by Lea Griffith
She needed a drink.
Maybe three.
Chapter 15
Copeland noticed her the moment she walked into the ballroom. His breath stilled while everything else faded away. She was smiling up at some man who’d grabbed her arm the minute she’d come into the room, and Copeland irrationally wanted to rearrange the man’s face. Possibly break a few bones with his hands.
How dare he touch what belonged to Copeland?
“What’s the matter, lover?”
His desire died a cold, hard death. The taste in his mouth was reduced to ashes instead of the phantom taste of Daly’s skin. He glanced dismissively at the woman beside him and didn’t answer.
“Seriously, Copeland, you’re going to have to play better than this if you want folks to think we’re together,” Detective Savannah Cavanaugh whispered.
She was right. He’d come here tonight, with her, for one reason. Exposure. Toby had gathered some interesting facts about the call placed to the police the other night. The call had originated from Copeland’ brother’s house. David vehemently denied being the caller, which meant someone had made a call from his house hoping to have the trail lead back there. Whoever it was had also known Daly was at the club that night.
Someone was trying to use David and Daly as a means of getting to him. Copeland had stayed away from Daly the last few days, trying to gather more information and give the impression she meant nothing to him.
He’d gone so far as contacting Savvy Cavanaugh, and she’d agreed to look into it. Tonight, Savvy was a means to an end, but Copeland had to at least act like he enjoyed being with her.
He hoped like hell David would have him some answers this weekend at the lake house but until then, Copeland needed to perpetuate a certain façade.
And that façade didn’t include the woman who had yet to notice him. His hands fisted as rage moved through him. The man was talking animatedly to her, hand on her elbow and eyes dipping to her cleavage.
Nobody had the right to look at her but Copeland. It was unrealistic but nonetheless true. Of course men would vie for her attention. She was a beautiful woman.
Her skin glowed and that little black dress she wore fit her perfectly. Off the shoulder, it cupped her breasts lovingly before slimming along her waist and flaring out in a flirty skirt that ended above her knees. Five would get Copeland ten that she was wearing thigh-highs. His back teeth ground together.
“Are you growling?” Savvy asked. Her face expressed concern; the tone of her voice, disbelief.
Copeland cleared his throat. He hadn’t touched Daly in three fucking days. Jacking off to thoughts of the woman who completed him had done nothing to abate his lust. If he made it through tonight it would be a goddamn miracle.
“Seriously, Copeland. You’ve got to stop staring at her like a lovesick puppy. The wrong person sees you and she could be right back in the middle of this,” Savvy said with annoyance.
He glanced back down at the woman taking him to task and smiled. It was probably more a baring of his teeth, but it couldn’t be helped. She wasn’t the one he wanted to have his arm around. “I’m good, Savvy. Drop it.”
Savannah Cavanaugh had once been a submissive he played. She occasionally visited The Underground looking for part-time play with Dominants. She was also a cop. He had availed himself of her a few times after Daly left him. He’d also made the mistake one night of pouring out his heart to her in a drunken stupor and she’d never let him forget it.
Earlier tonight she’d given him some pretty fucking interesting information. Tapping one of her street informants, she’d discovered that someone was looking to take down Jeremiah Copeland and was willing to pay through the nose to do it. Copeland had put two and two together and come up with four. It made this business with Savvy tonight difficult but necessary.
He hadn’t seen or spoken to Daly in three days. Three. Fucking. Days. And he had to see her here and act like she meant nothing to him. Toby was a master at establishing connections and ferreting out information. He was on the trail of whatever was going on. There were a few pieces to the puzzle, but not enough yet to form a picture. No one had made a direct play against Daly, so she seemed to be relatively safe; still, Copeland had someone watching her twenty-four/seven just to be sure.
No, Copeland was the objective, the one they wanted out of the picture. They were willing to use Daly and apparently David to see that happen, though Copeland felt confident they weren’t in any immediate danger. This reeked of something very personal. His hand clenched as anger stole through him.
His brother knew something and Copeland would find out exactly what this weekend. But in order to make sure his woman remained safe, he’d gone along with Savvy’s plan. Someone tapped a champagne glass, and the tinkle had everyone’s heads turning to the podium set up onstage at the back of the ballroom. The Honorable Heyward Edwards stood there, his gray hair perfectly coiffed, tanned skin glowing, and his brand-new trophy wife beside him.
“Don’t look over at Daly, Copeland,” Savvy warned out of the side of her mouth.
Copeland stopped himself from doing just that. Barely.
“I’m so glad the Department of Family and Children’s Services and the Department of Juvenile Justice are here tonight,” Judge Edwards said in a deep, booming voice. “Many of Atlanta’s children need your support, and so I’m here to officially ask you to open your hearts,” he paused for effect, “and your wallets, for Atlanta’s endangered children.”
Applause erupted around the ballroom.
“And there’s my lovely daughter,” he said with a cheesy grin. “Come on up here, Dalia, and share a little bit about the mentor program you’ve recently begun.” He held out his hand.
“Like father like daughter, I wonder?” Savvy whispered.
