His Ultimate Demand

Dio, what was wrong with him? He should find the nearest phone and report her to management.

Zeus, his host and owner of the club, had so far excelled in keeping people like Ruby away from Q Virtus guests. Sure, most Petit Qs would accept a generous gift from a guest, but blatant stalking wasn’t tolerated.

Except, his stalker seemed eager to get away from him, her catlike blue eyes apprehensive as she glanced at his outstretched hand.

‘Come here,’ he commanded.

She swayed towards him, then abruptly halted her forward momentum. ‘If you’re too drunk to talk, what other reason is there for me to stay? And don’t mention wild sex. Because that’s not going to happen.’

Contrary to what he’d said, his mind was as clear and as sharp as a fillet knife. And it sensed a curious dichotomy in her words and actions. The dress, make-up and screw-me stilettos said one thing. Her words indicated another.

He intended to burrow until he found the truth.

Nice choice of words, Narciso, he thought as arousal spiked higher in his blood. Lowering his hand, he turned abruptly.

‘I’m returning to the bedroom. If you’re not there within the next minute, I’ll take it that our business is concluded,’ he said over his shoulder.

‘Wait! You can’t do that...’

Narciso smiled with satisfaction at her frustration. Whether she followed him or not, there was no way he was letting her out of his suite tonight. Not until he’d had her checked out thoroughly and satisfied himself what sort of threat she posed.

He recalled the circumstances of their meeting. Of all the tables she could’ve been hostessing, she’d been at Giacomo’s table.

This time he didn’t ignore the churning in his gut. Giacomo had played that game before...

He turned and found her two steps behind him but any satisfaction was marred by the new set of questions clamouring for answers.

‘Why are you really here, Ruby? Did the old man send you?’

Fresh trepidation flared in her eyes at his harsh tone. ‘Who... Oh, that guy you were playing with? No, I have no idea who he is and I’d never met him before tonight.’

He tried to read her. Surely, even seasoned liars couldn’t look him straight in the eye as she was without flinching?

‘Be warned, if I find that to be untrue, there’ll be hell to pay.’

‘I’m telling you, I don’t know him.’ Her fingers meshed together and she began to fidget. But not once did her stare waver from his.

Narciso decided to be satisfied. For now. He entered the bedroom and crossed to the en suite.

‘So I’m here. Now what?’ she asked.

‘I’m going to take a shower. You do whatever you want. As long as you don’t leave this room.’

‘God, this is nuts,’ he heard her mutter as he entered the bathroom. Despite the volatile emotions churning through him, he smiled. From the corner of his eye, he watched her head once more to the stunning view of Macau City.

Silhouetted against the view, her body was so perfectly stunning, his mouth dried. Disappointment welled in his chest but he suppressed it as he undressed.

The cold shower was bracing enough to calm his arousal but not enough to wash away the bitterness as he replayed his evening.

Giacomo was bent on trying to take Narciso down.

Well, that suited Narciso fine. Although Narciso could’ve destroyed him with that last move, the notion of leaving him dangling a little bit longer had been irresistible.

The opportunity would present itself again soon enough. Giacomo was predictable in his hatred for him, if for nothing else.

And at thirty, exactly ten years after his father’s most cutting betrayal, the need for vengeance burned just as brightly in Narciso’s veins.

For as long as he’d been old enough to retain his memories, Narciso had known that Giacomo bore him a deep, abiding hatred. As a child he’d been bewildered as to why nothing he did pleased or satisfied the man he once called Papa.

On his eleventh birthday, a whisky-soaked Giacomo had finally revealed to him the reason he detested the sight of his son. At first, even reeling from the shock of the discovery, Narciso had stupidly believed he could turn things around, make his father, if not love him, at least learn to cohabit peacefully with him. He’d made sure his grades were perfect, that he was quiet and obedient and exemplary in all things.

Narciso’s mouth twisted. That had lasted all of a year before he’d accepted he was flogging a dead horse. When his thirteenth birthday had come and gone without so much as a single lit candle on a store-bought birthday cake, he’d finally admitted that war was the only way forward.

