The Billion Dollar Bad Boy (8 page)

You stupid prick. Did you think you’re the only one she drops her mask for?

He shoved that thought away, watching as a flare of interest passed over St. James’s face, the man’s smile widening. He leaned down, his mouth close to Victoria’s ear, murmuring something to her. His hand drifted to the small of her back. That protective, possessive gesture.

A raw, primitive, and wholly unfamiliar feeling flooded Donovan, his muscles tensing in preparation to go over there and tell that son of a bitch to take his hands off her.

He’d even taken the first step when he caught himself, aware suddenly of what he’d been about to do.

What the fuck? He didn’t get jealous. He never got jealous. Jealousy implied that he gave a shit and he didn’t give a shit.

What have you done to me?

Nothing. He’d done nothing to her. And she’d done nothing to him.

And maybe she was right. Maybe they should call it done. Maybe it was over and he should let it go. Let what happened in the limo, stay in the limo.

At that moment, she turned her head, her cool gaze catching his. And he felt the electricity arc between them. Electricity that shouldn’t still be there and yet, inexplicably, was.

With a conscious effort he relaxed his muscles. Settled back against the bar. Held her gaze.

She’d said she was going to give him a couple of hours before she’d find him to “discuss” the De Winter offer, and she had. Pity. Earlier he might have been up for further “discussion.” But not now.

Because it wasn’t
her
that was important.

It was his birthright. His legacy.

And he was going to keep it no matter what offers Victoria de Winter came up with.

No matter what his damn brother said.

“Over there, by the bar,” Alex St. James whispered in Victoria’s ear. “I think Donovan Morrow wants to kill me.”

She turned her head and looked because she couldn’t help it.

Sure enough, she spotted him through the crowd, leaning back against the matte black bar, looking dissolute and thoroughly disreputable with his tie loose and his collar undone. He was smiling but it was razor sharp, and when his gaze met hers, all the air in her lungs abruptly disappeared.

“Well, unless you have some competing docklands real estate to sell me, then I can’t think why,” she said, pleased with how cool her voice was.

“I can think of a reason. And it doesn’t have anything to do with real estate.”

Victoria made herself look away from Donovan, trying to get her breathing under control. “Like what? We’re doing business together.”

“Men don’t look at women like that over business, darling.”

“Men shouldn’t look at women like that at all.”

Alex gave a soft laugh. “But where’s the fun in that? Don’t worry, Victoria, I’m the very soul of discretion.” He stepped away from her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to your … business. I have some other women I need to go and harass.”

Victoria flicked a glance back over to where Donovan stood at the bar. He had the fingers of one hand curled around an empty crystal whiskey tumbler, the other hand in his pocket, leaning there casual and slightly bored. As if he was standing at a bus stop waiting for a bus.

As she met his eyes again, the smile that curved his sensual mouth lost its sharp edge and softened with an echo of heat. He lifted a brow at her in a silent question, then took his hand out of his pocket, glancing down at his watch rather pointedly.

Irritation crept down her spine. He didn’t want to discuss this deal anyway so why was he acting all impatient about it? She’d been on her way to talk to him when Alex St. James had waylaid her. And you didn’t say no to Alex St. James. No one did.

A small vibration came from her phone in the beaded clutch she held. No prizes for guessing what that was about. Her father, probably. As soon as she’d gotten out of the limo, she’d had a De Winter minion courier her over a dress so that she didn’t have to wear her suit to the party, changing quickly in one of the 2
^nd
Circle’s opulent powder rooms. No doubt her father had found out about the dress and wanted to know exactly what the hell she was doing attending a Morrow party.

Victoria took her phone out and glanced down to check the text. Sure enough, a text from her father glowed on the screen.
What the hell are you doing at Jax Morrow’s party?

Damn. She hadn’t wanted to talk with him until the deal was in the bag.

Quickly, she sent him back a response.
A deal, Dad. You’ll see.
Then she turned off her phone to prevent him from harassing her further, and put it back in the clutch. She steeled herself. And began to move through the crowd to the bar.

