Mistress By Blackmail(14)

By: Caro LaFever


Why did he work so hard if not for the love of it? He had enough money amassed in his bank coffers to live the rest of his life in ultimate ease. What drove this man to work non-stop?

He clicked off his phone and glanced her way.

“The only thing you do is work, isn’t it?” she said, giving him a pitying look.

“No.” His eyes went hot. “I make time for other pursuits.”

“Really?” She countered his suggestive gaze with one of disbelief. “I can’t imagine it.”

“Pleasure.” He drew the word out, slurred it with his accent. “I pursue pleasure on occasion.”

The limo’s temperature seemed to instantly spike thirty degrees. Her cold hands went slick with sweat. She pulled them from between her legs and ran them across the smooth surface of the seat. The warm leather made her brain think treacherously of another kind of warm skin.

The man knew how to turn on the heat. A hot stare and a couple of words, and he had her thinking of stuff she never, ever thought of. Bodies and skin and sexual stuff. Still, he’d run into a worthy adversary. He could turn the heat to boiling and she wasn’t going to get burned.

Yet she’d play the game. She definitely knew how to play the game.

“What gives you pleasure?” She gave him a faint smile as if she were only mildly interested in the answer. “Sports? The theatre?”

“No,” he volleyed back. “Sex.”

His blunt word slammed the ball right onto her side of the court. She was ready for him. “I’m amazed you would take time away from making your next billion for such a simple pleasure.”

“Simple?” His mouth quirked in sardonic humor. “There is nothing simple about having sex with me. As you will soon find out.”

“Dream on.”

He chuckled and the damn, distracting dimples showed themselves in all their fine glory. “I will have many dreams of you, carita. Eventually, I will make them come true for both of us. Of that you can be sure.”

Before she could respond, the limo slowed, then stopped.

“Finally.” He slipped his mobile phone into his pocket. “We are here.”

She peered out the window to see five flags whipping in the wind and an impressive marble entryway. “Where’s here?”

“The Plaza.” His door was eased open by the doorman and he stepped into the biting cold of a November winter.

Slipping across the length of the seat, she was instantly conscious of how rumpled she appeared. She still wore her one good suit, though it had long ago given up any semblance of freshness, and was wrinkled and creased. Much like her hair and probably her face.

The doorman, dressed in a smart, navy suit with gold braiding, gave her a surprised appraisal. Darcy lifted her chin. What did it matter what she looked like? She wasn’t going to be intimidated by anyone.

La Rocca glanced over his shoulder at her. His gaze narrowed.

Her chin thrust out another notch. She certainly wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.

“It’s a good thing I made arrangements,” he murmured under his breath, condescending satisfaction oozing through each word. He gave her one last scan before turning away.

Bristling, she watched him as he started climbing the red-carpeted stairs. What gall. What arrogance. What the hell did he mean by made arrangements?

She gritted her teeth and controlled the urge to snarl.

Okay, he held a certain amount of power over her for now, still she wouldn’t allow him to dictate anything more than where she stayed for the next month. That was the limit of her cooperation.

“Vene,” he barked at her, gesturing with impatience.

What did that mean? But she knew what it meant. Follow him. Do what he told her to do. Be an obedient—

“Darcy.” He turned to stare at her, his satanic brows frowning. “Do I need to remind you of your father’s predicament?” Not waiting for her reply, he swung around and climbed the last of the stairs, the doorman rushing to open the door before him.

Grumbling under her breath, she followed him up the staircase and through the gold-embossed doors.

Straight into heaven.

Pale marble floors gleamed like satin. Inlaid tile swirled and enchanted in patterns which made her want to kneel and run her hands across them. Huge chandeliers glistening with fractured glowing glass splattered warm light on the lobby. A marble embossed circular table stood in the middle of the room laden with a stunning display of gardenias and greenery arching to the ceiling.