9. Noelle
NOELLE
The dance with Edward turned out more intimate than I ever allowed myself to imagine. He looked lost in my eyes, and the way his hand gripped my body sent a violent sequence of shivers down my spine. For a moment, I’d actually forgotten that Graham would be here. Of course he is. He’s on the board.
What I couldn’t have predicted was him causing a scene. Or maybe I was just so engrossed in the man holding me that my ex had simply faded from my memory.
He looks awestruck, but I’m the one who’s stunned.
He cleans up better than any man has a right to.
The grey suit is a masterpiece of tailoring, and the hat is a lethal touch, framing his square face and that razor-sharp jawline.
As I hang from his six-foot-three frame, looking up into those piercing grey eyes, I wonder why the hell I never noticed him before.
Love really does blind you to the world.
Graham’s intrusion has drawn more attention than I can stomach. I want to be anywhere but here, but Edward looks completely unbothered by his brother’s presence. Not me, though. I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
“It’s called dancing, Graham.” Edward eyes him coolly, then switches his gaze to the watching crowd, offering a placating smile. “Weren't you just dancing with Ms. Kline?”
I scan the ballroom. Sure enough, Vanessa is standing among the vultures in a yellow dress, a black fascinator shadowing her face. She’s staring daggers at me. The absolute balls on Graham to play the part of the jealous lover when he’s here with the snake he left me for.
“Let’s go,” I mutter, tugging at his arm.
He starts to follow, but Graham isn't a man who takes a hint.
“Noelle, come back here! I didn't give you permission to leave.”
A chorus of gasps ripples through the room. The mask of the Whitmore golden boy is slipping, and the board is watching it happen in real-time.
“Thaddeus, bring your son to heel this instant!” a woman's voice carries from the crowd.
“Get off my back, Beatrice,” I spot a disgruntled Thaddeus Whitmore in a blue suit. “He's his own man.”
Edward stops, turns around, and draws closer to his brother. Then, he whispers something directly against Graham's ear, which makes the latter turn toward the crowd, spotting his father glowering and the bespectacled Beatrice baring her teeth.
“This is not over.” Graham waves a finger in Edward's face.
“Whatever, little bro.” Edward smirks and turns back to me, offering his arm. It’s a deliberate, infuriating gesture that sends Graham retreating into the crowd as the band starts up again.
“This isn't my place.”
I’m hanging from Edward’s arm on the curb where the limousine deposited us in front of his home. We take in the two-story property that looks more like a suburban family’s dream than a billionaire CEO’s.
“No shit. It’s mine,” he says.
“Are we on the right property?”
Edward chuckles. “Why? Because it’s not a penthouse in the sky?”
“Maybe.” I manage a grin. “But also, why am I here? I should be getting dropped off at Yaddie’s.”
“I’ve just had an idea, and I’d like us to workshop it.”
“Lead the way.” I gesture and follow him in.
The decor is Nordic noir, with minimal furnishing that screams of quiet luxury. Every piece looks specially curated for a man with expensive tastes. I drop into a settee that feels as plush as it looks, while Edward moves to fix us a drink from the living room bar.
“So, that was crazy,” I say when he returns, handing me a glass of scotch.
“What part?” He snickers, dropping down beside me.
“You wanted that to happen, didn't you?” I frown, setting my drink on the wood and resin coffee table. “I told you I'm not interested in that game. I don't need Graham to think there's anything between us.”
He undoes the button of his suit jacket. “I didn't plan for that, Noelle. It wasn't scripted. But it was the best-case scenario.”
“Best case?” I throw my hands up. “Get a load of this guy!”
“Graham just lost his shit in front of the shareholders and his new girlfriend over his ex-girlfriend and former VP. He’s going to be under a lot of heat now.”
“So?”
“So, he’s more likely to slip up. And that makes our job easier.”
I exhale, leaning back into the cushions. “Isn't that going too far? He’s still your brother.”
Edward captures my hand. His finger runs slowly over my knuckles, a steady, rhythmic heat.
“There’s no love lost between us, but I don't wish him ill. But if it turns out he’s been stealing from the company our father struggled to build, that’s unforgivable.
And maybe—just maybe—it’ll finally shatter the illusion that he’s a golden child. ”
“So this is really about a grudge you’ve carried since you were kids?” I pull my hand away, looking at him with a flare of concern.
He exhales, setting his drink down. “Perhaps some part of it is.”