Donovan watched her all the way, that charming, insolent smile curling his mouth. But something glowed in the depths of his eyes. Something hard. Something determined.

It made her heart speed up and excitement gather in her throat.

Why was the thought of matching wills with him again so thrilling? So much more intoxicating than the one glass of champagne she’d allowed herself? God. It didn’t bear thinking about. Especially when all those kinds of thoughts kept leading back to one place: the limo.

“Ah, Ms. de Winter,” Donovan said as she approached the bar, his voice full of lazy heat. “At last. You said two hours and it’s a couple of minutes past that now. I was getting anxious.”

“Really? And here I was thinking you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course I want to talk about it. I mean, who wouldn’t want to ruin a perfectly good party by discussing business?”

“So, have you had a chance to consider my earlier offer?” She found herself clutching her purse somewhat more tightly than she should have been. “I’ll get a better deal together and we can meet tomorrow.”

Donovan made a soft humming sound, looking down into his tumbler as he did so, a meditative look on his face. “A better deal. Tomorrow. It’s an attractive offer, I have to admit.”

Victoria stayed quiet. . He was going to go for it, he was. The land would be hers and finally she would have done something right.

Finally her father would realize what he had in her.

That she might not have the de Winter blood but she was a de Winter in everything else that mattered.

Donovan looked up from his glass, still smiling. But there was a hard gleam in his eyes. “Yes, a very attractive offer. But the answer, Victoria, is no.”

She fought to keep the disappointment off her face. “What? No, the offer isn’t good enough? Or no, you want more time to consider?”

He straightened against the bar, placing his tumbler very precisely down on top of it. Then looked at her, his eyes hard chips of turquoise. “The answer is no, I will never sell Morrow land. Not to you. Not to anyone.”

Shock coursed down her spine but she held herself strong against it. Refused to let it get to her. “You’re bluffing.”

He leaned back on his elbow, quirked a brow. “You think?”

“Your brother wants to sell it.”

“My brother is wrong. It’s Morrow land and it’s staying in Morrow hands.”

No, she was not going to let him have this. She was not going to let him take this deal from her, not now when she was so close. She’d never let a deal she wanted slip through her fingers. She wasn’t about to let this one go now.

She took a deep, silent breath, controlling the shock and surge of anger. Made herself give him a cool smile in return. “Does Jax know you’ve decided not to sell?”

His expression didn’t change but she saw the slight flicker in his eyes. So slight she might have missed it if she hadn’t been watching. “This,” Donovan said in a hard voice, “has nothing to do with Jax.”

So he didn’t want his brother to know. Finally, she had leverage.

Victoria leaned her hip against the bar. “Hasn’t it? I wonder what he’d say if he knew that you’re refusing our—let’s face it—more than generous offer.”

The lines of Donovan’s features hardened. He was not smiling at all now, anger glowing in the depths of his eyes.

And perversely, all she felt was more excitement building in her chest, in her throat. Excitement that she’d made him drop that lazy, taunting playboy mask he wore. That she’d made him reveal himself.

“I mean,” she went on, sensing her advantage, “if you’re not amenable, I could even take it to him directly. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to—”

He moved, so fast she didn’t have time to get away, his hands on her hips, pulling her close. She froze, heat radiating out from where his hands touched her, stealing her breath, stealing all thought.

His mouth was at her ear, his breath feathering the side of her neck, all warmth and the smokiness of the whiskey he’d been drinking. “Don’t. You. Dare.” Each word soft, firm. Then he leaned in further, took her earlobe between his teeth, and, very gently, bit her.

It felt like she’d stuck her finger in a power socket, a surge of electricity shooting straight through her. Making her move instinctively, without a thought, uncaring of where they were, turning her head so her mouth met his sensual taunting one. Conducting the current between them into one hot, aching endless loop.

Everything stopped. There was nothing but this moment. Nothing but her mouth on his and the heat that echoed and reverberated through them.

Donovan pulled away after what felt like eons, his eyes so dark the color looked obscured by thunderclouds. “Don’t do this,” he said quietly. “Not business. Not tonight.”

