The Billion Dollar Bad Boy

Chapter 1

Donovan Morrow was in an unusually foul temper. He didn’t normally have this

problem, but today nothing was right. He didn’t want to sit in this damn meeting room.
He didn’t want to listen to this damn presentation. And most especially he didn’t want to
watch Victoria de Winter as she bustled around with a laser pointer, listing all the reasons
why Morrow should sell their historic docklands headquarters to the De Winter Group.

He didn’t want to sell the land at all. It was important to him and he had plans for it.

A claim to stake. The one piece of his family legacy that he’d decided he was going to call
his own.

A legacy he thought he’d want nothing to do with until his older brother Jax had called

him back into the family fold. And he’d decided he wanted a piece of it after all.

Unfortunately for him though, Jax wanted that legacy gone and had given him the

task of getting rid of it, apparently not giving a shit about the plans Donovan had.

Plans Jax refused to consider or even let him explain.
So that’s nothing new, is it?
No, it fucking wasn’t.
Now, to add insult to injury, he had to deal with someone else wanting that legacy,

that land that was rightly Morrow land. A woman who’d irritated the crap out of him since
the moment she’d walked in the door.

For a start he didn’t like redheads and she had flame red hair carefully pinned into a

prissy little bun. For another it was the kind of bun that begged to be unpinned and let
loose down her back. And then there was the neat, precise charcoal suit and her white
blouse with just a hint of ruffle, the skirt that seemed to outline every luscious curve of
her perfect little hourglass figure. But the final insult had to be the expression in her gray
eyes—cool, patronizing, condescending almost.

Yeah, that expression really got to him. . It reminded him far too much of the one his

uptight older brother used to give him. Like he was a kid who needed to be humored
rather than an adult with genuine concerns. But the thing that irritated him the most was
the fact that he was attracted like hell to her and that was the last thing he wanted to be
when his family’s land was on the table.

As Victoria finished up, Donovan leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands,

trying not to show his annoyance. “So that’s the best you can do?” he said. “Profit
sharing?”

A small crease appeared momentarily between her red brows as if she was puzzled

why he didn’t understand. “I thought I explained. A cut of the first year’s trading could be
extremely lucrative for you. It’s a very competitive offer, Mr. Morrow.”

“Only if your development is successful.”
She gave him a cool smile, both patient and patronizing at once. “We’ve had huge

success in similar developments over the past couple of years. There’s no reason to
expect this will be any different.” She turned, reaching to put down the laser pointer she’d

been carrying onto the nearby desk, and as she did so, the material of her tailored skirt
pulled tight over the curve of what was really quite a delectable ass.

Donovan scowled, a certain kind of heat gathering in his groin. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

That’s all he needed. A hard-on to complicate things. Man, it was the last thing he
wanted.

Sex and business were separate and he preferred to keep them that way.
Mercifully she straightened and turned back to him, that cool smile still plastered to

her face. “We’re a very successful company, Mr. Morrow. You won’t regret accepting our
offer, I can assure you.”

“Sure,” he conceded. “But there are no guarantees in business, Miss de Winter.”
“Of course not. Only calculated risks.” Her smile became a touch cooler. “And I prefer

‘Ms.’ if you don’t mind.”

Good Christ, the woman was uptight. “But ‘Ms.’ is so formal, don’t you think?” he said,

unable to resist the temptation of irritating her the way she was irritating him. “What if I
call you Victoria?”

She had a sweetly shaped mouth that thinned with the merest hint of annoyance. “No

thank you. Ms. is my preference.” She began to shut down the laptop she’d set up for her
presentation. “So do I take it you’ll consider our offer?”

Donovan contemplated her. She was packing up with small, precise movements. In

fact everything about her was small and precise. From her smooth red bun down to her
plain black pumps.

Who’d have thought that such a petite, perfectly put together woman would have had

such a ball-buster reputation? But she did. In fact, Victoria de Winter had a reputation for
an almost Morrow-like icy ruthlessness when it came to business.

What would it be like to melt all that ice? Muss up all that neatness?
Jesus, where the hell had that thought come from? Because he sure as shit wasn’t

going there with the de Winter ice princess. His damn dick could fixate on another
woman. Preferably one he wasn’t doing business with.

“Well, Mr. Morrow?” Victoria folded her arms, raising one delicate red brow.
The annoyance sitting in his gut coiled tighter. He didn’t want to consider her offer. He

didn’t want to get rid of the Morrow land at all. Shit, Jax had the company but what did
he have? Nothing.

Well, since he’d come back to Morrow Incorporated, he’d decided he was sick of

having nothing. That land was his due and he’d fucking earned it, especially considering
all the shit he’d done for Morrow before Patrick, his father, had driven him out of the
company.

He wasn’t going to let all that humiliation mean nothing.
Leaning forward in his chair, elbows on the desk in front of him, Donovan clasped his

hands. “I’ll be frank, Ms. de Winter.” He paused a little over the “Ms.” for emphasis. “Your
offer is unconvincing, especially when we’ve had a number of others that have been far
more competitive. So I’m afraid, unless you can come up with something more, we won’t
be doing business.”

Her expression did not change one iota. “With all due respect, I think our offer is more

than fair. If you—”

“Ah, but this isn’t about fairness,” he said, cutting her off. “This is about money.” He

let his hands drop to the arms of the chair. “And De Winter isn’t offering us enough.”

It was bullshit, of course. They had no other offers. After an exposé of the docklands

history had put Morrow’s criminal past back in the headlines, no one wanted to touch the
land with a barge pole. Which meant that if he wanted to be a good boy and do what big
brother said, he should be jumping at the De Winter offer.

But he wasn’t a good boy and he’d be damned if he was going to let Jax and his

autocratic behavior get in the way of what he wanted to do.

That land was his birthright. Jax may not want it but he did. Which meant he wasn’t

going to sell it to anyone, and that included prissy little Victoria de Winter.

A flash of silver glowed in the depths of her eyes, the first hint of genuine expression

he’d seen on her face since the meeting began. And against his will, a spark of interest
joined the attraction already simmering in his gut.

Was there something more than ice underneath that serene front of hers? Something

hotter?

No, he did not want to know. This was business. Strictly business.
“Give me half an hour,” she said, “and I’ll have a better offer together.”
Donovan made a show of glancing down at his watch. He wasn’t going to wait half an

hour and he had the perfect reason not to. Jax’s engagement party at the 2nd Circle—one
of New York’s most exclusive clubs—would be starting in half an hour, and being late
wouldn’t look good. Not that he gave a shit about punctuality, but Jax would give him hell
for it and his brother getting on his damn back about yet something else was the last
thing he needed.

He let out a regretful sigh. “No can do,” he said, pushing back his chair and getting to

his feet. “I have an engagement tonight and I’m already late.”

“Tomorrow then. I can get it to you first thing.”
He smiled the brilliant, dazzling smile that always flustered women and made them

forget what they were going to say. “Determined, aren’t you?”

Unfortunately Victoria de Winter remained unflustered. “I want this deal, Mr. Morrow,”

she said flatly.

Donovan smiled wider. “Naturally you want this deal. That’s why you’re here.”
Her red brows twitched, but her cool stare was unblinking. “Yes. It is why I’m here.

The question that puzzles me is, why are you?”

“Why am I what?”
“Why are you here?” She skirted around the desk, coming toward him, determined

and steely. “Because I’m getting the very distinct impression that you don’t want to be.”

Christ, she didn’t miss a thing, did she?
Her cool gray eyes looked up into his as if she was trying to see inside him, read all

his secrets. And now that she was close, he was suddenly aware of her scent, an
unexpectedly delicate, sweet scent, like jasmine or vanilla, and the soft vulnerability of
her throat, left exposed by the one undone button on her blouse.

He found himself staring at that throat, at the pulse beating there. Steady. Regular.

Wondering if he could make it beat faster. Harder.

Shit no. Keep your dick out of this. If you want sex, find someone at the party.
With an effort, Donovan pulled his gaze from her skin, back to meet her steely gray

stare. “I’m a busy man, Ms. de Winter,” he said smoothly. “But of course, if you need time
to get a better offer together, then I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.”
He smiled again, but again the smile just bounced off her like she was covered in Teflon.

Whipping her cell out of her pocket, she laid one long finger on the screen, scrolling

through something. “I have some time tomorrow, midday if that suits you.”

It didn’t suit him. In fact, no time at all would suit him. What he needed was a

meeting with his brother where he’d make the autocratic bastard listen to him for a
change. Lay out his plans for the area; make Jax see that the past wasn’t something you
could give away. It was something you had to keep. Learn from. And aside from anything
else, it was part of the Morrow family and he was going to make it his.

“Next week,” Donovan said, because it was clear that Victoria de Winter wasn’t going

to walk out of this room without some kind of date to put in that schedule of hers. “Friday
morning.”

Her scrolling finger paused, brows descending. “You’re a busy man, I’m a busy

woman. I need an answer sooner than that.”

Donovan kept smiling. “You want this deal, you’ll have to be patient. Remember the

saying, Ms. de Winter.”

She looked at him. “What saying?”
“Good things come to those who wait.”
That intriguing silver spark flickered in her eyes. The one that made him want to

linger, to see if he could make it spark higher. Turn it into something hotter. Watch that
gray become molten, quicksilver …

And for a second that spark leapt, her eyes widening as the space between them filled

with something else. A crackling, electric kind of pressure that had nothing whatsoever to
do with business. Sexual tension. Intense sexual tension.

Good things come …
He hadn’t intended the innuendo. But it was there all the same.
Abruptly her thick, dark lashes veiled her gaze as she put her cell back in the pocket of

her jacket. “I don’t do waiting, Mr. Morrow. I do business.” Her voice sounded level, but
he could hear the edge of something else underneath. A faint unsteadiness that hadn’t
been there before. And he knew what that meant. It meant she’d felt that tension, too.

Jesus, if this conversation had happened in a club or a party, basically anywhere else,

in any other context, he would have responded the way he always did to a woman he
wanted: he would have seduced her there and then.

But this wasn’t a club or a party. This was a meeting room in Morrow Inc. This was

business. And she was part of that business.

“Many apologies, Ms. de Winter,” he said. “But, I’m afraid you’re going to have to do

both.”

She did not like that. Not one bit. Her mouth thinned, her posture became stiff. “Mr.

Morrow—,” she began.

But as far as he was concerned, this meeting was over. “I’m sorry, but I’m late for my

brother’s engagement party already and I don’t have the time to discuss this further.
We’ll talk more on Friday.”

“Mr. Morrow—”
God, she wasn’t going to leave it alone, was she?
Donovan met her gaze. “Do you have an older brother, Victoria?”
Both the change of subject and the use of her name put her off guard. She blinked. “I

… uh … Yes. I do.”

“In that case, you’ll know what I mean when I say he’ll have my balls if I’m any later.”
She blinked again. “Well … I …”
Donovan smiled and extended a hand toward the door, feeling a not unwelcome burst

of satisfaction at finally—fucking finally—flustering her. “After you.”

Victoria de Winter didn’t turn around as the elevator doors closed. She clutched her

briefcase and hit the button for the ground floor, studiously ignoring the man standing
behind her.

Wonderful. She’d hoped Donovan Morrow would have lingered in his office after their

meeting, but no, he just had to go ahead and get into the elevator with her. As if she
didn’t hate everything about him enough already.

She’d never been able to understand the fuss the media made of him. He was the

face of Morrow Incorporated, the biggest company in New York, and yet according to all
the TV and magazine interviews she’d seen and read about, he gave the impression of
being a lightweight. An amateur. An arrogant playboy more interested in parties than he
was in business. He’d apparently run his own hugely successful public relations firm
before his brother had lured him back to work for the family company so he must have
been doing something right, but Victoria had no idea what it was.

The only certain thing was that having him shoot down her proposal was an

aggravation she did not need, especially since she hadn’t expected it. Rumor had it that
Jax Morrow was desperate to sell off the site of the old Morrow headquarters, so she’d
gone in there expecting to seal the deal.

Unfortunately, Donovan didn’t seem to be as desperate as his brother and that had

rattled her. He’d been charming but almost outright dismissive of the De Winter offer,
which had been wholly unacceptable.

That’s not the only thing that rattled you though …
Victoria’s jaw tightened.
His smooth, dark voice. The soft, deep laugh that seemed to slip under her skin and

wrap around her like an expensive fur coat. The easy, charming smile that turned the
corners of his long, sensual mouth. The ridiculously beautiful, masculine lines of his face,
all cheekbones, strong jaw, and the famous Morrow blue eyes.

But even worse had been the sheer charisma of the man. She’d seen it on TV but

she’d never guessed it would be so intense close up, that she’d find it difficult to breathe
as soon as those incredible blue-green eyes met hers. Impossible to prevent her heart
from racing when she’d made the mistake of getting too close to him.

And she hated that most of all.
She was not attracted to him. Not in the slightest.
“So,” Donovan drawled from behind her. “Got any exciting plans for this evening?”
Victoria kept her gaze firmly on the doors in front of her. In the meeting room she’d

had to fight to keep her reactions under control, to not let him see her stupid female
response to him. She couldn’t afford a crack in her armor like that. Any hint of weakness
could affect the balance of power, and when you were a woman in business that was a
very bad thing indeed.

“Nothing that would interest you, I’m sure,” she said levelly.
“With all due respect, you have no idea what would interest me.”
Aggravating man. Her hands shifted on her briefcase handle. “Very well, if you must

know, I’m going home.”

“Really? No parties? No night on the town with the girls?”
There was nothing but polite interest in his voice but it annoyed her all the same. “No.

Just home.”

“That doesn’t sound particularly exciting.”
“Not everyone is interested in parties or … whatever it is men like you like to do.”
“Men like me … Interesting phrase. And what is it that you think men like me like to

do?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. Sit around reading Tolstoy?” She shifted her hold on her

briefcase again, mentally going over what she’d have to report back to her father about
the meeting. He wouldn’t be happy about the offer being refused, that was for damn
sure.

But that would be okay. She was going to close this deal if it killed her.
Buying the iconic Morrow docklands estate was her baby. It had been de Winter land

nearly half a century ago, land the Morrows had cheated out of her father’s grandfather—
at least according to him. Cameron de Winter had wanted it back for years now and this
was her big chance to get it. And hopefully prove herself to him in the bargain.

Prove that she was worthy of the de Winter name and of being his daughter, and not

merely the adopted daughter he’d never wanted in the first place.

She could not afford to lose it.
“Tolstoy?” Donovan’s voice was bored. “If you’re going to insult my intelligence, at

least have the decency to be subtle about it.”

In the mirrored doors of the elevator she could see him behind her, leaning against

the rail that ran along the inside, arms braced along it, long fingers gripping the metal.
Wearing the tux he had on when she’d first arrived for the meeting, the bow tie undone
and hanging loosely around his neck. A couple of the top buttons of his shirt were also
undone, revealing the smooth tanned skin at the base of his throat.

God. So sexy.
His gaze caught hers in the mirrored doors. And one corner of his mouth curled up in a

smile so smug she knew he’d read her exact thought.

Crap.
Victoria tore her gaze away, her heart beating furiously. No, she wasn’t affected by

him. Not in any way. Other women might be falling over themselves to climb into his bed
but she wasn’t one of them. Not even if he was the last man on earth.

She had James, her fiancé, for a start.
“Subtle?” And thank God she sounded cool and together, not like some breathless

teenager. “I wasn’t sure you’d be familiar with the concept of subtlety.”

He laughed, which only aggravated her more because it was so damn sexy. “Well,

that’s true. It isn’t my strong point.”

In the doors she saw him move, pushing himself away from the rail. Straightening to

his full height, which must have been well over six feet since he completely dwarfed her.

Victoria froze as he took a step toward her, but he didn’t do anything else. Merely

stood behind her. Towering over her. Like he had back up in the meeting room. When she
had to stand so very still because moving would have given her away. Close enough to
catch the scent of his aftershave. Unexpected that he didn’t drench himself with
overpowering scents the way some men seemed to. No, Donovan’s was understated.
Luxurious. With hints of sandalwood and musk.

You like it.
No. Of course she didn’t.
“You don’t like me at all, do you?” he said conversationally.
Victoria ignored her physical responses, willing herself to remain cool and calm.

“Actually, Mr. Morrow, I have no feelings about you either way.”

He gave a soft laugh, one that feathered down her spine, making her shiver. “Bullshit.

You know what I think?”

“I’m not interested in what you think.”
“I think you have definite feelings about me.”
Victoria gritted her teeth, staring straight in front of her, bitterly conscious that all she

needed to do was take a step back and she’d be pressed up against all that male heat.
All that powerfully built muscle and smooth, brown skin …

Her breath caught. God, this was crazy. She’d never had such a reaction to a man

before. Back in college she’d had a couple of steady boyfriends, ones her father approved
of, and though she’d enjoyed their company, they’d never made her breathless. Never
made her heart beat fast or her skin feel so sensitive she could feel every inch of clothing
pressing against it.

Not even James makes you feel like that.
No, he didn’t. But sex wasn’t as important as people made out and it certainly wasn’t

why she was marrying him.

“I hate to say it,” she said, trying to inject a small touch of boredom into her voice,

“but you’re flattering yourself.” Steeling herself, she turned and met his turquoise eyes. “I
really have no interest in you one way or another.”

He smiled down at her, lazy and sensual and so unbearably sexy. “You know, you

really shouldn’t say things like that to a man like me.”

“Why not?” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to threaten me with a little Tolstoy

perhaps? A few pages of Anna Karenina? A chapter of War and Peace?”

The amusement in his eyes deepened, taking on a wicked glint that had her catching

her breath. His gaze flicked down her body, then back up again. “Perhaps I should.
Judging from the way you’re blushing and the fact that your pupils are dilated, I’d say
Tolstoy turns you on more than you’d like to admit.”

Oh, hell. Something turned over inside her and for the first time since she’d met him,

she caught a glimpse of why women fell over themselves to get into his bed. That smile.
That naughty glint in his eyes …

She swallowed, forcing away the feelings. Holding up her hand instead, the one with

James’s diamond sparkling on it, she gave her fingers a wiggle. “Read me all the Tolstoy
you want. I’m afraid I’m already taken.”

“Pretty.” Yet his gaze wasn’t on the ring. It was on her throat. “But I don’t think it’s

your fiancé making your pulse race right now.”

“No, of course it’s not my fiancé,” she said acidly. “It’s being stuck in an elevator with

an asshole.”

“An asshole? Really? I’m offended, Ms. de Winter. Well and truly offended.” Except he

didn’t look offended. If anything, that smile of his only widened. “When all I’ve done is
make polite conversation with you. Unless, of course, you were offended by my Tolstoy
reference. And if so then I’m sorry but you’ve only got yourself to blame for that, since
you were the one who brought him up.”

Damn him.
Are you sure it’s him you should be damning? He hasn’t done a thing except fluster

the hell out of you.

Insanity. She’d dealt with hundreds of men in the course of business and none of

them, not a single one, had managed to get to her the way Donovan Morrow got to her.

She had to do something to regain her control. Show him who was boss.
“What?” he murmured. “No comeback? No steely eyed glare? You’re slipping, Ms. de

Winter. I expected more.” He raised a hand and put his palm against the wall of the
elevator beside her head and all the breath seemed to leave her body. What the hell was
he doing?

And more to the point, why the hell was she just standing there?
The elevator pinged as it reached the ground floor, but Donovan calmly pressed the

button that held the door shut.

Obviously he was preparing to make one of his infamous playboy moves. On her. The

arrogant bastard. Well, to hell with that.

Victoria stared into his eyes. “You expected more? I bet you weren’t expecting this.”

Then she reached up, grabbed his loose bow tie, and pulled his mouth down on hers,
stealing his move from him.

She thought it would be nothing. A dry brush of lips like the kisses she shared with

James. Emotionless and certainly not special.

She did not expect to burst into flame like dry tinder under a hot desert sun,

everything in her curling up in the heat—her toes in her plain black pumps, her fingers
curling around her briefcase, a tight knot of … something way down low in her stomach.

Almost automatically she closed her eyes, the kiss vibrating through her like a note

through a tuning fork.

Chapter 2

Donovan let Victoria go, watching as she strode out of the elevator as cool as you

please. As if she hadn’t just stolen his move.

As if the imprint of her mouth wasn’t still burning on his lips.
I bet you weren’t expecting this.
No, he had to confess, he hadn’t been. What he’d been anticipating was for her to

blush. Stammer a bit. Be flustered. Drop that cool businesswoman front for a moment,
not grab his damn tie and kiss him.

Okay, it hadn’t been a good move to mess with her, to ruffle her up a bit. But shit, the

temperature in the elevator had plummeted below freezing the second he’d followed her
into it and he was damned if he was going to get out just to make things easier for her.

And then her gaze had met his in the elevator’s mirrored doors and he’d seen it, that

silver flash in her eyes. Felt that rising sexual tension. Then she’d made that disparaging
quip about Tolstoy, so dismissive. Like she knew him. And … well. He’d gotten pissed.
And then things had gotten out of hand.

