Naughty or Nice

by Rachael Stewart

  Even her voice is exotic, captivating. She smiles at me, her eyes alive with appreciation, and I feel my heart stutter, confusion hot on its tail. She takes my hand and shakes it softly, her delicate perfume wafting up to me, and suddenly I feel dizzy.

  ‘I have been so eager to meet you.’

  ‘You have?’ I retract my hand, my frown impossible to prevent.

  ‘Yes, of course—to work with you would be such a pleasure.’

  ‘Go easy, Maylene, she hasn’t agreed yet.’

  My eyes dart between them both, my brain too slow to play catch-up.

  ‘Sorry...’ Lucas says, gesturing between the goddess and I. ‘Eva, this is Maylene—she heads up operations for me out here. And, as Maylene says, she knows exactly who you are.’

  He smiles at me, so proud, and I feel it all the way to my toes. As well as feeling the wash of shame at how quick I’d been to misjudge the situation.

  His brows draw together and I know he’s reading me. Reading my faux pas. I need to cover it. Quick.

  ‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ I say. And now I need to leave, before I humiliate myself further.

  My eyes drop to the box in her hands and up close I can spot the famous Fortnum & Mason label, see a glimpse of mince pies through the clear square on its top.

  ‘Mince pies?’ I’m so surprised it just comes out.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ she coos. ‘You can get them here, but it’s never the same. It’s my naughty indulgence—we can’t be good all the time, hey?’

  She winks at me and my cheeks flare. My ‘naughty indulgence’ is currently looking at me as if I’m the most intriguing specimen he’s ever seen.

  ‘I’ll let you get on.’

  ‘No, wait.’ She looks to Lucas. ‘It seems a little unfair that we go and enjoy the best curry Singapore has to offer and leave Evangeline to do her own thing.’

  ‘I don’t want to bore her with work, and she’s supposed to be resting,’ says Lucas.

  Maylene rolls her eyes at me. ‘And who are you? Her mother?’

  I laugh. I like her. ‘I’m so glad you said that.’

  Lucas looks to us both. ‘If you’re going to gang up on me, I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘I have a feeling we’d get along fine without you,’ I tease him. ‘And, as it happens, I love curry.’

  We look at him pointedly and then it occurs to me that maybe he doesn’t want to discuss work in front of an outsider.

  I forget my teasing for a moment. ‘Unless you need to talk in confidence?’

  Maylene waits for Lucas to reply and he gives a shrug. ‘I guess you’re here to see how we operate, so it can’t hurt for you to sit in.’

  ‘Great!’ we say in unison, and her friendliness and Lucas’s easy inclusion of me buries the dregs of my embarrassment and we head out into the evening.

  A car is waiting for us. Of course it is. Like everything with Lucas, it’s slick and high-end.

  And I am totally swept up in it. In him.

  If I really concentrated I’d hear my phone vibrating, my watch attacking my wrist with an incoming call. I’d also hear my eighteen-year-old self trying to issue warning after warning.

  Don’t get in too deep. Not yet.

  But I’m having too much fun.

  * * *

  The food was good. The company exceptional.

  Maylene and Eva hit it off. It’s no surprise. They’re both intelligent women with personalities to match. And, of course, when they’re together they can unite and rib me better. Better for them.

  It’s late when we get back. As the lift doors open into my suite Eva’s already sweeping forward, confident in the new space—not like when we first arrived and she followed in my shadow.

  She turns to face me now, her smile wide, her eyes alive, and she waves a hand at the exposed garage that’s lit with LED spots from the floor. It’s flash, but I love it.

  And I know she does too.

  Eva has always loved her cars. One type in particular. And I know it’s drawing her eye now...

  ‘That is impressive.’

  ‘Are we talking about the feat of engineering required to get them up here or the cars themselves?’

  ‘Both.’ She beams. ‘How do you get in?’

  A few taps to my phone and the glass door slides up.

  ‘No way.’

