“I won’t do it,” I snapped. “I’m not a child to take orders. I have a life, Papa. I’m not ready to marry anyone.”
Papa’s gaze narrowed, giving me a glimpse of the boss everyone feared. “You will. I won’t let a simple marriage destroy everything I’ve built over the years. Until my dying day, I plan to hold our family together. We all have to make sacrifices. You’ll make this one.”
“But Papa—”
“Isa, enough.” I jumped at the warning. “I’ve indulged you for far too long. You will do this for our family. You will marry him. And you will use whatever means necessary to gain leverage on that man. I will make him beholden to me, not the other way around.”
I just stared at Papa, not believing the change in him. He’d never spoken to me this way.
Yes, I’d grown up in a life of luxury and had been pampered, but I’d gone to school. Hell, I’d gone to graduate school. And to Oxford, no less. I’d made a career for myself as an art expert with a specialty in appraisal and authenticity. I could tell a fake from the real thing without batting an eyelash, no matter how good a copy. It wasn’t the most glamorous job, but it allowed me to work when I wanted and gave me the freedom to focus on my real business, one my father had no idea about, but I’d done it. I’d succeeded in a field dominated by men.
It pissed me off to no end that my value was in my looks, my pedigree, my family. I’d wanted to be the son Papa never had, and it took me a long time to accept that I’d never had a chance in hell of taking over the family empire. The patriarchal way of things was generations old and wasn’t going to change anytime soon. But I never expected this.
“Let me get this straight. You want me to sell my body to a man I have never met and use my sexual wiles to captivate him and find out anything that you can use as leverage to keep him in line. In other words, I’m a whore who’s been sold by my mother and grandfather to the highest bidder.”
I couldn’t hide the anger I felt toward Mama, and I ignored the wince she gave at my words.
Papa clenched his jaw. Good, I’d struck a nerve, and he hadn’t liked what I’d said. He could try that cold, unfeeling manner with everyone else but I knew my Papa was still under the mask he’d donned in front of my eyes.
“Isa, I didn’t have a choice in whether I married your papa either,” my mother said in a low whisper. “But we grew to love each other.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” I stood. I had to get out of here before I lost my ever-loving mind. “You knew how I felt. You knew I wasn’t the girl who did what everyone expected. I can’t be around you right now. Either of you.”
I shot Papa an angry glare, and saw a flash of regret before he schooled it away.
I wanted to run away and hide, but where would I go? Besides, I’d never been one to run away from issues.
I turned and stalked to the door.
The second my fingers closed around the doorknob, Papa said, “Your engagement is set. You’ll be Eloisa Weber by next spring.”
I froze. That was eight months from now.
Taking a deep breath, I glanced over my shoulder. “Then I guess I better start enjoying the last bit of my life as I know it. And I don’t want to meet the man until my wedding day. The last thing I want during the next eight months is a constant reminder of who’ll own my freedom.”
4
Three Months Later
Sebastian
“Good to see you back in town.” A large man in a tailored suit approached me as I entered Verberne Schutzer, one of the newest underground clubs in Berlin. Unless a person knew someone or they were invited would they ever hear of the club or gain admission inside. This wasn’t the type of place with lines of people waiting outside, and anyone who learned of the location and tried to gain entrance was met with bouncers who were more than happy to explain they weren’t welcome.
I clasped his offered hand. “Good to see you again, Justine.”
“I see you’ve gotten some sun. It must be a nice change from the weather here. Let me guess—you were laid out on some tropical beach with cocktails and honeys around you.”
If he only knew. My ribs still hurt from my last assignment and I’d just lost my best friend and partner, Adrian Kipos. The fucker had decided to retire from the job, which meant I was left high and dry. I couldn’t fault the man. He’d gotten back together with the only woman he’d ever loved and had known any future with her meant he had to leave the lifestyle. But it also meant I’d lost the only man who I trusted without question to watch my back.
Adrian and I’d started at our agencies right out of college. As an American, Adrian signed on with the CIA, and my road took me the way of Interpol. We had our reasons for the paths we’d taken. Mine being the need to take down the man who’d let my mother die.
“You could say something like that.”
“I’m glad I could convince you to come check out the new club. The Boss has gone the extra mile with this one.” He gestured toward his right. “Let me take you to a table. I’ll see if the Boss is available to meet you.”
Oh, I was going to meet “the Boss,” all right. I wanted to see how accurate the information I’d gathered was to the public image. She was the ultimate liability, and it was better to view her as a target.
We walked down a dimly lit hallway until we reached a heavy metal door. Justine scanned his thumbprint on a reader and the doors opened, allowing the hip-hop beat of the DJ’s music to explode out.
“What do you think?” Justine asked as we entered the club.
