Mistress By Blackmail(22)

Thanks, Mum. Really. Thanks.





Chapter 5





Marcus slipped his phone into the pocket of his suit coat and eased back on the limo seat. Darkness had descended on the city, but the lights of Times Square blazed as if it were day.

The day that had seemed as long as a month.

Raking his hands through his hair, he cursed under his breath.

He’d wondered. All day.

Dannazione. Worried.

The sprite had appeared horrified at the thought of spending an entire day being pampered. What kind of woman was she? Any other woman of his acquaintance would have purred a thank you. Dio, maybe even given him a kiss.

Not Ms. Darcy Moran.

No, just as with her brand new wardrobe, she’d thrown it right back into his face. He’d had to put his foot down so many times in the last twenty-four hours, she should be nothing more than a squashed bug.

A chuckle escaped him.

He was always good at sizing up the competition. Or in this case, the enemy. So he figured he shouldn’t hold his breath about finding a submissive doormat waiting for him at the Plaza.

Instead, he’d likely be dealing with a hellcat ready to fight.

She’d been gone by the time he’d showered and dressed this morning. Yet the sizzle of her anger hung in the air over their breakfast dishes. He’d called to make sure she’d obeyed instructions. Once he’d made sure she was where he wanted her to be, he’d put her out of his mind.

Or tried to.

It was merely to ensure she was following orders that he’d made the calls to the salon through the course of the day. He was only checking to make sure she hadn’t taken flight. This was the only reason he’d quizzed his security team regarding her whereabouts a few times.

Okay, several times.

What mattered was she’d stayed put and did what he told her.

But he could predict what would happen when he got to his suite. The little sprite would stomp and screech. She had her pride so she would make her point by hurting his ears and irritating him. He’d end up putting his foot down once more. Perhaps he would even have to stuff her into a gown and shoes before carrying her through the door.

His body burned in excitement as images of his opponent in lacy panties and bra slid through his brain. Fighting him as he slipped a dress over her head. Tiny fists waving in his face. Eyes blazing defiance. Plump pink lips pouting, while that damn pointed chin of hers jutted out in bold rebellion.

He tugged at his tie, loosening the stranglehold around his neck.

Why was the thought of another row with her making him excited?

His phone buzzed against his chest. Sliding it open, he scanned the message. Good. The deal was done. The one he’d negotiated during the day with half his brain tied around all things Darcy.

Satisfaction coursed through him. As well as annoyance.

No woman distracted him from business. Not since he’d been twenty-one. He’d learned a hard lesson then, one he’d mastered well. No woman was worth taking his attention from what was truly important. Making the next deal. Amassing more power. Ensuring there would always be plenty of money.

Yet Darcy had.

He tapped the phone on his knee. It would not do and this would not happen again. He would make sure of it. All he had to do was remind himself of the fool he’d been with Juliana.

Si. Juliana.

The ugly memory washed through him and settled like a hard mass in the center of his chest. It felt right in some way, familiar. It was good he remembered. Remembered everything and how it had changed him for the better.

He was now no longer trusting. Instead, he was thorough. A man who didn’t assume something was done to his satisfaction until he’d checked on it himself. A man who didn’t take someone, man or woman, at their word. He listened to what someone promised or proposed and then tied them to it using his power and money. It was one of many reasons why he was so successful. He never left anything to chance or luck. He was always prepared for whatever an adversary tried to use to oppose him. He’d seen and experienced every trick in the book and knew how to overcome each one.

The nymph clearly knew quite a few tricks.

The peeks from beneath her long lashes. The husk in her voice. The drama of last night’s screeching demands to get his attention one way. The curling into his arms in bed to gain his attention in another. The pretend horror when he’d called her on the sunshine pose.

The woman was trying to play him.

He chuckled.

He had to give her some credit. She was good. Not good enough to win against him, but hell, he was a hardened warrior in the game-playing arena.

Now that he thought about it, the fact she’d gone to the salon and stayed was no surprise. Without a doubt, she’d had no real intention of denying herself the luxury. Why should she? She’d hit the jackpot. No, the entire confrontation this morning had been a sham. A way to jerk his chain and keep his attention. She was playing a game, saying one thing, wanting another. For all her flat denials, she’d slipped on the clothes he’d given her. For all her pretend shock, she’d slept by his side, snuggling into him. For all her fake outrage, she’d spent the day right where she wanted to be.