by Diana Seere
The sound of his own blood pumping through his heart took on greater urgency, claiming more of his attention than it should. A sudden image of Lilah pierced his thoughts. He’d spent the better part of these last few days actively trying not to think about her. Asher’s words haunted him.
Marrying a full human is pure folly.
Asher had married Claire. They had conceived a baby, the fruits of her womb growing from their love. The Change had been imminent for Claire. With well-matched couples, a shifter male breeding with a human female could produce the same blood rite as a born shifter—the only known method for a human to join their kind. It was never certain, however, if such a change would succeed.
Indeed, pregnancy had begun to transform Claire, making her one of them, but she had died before that transition had completed, during childbirth. The babe had died too, taking Asher’s heart with it.
Gavin wondered what a baby he and Lilah made would look like. Oh, that long, thick blonde hair. Those dark eyes. He could imagine a tiny princess with hair spun from flax, with bright blue eyes like his. A dark-haired boy with an impish smile and brown eyes the color of rich oak.
A pang of loneliness and need resonated within him.
Lilah.
Her.
As he approached the bank of elevators, he stopped, buttoning his suit jacket, straightening his shirt cuffs.
He really was going quite mad.
Tonight was all business, and nothing but business. He would smile, press the flesh, pretend he cared about silly details and small talk. All the while he would read nonverbal signals, collect information, plant suggestions and seed his future business prospects.
Distractions like Lilah, the throbbing deep in his core that was ever-increasing, were a nuisance. He caught his own reflection in the shined stainless steel of the elevator doors.
Dark blonde hair, grown out to the collar, well styled and out of his eyes. Blue eyes framed by lashes his mother had once declared, “too delicious by far for a man to possess.” A cashmere suit, cut to fit by his fine bespoke tailor in London. Cuff links passed down from four generations, small gold nuggets unrefined, made from the first gold vein his maternal ancestors had plundered in the 1840s in California.
Time had been good to the Stanton family. When investments could be measured by decades and centuries, the wealth had grown. As a “thirtysomething” billionaire bachelor, Gavin’s quick rise to fame had come from his own investments. His family fortune gave him the seed money, though.
Asher had cut that off when Gavin made his first billion.
The doors began to open, and his self-evaluation came to a halt. He despised being enclosed in an elevator with a crowd, and he could hear loud voices emerging from inside. Impulsively, he turned on his heel and headed through a side door to a lesser-known elevator that he (and his Novo brethren) preferred. He stepped in, pressed the floor button, and tried to quell the deep pulse his body had become.
The elevator rose in time with his heartbeat. Except this pounding, this Beat, was deeper and filled his entire body.
Ding! The doors parted, dim light filtering in from the space opening, and the figure of a woman came to him inches at a time, the light behind her ethereal and heavenly, as if she were an angel. Blonde hair pulled back at the nape of her neck, a form-fitting wrap dress that framed an hourglass figure, and as microseconds passed and he looked from knee to breasts to neck to face, instinct caught him faster than vision, for as she turned and looked at the elevator floor buttons, he reached out, grabbed her arm, and pulled her to him.
Lilah.
It was Lilah.
“What are you doing?” she said in a squeaky voice, wiggling the arm he held in a vise grip, struggling against him as the doors closed and the elevator continued its ascent as if the world had not just tilted on its axis.
“Lilah,” he said. It was, indeed, the only word he knew.
“You!” Her voice shifted down to a lower register, the outraged tone gone as their eyes met. Her breath came in gasps, chest heaving. Her face began to flush as she blinked, eyes combing over him with an expression of wonder and desire. “You’re here? Who are you?”
His hungry hands slipped around her waist and pulled him to her, mouth taking hers without comment, without permission. She yielded under him, hands flat against his chest in momentary protest, her mouth responding to his, warm and inviting.
He would have stopped at the kiss if she’d said no. Thankfully, he did not have to stop.