He’d suppressed whatever heartache had threatened to catch him unawares in the dead of night and used animosity to feed his ambitions to succeed. He’d won scholarships to the best colleges in the world. His head for figures had seen him attain his first million by eighteen. By twenty he’d been a multimillionaire.

Twenty...also the age he’d met Maria, the unexpected tool his father had used against him. The wound gaped another inch.

With a sharp curse, he shut off the shower. Snapping up a towel, he tied it around his waist.

Maria was dead to him, but, in a way, he was pleased for her transient presence in his life ten years ago. She’d reinforced his belief that lowering his guard, even for a moment, was foolhardy. That even fake love came at a steep price.

Money and sex were the two things he thrived on now. Emotions...connections, hell, love, were a complete waste of his time.

He entered the bedroom and found Ruby reclining on the bed, legs crossed, one bare foot tapping in agitation. She shot upright at his entry. After that one quick look, Narciso barely glanced in her direction as he walked to the connecting dressing room.

The whole evening was screwed up. His thwarted efforts to bed her, and now his unexplained trip down memory lane had left him in an edgy mood. Snatching at his fast-dwindling control, he reached for the rarely used silk pajama bottoms and dropped his towel.

The choking sound made him glance over his shoulder through the open door. She sat frozen on the bed, her eyes wide with astonishment.

‘Something wrong?’ he asked as he stabbed one leg into the garment. At her silence, he started to turn.

She shut her eyes and jerked away from him. He pulled the bottoms on and entered the bedroom. ‘Open your eyes. It’s safe to look now.’

She opened her eyes but kept her gaze averted.

‘Come on, now, the way you’re acting you’d think I was the first naked male you’d ever seen.’

That gurgling sound came again and Narciso shook his head. ‘I have very little interest in virgins, amante. If you hope to snag my attention, I suggest you drop that particular act.’

She inhaled sharply. ‘It’s not an—’ She bit off the rest of her answer as he drew back the sheets.

Four of the six pillows he threw to the floor before he got in. The sight of her sitting so stiffly made his jaw tighten. Reaching across, he pulled her into the middle and pulled the sheet over them.

‘You were saying?’

She shook her head. ‘Nothing. Are you really going to sleep?’

‘Yes. I suggest you get some sleep too even though I fear for your circulation in that dress you’re wearing.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘If you say so.’ He relaxed against the pillows. Sleep would be elusive with her so close. For a moment he wondered why he was torturing himself like this.

Keep your friends close and your stalkers closer?

He suppressed a grim smile, grabbed the remote and doused the light in the bedroom. But with one sensory factor taken away, her erratic breathing became amplified.

Good. If he was to be tortured with images of what sex between them would be like, it was only fair she experienced the same fate.

‘What happens tomorrow?’ she asked quietly.

‘Tomorrow we talk. And by talk I mean you come clean, completely, as to why you’re here. Because if you hold anything back from me, I won’t hesitate to throw you to the wolves.’

CHAPTER FIVE

RUBY WOKE WITH the distinct feeling that something had changed. It took a millisecond to realise what that something was.

‘You took my clothes off?’ she screeched, her fingers flying to the hem of the black T-shirt that had miraculously appeared on her body.

The man who lay so languidly beside her, his head propped up on his hand, nodded.

‘I feared you’d suffocate in your sleep in that dress. Despite your dubious reasons for being here, even I would find it difficult to explain death by designer gown to the authorities. You were quite co-operative. I think it was the only time you’ve been co-operative since we reached my suite, which tells me you were as uncomfortable as I suspected.’

She licked her lips and struggled not to squirm under his scrutiny. At least her bra and panties were intact. But the fact was she didn’t recall what had happened. And there was only one worrying explanation for that. ‘I was tired,’ she bluffed.

‘Right.’ Silver eyes bore into her until she felt like a fly hooked on a pin.

His gaze dropped to her twisting fingers, and she abruptly stilled the movement. ‘Tell me what happened. Exactly.’

One brow rose at her firm directive but Ruby was desperate to know what had happened during the night. She’d tossed and turned in agitation until sheer exhaustion had finally pulled her under some time before dawn.

‘You tried to escape a few times. I brought you back to bed.’

God. No. It’d happened again...

