The Billionaire's Forbidden Desire (18 page)

“I taught him better than that,” Salazar muttered, then turned to Sophia. “One of my sons is getting married next weekend, and I think you should come.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I wasn’t invited.”

“You can come as my guest. They’re expecting me to bring someone. Be good for you to meet the family anyway.”

“Let me think about it.”

“Make sure to take Friday afternoon off. The entire family’s going to the grove for dinner.”

She nodded noncommittally.

By the time she needed to leave for work, Dane was already at his car. He watched her climb in with a travel mug. “Coffee for me?” he said, his voice inscrutable.

“It’s actually green tea. Al said I should. If you want, I can go back—”

“Forget it.” Dane pulled away from the mansion. “We’ll be late if we let him make it. He’s too traditional.”

She frowned. “It’s just hot water and a tea bag.”

“Don’t say that in front of him. He’ll collapse from shock.” A small smile curved his mouth. “He brews it with clay pots and wooden scoops and everything. Watch him do it sometime. You’ll be amazed at the man’s patience.”

She sipped the tea. It did taste a bit different—grassier and more fragrant. Maybe Al really was a zen master of green tea.

“My brother Mark is getting married next weekend. You should go.”

She looked over at him. “I should?”

“It’s a good idea to meet the Pryces in the area, figure out who’s who. You are related to us, after all…even though it’s by marriage and in a fairly convoluted way.”

True enough. Maybe she really
should
go if Dane thought so as well.

“I know Mark didn’t invite you, so you can come as my guest.”

Uh oh
. She hadn’t seen that one coming. She cleared her throat and took another sip of her tea. “Um…yeah. Your father already asked.”

“He
what?
”

“Asked me. To the wedding.”

“Asshole,” he muttered under his breath.

She blinked.
Asshole?

When she got settled at her desk and checked Dane’s agenda for the morning, a delivery came. Surprisingly, it was for her. She signed for it, then opened the package. It was a gorgeous bouquet of white tiger lilies.

She read the accompanying card.

Hope you like lilies
.

–
D

Roxie came in with some papers. “Nice flowers! Who’re they from?”

Sophia shrugged, smiling for her coworker’s sake. “Not really sure. Excuse me, I need to brief Dane on the day’s agenda.” She stuck the card in the stack in her arm and went inside his office before Roxie could pepper her with more questions.

Dane looked up from his coffee mug. “Yes?”

“Your morning agenda.” She gave him the list.

Dane ran his eyes rapidly down the page. “Tell Stevenson I’m not going to meet him after all.”

“Got it.” She jotted a note down on her pad. “Before I go, I can ask you something?”

He nodded.

She showed him the card. “Is this ‘D’ you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

A smile curled his lips. “I always sign cards that way, because ‘DP’ would send the wrong signal. I never, ever share.”

She stood nonplussed for a moment before deciding that he’d misunderstood her question on purpose. But pressing him would be futile, especially since she had no idea what he was talking about. She nodded and returned to her desk, then googled “DP.”

The search results made her jaw drop.
Double penetration
.

The entry also included “related acronyms,” all designed to inform the naïve like her. DAP, double anal penetration. DVA—

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she closed the browser, holding her forehead in one hand.

Later that day, when she went to give him his afternoon coffee, she said, “You could’ve used your full name.”

“I could have.” His tone was as grave as a minister’s, but his eyes twinkled. “But that would make it even more inappropriate. My middle name is Adam.”

Her mouth formed an O as her cheeks grew hot.

“Don’t worry. I’m not the only one in the family with shitty initials.”

Was this one of the ways his parents had fought each other?

Sophia had been neglected, but none of her parents had actively used her to make a point with each other. Shame surged at the way she’d called him an entitled jerk who’d had too much privilege. Material abundance could never make up for emotional scars. She shouldn’t have judged him without knowing anything about his personal struggles.

At six thirty, Dane pulled up at the restaurant where she’d made his reservation for that evening. “Let’s go.”

“Aren’t you meeting someone?” she asked.

