The Billionaire's Forbidden Desire (17 page)

He spun his chair around. The sun shone through his ceiling-high windows; outside the city of Los Angeles winked and sparkled, from the chrome-and-glass office towers to the shimmering sea beyond. It seemed like a vista of possibilities.

What would he have done with Sophia if Salazar hadn’t been in the picture?

If Sophia had come to Dane and asked for help, he would’ve given her money. Maybe even found a place for her to stay. Her father had apparently left her broke, and Dane had more money than he could spend in ten lifetimes. She hadn’t finished college—she’d said she hadn’t even started when they’d met three years ago—so he would have helped her graduate.

Her ability to see through his layers always made him apprehensive. He didn’t want her to get too close, unveil too much, but she intrigued him like no one else and had lingered in his mind for three years. That was an awfully long time…especially for someone like him.

So his reaction to her had been tainted by Salazar’s presence. The comment about “leftovers” had goaded him. But there hadn’t been any hint of impropriety between Salazar and Sophia at the family mansion. Dane squinted into the sun, considering. If he had to put a word on the way his father was treating her, it would be “fatherly”…even if Salazar
had
let her drive the Aston Martin.

Salazar had said he was continuing a game nobody else wanted to play. And he knew the power of perception better than anybody. Dane could very well be dancing to his father’s tune.

Dane stood up, running a hand over his mouth. Then he turned and looked at his austere, utilitarian office. On the other side of the right-hand wall was Sophia.

Fuck Salazar
. It was about time he started doing what the hell he wanted.

Heart pounding, Sophia tiptoed back to her desk. The memo in her hand trembled; she realized it was actually her hands that were shaking.

She plopped into her seat.

She hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself either. The furious, barely controlled voice had made it impossible to move. She’d never heard Dane sound like that before.

If she hadn’t heard it with her own ears, she wouldn’t have believed his parents had treated him with such calculated cruelty, but Dane hadn’t been lying about the way he’d grown up. There had been an ocean of raw hurt beneath his contemptuous words.

She placed the memo on her desk and took a deep breath. Dane mustn’t know she’d overheard the phone call. It would only upset him, and there was no telling how he’d react. He seemed to have a knack for putting the worst spin on everything—not surprising, given what she’d just heard—and she didn’t want any misunderstandings between them.

The intercom buzzed. “Sophia, can you come into my office for a moment?”

She composed her features before entering. Dane’s face was as calm and placid as if he’d just come from having a pleasant afternoon tea with someone. If she hadn’t heard the conversation, she would’ve never known he’d just had a knock-down drag-out with his mother.

Ice water flows in his veins
.

Elizabeth’s words came back to her. That was one interpretation for his reaction. Or maybe he’d forced himself to be cold and unfeeling so nothing could touch him. A man with ice water for blood wouldn’t have drunk all that scotch over the death of his grandmother.

“I need the memo on yesterday’s pitches.”

She’d left it on her desk. “I’ll bring it right away.”

“Also make dinner reservations for the rest of this week and next, but not tonight.”

“For how many people and do you have any preferences?”

“Two. There should be a list of acceptable restaurants filed under F for ‘Favorite Restaurants.’ Pick whichever look good to you.”

She nodded.

“And make sure to have everything finished by six sharp. I need to leave the office by then.”

“Okay.”

“Excellent. See you at six.”

* * *

Sophia had lunch at her desk, trying to get everything done. Before coming to work at the company, she’d assumed Dane had cruised through life using his family’s wealth and connections. But he worked harder and more efficiently than anyone she’d ever seen, and he demanded the very best from all his employees.

No wonder most people tiptoed around him. The only exception was Blake, but he didn’t work out of the L.A. office much or answer to anyone.

Dane finally emerged from a series of meetings and came over to her desk. Sophia glanced at the clock on her laptop. Exactly six o’clock.

“Ready?” he asked.

She got up, grabbing her purse and briefcase, which was stuffed with documents she wanted to go over after dinner.

