Mistress By Blackmail(23)

Si, the woman was playing her game.

He answered a few texts and emails. Called his manager in London and then placed another call to his Rome office. He finally snapped the phone off. Glancing out the window, he caught a glimpse of a billboard, high above the street. A model pouted and posed in a slinky pink nightgown.

The memory of her, this morning, filled his mind.

The sunshine had shot right through the filmy cloth gracing her body. The firm roundness of her bottom, the surprising length of her legs, the slender back and dainty shoulders. Then she’d turned to face him, her arms trying to pretend to hide her delights from his perusal. He’d seen enough, though. The lush thrust of her delectable breasts, the tiny waist, the petite hips.

Sei bella.

His erection pressed along the zipper of his pants, pulsing and pounding. Exactly as his blood did.

Si, so beautiful.

With grim determination, he stared at his phone. He would not allow her this control over his thoughts. The strength of his response to her mere memory was not acceptable. He clamped down on both the irritation and his libido.

The only problem with the woman who waited for him at the Plaza was he needed to bed her. This was the only small hold she had on him, the only fascination he carried for her. That was all. This was easily taken care of. She would capitulate soon. He’d seen it in her eyes this morning. She wanted him. It would have been so easy to sweep her off her feet, into the bed. However, he had his pride.

He could wait.

Wait for her first touch. Prove his point and win once more.

The limo eased to a stop at the hotel stairs.

As he strode through the lobby and into the elevator, he prepared himself. Set his shoulders straight, slipped his tie into place, buttoned his suit coat. Arranged his expression into one of forbidding resolve.

He opened the door expecting an immediate battle cry.

No one met his entrance with words or missiles. He shut the door behind him with a thump. Glancing around, waiting for an attack, he found himself standing in the middle of the living room.

She was upstairs. He could hear her humming.

Humming?

Pacing to the crystal decanter of brandy he’d ordered last night, he poured himself a shot. He swirled the liquor in the glass, watching as it sloshed against the side.

She was happy? She wasn’t meeting him at the door with an ax?

The husky, low voice above continued to hum. The sound slid across his skin and soaked into his soul. He threw his head back and swallowed the shot in one gulp.

This was only another version of her game. He could play along.

“You’re here.” She was using the husk in her voice again for good effect.

Turning, he looked to the stairs.

Despite his determined conclusions he’d made in the limo, his breath caught in his throat. His blood turned to heated oil. His cock hardened into a hot thrust of lust.

The ruby-red dress wrapped around her body like a caress, highlighting her pocket Venus figure to perfection. A tight sash emphasized her tiny waist, the round curve of her hips. Her breasts were pushed high, displaying a surprisingly impressive cleavage to his ravenous inspection.

“You fancy?” Her eyes danced as she spread her arms wide, showing herself off.

The makeup had been expertly applied. He’d known it would be well done. What he hadn’t realized, hadn’t been prepared for, was how it deepened her eyes into mysterious pools of deep-night blue. How the bright-red color on her lips highlighted the plump appeal.

She smiled.

It hit him. A womanly weapon that nearly brought him to his knees. The smile lit her face with vivacity, filled her eyes with excitement.

A giggle escaped her. “I think you like it.”

A cold wash of alarm jerked him from her power. He turned his back on her, poured another shot of brandy and drank it down. “You’ll do.”

A tense silence fell between them.

“That's good,” she finally said, her tone cool. “I would hate to think the money you’ve spent would leave you disappointed.”

He heard the click of her heels as she descended. He continued to stare at his empty glass.

“Are you changing before we go?” There wasn’t any inflection in her voice to tell him what she was thinking and feeling.

“Si.” Without looking her way, he paced to the stairs.

“I hope you’ll take some care with your clothes.”

He stopped at her words.

“I wouldn’t want to be disappointed either.”

Allowing himself to glance at her, he ignored the desire lacing through his body. “Carita, since I have never given you any expectations, how could you possibly be disappointed?”

The blast of her fuming scowl heated his neck as he ascended the steps. The resumption of their battle felt good, felt safe. What did it matter if he also felt irritated once again?