Definitely time to leave. She tried to move, and felt a snag on her foot. Shoving aside tangled sheets, she stared in horror at the rope tied around her ankle.

‘You tied me up again! Do you have a thing for bondage?’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Until last night, I’d never needed to tie a woman to keep her with me.’

‘Oh, well, lucky me. Did you tie me before or after you took off my dress?’

‘After the second time you tried to take the door off its hinges to make your escape, we came back here and I relieved you of your suicidal gown and put the T-shirt on—’ A deep frown slashed his face. ‘Are you saying you don’t remember any of this?’

She sucked in a slow breath and looked away.

He caught her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him, his steady gaze demanding an answer. ‘Dio, you really don’t remember?’

Ruby had no choice but to come clean. ‘No. sometimes I...sleepwalk.’

His brows hit his hairline. ‘You sleepwalk? How often is sometimes?’

‘Not for a while, to my knowledge. It only happens when I’m...distressed.’

His frown intensified. ‘You found last night distressing?’

‘Being tied up and kept prisoner? No, that was a picnic in the park.’ She tugged at her ankle restraint. ‘And now I’m tied up again.’

‘It was for your own good. After I put the restraint on, you stopped making a run for it. I think secretly you liked it.’ His fingers caressed along her jaw, his eyes lowering to her lips.

Instantly the mood changed, thickened with sensual promise. ‘I’m not into bondage.’ Or sex with playboys, or anyone for that matter!

‘How do you know? Have you ever tried it?’

‘No. But I’ve never jumped off a cliff either, and I’m certain I wouldn’t enjoy that experience.’

‘Fair point. For the record, I have. With the right equipment, all experiences can be extremely enjoyable. Exhilarating even.’

She watched, terrified and mesmerised, as his head started to lower. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m kissing you bon giornu, bedda. Relax.’

That was easier said than done when every nerve in her body was strained in anticipation of the touch of his mouth on hers. She told herself she was sluggish because she was sleep deprived. But it was a lie.

As much as she yearned to deny it, she wanted the pressure of his demanding kiss and the heady racing of her blood through her veins.

His moan as he deepened the kiss echoed the piercing need inside her.

One hand clamped on her hip, drew her sideways into him. At the sensation of his sleep-warmed body against hers, she moaned. The fact that she was clothed from neck to hip and he was clothed from hip to ankle didn’t alter the stormy sensation of their bodies meshing together.

Nipples, stung to life at the touch of his mouth on hers, peaked and ached as they brushed his chest.

When his hand moved under the T-shirt and skimmed over her panties, Ruby jerked at the vicious punch of desire that threatened to flatten her.

She was drowning. And she didn’t want to be rescued.

‘Dio mio, you’re addictive, bedda,’ he murmured against her mouth before plunging back in. His tongue shot between her lips to slide against hers. He staked his claim on her until she couldn’t think straight. Even when his mouth left hers to nibble along her jaw, she strained closer, her hand sliding up his chest in a bold caress that shocked and thrilled her at the same time.

When her nail grazed his nipple, he hissed. Stunned at the surge of power that action gave her, she flicked her nail again.

‘Careful, amante, or I might have to repay the kindness.’

Lost in a swirl of desire, she barely heeded the warning. Bringing up her other hand between them, she flicked both flat nipples at once.

‘Maledizione!’ He pushed her back onto the bed and yanked up her T-shirt.

Danger shrieked in her head a second before his mouth closed over her nipple. Tonguing, licking, he pulled the willing flesh deep into his mouth.

Sensation as she’d never felt before tore through her. Between her legs where her need burned fiercest, liquid heat fuelled her raging desire.

Her fingers curled up and spiked into his hair as he transferred his attention to her other nipple. A little rougher than before, he used his teeth this time.

Her tiny scream echoed through the bedroom as her head slammed back against the pillow.

Feeling his thick arousal against her thigh, she moved her leg, eager to rub closer against the potent evidence of his need.

The snap of the ankle rope broke through her haze. The reality of what she was doing hit Ruby with the force of a two-by-four.

