Cunning Page 8

  Her head bobbed as she replied, “All those years of knowing about him and his flavor of the month and he had the audacity to accuse me. He threatened to make it public if I didn’t agree to the divorce.”

  “Make what public? Let him have the test. I mean look at Bryce. He looks like Marcel—blond hair and gray eyes. He even acts like him.”

  Suzanna laughed. “Oh, I hope not. I hope he doesn’t act like him.”

  “The good him,” I corrected. “But Bryce does have a temper.”

  “So does Marcel. He just does a better job of hiding it than some.”

  I reached out and covered Suzanna’s hand. “Honey, I’m sorry. I know you don’t deserve that. Marcel just couldn’t handle it. I mean the Carmichael name requires a lot of… pretense.”

  “Russell seems to be handling the Montague name all right.”

  I shrugged and looked out to the children now sitting in a circle, engrossed in some story that Jane was telling. “I swear, she fills those children’s heads with the strangest ideas. Sometimes I wonder if she’s good for Alexandria.”

  Suzanna smiled. “Oh, on days like today, when Bryce’s nanny is off, I’m perfectly happy with whatever stories she wants to tell.”

  “Is Bryce doing all right?”

  “He is. My father’s been a big help—when he’s not giving me the evil stare.”

  A chill ran through me. Both of our fathers had that look down to a science. In a room of people, they could telegraph it in some way that blinded everyone else in the room, but didn’t stop it from reaching its desired recipient. Whether the target was my mother or I, when it came to Charles Montague II, the arrival was paralyzing.

  RUSSELL’S GAZE NARROWED as he opened our bedroom door and our eyes met. Trying to ignore his stare, I concentrated on the lotion I meticulously rubbed into my hands. After my shower, I’d used the same lotion on my arms and legs. The rosewood scent lingered around me like a cloud. I waited for him to speak, to say something, but as the silence grew, I finally turned his direction.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what? Like I’m surprised to find my wife in a nightgown in our bed?”

  I sighed, placed the lotion bottle on my nightstand and pulled the blankets to my waist. Resting my head lightly against the headboard, I allowed my long brown hair to flow over my shoulders and said, “Russell, please.”

  “Did you say goodnight to Alexandria?”

  “Earlier, yes.”

  “Earlier, when Jane took her for her bath, or earlier, once she was in bed?”

  I reached for the light near the bed and turned the knob. “I can’t seem to do anything right in your eyes.”

  “Why are you here? You haven’t been in our bedroom in a week?”

  When I didn’t answer, his look of discontent morphed into a cocky grin. Standing straight, he bowed at the waist in a grand gesture. “Let me rephrase. Mrs. Collins, to what do I owe this pleasure? And don’t insult either of us with Southern charm. Try for once in your adult life to be honest.”

  “My father.”

  Russell shook his head and walked to the dresser. He didn’t say a word as he removed his watch and unbuttoned his shirt. Only two years my senior, Russell Collins was a handsome man, yet as he disrobed my blood turned to ice. The solid no longer flowed through my veins as I waited for his response.

  “Your father? I guess I asked for the truth. So you’re telling me that I have Charles Montague II to thank for a woman in my bed?” He scoffed. “If I’d known he had that kind of power, I would’ve been more specific with my request.”

  Though his insinuation hurt my pride, I continued with my honesty. “The staff told him I wasn’t sleeping in our room while you were in town.”

  With his shirt now gone, Russell turned my way, walking closer and closer toward our bed. There was a time I found him attractive, maybe even sexually appealing. That time was over. “What did dear old Daddy tell you to do?”

  I swallowed the bile that came with that answer. “He told me to make it right.”

  “Aren’t you the perfect daughter? Daddy tells you to spread your legs and here you are.”

  “Do you have to be so crude? I want to be with my husband. What’s wrong with that?”