“Why would you think that?”

She looked at him. “You can’t possibly mean to buy me dinner for the next two weeks.”

“Of course I’m going to buy you dinner. It would be cruel to have you wait in the car while I eat.” His voice dropped half an octave. “Like I said before, I don’t like to eat with my family.”

He meant he didn’t like to eat with Salazar. Knowing what she knew, she couldn’t blame him. She nodded and they went inside.

And so the rest of the week went. Roxie and Amy wanted to know who kept sending flowers to her in the morning, but Sophia demurred, not wanting to be the center of office gossip. She might not have much corporate work experience, but she knew any kind of romantic entanglement with a boss was a big deal.

Thankfully he was always so cold and formally polite that nobody in the office suspected he was the one behind all the bouquets. But he was impossible at the family house. He paraded around topless, stole danishes and slices of bacon from her plate every morning—making sure to somehow brush her with his arm or hand each time—and made double-entendres when saying good night. If all that wasn’t bad enough, he spoiled Roco by sneaking him treats and taking him out for runs. She could withstand a lot, but kindness to Roco…

On Sunday, Dane was out playing fetch with her dog. Sophia went up to him, determined to put an end to the whole thing.

Her traitorous heart picked up its tempo at the sight of him scratching Roco behind the ears. The poodle’s eyes had turned into slits of bliss. Then Dane stood and threw a stick halfway across the field they were in. Roco dashed off.

“Okay, you have to stop.”

“Roco will be disappointed,” he said, taking off his shirt and pretending to wipe imaginary sweat from his lean, muscular torso.

She flushed in spite of herself, and tried clearing her throat authoritatively. “I’m not talking about my dog, and you know it. What kind of game are you playing?”

“What makes you think it’s a game?”

“You promised to treat me fairly, and now you’re sending me flowers, playing with Roco…”

“Is it working?”

“If you’re trying to drive me crazy, yes.”

Dane laughed. “I’m treating you the way I would have if my father weren’t in the picture. You should appreciate the time and effort I’m putting in. I’ve never bought flowers for a woman I wanted to sleep with.”

His bald confession took her breath away. Her body tingled, and heat gathered between her thighs. “Is that what this is about? You’re trying to get me to sleep with you?”

“I’m not trying to get you to do anything.” Dane crouched and patted Roco as he brought the stick back. “The ball’s entirely in your court. Yes, I want to sleep with you, but I’m not sure what you want.” He threw the stick again, and Roco charged off, barking excitedly. Dane straightened and faced her. “You lost a lot after your father passed away, mostly the ability to do as you please. Your choices became limited. I don’t want you to be pushed into something you aren’t sure about.” He rested a large, warm hand on the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “There are a lot of things we have no say in. Sex shouldn’t be one of them.”

“Then stop sending me flowers and taking me out to dinner.”

“No. Flowers signal to other men that you already have someone who’s very interested, and they cheer you up.” He tilted his head. “Unless I’ve misjudged. Are diamonds more your thing?”

“Absolutely not!” she sputtered, thinking,
Better nip this in the bud
.

He moved the hand down and rubbed her back, the gesture comforting and caring. And suddenly she couldn’t remember why she’d been upset with him. She hadn’t been touched like this in so long that she hadn’t even realized she missed it.

“Finally,” he continued, “I don’t eat with my family because I don’t particularly enjoy indigestion. So the dinners aren’t all for your sake.”

“I don’t understand you,” she said. “It wasn’t just your dad that made you change. You left without a word in Mexico.”

Something in his expression shifted. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t mean I won’t understand. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were.” He took the stick from Roco and threw it again.

She narrowed her eyes when he didn’t elaborate. All this mysterious behavior and lack of explanation was getting old. “Why didn’t you say hello at Dad’s funeral?”

His eyebrows rose. “You knew I was there?”

“I felt it.”