‘No!’ She pushed at his shoulders until he lifted his head. The sight of her nipples, reddened and wet from his ministrations, made dismay slither through her in equal measures. She was nothing like her parents. Nothing—

‘What’s wrong, bedda?’ he grated huskily.

‘What’s wrong? Everything!’

‘Everything is a huge undertaking. Narrow it down for me a little. I’ll take care of it.’

She pushed harder. ‘For a start. Get. Off. Me.’

His nostrils flared with displeasure and his fingers bit into her hip. ‘You were moaning your willingness a moment ago.’

‘Thankfully, I’ve come to my senses. Get off me and take off that...shackle you’ve placed on my ankle.’

He slowly levered himself off her but not before she got another sensation of his thick arousal. Flames rushed up her cheeks.

Back in his previous position, he dropped his gaze from hers to her breasts. Realising she was still exposed, she yanked her bra cups into place and tugged down the T-shirt. A T-shirt that bore his unique scent, which chose that moment to wash over her again. As if she weren’t suffering enough.

‘I don’t like women who blow hot and cold, tesoro.’

‘Where I come from a woman still has the right to say no.’

‘A stance I fully respect. Except your actions and your words are at direct variance with each other. You crave me almost as much as I crave you. I can only conclude that this is a ploy to string me along until I’m too whipped to put up much protest against your demands.’

Again his description of her behaviour struck painfully close to the bone, pushing all her fears to the fore. Struggling to hide it, she raised an eyebrow.

‘Wow, you really have a low opinion of yourself, don’t you? Or is that a high opinion on my sexual prowess?’

‘Unlike you, I’m not afraid to admit my desire for you. It’s almost enough to tempt me to tell you to name your price so we can be done with this...aperitivo and get to the main course.’ There was a hard bite to his voice that instinctively warned her to do that would be a mistake.

‘I only want you to hear me out. You said we’d talk this morning.’

He got up from the bed in a sleek, graceful move that brought to mind a jungle creature.

The unmistakable evidence of his arousal when he faced her made her swallow. He showed no embarrassment in his blatant display of manhood. Even in thwarted desire, Narciso Valentino wore his male confidence with envy-inducing ease. Whereas she remained cowering beneath the sheets, afraid of the sensual waves threatening to drown her.

‘And so we will. Come through to the kitchen. Caffeine is a poor substitute for sex but it’ll have to do.’ With that pithy pronouncement, he walked out of the bedroom.

She lay there, floundering in a sea of panic and confusion. If anyone had told her she’d be in Narciso Valentino’s bed mere hours after meeting him, she’d have laughed herself hoarse. Particularly since she’d vowed never to mix business with pleasure after what had happened with Simon.

But what Narciso had roused in her just now had frightened and excited her. Kissing him had been holding a live, dangerous firework in the palm of her hand. She hadn’t been sure whether she would experience the most spectacular show of lights or blow herself to smithereens with it.

And yet she’d been almost desolate when the kiss ended. Which showed how badly things could get out of hand.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she counted to ten. The earlier she finished her business with Narciso and got on the plane back to New York, the better.

Throwing off the sheet, she glanced at the velvet rope around her ankle. Twisting her body into the appropriate position, she tugged on the double knot, surprised when it came loose easily.

Again, the realisation that she could’ve freed herself at any time made her view of him alter a little. Her fingers lingered on the rope warmed from her body.

Bondage sex. Until now, the scenario had never even crossed her mind. But suddenly, the thought of being tied down while Narciso laid her inhibitions to waste took up centre stage in her mind.

Heat flaming her whole body, she jumped from the bed. Upright, his T-shirt reached well past her knees, and covered her arms to her elbows.

She glanced at her gown, laid carefully over the arm of the chaise longue, and made up her mind. She would dress after they’d had their talk. She couldn’t bear being restrained in the too-tight dress just yet. Ditto for her heels.

Stilettos and a T-shirt in the presence of a dangerously sexual man like Narciso Valentino evoked an image she didn’t want to tempt into life now, or ever.

For some reason, her body turned him on. She wasn’t stupid enough to bait the lion more than he was already baited.

Barefoot, she left the bedroom and went in search of the kitchen.

