Chapter 13
Penelope
Christian Tempest.
A powerbroker.
A player.
A highly intelligent, sophisticated businessman.
He’d been called many things within the hospitality industry.
He was also a man not to be questioned, ruthless in every endeavor. Now a question lingered in my mind. Should I consider him a true predator?
A tingle of excitement swept through me, a delicate balance of believing he’d been stalking me over the last three weeks and wondering if I was losing my mind.
The painting should reinforce that I was correct, although the events weeks before had included the auction. Plus, his demeanor and candid answers should negate me thinking he was running around in the shadows taking pictures of me or invading my private space.
Besides, the scent wasn’t the same as what I’d been certain had lingered inside my home, tonight’s aftershave more dangerous in a way not easy to explain.
As I’d mentioned, I knew him by name and by reputation. In the world of hospitality, everyone knew his name, but more important, the Tempest brand. As CEO and president of Tempest International, he was considered not only one of the wealthiest men in the world, but also the most reclusive.
Just like the painter.
Plus, if the stories I’d heard from former coworkers were true, the man was as merciless as they came.
I’d also known Tempest had always been considered the top of the hierarchy of hospitality Covington had longed to achieve.
If I were a lesser person, I would share all the sordid secrets Covington held so dearly.
Ha. What little I knew wouldn’t mean anything to such a powerful man like Christian.
While I hadn’t bothered to search for photographs on the internet as there’d been no need, I’d heard coworkers talking about his arrogance and how much he coveted his privacy.
I certainly couldn’t blame him.
Even if his net worth was a fraction of what I’d heard, he had every right to be cautious around anyone other than those he trusted implicitly.
What I did imagine was that he was used to people falling at his feet in hopes of scooping up crumbs. Men. Women. Hell, animals probably flocked to his side in hopes of gleaning even a hint of his greatness.
If I had to guess, I’d say he was one of the most hated men in the hospitality and real estate industries, but also one of the most feared.
And why? Because also from what I’d heard, whatever goal he set his sights on, he achieved.
Which was why I was curious as to his reasons for gravitating toward me.
Was he that interested or was I simply a sweet morsel to be enjoyed and tossed aside?
Was I some case study for him? Ordinarily, and especially after allowing my guard to fall with Carrington, I wouldn’t dare allow myself to share a drink with a pompous, self-serving man.
Had I not experienced several meet-cutes that had been so extraordinarily out of the ordinary. He certainly could have cursed me out after I’d splashed hot coffee on him, demanding I pay for his dry cleaning or even worse, that I be tossed from the hotel.
He could have done one of two things when I’d tried to break into his room. Refuse to let me go or have me arrested.
Instead of acting as if I was some crazy chick, he’d purposely found me in my own world of romance, which was far removed from his. Did that offer him an automatic pass? Of course not. However, that didn’t mean I couldn’t hold all the cards and be the one to toss him aside.
After a little kissing and touching.
And perhaps more.
“C.T.,” I said as he guided me from the ballroom.
“I’m sorry?” Christian asked. The fact he had his hand on the small of my back was strangely comforting as well as possessive. But I had a feeling he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to me.
“You’re very clever.”
“How so?”
Why did I feel so comfortable with him? Because I’d scarred his arm?
“You also had flowers and baskets of food and wine sent to my hotel suite. The San Diego property was your hotel. Of course.” I refused to look at him since my face was likely flushing a lovely shade of crimson. This time because he’d obviously heard how I’d berated one of his employees.
Oops. Although not that I’d done anything wrong or regretted doing so.
“I felt it only fair given the way my people discounted the convention’s contract.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t the one who’d set it up. I was merely the woman determined not to allow anyone to ignore what was right there in black and white. I know all the tricks.”
We were now standing in front of the elevators, his presence behind me more overpowering than before. I turned around to face him, curious as to what he’d have to say.
He leaned in, his shoulder brushing mine, and suddenly the entire room narrowed down to the space he occupied.
I could smell the sharp, clean scent of his cologne mixed with the heat of his skin.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm, and I found myself holding my breath, entirely hyper-aware of the inches, or rather, the lack of them separating us.