Oh, the pleasure of touching her. The smooth feel of fabric heated by her generous breasts, the taper to waist and the cling of his skin to hips made to hang on to while in her. His tongue traced hers, dancing with urgency, his hands groping now without plan, without respect, his ability to be gentle and tender dashed, now that he finally had her.
Her.
She broke the kiss with force, her breath sweet against his nose, her earlobe daring him for a lick.
“What are you doing? I don’t even know your name!” she protested. Those eyes, though. Liquid pools begging for more.
He stroked the pale flesh of her neck with his thumb, then pushed her against the elevator wall, mouth slanting over hers for another kiss, the hot, wet connection the only way he could exist. Every heartbeat he wasn’t inside her was agony. Each second they kissed felt like an eternity.
Pulling back, he whispered, “Gavin. Gavin Stanton,” then resumed the only language they needed, mouths and hands substituting for words.
Her legs parted as he pushed them with one knee, the skirt riding up her lush thighs, his lips demanding more from her than a mere mouth could give. She moaned, a tiny sound from the back of her throat that pierced his heart and cock. In that very moment, Gavin abandoned all pretense of being a gentleman.
Of being anything but a pure animal.
She was supposed to say ‘no.’
She was supposed to push him away.
She was supposed to hit the red “emergency” button and make him stop.
Instead, she pushed her hips against his raging-hard cock and parted her lips, begging for the taste of him. His hands were hot and smooth, hard and raking, touching her body like he was falling and she alone could save him.
Gavin. Gavin Stanton. In the back of her mind a dim recognition rang a bell, but the throbbing of her clit drowned it out. A frantic urgency pushed to the surface as his palm reached down the front of her corset and cupped one overflowing breast, yanking it right out, his mouth warm and teasing on her nipple, making her moan.
I hope there aren’t cameras in here, she thought. And then suddenly, she didn’t care. That mouth, those hands, the scent of something wild and untamed in his skin took over her thinking mind. Pushed aside by something feral, she gave in to the craving for him.
Him.
Mine.
His voice mingled with hers in her head. Impossible, she thought dimly as his hand traveled up the soft contour of her inner thigh, fingers deft and knowing. Her mouth crashed against his as she gave a cry of relief when his fingers found the spot she needed him to find. Lilah’s hearing changed, blood pushing through her veins so fast she heard a low hum, like an oboe beginning to play a long, slow note. A prelude to an orchestra.
The beginning that leads to an explosive finale.
Just as Lilah was on the verge of telling Mr. Gavin Stanton that he could have her right here, right now, if only he would hurry and tear off her clothes and make the agonizing craving stop as soon as possible, he pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice ragged. He rubbed his mouth with both hands, taking a step back, watching her with the piercing blue eyes she remembered from the first time she’d seen him. That perfect British accent made her wet and even hotter, if that was possible. She was panting like she was an animal in heat.
He adjusted his suit jacket and drew up to his full height, which was considerable. “That was inexcusable. I’ll understand if you call the police.”
She lunged at him
, one knee between his, her teeth biting his lower lip and catching thick stubble. He groaned against her mouth, the sound untamed and untethered. His own lips captured hers and soon he sucked on her upper lip as his fingers found her slick heat again, thumb circling her clit as his mouth gave her a preview of what he wished to do between her legs.
She pulled at his collar and opened his tie, the top button, the second, her mouth on the strong, musky flesh above his collarbone. She bit as she ground against his hand, her pussy billowing and opening to him, the crest of orgasm so close, so close.
“Lilah,” he murmured, shifting her leg so it rubbed up against his impossibly thick shaft. Her mouth craved it, wanted to suck him, to have that power. But her thoughts shattered as his muscles swelled and she swore he grew. Expanded. Teemed with animal lust as their breath quickened and her hands reached for his chest, finding thick hair and impossibly heavy angles.
The pounding of her heart was almost as loud as his voice. She touched her swollen mouth with the tips of her fingers and ignored his offer to stop.