Dane drove them, coping with hellish traffic. Unlike most of the other drivers on the road, he didn’t look like he was on the verge of losing his patience. His expression betrayed very little.

She stared outside, pretending she was in a different kind of car. Maybe a Ferrari or Mustang. Anything but a Lamborghini.

“Why don’t you like being in a car?” he asked.

Startled, she swiveled her head his way. “What?”

“You’re always tense. I’ve seen people react the way you do when they fly, but not in a car.”

“Oh. It’s just… Traffic makes me nervous.”

“No one will hit us, don’t worry.” He checked the time. “Six thirty. Dinner before heading back to the family mansion.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” She added, “I don’t need dinner.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t have to diet anymore.”

She blinked. When had she said that? Oh wait…in Mexico. She couldn’t believe he still remembered. “I don’t, but I’m sure the housekeeper made something nice. I don’t want to disappoint her.”
I have to stretch the two hundred bucks I won from you
,
and I don’t think I can afford the kind of restaurants you go to
.

“She’s used to it. It won’t be the first meal the family ended up not eating. And don’t worry about the money either,” he said. “I’ll pay.”

Her cheeks heated. “Do you ever think about how rude you sound?”

“What’s wrong with what I said?”

“Pointing out that you have money and I don’t? Kind of not cool.”

“You’re over-thinking it like most people. I never pointed out that you didn’t have any, even though I know that’s true. Money is something people use at their pleasure. It would please me very much to buy you dinner.”

“Why? You don’t even like me that much.”

“That’s not true. I like you well enough. And I certainly like your body. I liked it in Mexico. I like it more now.” His gaze lingered over her. “It’s fuller…softer.”

She sputtered at his bluntness. It was that or melt, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself. From anybody else the comment would’ve been offensive, even creepy. She’d had her share of stalkerish emails and notes. But when Dane said it, need pulsed through her. Suddenly it felt too warm in the car.

“Isn’t this some kind of sexual harassment?” she said. Any excuse to make him stop before she did something stupid, like throw herself at him again. That hadn’t ended so well three years ago.

“I suppose”—a corner of Dane’s mouth crooked up—“unless the woman likes it. If you can swear under oath that you found something I said objectionable, I’ll stop this instant.”

That was unfair. He’d made her feel a lot of things with what he’d said, but objectionable wasn’t one of them. Intellectually she felt like she should be at least annoyed or scandalized that he could talk so baldly. But she couldn’t deny a part of her was thrilled to hear him say he wanted her.

Thankfully, they arrived at the restaurant. She focused on the line of people outside. “Unless you have a reservation—”

“Which I don’t need.”

“—we won’t get a table here.”

Dane gave her a superior smile. “Watch.”

A valet hurried over to take his key, and an attendant opened the door for her. The exterior had oddly shaped trees and shrubs that looked like a topiary seascape, especially with colored lights beaming on them from the ground. A sign with swoopy, elegant writing read
La Mer
. The name seemed familiar.

The maître d’ in a perfectly pressed tux greeted Dane as they walked inside. “Good evening, Mr. Pryce.”

“A table for two.”

“Certainly.”

A tall blonde in a black dress came out and led them to a table. As they walked into the main area of the restaurant, Sophia felt her jaw go slack.

Dane leaned over. “You’re going to catch flies.”

She flushed.

They wove their way through aquarium walls full of exotic tropical fish. Unlike some restaurants that showcased fish destined to be made into meals, none of the specimens were for consumption. The bluish light and gentle movements of the fish were soothing, and the restaurant glowed like a magical underwater world.

Diners in the latest fashions and bedecked with jewelry conversed softly as they ate, their silverware clinking. The perfume in the air alone was probably worth more than a brand new Mercedes. Chopin played from speakers embedded in the ceiling and columns.

The woman stopped at a private booth. “I hope you find this acceptable, Mr. Pryce.”

“It is,” Dane said.

