Embrace My Heart

“I only window-shopped.” An amused light began to creep into Oscar’s eyes, but not completely. “I wanted your advice before making any final decisions.”

“Dad?” Surprised, Vectra laughed a little.

“I’m serious, baby. It’s a place I could see spending the rest of my days. If it staggers you the way it did me when I saw it—” he shrugged “—then I’ll know I’ve found my spot. You’ve got your mother’s draw to the land. I’ll trust your reaction to it.”

“You’ve intrigued me, Daddy.” Vectra sighed in a mock haughty tone before she sobered. “Do you think the visit could wait until after this gallery show I’ve got coming up? I’ve got to visit the Miami gallery, anyway. I could detour and check out your spot before I do that.”

“Fantastic.” Oscar gave a single clap. He fixed her with an approving look and smile. “I see you haven’t been resting on your laurels while I was away.”

“Don’t you mean I haven’t been ‘hiding out’?”

“I didn’t say that.” Oscar shifted to a newer, more comfortable position in his chair. “But since you did, then yes. Yes, I am very glad to know that. I was concerned after talking to Oliver last night.”

“Right.” Vectra served up a rueful smile, at last realizing the true motivation behind the sudden invite to breakfast. “What, Dad? Did he tell you he was taking me to Robb’s party tonight?”

Oscar retrieved a minitablet from his inside suit coat pocket. “He may have mentioned it.”

“Daddy!”

“All right, all right, we talked about it, and just so you don’t go off trying to kill the boy, he actually stood up for you—told me he didn’t think there was anything we needed to be concerned about. You know how we get about you, baby. What you went through before...it did a number on us, too, you know?”

Vectra squeezed her father’s hand. The server returned with coffee for Oscar and tea for Vectra. She helped herself to several sips, waiting for the herbal blend to work its magic on the nerves her father and brother could so easily rattle with their overprotective natures.

Vectra didn’t hold it against them. They had every right to be protective of her after the nightmare she’d lived through. The fact that she hadn’t told them about it simply increased their tendency to worry that she’d suffer alone. She had discovered, though, that San Francisco and its surrounding areas encompassed a surprisingly small world. The Bauers were well-known. Word of her ex-boyfriend’s abuse, when he had taken to shaking her viciously during an argument in a popular restaurant, had quickly reached Oscar and Oliver.

“Daddy, I’m good. I’m doing fine, really.” She leaned in closer to him. “I only asked Olive to take me because I waited around too long before deciding I even wanted a date to the thing, and then all the good ones were taken.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Oscar scanned the dining room before looking her way again. “You and Sim seemed pretty close earlier.”

“Daddy...”

“Apologies, apologies.” Oscar raised his hands in a show of phony defense. “You know I have a soft spot for the boy. That’s one I wouldn’t mind for a son-in-law.”

“Hmm...and could that be because he has a talent for making you money?”

“No.” Oscar sounded playfully indignant and then he grinned. “Not entirely.”

He sobered, squeezing Vectra’s wrist.

“I know what a man looks like when he’s hopelessly around the bend for a woman. That’s the way Qasim Wilder looks when he looks at you.” Oscar shared his sage observation and then turned his focus toward the tablet, grinning when he found what he wanted.

“Lake Misurina, Italy,” he announced. “My hopeful retirement destination. Did you know that the last time Olympic speed skating was held on natural ice, this was the place it was held?”

“No, I—” Vectra blinked, working to fix her attention on the screen. “I didn’t know that.” She concentrated on what she was looking at, difficult given her thoughts were almost wholly centered elsewhere.

* * *

Qasim resisted the urge to order a straight shot of whiskey to chase his bacon and eggs. He watched Austin Sharpe head over to speak to his former mentor Oscar Bauer. Qasim habitually gritted his teeth when the man made a point of drawing Vectra into his arms while he chatted with her father. He’d already clenched his fists until his arms had grown numb. Unfortunately, looking away from the cozy scene across the room didn’t seem to be an option for him.