Even so, that had been the hottest kiss he’d had for … actually he didn’t know how

long. He probably should have pulled away, but he hadn’t. He’d kept his eyes open the
whole time, watching the color rise to her skin, revealing the outlines of freckles beneath
her makeup. Watching her lashes quiver, then fall in surrender. And then the slightest
movement of her mouth beneath his. So slight he may not ever have felt it if he hadn’t
been paying attention to her with every sense he had.

A crack in that irritating cool reserve she’d been giving him for the past half an hour.

Christ, another couple of seconds and she’d have melted. He’d have been able to taste
her. And he just knew what she’d taste like—fire.

I expected more.
Donovan bared his teeth in a feral smile at her retreating figure.
Oh, she would have more. When he kissed her again, he was going to blow her

fucking mind.

The elevator door suddenly gave a loud beep, reminding him he’d been standing there

holding it open and staring in Victoria’s direction for a good minute. Cursing, he stepped
out into the foyer, releasing the door.

And then he remembered. He couldn’t blow her mind. She was business and he didn’t

want sex getting in the way of this deal. He didn’t want anything getting in the way of
this deal.

He needed to let her go and forget about her. After all, he was going to a party and

there would be plenty of others to choose from there. The kind of women he preferred,
who were easy and flirty and only wanted light, casual hookups. Who didn’t want
anything too deep and meaningful. Or intense. And who weren’t engaged.

Putting Victoria firmly out of his mind, Donovan sent off a text to his driver to bring

the car around. Several people called out to him and he stopped a couple of times to

chat. He did like to present an accessible front to Morrow staff since the personal touch
cost nothing and did wonders for company morale.

As he approached the doors, his phone beeped, this time with a text from his brother.
You coming or what?
Donovan sent off a quick reply. On my way.
You might want to hurry it up. Traffic’s a bitch tonight.
Great. Just his luck to run into New York traffic right when he least wanted it.
Annoyed, Donovan stuck his phone back into his pocket and strode out through the

huge glass doors of the building.

Then stopped.
Victoria de Winter was standing on the sidewalk, her arm out, obviously trying to hail

herself a cab. Without much luck from the looks of things as a couple sailed by without
stopping.

Dammit, why should he feel pleased about that? He didn’t care that she was still here.

He wanted to be away from the woman, didn’t he?

Donovan stalked down the steps of the building just as his limo pulled up to the curb.
Impeccable timing. You might get a chance to blow her mind after all.
His jaw tightened. Christ, no. He was going to Jax’s party and there would be no

mind-blowing involved, least of all hers.

“Going somewhere?” he couldn’t help asking as the limo came to a stop directly in

front of her.

She gave him a faintly exasperated look. “Do you have to park that ridiculous vehicle

right here? I need a cab and this”—she gestured at the long sleek length of black metal
that was the limo—“is blocking the curb.”

“My humble apologies.” Donovan leaned his hip against the limo door. “Give me five

minutes and we’ll be out of your way.”

She sniffed and looked away.
Man, he was getting sick of her dismissing him.
Another cab drove past without stopping, Victoria waving futilely after it.
Donovan sighed. Okay, so he was the biggest playboy in New York, but that didn’t

mean he couldn’t be a gentlemen when he chose. Even to women who stole his moves by
kissing him.

“I could give you a ride if you’d like.”
“Thank you, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” She was very studiously not looking

at him, the pale curve of her neck exposed as she craned her head, looking down the
street for a cab. Not that there were any around to see.

His gaze caught on a small, wispy red curl that had escaped from her bun. It licked

the vulnerable nape of her neck like a small flame, the color vibrant against her pale skin.

He could take down that red hair. Bury his fingers in it while guiding that hot mouth of

hers to his aching cock …

His muscles tensed up, desire rising up inside him, gripping on tightly.
Fuck. Where were all these damn thoughts coming from? Yes, he was attracted to her

and that was unfortunate given he was doing business with her, but still. He’d never had

any trouble keeping his mind off his dick before. Why should it be such a problem now?

Annoyed with himself, Donovan tried to relax his tight muscles. “Why not?”
“It’s too far out of your way.”
“Oh, really? And where exactly are you going? If you’re thinking L.A., you might

possibly be right.”

She kept her face averted, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, in her whole

posture. In fact, she was giving off prickly vibes like an irritated cat.

“What?” he couldn’t resist asking. “Worried you might forget yourself and kiss me

again?”

“Hardly. I don’t tend to make the same mistake twice.”
“That’s good to know. I was worried for my virtue there for a second.”
She didn’t reply, still craning her head, every cab still driving by without stopping.
Then abruptly she turned around, her pale face set and determined. “All right,” she

said curtly. “Here’s the deal. I’m coming with you to your brother’s party tonight.”

Again she’d surprised him. Completely. “What? My brother’s engagement party? At the

2nd Circle?”

“Unless there’s some other massive engagement party going on somewhere else,

yes.”

“But … weren’t you going home?”
“I was.” Her gaze was direct. Cool. “Then I changed my mind.”
He smiled, unable to help himself. “The kiss was that good?”
“I don’t want to talk about that kiss. It never happened.”
She could not be serious. Surely. “Oh, it most definitely did happen, Ms. de Winter.

Can’t dismiss a kiss like that.”

Her jaw tightened, that luscious mouth of hers thinning again. “Are you going to give

me a lift to this wretched party or not?”

“I haven’t decided.” He lounged against the car, surveying her. “Tell me what changed

your mind.”

“Business, Mr. Morrow. I presume you don’t mind doing business at parties?”
“Excuse me?”
“Next Friday is too late for me. But you’re here now, which means we can talk this

through at your brother’s party tonight.”

Christ, the balls of the woman.
Donovan was aware his smile had become rather fixed. “You’ve got to be shitting

me.”

“No, Mr. Morrow. I am not shitting you.”
Apparently she was serious. Which was a problem. He didn’t want to talk about this

deal now, not until he’d spoken with Jax.

“Victoria,” he said, deliberately pausing over her first name, hoping it would irritate

the crap out of her. “I’m afraid you’ve got it wrong. I don’t ever do business at parties.”

For some reason, the tightness in her jaw eased, the firm line of her mouth becoming

softer. “I guess there’s a first time for everything then.” A crease appeared between her
brows. “I could, of course, take this to your brother instead. If you don’t want to deal with

it. I hear he’s desperate to get rid of the land.”

Oh, Jesus.
The last of Donovan’s humor vanished. Not that he’d had much to start with. He could

just imagine Jax leaping at the De Winter offer. Selling it to them without a second’s
thought.

His legacy. His birthright.
No fucking way.
He gave her a smile that could have cut glass, it was so sharp. “You can leave my

brother out of this. I’m in charge of this deal. I’ll handle it.” With a quick, hard movement,
he pulled open the car door. “Now, Ms. de Winter, if you would be so good as to get in
the fucking car, we can get to this fucking party.”

And Victoria de Winter’s beautiful mouth twitched. As if she wanted to smile but

couldn’t quite let herself. “Of course. There’s no need to be rude about it.”

Then she turned and got into the car.

Victoria arranged herself in the interior of the limo, pulling her jacket straight,

smoothing her dress, and making sure her laptop bag was at her feet, her briefcase in her
lap.

She ignored the hot ball of satisfaction that burned behind her breastbone.
Donovan Morrow had not been pleased at her inviting herself to his brother’s party

that was for sure. Neither had he been pleased with her suggestion of taking the deal to
his older brother Jax.

Well, that was too bad. She wasn’t going to wait until he deigned to give her a

meeting time. Some other company might get in with a better offer before then and there
was no way she was letting that happen, not when there was so much at stake.

Her father had always taught her not to wait to act so she wasn’t. Strike while the iron

was hot and all that. Except the iron wasn’t particularly hot when it came to Donovan
Morrow’s intention to sell his family’s land. In fact the iron seemed downright cold, his
reluctance palpable. Which was interesting.

Why wouldn’t he be keen to sell it? Especially given the press interest in the Morrow

family, intent on dragging their criminal past back into the light. And it didn’t make it any
easier that his brother was now engaged to a crime lord’s daughter.

Blood will win out, the press all said.
She thought they’d be desperate to sell. But not, apparently, Donovan Morrow.
Victoria watched him as he slid in beside her and closed the door.
Get in the fucking car.
God, he was an arrogant SOB.
He leaned forward to murmur something to his driver. Then he shifted across to the

long leather seat in front of her, facing her, and pressed a button, raising the glass
between them and the driver.

It made the space abruptly very intimate. Too intimate. Like the elevator.
Where she’d kissed him.
Her breath caught, her mouth suddenly burning, leaving a mark. She felt too hot.

Restless. The interior smelled of expensive leather and the warm, musky scent of his
aftershave, a sensual combination that she couldn’t ignore no matter how hard she tried.

God, what had possessed her? She’d only wanted to gain the control back from him.

Teach him a lesson. Show him she wasn’t to be played with like he played with all his
other women, using his own weapons against him.

And yet …
You weren’t expecting to be affected.
Well, she wasn’t affected. Her response to that kiss had been an aberration. She

couldn’t think what had come over her but one thing she was sure of. It wouldn’t happen
again.

She was a businesswoman and this was business.
End of story.
Opposite her, Donovan sprawled out like a big, lazy, arrogant cat. He still had his tie

and the top button of his shirt undone and she could see the base of his throat, where his
pulse beat strong and sure.

“So?” He shifted one leg, the back of his calf brushing against hers. “What’s the rush

for this deal?”

A streak of fire went through her at the touch. She gripped her briefcase hard but

didn’t move away. “The land is in high demand, as I’m sure you’re aware. De Winter
wants it and we don’t want anyone else to close us out.” It wasn’t quite the exact truth
but giving away the fact that this was personal for the de Winters would be giving away
an advantage.

“De Winter or you?”
“Does it matter?”
His gaze didn’t waver from hers, an aggravating smile playing around his mouth.
A beautiful mouth. His lips warm. Firm. James never kissed like that …
Victoria forced the thought from her head. Yes, James. Her fiancé. Which meant she

shouldn’t be thinking of that kiss. Or of Donovan’s mouth. She had a business deal to pull
off and that was far more important than a kiss.

“I’m interested to know,” he said. “Just like I’m interested to know what more you

expected from that kiss.”

“I told you that kiss never happened.”
“Oh, come on, Ms. de Winter. After saying you expected more, you then also expect

me to pretend it never happened? Surely you know that no man likes to have his prowess
questioned. Especially so blatantly.”

“I would have thought you’d be a little more confident of your prowess than to let my

opinion bother you.”

He lifted one black brow. “And why shouldn’t your opinion matter?”
Oh, sure. Like he really cared what she thought. He didn’t care about anyone and was

famous for it. “The only place my opinion should matter is around the negotiating table,
Mr. Morrow. Now, can we move on from this discussion?”

“Why?” He shifted again, his calf brushing hers for the second time, another electric

jolt going through her. God, was he doing this on purpose? “I’m rather enjoying it.”

She held herself very still. “I thought you were interested in why I wanted this deal so

badly.”

“Well, that, too. But you wanted to talk business at the party. And we’re not at the

party yet.”

“Then what else do you want to talk about? Women? Parties? The number of times

you’ve had a YouTube video go viral?”

His mouth curled. “You must think I’m a very simple creature.”
“In my experience, men are simple creatures.”
“So you’ve had a wide and varied experience then?” He tilted his head, amusement

glittering in his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

Her fingers tightened on her case. Yes, she’d had a lot of experience with men. In the

boardroom and around the negotiating table. But she wasn’t stupid, she knew the subtext
of his question, though if he thought he could rattle her again he had another think
coming. She’d faced down worse than him. “Of course they are,” she said coolly. “Promise
them a blow job and they’re anyone’s.”

He laughed, a much warmer, more spontaneous sound than she’d heard before, giving

her a small glow of pleasure she tried to ignore.

“And exactly how many blow jobs have you ever given a man, Victoria?”
She refused to look away. Or back down. “A few.” It wasn’t a lie. There had been a

couple of times with her college boyfriends, an unpleasant experience for all concerned.

“As a negotiating technique, would you say it worked?” That glint was back in his

eyes. The one that made her breath catch and her heart beat fast.

She knew he was playing with her like the player he was. But that didn’t mean she

had to enter the game. “Does discussing blow jobs ever work as a seduction method, Mr.
Morrow?”

“So you think I’m trying to seduce you?” He tilted his head, stretching his arms out

along the back of the seat, the material of his snowy white dress shirt pulling tight across
his chest. So arrogant. So sure of himself.

So sexy …
God, she had to stop thinking that. She was engaged. To James. Who was in Paris

admittedly, but still. He was her fiancé.

But you have a get-out-of-jail-free card …
Victoria stopped that particular thought dead in its tracks. “What I think is that you’re

a player, Mr. Morrow, and for some reason you’ve decided you’re going to play with me.”
She met his gaze head-on. “So, let me tell you how this is going to go. You’re going to
stop with the seduction games. Stop with the innuendo. And when we get to the party,
we’re going to discuss this deal like adults. Like businesspeople.”

Donovan smiled that insufferably sexy smile. “No innuendo? Damn. Okay then, I’ll be

plain. I don’t want to go to the party and discuss this deal like adults. What I want is for
you to get down on your knees and suck my cock.”

Shock arrowed down her spine, along with a flash of intense heat that should not have

been there. On your knees in front of him, his hands in your hair, guiding you …

There was no way in hell that should have been sexy. But for some reason she felt it

all the way down low inside of her, in places she should not have felt it.

He was studying her as if gauging her reaction.
Right, so he was pushing the boundaries. Another head game.
Victoria smiled back. Cool and calm, letting none of her shock and certainly none of

that disconcerting heat show. “I’m curious. Do you say these things to the men you do
business with, too?”

He didn’t look offended, that warm, genuine amusement in his eyes. “Good question. I

guess it depends on the man.” He shifted in his seat and this time when his calf brushed
hers it stayed there, pressing against her. “But I have to confess I don’t swing that way
usually so no, probably not.”

“So I was right. You are a sexist asshole then.”
“Not necessarily. Perhaps I only say these things to you.”
She couldn’t concentrate. The heat from that one touch seemed to have stolen her

breath. She clutched onto the briefcase. “Lucky me.”

He said nothing for a long moment, studying her. And she gave nothing back,

determined not to reveal anything to him.

“Admitting it is difficult, isn’t it, Victoria?” he said quietly.
“Admitting what?”
“You’ve always been such a good girl,” he went on. “Always worked hard, did exactly

what your daddy told you.” The watchful look in his eyes intensified. “You’ve always had
to be tough to make it, to be taken seriously. To get the job done. To never show
weakness.”

She stared at him, a weird vulnerable feeling creeping up on her. Like he’d seen right

inside her. Seen something she hadn’t even known was there. “I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”

He didn’t look away. “Don’t you? Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to be

bad? To know what it would feel like to let go? To not care so much about what other
people thought? Just once?”

She swallowed. “No. Of course I haven’t—”
“Yes, you have. Just like you’re thinking about sucking my cock right now. Wondering

what I’d taste like. Whether you’d like it.”

Her heart raced. She couldn’t breathe. Damn him. Damn him to hell. “That’s … It’s not

… I haven’t …” The words sounded husky. Not like her at all.

Slowly, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze pinning her to the

spot. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay to want it. It’s okay to be turned on. It’s not a
weakness, Victoria. In fact, you don’t even have to make the decision if you don’t want
to. You can let me be bad for you. Let me take all the blame. Just do what I say. That’s
all you have to do.”

“Mr. Morrow—”
“Just get on your knees.” His eyes glittered impossibly green. “And do it right now.”

Chapter 3

Victoria didn’t move, but her gray eyes had gone silver with anger. Yeah, she was

definitely pissed. And he’d bet all the Morrow billions on the fact it was because he was
right and she didn’t want to admit it.

He was bad to be playing her like this but shit, he had to get the control back

somehow. Up in that boardroom, in the elevator, out by the limo, she’d surprised him, put
him at a disadvantage and he didn’t like it.

He’d never liked it. It reminded him too much of when he’d been at his father’s beck

and call all those years ago, sleeping with certain people to get corporate secrets and
please the old man. Because he didn’t have anything else. He wasn’t the oldest son, like
Jax. Or the tough one like his younger half-brother, Sean.

He’d been the good boy, the intellectual. The one his mother loved. The one his father

despised because he didn’t have the hard edge of a true Morrow. . So he’d done what he
had to do in order to be one, and in the end had discovered it hadn’t made the slightest
bit of difference.

His father still hadn’t given a shit about him.
Ever since then he’d decided he didn’t need anything from Patrick Morrow, most

certainly not love. He didn’t need love from anyone. Not when he was the one who did
the playing. Who made the rules. Who was in charge. Who didn’t give a shit.

And if Victoria de Winter thought she could take that from him, she was sadly

mistaken.

Not that he actually expected her to do what he’d said of course. But that didn’t stop

him from saying it or enjoying the hell out of her reaction to it.

She stared at him and he braced himself, expecting a flood of angry, shocked words.
But all she said was, “You think I won’t do it, don’t you?”
“Do what? Get on your knees?” Donovan said carelessly. “Of course you won’t do it.

You’re the de Winter ice princess, and ice princesses don’t usually give head on
command. Though …” He gave her a smile. “There’s a first time for everything.”

His conscious imitation of her earlier words seemed to have no effect on her apart

from the slight crease between her brows and a narrowing of her eyes. .

“You really are quite an arrogant bastard, aren’t you?”
“It’s one of my best character flaws, admittedly.”
“And is no doubt hiding some hidden pain. Some dark secret you can’t tell the world.”

Her voice was almost meditative. “Perhaps your father didn’t love you enough and you
spent years desperate for his approval and when he didn’t give it to you, you decided you
didn’t care anymore. Sinking yourself into wine and women and song. YouTube sex tapes
and threesomes and cock sucking in your limo. Desperate to keep the distance between
you and a world that doesn’t care about you.”

Donovan held himself very still. Giving nothing whatsoever away of the shock that slid

through him. How close to the bone she’d so nearly cut. He never shared anything about

himself to anyone and yet, in a couple of sentences she’d flayed him wide open.

Shocked? Really? You knew who you were playing with here. You can’t expect not to

have some kind of payback.

Victoria, looking far too comfortable in her seat, raised a brow. “How am I doing so

far?”

“That sound you hear? It’s the sound of my balls not only cracking, but shattering

completely.”

She didn’t smile. If anything the fleeting expression that crossed her face was one of

hurt. Which couldn’t be right. At all. She turned her head away. “Can we leave your balls
out of this for one moment, Mr. Morrow?”

“What? You don’t like the thought of besting me, Ms. de Winter? I thought that was

the whole intention of this little power play?”

“This isn’t a game.”
“I’m trying to get the better of you while you try to get the better of me. Of course it’s

a game. And one you’re enjoying playing as much as I am.”

And he was. It had been a long time since he’d matched wits with a woman like this.

A woman who gave back as good as she got. Most of the time they were too busy
responding to his seduction techniques to argue with him.

Don’t go too far down this road, dickhead. Don’t forget who she is.
Yeah, yeah. Business and crap. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep playing with

her, did it? Push the boundaries a little more? He’d meant what he said when he’d told
her he was enjoying himself and he was pretty damn sure she wasn’t entirely
uninterested, either.

At least she didn’t deny it this time.
He shifted in his seat again, stretching his legs out, sliding his calf against hers, the

faint brush enough to send a line of delicious electricity directly to his cock.

Again, she didn’t move away, that level gaze of hers peeling him open like a knife

steadily cutting through an orange rind.

“So,” he said into the thick silence. “Now that we’ve got our daddy issues out of the

way, perhaps we can get onto more important subjects.”

The expression on her features could only be termed as long suffering. “You’re going

to talk about your genitals again, aren’t you?”

He grinned. “Of course I’m going to. As we’ve already established, men are simple

creatures. And I’m one of the simplest there is.”

“Can’t argue with that.”
“Though I do prefer the word cock. Genitals is so … cold.”
“Mr. Morrow, the deal—”
“Uh-uh.” Donovan lifted a finger and wagged it. “We’re not at the party yet, Ms. de

Winter. And as I recall, I had given you a dare.”

Victoria pursed her lips. “Which you then established I wasn’t going to take up since …

how did you put it again? Oh, that’s right. ‘Ice princesses don’t give head on command.’”

He wanted to smile at the bored way she said his own words back to him, as if she

said things like that all the time, despite the faint wash of color on her pale cheeks that

said, in fact, she didn’t. “Of course they don’t. But hey, I’m easy. I could go down on you
if you’d prefer. I’m an equal opportunity kind of guy.”

“I think you must hate women, Mr. Morrow,” she said after a small silence. . “We’re

ball-busting ice princesses if we don’t get on our knees for you, and if we do then we’re
cheerful sex objects you can manipulate into doing anything you want. How little you
must think of us.”

Fleeting anger threatened.
He’d never treated women with contempt. Yes, he was a playboy, and yes, he got

around. But the women he took to his bed always wanted to be there, always knew what
they were getting into, and wanted as little as he did from the experience. Sexual
pleasure, nothing more.