“I didn’t want to stir anything up.” He looked at the wildflowers they were standing in. “Geraldine can hold a grudge for life. She married Julian despite her mother’s opposition, and she’s still angry that she proved Shirley right.” Pain flitted through his gaze. “I promised Shirley I’d be kind to her. Her deathbed wish. Couldn’t break it.”

Sophia bit her lower lip, then tentatively put an arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. He took her hand and squeezed. Elizabeth had been mistaken. Ice water didn’t flow in his veins. He cared a great deal about his family; he’d just chosen not to show it.

Sweetness as thick as honey seeped through her, and she closed her eyes. She’d never been this emotionally in tune with another person before, and she didn’t want anything to shatter the fragility of the moment.

On Wednesday morning, two bouquets arrived just as she returned to her desk from the break-room. Sophia signed for the one from “D” and then studied another one.

“You sure about this?” she asked the delivery man.

The guy snapped his gum. “Says two for Sophia Reed.”

Why would Dane send two? It must’ve been a mistake. She opened the card on the other one—a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums. Her heart started slamming against her chest, but she calmed herself. She’d been out of the spotlight long enough that it couldn’t possibly be—

Hope you’re doing well
.

–
Your greatest fan
.

Her fingers shook. There was only one person who signed his cards that way. He had been one of her most persistent stalkers. Chad had spent a lot of time and money trying to find out who he really was, but everything had led to a dead end.

Goosebumps rose along her spine.
He
knew where she was, and now she no longer had Chad to keep her safe.

“These aren’t mine,” she said, pushing the chrysanthemums back at the delivery man.

“You sure? Aren’t you Sophia Reed?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She hugged herself. “Look, they aren’t mine. Take them back.” Just then her mobile buzzed. “I have to answer this. Just…please. I can’t sign for them.”

“All right.” He shrugged but took the flowers.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Sophia checked her phone.
Oh no
, she thought as she saw the new text.

It was from George.

She deleted it, unread. Why was he contacting her now? They had nothing to say to each other. It’d be better if they could pretend they didn’t know each other.

“Hello? Earth to Sophia.”

She snapped her head around. Roxie was peering at her. “Are you okay?”

Sophia managed a smile. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You look like you saw a ghost. Why don’t you sit down?” Roxie pulled a chair over.

Sophia didn’t object. Her legs felt like pasta noodles. When her phone buzzed again, she turned it off.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Roxie asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. Do you have time to go over the Havergill memo?” Sophia said, desperate to not think about George or the stalker. “I want to make sure it looks okay.”

Roxie gave her a couple of raised eyebrows, but nodded. “Okay. Let’s check it over.”

Sophia kept herself busy all day long. She didn’t want even a second of down time to dwell on the incidents that morning.

Dane finally emerged from a series of meetings and came over to her desk. Sophia glanced at the clock on her laptop. Six thirty sharp.

“Ready to head out?” he asked.

She nodded, and they left together. If her coworkers noticed that she always left with him, they didn’t comment.

She still couldn’t get used to the Lamborghini, although she was better at controlling her nerves.

“You’re extra tense today,” he said, his voice casual.

“Before you start, it’s not the car,” she said. “I was just thinking about something.”

The stalker and George had been leering at her from the back of her mind no matter how she tried to not let them. She didn’t know how to shove them out of her head. Before, she’d had Chad to handle stuff like this. Most people didn’t want to mess with him, and his menacing glare had been enough to keep almost everyone away.

The fact that the stalker had found where she worked made her palms slick.
It’s okay
, she told herself. He’d never get to her so long as she wasn’t alone. She knew Dane would keep her safe.

As for George, he probably didn’t know where she was. And that was good enough.

She pulled out her phone and stared at the dark screen. She hadn’t turned it back on since the morning. Maybe…just possibly…he’d texted to say he was sorry. He knew she was his sister’s best friend. He’d also looked up to her father.

Keep dreaming
.
He knew all that before he tried to rape you
.

The engine died; the interior of the car plunged into silence. She looked up and blinked at the underground parking garage. She dropped her phone into her purse. “Where are we?”

“At my penthouse,” he said. “I need to get something.”