Chapter 24
Ididn’t understand what had just happened.
Lucian Manwarring caught me in his office.
He had proof I was trying to get into his computer, and there was no way that he believed the lies that I had made up on the fly. My excuses had sounded lame to my own ears.
The look he had given me told me he knew I was lying.
It wasn’t the first time I had lied to him.
It wasn’t the first time I had disobeyed him, and every single time that I had done that, he had punished me in ways that left me aching and confused. This time, I wasn’t aching, and confusion wasn’t the only thing that I was feeling.
I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Satisfied for one, but somehow not. My body was still aching for something else. I just didn’t know what, or I didn’t want to tell myself what I still needed.
Of course, I knew what some men liked their women to do.
The notion of a blow job was not foreign to me, although I had never done it. I had heard the maids giggling about one of them doing it to somebody and how it was scandalous. I, of course, knew that men expected oral sex from their partners.
It was one of the easiest ways to keep them happy. Even the girls at boarding school had talked endlessly about different tips and tricks they’d learned from reading salacious magazines.
It always seemed like an unfortunate, disgusting chore that women were occasionally forced to do. Maybe not wives, unless it was their husband’s birthday or they had bought a particularly lovely piece of jewelry, but girlfriends, mistresses, and not too long ago, probably secretaries.
What I didn’t understand was that no one ever mentioned how good it felt, how it messed with your head and made the giver’s body sensitive and filled with this addictive, buzzing sensation.
Those magazines also never said how getting on your knees for a man looked subservient and should have been submissive, but there was a strange kind of control with the act itself.
Even when he’d grabbed my hair and thrust into my throat, I’d still controlled how deep he could go. I still controlled how much pleasure he got from his actions.
I controlled how tight or loose I held my lips, how wet and how firmly I rubbed my tongue along his shaft. There was nothing he could do to force any of that. That was on me.
What I really hadn’t understood was when he put his mouth on me. The women had never talked about that. I hadn’t thought men did that type of thing.
That alone was a completely new sensation that my brain didn’t have time to understand fully before I was overwhelmed with pleasure and massive explosions going on behind my eyes. The lack of oxygen from my only occasional breaths made me light-headed and seemed to intensify the entire experience.
Lucian had licked me and tasted my skin in the most private, personal places, and I wanted him to do it again.
I gave myself until I got back into my room to let my mind try to understand and absorb what had happened. There were so many feelings rushing through my body and so many hormones flooding my brain that I was having a really hard time making sense of it all.
It wasn’t until I got back into the room and into the ensuite bathroom that I remembered the papers that were still against my back, held in place by the waistband of my skirt.
If he had removed a single piece of clothing completely, I would have been caught. But he hadn’t, so I took them out and tried to look them over, sure that I might have something of value.
Lucian knowing how to confuse my mind and play my body like an instrument, didn’t make him less dangerous.
It made it so much worse. Nothing had changed, and I still needed to get out. Having him in prison was still the easiest way to do that.
I looked over the papers I’d stolen, trying to understand what they were, and I realized they were completely useless.
There was nothing but numbers on the page. There was no key, no column headings, and nothing that told me what I was looking at or gave any context to the data. This could show money being bounced between hundreds of foreign accounts for tax evasion, payouts to organized crime, or the earnings report from McDonald’s last quarter.
There was absolutely no way for me or anyone to know.
Maybe I could go back, look in the same place I’d found this, and find the first pages that would hopefully give some context to what I was seeing.
In the meantime, I stuck the pages between the mattress and the box spring, pushing them as far back as I could so the maids wouldn’t accidentally brush them when changing the bottom sheet.
I heard a noise outside the door, and I wasn’t sure if it was Lucian coming up to change or his evil butler coming to check on me. Either way, standing in the middle of the room smelling like sex and looking disheveled was not how either of them was going to find me.
As quickly as I could, I scampered into the ensuite bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as possible.
There may not have been a way for me to go back in time and erase what happened and how it made me feel, but maybe I could singe the memory from my skin.
The water was scalding, and it felt amazing.
With each pass of the loofah, I tried to forget what he had done to me, how he made me feel, and how much I wanted him to do it again.