“I will not be an instrument for your vendetta, Edward.”
He groans and rubs his temples. “If I wanted a vendetta, I could have had it years ago. I’m not framing him. If he’s innocent, he’s off the hook. If he’s not, well…”
“Well, what? You're not going to hurt him, are you?”
“I’ll be handing him over to the authorities myself, Noelle. I’m not a monster.”
“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”
He cocks a brow. “What—you don't believe me now?”
“Can you blame me? Your family is the reason I may no longer have a career.”
“I could give you a reason to believe?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right.”
Big mistake.
It happens suddenly. His hand cups my face and pulls me into a kiss.
I freeze in horror, my eyes wide, the taste of scotch on his breath hitting me.
But the real horror is how my body betrays me.
My lips are already kissing him back. My skin is tingling under his touch.
My eyes slam shut and I hope for the worst—that I’ll hate it and he’ll pull away.
But I don’t. My hands find his neck, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape.
We kiss until we are breathless, tongues slipping in and out of mouths, teeth nipping at lips, moans muffled by even more kisses. When we finally break for air, we just stare at each other. The line has been crossed; there’s no point stopping now.
Edward’s hands find my waist and pull me toward him. I oblige, sitting astride him. Our lips meet again, slow and knowing this time. He pulls away to kiss the nape of my neck, then the line of my collarbone, until his face is buried in my cleavage. I feel his hot tongue wiggling between my breasts.
I push back against his chest and begin undoing the buttons of his shirt. He yanks down his tie, discarding it in a single flourish. I pull the fabric apart, and his chiseled torso comes into view, sparsely covered in dark, curly hair.
“You like what you see?” he grins.
Before I can answer, he wraps his arms around me and stands up from the settee.
I yelp. He turns and lowers himself until my butt meets the plush seating again.
Then, he drops to his knees and begins easing up my dress.
I place my hands flat against the seat and push my hips up, helping him bunch the silk around my waist. Only my white lace panties remain.
He smirks at me before taking them off. I hold my breath as I sit bare before him. He leans in and inhales deeply, a guttural moan escaping him.
“Fuck!”
He buries his tongue in my folds. Electric sparks rocket up my loins, exploding in my chest like fireworks. He laves over my pussy, spitting on it before drawing his attention back to my clit. My hands find the back of the settee, cries of pleasure escaping me.
He continues until I’m grinding against his face, my moans filling the quiet house.
Then, he slips in a finger, then two, then a third.
The intensity is so sharp it’s impossible to tell if it’s pleasure or pain—but it gets the job done.
It triggers an earth-shattering orgasm that rocks my entire orientation and leaves me limp.
He gives me no time to recover. He returns to lap up the evidence of my release, then leaps to his feet. He pinches my mouth open and deposits my juices into my mouth. I taste myself, then him, as his tongue finds mine and we kiss again.
When he breaks away and starts to get out of his jacket, my body moves as if possessed. I slide off the settee and drop to my knees. My hands fiddle with his belt, then the button of his pants, until they pool down at his feet.
I don’t wait. As he’s undoing his cuffs to take off his shirt, I ease off his boxers and take his hardness into my mouth.
“God, that feels good!” He groans, his hips thrusting forward gently, filling me.
I come up for air just as heEdward tosses off his shirt. I descend again, taking his balls into my mouth. He moans, his body tensing. I begin to stroke his dick with both hands while nipping at his balls, causing his body to jerk sporadically until I feel his erection grow even harder.
“I’m about to come.” He grunts out.
I open my jaw wide, just in time for him to shoot his load down my throat, his body going rigid. But I don’t stop; I suck and stroke the length of him to squeeze out every last drop, making him tremble from the hypersensitivity.
When I finally let him go, I open my mouth to show him I’ve swallowed it all down. He grins, looking wrecked, and collapses onto the settee.
“You’re good at that.” He praises.
I get up, retrieve my panties from the floor, and slide them on. Then, I ease down the skirt of my dress.
“What are you doing?” he asks, slouched against the cushions.
“Going home.”
“What?”
“One moment of laxity doesn't change the plan, Edward.” I pick up my purse, my voice returning to a cold, precise edge. “Send me your idea as an email and I'll check it out. But I am going home.”
He springs up, trying to take my hands, but I retreat. I snatch my scotch off the table and down the rest in a single gulp. I set the glass back down with a sharp clack.
“Ring your driver to take me home.”