The Buchanan's Redemption(13)

“Where are we going?” she asked as he led her to the awaiting Towncar. “You know this isn’t necessary.”

“I will determine what is necessary and what isn’t.”

She lifted her shoulder in a small negligent shrug as if to say, it’s your dime, and climbed into the Towncar. He caught a flash of leg as she did so and his groin tightened almost painfully. What was wrong with him? There were no mysteries with Emma. He knew what the red dress concealed so the usual anticipation of revealing the treasures of a new conquest shouldn’t be distracting him. He knew the size and shape of her lovely nipples and the fact that she had a tiny birthmark on her hipbone like an angel’s kiss marking an erogenous zone. So why was he shaking like a leaf in the wind at the very idea of lifting the hem of that exquisite dress and feasting his eyes on what he’d already seen?

“Tell me about yourself,” he instructed, eliciting a quick look of surprise from her blue eyes.

“Why?”

“Because I want to hear from you what I already know.”

She scowled, hating to be reminded that he was in control. “And why should I do that?”

His temper began to build at her stubbornness but then he realized Emma would never yield through sheer pressure; she would rather break first. And he had no interest in breaking her tonight. Particularly when he felt out of sorts himself. “Let me try again,” he said, offering a small smile that he hoped was disarming. In truth, Nolan was the charming one but he’d picked up a tip or two over the years from watching the master at work. “I realize we’ve gotten off to a terrible start and I want to rectify that if I can. I’d like to work as a team for mutual benefit.”

“That’s impossible. You’re holding me hostage and it’s too soon for Stockholm Syndrome to kick in so I am not the least bit sympathetic to your cause. I’m here because you’re making me. Have you forgotten that you’re blackmailing me?”

“No and it’s unfortunate that I couldn’t find a better way to encourage your assistance but I thought if we could break down the barrier between us, you would be willing to help me without coercion and thus, together we’d find a mutually agreeable solution to the problem at hand.”

“You really want to work together?” she asked, her brows lifting in wary surprise. “Even if it means eventually shutting down Malvagio for good?”

“Let’s just say, I’ve been thinking long and hard about my involvement with the club and I’m open to new possibilities,” he said, lying through his teeth. Shut down the club? Not in a million years. No one told Vince how to run his life, not his brother, and certainly not this pretty piece of ass sitting close enough to touch. But he needed her cooperation and he was willing to tell her whatever she needed to hear to get it. “You have to understand, I never imagined that someone might use the club for such purposes as hurting other people. The whole idea behind Malvagio is a consensual freeing of the senses, using all manner of tools and toys. Surely, that’s not a bad thing?”

Emma slid her tongue along the seam of her bottom lip, unsure of how to handle a calmer, more genteel version of himself and Vince nearly crowed. “I don’t know…on the surface I would say, I suppose not but indiscriminate sex with strangers goes against everything I believe sex should be about.”

That intrigued him. “Oh? And what should sex be about? I mean that with all sincerity,” he added when she started to bristle. His quick clarification took some of the hot air from her sails but she looked reluctant to share her feelings about the subject until he pressed. “I wasn’t raised with a traditional value set and it’s beginning to become apparent to me that I might’ve missed out some important lessons. Maybe you could help me to understand how you feel.”

“Oh. Well, um, okay. But if you’re asking me this only to mock me later, then I’m not going to share personal stuff,” she warned and he held up two fingers with a murmured ‘scout’s honor’ and she scoffed at the idea. “I doubt you were ever a Scout.”

“Not true. I was an Eagle Scout, believe it or not.”

“And if I don’t believe it?”

“Then I will have to drag my achievement medals out from their boxes in storage to prove it to you.”

A tiny smile lifted the corners of her sweet mouth and he realized he liked her smile very much. He would endeavor to make her smile more, he decided. Perhaps even laugh.

"So how did you go from Eagle Scout to morally-deficient lothario?"

He chuckled even though she had just lobbed an insult his way. "I suppose poor guidance? Or maybe I'm just drawn that way. Either way, we are who we are."

"Tell me why you are an ardent supporter of breast cancer research," she said, surprising him with her straightforward question. At his raised brow, she shrugged saying, "You're not the only one good at research."

He hadn't expected her to lob a very personal question his way but he supposed it was fair game. By the end of the night he wanted to know everything there was to know about Emma Winters and he planned to get very personal indeed. He could participate in a little quid pro quo if it pleased her. "My mother died of breast cancer when I was seven. I can't help but wonder if I might've turned out differently if she’d been around. Before I totally ruin your opinion of me as a self-serving, arrogant bastard, it's the one and only charity I support. But then again it's not hard to write a check so I try not to toot my own horn too loudly."

She nodded, digesting the information. He wished he could have a window into that quick moving little mind of hers. He’d give anything to know where her thoughts were going. The fact that he cared at all what she thought was another revelation to him. Not a comfortable one at that. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother. Your father is dead as well, yes?"

He nodded. “His death didn't affect me as deeply as that of my mother. My father… Let's just say if you think I'm an asshole then he would've been the king of assholes. We didn't exactly get along — too much alike, I suppose. By the time he died I was more than ready to see the last of him."

"Do your brothers feel the same way?"

"Pretty much. He wasn't much of a father. He was more of a CEO than a family patriarch." Vince shrugged when he saw a hint of sympathy creep into her eyes. "It is what it is and I don't dwell on the past. Tell me about your parents."

But before she could answer the town car slowed to a stop as they arrived at the restaurant. Vince was half tempted to tell the driver to circle around the block because he didn't want to shatter the illusion of sharing confidences but she was only too eager to climb from the car.

The restaurant, one of the most pompous places he knew, catered to people like him and he knew instinctively that Emma would probably hate it, or if not hated, at least find herself out of her element. He could've picked a less pretentious place but for some reason he had wanted to drive home the point that he had more money than he knew what to do with and that she couldn't possibly compete with him on any level. Perhaps it was petty but he preferred to think of it as ruthless. He may wear the veneer of a charming gentleman when it suited him but deep down he was a shark and she would do well to remember that, if even on a subconscious level.

But Emma, he discovered, was unpredictable. When she saw the restaurant her eyes lit up and she smiled, saying, "I read a review on this place and it was very complementary. I can't wait to try their food on your dime because the prices are ridiculous. I mean, who really wants to pay $300 for a giant plate with hardly anything on it?"

Vince stifled a chuckle. God, he felt the same. He only brought people here when he wanted to impress or intimidate. And clearly, she’d sailed past either attempt with flying colors, choosing to grab the moment with a hearty sense of adventure. How could he not identify with such a kindred spirit?

The moment they crossed the threshold the maître d expediently seated them in a private corner as was the custom whenever a Buchanan frequented the establishment but Emma was too busy gazing in wide-eyed wonder at everything around her to notice much else, including his hand at the small of her back as he guided her to her seat. She graced him with a brief smile even as her eyes lit up with delight as if she forgot for the moment that she hated him and Vince’s heart nearly stuttered to a stop at how blindingly beautiful she was when she turned on that 100-watt smile without reservation. But she must’ve remembered her circumstances a heartbeat later for she quickly smothered the smile and Vince saw the walls go back up. The wine arrived and Emma took a quick sip, probably to bolster her nerves and he enjoyed watching her every move from above the rim of his own glass. “Do you approve?” he asked of his wine choice.

“I’m not much of a wine drinker,” she said by way of an answer. “It could be the best or the worst and I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Good to know. In other words, you’re a fairly cheap date.”

“I don’t actually date that often so I can’t rightly say but if you’re using that as a gauge then, I guess you would be right because I’m more of a burgers and beer kind of girl.”