Storm: A Billionaire Opposites Attract, Enemies to Lovers Romance (Jazz Sessions Trilogy Book 3)

Chapter 1

Zephyr

”Grace,” I groaned against her nipple, two of my fingers sheathed inside her tight pussy.

Her breath became ragged, and her hips shifted against me.

She was on the desk in the office at Jazz Sessions. I had slid her black pencil skirt up, and her slender thighs clasped around my flanks. I had her shirt unbuttoned, and her lacy skin-colored bra was a major turn-on. I was a lingerie guy. I preferred a sexily clothed woman to fully naked.

Her fingers in my hair were urging me to suckle her again. She had sensitive breasts, and I fucking loved that.

”Come, baby, I want to feel you.” I wasn”t a selfish lover. I loved women. I loved how they tasted and smelled, and I loved fucking them. I was all about getting them off—and right now, with prissy Miss Annalee Grace, I wanted to see her unravel.

”Ah,” she moaned, her hips moving against my fingers.

I suckled a nipple and bit hard. Her hips almost jumped off the desk. And she unraveled most beautifully.

”Zephyr,” she called out, her breath hitched.

”Yeah, just like that. Fuck, you feel good, so fucking good. You”re like a little tempest when you let go, aren”t you? Let me…fuck.” She continued to clench hard around my fingers, and I was ready to plunge inside her. My free hand was on the zipper of my jeans when the office door opened.

”Oh, for fuck”s sake, Z,” my brother, Blaze, barked. ”Hi, Grace.”

”Shit.” Grace hid her face in my neck.

”Nice. Your sister”s celebrating her wedding, and you”re….”

”Do you have a reason to be here?” I asked, still pumping my fingers in and out of her, feeling her shivers, the aftershocks.

”Yeah. Our mother is missing, according to Henri, so get your tight ass out. Sorry for disturbing y”all. Be seein” you, Grace.”

As soon as the door closed, Grace pushed me away, her brown face dewy and flushed. ”Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

I brought my fingers to my mouth, and as I watched her, I licked them clean. Her mouth opened in a gasp, and she stared, mesmerized.

”Your pussy tastes like heaven, Little Tempest.”

”My name is Grace,” she snapped.

She used to be Annalee Chauvin when I knew her in high school, when I was a stupid sixteen-year-old moron. I”d been a dick, telling some guys that I shouldn”t have that Annalee”s friend, Sheryl, gave good head. That led to Sheryl getting the nickname Good Head. Sheryl”s then best friend, Annalee, gave me a piece of her mind and kneed me in the nuts. I apologized to Sheryl. I never got the chance to with Annalee because she left N”awlins and came back recently as an Assistant District Attorney with a vengeance against me and the Doucet family.

But during the Governor”s Masquerade Ball a few days before Mardi Gras, we had a moment, and it blew my mind. So had the moments we”d just had in the small office of my jazz bar, Jazz Sessions.

”You can”t talk to me like that.” Her beautiful honey-colored eyes were wide. Her fingers trembled as she tried to button her blouse.

”Shh. Let me.” I buttoned her blouse, pulled her skirt down, and pushed her hair off her face, smoothening it. She had beautiful dark hair, glossy like she was in a hair product commercial. ”You”re beautiful.”

Her lips trembled. ”This is so unprofessional.”

”Ah, cher, we”re just celebrating Gaia and Rome”s wedding, and we got a bit frisky. These things happen in the Big Easy.” I brushed my lips against hers.

”I”m not into you,” she declared.

”Okay.”

”I hate your type.”

I raised an eyebrow. ”My type?”

”Yes, you have more money than God, and you think you can do whatever you want.”

It wouldn”t do to burst out laughing. Little Miss Grace Carta was a complete tight-ass, and I was going to love loosening her up and going balls-deep inside her. Okay, so not the right thing to think about when my brother had just told me that our mother, Camille Doucet, was missing, right after she”d cryptically told my brother she needed help and had information about the shitshow that was my family right now.