I’d only seen one other place with this type of clean lines and sharp contrasts of light and dark colors. It was one of the clubs in Vegas run by the billionaire Lykaios brothers. The one thing that made this place different was the blatant sexual vibe. There were subtle sculptures tucked around the place depicting intimate yet chaste images of couples. It was a tease to the senses, as if one had entered a kink club instead of a dance club.
“It’s definitely unique. Not something one would expect. But then again, I believe your boss was aiming for this effect on the patrons.”
Justine grinned. “Exactly. The Boss has a way of creating an atmosphere that’s the exact opposite of what’s considered the norm.”
“A rebel in the entertainment world.”
We stopped near a set of couches strategically positioned in view of the dance floor but far enough away to give a small semblance of privacy.
“It’s the only way to stand out in the crowd. Here you go. Make yourself comfortable. Nikita will be here in a few moments to take your order. I’ll go find the Boss and let her know to come over.”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure if Justine realized he’d said “her” when referring to his boss. The owner was known for keeping a low profile, never letting anyone know she was a woman in a business run by men, especially in Germany. The nightclub world was as ruthless as the one I’d grown up in. But then again, “the Boss” was as experienced in the life as I was.
I ordered my drink and watched the patrons of the club. Most were well-to-do, not the typical underground club goers. These people had money. They dressed casually, but the quality and brands of their clothing said enough.
As I took in the decor, I studied the sculptures more closely. They looked more than the average knock-off of an ancient artist's design. One in particular looked exactly like something I’d seen in an auction catalog not so long ago. Either “the Boss” had money to burn or had commissioned a replica that looked identical to the real thing.
The DJ switched the beat of the music to a hip-hop techno rhythm, a sound popular in Europe. The crowd thickened as they tried to find spots to lose themselves in the sounds booming from the carefully hidden speakers.
“Will you need anything else, sir?” Nikita said as she set my drink in front of me.
I shook my head and she left.
That was when I saw her.
This wasn’t the well-dressed and well-behaved princess the pictures had made
her look like, or the tomboy in baggy pants that left the shooting range after practicing for hours.
She was breathtaking, seductive, with an aura of innocence that made a man want to protect her.
Fucking gorgeous.
Her gaze landed on me, and my breath caught as if she’d knocked the wind out of me.
I couldn’t believe this was the woman my mother and Opa had picked for me.
Her black hair was loose in large waves, framing eyes so blue that they looked almost artificial. And those lips—they were full, pouty, and gave a man visions of the perfect uses for them. Her fitted dress was conservative enough not to reveal too much but high-fashion enough to look on-trend.
Taking one last swallow of my whiskey, I rose from the couch and moved in her direction.
She watched me take her in, holding my stare. There was a challenge there as well as interest.
When I was a foot away from her, I offered her my hand without saying anything.
After a moment of hesitation, she slid her palm over mine.
The first touch was electric, and my cock immediately responded. Her breath hitched, and heat entered the deep cobalt irises.
Holy fuck. What was happening?
This attraction was nothing like anything I’d experienced before. The caveman side of me wanted to throw her over my shoulder and take her somewhere I could bury myself deep in her and make her call out my name as she came.
This wasn’t what I’d expected when I’d come up with my half-cocked idea of meeting my bride-to-be.
I curled my fingers around her small, almost too-delicate hand and led her toward the dance floor. As we worked our way through the crowd, I noticed how people moved aside the instant they caught sight of her. Everyone seemed to know who she was.
I paused near the center of the dancing bodies, turning to face her. She shifted toward me and slid her free arm around my neck. Releasing her hand, I glided one arm around her waist, drawing her closer to me, and the other up her back.
The music around us blared as we moved together, neither of us speaking, only letting this spark between us guide the dance. The press of her body to mine left no doubt of the need coursing through me.
If I wasn’t careful, this woman would lead me around by the dick.
She fucking smelled incredible, a hint of something floral and spiced. I resisted the urge to fist her hair and tilt her neck up so I could get a better sniff.
Was she as affected by me as I was by her?
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, breaking the silence between us.
“I’m trying to figure you out.”
“What is there to figure out? I’m a woman in a nightclub enjoying a night out.”
She slid against me in the rhythm the DJ mixed, and I almost groaned.
“I find that hard to believe, Boss.” I gave her a knowing smile, and she returned it.
“So, you’re the VIP Justine wanted me to meet?”
“I’m glad we met like this and not as part of your business.”
“Like what?” She was playing with me.
“In the way a man who finds a woman attractive and experiences instantaneous chemistry.”
Her breath hitched but she tried to mask it.
“Tell me you don’t feel it.” I pressed her toward me, bringing her face close to mine.
She licked her lips as her gaze held mine. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because nothing can come of it.”
“I disagree.” Before I could say more, a group of women moved around us, one bumping my shoulder.
Almost immediately, a giant of a man moved in our direction. Eloisa shook her head and he moved back to his perch against a pillar.
She had security watching her every move. I should have expected this. Benz was not going to leave his princess unguarded. However, I had a hard time believing he knew about or would allow his daughter to be in the cutthroat nightclub business.