  And here I go again. Impressing her. Getting high on it.

  She glides forward, her touch delicate as she strokes the red bonnet of my Ferrari. Normally I’d cringe—and if she was any normal woman I would—but I know Eva and I know she loves this particular car. I knew it when I bought it, and think of her every time I get in it. Maybe I’ve always secretly dreamed of this moment.

  ‘Trust you to own one.’

  She looks at me over the hood and tests the door handle. It opens, and she gives a giddy squeal before she drops inside. I’m grinning like a fool as I watch her, but there’s no stopping it.

  She settles herself in, her hands flexing around the wheel, and I join her, climbing into the passenger seat.

  ‘It’s no ordinary Ferrari, is it?’ she asks.

  ‘Ordinary?’ I raise my brow at her. ‘No Ferrari can be classed as ordinary.’

  ‘True—but come on, tell me. What have you changed?’

  I laugh at her eagerness. I miss this. Having her to share everything with. Just like we used to. It’s nice. Really nice. I sit back in the seat and give her the low-down, watching the way her hands caress the interior, feeling her excitement build my own.

  ‘She’s a beauty.’

  ‘That she is,’ I say, and I’m looking at her—all her—and she knows it.

  She meets my eyes, her smile softening as she places the back of her hand over her mouth and stifles a yawn. I feel it too—jet lag creeping in.

  ‘Come on. Let’s get you to bed.’

  ‘Us,’ she says. ‘Let’s get us to bed.’

  Us. I love how that sounds. My body warms over it as I climb out of the car and walk around to help her up. She takes my hand and folds into my side as we walk out of the garage. I set the glass sliding back into place and make for the staircase.

  She pulls on my arm to stop me as she kicks off her shoes, and then we’re moving again and I’m thinking about sleeping. Sleeping and logistics.

  ‘I had the spare room made up for you.’ It feels ridiculous even as I say it and her laugh confirms it.

  ‘You know I’m not going to use it, don’t you?’

  My smile is easy. ‘I didn’t think so.’

  ‘Sweet of you, though.’

  She hangs off my arm and rubs her cheek against my shoulder, almost catlike and loaded with affection. My heart squeezes in my chest.

  Where is this heading? Am I a fool?

  We reach my bedroom and she pulls away from me, heading for the bed that takes centre stage. She starts to strip as she walks and my throat tightens. But it’s not all lust. There’s a sense of her belonging here, a sense of comfort. And the fact that she clearly feels it too isn’t lost on me.

  I follow suit, taking off my jacket and unbuttoning my shirt. I don’t remember ever doing this. Bringing a woman home and just undressing as if it’s a nightly thing. In fact, I can probably count the number of women I’ve had in here on one hand.

  I sit on the edge of the bed, stripping off my shoes, my socks. I feel her weight as she slips onto the bed too, the quilt shifting as she lifts it and slides under. The warmth that’s been setting up camp in my chest since I came back into her life swells inside me.

  I stand to unbutton my trousers and strip both those and my underwear away in one swoop, tossing them to the side.

  ‘Do you always sleep naked?’ she murmurs, her words drawn out and low.

  I look at her as she blinks at me, her eyes heavy.
The quilt is pulled to her chin and a pillow cocoons her head. She looks comfortable and inviting all at once.

  ‘Yes.’

  I smile and climb in beside her, careful not to let the air-conditioned draught in too much. Immediately she scoots over, resting her head on my chest, and my smile grows as I wrap my arm around her and hold her there.

  ‘Lucas...?’

  ‘Hmm...?’

  ‘Don’t you get lonely?’

  I flinch and mask it with a shrug; her simple question has cut deep. ‘I’m too busy to get lonely.’

  She shakes her head. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  She sounds strange, remorseful, so different from how she’s been up until now, and I find I’m struggling for words. Too busy fending off the truth.

  ‘You don’t really have anyone—thanks to my family.’

  Oh, God. Too close.