Copeland could no more stop from seeking her out than he could stop breathing. She was the brightest thing in the ballroom even though her dress was black. The lights picked up subtle sparkles embedded in the fabric, but she shone even more brightly. Her long brown hair was pin-straight and fell in a lush curtain down her back. He’d had those locks wrapped around his fist the other night as she’d sucked his cock.
He drew in a deep breath, and Savvy looked up at him with a question in her gaze. He ignored her and looked back at Daly. Her face was tight, but she persevered and forced a smile even as she refused to take her father’s hand.
His woman was so damn strong.
Her father’s face didn’t betray what Copeland knew had to be a shitload of anger at her refusal. He just continued to smile and clap his hands as his gorgeous daughter addressed the crowd.
“As Judge Edwards said, Atlanta’s children do need you to open your hearts and wallets, ladies and gentlemen. The Juvenile Justice Department along with the Department of Family and Children’s Services are co-sponsoring an agenda called Jeremiah’s Program.”
Her words kicked Copeland in the gut. Tingles started at the base of his spine and worked their way up, tightening his scalp.
“This program is a mentor program, specifically designed to pull in children off the street, get them into schools and possibly homes, and give them an opportunity to succeed.” Her gaze moved over the crowd, seeming to touch on every single person until she came to Copeland.
Surprise flared and he held her gaze, refusing to relinquish it as his mind shouted silently for her to continue looking at only him. Her gaze flitted to the woman beside him and her face tightened.
She recovered within the span of a few seconds and licked her lips before she nodded at him. She was pissed. It was written in the thinning of her lips and the flatness of her gaze. Copeland wondered if it was because he hadn’t contacted her or because he was standing beside Savannah Cavanaugh.
“I’m sure there is a more in-depth outline of the program and how you can individually help sponsor in the handout you’ll each receive as you leave, but it is my goal as the program’s ideological head to give children hope. Bec
ause if there is one thing every child needs, it’s hope.”
The crowd clapped and Daly stepped down, making a beeline for the exit. Copeland prayed that people waylaid her long enough for him to get to her. At that moment, nothing mattered but her knowing he wasn’t there with Savvy.
“Don’t tell her, Copeland. She could unknowingly give whoever is doing this information,” Savvy said.
Copeland’s mind halted. He couldn’t tell her. He didn’t even know what this was. And once again it was three years ago. He hadn’t been able to tell her the truth then and he couldn’t tell her now. He hadn’t had time to re-cement their bond. She would never step out on a limb and trust him now. Would she?
Maybe he had loved her hard enough that all hope wasn’t lost.
“I’ve got to talk to her, Savvy. She’s hurting,” he ground out.
“Give it some time. An hour or so. Not right now. Everyone is watching, and some of these people know your history, J.C. Remember that,” she warned him.
Copeland took a deep breath and nodded. She was right. He hated it, but he had to give Daly time to circulate. He’d get her alone somehow tonight and then he’d …
“Why are you here, Copeland?” Judge Edwards’s voice was filled with loathing.
Copeland turned to the man who had destroyed his world and raised an eyebrow. “Not a very warm welcome, Heyward, for one of the city’s most generous benefactors.”
The man’s face turned red under his golden tan. “My daughter is here.”
Copeland allowed a lazy grin to cross his face. “I noticed.”
“You bastard! You’re trash. Leave my daughter alo—”
“Well now, Judge Edwards, don’t go getting all upset on my behalf. I’m a big girl now and we’re not here to argue. We’re here to raise money. Detective Cavanaugh,” Daly said, holding out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Savvy shook her hand and then stepped closer to Copeland. Daly’s face did that tightening thing again before it smoothed out.
“Stay away from him, Dalia,” her father warned.
Daly turned her gaze to her father. Jeremiah felt the tension snake between them. His woman never once looked at him, just kept her attention focused on the judge.
“Judge Edwards, I think I saw Harlon Capshaw over at the bar. Perhaps you should go catch up. He’d be a wonderful addition to the Juvenile Justice board,” Daly encouraged in a low tone.
Her father’s face relaxed and he straightened his tuxedo. “I’ll do that very thing,” he said as he leaned down to kiss his daughter on the cheek.
Daly subtly avoided the peck and patted him on the arm. “Thank you, Judge.”
They all watched the other man walk away and Daly took a deep breath. The action pressed her breasts upward, and Copeland’s dick went rock hard. Again. Her scent taunted him, something exotic but soft. He wondered if she still dabbed perfume behind her ears and knees.
“Nice of you to come out tonight,” Daly said softly as she glanced up at him.
He nodded. It was all he could do. Her gaze had stolen his mind. Pain. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg her to forgive him. Yet this was all for her. He’d protect her with his last breath. Even if it ripped his heart out to do so.
“Well, of course we’d be here,” Savvy said with a smile. “After all, the program is named after Jeremiah, isn’t it?”
Copeland glanced at Savvy and wanted to tape her mouth shut. What was her endgame?
Daly shook her head. “I actually named it after a friend I knew way back when. He was a strong man, willing to fight to overcome his past. He never gave up.” She gave him the full force of her gaze then and his chest went hot. “Until one day he did.”