She was shaking. Trembling, and she couldn’t stop. She wanted to say something, something cool and flippant to take charge of the conversation, take charge of the moment. But he was so close, the scent of him reminding her of what had happened between them in the limo. All that heat, that blinding pleasure …

“What else can I do?” Her voice was uncertain, hoarse from an honesty she was unfamiliar with. “What else is there?”

“You know.” His fingers moved along her jaw, cupping her cheek. “I can show you.”

Of course she knew. He’d given her a taste back in the limo.

What about the deal? What about James?

His thumb brushed along her lower lip and sparks scattered through her, bright as the Milky Way.

She had to get back on track here. She had to take charge. “Your brother,” she began.

Donovan pressed his thumb against her mouth, only a slight increase in pressure, but it stopped the words dead. “No,” he said softly. “Leave it behind, Victoria. Just for now. Just for tonight.”

“I can’t leave it behind.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own.

“Yes, you can. I can show you how.”

“There’s James …”

Donovan’s hand fell away and she swore she could still feel the imprint of his thumb against her lips. Like he’d burned her, marked her indelibly with his fingerprint. “It’s up to you. I won’t force you.”

She stared up at him, feeling weirdly like she was losing something. “I can’t,” she repeated and she didn’t know who she was trying to convince. Him or herself. “You know I can’t. I have a fiancé. And there’s the deal.”

He said nothing. Only looked at her. And she felt like he was seeing through her. Like she was one of those buildings in a Hollywood movie set, all facade with nothing behind it.

There is something behind it. You know there is.

“If you want to find out what else there is,” he said. “Come and find me.”

Then he stepped away.

“Mr. Morrow.”

He turned.

“Donovan.”

And vanished into the crowd.

Victoria stood there staring after him, her heartbeat unnaturally loud, the blood effervescing in her veins. Fizzing like Champagne. She could still feel his teeth against her earlobe, the touch of his lips against hers.

Come and find me.

She couldn’t, of course she couldn’t. She had to close this deal. That was more important. And then there was James. The man she was going to marry. The get-out-of-jail-free card was a one-shot thing and she’d used it.

Leave it behind. Just for tonight.

Victoria turned from the shifting crowd, leaning against the bar, having to catch her breath as a wave of something hot and intense pulsed through her. Longing.

Why couldn’t she do this? Why couldn’t she leave it behind? Just for one night. Surely one night wouldn’t matter? Surely it wouldn’t hurt? There really wasn’t any time pressure with the deal, only herself and her own impatience.

She could have one night, couldn’t she?

The music throbbed, the sound of the crowd swirling like smoke. Belatedly she took a quick scan around to see if anyone had spotted her and Donovan together but no one was looking in her direction. No one had seen.

Victoria took a couple of steps toward the end of the bar, where it was slightly quieter, fumbling in her purse for her phone. Bringing it out and punching in a number.

It rang for a while before a familiar voice answered, sounding thick and sleepy. “Victoria?”

Her fingers tightened on the hard metal of the phone. “Hi, James. I’m sorry, I know it’s late there …”

“Is everything okay? You sound like you’re at a party.”

“I’m fine.” Why was she calling him? What on earth did she mean to say? “I just … I used it. I used the ‘get out of jail free’ card.”

There was a silence at the other end of the phone. Then he said, “Good.” And he didn’t sound upset or angry. Or worried. Or even curious. “Is that all?”

Victoria stared at the crowd, dancing and laughing, talking and drinking. Having fun. Leaving it all behind, just for the night. “No,” she said hoarsely. “That’s not all. I want to use it again.”

Another silence. Longer this time.

“Victoria,” James said, and he didn’t sound sleepy this time. “Here’s the thing.” And there was another pause. “You see … I’ve met someone.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I didn’t intend for it to happen. I mean,
we
didn’t intend for it to happen. But it has and … I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Another pause. “This wedding … I don’t think I can marry you after all.”

The crowd shifted and swirled, and it felt as if a weight she hadn’t realized was pressing down on her had been taken away and there was all this room to expand. To breathe.