He’d never manipulated anyone in his life and he certainly didn’t view anyone with

contempt.

Haven’t you? Not even the ones you seduced because Dad wanted something from

them? Something he couldn’t get legally?

He forced that thought away. Kept that easy, charming smile on his face. “You’ve got

me all wrong, Ms. de Winter. I love women. I’m women’s greatest fan.”

“Oh, sure you are. That’s why the first subject you brought up when we got in the car

is me getting on my knees.”

“You really can’t let that go, can you?”
“Of course I can let it go.” Her fingers finally slid off her briefcase handle as she held

them up in the air. “See? Nowhere near your groin.”

The anger twisted again, unraveling this time and quite against his will. Clever

woman.

Goddamned sexy woman.
Unable to help himself, he moved his leg in another slow slide against her calf,

watching more color wash through her face and seeing the white blouse she wore pull
tight across her full breasts as she sucked in a breath.

Oh, yeah, she might deny it all she liked but she wanted him. Like he wanted her.
Nothing is supposed to get in the way of this deal, remember? Especially sexy, smart

redheads who have nothing but contempt for you.

Christ, why did he keep forgetting that? What was it about this woman that got him

all hot under the collar within an hour of meeting her?

Was it the thrill of the unexpected chase getting to him? Or was it because he was

enjoying matching wits with her. Enjoying the power games they were playing.

Shit, it was probably the power games.
Victoria stared determinedly at him, keeping her leg exactly where it was. Refusing to

give him an inch. Refusing to back down no matter the tension burning between them.

Her cheeks were pink, however, and she’d lowered her hands to absently smooth that

little gray skirt of hers over her knees. A nervous motion.

It made his own fingers itch. To push that skirt up. Way, way up.
Her legs would be pale, her skin soft. Her panties would be white. Lacy. A nest of red

curls visible. He’d push her back against the seat, spread her thighs, pull aside those lacy

white panties …

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her cool voice cutting through his

heated fantasy.

“Apparently nothing.”
“No you’re not. You’re looking at me like—” She stopped abruptly.
Donovan had no such qualms. “Like I want to push your skirt up, spread your legs,

and eat you alive? Yes, guilty I’m afraid.” He had his smile ready. “But don’t worry, like
my dick-sucking fantasies, I know that’s not actually going to happen.”

“Why?”
The blunt question took him by surprise. “Why what? Why won’t they happen?”
“No. I meant, why me? Or is it me merely because I’m the nearest convenient

female?”

He laughed. “I’d hardly say you were convenient, Ms. de Winter.”
Her mouth twitched, again as if she wanted to smile but couldn’t let herself. “You

understand my point though. It must be somewhat inconvenient for you that the only
woman around to sexually harass is me, the ball-busting de Winter ice princess.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he murmured. “It has its upsides. I’ve certainly never had a

discussion about Tolstoy where blow jobs were mentioned. Or been accused of hating
women. Or had the prospect of a perfectly good party ruined because some smart, sexy
redheaded businesswoman wants to talk deals instead of getting drunk.”

She blinked and satisfaction unwound inside him, because this time he’d scored the

hit. This time he’d surprised her. But it didn’t last long, that fleeting surprise gone in a
nanosecond. “Are you expecting me to be flattered, Mr. Morrow?” she asked.

Donovan smiled. “I don’t expect anything, Ms. de Winter. I thought we established

that. You’re the one who expected more.”

Her words from the elevator hung between them, filling the space with electricity.

Possibility.

Silver sparked in her eyes. Fire beneath the ice. And he caught his breath.
“Actually,” she said. “I think you expected plenty. I think you expected me to say no.”
“Say no to what?”
“This.”
Abruptly she leaned across the space between them.
And put her hand on his cock.

Victoria had spent a lifetime in the boardrooms of power, learning the business ropes

from her father, Cameron de Winter, owner of one of New York’s biggest property
development firms. She knew all about men and their power games, the jockeying to be
the alpha dog, the one in control. She’d played those games before and she was good at
them.

She’d had to be if she wanted to take over the reins of the company eventually.
And one of her first lessons had been to stay strong and never show weakness. Never

let a man intimidate her.

Including a man like Donovan Morrow.

He thought he could play her. He thought he was in control of this situation.
Well, he wasn’t. She was. And if he wanted to play these games with her, then she’d

play them. Except she was going to win.

Now that she had her hand directly on the source of his power, so to speak, she

wasn’t going to let go until he backed off. Until he stopped talking in that lazy, taunting,
teasing voice of his. Until he stopped brushing her leg, sending sparks shooting through
her, making her skin feel so tight and hot she wanted to claw it right off.

Yet it wasn’t until the moment she’d touched him that she realized, not only had she

made a mistake, she’d made the worst mistake in the entire history of the world.

His big, lean body was tight as a coiled spring. But she could feel warmth beneath her

hand. No, not mere warmth but heat. A hot coal under a layer of ash. A coal that, if she
touched it with bare skin, would ignite all that dry tinder inside her. And she’d go up in
flames.

Oh, God … He was so hot. And hard. Very, very hard.
The breath froze in her throat, pressure grew in her chest.
His eyes glittered. “Ms. de Winter,” he said in a perfectly level, calm voice. “Are you

sure you know what you’re doing?”

No, she didn’t. She didn’t have the slightest idea. But something in her desperately

wanted to find out.

He didn’t move, staring at her. “Be very careful, Victoria.” There was now a rough

edge to his words that thrilled something inside her she hadn’t realized was there. “Be
very, very careful about playing this game with me.”

Excitement made her pulse accelerate. .
No one had ever looked at her with hunger like that. Not even James.
A pang of guilt went through her at the thought of her fiancé.
She didn’t love James. She never had. And he didn’t love her. He was respectable, the

safe choice that had made her father happy and her feel more a part of the de Winter
family.

James had been a friend, but apart from a couple of passionless kisses, she’d never

shared anything else with him. Before he’d left for Paris for six months, they’d agreed on
one “get out of jail free” card regarding their engagement. An affair, if the opportunity
presented itself, no questions asked. He’d called her a month ago to tell her he was going
to use his card. She hadn’t cared. Hadn’t even remembered.

Until now.
Now she couldn’t think of anything else.
She could use that card, right here, right now. Take some of that passion Donovan

was offering. Some of the freedom from control. Explore the desire she’d tasted in his
kiss. Would that be so very wrong of her?

Once you marry James, it’ll be over. You’ll never have this again…
Decisively she pushed her briefcase out of the way then sank to her knees on the floor

of the limo, pushing apart his muscular thighs.

Only to gasp as he closed them abruptly, trapping her between them.
Her hands reached out to grip his thighs for balance, thoughts scattering as the reality

of  his  body  and  the  burning  heat  of  it  seeped  through  the  wool  of  his  pants  into  her
palms,  the  delicious  pressure  keeping  her  positioned  exactly  where  she  was.  Not  a  lot.
Just  enough.  Enough  to  know  that  if  she  tried  to  escape,  all  he’d  have  to  do  was  flex
those impressive muscles a little in order to keep her trapped.

God, why did she like this? Why did this make her feel so hot? So achy and restless?
She looked up at him, saw the raw, primal expression on his face, a thread of doubt

winding through her. This wasn’t the taunting playboy of the elevator. This was a
different man. A dangerous man.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.”
Oh no, he wasn’t going to take the control away from her again. Diminish her again.

He wasn’t going to make her feel small and feminine and weak. Young and
inexperienced.

Her heart was beating faster, the excitement coiling tighter and tighter. The heat of

him around her, the muscular heat of his thighs holding her fast.

It’s not just to prove a point. It’s because you want to. Because he’s the sexiest thing

you’ve ever seen and just for this moment you want a piece of that. Just for one moment
you want to be a bad girl.

She glanced up at him, met that hungry blue gaze. “What makes you think I don’t

want to?”

“Victoria—”
“Quiet now.” She moved her fingers to the button of his pants.
Only to have his palm come down on her hand, pinning it. She looked up at him.
The look in his eyes changed, the intensity filling the space between them, so hot and

thick she could barely breathe. “If you start this, I will finish it.” Perhaps she should have
found that disturbing. But she wasn’t disturbed. She was excited. Aroused. If she could
best him here, she could best him anywhere.

“Stop talking now, Donovan,” she said, very deliberately using his name.
Then she shook off his imprisoning hand, reached for the button on his pants and

slipped it open, took the zipper in her fingers and tugged. He was already hard, the
breath hissing between his teeth as she pulled on the zipper. The sound made a shiver go
down her spine. God, and she hadn’t even touched him yet.

She glanced up. Hunger was etched on every exquisite line of his face, his jaw was

tight. His eyes had gone dark, the green fading into midnight blue.

He wanted her. He was desperate for her.
She’d never had that before in her life. Never had someone desperate for her.
Not any of the nice, safe boyfriends she’d had in college. The ones her father had

approved of. And certainly not James, her own damn fiancé.

It was intoxicating. It was powerful. And she never wanted to give it up.
Spreading open the material of his pants, she slid her hand into his black boxers,

curling her fingers around the hard length of his erection. He was so hot, his skin smooth
to the touch. She drew him out and he tensed as she tightened her grip, making a soft,
growling sound in the back of his throat.

Then his fingers moved to her hair, beginning to roughly pull out the pins that held her

bun on her head. He dropped them carelessly all over the floor of the limo, then pushed
his fingers into her hair, fanning it out over her shoulders.

Red. Different from the golden blond of her brother and father. Her mother. All the de

Winters. Every day a reminder that she wasn’t really one of them.

Donovan twined his fingers in it, pulling gently. “Did you know I’ve been imagining

your hair loose? Holding on to it as you go down on me. Directing your movements how I
want them.”

He’d been fantasizing about her? She let out a ragged breath, the blunt words making

the heat inside her twist.

“And it’s just as soft as I thought it would be,” he continued. “Just as silky.” He tugged

on it a little harder, sending prickles of heat washing over her skin. “Put me in your
mouth, princess. And do it now.”

The order was another challenge. Another attempt to wrest control from her.
His words sent a bolt of heat straight between her thighs.
Victoria lowered her head, hesitating only a second. She hadn’t lied. She’d done this a

couple of times before, brief and unpleasant episodes in college when she hadn’t wanted
to and had only done it because she thought she ought to. She hadn’t enjoyed it and she
was half afraid this moment with Donovan would somehow feel the same.

But it wasn’t.
He smelled good for a start, sandalwood and musk and warm, dry earth. And when

she gave him a tentative touch with her tongue, he tasted good, too. Salty and yet sweet
at the same time.

A raw kind of sound escaped from him and that was all she needed. She opened her

mouth, took him, closing her lips around him, feeling his fingers tighten even further in
her hair.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “Fuck, that’s good.”
Victoria smiled and closed her eyes, losing herself in the taste of him. In his heat. In

the sounds he made as she increased the suction, gripping the base of his shaft tightly in
her fist. His hands in her hair moved, directing her, urging her faster, then slowing her
down.

She went with it, loving how she made his body shake beneath her hands, loving the

powerful feeling that rolled through her once more. The knowledge that she was the one
making him tremble. Making him whisper dark and shocking things in the silence of the
car.

Making him lose control.
She’d never felt so utterly in command. Knowing it was her who’d brought them here.

Her who’d made it happen. Not him and his stupid head games.

She began to lean into the raw heat of his body, every inhibition falling away.

Exhilaration pulsed through her. With growing confidence, she slid one hand beneath his
dress shirt and up over the hard, cut muscle of his abdomen. Feeling his muscles tense as
she stroked him. He felt so good. Oiled silk over steel.

But then sharp prickles moved over her scalp as he began to pull her away.
“That’s enough,” he said hoarsely.

Was he serious? She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to drive him over the edge.

Wanted to make him lose control completely and utterly.

“I said that’s enough.” He pulled hard on her hair and she gasped, lifting her head

reluctantly from him.

“What?” she panted.
The look in his eyes just about burned her to the ground. “I told you I was going to

finish this.”

Donovan had never been harder in his whole damn life and he’d wanted her to keep

going, to take him to heaven with that beautiful mouth of hers.

But she wasn’t doing this to make him come. No matter what she said, she was doing

this to prove a point. To take control.

And he was damned if he was going to let her.
She’d surprised him at every turn. But he’d lay money on the fact that she wasn’t as

cool and as in control as she seemed and he wanted her rattled. Shaken. As shaken and
as desperate as he was.

Fuck, he was even trembling, and a woman had never made him shake like this

before. Never ever.

Ahem. What about the fact that you weren’t going to mix business with pleasure?
Ah, fuck business. He couldn’t think about that now. They were in this moment, in the

limo, where nothing else existed and nothing else mattered.

He was going to make her tremble. He was going to make her fucking scream.
“Sit,” he ordered and when she did so, on the seat opposite him, he slid down onto

the floor. . His turn to be on his knees. And he couldn’t think of a better place to be right
at this particular point in time.

The quicksilver of her eyes met his, her face flushed, that incredible hair of hers down

around her shoulders in a straight red fall—much longer and thicker than he’d imagined.
Her mouth was full and pouty, every trace of that hard, icy businesswoman gone. The
woman who looked at him now was all softness and flaming red heat.

And challenge. He mustn’t forget that.
He put his hands on her knees, eased her skirt up slowly, and yes, just as he’d

imagined, her thighs were pale and soft.

In the silence of the car, he heard her breath catch. “What are you doing?”
“What I imagined. Spreading you out. Eating you alive.”
A shiver went through her. “I thought you said that wouldn’t happen.”
Donovan smiled when the color in her face deepened, her eyes widening.
He paused. “This game isn’t a foregone conclusion, princess. Anytime you want to

stop playing, just tell me.”

Her jaw tightened. “That’s Ms. de Winter to you. Stop the hell calling me princess.”
He laughed, he couldn’t help it. Even now, even knowing what he was going to do,

she was holding out on him. Holding strong.

Well, it wasn’t going to last. He was going to break her and it was going to be so

fucking sweet.

With a quick movement, he shoved her skirt up her to waist and yes, Holy Christ, he

was right. White lacy panties, a gleam of red curls through the fabric.

Beautiful.
Gently, he pushed her thighs apart, spreading them wide. She made a soft sound but

when he looked up, she only lifted her chin, her gaze calm and direct meeting his. As if
she was in the boardroom and they were discussing a deal, not in a limo with him about
to go down on her. As if he couldn’t smell her, all musk and jasmine and hot, feminine
arousal.

It was a mask she wore. A mask to stop herself from wanting.
A deep, unexpected sympathy moved inside him. He knew what it was to wear a

mask. How heavy it was to wear one. And how good it was to take it off and just be.

Donovan put his hands on the inside of her thighs, stroking her skin with his thumbs.

She was so smooth and soft and silky, like her hair had felt knotted tightly in his fingers.

“Come on, Mr. Morrow,” she said, an edge in her voice. “We’re not at a—”
“Hush.” He moved his thumbs higher, still gentle, still stroking. “And close your eyes.”
“But I don’t—”
He moved one hand, placing it directly over the damp heat between her thighs.

Looked into her flushed face. “Close. Your. Eyes.”

He wasn’t expecting her to and yet she surprised him again, dark lashes at last falling

shut. Closing him out. Good. It was hard to drop the mask when you knew people were
watching.

Donovan leaned forward, pressed his mouth to the soft skin of her stomach, just

above the waistband of her panties, feeling it dip and hollow at his touch. A sharp,
indrawn breath from above.

He shifted his hand again, hooking the lace to the side, and slid his fingers through

the damp red curls between her thighs. She gasped aloud, the sound shocked, a tremble
shaking her. The muscles of her thighs tensed.

He had assumed she wasn’t experienced and this confirmed it.
Donovan paused. “Shall I stop?”
“No.” The word was sharp, bitten off.
The mask again. But then, she wouldn’t be this wet if it was all just a mask. If it was

all a point she was making.

He looked up at her. She had her eyes screwed up tight, her beautiful mouth slightly

open, the lines of her face as taut as the muscles in her thighs.

Jesus. He wanted to make her come, make her mouth open, her eyes open,

everything about her loosen and sprawl outward, relax and soften, the mask dropping …

He stroked his finger though the soft, wet folds of her pussy, finding her clit, circling,

teasing.

She trembled again, another sound escaping her. “No …”
“No?” He slicked the pad of his thumb over her clit. “Are you sure?”
“I mean … God … I mean …”
“Say yes, Victoria.”
Her hips moved under his hand, rocking as he caressed her. “I can’t …”

“Yes.” He spread her wide. “That’s the word you want. That’s the answer. Yes.”
Then he bent his head and put his mouth between her thighs.
She cried out as he pushed his tongue inside her, as he licked her deep and slow,

another tremble shaking her.

“Oh … God … ,” she gasped in a hoarse voice. “Yes.”
And he felt her muscles begin to loosen, the tightness relaxing. But he didn’t want to

stop and look at her face, didn’t want to stop period, because, holy fuck, she tasted as
good as he’d thought she would. Hot and spicy and sweet at the same time.

He curled his arms around her thighs, licking deeper, harder. Using his fingers as well.
She began to shake. “Yes … please … Oh, God … please …”
Her fingers were in his hair, holding on tight, and he didn’t stop, his thumb on her clit,

his tongue inside her, pushing her over the edge.

Victoria went rigid in his arms. Then she gave a long, wordless cry, almost of surprise,

her body convulsing as the climax took her.

Donovan didn’t move, holding her as she trembled through the aftershocks. Then,

once she’d calmed, he looked up at her face. Her eyes remained closed but those taut,
tight lines were gone, her mouth full and soft, her expression relaxed.

No mask now. She looked younger, vulnerable. Heartbreakingly beautiful.
When was the last time he’d watched a lover climax? He couldn’t remember. He’d

always been too into finding his own pleasure to watch someone find theirs.

There was a constriction in his chest. One that hadn’t been there before.
With an effort, he forced the feeling away because hell, he wasn’t done yet.
He shifted, reaching over to one of the limo’s many storage cupboards set into the

door, finding the stash of condoms he always kept in there. Bringing one out he debated
getting her to do the honors, then discarded the idea. Her mouth had just about blown
his head off and he was too close to the edge.

Ripping the packet open, he tossed the foil, then protected himself.
Then he reached for her, gathering all her relaxed warmth into his arms before sitting

back, bringing her into his lap.

She’d opened her eyes by this time, blinking at him, registering slowly where she was

and what was happening.

The weight of her on him was perfect, the wet heat of her pussy pressing against his

cock, pushing him even closer to the edge.

Her face was flushed a deep rose, her breathing fast and shallow. Her lipstick

smudged, her mascara running. She didn’t look like the Victoria de Winter who’d walked
into his meeting room an hour or so earlier. Cool and calm and tough as nails. No, this
Victoria was soft and hot and panting. No mask. No ice. And this time, no control.

He met her gaze. “Yes?”
She didn’t reply. Instead she lifted her hips and slid down onto him as easily and

gracefully as if they’d been doing this for years.

As if she’d been made especially for him.
The heat of her closed around him and for a second he couldn’t think. Couldn’t even

move. Could only watch as her mouth opened in a soundless gasp, her eyes widening,

pleasure unfurling over her face. “Oh … Donovan …”

His name had never sounded so erotic. Hearing it shredded what was left of his

control.

He gripped her hips, beginning to move. Setting a hard, driving rhythm. Watching her

as he did so, her pupils dilating into blackness. She looked dazed, like this was new to
her, and shit, he knew how she felt. This intensity, this feeling, was new to him, too.

Not a good thing …
But no, he didn’t want to think about that, so he didn’t. Only moved harder, faster.

Her hands on his shoulders, her fingers digging in, holding onto to him like she was
drowning. Then her lashes fell shut, her eyes closing tight, her mouth opening, a cry of
what sounded like anguish tearing from her throat as her body arched, her hands, her
knees, her pussy clamping down on him like a vise as she came.

It was only then that he let his own mask slip, her orgasm detonating his own. And he

had to close his eyes in the end because it was too much, too intense, pleasure exploding
around him, annihilating every single thought in his head.

It took a long time to come back to himself afterward, as if somehow his soul had

slipped its moorings and got free. Gone somewhere else. Somewhere he didn’t
remember.

When he opened his eyes again, he found her staring at him as if she’d never seen

him before in all her life.

“What have you done to me?” she whispered.

Chapter 4

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Victoria knew she shouldn’t have said

them. They sounded too needy. Revealed far too much. Also, it really wasn’t him she
should be asking it of.

The question she should have been asking was what had she done to herself.
Because it had gotten out of hand, this little power game. And instead of winning,

conquering like she expected, it felt horribly like it was Donovan who’d ended up with the
upper hand.

The pleasure had been … devastating. She’d never experienced anything like that

before. Didn’t know it would make her forget herself. Turn her helpless. Expose a secret,
feminine, emotional part of her she hadn’t known she possessed.

And that meant it could never, ever happen again.
Despite all her good intentions of being calm and cool, a wave of hot embarrassment

had her pulling out of his arms, scrambling inelegantly out of his lap. What she really
wanted to do was escape the hell out of his car entirely but of course she couldn’t do
that. That would have been tantamount to running away, and she’d never been a coward.