A dull ache hit his jaw when he recommitted to grinding his teeth. The sight of Austin patting Vectra’s hip promised to drain whatever restraint Qasim had lorded over his temper.

To say he had it bad for her seemed a pathetic description of how wildly his emotions raged when she was in his presence. He had a possessive nature that had always been a part of who he was. As a kid who really didn’t have much to be possessive of growing up, he had taught himself to stifle those emotions. It had been relatively easy. Growing up underprivileged, he had learned to wear the face of a kid who was anything but. That was before the hard work, which had brought success and wealth, allowed a modicum of those emotions to resurface, and he had indulged himself.

Even still, that possessiveness had been in relation to things. Never had it crept over to another person—a woman. Only to himself could he admit the slight fear his possessiveness had the tendency to instill. He and Vectra had struck up a friendship that had stemmed from a casual acquaintance while he’d advised Oscar Bauer on diversifying his stock portfolio. The more money he’d made the respected land developer, the more work it’d brought Qasim and the more opportunity he had to “run into” the man’s exquisite daughter.

Conversation and laughter had flowed freely between them. They’d never actually dated, but often wound up together when they found themselves at the same event. In the process of what he’d been sure had been politeness on Vectra’s part, possessiveness had reared its head for him. Those tendencies had settled in hard and fast.

He’d come to expect her company at the functions they attended. He’d keep her on his arm or within reaching distance for the duration of the event. She never seemed to mind. She was the sweetest, loveliest thing he had ever seen, but she saw him as only a friend—one of many.

She had been confused by his behavior. It was best since he obviously couldn’t rein in the stupid actions his sense of entitlement had driven him to. The way he’d behaved with Lewis Olin was proof enough of that.

Qasim muttered something foul, wishing he could kick his own ass for threatening the poor guy for simply picking up the phone to call her. She deserved an explanation, but he had no idea how to give her one now.

Oliver had been concerned when they’d gotten together for drinks several months prior. Vectra wasn’t of a mind to totally abandon her shell, and Oliver couldn’t gauge why after so long. He’d come to discuss it with Qasim. The two of them had become fast friends while Qasim had been reorganizing Oscar Bauer’s financial portfolio.

The two bottles of whiskey they’d gone through that night had loosened tongues and pickled their brains, but not so much that Qasim forgot the pain he heard in the other man’s voice as he shared his concern for his sister. Oliver was concerned that Vectra was still not venturing out on the dating scene.

Clearly, she wanted to enjoy herself, given the number of invitations she accepted. Despite the parties she’d attended and traveling she’d done, Oliver and his father could tell she was hiding, and she was too special to lock herself away.

Qasim fully agreed. He’d resisted the urge to ask out the heiress, not wanting his interest in her to complicate his business relationship with her father. The time he’d spent getting to know Vectra, however, was making that less and less of a repellant.

Then, Oliver’s loose tongue let slip an enraged curse upon the man who had “done that” to her. Qasim remembered both thanking and cursing his high tolerance for alcohol that night. Had he been more intoxicated, he may have forgotten Oliver telling him that his sister’s last relationship had damn near destroyed her. The man she’d given her heart to had chosen to reciprocate her love with his abuse.

Whatever buzz he may’ve had from the whiskey had ceased and was then absorbed by the wave of rage. He’d only gotten a last name out of Oliver before the man passed out. Thankfully, it wasn’t a last name Qasim recognized.

He knew enough, though. Not subjecting Vectra to his possessiveness became even more important after that revelation. He never wanted her to be afraid of him. He knew how much more of a possibility that could be if he let her see how little control he had over it.

He’d already blown it enough by threatening Lew. She was sure to shun him if he were to break some guy’s nose just for shaking her hand. Besides, he’d heard the stories of how a man’s possessiveness could be mistaken for love and the results it could bring. He wouldn’t subject Vectra to that.

A calmer, more rational part of his soul called out that he wasn’t that kind of man. Qasim discarded that as rubbish when he felt heat rush the back of his neck. Austin Sharpe, his arm still too snug about Vectra’s waist, was escorting her from the dining room.