  “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

  “No. It’s not,” I protested. “I can’t… I won’t… Suzanna was here today. Do you realize what the others are doing to her? They’re persecuting her, making up lies, shunning her. I’m a Montague. Our marriage can’t end like theirs. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “You’re pathetic. I don’t give a damn about Montague anymore. It’s not worth it.” He lifted his hands and gestured around. “This house, your father, the money…” His hands dropped. “There, I said it. I fucking said it. I don’t give a damn anymore about the money. I can’t live like this. I won’t. And furthermore, neither will Alexandria.”

  With each insult, each word, my chin fell toward my chest… until the last phrase. I snapped my face toward his. “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me. I’m taking her, and we’re leaving.”

  “Y-You can’t. I-I can’t…” My chest ached. “…you know what the doctors said. You know I can’t have more children. She’s the only heir. She has to stay here.” My temples pounded. “And I don’t want you to leave.” I lowered one strap of my satin nightgown.

  Russell’s laughter filled the room. “Good try, sweetheart. I might have fallen for that a year ago, but I’m done. I’m not fucking an ice princess just because her daddy told her to lie there and take it. Sex isn’t our only problem, and it sure as hell isn’t our solution.”

  “We can’t get a divorce, and under no circumstances can Alexandria leave Montague Manor. She’s the only thing I’ve ever done right.”

  “Whose words are you using, yours or his?”

  Both, I was using both. My father blamed me when we first learned Alexandria was a girl. She was supposed to be a boy, a grandson—a Montague grandson. Then, when we learned there couldn’t be any more, that the complications with her birth were too extreme, she became my greatest accomplishment.

  “She’s my daughter, our daughter,” I protested. “You can’t take her away from her mother. My father will never allow it. The courts won’t allow it.”

  “Really? You’re going to let me drag this through court?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think I know too much about Montague Corporation and too much about this fucked-up family. Quiet and quick is the way this will be done. I don’t want any money. I have money. I don’t want a damn thing from this house or this family except my daughter.”

  Lifting back the covers, I lowered my feet to the floor and steeled my expression. From the time I was a child, I knew how to use my looks and my body. Whether it was a pout or flirtation, I had it mastered. I could do alluring. It worked before. “Russell,” I whispered as I bravely walked toward him. “I’m sorry if you haven’t been happy, if I haven’t made you happy.” I lowered the other strap over my shoulder and let my nightgown fall to the floor. Stepping from the satin puddle, I walked fully nude toward my husband, my flesh covered in goose bumps as the cold air hardened my nipples. Feeling them tighten I looked down and then up. “See what you do to me, what you still do to me?”

  My heart seized as he took a step toward me, his body’s reaction becoming more prominent. Reaching behind my neck, Russell fisted my hair and pulled my head back. With a deep guttural edge to his voice, he lowered his lips to my neck. “You’re a fucking goddess. You know that. You know how beautiful you are.” He shoved me backward as I fell against the bed. “It’s all on the outside. I’m done.”

  He walked toward the bedroom door. “I have a business trip tomorrow, and when I get back, Alexandria and I are leaving.”

  “Where are you going now?”

  “There are over ten bedrooms in this place. I think I can find one.”

  “But t
he staff—”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you tell dear old Daddy.” He winked. “Don’t worry about Alexandria. I’ll take Jane too. Alexandria won’t even notice you’re missing.”

  The door slammed, leaving me cold and alone. After a few minutes, I pulled myself together, put my nightgown back on and covered it with a robe. Making my way through the outer room of our suite, I opened the door and peered down the hallway. Thankfully it was empty. Quietly, I walked toward the stairs on my way to the wine cellar. If anyone saw me, I’d retrieve two glasses. They didn’t need to know one was for my right hand and the other for my left. Let them draw their own conclusions.

  As I passed Alexandria’s door, a thin ray of light leaked into the hallway and I heard Russell’s voice.

  “…I love you, and I’ll be back soon.”

  “I love you too, Daddy.”

  She was nearly four, and her vocabulary had always been advanced.

  “Remember what I said, you’re as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside.”

  Alexandria’s laughter filtered through the open door. “Daddy, stop tickling me.”

  “What’s the rest? Tell me,” he coaxed.