“That may be true, but you were the only person with both the knowledge and the fortitude to challenge the hotel’s pushback. Very few people would have the chutzpa to do so.”
“Your pushback?”
His smile was an admittance, which I promptly huffed at in response.
“I don’t like people getting the shaft.”
When he leaned even closer, I held my breath. His eyes never leaving mine, he pressed the elevator button. “And I assure you that in no way is that how I allow my business to be handled.”
“So the dance was just another attempt at keeping me quiet?”
My question caught him completely off guard, the surprise registering in his eyes. Whereas I had a feeling almost nothing kept him from a quick comeback, my question had done so easily. With a slight, very dark chuckle, he hesitated, perhaps waiting until we were all alone.
With the elevator doors opening, I lifted a single eyebrow in a further challenge before backing in and moving against the far wall.
He stepped just inside, not bothering to look before pressing a floor button or asking me where my room was located. I had a feeling we weren’t heading to my suite, which was fine. I certainly didn’t want any interruptions or for any of my friends to figure out I’d spent salacious time with a man.
But he didn’t stay where he was, taking his time walking closer as the doors closed behind us, leaving us all alone. His shadow fell over me, swallowing up the space between us. My breath hitched. Every single nerve ending was suddenly screaming, hyper-aware of the heat radiating off his skin.
And of just how handsome he was in his charcoal suit and crisp white shirt.
“Were you under the impression I was threatening you with our dance?”
“No, but with a man who doesn’t like to lose, I could imagine anything. Flowers. Expensive champagne. A painting worth a fortune.”
He exhaled, lifting his arm ever so slowly. When he pinched my chin between his thumb and forefinger, I was even more breathless. Inches. Just inches left. His gaze dropped to my lips. My pulse hammered in my throat, drowning out every crazy thought in my mind.
“I’ll let you in on another secret, Penelope. I never threaten a beautiful woman.” He was controlled with his actions, allowing me the opportunity to push him away. Although I wondered if he’d ever had a woman do so.
While a small part of me wanted to do just that for no other reason than to experience his reaction, far more of me wanted something else entire.
Another kiss, only not one based on intoxication or whimsy, but because the desire had roared between us once again. Even the crackle of electricity I’d felt had a heavier load, far more disruptive and enticing.
My gaze locked onto his, watching the dark, consuming shift in his seductive gray eyes.
When his gaze flickered down to my lips, my breath hitched entirely.
It was a delicious kind of torture, that fraction of a second where time seemed to stretch, knowing exactly what was coming and being completely powerless and unwilling to stop it.
“You don’t?” I managed, for what reason I didn’t know. When I dared press my hand against his chest, the heat became even more explosive, leaving my fingertips aching.
“Never. Women are to be revered and treated like the queens they deserve to be. I can’t lie about the fact that after our initial, very different meeting I was very curious as to who you were.”
“I bet.”
“I’m serious.”
I tilted my head until there were millimeters of space between our mouths. I’d never felt so attracted to a man, the desire tossing aside any suggestion this was wrong.
Or that he was only using me.
Maybe I should think just the opposite.
I was using him.
Then the agonizing wait broke. As his lips finally brushed against mine, the tension snapped, replaced by a rush of heat that went straight to my core. Every thought evaporated, leaving only the intoxicating feel of him.
The crazy need for him.
His grip on my chin shifted, his hand finding my jaw while his thumb danced across the surface of my skin. All while he gently parted my lips, taking his time, perhaps in another moment of allowing me to know I had full control.
But did I?
And more important, did I want to?
He kissed me with the sharp edge of liquid courage. The taste of the scotch was dark and rich on his mouth, a heady mix of barley and fire. It was a thrilling, unapologetic flavor that left me completely breathless and craving another sip.
But even more, I longed to feel the explosive heat of his body pressed against mine.
Within seconds, the initial tenderness had faded, leaving a more intense longing that screamed of wanting more. His tongue danced against mine, the moment so powerful I was drawn into a sweet web so passionate I couldn’t breathe.