Choosing Stella (The Network #2)

Chapter One

The penthouse door clicked shut behind me, and Antonio Bellacorte smiled like a man who’d already decided how this would end.

He was wrong.

I slipped off one black heel and left it beside the marble bar.

His eyes dropped to my bare foot, then came back to my face.

“Starting already?”

“You booked the chase.”

“I did.”

“So chase me.”

I kicked off the second heel and ran.

The muted throb of the casino lived somewhere far below us, buried under forty floors of steel, glass, and money. Up here, the penthouse was all thick carpet, low amber light, polished marble, and expensive furniture arranged with enough open space for what Antonio liked.

It suited me too, when I was the one choosing it.

I cut around the back of the sectional, black dress riding high on my thighs.

Antonio came after me without hurrying. That was part of the game.

He knew the limits. I knew the exits. The bedroom was in bounds.

The balcony wasn’t. No restraints tonight.

No bruises above the neckline. If I said stop, everything stopped.

The rules made the fear delicious.

It wasn’t real fear, and it never crossed that line.

This was the kind I could turn on and off.

I glanced over my shoulder.

Antonio had shed his jacket. His dark hair was silvered at the temples, his white shirt open at the throat, and his lean body moved with the easy confidence of a man accustomed to getting what he paid for.

I grinned and darted toward the bedroom.

His hand caught the back of my dress before I made it.

The fabric pulled tight across my breasts.

I laughed, twisted free, and slapped his hand away.

“Too slow.”

His smile sharpened.

“That sounded like a challenge.”

“It was.”

I backed away from him, pulse jumping as I gave him room to try again.

Antonio advanced.

I let him get close enough that his fingers brushed my waist, then ducked under his arm and ran for the bedroom. This time he followed fast.

My bare feet hit the thick carpet. The open bedroom doorway waited six steps away.

Five.

Four.

Antonio caught me around the waist.

A startled laugh burst out of me as he lifted me clear off the floor.

“Got you.”

“You caught me. That isn’t the same thing.”

“No?”

I twisted in his arms, forcing him to adjust his hold. He put me back on my feet as our rules required. I shoved against his chest and almost slipped free.

I nearly made it.

His hand closed around my wrist.

My breath caught.

Antonio paused.

He didn’t need to ask the question out loud.

I held his gaze and pulled once against his grip.

“Keep going.”

He turned me and pressed me against the wall beside the bedroom door.

The cold surface touched my shoulders through the thin fabric of my dress. Antonio’s body crowded mine without pinning my legs. I could still move. I could still kick, twist, fight, stop.

Instead I smiled.

“Better.”

“You’re difficult to please.”

“That’s why you keep booking me.”

He laughed against my neck.

I shoved him again.

He caught both my wrists this time and brought them above my head. Heat spread low through me, sharp and welcome. I pushed my hips back against him, deliberately testing his restraint.

Antonio swore softly.

“That wasn’t very sporting.”

“I’m not here to be sporting.”

“No. You’re definitely not.”

He released my wrists and reached for the zipper at the back of my dress.

I turned before he could touch it.

“My turn.”

Antonio stopped.

I dragged the zipper down myself.

I slipped the dress from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Black lace covered enough to count as lingerie and not enough to hide why he’d paid for the evening.

I stepped backward into the bedroom.

“Come on, Antonio.”

He followed.

The chase was over.

What came after the chase was simpler.

He kissed me, and I let myself enjoy that too. Antonio was good at following a script once the terms were clear. His hands stayed where they were welcome. Mine opened his shirt, then his belt, taking what I wanted instead of waiting for him to decide the pace.

When his fingers slid beneath my panties, I widened my stance.

“More.”

He gave me more.

Pleasure built quickly, familiar enough that I didn’t have to think about it. I rocked against his hand until my breath broke, then caught his wrist before he could take me over the edge.

Antonio raised an eyebrow.

“Changing the rules?”

“Changing the timing.”

I pushed him toward the bed.

He went willingly.

A condom packet waited on the nightstand beside a glass carafe of water, where it was supposed to be. I picked it up and tossed it onto his chest.

“You know what to do.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I laughed.

“Don’t ruin it.”

He tore the packet open.

By the time he rolled the condom on, I’d stripped off the rest of the lace and climbed over him.

Antonio reached for my hips.

I caught his hands and put them flat against the mattress.

“My turn,” I reminded him.

His smile came back.

I lowered myself onto his cock.

