had to be careful what I said, what I did, just so I wouldn’t shame them, and he’s here, groping this woman, and he’s laughing about it.”

  Tears welled up, but she refused to let them fall. She called on all those years of tempering her emotions, and mustered up the willpower to hold herself in check.

  Micah’s driver drove up and Micah ushered her into the back seat, where he pulled her into his arms.

  She hugged his middle and burrowed in, keeping her eyes squeezed tight, not that she could shut out what she had seen. It was a part of her now. A crack in her foundation that couldn’t be repaired.

  How would she face her mother when she went home?

  The car ride took less than ten minutes. Micah dealing with the keypad, the elevator ride, and entering his penthouse all went by in a blur as the implications of what this could mean for her weighed heavy in her mind.

  He ducked into the kitchen, leaving her standing there, her arms wrapped around herself, as if by sheer force she could keep the broken parts of her from flying apart.

  “Here. Drink this,” he said, handing her a highball glass with amber liquid in it.

  She brought the glass to her lips and tipped back the biting liquid. It burned a trail down her throat, and within seconds her belly warmed.

  She handed him the glass with shaking hands. “Thank you.”

  “Now we need to talk,” he said, leading her into the living room.