* * *

“Image is everything. You know that.”

Vectra laughed while Austin relayed his lofty plans for her Miami gallery in collaboration with the event he wanted to hold.

“I’ve already had a thing on a yacht, but a gallery event would give me a chance to show off a different kind of style.”

“Is that the same thing as image?” she teased.

Austin spread his hands accommodatingly. “Of course.”

Vectra laughed, bracing a hand to his chest to steady herself.

“Vectra,” Qasim called, voice flat and deep across the lobby, drawing her and Austin’s attention.

“Sim.” Austin smiled.

Qasim didn’t spare the man a glance. “You done eating with your father?” he asked her.

“Well, I needed—” She stopped when he took her elbow, easing her out of Austin’s grasp. Vectra cast a surprised look over her shoulder to Austin and found that he seemed more amused than confused or angry.

He waved. “We’ll talk later, Vec. I need to get goin’, anyway. Catch up with you later, Sim.”

Vectra didn’t check to see if Qasim had acknowledged Austin with a look or nod. He was taking her back into the dining room.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, practically able to feel the heat radiating off him in angry waves.

“Who are you going to Robb’s party with, Vectra?”

The question caused her to stumble a bit. “Are you serious? Qasim, we need to talk.”

“We have.”

Vectra didn’t realize they’d already returned to the table until Qasim helped her back into her seat.

“Join us, Qasim,” Oscar Bauer offered.

Qasim’s hand lingered on the back of Vectra’s chair. “Maybe another time, sir.” He didn’t glance her way before he turned and left the dining room.

Chapter 4

Vectra accepted her brother’s hand when he helped her down from his Jeep that evening. By that time, she’d almost forgotten how utterly bewildered she’d been early that morning.

“Good?” Oliver gave both her hands a shake when she stood before him on the sidewalk outside Dazzles. The restaurant-nightclub was owned by the party’s guest of honor, Robb DeWitt.

“I promise I’m good.” She eased a hand through the crook of his arm and squeezed. “Just please don’t abandon me the second we walk up in here. I need to get my balance on these heels first.”

Oliver’s laughter turned heads almost as much as Vectra’s dress. She was determined to enjoy herself. The little wiggle of anticipation haunting her spine was exciting, albeit annoying.

Vectra’s gown was fashioned from a shimmering, elegant material—a cross between silk and satin. She hadn’t known which, only that she loved it. Silver and turquoise ties secured the halter bodice that dipped scandalously low to the small of her bare back. The cool turquoise color was offset by the silver and turquoise folds of the skirt that flared elegantly about her ankles. Strappy silver heels peeked out to show off a fresh French pedicure.

She’d selected her dress with Qasim in mind even though her chances of seeing him were slim to none.

What the heck, she thought, smiling up and around at the energetic atmosphere.

She’d always enjoyed playing the odds whether or not they were in her favor.

Brother and sister spent the first ten to fifteen minutes greeting other guests they knew but parted ways soon after. Vectra had spotted someone she knew, and Oliver had no shortage of female acquaintances ready to pull him away with them.

Vectra laughed while hugging Derionte Weeks, the head chef for Dazzles.

“What are you doing out here when there are people to be fed?” she teased.

“I’m no fool, Vec. This is a self-service party.” He grinned, looking quite pleased with himself. “The buffet is up on the VIP level.”

“Smart man.” Vectra arched a brow.

Derionte shrugged. “We’re actually testing out some dishes to see which’ll make the cut for Qasim’s charity thing coming up.”

“That’s right.” Vectra had almost forgotten the Dazzles cook staff had a standing job to work the highly anticipated event. “All that business is gonna earn you guys more than a few enemies.”

Derionte rolled his eyes. “Look who’s talkin’. The standing wine order comes from none other than Carro’s.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if your boss has a weakness for the best,” Vectra reasoned.

The music tempo changed and the two laughing friends immediately began to dance in place, syncing their moves to the upbeat nineties single.