He stood at a centre island in a kitchen that made the chef in her want to weep with envy. State-of-the-art equipment lined the surfaces and walls and through a short alcove a floor-to-ceiling wine rack displayed exquisite vintages.

‘You get all this for a two-day stay?’

He jerked at her question. Before he could cover his emotions, Ruby glimpsed a painfully bleak look in his eyes.

A second later, the look was gone as he shrugged. ‘It suits my needs.’

‘Your needs... I’d kill for a kitchen like this in my restaurant.’

‘You own a restaurant?’ he asked.

She concluded her survey of the appliances and faced him. ‘Not yet. I would’ve been on my way to opening Dolce Italia by now if NMC had honoured its commitments.’

‘Ah, the sins of imaginary corporate sharks.’

The coffee machine finished going through its wake-up motions. He pressed a button and the beans started to churn.

‘Not imaginary.’ Ruby stepped forward when she realised what he was doing. ‘Wait, you’re doing it wrong. We’re in a warm climate. The coffee beans expand in warm weather so you need to grind them looser to extract the maximum taste. Here let me do it.’ Even though stepping closer would bring her dangerously close to his sleek frame, she seized the opportunity to make herself useful and not just stare at his broad, naked back. A back she could suddenly picture herself clawing in the heat of desire.

Just as she tried not to stare when he leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his bare chest.

‘How are you at multitasking?’ he asked.

‘It’s essential in my line of business.’ Content with the setting, she pressed the button to resume the grinding and went to the fridge. She grabbed the creamer, and forced herself not to gape at the mouth-watering ingredients in there.

‘Good, then you can talk while you prepare the coffee. Tell me everything I need to know.’ His brisk tone was all business.

Quickly, she summarised the events of the past two months.

‘So you entered this competition as a chef?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I have a degree in hospitality management and a diploma in gourmet cuisine and I’m an approved board-certified mixologist.’

He grinned. ‘You have to go to college to mix drinks?’

‘You have to go to school to wash dishes right these days or someone will sue your ass.’ She started to grin, then stopped herself. ‘I mean...if you don’t want to be sued for accidentally poisoning someone. Besides, I plan to make my cocktail bar accessible to allergy-sufferers, too, so I need to know what I’m doing.’

‘Which of your drinks is your favourite?’ he fired back.

The question threw her for a second. Then she shrugged. ‘They’re all my favourite.’

‘Describe the taste of your signature drink,’ he pressed.

She went in search of coffee cups, opening several cabinets before she located them. She had to reach up to grab them and the cool air that passed over the backs of her legs reminded her how exposed she was.

‘Umm, I don’t actually like cocktails that much,’ she blurted to distract herself from her state of undress.

‘You’re a mixologist who doesn’t like her own creations? How do you know you’re not poisoning the general population?’

‘Because nobody’s died yet sampling my drinks. And as to how I know my drinks rock? I try them out on my roommate.’

‘You want me to invest...how much does my company owe you?’

‘Two hundred thousand dollars to help towards construction and advertising costs for Dolce Italia.’

‘Right, two hundred thousand dollars, based on your roommate’s assessment of your talent?’

She poured and passed him a cup, forcing herself not to react to the spark of electricity when their fingers brushed. ‘You threw away thirty million last night without blinking but you’re grilling me over two hundred thousand?’

He stiffened. ‘That was different.’ His voice held icy warning.

She heeded it. ‘Anyway,’ she hurried on, ‘thousands of people voted for me to win your show based on three of my best dishes and cocktails.’

His gaze drifted over her, lingered at her breasts then down her legs before he came back to her face. ‘Are you sure that’s the only reason they voted?’

The sudden tremble in her fingers made her set the cup down. ‘You’re an ass for making that inference.’ Again, much too close to home. Too many times her mother had been ridiculed for using her sexuality to boost ratings, a fact Ruby had burned with humiliation for every single time.

‘What inference?’ he asked with a sly grin.

‘The stupid sexist one you’re making. Are you saying they voted for me because I have boobs?’ Her rough accusation finally got his attention. The smile slid from his face but not the stark hunger in his eyes.

‘Very nice ones.’

Despite her annoyance, heat rushed through her. ‘Yeah, well, two of the other contestants had boobs, too.’