“What’s happening to us?” she whispered, speaking to him as if they knew each other. As if she had the right to cut to the chase.
As if he felt it too.
At that exact moment, the elevator jerked to a stop and the doors began sliding apart. Lilah quickly turned away from Gavin—his name is Gavin—and tugged down her dress, avoiding his eyes. Luckily, the fabric had clung to the corset, and she seemed to be fairly intact.
On the outside, anyway.
The doors opened fully onto a simple hallway decorated in shades of silver. In front of a pair of ebony swinging doors stood a striking, statuesque fiftysomething woman in a cobalt-blue pantsuit, texting on her phone. When she looked up and saw both Lilah and Gavin in the elevator car, she merely smiled politely and reached out to the door to hold it open. “Hello, Lilah. I’m Eva,” she said. “Welcome to the Platinum Club.”
Chapter 5
Lilah strode out of the car, as much in a hurry to get away from the man behind her as she was to see the legendary club where she was the newest hire.
I hope I don’t smell like sex.
“Will you be coming into the club tonight, Mr. Stanton?” Eva asked, still holding the door.
Gavin kept his gaze fixed on a spot to the left of the older woman as he followed Lilah off the elevator, as if he were avoiding her eyes too. “Yes, Eva. Bit of a work party tonight, I’m afraid.”
His voice sounded lower. Deeper. More like whisky poured over gravel. His fingers stretched as if they ached. The bones of his face seemed...broader? Her eyes swam. She blinked a few times, then realized he was back to normal.
She really was losing it.
“You know what they say, Mr. Stanton.” Eva turned to face the swinging black doors. “All work and no play.”
A dangerous grin split his features. “Come now, Eva,” he said. “Are you saying I’m a dull boy?” He still would not look at her directly.
“Of course not, sir,” Eva replied. “I wouldn’t want to get dismissed.”
“That’s right. Terrible customer service to insult one of the members.”
“Unless you wanted to be dull,” Lilah blurted out.
Both of them stopped walking and stared at her. She felt her face burn, but she continued. “In which case...” Oh God, why had she opened her mouth? This was no time to try to be funny. “Being told you’re all work and no play would be a compliment.”
“I’m not all work.” His voice had dropped an octave. He touched his lips with one hand. The same hand that had touched her there.
To her relief, Eva put an arm through hers and patted the back of her hand. “Of course not, Mr. Stanton. And I’m sure you won’t mind if I steal Lilah away for her orientation, since she’s just agreed to work at the club as our newest waitress.”
Now Gavin looked at Lilah, inflicting her with that wicked smile. She felt it slide down her spine like warm, hungry lips.
Like in the elevator.
“What excellent judgment you have, as usual, Eva.” Then he brushed past Lilah, ducking his head slightly as he passed. “I’ll see you inside.” His breath tickled her ear like another kiss.
He walked through the doorway and out of sight. The sounds of acoustic guitar and muffled conversation poured through the swinging doors as her eyes followed every second he was in range and even a few seconds afterward.
“Molly did a lovely job with your outfit,” Eva said. “Are your shoes all right? You’ll be on your feet for the next eight hours. Gorgeous doesn’t mean a thing if you’re hurting.”
“They’re really comfortable, actually.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Perhaps Molly can find me a similar pair. In blue, of course.” Smiling, she smoothed her hand over her suit jacket. “All right, I think you’ve had enough time to get over your nerves. Let’s go in. There’s a party for Mr. Stanton, but we already have extra staff serving those guests, so we don’t have to worry about them. Your job today is to learn. Just learn. First I’ll take you on a tour of the other areas on this floor.”
She escorted Lilah down a long hallway and through a series of doors into a room that was like the lobby of a fine hotel. Expensive but inviting furniture was clustered in small seating areas throughout. The music she’d heard was coming from a man playing near an indoor waterfall that seemed to be flowing over the panoramic windows overlooking the city. It gave the room the impression of being underwater in a magical world.