Sophia sat down and looked around, trying not to seem too overwhelmed. “I can see why you said it’s one of those places you have to come see. Is this”—she gestured at their booth—“a perk of being Mark’s brother? Or does he owe you a favor too?”

“Both, actually. But if you ask he’ll deny that he owes me anything.”

“Why? Is he the ungrateful type?”

“He thinks I tried to sabotage his relationship by giving his girlfriend a ride into the city once. Never mind that she climbed into my car without asking. It’s not my fault he can’t control his woman.”

Just then a waiter appeared. Dane ordered a five-course meal featuring lightly seared sea bream and green sauce. She hadn’t been sure what to get—the menu didn’t have prices or even much information—so at the end, she followed Dane’s lead.

The service was fast and efficient without being intrusive. The waiter seemed to be invisible until he was needed. The sea bream melted in her mouth, the sauce just right to compliment the flavor of the meat without overwhelming it with herbs.

“This is amazing,” she commented, savoring each bite.

“Worth skipping dinner at home, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And I feel kind of disloyal.”

“Why? This is better and that’s the truth.”

“But I feel like I shouldn’t say it out loud, you know?” She licked the sauce on her lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. She looked away as her face warmed. She shouldn’t put much stock into this dinner. It undoubtedly meant nothing to him. “There’s something about you that makes me more direct than I would normally be.”

“Do you prefer lies?”

“Of course not.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “Does honesty make you uncomfortable?”

“Sometimes, but it’s preferable. And refreshing.”

“So my guess was right. You have been surrounded by liars.”

“I’ve been surrounded by…doublespeak.” She’d loved competition, but she didn’t like confrontation. Skate federation officials and the media had always been careful to ensure that either they could cover their butt or elicit certain juicy responses out of her. She’d learned to be circumspect about what she’d said to avoid unnecessary drama.

“Is that how people excuse lying these days?”

“Easy for you to say. Who’s going to ding you for being blunt? Unless I’m mistaken, people want you to like them, not vice versa. I’ve seen people trying to get you to buy into their business ideas.”

Dane shook his head. “They’re wrong about that. I don’t need to like them to invest in their ideas. All they need to do is convince me that their business is going to add value to human lives, and therefore be profitable.”

That was probably true. He always seemed cold and remote in the office, prompting the complaints she’d heard from his staff. Would they have found him more human if their first interaction had been in Mexico or something similar?

She moved a piece of sea bream around, gathering up sauce, then chewed it thoughtfully. “So when are you moving out?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Moving out?”

“You lost the bet. I thought you’d give up and move back to your place.”

“The deal never said I had to leave.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Don’t tell me you enjoy living at home.”

“I wouldn’t use the word ‘enjoy.’ But it has its benefits.”

“If you still think I have ulterior motives—”

“I don’t trust Salazar.” Before she could say anything, he raised a hand. “I know you like him, but I don’t. He raised me, and I know what kind of a man he is. I don’t believe for a moment he’s going to be different with you. And there’s a further benefit…or torture, depending on how you look at it.”

“Which is?”

“You and I only have one wall between us.” He sipped his white wine. “Feel free to come by whenever you’re in the mood for a little dirty fun.”

Dane should’ve never been allowed to say things like that. Sophia flipped over—again—in her bed, unable to stop thinking about sneaking into his room, which was ridiculous and juvenile. Even though she hadn’t really dated while growing up, she knew that much.

Does it matter? Nobody’s going to know but you and him
,
and he’s not going to tell
.

Her conscience really had no morals whatsoever. Skank.

She sat up and stared at the door. Maybe her coming over had been just a suggestion. What he’d really meant was that he’d love to come over.

Annoyed she tossed herself back on the bed. She absolutely
had
to get some sleep if she wanted to be sharp the next day.

The next morning, he didn’t join her and Salazar for breakfast. But he paraded by topless again, sweat glistening on his exquisitely sculpted torso. She choked on her tea, and Al discreetly handed her a napkin.

Dane flashed her a grin, filched a croissant from her plate and vanished upstairs.

Bastard
.