“Well,” she said instead, grasping for as much cool as she could muster, desperate to

get some of the control back, “I guess the tabloids were right about what goes on in your
limo. How interesting.”

She didn’t look at him as she sat herself back down in the seat opposite, smoothing

down her skirt, then bending to gather all the hairpins he’d scattered all over the floor of
the limo.

Until long fingers closed around her wrist. “Let me do that,” Donovan said.
“I can do—”
“I said, let me, Victoria.”
At the sound of her name another bolt of electricity went through her and she had to

take a breath, her heart racing. This was ridiculous. She needed to calm the hell down.
And if he wanted to pick up her hairpins, why not let him?

“In that case,” she said smoothly, “feel free.”
He released her and she straightened, steeling herself to meet his gaze.
He’d put himself to rights, his pants done up at least, but he’d left his bow tie undone

and his shirt open at the neck. She couldn’t seem to stop looking at that patch of brown
skin. Watching his pulse beat in the hollow of his throat

She could still taste him in her mouth. Still feel him inside her.
Yes. That’s the word you want. That’s the answer. Yes.
Victoria wrenched her gaze away, completely unable to think of what to do.
Which was bad. Very, very bad.
“Come sit back over here.” He patted the seat next to him.
Since there wasn’t any reason not to and arguing would reveal far more than she

wanted to, she did as he asked, settling onto the seat beside him, smoothing her already

smooth skirt. “Now what?” she said.

“Turn your back to me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Just do it, Victoria.”
Well, at least that would mean she wouldn’t be looking at him. She shifted in her seat,

presenting him with her back. And then stiffened as she felt his fingers in her hair.

“Stay still,” he murmured.
“I’m getting a little tired of following your orders, Mr. Morrow.”
“Hush.”
Hush, he’d whispered, his hands gentle on her thighs, the word falling over her like

rain. Close your eyes.

“And I think after that we can dispense with the Mr. Morrows. It’s Van, okay?”
Victoria tried to force the memory away, but she could still feel those gentle hands on

her thighs, still see those intense, blue-green eyes looking into hers as if he didn’t see
Victoria de Winter the ball-busting ice princess at all, but someone else. Another woman.
The woman behind that. Which was crazy because there wasn’t another woman behind
that, was there?

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said coolly. “We’re business colleagues, remember?”

Reminding both of them that reality waited outside the confines of the car. A reality that
was going to give her back some of the control.

There was silence behind her.
Then he said, “Ah, yes. Business. In that case, Ms. de Winter, if you wouldn’t mind

keeping still, I’ll fix your hair for you.”

She opened her mouth to protest that she could do it herself. Yet she didn’t move as

his hands gathered her hair and twisted it up into her customary bun, carefully beginning
to put it back into place with the pins he picked up from the floor.

Well, if he wanted to pin her hair back in place, who was she to argue? She didn’t care

one way or the other.

“So,” he said quietly. “Are you going to tell me what you meant?”
“Meant about what?”
“You wanted to know what I’d done to you.”
Tension coiled inside her. She looked down at her hands. “Did I? I don’t remember.”
“I think you do.”
She stared out the window of the limo at the traffic outside. Horns sounded, a siren

echoing off the buildings.

Soon they would be at the party …
Oh, hell. The party. Where she’d planned to force him to negotiate this deal.
Her stomach dropped. She’d forgotten all about it. How on earth had that happened?

She’d gotten so caught up in the game they’d been playing that it had slipped her mind.
Completely. Which was unheard of. She never forgot a business deal. Never.

Clasping her hands in her lap, Victoria took a deep, silent breath.
She was a businesswoman. She was a de Winter.
“It was nothing,” she said dismissively. “A commentary on your prowess which, I have

to admit, is impressive. I can see why you’re so in demand.”

“‘What have you done to me.’” A pin slid into her hair. “Those were your exact words.”
Victoria swallowed past the lump in her throat, ignored the flame of embarrassment

that seared her yet again. “If I’d known I was going to get an interrogation as well as
sex, I would have come prepared. Do you do this with all your lovers?”

“No.” Another pin slid into her hair. “But then my lovers usually say things like ‘that

was amazing’ or ‘your cock feels so good’ or ‘let’s do that again.’ No one has ever said
‘what have you done to me.’” He slid yet another pin. “Like I hurt them.”

Her throat tightened. “You didn’t hurt me, don’t be ridiculous.”
He did. Don’t deny it.
Because she could tell herself all she liked that what they’d shared had been about

control and power games. But really, it hadn’t been. It had been about desire. About
wanting someone and being wanted in return. About reaching for what had been missing
in her life—excitement, passion, pleasure … Things she couldn’t have because they were
weaknesses she couldn’t afford. Not if she wanted to be a true de Winter.

She remembered eavesdropping on a heated conversation her father had with her

brother Marc, not long after her mother had died. Her brother had gone off the rails and
she knew that made her father sad. She’d been only ten and yet she’d been getting into
trouble at school herself—her mother was gone and her father seemed to treat her like a
stranger. The unwanted gift he couldn’t return.

Then, as she heard her father angrily end the conversation, it had come to her that if

her brother wasn’t going to be the son her father wanted him to be, then she would. And
maybe, finally, he’d accept her as part of the family, not the girl he’d adopted to make his
wife happy.

So she’d worked her ass off to be that son. Sharp and tough and hard. The kind of

businesswoman her father respected and approved of. Was proud of. Who would
eventually be ushered into the sacred de Winter boardroom to take her place at his side.

But that wouldn’t happen if she didn’t land this deal. If she kept getting distracted by

Donovan Morrow and meaningless sexual desire. This was important. Cameron de Winter
wanted that real estate back in de Winter hands and that’s what she was going to do.

“If I didn’t hurt you,” Donovan said quietly from behind her, “then what was it I did do

to you?”

“You gave me a couple orgasms and they were very nice. But that’s over now so I

think we can call it done, don’t you?”

Silence from behind her, his hands falling away from her hair. “Call it done?” There

was a strange note in his voice, one she couldn’t place.

She glanced around. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
There was an odd intensity in his eyes. “Why done? Surely not regrets already?”
“No.” The word came out before she’d even had a chance to think about it. But once

she’d said it, she realized it was true. She didn’t regret it. Hell, yes, she was embarrassed
and wanted to put it behind her but there were no regrets. “In case you’ve forgotten
though, I’m still engaged and we still have a deal to work through.”

His gaze flickered, as if he’d forgotten those things, too. “You’re going to stay

engaged? After that?”

Victoria eyed him coolly. “Do I detect a hint of judgment, Mr. Morrow? That’s a little

hypocritical coming from you.”

“I know you’re going to find this hard to believe but I don’t do married women these

days. Or engaged women, either.”

“Except for when it slips your mind. Like now.”
He stared at her. “Interesting that you’re the one bringing up hypocrites, Ms. de

Winter, when you’re the one who’s engaged.”

How did he do that? How did he make her feel so vulnerable and yet so angry at the

same time?

Tension crept into her shoulders, pulling tight, and no amount of willing it away made

any difference. “If you must know,” she said, “James and I had an agreement. A ‘get out
of jail free’ card. One affair before the wedding, no questions asked. He used his a month
ago. So …”

“You thought it was your turn.”
“Yes.”
“And was it worth it?”
She didn’t understand the look in his eyes, or the strange undertone in his voice. So all

she did was lift a shoulder, as if it didn’t matter one way or the other. “It was very nice,
thank you.”

For a second his gaze burned into hers and she thought he was going to say

something. Something that would shatter the moment entirely.

But he didn’t. He abruptly turned away instead, opening up one of the storage

cupboards, getting out some tissues and, to her surprise, what looked like a small
makeup bag.

“Here,” he said, turning back to her. “A few things to fix yourself up with.”
“You have makeup in here?”
He smiled, the intensity vanishing as if it had never been there, the charming,

consummate playboy again. “Not so much makeup as toiletries. It’s been useful in the
past.”

“I bet.” She took the bag. “You’re not going to say anything to anyone, are you?”
“About us? Of course not. What happens in the limo, stays in the limo.”
The tension in her shoulders released. Well, that was one less thing to worry about.

Her father would have fifty fits if he knew about what had happened between her and
Donovan. To say he was not a Morrow fan was an understatement.

“Good,” she said, examining what was in the bag. There were makeup removal wipes,

a toothbrush and toothpaste, a compact. She reached for the compact. God, she was
mess. A total mess. Running mascara, smudged lipstick.

She wiped away the evidence with the wipes, cleaning up the running mascara, fixing

the lipstick smudges before reapplying with her own lipstick from her purse. But nothing
was going to get rid of the flush in her cheeks. Or the knowledge of what she’d done that
glowed like fire deep in her eyes.

Yes. The answer is yes …

Victoria closed the compact with a snap.
“Welcome back,” he murmured.
“Thank you for the wipes.” She ignored the note of irony in his voice. “That was

thoughtful.”

“That’s me. I’m a thoughtful kind of guy.” He was studying her, his expression

unreadable.

She ignored him, checking over her skirt and making sure there were no rumples.
The driver’s voice came through the intercom. “The traffic’s moving at last, Mr.

Morrow. Should be at the venue in a couple minutes.”

“Thank you, Chris,” Donovan replied calmly, not taking his gaze off her.
Victoria picked up her briefcase. “Well, this has been … interesting, Mr. Morrow.”
“It certainly has been, Ms. de Winter,” he said, as if all they’d been doing was having

a mundane discussion about work. Then he smiled and her breath caught because there
was nothing mundane in that smile. Only intention. Only heat and sensuality.

This is not over, it said, quite plainly.
Well, he was wrong.
“We’re approaching the building now, Mr. Morrow,” the driver said through the

intercom, breaking the suddenly tense atmosphere.

Donovan reached unhurriedly for the button. “Take us around the corner, Chris. We’ll

let Ms. de Winter out there.” He leaned back in his seat. “There. And you don’t even have
to be seen arriving with me. Aren’t you lucky?”

“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
The car came to a stop, the sound of the driver’s door opening, then closing.
In a moment this would be over. In a moment reality would assert itself and the

woman she’d been in Donovan’s limo would be gone. The hot, desperate, needy, helpless
woman. The woman who was definitely not a de Winter.

That moment couldn’t come fast enough.
Abruptly the door opened, the sounds of the city flooding in.
Victoria tightened her hand on her briefcase, then leaned over and grabbed her laptop

bag. Then she looked at him, brief and cool and impersonal. “Thanks for the ride,” she
said. “I’ll give you an hour or two to mingle, then I’ll find you and we’ll talk more about
the docklands deal.”

Then without waiting for a response, she got out, slamming the door behind her.
The moment was gone.

The huge bar of the 2nd Circle—one of the infamous Nine Circles clubs and New York’s

most exclusive venue—was packed. Politicians, actors, rock stars, old money and new,
the influential and rich all in one heaving, glittering crowd.

All here to view the scandal that had rocked New York the previous month: straight-

arrow Jax Morrow’s engagement to Pandora Garret, the daughter of one of New York’s
biggest crime bosses.

Donovan lounged against the bar, scanning the crowds, irritated with the décor that

prevented him from seeing who was who.

Massive, luxurious red velvet couches had been arranged at intervals throughout the

huge space, long fringes hanging from the ceiling creating the illusion of walls around
each of the arrangements, giving the feeling of intimacy without cutting them off from the
rest of the bar. Discreet lighting furthered the intimate atmosphere.

Nice from a style point of view but what with the fringes and the lighting, he couldn’t

see a damn thing.

He’d spent the past couple of hours doing his thing, meeting and greeting, oiling the

wheels, making sure everything ran smoothly and that everyone was having a good time.
It could have been awkward, the Morrow past dragged into the spotlight again following
Jax’s engagement to Pandora, but Donovan made sure it wasn’t. Easing fears and
calming doubts.

Of course Morrow Inc. wasn’t going to be involved in any of “that kind of thing” again.

Of course it didn’t mean Morrow had ties to Garret. Of course Pandora had nothing to do
with her father these days.

But for the first time in his life, he couldn’t seem to concentrate fully on the party. He

was too distracted thinking about what had happened in the limo. Thinking about
Victoria.

Thinking about why the fuck he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
What have you done to me?
She’d lain on the seat after that orgasm he’d given her, thighs apart, flaming hair

spread out like a sunset all over the leather, soft and warm and flushed with her arms
flung up as if in surrender. That mask gone.

And for a second that’s all he’d wanted, too. Not to have to wear the mask.
To not be Donovan Morrow, the face of Morrow Inc., PR magician and professional

playboy. To be himself.

As if you know who that is.
“What’s your problem? Did someone finally say no to you or something?”
Donovan didn’t turn as Jax approached. Like he needed yet another visual of a man

sickeningly in love.

That his famously emotionless brother should fall for the lie that was love still

surprised him. Clearly the guy’s capacity for self-delusion went further than Donovan had
ever suspected. Yet he didn’t begrudge Jax the lie. Pandora was gorgeous and had
improved his brother’s mood no end, which was a bonus. It was just that sooner or later
it would all come crashing down, because that’s what happened with love. He’d
witnessed it too many times to count over the years he’d spent as his father’s corporate
spy, seducing the secrets out of his father’s business rivals, trading on his looks and the
charm that would eventually get him his own PR company.

Love was an illusion. A mirage. People were wrong about religion being the opiate of

the masses. Love was the true opiate.

Good thing he’d long overcome the craving because, as with any addiction, you could

never get enough. God knew he’d spent long enough chasing fixes with his father.

“No,” Donovan said, raising the tumbler of neat Scotch he held in his hand and taking

a sip. The stuff was expensive but he barely tasted it. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you’ve been standing there scowling at the crowd for the last ten minutes.”
“Scowling? I’ll have you know I never scowl. I just crease my forehead in an adorable

fashion.”

“Who is it this time?” Jax said, unfazed. “The blonde in the corner over there?”
“What blonde?”
There was a silence from beside him. He glanced at his brother, met the other man’s

surprised blue eyes. “What?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you be completely

uninterested in a hot woman.”

Red hair like a sunset. Sweet and hot and spicy against your tongue.
Donovan’s fingers curled around the whiskey tumbler. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m not in

the mood.”

“Bullshit. You’re always in the mood.”
What have you done to me?
Christ, what had she done to him more like? He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

About what happened between them. About that raw, naked look in her eyes as the
aftershocks had gripped them. He’d never had it so intense, not with anyone, and God, he
wanted more.

She’d called it done. But they weren’t done. So not done. Not if he had anything to do

with it.

He took another tasteless sip of his whiskey. “No, I’m done with women. I’m thinking

of taking up golf instead. I hear hitting balls with clubs is very therapeutic.”

Jax eyed him.. “How did the meeting go?”
Ah, shit. Trust Jax to remember the whole reason he’d been late to the party in the

first place. Donovan forced a grin. “Extremely well.”

“The De Winter offer’s good then?”
“Almost.”
“What do you mean, almost? You’ve been saying ‘almost’ about every damn offer

we’ve had so far. We need that fucking thing gone, Van.”

Anger turned over inside him, along with a good, healthy measure of frustration. “‘Oh,

please, ‘we’ don’t need anything. It’s you that wants to sell it, not me.”

His brother’s expression became stony. “We’ve had this discussion.”
“Bullshit we had a discussion. You gave out a set of orders and that was the extent of

the discussion.”

“The land is a liability, Van, you know this.”
“That land is my fucking birthright, Jax, and you have no right to sell it.”
Donovan met his brother’s steely gaze and tension echoed in the air around them,

sharp and hot.

“Hey Van.” Pandora appeared suddenly out of the crowds, tugging on Jax’s arm and

smiling at Donovan. “Do you mind if I grab my Prince Charming here? They’re playing our
song.”

With an effort, Donovan relaxed against the bar, hoping his smile didn’t look as forced

as it actually was. “Sure. Be my guest.”

Jax turned his glare on his fiancée. “We don’t have a song.”
“We do now. Come on, I haven’t had enough dancing. Oh and FYI, quit it with the

scowl. I was hoping to marry Prince Charming, not Grumpy the dwarf.”

Jax rolled his eyes but let himself be led away. As he went, he gave Donovan a “we’ll

talk about this later” look, which was pretty much par for the course with Jax and his big-
brother shtick. The guy never took “fuck off” for an answer.

As the pair of them left, Donovan found himself watching the way his brother’s hand

rested in the center of Pandora’s mostly bare back, fingers trailing over the red silk of her
gown. A protective gesture.

The sight needled him for some reason.
As if he needed an extra needle.
Damn fucking Jax and his refusal to see reason.
He’d never been jealous of his brother, not even when it had been clear their father

preferred Jax. His older brother had always looked out for him and looked out for him
still, Donovan knew that.

But right now Jax’s rigid attitude needed a damn adjustment. His brother had never

known what it was like to not feel a part of your own family. To have the name and the
blood but not the acceptance. Even Sean, their half-brother and the outsider, had been
more of a Morrow than Donovan had. Donovan was too good, too needy, too desperate
for approval to be a true Morrow, and his father had always despised neediness in all its
forms.

No, this land was his chance to finally have what Jax had. A piece of the Morrow

legacy that was all his. If only he could get his brother to see it.

Donovan leaned against the bar and knocked back the rest of the Scotch. Trying to

find a good mood at the bottom of a whiskey tumbler was probably a mistake but hell,
he’d done it before. He’d do it again.

As he did so a flash of red in the shifting crowd caught his attention. A woman in a

plain black strapless cocktail dress, standing out in the heavily couture crowd like a pure
white lily in a field full of poppies. The only bright thing about her was her hair, a knot of
red on top of her head.

Victoria.
She was talking to Alex St. James, the owner of the 2nd Circle and a playboy with an

even more infamous reputation than Donovan’s. He must have said something funny
because she laughed, her cool self-containment dropping, warm amusement lighting her
expression.

A tight feeling lodged behind his breastbone.
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.

Chapter 5

“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.

She knew she should be thinking of her father because he would be disappointed.

He’d been the one to introduce her to James and had encouraged her to make it official.
Makes good business sense, he’d told her. But she wasn’t. All she could think about was
Donovan.

I can show you …
“Victoria?” James sounded worried. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupted. “I’m okay.”
And she was. Even though her hands were trembling.
Because it wasn’t disappointment that was making them shake.
It was anticipation.
Come and find me, he’d said. If you want to find out what more there is.
Well, she wanted to find out. Tonight.

He didn’t expect her to follow him. But then he should have known she never did

anything he expected.

He was near the dance floor, delivering more smooth assurances about Jax’s

engagement to a group of doubters, when Victoria appeared out of the crowd, coming
toward him.

The blonde his brother had pointed out earlier was dancing sinuously nearby, casting

hopeful glances at him from underneath her lashes, but he barely even noticed her.

She wasn’t looking at him the way Victoria was looking at him.
As if all the other men in the club didn’t exist. As if the entire club didn’t exist.
He hadn’t been looked at like that for a very, very long time. If ever.
The people he was talking to disappeared, the blonde fading into insignificance, the

crowd falling away.

She moved with elegant determination, skirting the knots of people standing and

chatting and the gyrating dancers. The look on her face was serene, but as she got
closer, he noticed the hunger in her eyes, the glitter of desire, and what looked like

uncertainty. Nervousness.

A vulnerability only he could see.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted anyone so badly.
Donovan excused himself from the people he was talking to and stepped away, trying

to get a grip on the desire that had broken free and was currently turning him inside out.

All he’d intended when he’d reached for her earlier was to distract her from going to

Jax, to deflect her attention. But he’d realized his mistake the second he’d touched her,
the moment her scent had invaded his senses. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from
taking a bite out of her, wanting to taste her skin just one more time. And then, like she
always seemed to be doing, she’d taken him by surprise. Turning her head to kiss him as
if she’d been doing it all her life.

And as her mouth had met his, he’d known he wouldn’t be able to walk away from this

again. That he was at the mercy of their chemistry. At the mercy of the unexpected fire
that lay under her hard, cold businesswoman exterior.

He wanted to strip that woman away like he had in the limo. He wanted to find

Victoria underneath it.

She smiled as she approached him, the smile of a woman totally in charge of herself

and the situation. But he wasn’t fooled. He knew that was only a mask. And he had to put
his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching for her, stripping the mask from her
there and then.

“So Mr. Morrow,” she said calmly, as if she hadn’t kissed him not ten minutes earlier.

As if he hadn’t felt her body tremble between his hands. “I’ve been thinking about your
earlier offer. I’ve decided I’d like to take you up on it.”

He didn’t let himself look satisfied or pleased or anything so mundane. He met her

gaze, gone dark in the dim light of the club. “What about your fiancé?”

“Oh, that.” She glanced down at her hands where they rested against her stomach,

clutching onto her little beaded purse. Then with a certain amount of deliberation, she
slid off the gaudy diamond ring she wore and put it into the purse. “I don’t have a fiancé
anymore.”