Vectra and Derionte weren’t out of place. Most of the people in the room had broken out into dance whether they were on the dance floor or not. The single had always been one of Vectra’s favorites. She tossed her arms above her head, winding her hips as the grooves had their way with her body. She lost herself in the tune and didn’t begrudge the pair of hands that had come up to steady her waist.

Smiling and happy to greet another dance partner, Vectra turned. She barely avoided stumbling when she saw that it was Qasim who had come up behind her. The song faded into another upbeat but more mellow single. It was another favorite, but suddenly Vectra wasn’t in the mood for dancing. Her heart was beating way too fast to allow such activity.

“Sim.” Derionte greeted Qasim, who side-stepped Vectra to give the man a hug and handshake. “I was just telling Ms. Bauer here that Carro’s wine was on tap for your charity event.”

Qasim returned his hands to Vectra’s waist, deliberately smoothing them across her hips. “I hope that made Ms. Bauer happy.”

“Continued business is always good.” Vectra put on an easy expression for Derionte and tried to keep her mind off the way Qasim kept her back to his chest.

“We should set up a tasting to decide what’d go best with my menu. Are your folks out there workin’ on any new blends, Vec?” Derionte queried.

“Always.” She rested a hand against his forearm. “We should discuss it with your boss. I haven’t even told him happy birthday yet.”

“He’s up in the VIP level.” Derionte chuckled. “Says he’s gonna wait ’til a little later to make his appearance.”

Qasim and Vectra groaned playfully over their old friend’s penchant for grand entrances.

“Derry!” A petite waitress in a tuxedo-styled serving dress made her way through the crowd. “We need you in the kitchen.”

Derionte rolled his eyes. “Duty calls. Hey, y’all go on up,” he ordered, clapping Qasim’s shoulder before he followed the waitress back through the robust crowd.

Vectra dropped her easy expression and turned a scathing glare upon Qasim.

“Who’d you come here with?” He took the lead of the conversation.

Vectra stepped back, disengaging his loose hold on her hip. “Are you prepared to answer the same question?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Please. Are you really that clueless? Or are you just trying to play dumb? Because you’re pitiful at it if you are.”

Qasim blinked, understanding pooling in his gaze as if something had clicked. “You think I brought someone here with me?”

“Didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell is going on with you?” Whatever reservations she’d had vanished as her curiosity took hold. “Why would you say you don’t want to be friends anymore? Did I say something? Do something wrong—” She grew quiet when he caught her elbow in a firm, yet remarkably gentle grasp and pulled her away from the crowd.

Vectra held on to Qasim’s arm so she wouldn’t stumble on her chic, yet outrageously high heels. Qasim didn’t stop moving until he’d found an unoccupied remote section of the terrace. The structure ran the entire rear of Dazzles and overlooked the garden dining room below.

His hands smoothed up from her elbow to cup her slender neck, practically covering the entire column beneath a wide palm. His fingers played in the short crop of her blue-black hair where it tapered at her nape. His thumb tilted her chin up and back, studying the expression haunting her lovely face.

“Don’t be afraid of me, Vec. Don’t be afraid of me...” he whispered. The repeated words were silenced when his tongue outlined her mouth.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he groaned, then took total possession of her mouth, backing her toward a remote corner of the terrace as he did so.

The contact was deep, seeking as he journeyed. He’d wanted her for so long and wasn’t about to be cheated from a second’s exploration.

Qasim invaded whatever personal space that existed between them as thoroughly as he invaded the sweet darkness beyond her lush lips. As close as he stood, he kept a hand at her hip, securing her against the smoothly finished wall at her back. He needed control—every ounce he could take. He knew that allowing her to be in charge of how close she got to him would very quickly get her stripped of a few choice articles of clothing as he helped himself to everything he needed from her.

* * *

Her tongue battled and engaged his as though it had a life of its own. Still, it took some time for Vectra to truly register that he was kissing her. She’d wanted it, had fantasized about it more times than she cared to admit—had pleasured herself over the way she’d imagined the experience. None of that even breached how wondrously shattering it was in reality.