The stretch pulled a moan out of me. I planted my palms against his chest and moved, slow at first, then harder when the pressure sharpened into what I wanted.

Antonio’s hands stayed where I’d put them until I nodded.

Then they closed around my hips.

I rode him until sweat cooled along my spine and my thighs started to burn. He sat up, mouth at my breast, and I changed the angle until the friction hit my clit with every downward stroke.

“Right there.”

Antonio held me tighter.

I came hard enough to lose the rhythm for several seconds.

He didn’t.

By the time I could move properly again, he was close. I leaned down, kissed him once, and gave him the pace he wanted until his grip tightened and he groaned my name against my shoulder.

Then it was done.

Antonio dropped back against the pillows.

“You’re going to kill me one of these days.”

I slid off him and reached for the water.

“Don’t put that in a review. Locke hates dramatic feedback.”

Antonio laughed while I handed him the glass.

“I thought Mr. Stonebridge appreciated honesty.”

“He appreciates clients who understand the difference between honesty and making his blood pressure worse.”

“I’ve never met a man less impressed by money.”

“That’s probably why people with money trust him.”

I poured a second glass for myself.

My reflection appeared in the dark window beyond the bed. My raven-black bob framed my pale face, blunt bangs slightly crooked from Antonio’s hands, with the natural white streak bright near my temple. My dark eye makeup had survived better than expected.

My lipstick hadn’t survived at all.

Antonio sat up and disposed of the condom before reaching for his trousers.

“You still have another hour.”

“I know.”

“I assume you brought the cards.”

I stopped with the glass halfway to my mouth.

I lowered it.

“You were serious about the reading?”

“I don’t generally pay for things I don’t want.”

“That isn’t what you usually pay me for.”

“No.” He fastened his trousers and reached for his shirt. “Tonight I wanted both.”

Our previous bookings had been at Sanctum, where the rooms were designed for the kind of game we’d just played. This penthouse was new. So was the tarot request.

I set down my glass.

“What do you want to know?”

Antonio smiled.

“If I tell you, won’t that influence the cards?”

“Tarot isn’t a carnival trick. You can ask a question.”

“But your reputation says you sometimes see more than the cards.”

There it was.

I got up and crossed to where my dress lay near the bedroom door.

“My reputation says a lot of things.”

“Is that a denial?”

“It’s me telling you to let me get dressed before you start interrogating the psychic.”

His mouth curved.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“Several thousand dollars says you like me just fine.”

“That too.”

I pulled it back on and gathered the black lace from the bedroom floor.

Back in the main room, I tucked the lace into the slim black bag I’d left near the bar and left my shoes where they were for the moment.

Antonio led me to a round table near the floor-to-ceiling windows that had already been cleared.

The empty tabletop told me he’d planned this before I arrived.

I took my tarot deck from the bag and sat across from him.

Antonio poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter.

“Want one?”

“No. Water’s fine.”

He slid the carafe closer.

Below us, The Exchange Casino glowed along the riverfront, its warm gold light reflected in the black water beyond the glass.

The Riverside District spread around it in wet pavement, marina lights, and dark building silhouettes.

October cold pressed against the windows even though the penthouse stayed comfortably warm.

I set the deck between my hands.

“What’s the question?”

Antonio leaned back.

“What should I be watching for?”

“That’s broad.”

“So is my life.”

“I can tell.”

His eyes narrowed with amusement.

“Is that judgment?”

“It’s square footage.”

He laughed.

I shuffled.

Cards slid against one another with the soft, dry whisper I’d known for years.

Most readings were exactly what they appeared to be: cards, symbols, patterns, and a person across from me bringing half the answer before I turned over the first one.

Sometimes there was more.

I didn’t decide when.

I cut the deck and gave it to Antonio.

“Three piles. Then put them back together however you want.”

He did.

I drew the first card.

The Tower.

Antonio leaned forward.

“Well. That seems cheerful.”

“It rarely means a quiet week.”

I turned the next card.

Five of Swords.

The pressure started behind my right eye.

It wasn’t pain yet, just a warning.

I drew the third.

Three of Pentacles, reversed.

My fingertips went cold.

Antonio watched my face instead of the spread.

“What?”

I focused on the cards.

The room seemed to tighten around the small pool of amber light above the table.

The Tower pointed to conflict, a structure failing from inside.

The Three of Pentacles reversed suggested people who were supposed to be building together pulling in different directions.

The Five of Swords warned of a victory that cost too much.

I swallowed against the first hint of nausea.

“You asked what you should watch for.”

“Yes.”