They passed through this room into a darker, more crowded area filled with overstuffed chairs and sofas upholstered in velvet. A bar stretched across the far end. Several women about her age in similarly sexy dresses walked around carrying trays with drinks and food.
Eva led her through this room and into another. This next one was cavernous, with arching windows that stretched up three stories and a vast, empty floor that made her think of waltzing.
“Drink station is over there. The service elevator that brought you here is right behind it. Carl is working the bar for you,” Eva explained, introducing Lilah to a bright-eyed, overly solicitous man who looked like he could be eighteen or thirty.
Brown hair, brown eyes, and a Ricky Martin vibe that made Lilah smile back when he extended his hand, looked her up and down and declared, “I wish I could work a corset and dress like that.” Carl looked down at her feet and gasped. “There’s hope for me yet!”
Puzzled, Lilah shook his hand and asked, “What do you mean?”
“If someone makes sexy heels in your size, I might have a fighting chance,” he replied in a conspirator’s tone. Lilah was too charmed to be offended.
Eva smiled politely through the exchange, then winked at Carl. “You’ll show Lilah the ropes?”
“I’ll show Lilah how we take care of our fine patrons, Ms. Eva.” Carl made a very discrete kiss in Eva’s direction as she moved away from them. Eva didn’t appear to walk. She glided from person to person, always in control.
“I know,” Carl began, “that you are freaking out on the inside. We all do our first few days. You can’t believe you’re making this kind of money, and you’re terrified you’ll screw it all up.”
“Yes!” Lilah whispered, finally exhaling. A bad case of the nerves made her forget to breathe.
“Don’t worry. As long as you’re discreet, you’ll be fine.”
“After signing all those nondisclosure agreements and confidentiality statements, I won’t say a word. I’m scared stiff.”
He laughed, flashing her a smile so white it had to come from a tube. “Good. You’ll do well. You’re gorgeous, smart, and you have great shoes. What else do you need to know to work here?”
“Um, where the drinks are.”
He held out his hands like a magician’s. “That is where I come in.”
For the next hour, Lilah tried desperately not to think about Gavin Stanton. Carl made it easier than she’d have thought. Between learning which trays went with which drinks,
how to understand the boundaries of her section of the floor, and all the rules of the bar, she didn’t have much space in her head.
The Platinum Club operated under a set of rules that were so different from any bar or restaurant she had ever worked in. This was like culture shock. No money changed hands. Ever. There were no tips. No bills. No tabs. All the money was handled behind the scenes. Lilah didn’t even need to keep track of billing drinks to each member.
All the servers were expected to do was take the order, deliver the order, and stick to Rule Number One: the members’ needs must be met.
Lilah bit her inner lip at the memory of how she’d almost met one very big need of Gavin Stanton’s.
“You all right? Overwhelmed?” Carl asked as he finished explaining the nicknames for some of their liquor. There was no top shelf here, like in other bars.
It was all top shelf.
Lilah’s mind was spinning. Her pay alone was more than most of her computer science major friends in college. They’d expected to start at near-six-figure salaries. Lilah was making piles of money to just take a drink order and deliver it?
What was the catch?
“I don’t understand this place,” Lilah confessed. “It just seems too easy.”
Carl’s eyes clouded a bit with an emotion Lilah didn’t understand. “Let’s put it this way, Lilah. This is an easy job. But it’s the hardest easy job you’ll ever have. Staying quiet is your job. Remember that, and you’ll be fine.”
She just nodded.
Ding! An elevator arrived filled with people talking, business terms flying fast and furious among the small group.
Carl’s eyebrows waggled. “Let’s get this party started. You ready for showtime?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, and one more thing.” Carl’s face went from playful to dead serious. “Don’t ever sleep with any club members.”
“What?” Lilah’s face flushed at his words. Was it that obvious what had happened with Gavin in the elevator?
“You heard me.” He leaned in and looked around. Lilah had the creeping suspicion he was looking for Eva. “Grounds for termination. Immediate dismissal.”