“Ahhh, that’s right, you two have a history,” Savvy responded with a heavy sigh as she threaded her arm through Copeland’s. “Well, whatever the case, I hope you raise a lot of money for the kids of Atlanta.”
Daly inclined her head. Someone called her name and she turned away from them, not looking again at Copeland.
“What the fuck was that about?” Copeland asked.
“You should really leave that woman alone. The judge has a hard-on for you and you just keep breaking her heart. It’s kinda pathetic, J.C.”
A waiter stopped by them and Copeland grabbed a drink off the tray he was holding. “Sir, that’s not—”
Copeland downed it in one swallow. Whiskey neat. He relished the burn and set the glass back on the tray. “Thanks. Another, please?”
The waiter nodded and set off.
Copeland turned to Savvy. “Don’t you ever try to hurt or embarrass her again.”
Savvy pressed against him playfully. “Yeah? Whatcha gonna do to me if I do that to her?”
Copeland felt someone’s gaze and he unerringly found the source. Daly was staring at him across the ballroom. Her distress communicated easily—it was no less than what he was feeling.
“You don’t want to know, Detective Cavanaugh. Believe me,” he bit out and walked to the bar.
An hour passed as Copeland played with a beer from his perch at the bar. He’d watched Daly flirt, schmooze, and work the crowd, most especially every old man in the ballroom. No doubt her program had raised bucket loads of money tonight. The younger men attempted to get close to her but she always politely deferred their attention elsewhere.
Good thing for the men and her. Every single dominant instinct in Copeland clamored for him to grasp his woman, take her home, and fuck her until all she saw, all she knew, was him. The only thing that kept him sane during that hour was the fact that someone was willing to use her to hurt him.
That was unacceptable. But he had to get his hands on her. He had to remind her that he owned her and she had all of him. And he knew exactly how he was going to do it.
* * *
Her chest hurt. More specifically, her heart. How she’d managed to keep from flying into tiny little pieces when she’d seen Jeremiah with Detective Cavanaugh she’d never know. But she had, and now she needed a break from the press of the crowd in the ballroom.
He’d looked so damn good standing there, eyebrow raised, hand around another woman’s waist. His pinstriped suit, crisp white shirt, and pink tie had been a great big “fuck you” to the older gentlemen in tuxes. Jeremiah made everything he wore look better than any other man’s finest. Her eyes watered and she sniffed, determined not to cry. Not here.
She headed up the main staircase that overlooked the ballroom, intent on finding a secluded alcove in the library, when a door to her right opened and she was pulled into a tiny room.
“What the—”
Her words were cut off by his mouth. A split second before his lips landed over hers she’d smelled the quintessential scent that was Jeremiah’s alone. Then his tongue dove deep into her mouth and all thought fled in place of heat and need.
He left no part of her mouth untouched. He sipped at her lips and dueled with her tongue. His hands curled in her hair, holding her still and turning her head the exact way he needed it to take her over the edge. Jeremiah pushed her against the wall at her back, and it was smooth and cold on her flesh.
A window? A mirror?
The kiss of icy glass in contrast to his heat startled her, dissipating the warmth and ushering in reality. She pushed at his shoulders. “What are you doing, Jeremiah?”
There was no light save the bleak glow of the room beyond them. She turned her head and stared out over the assembled guests in the ballroom below. Desire curled in her gut.
“We aren’t doing this here,” she bit out.
“We’ll do it wherever the fuck I say we’ll do it,” he growled in her ear before he bit delicately on her lobe and turned her to face the glass. “Do you understand?”
“I’m not fucking you in a closet,” she whispered. Excitement joined the desire and her nipples beaded around her piercings as she went wet between her thighs.
He raised her skirt, big hands kneading her ass before he
slapped first one cheek and then the other. Hard.
The sting was immediate, the burn afterward so fucking hot her eyes crossed.
“You’ll fuck me wherever I say you will.”
Every word had intent and excited her.
“No, Jeremiah. Three days, no call, and you’re here with another woman?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“No, Day. I’m here with you,” he responded in a lust-roughened voice.
“You have to explain this, Jere—”
His hand dipped and a single finger dove beneath the lace of her thong, taking her mind. He stroked over her clit and then delved between her nether lips, slowly circling her flesh. He pulled his hand away and she heard him lick his finger. “It’s only ever you, Day. My beginning and my end, my everything.”
Her knees weakened and she almost fell, but he used his lower body to press her against the glass at her front.
He grunted. “Goddamn, you taste good. I think your disobedience makes you even sweeter.”
She moaned then, wishing she could hold it in but simply unable to do so. He took her mind when he controlled her body. Everything else faded but the need to please him and have him return the favor.
He quite simply owned her.
She felt him unzip the back of the dress. “Put your hands on the glass,” he ordered.
When she hesitated, he reached around, pushed the top of her dress lower, and pinched one of her nipples. She hissed in a breath. “Fuck you.”
“That’s the idea, Day. Now put your hands on the glass.”
She did, and he rewarded her with another short, swift spank on her ass. She burned again where his hand left its imprint. She’d kill to see the marks. But it was dark save the meager light streaming in from the room outside. Daly wished she could watch their coupling.
Her breathing ratcheted up at the thought that maybe the people below could see them.