  “My outside is pretty, too,” her little girl voice squealed over his laughter.

  “That’s right, princess.”

  I walked silently toward the stairs.

  HAVING CHARLI IN my bed was supposed to eliminate the morning jerk-off session, not make it worse. Damn, it was all I could do to get in the shower and not lose it all over the bathroom floor, especially as our wet clothes from last night’s shower greeted me, sprawled all over the floor.

  Earlier this morning, I’d sent a text to Isaac to have him send me another pair of shoes. I’d planned for clothes, but who in the hell stepped into a shower with their shoes on? The answer would be me. Not that I’d ever done anything like that before. Then again, I’d never been so fucking drunk with the combination of passion and rage that I didn’t know if I was coming or going. Last night I was on the edge of control. Desire and wrath made a lethal concoction, and in the heat of the moment, I wasn’t sure who would survive. Thankfully the only casualties were my Italian loafers.

  That was what Charli did to me. She made me into someone else.

  Stepping under the cool spray, I fisted my length and closed my eyes as scenes from the same shower the night before played behind my closed eyelids: that ugly red dress falling from her shoulders, exposing her sexy body. Her gaudy makeup and those cheap high-heeled sandals that kept her balance in my control.

  My cock hardened as my hand became an unacceptable substitute for her tight, wet pussy.

  From the moment I saw her in the bar, I knew I was going to take her hard, but never in a million years did I anticipate how ready she’d be. Her slickness took away any resistance as I spun her around and took what was mine. Unapologetically, I filled her—no warm-up, no being sure she was ready. I pushed balls deep as each thrust drove into her, and my fingers dug into her hips. Primal need told me to pull out, rip off the condom, and release all over her soft skin. I wanted to mark her. I wanted the world to know she was mine. Instead, as soon as I was surrounded by her, I was lost.

  Thrust after thrust—she was heaven and I couldn’t or wouldn’t leave.

  My balls tightened and fist moved faster. Biting my lip, I recalled her moans echoing throughout the shower stall. Her pussy milking my cock as her body stiffened and her head fell forward. Giving her pleasure wasn’t my goal. Taking it was. However, over and over she imploded. Apparently, even angry sex was beyond description with Charli.

  “Fuck.” My forehead hit the wall as string after string of come painted the tile. “Shit,” I murmured as my shoulders shuddered and I blinked, bringing the world around me back into focus.

  I might have told myself I was punishing her by withholding my cock, but standing under the cool spray, it was pretty fucking obvious that she wasn’t the only one suffering.

  Stepping back upon the soft carpet of the bedroom, dripping wet, I was happy to find the room empty. I’d tried to stay quiet, but with what only thoughts of her did to me, I’d probably failed. The last thing I wanted was for her to know the power she had or how badly I wanted her.

  Once I was dressed for work, I took a deep breath and headed for the living room. With the door barely opened, I stopped to appreciate the view. She was a vision, sitting on the sofa with her knees near her chest and her phone in her hand. Charli was so engrossed in whatever she was reading, she didn’t see or hear me. I stared, wondering if she had any idea how gorgeous she was. Had anyone ever told her? Maybe her unpretentiousness was part of her allure. Somehow, with that beautiful hair, now sexy and wild, her mesmerizing eyes, and perfect body, she didn’t seem to realize what she did to me.

  The idea that she needed all that makeup or a garish outfit to stand out was absurd. It was wrong on her. Alexandria Collins—my Charli—exuded elegance and culture with the perfect hint of sexy vixen. It was a unique blend of perfect qualities. I didn’t know anything about her, not really. I knew that for a week I’d made her a princess, and with everything in me, I wanted that title for her for a lifetime.

  When she looked up and her eyes met mine, I consciously returned my expression to one of disinterest, the exact opposite of what I felt. Though difficult to maintain, I resisted the urge to smile. Judging by the way she frowned and lowered her eyes back to her phone, I’d succeeded.

  I could have walked out. I could have avoided twisting the proverbial knife, but I told her the truth when I said I was bad. I had one of the best teachers and too many years to perfect the craft. The words and cold tone came with ease.