”I don”t have more money than God. I think Blaze has more money. Rome has more money. I”m just a simple jazz bar owner, cher.”

She narrowed her eyes. ”Right, and I”m the Queen of Mardi Gras.”

I winked at her. ”You sure are royalty material, ADA Carta, with the tightest pussy I”ve stuck my hands in a long time.”

The look on her face was a mix of embarrassment and rage. So, maybe it was not my best idea to rile her up, but she looked so fucking adorable when she was angry that I couldn”t resist.

She put her hands on her hips and glared at me. ”You stick your fingers in a whole lot of pussies, don”t you, Zephyr Doucet?”

”Guilty as charged, darlin”.”

She shook her head. ”What did your brother mean when he said your mother”s gone missing?”

”Let”s go and find out…or…do you want to finish what we started? Cause I”m still hard.” Fuck, but she looked cute when she was furious.

”You haven”t changed, have you? Are you going to tell everyone how I”m good at sucking dick now?”

I didn”t like her saying that. That was a half a lifetime ago. She still saw me as a teenage douchebag, and honestly, I didn”t know if I wanted to change her mind. I didn”t like prissy women, I reminded myself. So, she stirred me up some, but this drama wasn”t worth it. Right?

”Darlin”, when you suck my cock, and you do it real good, I”ll think about it.” I opened the door of my office and walked out.

Fucking Annalise Grace Chauvin…Carta, whatever the fuck her name was, had just managed to piss me off in a way that I didn”t normally allow.

I was still frowning when I came into the bar. Most people had cleared out. It was nearly three in the morning.

Rome Decuir was at a table with Gaia, my sister and his brand new wife, on his lap. I loved seeing her happy. I loved seeing my friend happy.

Detective Nichola ”Nick” Renault, Blaze”s fiancée, and her partner, Detective Ash Steele, were at the bar. Dr. Gabriel ”Gabe” Santana, an old family friend who”d sewn up both Gaia and Blaze in the past few months for gunshot wounds, stood on the other side of the bar, pouring himself a drink.

Henri Allard, the Doucet family lawyer, and all-around fixer, sat at a table with Blaze and Miss Matty Benedict. Miss Matty used to be my grandfather Lucien Doucet”s assistant and was now Rome”s as he was CEO and President of Bayou Belle Holdings, the Doucet family business.

Grandpère had shaken the family and the parish on his death when he”d left his share of the business to Rome, who was not a Doucet by blood. He was my uncle”s bastard son. The uncle who married my father”s sister,

a Doucet.

I had felt surprised and pleased when we”d first found out about the will. I trusted Rome, but now, as time had passed, it became evident that Grandpère had an ulterior motive. He knew that BBH was being used to launder money for the Russian mafia, and he”d basically dumped the shitshow at Rome”s feet, who had done a remarkable job so far. He”d divested all the suspect businesses, and even the Feds had closed their inquiry after my step-father had been murdered and his partner in crime, the former CFO of BBH, had confessed and gone to Club Fed for his sins.

I really thought that the whole mess was behind us, but then my mother called Blaze earlier in the day and threw a curveball. She needed security because her life was in danger, and she told Blaze that if he took care of her, she”d tell him who killed our grandfather. Talk about a shock to the system because Grandpère had been sick for a long time, but we never assumed someone had hurried him to the grave. No one had. Maybe Camille was lying. Our mother was a manipulative bitch—or she was telling the truth.

I felt Grace come up behind me.

”Hey, cher.” I put a hand on the small of her back and led her to Blaze.

”ADA Carta.” Henri stood up and held out his hand. She shook it, looking sheepish. I introduced her to Matty. It was three in the morning, and we were all a bit drunk and punchy; however, we were keeping our Southern manners.

”Grace, you want a drink?” Nick called out. ”Gabe here is making his version of a mimosa.”

”Because it”s morning,” Gabe explained.

”What”s so special about your mimosa?” I asked.

”I mix champagne” — Gabe poured some champagne into a glass — ”and add orange wine to it.” He followed his words with actions and then took a sip. ”Perfect.”