Christ. Had she done that for him? “Victoria, I—”
“He told me he’d found someone else,” she interrupted, her gaze direct. As if daring

him to argue. “So don’t worry. I didn’t throw a relationship away for a one-night stand.”

“You didn’t love him.” It wasn’t a question, more an affirmation. Because he knew,

without a single doubt, that if this woman loved someone she’d never throw it away for
anything.

“No. And he didn’t love me.”
He saw it then, the slight glitter of anger. Of pain. And he knew what it meant

because he’d felt it, too, a long time ago. The sting of a rejection you weren’t expecting
to feel.

“You can change your mind,” he said, making it clear.
“No.” The word was hard, certain. “You told me you’d show me what else there is.

And I want it. Just tonight. Just once.”

He wanted to touch her then but there were too many people around, so all he said

was, “Come with me.”

He didn’t wait to see if she obeyed, only turned and began moving down toward the

back of the club, where it was dark. Where there were corners and enough shadows to
hide anyone and what they did from view.

There were lots of people around, in alcoves and on couches. Talking, laughing, and

drinking. He kept moving, past the people to where it got much darker, where the beat of
the music became muffled. A corridor snaked away to another part of the club, a deep,
shadowed recess to one side of it.

Donovan turned and Victoria was right behind him. Thank Christ. He reached for her,

pulling her into the recess then pushing her up against the wall.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see her pale face looking up at him.
“Here?” There was only the slightest tremor in her voice. “Really, Mr. Morrow. I had no

idea you had a thing for public sex. Though I guess it shouldn’t surprise me knowing—”

“No.” He lifted a hand and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tipped her

head back. “No more. You don’t have to be the businesswoman tonight. You don’t have
to be Ms. de Winter just like I don’t have to be Mr. Morrow. Tonight you’re Victoria and
I’m Van. Understand?”

Her gaze was dark, holding his. “Okay.”
“Say it.”
“What?”
“My name, Victoria.”
Her throat moved, her attention drifting to his mouth. “Van …”
The sound was a whisper but he heard it. Nothing had ever sounded so erotic.
He let her chin go, pressing her against the wall, his hands sliding up beneath her

dress, cupping her butt in his palms. She gave a little gasp, her purse dropping to the
floor with a thud, her hands coming to rest against his chest for balance. “God. No one
will see us, will they?”

“If they do, they’ll only see my back. They won’t see you.”
She looked up at him, her fingers curling into his shirt. Holding on. “Show me. Show

me what else there is.”

So he bent his head, took her mouth, and let the taste of her detonate inside of him.

She made a hungry sound deep in her throat, her fingers curling even tighter in his shirt,
her mouth opening beneath his, kissing him back like she was starving for him.

Fuck, he’d never been so hard. So ready for a woman in all his life.
He’d told her he’d show her there was more than business between them. More than

power games and challenges. More than masks. And he was going to show her now.

He let his fingers slide beneath those lacy panties of hers, over the silky skin of her

bare butt. Then between her thighs, brushing the outer folds of her sex lightly.

She trembled and kissed him harder, another sound escaping her as he slid his

fingertips further between her thighs, nudging the entrance to her body, finding her slick,
hot.

Victoria broke the kiss, panting. “Van … God …” Her head tipped forward, her forehead

resting against his chest.

He bent, brushed his mouth against the sensitive skin beneath her ear, feeling her

shudder. “I’ve been thinking about you all evening, did you know that?” he whispered,
dark and dirty. “About what we did in the limo. About how you tasted. About how much
I’d like to slide my hands between your legs and play with your clit. Make you come in the
middle of the bar. Make you bite that beautiful lip of yours to stop from screaming, to
stop people knowing exactly what I’m doing to you.”

She turned her head again like she had at the bar, as if she knew exactly the distance

between their mouths and how to close it, her lips brushing his. “So stop talking about it
and do it,” she murmured, hoarse and husky, meeting him even now. Even here.

He smiled against her mouth. “Challenge accepted. But if you want it, you have to do

what I say. Do you think you can do that, Victoria? Do you think you can obey me? Let
me have the control?”

She took a shuddering breath. “Yes.”
“Prove it to me then. Hands above your head.”
There was no hesitation in her as she did as she was told, her gaze on his. The

posture made her back arch, lifting her breasts so they pushed against his chest, her hips
tilting, pressing against his aching groin. Jesus, the sight took his breath away, making
him so hard he didn’t think he was going to make this last as long as he wanted it to.

“Good,” he murmured. “Christ, so good. You look beautiful like that.” He shifted his

hand, pushing his fingers between her thighs, and she groaned as he eased one inside
the slick heat of her, pleasure flashing across her face. “Is that me, Victoria? Are you wet
because of me?”

“Yes … Of … of course it’s you.”
“And are you ready for me now?”
“S-stop talking, Van.”
He laughed, brushed a kiss over her jaw, then covered her mouth with his. She

opened immediately, tasting of sweetness and wine and abandon. Delicious. He kissed
her harder as he eased another finger inside her, his thumb brushing over her clit. Doing
exactly what he’d told her he’d do.

Victoria shuddered, another of those soft, throaty moans escaping her. “Now …,” she

murmured against his mouth. “I need you … now …”

“Where do you need me?”
“Inside me. Right now.”
He moved his thumb over her clit again, teasing her. “Oh no, princess. I’m the one in

control, remember? I give the orders.”

“Bastard.” Her voice was breathless, panting. “I told you not to call me princess.”
Oh God, she was going to make him crazy. Already she was making him crazy. “Say

please, beautiful girl.” Another swipe of his thumb, stripping more of that mask away
from her. “Beg me for it.”

“Please,” she said thickly. And her eyes weren’t dark now but glittering in the dim

light. “I want your cock, Van. Please.”

Holy Christ, and he thought he was the one teaching her. He thought he was the one

in control. But that one word and he knew he wasn’t. He knew she was turning his own

weapons back on him.

And why he should like that he had no idea, but he did.
He took his hands from her body, ignoring the soft sound of protest she made. Dug

into his back pocket for his wallet and the condoms he always kept in it. Extracting one
took less than a second and opening up his pants and protecting himself another second
more.

Then he was lifting her, sliding her dress up and wrapping her legs around his hips,

pinning her to the wall, easing forward, pushing into the wet heat of her body.

She gave a shaky cry, her body arching. She felt so good. Tight and hot, like she had

in  the  limo.  Except  this  time  her  legs  were  wrapped  around  him,  gripping  him  for  dear
life,  her  hands  still  raised  above  her  head.  “You’re  so  good  today,”  he  murmured,
brushing  his  mouth  along  the  bare  skin  of  her  neck.  “I  like  hearing  you  cry  out.  Do  it
again.” And he tilted his hips and thrust, a hard, high movement that pressed her even
more  firmly  against  the  wall,  tearing  another  groan  from  her.  “Again.”  Another  thrust,
deeper this time, and slower, making her arch, her fingers curling into fists.

Her eyes were shut tight and it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to see her, see

that warm, flushed woman again. The woman he suspected she never let anyone see.
Anyone but him.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “Look at me, Victoria.”
Her throat moved and her eyes opened, staring into his.
He kept watching her, moving faster, pleasure uncurling up his spine, taut and

electric. He could see it taking her, too, her pupils dilating to black in the shadows.

This was too much. Too intense. It was going to swallow him whole.
A flicker of panic crossed her features, like she’d felt the same thing at exactly the

same moment. “Donovan …”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, letting her see she wasn’t the only one feeling this. That

she wasn’t alone. “Trust me. I’ve got you.”

She was trembling, her gaze on his as if she was drowning and he was the only thing

keeping her afloat, the vulnerability laid bare in her eyes made everything in him draw
tight. “People will hear.”

“No,” he whispered. “They won’t.” And he lifted a hand, covered her mouth. Leaned in

close. “Scream, Victoria. Scream yourself hoarse.”

Then he thrust hard and her head went back against the wall as the climax hit her,

her mouth opening beneath his hand, her scream vibrating against his palm. And he
didn’t stop, moving harder and faster, the pleasure building, becoming too much. When
her teeth sunk into his palm he turned his face into her neck, stifling his own cry as the
orgasm ripped him into tiny little pieces.

Afterward, he couldn’t move, annihilated for the second time in as many hours. And

when she shifted against him, he realized that in fact he didn’t want to move. That he
wished they weren’t in a club, surrounded by people, but in a bed, naked. Alone together.
Where they could have time and privacy to explore each other, explore what this was
between them without all the other crap weighing them down. Imprisoning them.

“Come home with me,” he said, barely conscious of what he was saying. “Spend the

night with me.”

Victoria was silent. Then her hands were pushing at him. “Let me down.”
He didn’t want to. Then again he couldn’t stand there like this with her forever. He

moved, letting her slide down the wall to her feet, where she began smoothing down her
dress, already putting herself to rights.

While he was … Actually he didn’t know what he was. She’d broken him open

somehow and now he’d let slip something he never had before: he’d invited her home.
The one place he never shared with anyone. “Victoria.”

She looked away from him. “I can’t.”
No. She couldn’t say no. He wasn’t going to let her. “You can’t walk away from me.

Not after this. Not again.”

“What do you mean, not again?”
“The limo.”
Her lashes fell. “Nothing happened in the limo.”
“Bullshit.” His chest felt tight, aching, and he couldn’t seem to find the charm that had

always come so easily before. The usual smile. The seductive words. They were gone.
Like she’d stripped his mask from him, too. “Everything happened in the limo and now it’s
happened again. And if you think I’m going to let you walk away from this like you got
out of that car, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Slowly her lashes rose, her eyes wide and dark. “I can’t, Donovan.”
“Why not? What’s wrong with coming home with me?”
“There’s nothing wrong with going home with you but … It’s too much. Too fast.”
“I’m not asking for marriage, for fuck’s sake. Just a night.”
She glanced away. Again.
Christ. He’d made a mistake. He’d fucked up. He’d revealed too much, been too

desperate. He’d let it matter and that was the one thing he must never do.

Well, he wasn’t going to compound the error by begging, that was for fucking sure.
“Okay,” he said before she could speak. Before yet another refusal could remind him

again of the dangers of opening himself up. “I guess it’s your loss.” He pushed himself
away from her, dealing with his pants, then throwing the condom in a nearby
wastebasket.

And he smiled. To show her just how much he didn’t give a shit. “As long as you

understand that was a one-shot deal. I’m not going to offer again.”

She stood in the alcove, a dim shadow. But he didn’t need to see the expression on

her face. All he needed to know was in the sound of her voice. Cool and level, the
businesswoman once more.

“I understand, of course. Good-bye, Mr. Morrow,” Victoria said. “I’ll be in touch.”
And before he could move, she slipped by him and was gone.

Chapter 6

Victoria checked her watch yet again. Ten minutes late. Well, she shouldn’t be

surprised. This was probably another Donovan Morrow power play. Like the whole damn
week had been a Donovan Morrow power play.

She’d tried to change their Friday meeting numerous times, at first calling him and

then, when all she’d gotten was his voice mail, sending him e-mails. Eventually his
secretary had given her a call back, telling her that Mr. Morrow was very busy and there
wasn’t a gap in his schedule any earlier.

Which was a lie. He could have called her back, organized another meeting if he’d

wanted to. But he didn’t want to. And she suspected she knew why.

She’d hurt him the night of the engagement party and now she was being punished

for it.

Victoria swallowed, turning from the table and walking slowly over to the huge

windows, with their view of the New York skyline. Buildings glittered in the afternoon
sunlight, the sky hazy.

He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what he’d done to her that night.
He’d shown her what more there was and she hadn’t realized how badly she’d wanted

it until he’d whispered in her ear, I’ve got you. Trust me . And even though she’d only met
him for the first time hours earlier, she’d given herself over to him, trusted him. Enough
to give him control, scream out her climax into his hand in the middle of a public club.

It was too much. For a woman used to the small crumbs of attention her father cast

her way, who was used to being always on the edges of things, to be right in the middle
of all that feeling, to be the sole focus of his attention, was far too much.

Easier by far to pull back. To be the businesswoman. To be the ball-busting de Winter

ice princess.

But how could she explain that to him? How could she make him understand without

revealing about herself that even one night with him would be too hard? That she was
afraid of keeping off the mask for too long in case she didn’t know how to wear it again.

And if she wasn’t a de Winter, then who was she?
No one. Nothing.
Victoria stared at her reflection in the glass. There were shadows under her eyes.

Shadows from restless nights spent aching for something she told herself she didn’t want.

God, she was slipping. She hadn’t even done what she’d threatened at the party and

taken the De Winter offer to Jax. And she didn’t know why that was.

Of course you know why. For some reason he doesn’t want to sell the land. It’s

important to him. And you don’t want to hurt him again.

Pathetic. Scruples like that wouldn’t get her the deal, that was for goddamn sure.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Victoria reflexively smoothed a stray red curl back into her bun and turned around as

the meeting room door opened and Donovan walked in.

And her heart stuttered in her chest.
He was dressed in an impeccably tailored dark suit with a deep blue shirt, no tie, the

color of the material contrasting with the tanned skin of his throat. His black hair looked
like someone had run their fingers through it one too many times, making her own fingers
itch to do the same.

The man gave new meaning to the word sexy.
She couldn’t tear her gaze away as he stalked over to the meeting-room table, threw

some papers down on it, then pulled out a chair and sat down in an easy, fluid sprawl.
And she understood that there was another reason she hadn’t gone to Jax with the offer.

She’d wanted to see Donovan again. Wanted to know why he didn’t want to sell. Why

this land was so important to him.

“I have to tell you, Ms. de Winter,” Donovan said, leaning forward, elbows on the

table, fingers clasped, “that this will be a very short meeting. My stance on the Morrow
docklands hasn’t changed. I will not be selling at any price.”

Victoria folded her hands carefully in front of her. “Then why did you agree to meet

me in the first place?”

“I thought it was only fair to tell you personally.”
“You could just as easily have e-mailed me your decision earlier. I presume you got all

my messages? And e-mails?”

He smiled, the meaningless, charming smile of the playboy. “Of course. I think you

single-handedly crashed my inbox.”

“Then why didn’t you respond?” She tried to make the question neutral and not like an

accusation. “You’re obviously very busy and you could have saved yourself a meeting with
me.”

“Like I said, I wanted to see you face to face.” That empty smile widened. “I find the

personal touch to be so important in business, don’t you think?”

A strange thing to say when there was nothing personal in his smile. Or in his cold

blue eyes. Like she was just another minor bit of business he had to tidy up and not a
woman he’d been inside of. A woman he’d had screaming against his hand in pleasure.

A woman he’d asked home in a desperate, ragged voice.
What do you expect? You refused him. You hurt him. And you know what it’s like to be

hurt.

Her throat felt tight, sore. “I’m sorry,” she said. “About last Friday. I didn’t mean—”
“Apologies for interrupting, Ms. de Winter, but is that it?” He stared at her over his

steepled hands. “I have business deals to do and women to screw, you know how it is.”
The look in his eyes was guileless but she was under no illusions.

He was shocking her, confronting her.
Punishing her.
She didn’t know why that should hurt, or even why it should matter. But it did.
“So that’s it?” she asked coolly. “De Winter doesn’t get a chance to argue? Make a

better offer?”

“I thought I made myself clear when I said ‘not at any price.’”
“Everyone has a price, Mr. Morrow.”

He smiled again. “Not this time. Not when there’s nothing you have that I want.”
She didn’t miss the subtext. He’d made it so easy to spot, after all. But if he thought

she was going to lie down and take it he was wrong.

Victoria walked slowly over to the table, put her palms down on the edge of it, and

leaned forward, meeting his hard gaze. “Are you so very sure of that? Are you sure there
isn’t something I can do to make you change your mind?”

He laughed, a soft, distinctly un-amused sound. “What part of ‘not at any price’ don’t

you understand, Ms. de Winter? Points for determination, I admit, but determination isn’t
going to get you that land if I don’t want to sell it.”

“I think you underestimate the power of my determination.” She lifted a brow. “Tell

me, because I’m curious. Why don’t you want to sell? It’s just a bit of rundown docklands
real estate. Nothing special.”

A ripple of something she couldn’t interpret crossed his face. “It’s Morrow land, like I

told you. It needs to stay in Morrow hands.”

“That’s not what your brother thinks.”
“My brother doesn’t understand. That land has history and selling to someone else

won’t make that history go away.” He leaned back in his seat and the flicker of something
intense glowed in his eyes, the empty smile fading. “It’s a legacy, Ms. de Winter. The
Morrow legacy. And I will not let someone else have it.”

She hadn’t been wrong. As she suspected, this was important to him.
Which made things so much more difficult.
It wouldn’t be difficult if you didn’t care.
But that was the problem. She was starting to.
“You care about it,” she said. “It’s personal to you.”
Another flicker in his eyes. His mouth curled as he smiled again, his shoulders relaxing

as he folded his arms. “We’re territorial bastards, us Morrows. Everything is personal to
us.”

Yet Victoria wasn’t fooled. He was minimizing. Deflecting. Yes, he cared and, yes, it

was personal.

A pressure settled in her chest. Because this was going to leave her with even fewer

options.

Donovan clearly wasn’t going to agree to sell, which meant she would have to go over

his head and take the De Winter offer to Jax directly. It was either that or leave it, find
some other land for her development. But that wouldn’t mean anything to her father …

“So what’s De Winter’s interest in this?” Donovan asked. That smile played around his

mouth but his gaze had turned sharp, piercing. “There are other pieces of real estate in
New York. You don’t need Morrow’s.”

Victoria pushed herself away from the table, abruptly turning and walking back to the

window again, staring unseeing through the glass.

It would be a risk to tell him, to reveal that this was personal to her, too. Hand him a

weakness he could use to his advantage. And yet …

I’ve got you. Trust me.
She focused on a helicopter coming in to land on the rooftop of a nearby building,

hovering like a giant bumblebee as the pilot lined up the helipad. “No, De Winter doesn’t
need Morrow land. But I do.”

“Why? What does this land matter to you?”
“It doesn’t matter to me, at least not in the way you think. But …” She turned around.

“It matters to my father. He wants a piece of the Morrow legacy, and that particular
piece, with that particular history, is pretty much perfect.”

Donovan didn’t move, still in that relaxed, easy sprawl. But his eyes were cold. “That

piece of land has nothing to do with your father.”

“Actually, it does. Dad is pretty certain his grandfather used to own it and was

cheated out of it by a Morrow. He thinks it’s de Winter land and he wants it back.”

“How interesting. That’s not in any of our history.”
“Yes, well, that’s the story Dad tells.”
“So presumably it’s your job to get it back?”
Victoria took a breath. “He didn’t send me after it if that’s what you’re thinking. Buying

the land was my idea.”

“Why? What do you get out of it? A nice fat bonus? A promotion?” He lifted one dark

brow. “A pat on the head for being such a good girl?”

He’ll finally see that blood doesn’t matter. That you’re a de Winter and always have

been.

But how could she say that? What would Donovan know about the need to belong?

About the need to prove yourself in order to feel part of something? He was the rich and
privileged son of a rich and privileged family. A family he’d been born into. He wouldn’t
understand what it felt like to have your acceptance into your own family conditional.
Because you didn’t have the blood. Because the one person who wanted you died and
you were a walking, talking reminder of that death.

Because you were an unwanted gift that couldn’t be returned.
He didn’t know. He had no idea.
Victoria glanced away out the window. “Dad said he’d admit me to the De Winter

board. And formally make me his successor.”

“So, a promotion then.”
No. It was so much more, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. It was too personal,

gave away far too much. “An important promotion,” she amended carefully.

Donovan let out a breath. “Well, as much as I’d love to sell my birthright for your

important promotion, I believe my answer stands. Not at any price, Ms. de Winter.”

She hadn’t expected to change his mind so his response didn’t surprise her.
Turning once more from the window, she stared at him. “Your brother wants to sell.”
He shifted in his chair, put his hands behind his head, legs stretched out underneath

the table, his long body in one careless, indolent sprawl. As if he didn’t have a care in the
world. Yet those eyes of his were so sharp they were like shards of glass. “.” And I’ll tell
him if he sells it to you I’ll leave the company.”

“You think he’d stop the sale if it meant losing you?”
“I don’t think it, Victoria. I know it. Morrows stick together.”
So did de Winters. But she knew if she threatened to leave her father’s company, if

she gave Cameron de Winter a choice between herself and the land deal, he’d choose the
land deal.

She wasn’t his blood. She wasn’t his choice. She’d never been his choice.
A longing broke open inside her, a longing so intense she had to turn away so

Donovan wouldn’t see it.

What would it be like to be chosen? And what would it be like to be able to trust that

choice so completely you knew down to your bones that you’d never be left. Never be
abandoned. Never be unwanted.

Her throat closed, the pressure in her chest increasing.
She’d never had that kind of security, at least not since her mother had died. But she’d

hoped this deal would go some way toward proving to him. That she was worth choosing.

Determination settled down inside her. Donovan would change his mind. She’d make

him. The only question was how. With the threat of Jax out of the equation she needed
some other way of one-upping him.

