Blood Rites: (Royal Blood #3) (3 page)

I glared up at him. “Is there something I
should know?”

He narrowed his eyes. “No, Sir.”

I leaned back in my chair. He knew who paid
him above award fucking wage.

“Is that all, Vaughn?” He wasn’t happy about
my parties, but that wasn’t anything new.

I waved my hand to dismiss him. “Yeah, fuck
off.”

Flipping open the file, I began to learn all
I could about sweet, little, Lorelei Lansford.

Hot water pounded over my head as I stood in
my shower, thinking about Lorelei’s tight little pussy.

Of course, I had no idea how
tight she was, but I had a vivid imagination. Art Gallery curator,
rich, demure, not even a parking ticket to her name… She was
begging for me to corrupt her.

Wrapping my fingers around my erect cock, I
began to stroke myself, wondering what it would be like to have her
in this very shower. I let my head fall back, a moan escaping
between my parted lips. Lorelei on her knees, her mouth wrapped
around me. I pumped harder, my balls aching.

I couldn’t remember the last
time I’d masturbated thinking about a woman. It would have to be a
long time ago because if I wanted to fuck, I just went out and
found a willing participant. I’d have my dick in a pretty little
thing in under an hour, but the thought of going out and fucking
someone else when I was so fixated on Lorelei, didn’t hold my
interest.

I pumped my cock harder in my hand, my skin
heating with my imminent orgasm. When I blew, my cum hit the tiles
and I snorted at the irony. I jacked off plenty of times, but my
load usually ended up on a woman rather than on the wall.

Turning off the taps, I stepped out of the
shower and wrapped a towel around my waist. Wiping the condensation
from the mirror with the palm of my hand, I stared at my
reflection.

It’s a dangerous game you’re
playing, Vaughn
.

I couldn’t deny that I’d felt something
different when I’d laid eyes on Lorelei. I’d pursued women before,
bent their will and gotten them into bed, but that’s all it was.
Just a game.

I didn’t do relationships. I couldn’t in my
line of work. Attachments could be used to get to me. I had to be
un-fucking-touchable.

The more I tried to convince myself, the
more my thoughts kept turning back to Lorelei. Sweet, innocent
Lorelei. How she would scream in ecstasy when I finally fucked
her.

I was a man who would do whatever it took to
get what I wanted. I would fucking kill if it meant getting my
way.

I wanted to fuck Lorelei Lansford and I’d do
whatever it took to have her.

Four

Lorelei

A few days passed and I couldn’t stop
thinking about Sebastian.

Which was quite ridiculous since I didn’t
know anything else about him, other than he was hot and obviously
rich.

The way his fingers brushed
against mine, his smile. I shook my head to clear it.
Damn
fantasies
.

I stood in the middle of the
vast white space of the gallery, supervising as Bill and Jude, the
guys from the warehouse, hung a painting on the wall for our newest
showing. Original abstracts by a new French painter who was all the
rage at the moment. Bold black and grey studies of the human
consciousness or some such. Score one for the gallery and score one
for the woman who secured it.
Me
. Bloody right.

“
Perfect, guys,” I declared,
clapping my hands together.

The boys jumped down from their
ladders and began clearing their equipment. This opening was going
to be bloody amazing. We had a whole week to get things organized
and it was going to be the place to be in the art scene. Space
Gallery was already on the map, but it was about to be
the
map
.
Galleries would be following our lead for months.

The outside door opened, letting in traffic
noise and I turned to see a delivery man hovering at the front
desk. Wandering over, I smiled.

“I’ve got a delivery for Lorelei
Lansford?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied, wondering what
it could be. I signed the slip and the delivery guy handed me a
letter before leaving.

Bex materialized from the office, her heels
clicking across the polished concrete floors. “Who’s that
from?”

I turned it over, but there was
no reply address on the envelope. It was some posh, oversized
letter that screamed party invite. Who did I know that would send
an invite to the gallery?

“I have no bloody clue.”

“Looks fancy,” Bex said. “Open it then!”

Breaking the seal with a
fingernail, I pulled out a card printed on heavy, cream-colored,
stock paper. Turning it over, I realized it was handwritten in some
fancy calligraphy. Black and gold, my full name right at the
top.

It was a party invitation, but not the kind
I was expecting. My gaze ran over the words Sebastian and Vaughn
and I almost died right there on the spot. So, that’s who he was.
The bad boy of the West End. Bloody hell, and he made my knickers
wet! I felt myself flushing. Was I outraged or excited that he’d
flirted with me? I decided on outraged.

“
Shit, Bex,” I declared, my
mouth dropping open.

She snatched the invitation
from my fingers. “Fancy,” she said, then her jaw dropped.
“Sebastian Vaughn?
The
Sebastian Vaughn?”

“
It’s just a
party invite,” I said, trying to be flippant about it. Should I
tell her about our disastrous interlude on the street yesterday?
No, knowing Bex she wouldn’t shut up about it.
That
, she would say,
is fate
. Hopeless more like
it.

“Black tie,” she said with a whistle. “How
do you know him?”

I flushed.

“Lorrie! Are you holding out on me?”