Instead, I tried to replace the feeling of his mouth on me with that of my fingers. Maybe if I could bring myself to orgasm, I could erase the memory of the way his mouth had sucked at me, the way his tongue felt on my delicate folds, and how unbelievably and sensually intense the entire experience was—from feeling his weight pressing down on top of me, light-headed because his cock was blocking my airway, to even the slightly salty masculine flavor that had filled my senses.
I needed to erase all of it.
It didn’t work, and I ended up coming apart in the shower with his name silently painted on my lips.
Getting out of the shower, I dried myself off as quickly as I could and made myself presentable.
I’d never been to a polo game, but I assumed it was the same for any outdoor posh sporting event.
A floral printed sundress in a pretty baby blue that would hug my curves just right. I used to love dresses like this. They were always so pretty and feminine. They looked modest, with their longer skirts hitting just below my knees and higher sweetheart necklines, but the thin fabric floated over my curves, and when the light hit it just right, you could see my silhouette through the material. They were what I called innocent and sexy.
Dresses like these used to be my favorite part of spring, but now they just left me freezing. But my comfort was hardly a concern for Lucian.
I put on the dress and paired it with strappy heels, a fabulous hat my mother bought me last year, vintage Chanel, so it would never be out of style, and then grabbed a matching cardigan to provide a pale attempt at fending off the cold that had come over me.
I stepped out of the large walk-in closet just in time to see Lucian coming out of his closet.
It was the first time I had seen him when he wasn’t wearing head to toe black. Instead, he was wearing a blue blazer over a crisp white button-down shirt and cream linen slacks.
He looked like a man half his age and yet still just as powerful.
My admiration for his attire was cut short when he dropped a large duffel bag just in front of his penny loafers. I didn’t know what was in the bag, but I did know it couldn’t be anything good. He wouldn’t have anything good in a duffel bag. It just wasn’t who he was.
Men like him carried briefcases. Expensive leather and brass used to carry essential documents, files, and laptops. Duffle bags were for something different altogether.
“You look acceptable,” he said, looking me up and down. Even his eyes left a trail of warmth over my chilled skin.
“Acceptance was exactly what I was going for.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up just a little.
I would have missed it if I hadn’t been looking so closely.
I had no idea why I was looking so closely. I pushed that aside as he motioned for me to follow him.
I expected to go out the front door, but instead, he took me to a back hallway that I hadn’t been to before and pressed a button for an elevator. I said nothing as I stepped in, my hands folded in front of me, clenching the leather handles of my powder blue Kelly bag.
When the doors opened, we were on the roof, and a helicopter was waiting for us. Its blades were already spinning, sending gusts of wind to tousle my hair.
“Come on,” Lucian said, grabbing my arm. I used my other hand to hold my hat to my head, and we both ducked down under the blades to get in. “Have you ever been in a helicopter before?”
I shook my head, knowing that if I said anything, there was no way he was going to hear me.
He nodded and put a large headset over my head, holding my hat in place as we took off.
The pilot checked in with us once before lifting off and taking us over to New York City.
I had seen videos of other people in helicopters.
I’d even seen clips from YouTube of New York City from drones. They didn’t compare to actually being above the city flying over it.
Yes, I had traveled all over the world, but New York City was my world, and to see it in all of its gleaming glittering glory from a thousand feet in the air was spectacular.
However, that still didn’t take my mind off of whatever could be in that duffel bag. I thought back to every movie I had ever seen and every book that had mentioned duffle bags.
Nothing good was ever in them.
I had seen everything from guns, to heads, to piles of money.
Soon, the gleaming steel towers and crowded roads gave way to lush green fields, and we touched down in front of a sign that said NY Polo Club.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Patterson, New York. Driving here would take over an hour, and frankly, I don’t have the time,” he said, grabbing the duffel bag and dragging me through the open grass fields to several large white tents.
“Stella, you’re here,” a high-pitched feminine voice called.
I turned just in time to see Charlotte before she threw her arms around me and pulled me into a hug. She smelled of sweet floral perfume and mint.
“I’m here,” I said, still not 100% sure what the hell I was doing there.
“Did you bring the equipment?” Luc said to his father, his arm firmly around Amelia.