  “Coffee?” I asked, nodding toward the cup on the table beside her.

  “Yes. You’re incredibly perceptive. Was it the cup or the aroma that gave it away?”

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m not laughing.”

  “Neither am I. Tomorrow you’ll make my cup first. I take it black.”

  Her golden eyes swirled with sadness as they found mine, yet her words were crisp and precise. “I remember how you like your coffee. I didn’t realize cook and maid were part of my job description.”

  Damn, her spunk turned me on. I moved closer and gestured for her to stand. When she did, the robe she wore gaped open ever so slightly, allowing me a glimpse of her tits. They weren’t as visible as I would have liked, but with only the sides of her round globes showing, my cock thickened, twitching back to life. Lifting her chin, I brought her eyes to mine, and my tone turned purposely condescending. “Yes, Nox,” I began, “I’ll make you coffee and do whatever else you tell me to do.”

  Her stance stiffened before she repeated my words.

  “Was that too difficult? If it was, I’d be glad to bend you over this sofa…” I looked out the large windows to the park and beyond. “…in front of half of New York City and give you a reason to remember.”

  “No, it wasn’t difficult.”

  Releasing her chin, I brushed her lips with mine. My grin grew. “I think I’d like that. I’d like to bend you over the arm of the sofa, lift this robe…” I teased the lapels and dragged my finger from her tits up to her collarbone. “…and admire your round ass. Then, I’d decide if I would spank you or fuck you.”

  Her eyes closed as her head wobbled.

  “Next, I’d decide if I’d leave you that way, your ass exposed and thighs slick, or if I’d allow you to cover yourself up before my security arrived.”

  Charli’s eyes opened wide as she took a step back. “What? No.”

  I lifted my brow. “Excuse me?”

  “You said I don’t have a say in my limits, but I still have them. I’m with you. Only you.”

  “Says the woman who signed away her rights. Says the woman who had a man on each arm last night.” I pulled her close. “I told you, I don’t share. No one but me can or will touch.” Her body relaxed in my embrace. “Looking, on the other hand,” I shrugged and
went on. “…well, we’ll see how well you can follow my directions. Tonight?”

  “Yes, Nox. Tonight, Mobar at seven o’clock. I’ll be there.”

  “And tomorrow morning?”

  “I’ll make you a cup of coffee.” Her eyes fluttered down.

  I rubbed her cheek as a knock echoed from the door to the suite. “That’s a good girl. Are you sure you don’t want to give my security a show. We could just—”

  Charli looked up, and on her lips was the first smile I’d seen all morning. My heart stuttered. The honest pleasure made her eyes light like golden reflections from the crowned jewels.

  “Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “You’re in socks.”

  “How very perceptive of you.” I couldn’t help but send her words back at her.

  She stifled a laugh. “That’s why your security is coming here. You don’t have shoes to wear.”

  “I’m glad you find this humorous.”

  She shook her head. “I-I do.”

  “Go answer the door.”

  Her expression turned suddenly sober as she looked down at the robe. “But, Nox, I’m not decent.”

  “You’re also not bent over the sofa, but it can be arranged.”

  “They’ll know…”

  “That you spent the night with me,” I said, finishing her sentence. “My security will know that I fucked you?”

  Another knock came from the door.

  “Yes,” she answered, pink filling her cheeks.

  “Door or sofa? They can know it or see it. Your choice.”

  Charli pulled the lapels together, attempted to smooth her long hair, and tightened the robe’s sash as she walked toward the door. After a glance though the peephole, she turned back my direction, her expression confused. “It’s Mrs. Witt. I thought you said it was security?”

  “Open the door, Charli.”

  ASSHOLE!

  If I weren’t afraid that Nox would follow through on the sofa threat, I would’ve told him to shove it up his ass. But since yesterday afternoon, I wasn’t sure of anything. Taking a deep breath, I pretended I wasn’t wearing a robe and reeking of sex, plastered a confident smile to my face, and opened the door.