  My gut writhes as I squeeze her shoulder. I’m aiming to reassure, but I can’t speak past the chill.

  She presses a kiss to my chest and turns her head to rest her cheek over my pec.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispers, and I feel a damp trickle over my skin—she’s crying.

  ‘Evangeline...?’

  Oh, God, don’t cry, baby.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ She shakes her head again, her breath rasping. ‘You don’t deserve it—you don’t deserve how my family has treated you. You don’t deserve any of it.’

  I turn her onto her back and gaze down into her face. Her eyes are clamped shut, tears escaping to trail down her face.

  I press a kiss to her brow. ‘Evangeline, look at me.’

  She doesn’t.

  I lightly kiss the bridge of her nose. ‘Please?’

  Her lashes flutter open.

  ‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’

  I seal my words with another kiss, ending any denial with the gentle pressure of my mouth. I only want to comfort her, to make her happy again, but as her body curves into mine her nakedness draws me in, and my body stirs, my heart warms.

  ‘Make love to me,’ she whispers against my lips, hooking her legs around my hips, opening herself to me.

  Something inside me eases, like a balm being smoothed over old wounds. I trust her—heart, mind and soul.

  Make love to me...

  Always.

  I press home and in one swift move she surrounds me. Comfort, love, light. Everything I could ever want, ever need, is here...right now.

  And I won’t let anyone take it away.

  Not Nate. Not her father. No one.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I AM BLISSFULLY COSY. Wrapped in the most luxurious quilt, my limbs entwined as I cuddle it to me.

  But I’m alone.

  My senses come alert. I’m not worried, though. He’s here somewhere. The heady scent of fresh coffee is in the air and I can hear movement somewhere in the distance.

  I open my eyes, blinking against the sunrise that fills the room with a golden glow. It’s breathtaking, lighting up the sea and the sky beyond the glass, and I’m basking in it. I roll over and stretch, loving how my body still tingles after everything we have shared since we left London.

  I smile and a little kick of glee erupts inside me. This is too good to be true.

  But it is true.

  And once I get my family in line it could be perfect.

  My eighteen-year-old self is becoming an increasingly distant memory, her warning just as weak.

  I leap out of bed and the sound of water breaking reaches me—the pool. I imagine him almost naked, his muscles rippling as he moves through the water, and my body sighs over the image.

  I dip to collect his shirt from the floor and slip it on, heading in his direction. My pulse is already dancing, but as I step outside it skitters with my intake of breath.

  The pool is outstretched before me, filling half of the long roof terrace. Two draped cabanas, a string of sunbeds and many decorative plants flank it on one side; on the other is the view. And there he is, gliding through the water, his back to me. A strip of black fabric sits tight over his behind and the rest is bare for me to enjoy.

  I’m quiet as I pad out. I don’t want to disturb his front crawl, and his perfect form delivering stroke after stroke is mesmerising. But of course he’s nearing the end. At any moment he will turn and see me.

  I lower myself to the edge and sit down, my toes testing the water. It’s warm and I sink my legs in, swirling them around as he disappears under the water and executes a perfect turn. Like a professional. Of course, that’s Lucas all over...perfecting everything.

  His head breaks the water and he flicks his fringe over—and that’s when his eyes light on me, his smile wide and squeezing my heart tight. He picks up pace and reaches me before I can finish a breath, flicking his hair again, his smile sending butterflies loose.

  ‘Morning, sleepyhead.’

  He presses his palms into the pool edge either side of me and lifts himself effortlessly to plant a kiss on my lips. Water drips from him onto the shirt, down its opening, over my thighs, my skin alive to every patter.

  ‘Sleep well?’

  He drops back and I lean over to stroke his jaw, his stubble teasing at my fingertips. ‘Very...’

  ‘Thought you might.’

  His grin tells me he’s reliving the night and my body heats.

  ‘I could get used to seeing you in my clothing.’

  His eyes trail hot and heavy down my body, exposed save for the single fastened button at my waist.