“I think we’re done here, aren’t we?” His lazy voice came from behind her. “Well, it’s

been fabulous doing business with you, Ms. de Winter, but—”

“But nothing.” Victoria turned back, purpose steeling her spine. “We’re not done, Mr.

Morrow. Not by a long shot.”

“You’re still not getting it, are you? I’m not selling.” That smile again. “Not now, not

tomorrow, not in a hundred fucking years.”

“And there’s nothing I can do to make you change your mind?”
“Well, unless you have another slice of Morrow history somewhere up your sleeve,

then no.” He dropped his arms, began to gather up the papers in front of him.

Oh, hell. He was going to leave.
Victoria walked swiftly over to the table. “I said we’re not done.”
He didn’t even look at her. “I’m afraid we are. I have another meeting in …,”—he

glanced at his watch—“ten minutes, and I don’t want to be late.”

“But … we haven’t finished.”
Donovan’s blue eyes lifted to hers, pinned her to the spot. “Yes, Ms. de Winter, we

have.”

Something twisted in her chest. Something painful. “Well, have you got another

meeting time? Tomorrow maybe?”

“I’m afraid not.” That impersonal, horrible smile again. “I’m afraid my schedule is

going to be booked up for the foreseeable future.”

She understood then. If he walked out that door, that would be it. The deal would be

over, and not only that. It was highly likely she’d never see him again, either.

The painful feeling in her chest intensified.
“This isn’t about the land. This is about last week, isn’t it?” she said abruptly. “You’re

punishing me for walking away from you.”

He laughed, but there was a harsh edge to it. “Why would I do that? To punish you,

I’d have to care. And I don’t. So there goes that theory.”

Without thinking she reached out and put a hand on his arm.
Donovan froze and she felt it, too, the burn of their chemistry. The heat of him

beneath the wool of his suit jacket. The hard strength of muscle and sinew that all the
wool in the world couldn’t hide from her.

Green flames sparked in his eyes and she saw it. Anger.
Yes, she’d been right. She had hurt him. And he was punishing her.
“If you don’t care, then why are you so angry?” she demanded, keeping her hand on

his arm, vaguely aware that her own anger wasn’t just about him jeopardizing this deal
for personal reasons. That it had something to do with the thought of not seeing him
again.

“Angry?” His smile widened. “I’m not angry. What I am is late. So if you’ll excuse me.”

He shook her hand away and pushed his chair back.

Dammit, he couldn’t leave.
Acting purely on instinct, Victoria stepped between him and the meeting room table.

Then she pushed herself up so she was sitting on the edge, directly in front of him, and
placed one stiletto-clad foot, then the other, on the arms of his chair. Caging him in the
chair.

Donovan stilled, shock tightening the lines of his face. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I told you we weren’t done and we’re not.”
Anger flared across his features, a brief, bright flame. Then it was gone and he was

smiling that smile again, the one she’d come to despise. Gradually the tension left his
body and he sat back in the chair, his gaze dipping down to where her skirt rode up to her
thighs. Where no doubt he had the perfect view of her panties.

“Nice,” he drawled. “So what are you offering to make me stay? Another blow job?

Because that might work, though I’m not making any promises.”

He was doing it again. He was deflecting her with that horrible smile and that playboy

facade.

“Shock tactics won’t work on me, Mr. Morrow,” she said coolly. “I thought you would

have learned that by now.”

He lifted his hands and all the air disappeared from her lungs, as he wrapped his

fingers around her ankles on either side of him, then slid them higher up her calves.
“Then clearly I need to be more shocking.”

Heat flashed through her, her skin prickling, an ache beginning to build between her

thighs.

“Shall I fuck you right here, Victoria?” Donovan murmured, his thumbs sliding back

down to caress her ankles. “Or should I just walk away? Leave you sitting here on my
meeting room table?”

She tried to calm her racing heartbeat. “You’d better make sure you can walk away

before you make ultimatums like that.”

He laughed. “You think I can’t? Just watch me, sweetheart.” His fingers tightened

around her left ankle and he pulled it off the arm of the chair, rising to his feet.

Oh, hell.
Taking a breath, she put one hand behind her and leaned back. “I suppose you could

leave,” she said, hoping she sounded calm and in charge. “Alternatively you could stay
and watch me instead.”

And there it was. The merest flicker in his gaze, but she caught it. Knew he’d heard

the heat she’d let deliberately bleed into her voice. “Stay and watch you do what?”

She swallowed, her heart racing. Because she knew how she could win this. Make him

stay. Make him do whatever the hell she wanted him to do. And the thought of it thrilled
her, excited her in a way she didn’t quite understand.

Slowly, she let her legs fall open a little wider and watched as his gaze dipped again,

as if drawn helplessly between her thighs.

“You think I’d give that away?” she said, her voice not quite as steady as it had been.

“I’m a businesswoman, Mr. Morrow. Negotiation is my middle name. If you want to find
out, you’ll have to stay.”

“It’ll have to be quite a show, Ms. de Winter.”
She met his gaze. Held it. “Oh, I assure you, it will be.”
He hesitated a moment more, then, with an easy movement, sat back in the chair,

placing her foot once more on the arm. “Then by all means. Entertain me.”

Perhaps she was mad to consider what she was considering. She’d never done it

before, after all. And yet she wanted to. Make this arrogant playboy sweat. Make him see
that while she could walk away from him, he couldn’t walk away from her.

Acknowledge that she was the one who wielded the greater power.
Her heart beating even faster, Victoria eased her skirt up, allowing her knees to fall

open wider. He didn’t move but his jaw tightened as his attention dipped between her
legs.

She leaned back further, a thick, heavy heat beginning to build inside her. Reaching

down, she let her hand slide inside the waistband of her panties.

A thin strip of color stained his cheekbones.
She watched him, stroking one finger over her clit, shivering at the sensation and at

the tight, hungry look that crept over his face in response.

“Are you entertained, Mr. Morrow?” she couldn’t help asking. “Still think you can walk

away?”

His gaze flicked to hers, green burning bright. Then he pulled his chair in, so he was

right up close to the table, his breath feathering over the sensitive skin of her thighs. Like
he was preparing to eat. His hands lifted.

“Oh, no,” she said breathlessly. “Did I forget to mention? No touching. So put your

hands on the table.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?”
“I’m not fucking kidding you. Hands on the table. Or else I stop.”
Again that intense gaze. “I could leave.”
Victoria moved her hand, biting her lip as she stroked her clit again, making sure he

could see it. “Feel free,” she murmured. “I’m quite happy here by myself.”

He wasn’t going to leave, not if she could help it.
Deliberately she closed her eyes as if he’d already gone, tipping her head back,

spreading her legs wider. She eased a finger inside her sex, feeling her own slick, hot
flesh grip tight, and she let the moan escape, the sound vibrating in the silence of the
room.

The sound of fabric shifting, the sense of someone looming above her.
She opened her eyes. He was standing with his hands flat on the table on either side

of her, his gaze glued between her thighs, the look on his face was so intent she almost
couldn’t breathe.

He wasn’t smiling now. Wasn’t in any way that lazy, taunting playboy. He looked

hungry. Starving. For her.

A surge of power went through her, twisting the pleasure harder, tighter. She’d made

him stay. She’d put that look on his face.

“You want to watch me come, Donovan?” she asked raggedly. “Is that what you

want?”

“Fuck, yes.”
“Then watch.”
All it took was a flick of her wrist, a movement of her thumb and the climax

overwhelmed her, pleasure igniting like a flash fire. She held his gaze as she rode out the
orgasm, shuddering, seeing him stripped bare. All hunger. All desire.

And she knew then that this wasn’t about business. Or power games or masks.
This desire, this need, went deeper than that, struck at the heart of both of them. And

she wanted to explore it. See where it would lead.

She pushed herself up, panting with the aftershocks. “I want to come home with you,

Donovan. I want that night you promised me.”

His gaze never left hers. “I said it was a one-shot deal. I wouldn’t offer again.”
Victoria lifted a foot and pressed it against the fly of his suit trousers. He hissed

between his teeth, his whole body going rigid and no wonder, even through the soles of
her black stilettos she could feel how hard he was. “You’re really going to turn me down?
Or do you want to punish me again?”

He closed his fingers around her ankle but he didn’t pull her away, only held it, his grip

warm and strong. “That’s tempting, believe me.” His throat moved, the white shirt he
was wearing stretching tight over his powerful chest as he took a sharp breath. “I don’t
know what you do to me, Victoria de Winter.” The intensity in his eyes burned hot. “I
want to tell you that was it. That you don’t get another chance. But … you’re the sexiest
fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

She moved, obeying an instinct she hadn’t known she possessed, sitting up and

reaching a hand behind his neck, bringing his head down, his mouth on hers. Only a brush
of lips but he let her. And when she released him, she said, “I’m sorry. I was wrong. And I
was scared. I shouldn’t have walked away from you.”

He looked down into her eyes, his thumb pressing hard against her ankle like she was

pressing her sole against his fly. “This isn’t about business. Understand? If you come
home with me, you come because you want me. Not because of this deal. Not because
you want my land.” His voice was hard but she could hear a thread running through it.
The same longing that had her in its grasp, too.

“I understand.” She took an uneven breath. “Anyway I’ve … already come because I

want you after all.”

This time the smile that turned his mouth was genuine. Full of a deep, warm

sensuality that she didn’t expect and caught the breath in her throat. “I got that. Believe
me, I got that.” The smile faded, but the warmth lingered in his eyes. “Just one night,
okay?”

“Just one night,” she echoed.
He stepped back and she closed her legs, shivering a little as he helped smooth her

skirt down, then taking her hands and helping her off the table. And he kept hold of them,
turning them palm up and kissing each one in a swift motion.

“I have to go. Like I said, I’m late and your … entertainment has made me even later.

I’ll text you my details, okay?”

“Okay.”
He released her hands and bent to pick up the papers on the table. Then he turned,

and without another word, strode from the room.

Victoria leaned against the table, her legs weak. And smiled.
She didn’t know who’d won this round, but this time she had the oddest feeling that

they both had.

Chapter 7

Donovan put the cold beer down on one corner of the plans for the docklands estate

he had spread out on his coffee table, and looked down at them, frowning.

He’d been fiddling with the plans ever since that exposé had hit the headlines and the

Morrow’s gangland past had been splashed all through the media. Jax wanted that past
buried and had made it his mission to get rid of those old ties—such as the old Morrow
HQ.

But Donovan had never been convinced that was the best course of action. Buried

secrets never stayed buried for long, and he’d always been of the opinion that if you had
bad shit in your past you acknowledged it, owned it. So no one could use it against you.

It had been a strategy that had worked well in his PR business and he knew it would

work here with the land, too. Except Jax had nixed it. Big brother always thought he
knew best but big brother was wrong. Big brother needed to damn well listen to him for a
change.

Donovan stared down at the plans, at the sketches of a memorial to those who’d died

in the gangland wars half a century ago now. And the small museum on the history of the
area, including a reconstruction of Morrow HQ as it would have looked during the bad old
days. Reminders of a family history steeped in blood. Deliberate reminders because, as
the old saying went, those who forgot history were doomed to repeat it.

Neither Jax nor his father seemed to have learned that particular lesson, which meant

it was up to Donovan to make them.

Just at that moment his phone, sitting on the table next to him, vibrated. He glanced

down at the screen. Speak of the devil. It was a text from Jax.

You closed that deal yet? I wanted it gone this week.
Donovan picked up the phone, debated calling his brother and having it out with him

then and there. But no. Victoria would be arriving soon and there was no way he wanted
that interrupted.

He texted Jax a response instead. Talk to you about it tomorrow morning.
It better be good news. His brother texted back.
Donovan’s smile had nothing to do with amusement as he answered. Sure. It’s good

news.

Because it was good news. He’d be selling that land over his dead body and Jax

needed to know. Of course, his brother wouldn’t be happy, but if he forced the issue then
Donovan was going to do what he’d told Victoria—he’d threaten to leave Morrow.

He wanted that land. He wanted something of the family’s that was his because,

Jesus, after all he’d done for Morrow when his father had run the company, didn’t he
deserve it?

Jax texted back. Tomorrow then. 9am sharp.
Donovan texted an affirmative, then reached for his beer and took a sip.
Tomorrow for sure. He was going to lay down the law to big brother.

The intercom buzzed all of a sudden.
And all thoughts of Jax and the plans went straight out of his head.
Victoria.
A rush of anticipation swept through him, along with a healthy dose of good, old-

fashioned lust. After her little performance on the desk that morning he’d had meeting
after meeting, pure torture at the best of times let alone with a hard-on that wouldn’t
quit.

But now was the moment he’d been looking forward to all day. She was here.
He put his beer down and got up, went over to the intercom unit, and stuck his thumb

on the button. “What is it, Danny?”

“There’s a lady here to see you, Mr. Morrow,” his doorman said. “She wouldn’t give

her name but she said you’re expecting her.”

Desire twisted inside of him, hot and intense. “Send her up.”
He turned, swept an eye around his massive apartment. Christ, first time ever he’d

had a woman up here—first time he’d had anyone up here—and there was a strange,
unsteady feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He hadn’t thought he’d change his mind about inviting her home after she’d refused

him at the club. He’d been determined to tell her what to do with her business offer, then
get rid of her as quickly as possible. And yet the instant he’d seen her standing by the
window in the meeting room, her small figure all neat and precise in her suit, not one red
strand of hair out of place, he’d known getting rid of her would be far more difficult than
he’d thought.

All he kept seeing was the woman in his limo. The woman in the club. A passionate,

sensual woman who had looked at him like he was the only man in the world.

A woman he wanted to get to know way more than was good for him.
And then she’d gotten up on that meeting room table and all those good intentions

had vanished as if they’d never been. She’d been right about one thing—he couldn’t walk
away from her. Not after that.

Donovan ran a hand through his hair and it was goddamned shaking, though he had

no idea why. No, he hadn’t had a woman up here before, but that didn’t mean anything.
Didn’t mean Victoria was special.

So why did you ask her here then?
He ignored the thought and through sheer force of will stilled his shaking hand. They

were only here to have that one night that had been interrupted at the club. That’s all.
Nothing more. He had to remember that.

There was a knock on the main door of his apartment. Pulling himself firmly together,

Donovan went down the hallway and tugged open the door.

She stood in the foyer outside the apartment, her hair loose around her shoulders in a

spill of gleaming red. A perfect foil to the shimmering silver gown she wore. It had a
plunging neckline, showcasing the most incredible cleavage he’d ever seen, hugging the
curves of her hips and thighs. There was an old world, pin-up glamour about her that took
his breath away. A glamour that her severe suits and fastidious bun had only hinted at.

He leaned against the door frame, taking her in. “You dressed up for the occasion. I

like it. You look like a real princess now.”

She colored, her mouth curving. “No princesses tonight, ice or otherwise. Tonight I

thought I’d just be Victoria.” A slight pause. “Like you’d be Van.”

So she’d remembered what he’d said at the club. He shifted against the door frame,

desire sinking its claws into him. “Well, you look beautiful. I feel I should put on my tux to
match.” He was only half-joking.

“No.” Her gaze flicked down his body. “I like the jeans and T-shirt.”
The unsettled feeling turned over in his gut. He ignored it. “I only wear them at

home.”

“Then don’t change.” Her gaze met his. “Ms. de Winter and her suits aren’t here

tonight. So let’s leave Mr. Morrow and his tux for the morning.”

His mouth felt dry, his heart speeding up. Like she’d seen past him. Into him.
This was ridiculous. He felt like an awkward teenage boy on his first date, an

unfamiliar feeling since he’d never been awkward, not around women, and certainly not
as a teenager. Jesus, what the hell was different about her?

You know what’s different. You’ve never been just Van to a woman before.
Her brows creased. “Are you okay?”
And he wanted to laugh, to smile, to tell her he was fine, but instead he heard himself

say, “This is the first time I’ve ever invited a woman here.”

Fuck. Why had he said that?
Victoria stared at him, an expression in her eyes that looked familiar though he

couldn’t place it. Then she took a step toward him, rose on her toes, and kissed him, like
she had in the meeting room that morning. Soft. Sweet. Leaving him full of that
unsteady, shaky feeling again.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, and without waiting for a response, went past him and

into the apartment, leaving the subtle scent of flowers in her wake.

Thank you. God, how could two simple words make him feel so unsettled? So raw?
He tried to ignore the sensation, pushing himself away from the door frame and

following her inside, down into the lounge area.

Victoria was standing in the middle of the room, looking around. At the comfortable,

worn leather couches and his mother’s collection of Middle Eastern rugs, the bright colors
of his art collection and the messy scatter of books. And again that raw feeling caught
him, like his soul had been spread out in front of her for approval.

He hated the emotion. Like he was back in his father’s office again, trying to show him

a piece of school work or a drawing he’d done and being ignored, dismissed. Like nothing
he did was ever good enough or of any interest whatsoever.

Christ, what was wrong with him? It was just an apartment full of the things he liked

to have around him. Nothing major.

Donovan thrust his hands in his pockets, pasted on his usual smile. The one that

made it look like he didn’t give a shit. “It’s not much,” he said flippantly. “But it’s home.”

She looked at him. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Smile like that. And use that … tone. Like you don’t care.”

His jaw felt tight. “Perhaps I don’t.”
“No, you do care. You just don’t want people to know that you do.”
He found he’d tensed up, his muscles tight. “If I’d realized we were going to have a

heart-to-heart chat, I would have finished my damn beer. Maybe even have had a
second.”

There was a silence, deafening.
Victoria’s gray eyes didn’t budge from his. “What are you so afraid of?”
He wanted to say he wasn’t afraid. That she was wrong, he didn’t care. But he

couldn’t get the words out. Instead he found he was repeating himself, like a fool, “No
one else has ever been here. Not even my brother.”

She blinked. “So why me?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, wanting the conversation to be over and done with right

now. “Can I get you anything?”

“You’re changing the subject. If you must know, this”—she waved a hand at the

apartment—“isn’t what I was expecting.”

Relax, you fucking idiot.
He tried to force the tension out of his shoulders. Failed. “And what were you

expecting?”

“I don’t know. Something … more minimalist, I guess. Something a lot more sleek and

shiny.” One corner of her mouth turned up. “A bit more like Mr. Morrow actually.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not.”
“I can see that.” Her voice was utterly neutral, no judgment there at all. “I like it. It’s

comfortable. Restful. And it makes me curious.”

“Curious?”
“To know more about you.”
“That’s not what this night is supposed to be about, Victoria.”
She remained still, the light shimmering across the fabric of her gown in time with her

breathing. “It can be about whatever we want, Van.” Her throat moved as she
swallowed. “And I want it to be about more than just sex.”

He could see fear in her eyes and it was familiar. Mainly because he felt it, too. The

fear of rejection. Of being honest, of opening yourself up and having that flung back in
your face.

He kept his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do with them, unsure of what to

do period, the unsettled feeling turning and turning like a ship caught in a whirlpool.

She looked down at her hands wrapped around her silver purse, held protectively in

front of her like a shield. “I’m adopted,” she said… “After my brother was born, my
mother became infertile. She’d always wanted a girl and eventually convinced my father
to let her adopt one. Dad didn’t want another child. But he loved Mom and in the end let
her have her way.” She let out a soft breath. “Mom died unexpectedly when I was eight,
and after she died, my dad was left with me, the child he never wanted in the first place.
Kind of like an unwanted gift he couldn’t return.” Her head lifted, , something painful in
her eyes that made his heart constrict in a way he wasn’t used to. “I know he did his best
for me, but he’s always made it clear that I wasn’t his choice, that he adopted me for

Mom rather than because he wanted me.”

Christ. He knew how that felt. He knew it intimately. “What do you want from me

then?”

Her eyes were direct, full of a bare honesty that made him want to look away. But he

didn’t. He couldn’t.

“I want you to make me feel special, Van. Like I’m someone’s choice. Like I’m worth

something to someone. I’ve never had that before, not even from James, my own damn
fiancé.”

The edge of pain in her voice was like a knife against his skin. Because he knew what

it was like to want to mean something to someone and yet know you didn’t mean a
fucking thing. How it hurt. How desperate it made you. And how, in the end, in order to
protect yourself you had to pretend not to care. Pretend and hope that one day, it would
actually be true.

Donovan took his hands out of his pockets, walked across the room to her, gripped

her hips, and tugged her close.

“I meant what I said when I told you no one else has ever been here,” he murmured,

looking down into her eyes. “You’re the first. Because you are special, Victoria. And I
intend to spend all night showing you if that’s what you want.”

Victoria moved her thumb over the hard muscle of his chest in a caressing motion. She

was achingly conscious of everywhere he was touching her and everywhere he wasn’t.
And part of her just wanted to melt into him and let him take what he so obviously
wanted.

But that wasn’t the way it was going to happen tonight.
She’d known that morning as she’d sat on his meeting room table that what was

between them was more than passion and sexual chemistry. There was familiarity,
recognition. As if deep down they were the same somehow.

It made her want to know more about him. More about the man he kept so carefully

hidden. The man in jeans and a T-shirt who lived in a warm, homely apartment
surrounded by books and art, and not the stainless steel and sleek modernity she’d
expected.