God, but the man could kiss. He kept a hand firm at her hip when she so desperately wanted to seal herself against him. She had no complaints, however, about what she was being given leave to enjoy. He’d exchanged the ravenous intensity behind his lusty kisses for a more languid invasion.

Vectra reciprocated, winding her tongue slowly about his and then following up with an even more maddening suckle. Her heart, already lodged in the back of her throat, managed to flip when the sound of his whimper reached her ears.

He relaxed into her then, setting her more securely against the smooth wall. It was Vectra who nearly whimpered then. She steadied the movement of her lips, but her fingers frantically roamed his back through the crisp dark material of his shirt. As nice as the fabric felt beneath her fingers, she wanted him out of it.

Such was not to be, it seemed. Her fingers skimmed the buttons of the shirt. She wanted it parted and revealing the chest that felt like a slab of chiseled magnificence under her palms. She had but a few seconds to absorb the pleasure of the unyielding surface before he imprisoned both her wrists in his hand.

Qasim had just as much difficulty policing himself from snagging loose the ties that secured the halter bodice of her dress. He didn’t dare lower his hands. One touch of her bare back would be his undoing. It was hard enough shackling her hands when all he wanted was to run his own across the flawless beauty of her caramel-toned skin.

He ended the kiss, but he couldn’t resist another taste, beckoned by the sight of the pink tip of her tongue just visible beneath her sensually bruised lips.

Vectra arched into him, circling her arms about his neck. The groan he uttered rumbled as though it were somehow amplified. He couldn’t avoid skimming her bare back then.

Previous innocent touches to her arms, the back of her neck or a kiss to the cheek had already hinted at her softness. Having the opportunity now to actually massage her back, uncovered for his touch, drove the fact home. She was like satin in his hands. He whimpered again—no shame, all need.

Let her go, Sim. She’s not for you.

The soft yet stinging reminder was enough to still the indulgent roaming of his hands even as his fingertips skimmed the lace scrap of the G-string panties she wore beneath the dress.

He broke the kiss suddenly and before he took her against the wall the way every last one of his hormones demanded him to. He dropped a brief kiss to her ear and let his mouth linger there.

“You haven’t done anything wrong—not one thing.” He gave her space, just a little. “Dance with me?” He silenced whatever precautions his voices of reason were giving him.

The music tempo had wound down to slow and sensual by the time Qasim and Vectra returned to the party room. The guest of honor and establishment’s owner, Robb DeWitt, had not yet made his entrance. Spotlights flashed around a majestic ice-blue armchair near the front of the room in anticipation of the man’s arrival.

Vectra was pleased by the distracting lights, which kept her and Qasim’s sudden return below the radar. They wouldn’t have garnered much attention anyway, she reasoned. They could usually be found together at some point during an event they both attended.

Qasim eased his hands about her waist, his thumbs drawing small circles where they touched her bare back.

Vectra exhaled on a long breath while linking an arm about Qasim’s neck. She kept the other loosely linked about his side.

“Who brought you here?” he asked when they’d been swaying to a slow, jazzy tune for the better part of three minutes.

Vectra had been enjoying the feel of whiskers along his jaw. They felt like mink next to her cheek. His question urged her, reluctantly, to raise her head.

“Oliver.” Her gaze narrowed, watching him nod and give in to a faint, satisfied smile. “You approve? Why?”

“I just do.”

“And that’s it? I’m just supposed to accept that?”

“It’s best if you did.”

“Are you married?”

His very attractive features softened in amused shock. “You know I’m not married, Vectra.” He laughed a bit.

“You’re right, I do. Then the only reason I could see you approving of me coming to a party with my brother is because you’re one of those guys who buys into that I-don’t-want-you-but-no-one-else-can-have-you thing. Is that it?”

His amusement vanished. “I’m one of those guys who have a possessive streak.”

Vectra blinked. “Possessive?” Her fingers dug into his shirt a little. “Over me? Why?”

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