  ‘What time do we need to leave?’ I ask. I’m already thinking about delaying and joining him in the pool. The water looks so inviting, and as for its single occupant...mmm...

  ‘After breakfast. The coffee should be ready.’

  I stroke my feet up his sides and he rests his hands over my thighs, making no attempt to move.

  ‘Are you wanting a swim?’

  ‘I didn’t bring my costume.’

  His smile turns wicked. ‘It would be a waste anyway.’

  And then he’s pulling me in, shirt and all, his lips gentle as they find mine, his fingers in my hair combing, caressing.

  I sigh into his mouth. ‘Your shirt will be ruined.’

  ‘I’ll buy another.’

  His lips turn urgent as he pulls it apart, the button disappearing somewhere on the pool-bed, his hands rough on my body as he caresses every curve, my breasts, my nipples. He presses me back against the wall, his groan of need echoed in my own.

  I slip my hand inside his shorts and he bucks into my fingers—obedient, eager. I pull him out and, weightless in the water, lift my legs around him, positioning him so he thrusts, hard, deep, my slickness making it so easy, so welcoming.

  He leans back, his face taut with desire, and he cups my arse with one hand, his free hand coming to rest over my pelvis, his thumb dipping to caress my throbbing clit.

  God, yes.

  He’s circling over me, moving in me, and I stretch my arms out over the poolside, holding myself steady for his every move. It’s electrifying, with the warmth of the rising sun and the water lapping over my exposed breasts an added thrill, and I’m coming in seconds, wave after wave racking my body.

  I cry out, his name bursting from me, loaded with everything I feel. ‘Lucas...’

  Tears prick the backs of my eyes, happiness welling so fierce, and I hear him join me.

  His ‘Evangeline!’ tips the tears over and I reach out to hook my hands around his neck, pulling myself tight against him as he pulses within me.

  I want to tell him I love him. I want to so much, but something stops me. The rejected eighteen-year-old girl still hanging on? Or the fear of going through the same all over again?

  And then there’s my family and the rift I’ve yet to fix. Their suspicion that his motives are
n’t as innocent as he’s made out. But I can’t believe that. I won’t.

  ‘I could get used to good mornings like this,’ he murmurs against my hair, his fingers stroking my nape.

  I nod. It’s all I can manage.

  ‘Ready for some breakfast now?’

  I rub my face against his chest, hiding my tears before I look at him. I don’t want him to question them. Because I am happy. In that moment I really am.

  I can deal with the rest later.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  * * *

  Breakfast is perfect. A selection of pastries, fresh fruit, juice and coffee. But it’s the company that truly makes it: him.

  And as we tour his business that day he’s in his element. Hell, so am I.

  What he’s achieved isn’t to be sniffed at. It’s incredible. He’s maximising the skilled workforce Singapore is renowned for, and not only that—he’s keeping them. His staff turnover is lower than any competitor, and when I quiz him on his costs and how he manages it he has an answer for it all.

  His is the right company for me to go into business with. He can give me everything I need to break out on my own. I wouldn’t be beholden to him or my family. As far as business goes it would be all me. That part has nothing to do with sex, or love. It’s about doing the right thing for the product, showing I can really do this.

  We talk not only to his managers, but to his workers too. They show me the clean, comfortable housing the company provides, and they tell me about the subsidised bills and all the amenities, which include a park area for children, a sports centre, a nursery. They tell me how Waring Holdings puts other big corporations that function in the vicinity to shame, and how people come flocking to work here. They tell me how his company has effectively saved them—saved them.

  It’s crazy to believe it, but I’ve seen reports from other companies around the globe—the undercover news articles, the suicides. It’s exactly what I was worried about when I flagged the human rights issues at him.

  But now he’s more than assured me of his ethics—he’s made me fall in love with him all the more. He’s not only given these people jobs, he’s given them homes, good lives to live and enjoy. In return for their fantastically skilled work he’s given them the respect of a fantastic working environment.