He surprised her. He kept on surprising her and she wanted to know more.
She also wanted more of that feeling her gave her. Like she was special. Different.

Like she was worth knowing by him, too.

Victoria looked up into his eyes, saw the heat in them. And something else. “What

about you?” she asked quietly. “Do you have anything you want to share?”

He smiled. “No. It’s all happy families where the Morrows are concerned.”
But she knew that smile by now. And the reason for it. “So I’m honest with you, but

you don’t have to reciprocate? You know that’s not how it works.”

Donovan’s gaze flickered. Then he bent his head, brushed his mouth against her ear,

sending a shiver straight through her. “What works is me showing you my bedroom. And
then perhaps we can continue this conversation afterward.”

Oh, she could do that. She could let him distract her with passion, with pleasure. Yet if

she did, next thing she knew it would be morning and he’d never have told her a damn
thing. Well, she hadn’t let him get away with pulling that crap before. She wasn’t going to
now.

Pulling her head away from his exploring mouth, she looked into his eyes. “I thought I

was special?”

A flash of frustration crossed his face. “So, what do you want from me then?”
“Let me go and I’ll tell you.”
There was reluctance in his eyes as he let her go and that gave her a small burst of

satisfaction. “What is it then?”

She turned, putting down her purse on the rough granite of the coffee table, then

walking slowly to the windows. The night beyond the glass pressed in, the lights of the
city sparkling like a scatter of diamonds.

She had to think about this. About how to get him to drop that smiling, slick, playboy

mask. He was protecting himself, she was sure of it. The same way she used the hard-
edged businesswoman to protect herself. Because it was easier to be someone else than
be yourself.

And the face Donovan Morrow showed the world wasn’t who he was.
Someone else lay beneath that. Someone far more intense and serious. Someone who

filled his apartment with comfortable, vintage furniture. With bright, Eastern-style rugs on
the floor and colorful abstracts on the walls. Someone who filled those low shelves with
books and magazines, all stacked neatly, with small sculptures and knickknacks arranged
at intervals.

Someone whose home wasn’t a showpiece or a hotel room. There was no artifice

about it and yet the place was full of beauty and heart. Full of passion and interest in
more than parties and women and money.

Victoria took a breath then glanced back to where he stood.
His feet were bare, his inky black hair untidy. And she knew she was seeing him for

the first time. Not the seductive man in the limo or the club, or the hard businessman
across the meeting room table. But someone else. Someone she’d never met before.

“You think I told you about Dad for nothing, Van?” she asked quietly. “Well, I didn’t. I

told you because I hoped you’d share with me, too.”

His jaw tightened. “That was your decision, not mine.”
“You don’t trust me? Is that it?”
He was silent again. So long that she thought she wouldn’t get anything at all from

him. Then, at last, he said, “It’s not that. I just … don’t talk about myself. To anyone.”

“Why not?”
“Because there’s nothing pretty in my background. Nothing inspiring. Just a lot of

fucking mistakes.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Van. I shouldn’t have gotten engaged to James, yet I did.

I shouldn’t have let my dad’s indifference matter, yet it did.” She swallowed. “I shouldn’t
have walked away from you that night in the club, but I did. I walked away.”

He looked down at the ground for a long moment. Then slowly he walked over to the

windows, coming to stand across from her, one shoulder hitched against the glass,

Chapter 8

It was like a Band-Aid being ripped off, exposing a raw, red, and ugly wound. He even

saw her flinch. “But … You are a Morrow. Aren’t you?”

Donovan looked away, out into the night. He wasn’t supposed to care about this

anymore. So why was it so hard to say? “I had to work for the company, because we all
had to. And we started at the bottom since Dad wanted us to prove ourselves. He’d never
thought much of me and I was desperate to prove him wrong.” Desperate for attention.
Desperate to get the same kind of respect Jax and Sean got.

Damn, useless pretty boy. Always with the books. That’s no way to get respect,

Donovan, you hear me? You have to get your hands dirty, not think about fuck knows
what all day long.

“One of his female executives took a shine to me and I … well, I was sixteen and

horny. She seduced me, and after a couple of sessions on her desk, told me all about how
her  husband  didn’t  pay  attention  to  her  anymore.  How  he  was  always  at  work  at  this
other company. She basically spilled all his secrets.” He stared out the window into the
darkness.  “I  didn’t  think  anything  of  it  until  I  heard  Dad  was  staging  some  kind  of
takeover of this company. So I told him what I knew. And he was … impressed.” Donovan
looked  at  her.  “For  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I’d  done  something  to  impress  the  old
bastard.”

“So, what? You kept doing it?”
“Of course I did. Then Dad started giving me specific people to target.”
“Oh, God …”
He didn’t like that look in her eyes, the pity there. Yeah, what a sad, desperate kid

he’d been back then. He’d pity himself, too, if he was her. “It was wrong, the whole thing
was wrong. But you know the worst part? It was finding out he wasn’t even using the
information I got him. He was keeping it for ‘insurance purposes.’” Bitterness coated the
words but he couldn’t stop them. “Basically I’d whored myself out for nothing. So, that’s
when I told him I was leaving. He didn’t even argue. Just shrugged his shoulders and let
me go. After I’d prostituted myself for him.” He laughed, the sound harsh. “Like I didn’t
even fucking matter.”

A long, tense silence fell.
Jesus. He was crazy. Why the hell had he said all that stuff? Now he felt broken open,

all his secrets exposed. The dirty things he’d had to do and merely for his father’s
approval. His father’s love. Love he hadn’t ever in the end received.

Donovan kept his gaze out of the window, out into the night. Dirty and broken, that’s

what he was, and if there was the slightest judgment or pity in her gaze this time he
didn’t know what he’d do.

“So, you went and founded your PR company?” Victoria’s voice was completely

neutral, making his throat tighten for reasons he couldn’t have explained.

He cleared it. “Yeah. I was always better with the people side of things.”

“Why did you go back to Morrow?”
“Because Jax was running the show and he made me a good offer. I was bored with

where I was anyway and …” Shit, he’d already spilled his guts to her, what was another
confession? “And I guess even after all the crap I went through with Dad, I still wanted to
find my place there.”

“Why? Why go back after all that?”
He turned his head, met her level gray eyes. “Because Dad left me with nothing. I did

all his dirty work for him and I got sweet fuck all. And I want something for what I did. I
want something from this fucking family for what I had to do for him. Jax gets the
company. I want that land.”

She didn’t flinch, just stared at him. And what she was thinking he had no idea. Then

she took a couple of steps toward him until she was standing inches away, the glass of
the window on one side of her, the night just beyond. She lifted a hand, pressed it palm
down on his chest, spreading her fingers out, and he felt the burn of heat seep through
him.

“It’s strange,” she murmured. “We want that land for the same reasons. To show

someone we’re worth something.”

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, holding her, the ache of desire and a strange

yearning gathering inside him. “It’s not just about the important promotion to you, is it?”

“No. I thought … I thought if I could get this land for him—de Winter land—that he’d

finally be glad he adopted me after all. That he’d love me like a father should, and not
see me as this … person he never wanted. This constant reminder that the woman he
loved wasn’t there anymore.”

There was pain in her eyes and he felt it inside himself, too. The pain of a truth laid

bare.

And he wanted to make it stop, wanted to give them both something good to replace

it. To cancel it out. Replace it with pleasure, because sometimes words weren’t enough.
Luckily, that was the one thing he was very good at giving.

Releasing her wrist he lifted his hands, cupping her face between his palms. “I want

you, Victoria,” he said softly, fiercely. “Understand me? I want you.” Then he showed her,
bending and covering her mouth with his.

She didn’t make a sound, opening up to him immediately. Arching up, winding her

arms around his neck, kissing him back, hot and hungry and as desperate as he was. He
could smell the scent of her, vanilla and musk, and he felt suddenly dizzy with want. With
need. Fuck, if he didn’t have her now, he was going to go insane.

But … she’d asked him to share things with her first and shit, he wanted to.
He pulled back, his breathing out of control and ragged. “What else?” he asked

hoarsely. “What else did you want to know about me?”

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes like quicksilver. She looked at him a second, then

abruptly stepped away.

But not to leave. Instead she reached behind herself and he heard the sound of a

zipper being drawn down, the shimmering fabric slipping from her shoulders and off,
pooling at her feet.

His breath caught. She wore silver lace underneath, a bra that hid nothing and a pair

of panties he could see the red curls between her thighs through. She didn’t seem to care
about the windows right next to her, where anyone could see in.

But she didn’t stop there. She unclipped her bra, then pushed her panties down,

stepping out of them, wearing only a pair of high-heeled silver sandals.

He couldn’t stop looking at her because it was the first time he’d seen her naked,

though he’d imagined it over the past two days. Imagined it in every possible way. Yet
the reality was so much more than his imaginings.

Pale, creamy skin. Pink-tipped breasts. The most beautiful curves he’d ever seen.
She came close, her breasts brushing his chest. “I want to know everything about you,

Van. Every single thing. But what I’d really like first is for you to fuck me.”

The breath went out of him, his body hardening. Christ, he should know by now that

she never did what he expected.

He put his hands on her hips, spinning her slowly around and up against the dark

glass of the windows. She shivered as her back hit it but she didn’t pull away. Only stared
up at him, a flash of silver underneath red-tinged lashes.

Yearning surged inside him, crashing through him like a wave breaking against stone,

coming from someplace inside him he hadn’t known was there.

He’d never expected to tell anyone about himself. Lay out all his shitty past to a

woman and have her look up at him like that, with desire in her eyes. And he wanted that
so badly he couldn’t speak.

So he didn’t. He bent down and kissed her again. A hungry, raw, unpracticed kiss.

Because he didn’t want to seduce her or charm her. Or deflect. He wanted to show her
who he was and who he was, was desperate. Who he was cared.

Need filled him, sharp and vicious, and he embraced it. The kiss became deeper,

hotter. He shoved her harder against the window, pinning her there with his body,
wanting all of her pressed against all of him. Her bare skin brushed against his neck as
she wound her arms around him, kissing him back as hungrily as he was kissing her.

Not enough. He needed to be naked, to have her skin against his.
He lifted his head, untangled her from him. “Stay there,” he said hoarsely as she

opened her mouth to protest. Then he stepped back and pulled his T-shirt off over his
head, undoing his jeans and shoving them down, along with his boxers.

Her eyes glittered in the light, watching him, and he loved the hunger in them. It had

been a long time since he’d gotten fully naked with someone. Since he’d had more than
dirty fumbles in dark corners and in cars. Since he’d been skin on skin with someone. And
he wanted it with every last breath in him.

In among the tangle of clothes, he found his wallet and extracted the condom from it,

protecting himself with ruthless efficiency. Then he moved back to her and all at once
something struck him.

He didn’t want to take her against the window where everyone could see. This was a

deeply private, personal moment. And it was just between the two of them.

Donovan reached for her, lifting her into his arms and taking her over to the couch.
“You don’t like the window?” she asked, her arms around his neck. “Because I was

fine with it.”

“No. Tonight is ours. And I want it to stay ours.”
He laid her down on the leather, covered her with his body, her soft curves fitting

perfectly against him. Kissed her lips, her neck, pressing his mouth in the hollow of her
throat, licking the fast beat of her pulse. Then moving further down, cupping one full
breast in his palm, circling her nipple with his tongue.

She groaned softly, arching beneath him, her fingers tangled in his hair.
But he didn’t want soft sounds. She was here in his apartment, where they had

complete and utter privacy, and he wanted to hear her.

Donovan used his teeth, biting her nipple, hearing her soft cry, her body shuddering.

He licked the hard tip, soothing it. “Tell me you like it, sweetheart,” he murmured against
her skin. “I want to know.” Then he bit her again.

“Oh, God, Van,” she gasped, shivering. “I … like it.”
“How much?” He drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.
She gave another groan. “So much … God … so good …”
He licked her, a lazy teasing circle of his tongue. “How good?”
Victoria unwound one of her hands from his hair, took one of his, and shoved it

between her thighs. “This good.”

And it must have been very good indeed because she was wet against his fingers,

slick and hot and ready for him. He stroked her gently and she moaned, her hips lifting in
response.

The feel of her, the sounds she made, the scent of sex and flowers in the air around

them was too much. He couldn’t wait.

Donovan slid an arm beneath her, spreading his hand in the small of her back, lifting

her hips. Then he pushed into her, hard and deep.

She gasped, her legs closing around his hips, arching beneath him. Her hands drifted

down his back, nails digging in, applying delicious pressure.

He raised himself on his forearms, looking down into her face. Into her eyes. They

weren’t silver any more but dark charcoal, smoky with desire. And he got the feeling he
was staring into the heart of her, the essence of who she was. Passionate and sensual,
warm and giving.

He’d never looked into the eyes of a lover before. Only with her.
And he found he couldn’t look away now. The desperation began to fade, to be

replaced by something else he couldn’t identify. Something deeper.

He moved, another thrust, her body so tight around him, he almost shook. Her hands

stroked his back, another scrape of her nails, her face alight with pleasure. “More …,” she
whispered.

He bent his head, kissed her, tasting sweetness, tasting Victoria. No one else knew

this about her. No one else knew how sweet she was. How hot. How tight and wet she
got. How giving she was. How passionate she could be.

His movements became slower. He wanted to keep doing this, keep moving inside

her, keeping the secret of her his and his alone.

“Van …” Her voice soft in his ear, her breath on his skin. “That feels … so good.”

Pleasure uncurled inside him, the pleasure of doing something that made her feel

good. The need to keep doing it, not for himself but for her, because he cared. He cared
so much. He moved his mouth to her jaw, her neck, kissing her, tasting the salty
sweetness of her skin, keeping his movements slow.

He had so many skills in the bedroom, long years of practice, but he’d never

considered it anything to be proud of. Nothing about that period in his life made him
proud.

Yet now he was glad of it because it meant he could give her all the pleasure she

deserved. All the satisfaction.

Donovan slid his hands beneath her, tilting her hips, allowing him to slide even

deeper. She gave another moan, her head tipping back against the leather of the couch,
her throat a pale curve beneath him. He kissed her, moving faster now. Harder.

“Oh … God …” Victoria panted.
Her nails sunk into the muscles of his back, the sensual pain of it making his own

pleasure coil so tightly he could hardly stand it. But he held onto his control. Kept it firmly
in his grasp as he slid a hand between her thighs, brushed her clit with his thumb as he
gave one, hard thrust.

She cried out, convulsing around him, her nails digging in hard, her body arching.
And as he watched the climax light up her face, he finally let himself go. Giving

himself up to the pleasure, moving hard and fast until his own climax shot up his spine.
He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the sweetness of her as he closed his eyes and let
it take him.

Victoria lay on the sofa, pinned by the weight of Donovan’s body. She didn’t want to

move. Perhaps not ever. So she didn’t, contenting herself with letting her hands stroke his
back instead, feeling the gentle flex and release of his muscles as he breathed.

After a long time, he finally shifted, his mouth brushing her neck, making her shiver.

“Wait there,” he murmured. “I need to deal with the condom. I won’t be long.”

He moved off her and disappeared through the doorway.
Perhaps she should get dressed? She glanced over to where her gown lay on the floor,

along with her underwear, but didn’t feel any inclination to put it on. No, all she felt was a
kind of lazy, sensual satiation. Like a cat enjoying the sun.

She rolled onto her side and her gaze fell to the coffee table, scattered with bits of

paper, including some building plans. Curious, she sat up and took a closer look.

They were plans for the docklands estate, marked and scribbled on with calculations

involving sums of money, initial expenditures, and profit projections. On other bits of
paper were sketches of buildings, gleaming glass curves and angles. One of a park and a
high-end-looking shopping strip. Another, of all things, looked like a museum.

She blinked. These were Donovan’s.
At that moment, something soft was draped around her, a blanket. She looked up as

Donovan came to sit beside her. “I thought you might be cold.”

“Very thoughtful.” She pulled the soft material around her. “What’s this?”
“What’s what?”

She gestured to the coffee table. “These plans. Looks like they’re for the docklands.”
He lifted a hand, ran his fingers through his black hair, a guarded look on his face.

“Yeah. Just a few ideas I was playing around with. Nothing major.”

“Oh, come on. I thought we were over the ‘it doesn’t matter’ stuff?”
Blue eyes met hers. “And I thought we weren’t going to talk business.”
“Technically we’re not talking business. We’re talking about your ideas.” She smiled.

“Show me, Van. I’d really like to see.”

Slowly, he smiled. A natural, almost boyish smile. “Okay. Wait there and I’ll get some

wine.”

They discussed it for hours. Over wine and some delicious little things he brought out

from the kitchen: cheeses and grapes and antipasto.

His vision for the area was incredible, a sensitive melding of the past with the present.

An  acknowledgement  of  the  land’s  dark  history  yet  with  a  positive  emphasis  on  the
future.  On  moving  forward.  She  loved  the  concept,  even  sharing  with  him  her  own
thoughts,  and  soon  the  plans  were  a  mess  of  scribbles  and  sketches,  papers  with
calculations  scattered  all  around  them,  an  exciting  project,  bigger  and  better  than
anything  either  of  them  could  have  imagined  by  themselves  taking  shape  in  front  of
them.

“I don’t understand why your brother won’t listen to you,” she said, sipping her wine.

“Selling the land won’t make the past go away.”

Donovan finished the note he’d been scribbling then sat back. “He’s like Dad, he

thinks everyone will forget if it’s swept under the carpet.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”
A hard look crossed his features. “I have a meeting with him tomorrow. And I’m

intending to make it clear he’s going to sell that land over my dead body.”

It was an uncomfortable reminder of what they’d both purposefully put out of their

minds for the night. That land and each of them with their own, very good reasons for
wanting it.

God, she’d loved tossing around ideas with him but he was right to keep business out

of this. This night was about them, not the land deal.

Victoria put down her wine, shrugged the blanket off her shoulders, and took the pen

out of his hand. Then she crawled over and sat in his lap. “Let’s talk about something
else,” she said, running her fingers over his bare chest. “I can think of a few topics.”

The hard look disappeared, flames lighting in his eyes. “And I can think of a few better

uses for that mouth of yours than talking.”

Hours later, still naked and utterly comfortable with it, Victoria lay back on the couch

in his arms, pleasantly drunk from the wine, not to mention from him.

“You know, I think I was right,” she said, looking at the stuffed-full bookshelves all

around his apartment. “You probably do sit around reading Tolstoy all day.”

He must have remembered their first encounter in the elevator because he laughed.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’d prefer a cheap thriller any day.”

“Oh, sure. You and your set of first edition Hemingway’s. Don’t think I didn’t see them

sitting on that shelf over there.”

Gently he tugged her head back, his fingers coiled in her hair. Gave her a long,

lingering kiss. “I have a very old and expensive copy of the Kama Sutra, too,” he
murmured against her mouth. “Care to have a read?”

“What? Again? Anyway, I don’t need to. You probably memorized the whole thing.”
“Almost. And practiced it, too.”
“I bet. Is there anything you haven’t done?”
“I haven’t done you. In a bed.”
“No. You haven’t.” She let her fingers slide over the hot skin of his chest, feeling the

shift of his muscles beneath her touch, hearing the catch of his breath. Watching the burn
of desire in his eyes. Her effect on him … “So what’s stopping you now?”

Nothing as it turned out.
Donovan’s bedroom was dark and cool, the bed large, the sheets white and soft

against her skin. Yet even those things fell away when he touched her. And soon there
was nothing at all but pleasure.

She woke sometime after six a.m., his arms locked around her, and even though

they’d spent the majority of the previous night making love, she couldn’t recall another
time when she’d woken feeling so good.

Yawning, she stretched and twisted in his arms, looking up to find him watching her.
He didn’t say anything, only smiled, and her heart contracted inside her chest because

it was that warm smile, full of heat and sensuality and genuine pleasure. The one that
came from the heart of him, not the empty playboy smile.

And hard on the heels of that weird tightness came another feeling. A sense of loss.
Their one night was over. Soon she’d have to leave.
He must have seen something in her eyes because he frowned, reaching out and

pushing a lock of hair back behind her ear in a casual, tender gesture that tightened the
feeling in her chest even more. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Crap. You know. She let out a silent breath. “I felt … sad for a

moment. I don’t want this to be over.”

His fingers brushed her ear then trailed down the side of her neck. “Maybe it doesn’t

have to be.”

Her heart gave a ridiculous leap. “You want us to keep seeing each other?”
“Sure,” he said easily. “Why not? There’s nothing to stop us, is there?”
She looked away. There wasn’t exactly nothing. There was the deal, for a start.
It’s not about the deal though, is it?
No, it wasn’t. It was about the fact that she was in danger of falling for him.
Victoria stared at the tanned skin of Donovan’s torso, all hard cut muscle, lean and

strong. He was as beautiful under his clothes as he was with them on.

You’re not in danger of falling. You’ve already fallen.
She felt cold and exposed all of a sudden. Like her skin had been peeled away,

leaving all the nerve endings raw.