”I personally think mimosas are fine as long as you hold the orange juice and use a good Blanc de Blanc,” Grace announced primly.

”I think we have some bottles of Ruinart. Would you like a glass?” I asked testily.

”No, thank you,” she muttered.

”Then what the fuck were you trying to say?”

”I was just making conversation and…forget it, I should go home.”

Nick strolled up to us, and Blaze pulled her down to sit on his lap. A month ago, she”d have wriggled; now she settled in. Her jacket moved a little, and I saw her badge and gun. She was a good detective, both she and Ash. They”d killed the hired assassin who tried to take out Blaze and who had killed my cousin, Yves. Yeah, so the Doucets were not having a good year. We were droppin” like mosquitoes after a swamp fogging.

”So, what”s this about Camille being missin”?” I asked the table in general.

Before long, Rome and Gaia smushed themselves in around the small table, and even Gabe joined us. He was an old friend and confidante. I looked at Blaze, who shrugged, indicating he was fine with Gabe being here for the conversation. We trusted him, but he didn”t know the ins and outs of the crazy that was the Doucet family these days. Fucking hitmen, assassins, Russian mafia, Feds, money laundering…I missed the good old days when it was simple with illegitimate children, sexual assault, forced abortions, and venereal diseases.

”Camille mentioned that Lucien was—”

”Blaze?” I looked at Grace pointedly.

”It”s fine.” Blaze waved a hand. ”Between my future fuckin” wife who”s law enforcement and Z”s new lover, considering what I saw happening in the office—”

”God!” Gaia groaned. ”If you fucked on my desk, I expect you to clean that with Lysol.”

”We didn”t fuck,” I said helpfully, enjoying how Grace was hyperventilating, ”I didn”t even eat—”

”Shut up,” she said furiously. ”Oh, Lord!”

Blaze grinned. ”Sorry, cher, didn”t know you were so…ah…what”s it called, Spice?”

Nick elbowed him. ”Stop hazing the poor woman, sha. Grace, don”t pay attention to these couillons. Gaia…cut it out.”

”I”m sorry, Grace,” Gaia said, amused, ”but seriously, Z, Lysol.”

Henri cleared his throat. ”Y”all done? So, we can move onto the serious fucking topic about your mother being missing?”

Henri was in his early sixties, by my approximation, and had been a part of the Doucet family for a long while. He moved to Boston when he married a Southern Belle and, even though he”d now lived in New Orleans for nearly two decades, kept his Boston accent. His ”your” sounded like ”yah.”

”What am I missing?” Grace looked around at all of us.

”Yeah, I”m not catching any of this, but that could be because I”m fuckin” drunk, and I think your bartender, Dylan, may have given me some gummies,” Dr. Santana announced. He got up and stretched. ”I”m gonna smell y”all later.”

”Gabe,” I said. ”You don”t have to leave.” It was our way of letting him know that he was a friend.

Gabe grinned. ”I know, cher, but some of us have the night shift later today. Let”s hope none of you Doucets get shot, yeah?”

”Should I go as well?” Grace asked.

I put a hand on her thigh. ”I think you can help us.”

She was about to say something when I squeezed her thigh, and she saw the sincerity in my eyes and nodded.

”So, apparently, Camille believes that Lucien was murdered, and she asked me for security in return for that information,” Blaze told all of us.

Grace gasped. ”Lucien Doucet was murdered?”

”No clue. No one did an autopsy cause he had cancer, and he was dyin”,” I explained.

”We probably need to exhume and do an autopsy,” Henri said on a long-suffering sigh.

Miss Matty pursed her lips. ”Can we trust what Camille says?””We”ve got to check it out, Miss Matty,” Blaze said apologetically. Miss Matty had worked with our grandfather for three decades. They were close, and I suspected lovers, but who knew? It wasn”t like I gave a damn who was doing whom in my family.

Grace licked her lips. ”I can arrange that with the ME”s office.”

”Thanks, Grace.” I didn”t remove my hand from her thigh. I liked it there.