Lucian gave his son the bag, and immediately Luc dropped it to the ground and opened it up.
I held my breath.
Inside were several different helmets, knee pads, and what looked like a few polo sticks. Or were they called mallets? I had no idea, but I was extremely relieved there wasn’t a single stack of bound cash, firearms, or a severed head in the bag. At least not that I could see.
I released the tense breath I had been holding.
“Stella,” Lucian snapped harshly, making me think he may have said my name a few times.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Stay here with Charlotte and Amelia.”
“Of course,” I said, giving him a pleasant smile. I didn’t mean it, but it was what was expected of me.
Luc and Lucian walked off, and I couldn’t help but realize how similar they looked. Both were tall with broad shoulders, and they were both incredibly handsome. Lucian looked more like Luc’s older brother than his father.
“Have you ever been to a polo match before?” Amelia asked.
“No, I haven’t.”
The three of us walked arm in arm back to the white tents where Charlotte’s husband was sitting, looking extremely uncomfortable. He looked quite dashing in his suit, but although it was tailored perfectly to his body, it did not fit him at all.
“Well,” Charlotte said, “let me introduce you to the best part of watching Luc and his father battle it out with other men on horseback.”
“What’s that?”
“The bottomless cocktails,” they both said with bright smiles, and I noticed for the first time that Charlotte’s eyes were not as focused as they should have been.
We took a seat at one of the benches, and almost immediately, a waiter wearing a white tux came over to our table with what looked like fresh mint juleps for Amelia and Charlotte.
“She’ll have the same,” Amelia said. Then she leaned towards me. “Trust us, they’re the signature cocktail here. I don’t know what they put in them, but I’m pretty sure it’s illegal.”
“If not, it should be,” Charlotte agreed.
“They use your family’s bourbon,” Reid said, rolling his eyes and sitting back, his arm slung casually over his wife’s shoulder. It was adorable, but he still looked so uncomfortable.
“That explains why they are just so good.”
“So, does your father like to coach the team or something?” I asked, trying to figure out exactly what was going on.
“No,” Charlotte answered. “Well, he’s the captain of the team. Luc is chomping at the bit to take over, but I don’t think Father is going to let that happen for several more years.”
“It annoys Luc to no end that your father can still outplay men half his age,” Amelia said, laughing before taking another long sip from her drink. “But Lucian is the captain of the team and the owner.”
“He owns the team so he can be captain. That seems a little heavy-handed.”
“No,” Charlotte said, scrunching her nose as her eyes drifted up. “Father earned his place as captain years before he bought the team. The previous owner was talking about buying cheaper horses, like Kentucky Derby rejects or something, and said they would be just as good with some steroids or something, and Father wouldn’t hear of it. He said he wouldn’t destroy the sanctity of the game like that. So he bought the team and makes sure everyone has the best equipment and mounts money can buy.”
“Really?” So he didn’t mind playing by the rules when it was a game, but with my life, he would bribe judges and break as many laws as he needed to.
“Yep, the next step is to get this one out there.” She patted Reid’s arm.
“I don’t play polo. I can rope a calf, but I refuse to get on a horse just to hit a little ball with a big hammer.”
Amelia and Charlotte both teased him about life on the ranch and how now he was a big boy and could do big boy sports.
His response of football was met with more jeers and laughter.
I had to wonder, was this what my life would have been like if I’d had siblings?
The good-natured teasing and poking fun at each other while also knowing they would always have your back.
I envied Amelia and Charlotte. They had both grown up with older brothers who loved and protected them, and sisters who were like their best friends. Seeing them like this—so easily accepting of spouses into their circles and the relationship they had with their siblings extended to those spouses so easily, just to make their family larger—it almost hurt.
There was nothing quite like the joy and peace of others to make you realize exactly how alone you were in the world.
I was lost in my own thoughts, not really paying attention to what the others were saying, when I saw Lucian lead his team onto the field.
And it struck me again how unbelievably handsome he was.
He was sitting on top of his mount in polo attire, ready to do battle.
The look on his face was nothing short of fire and intensity.
This wasn’t a game to him.
It was a war.
He sat on his horse in front of his men ready to lead them into battle like a true king.