It was too late, wasn’t it? She had fallen for him. And where did that leave her? They

hadn’t agreed on anything more than a night. Caring wasn’t a part of the deal and neither
was love. But, God, maybe she wanted it to be.

“Victoria?” he murmured, a finger beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “What do

you think? Another few nights? More?”

“How much more?” she asked carefully. She had to know where she stood before she

committed herself to anything. Because she had a horrible feeling he probably didn’t feel
the same way. And if he didn’t … But no, she wasn’t going to think that, not yet.

His smile deepened. “I don’t know. Perhaps until we’re both sick of each other?”
A sharp sliver of disappointment cut through her. He doesn’t feel it … “And how long

will that take do you think?”

“Does there have to be a time limit?”
“Well, with you there usually is, isn’t there?” It came out sharper than she’d intended.
He touched her mouth with his thumb, caressing her lower lip gently, frowning.

“Something’s wrong? What is it?”

She forced a smile. “No, of course not.”
“Hey, isn’t that my line?”
“It’s fine, Donovan.”
“Bullshit it is. And since when did I go from being Van back to being Donovan?” His

fingers closed around her chin, holding her. “You don’t want more? Is that it?”

She couldn’t look at him, focusing on the white pillow behind his head. “Actually, I

don’t think more is a good idea.”

His frown deepened. “Why not?”
“Oh … a number of things. I mean, we haven’t even resolved what’s happening with

the deal for a start.”

His gaze searched hers, too sharp, too perceptive. “This isn’t about the deal. What’s

going on, Victoria?”

She wanted to look away but he was holding her chin now, keeping her gaze on his.

And the very last thing she wanted to do was tell him the truth. But he wouldn’t leave
this alone, and she knew it.

“I don’t want another couple of nights,” she said hoarsely. “I want more than that.”
The crease between his brows didn’t budge. “And I told you I’m fine with that. We can

keep doing this until—”

“Until what?” A shiver went through her, a weird kind of tremble. “Until we’re sick of

each other, you said. Well, what if I never want to stop doing this? What if I never get
sick of you?”

He blinked, as if she’d slapped him. “What are you saying?”
“What do you think I’m saying? I’ve … fallen for you, Van.”
All the color drained from his face. Then abruptly he looked away, an expression

flickering in his eyes she didn’t understand. Releasing her, he then untangled himself from
around her, sliding off the bed, and going over to where his jeans lay on the ground,
picking them up.

Victoria gripped the sheet, cold from the loss of his warmth creeping over her skin,

and another kind of cold creeping through her heart.

“That was never part of our deal,” he said, jerking his jeans up over his hips.
Of course he didn’t want her. Of course he didn’t feel the same.

Her heart felt like he’d given it a sharp, hard kick.
Why? Did you expect something different? No one ever wants you. No one.
She turned away, sliding to the edge of the bed, struggling to keep all expression off

her face. “No, I know it wasn’t.”

Donovan stood near the end of the bed, jeans sitting low on his lean hips. He didn’t

look angry. He looked furious. “So why tell me?”

“Why? I thought we were being honest with each other. But I guess that wasn’t what

you wanted.”

“No, you’re damn right, that’s not what I wanted.” He thrust his hands in the pockets

of his jeans, blue eyes burning. “I’m not the man for you, Victoria. And I never will be.”

She slid off the bed, wrapping the sheet around her, knowing she could walk away.

Turn around and never come back. But she’d never let him get away with anything before
and she wasn’t going to start now.

“And why can’t you be the man for me, Van?” She walked over to where he stood,

getting up close. “Give me one good reason.”

“Because I don’t want to be.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “How’s that for a reason?”
“Not good enough. You invited me into your home, you told me about your past. You

don’t say those things to women you don’t care about it.”

“What would you know about what I care about?”
“You care about that land. And you care about those plans. And art and books and—”
“Stop,” he said in a hard voice. “We’re not having this discussion. What we’re having is

more sex because I have a meeting to get to at nine and I haven’t finished with you yet.”

“Don’t do this.” She stepped even closer to him. Lifted a hand to cup his cheek, the

warmth of his skin beneath her palm. “Don’t try to distance yourself from me. I know
you’re doing it to protect yourself.”

He jerked his head away from her touch. “You don’t know anything.”
She let her hand fall. “I know one thing. I know I’m in love with you.”

Chapter 9

He didn’t want it. Not the words, not the soft look in her eyes, not the feel of her

hand. It was too dangerous, too threatening. If she touched him, if he let her, he’d
shatter and he couldn’t afford to shatter. Because she was lying.

She couldn’t love him, not after the things he’d done. The men he’d lied to, the

women he’d screwed. All the people he’d manipulated over the long stretch of his so-
called illustrious career. Sure, he was the face of Morrow, but no one knew the dirtiness
behind that face.

No one knew the stains he had on his soul.
“You can’t be in love with me,” he said flatly. “It’s just good sex, that’s all it is.”
“That’s not all it is and you know it, Donovan.”
She stood so close, naked and warm, the sheet still wrapped around her gorgeous

curves, her hair in a glorious red fall down her back. And he wanted her so much it hurt.

But he couldn’t have her. He couldn’t take what she was offering. “You’re fooling

yourself, darling.” He put as much carelessness as he could in his tone. “A couple of good
orgasms don’t mean love, you understand that, don’t you?”

Her gaze seemed to see through him, sharp as a laser beam through clouds. “And why

am I fooling myself? Why can’t I be in love with you?”

“A washed up playboy and ex-manwhore? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
. “That’s not who you are, Donovan.”
“Isn’t it? What else am I then?”
Victoria closed the distance between them, reaching for him, and he let her, steeling

himself. Telling himself it didn’t matter. Her hands cupped his face and her touch made
him want to fall to his knees in front of her. But he didn’t, he only stared at her as she
said, “You’re the man I saw last night. Passionate, intense. Thoughtful. Kind. Protective.
A good man. A man who feels deeply about things, who thinks about things. You care,
Donovan.”

Fuck, he wanted to believe her. Wanted to so much. Wanted to be the man she saw,

the man he was with her, and not the man he wasn’t. But he couldn’t let himself. Love
was never given to you like that, never handed on a plate to you without you having to
do something for it first. And if turned out that she was lying after all … He would break.
Completely.

Which meant he had to get her out of here once and for all.
“You think you know me, darling?” he said softly. “You don’t.” He took her wrists and

pulled her hands away from his face. “That man you saw last night, he doesn’t exist. He’s
an act.”

Something flared in her eyes. Pain. “No, he wasn’t.”
Donovan made himself laugh. “Yes, he was. He’s not real. I just gave you what you

wanted to see. That’s how I get women into bed. And it works. I mean, it worked with
you.”

She was staring at him, searching his face, searching for something that wasn’t there.
He smiled, ignoring the way something seemed to break inside him, and reached out,

gripping her hips and pulling her to him. “Look all you want, princess. That man you’re
after isn’t there. This is the kind of man I really am. Now, are you going to get rid of that
sheet so we can keep fucking or are you going to stand there whining about love for the
next ten minutes?”

Anguish flashed across her face, so sharp it seemed to cut him in two. “Maybe you’re

right,” she said softly. “Maybe this is the kind of man you are.” She took another breath.
“A coward.”

He took the hit because shit, she was right. He laughed to cover the fact that despite

his best intentions, she’d ended up shattering him anyway. “Damn straight, princess. Now
get into bed.”

And like he hoped, she pulled away. Violently. “No, I don’t think I will, thank you very

much.”

He let her go, watching her as she went to the bedroom door and pulled it open.

“Good-bye, Mr. Morrow,” she said in a voice empty of any expression at all. “Thank you
for last night. It was … interesting.”

Then without a backward glance she went out.
Donovan didn’t follow her. He waited until the front door of his apartment slammed

shut, then he picked up the alarm clock from the side of his bed, ripped the cord from the
wall, and flung it against the mirrored doors of his closet with all his strength.

The doors shattered, leaving shards of glass glittering on the carpet.
Jesus, he felt as broken as those doors, the shards of himself as sharp as that glass.
Restlessly he moved, going out of the bedroom and stalking down the hallway to the

lounge. He didn’t have time to stand around thinking about her and what had happened.
He had a meeting with Jax, and his brother was going to fucking listen. That land was his
and it was going to stay his.

Yet when he got to the lounge he had to stop and take a breath, because there were

reminders of Victoria everywhere. Naked on his couch, red hair spilling everywhere.
Standing near the windows, her eyes full of sympathy as he’d told her about his father.
Arguing with him as they discussed his plans. Laughing as he teased her about her love of
cozy mystery stories.

He’d invited her into his personal space and now she’d left the indelible mark of her

presence.

Fuck. He was probably going to have to move.
Trying to ignore the feeling, he went over to the coffee table where the plans were

still laid out. The plans covered with his scribbling. And Victoria’s.

And he stopped, his gut aching, his chest tight.
Those plans. That land. His recompense for all the shit he’d had to do. His birthright.
Your salvation.
He took a breath, staring at them. And he knew with blinding clarity that yes, that’s

what he’d wanted them for. He’d hoped they would save him. That once he had them, he
wouldn’t feel so used. So dirty. That he was worth something.

But they wouldn’t. Because they wouldn’t make him feel the way Victoria made him

feel.

You’re passionate and intense. Protective and kind. A good man …
The man he was with her.
A man she loved.
He sat down on the couch, ran his hands through his hair. They were shaking but he

didn’t even notice.

Love was a lie, or so he’d always told himself. But … what if it wasn’t? What if he

trusted her enough to believe her? Christ, he wanted to. Wanted to with every breath in
his body. But he was terribly afraid the man she loved wasn’t real. That he didn’t exist.

The fear made his mouth go dry. He hadn’t felt this way since the day he’d told Patrick

he was leaving the company. And Patrick hadn’t tried to convince him to stay, only let
him go. Like a tool he no longer had any use for. Making Donovan realize that everything
he’d ever done for his father didn’t matter. That his father didn’t care. His father didn’t
give a shit about him.

He swallowed, heart thumping in his chest. Could he risk that kind of rejection again?

And why was the thought of it coming from her so terrifying?

You know why. For the same reason you sent her away.
Because he loved her. Because he could take a rejection from anyone else but he

couldn’t take it from her.

His gaze dropped to the plans on the table once more. Plans that incorporated a

terrible past with an accepting present, allowing both to move toward a bright future …

And all at once he knew exactly what to do.

“What’s this?” Jax eyed the folder Donovan had thrown on his desk.
“It’s a folder. What does it look like?”
Jax frowned and flicked it open, scanning the document inside. “Jesus, Van,” he said.

“I thought you said the De Winters were coming in with a better offer.”

“You wanted it sold so I sold it.”
His brother leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t think you wanted to sell?”
“I changed my mind.”
“Sure, you did.”
Donovan looked him in the eye. “I want you to shut up, Jax. I want you to shut up and

listen to me for once in your goddamned life.”

Jax stared at him, blue eyes in narrow slits. “Okay then,” he said at last. “Get it off

your chest whatever it is.”

Donovan folded his arms. “You didn’t know what I did for Dad, did you? Before I left

Morrow?”

“Weren’t you starting the PR stuff for him?”
“No,” he said flatly. “I wasn’t. I was his spy. And sometimes that involved sleeping

with people in return for corporate secrets.”

Jax blinked. “What? Holy shit, Van, I didn’t—”
“Know? Of course you didn’t. He never told anyone and neither did I. It was my and

Dad’s little secret. And I kept that secret, kept doing his dirty work, because I was
desperate to fit in. To get his respect. To be a real Morrow, like you and Sean.”

There was shock on his brother’s face. “What the hell are you talking about? You are a

real Morrow.”

“No, I’m not. I’m not the hard man like you. Or the tough outsider like Sean. I was the

kid who toed the line. Who wanted to please people. Who read lots of books and got
good grades, the damn teacher’s pet.”

Jax frowned. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Tell Dad that.”
“Van—”
“I haven’t finished.” He took a breath. “I didn’t want to sell the land because I wanted

something back for all the shit I went through for this family. You had the company so I
wanted something for myself. Deep down, I was hoping that land would save me, make
me feel better about what I did for Dad. But it won’t. The land is just land and it won’t
make me feel anything, which means I don’t need it anymore.” He nodded toward the
folder sitting on the desk. “I’ve added a caveat. The sale is conditional on Victoria de
Winter’s plans being used.”

His brother’s jaw tightened. “Really? Any special reason?”
“Because she’s my salvation. She’s the reason I don’t need it anymore.”
For a minute his brother just stared at him. “Jesus. You’re in love?”
“Yeah, Jax. I’m in love. She’s intelligent, perceptive, and talented as hell. And I know

she’ll do right by the land.”

“That was … fast.”
“Says the man who got engaged to a woman he’d only known a week.”
“Van—”
“Still haven’t finished.” Donovan threw down the second folder he’d been holding. “I

found Sean.”

There was open shock on his brother’s face. “Fuck, you did?”
“It’s all there in black and white.”
“But—”
“I’d love to stay and chat, really I would but”—he looked down at his Rolex and

checked the time—“I have a princess to court.” He turned and went to the office door,
pausing just once to look back at his brother. “Oh, and Jax? Bring him home.”

Cameron de Winter looked positively gleeful. “I’ll forget about your broken

engagement now that this has come through. Looks like I made the right decision to trust
you to handle this, Victoria. This is going to be incredibly lucrative for us, you realize that,
don’t you? This is going to get us out of the red for good.”

Victoria stood in front of her father’s desk, her hands clasped. Not listening as he

talked on and on. Mainly because all she could hear was Donovan’s deep voice in her ear
as he’d delivered the good news: the deal was hers.

It should have been a moment of triumph. But triumph was the last thing she’d felt.

He didn’t mention their abortive night together. He didn’t say anything personal

whatsoever. He might as well have been a stranger.

It was like a knife sliding into her.
“This has been a long time coming,” Cameron said, smiling. “But I think you’ve finally

earned yourself a place in the boardroom.”

That man doesn’t exist.
He was lying, of course he was lying. He was protecting himself as he did so well. But

what more could she do? She’d laid herself bare to him, told him she loved him and he’d
pushed her away.

There was nothing more she could do.
“Well, Victoria?” Her father raised his eyebrows. “What do you think?”
“Great,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic because this was the culmination of her

dreams. A triumphant success. A place in the boardroom and her father’s approval. What
more could she ask for?

Your father’s love. Without having to ask for it or do anything for it. Just because

you’re you.

“You could be a little more keen on the idea,” Cameron said. “I thought this was what

you wanted.”

“It is. Of course it is.”
“Well then.”
She swallowed. “You had an awful lot of … tasks for me to fulfill.”
“Everyone has to earn their way to the top, Victoria. I can’t just hand it out on a

platter.”

“You were going to for Marc.”
Her father’s jaw tightened. “Your brother’s different.”
“Why?” She should never have asked these questions, but now she was going down

this road, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “How is he different?”

“Because he’s …”
“Because he’s your blood, isn’t he?” She took a breath. “And I’m not.”
Cameron frowned. “It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it? I worked my butt off for you, Dad. For years. Harder than Marc. Harder than

anyone in this damn company, trying to pass all the tests you kept throwing at me. But
it’s not me you really want, is it?”

Her father glowered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Victoria.”
“You never really wanted me, did you?”
A red flush crept over his cheeks. “Some things you’re born into. And some you have

to earn.”

Ah, so, finally. An acknowledgement. “So I have to earn your love because I wasn’t

born your daughter?”

“It’s not that simple.”
She stared at him. “Yes, it is. You never really loved me. I was only ever a favor you

did for Mom.”

His expression closed up. He reached out and began shuffling papers around on his

desk. “I think this conversation is over, Victoria.”

She’d always thought hearing the truth would be the end of the world. But for some

reason it didn’t feel like that. It felt like a beginning. She didn’t need his approval, she’d
never needed his approval.

She wasn’t a de Winter. No, she was more than that.
Victoria let out a long, silent breath. “Dad. I’m sorry, but you’ll have my resignation on

your desk by this time tomorrow.”

“What?”
She didn’t reply, turning and heading for the door.
“Victoria! Don’t you dare walk away from me.”
She kept on walking, throwing open the door and striding out into the waiting area

near his office.

And stopped dead.
A tall, extraordinarily handsome man was standing by the windows, watching her.
“Donovan?”
He came toward her, blue-green eyes intent, and she inhaled sharply. Because he

didn’t stop, not even when he was close. He just reached out and pulled her into his
arms. One hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head back, then he bent and covered her
mouth with his.

For a second her brain blanked in shock. Then the heat of him rushed through her,

warming up everything that had frozen the moment she’d left his apartment, and
helplessly she opened her mouth, kissing him back as hungrily as he was kissing her.

Hours, or possibly seconds later, he lifted his head, his expression so fierce it locked

all her questions in her throat. “I’m sorry,” he said huskily. “I’m sorry for everything that I
said to you this morning. I’m sorry for everything that I did. But most of all I’m sorry for
letting you walk out that door.”

She put her hands on his chest, holding herself away a little. “I don’t understand.

What are you doing here?”

“I’m here because I love you.”
Her heart seemed to still inside her chest. “But I thought—”
“I was wrong, Victoria. Turns out you were right, I was a coward. I’ve never had

anyone just come out and say they loved me and I didn’t want to believe that it was true.
I was afraid to trust it.” He searched her face. “Because I was afraid that the man you
said you loved didn’t exist.”

Her throat closed up. “Donovan …”
“But then I realized something.” He lifted his hands, cupped her face between his

palms. “I realized that even if that man didn’t exist, I wanted to be him. I wanted to be
the  man  you  told  me  I  was.  The  man  you  loved.  And  I  wanted  that  more  than  I  ever
thought  possible.”  His  thumbs  caressed  her  cheek.  “You  gave  me  a  taste  of  something
real,  gave  me  something  to  care  about  and  …  I  want  it.”  He  took  a  shaky-sounding
breath. “You asked for love and I want to be the man who gives it to you because God
knows, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

The breath escaped her entirely, her throat thick with emotion. Stupidly all she could

think about was his phone call earlier, the one ceding her the deal, where he’d sounded

so impersonal. “But on the phone today—”

“I had a roomful of people. I had to sound professional.”
“And the deal?”
He smiled and it wasn’t empty or meaningless. “I don’t need it anymore.”
“Why not? I thought that was your birthright?”
“I thought it was, too. But it’s not going to make me feel better about what I did for

Dad. It’s not going to fill the holes in my soul.” He paused and a hint of uncertainty, of
vulnerability crept into his eyes. “Only you can do that. If you’ll have me.”

“What the hell is going on?” Her father’s voice came from behind her. “Morrow? What

are you doing here?”f Donovan didn’t look at her father. He only looked at her.

She blinked back the tears in her eyes. Her heart felt full, aching in her chest.
If she went with Donovan now she would be turning her back on her father. Because

he would never forgive her for being with a Morrow. She could kiss good-bye her career
at De Winter forever.

Is that even a choice?
No. Of course it wasn’t.
She didn’t turn around. . “You damn idiot. Of course I’ll have you. I think I’ve been in

love with you since I kissed you in the elevator.”

Green flared in his gaze, brilliant as emeralds.
“Victoria?” her father demanded. “What’s going on?”
Donovan strode forward and before she could protest, he’d picked her up into his

arms. “What does it look like?” he said as he turned toward the elevators. “I’m staging a
hostile takeover.”

Victoria put her head against his chest, warmth flooding through her.
“Victoria,” her father bellowed. “Don’t think you can come back here!”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not going to.”
The elevator pinged, the doors opened, and Donovan stepped into it. The doors

closed, shutting out the sounds of her father’s shouts.

Slowly, Donovan set her back on her feet. But he didn’t release her, his hands holding

her hips tightly. “I probably shouldn’t have done that in front of your father. But I have to
tell you, I’m not sorry.”

“I’m not sorry, either.” She reached up, touched his mouth. “I just handed in my

resignation. I’m no longer a De Winter employee.”

“Oh … princess. Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my entire life.” She rose on her tiptoes,

pressed a kiss to his beautiful mouth. “I want passion, Van. I want love. I want
acceptance. And I’ve finally realized I won’t get those things from him.”

“I’ll give you those things. I’ll give you everything.”
“I know.” She wound her arms around his neck. “I love you.”
One arm tightened around her waist as he leaned forward to hit the stop button on

the elevator. “And I love you. In fact, I could even give you a demonstration right here if
you want.”

Her heart began to race. “What is it about you and elevators? I was hoping for more

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jackie Coates

Jackie has been writing fiction since she was eleven years old. Mild mannered

fantasy/SF/pseudo-literary writer by day, obsessive romance writer by night, she used to
balance her writing with the more serious job of librarianship until a chance meeting with
another romance writer prompted her to throw off the shackles of her day job and devote
herself to the true love of her heart— writing romance.

She lives in Auckland, New Zealand with her husband, the inimitable Dr. Jax, two kids,

two cats, and some guppies (possibly dead guppies by the time you read this).

You

can

find

Jackie

www.jackieashenden.com

Facebook

www.facebook.com/jackieashenden

or follow her on Twitter at

@JackieAshenden

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