I sighed. “I don’t know him at
all,” I said, trying to downplay the whole thing. Because I didn’t.
I spoke to the guy for five seconds, he made me all kinds of horny
with a brush of his fingers and… He sought me out to invite me to a
party. That’s what this was, wasn’t it? He was interested?
If he was
interested, he would’ve asked you on a date
.

“Then why is he inviting you to a
party?”

“
I bumped into
him on the street the other day,” I replied, exasperated. “Quite
literally. I smashed his phone because I wasn’t looking where I was
going.” Bex’s face began to change and I knew she was about to go
all matchmaker on me. “
Don’t you dare, Rebecca
Hemsworth
.”

“Rich, handsome, ruthless… That guy has a
bad reputation,” she said. “Your mum is going to have a
coronary.”

“Nonsense,” I said, snatching the invitation
from her. “I’m twenty-five years old.”

“Yeah, and still single. It’s a wonder she
hasn’t arranged an alliance with some uptight Lord already.”

I groaned, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Don’t remind me.”

“You’ve been lucky so far, Lorrie. My
parents have me on constant rotation with all the eligible
bachelors in this town. It’s suffocating.” She shook her arms,
making a face. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts.”

The gallery phone began ringing in the
office and Bex rolled her eyes. “Saved by the bell,” she declared.
“We're going to continue this when I get back.”

The moment Bex disappeared to answer the
phone, I picked up the laptop from the front desk, cracked it open
and fired up a web browser. I typed in 'Sebastian Vaughn’, then
clicked to the images. A whole bunch appeared on the screen, mostly
black tie events, red carpets and some business oriented shots. He
was a big shot Financial Investor in the City. He’d get along well
with my father. I rolled my eyes and kept looking…or rather,
ogling.

I scrolled through the photos, occasionally
stopping to enlarge one. He really was handsome…and those women he
was photographed with… I couldn’t help it when I felt a stab of
jealousy. They were all beautiful and impeccably dressed. Flawless,
even. I wasn’t anything like that and he wanted me to come to his
party? Maybe it was just because of my father and his business
dealings. Maybe this was about money.

You’re such an incurable
romantic, Lorelei
.

That's it, I couldn’t go. I had to decline.
This was obviously about business alliances, not romance. I wanted
romance. No, I was staying away from this, no matter how much my
body wanted Sebastian Vaughn to ravish it.

“Lorrie!”

I jerked upright, slamming the laptop closed
with a snap. Bex was standing in front of me, her hands on her
hips.

“You were Googling that hot Sebastian guy,
weren’t you?”

I flushed.
Shit
.

“Lorrie, seriously?” She rounded the table
and opened the laptop. “Give us a look then.”

“Who was on the phone?” I asked, trying to
distract her.

“Oh, no,” she declared, wigging her index
finger at me. “You’re not getting out of this so easily.”

“What’s there to get out of?” I asked,
coyly.

“You are going to that party, Lorelei
Lansford, and that is final!” She rubbed her hands together in glee
and my stomach churned.

“Oh, god,” I said with a groan.

“I’m making you over!”

I felt sick.

The next evening, I stood in
the middle of Bex’s bedroom in her Notting Hill apartment, a pile
of dresses on her bed.

The shrew, I mean my
best
friend
, had
come good on her promise. She meant well, but I wasn’t sure this
was a good idea.

She’d preened and primped me,
doing my hair in a fancy curled up-do, making my face up with all
kinds of scary looking pencils, lipstick and powder, and finally
dressing me in some Vera Wang dress that probably cost in excess of
five thousand pounds. Top it off with a simple diamond necklace on
a fine gold chain, matching earrings and red Manolo Blahnik heels,
I felt like I was an overdone chicken.

I did like the dress, though.
It was a sleek, blood red, silk that hung on my willowy frame just
right, its low neckline simple, just skimming the top of my
cleavage. Demure, yet elegant.

Bex looked me over. “You
look
hot
.” She turned me around so I could look at myself in the
full-length mirror. “I’m so jealous!”

I stared at my reflection and could hardly
recognize the woman staring back at me. I ran my fingers over my
face, which was usually devoid of most makeup, and pouted my lips.
I never wore lipstick and the red that Bex had put on matched my
skin tone perfectly.

Whenever Mother made me go to charity
events, I always went for a natural look. I was uncomfortable as it
was and being made up into something I wasn’t never helped. But
right now, the woman who stared back at me with a full face of
harlot red lips… Well, she looked like she was a bloody movie
star.

“How did you do that?” I asked, open
mouthed.

“I didn’t do anything,” she replied,
laughing at my reaction. “You’re hot to begin with. Mr. Vaughn is
going to cum in his pants when he sees you.”

“
Bex
!” I shrieked, trying not to laugh. Secretly, I hoped he
did.

“Now, out you get and I want details. No
holding out on me, you hear?”

I rolled my eyes and gave her a hug. “Thanks
for the dress.”

As I escaped outside, where a
car was waiting for me, I hoped that I was doing the right thing. I
was a romantic, Sebastian was a playboy. In what world would that
work out? Not this one, I was certain of it.