“This is a nice place. Different. Something I’d expect from the Lykaios brothers in Las Vegas.”
Anyone in the entertainment industry knew who the Lykaios brothers were. They’d created an empire that catered to the indulgence of Las Vegas, from casinos and resorts to sporting events, shows, and nightclubs. Each brother had his specific focus, with nightlife being Hagen Lykaios’s particular vein of interest.
She gave me a brilliant smile that made her beauty more dazzling. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I can only hope to garner the success Hagen Lykaios has created. Like his properties, none of my places are the same. Each has a different vibe, but with a more European flair.”
Her enthusiasm for her business told me this wasn’t some hobby but an actual endeavor she wanted to make a success.
“How many do you have?”
“I don’t know you well enough to divulge that information.”
“Then get to know me.”
“You don’t give up.”
“No success ever came by giving up.”
The music changed and she stepped out of my hold.
“Thank you for the dance.”
“I want to see you again,” I said as she turned to walk away.
She paused and faced me again. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She closed her eyes for a second, releasing a sigh of resignation. “Because I’m promised to someone else.”
Well, I wasn’t expecting her to say that. She went with the truth, not a fabrication.
“Promised? As in engaged?”
“Yes, exactly.” She clenched her jaw, telling me she was as thrilled to marry me as I’d been to marry her.
“You don’t seem happy about it. I thought women were excited when they’re about to get married.”
She swallowed, and I waited to hear her response.
“It was arranged. I’ve never met him. I won’t meet him until our wedding day.”
“Isn’t that a bit archaic? No one does arranged marriages nowadays. And if they did, the couple would at least meet before the big day.”
“The world I come from isn’t modern. It doesn’t follow the rules of society. I’m the one who didn’t want to meet. What difference would it make anyway? Any objections to our marriage are irrelevant. Our families will suffer the consequences otherwise.”
“You make it sound like your family is the mob and it’s about territory.” She’d thrown truth my way, I’d do the same.
“I’ve accepted my fate. I’m sorry we didn’t meet sooner. We could have seen where this…” she paused, “…this thing between us could have led. Thank you for the dance.”
As she moved to walk away, I grabbed her arm. “What about friendship?”
“Friendship?” A crease of confusion formed between her brows. “I don’t follow.”
“What if we were friends? Nothing more. I’d like to get to know you.”
“I don’t have many men who are friends.” She looked down to where I held her, the heat of her skin penetrating into mine. “Plus…”
“Plus, what?”
She lifted her gaze to mine. “It wouldn’t work. I don’t know how to be friends with someone I’m attracted to.”
“You’re very direct.”
“It’s the way of things for me. If I’m not, then all anyone would see is the outside and the image my family has created of me.”
“So, you know you’re beautiful?”
“I look like my mother, so yes. That doesn’t mean I want someone to value me for it.” There was a slight tone of anger there that told me it was a sore subject.
“Give me your name, at least.”
“Isa.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go.”
There was a hint of panic in her voice. I wanted to push, but I couldn’t. I had no rights over her. Well, as far as she knew.
“I’m Baz.”
“That’s unusual.”
“My mother gave me that nickname.”
&nb
sp; “What does it stand for?”
“That would require you to meet me for coffee tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Sure, you can. Meet me at Emma’s around two o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I’m sure you know where it is, since you can see it on the corner of this street.”
“I won’t be there.”
“I can always hope.” I held her gaze as I released my hold on her hand and then turned, walking toward the doors leading to the exit.
5
Isa
I entered my apartment around four in the morning ready for a few hours of sleep. I was exhausted from a busy night putting out one fire after another, something to be expected when opening a new club. And I was more than a bit messed up from meeting Baz.
Of all the times in my life to meet a man who affected me to such an intense level, it had to happen after I’d gotten engaged.
Baz made me feel like he could see deep inside me, down to my soul. Where I kept all my secrets.
And he wanted to meet for coffee. As friends.
Was that even possible with a man one was attracted to?
I walked straight into my bedroom, tugging at the zipper on the side of my dress. Just as I pulled the designer fabric over my head, my phone rang.
Throwing the dress on a nearby chair, I walked back into the living room where I’d dropped my purse.
The ringing stopped.
Pulling my cell out, I checked the display and groaned.
Oma.
This was going to be a long lecture. I’d better get comfortable.
I quickly ran into my closet, grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank, shrugged them on, and then called Oma back while crawling onto my bed.
“Where have you been? You should be in bed, not running around town. You’re engaged, for God’s sake.” The irritation in her voice was palpable.
I could admit I hadn’t made it easy for my family. Unless I was required to visit for a dinner or a gathering, I avoided them. And even on those occasions, I kept conversation to a minimum and found an excuse to leave early. I wanted to take every bit of freedom I would have before I became Frau Sebastian Weber.
Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection Page 89
