Page 10 of Royally Tempted
6
VANDER
My foot taps impatiently. I’m restless, frustrated and about to crawl out of my skin. It’s been like this all week. I spend my days desperately trying to sneak a glimpse of Addy and wishing just as desperately never to see her again. I’d swear I even smelled her one day when I was having lunch with some friends in one of the hotel restaurants. My head whipped around so fast when the teasing, sweet citrus notes wafted by. There were plenty of women in the restaurant, including a young blonde woman who met my eyes as if we knew each other, but none were Addy.
Now, as I sit in the dark club, beautiful women sauntering past me, that perfume haunts me. I don’t know what happened to me in the rooftop garden, but I can’t eat, I don’t sleep, and the thought of my brother putting his hands on Addy’s lush body sends spikes of jealousy through me. The negotiations went well, even as guilt filled me while I sat there, my body still craving hers, and discussed mundane financial matters. As if the princess was nothing more than a company to be acquired.
When my father first mentioned a marriage alliance, I dismissed it out of hand. I’m not looking to settle down. And I’m especially not looking to settle down with a princess fifteen years my junior. I love running the east coast operations for the company, and I love being involved in the day-to-day business, which is why I was checking the access door to the private floor the day the princess flew into my arms. I have plenty of female companionship, when I want it, but lately work has consumed me and I’m not that interested in making the effort. Most of the women I meet want my money or my name and while I’m not adverse to throwing around both, it’s gotten old.
No one has sparked my interest the way Addy did when she flashed those unusual gold eyes at me. My body reacted hard to her abundant curves, the soft heaviness of her breasts, the way I could picture gripping her ample hips as I pound into her from behind.
Fuuuck.I shift uncomfortably on the low couch where I’m seated watching three big, beautiful women move sensually across the stage. My best friend Sebastian reminded me that I haven’t been to Club Curve in months, and I thought coming here tonight for the masquerade auction would help distract me from thoughts of the woman who is all but contracted to marry my brother.
I needed to do something. Especially when I asked Andre how he felt about marrying Adara and he shrugged, indicating he’d be happy to fulfil his side of the bargain by fucking her until he got her pregnant, and then he’d resume his lifestyle. He had no intention of ever being faithful to her. Anger churns in my gut and I remember the shock in his eyes when I grabbed the front of his shirt and called him an asshole.
“Why the fuck did you agree to marry her?” I demand, panic filling my chest at the thought of Andre’s playboy ways hurting her.
His hands come up, trying to knock mine away. “What is wrong with you? It’s a business deal, nothing more.”
“Well, what does she get out of it?”
Andre laughs, spreading his arms. “It’s not about her. Her brother gets our cooperation and influence. Besides, look at me. I’m the catch here. She’s no beauty, but for the price her brother is offering, I can finally buy that racing team I want. I’m not really into thick girls, but I’m sure those big tits will be fun until I knock her up.”
“You’re disgusting.” I push him away.
“And you’re wound a bit too tight.” Andre straightens his shirt, glaring at me. “Go get laid and worry less about my business.” He rakes a hand through his hair, a smug smile crossing his face. “I wonder if you’ll have to bow to me at the wedding. Remind me to ask Dad if a royal title comes with the job.”
A woman stops by our table, a bottle of Parker’s Heritage Collection on her tray. I raise my eyebrow at Bastian, noting the distinctive black label. “Second edition?” I ask.
“Of course,” the lady replies. “Your friend said he wanted the best.” She shifts and deliberately grazes my arm with her abundant charms. She’s undeniably beautiful, her thick thighs on display in the bodysuit she’s wearing, but her looks do nothing to ease my numbness.
She doesn’t have hair the color of sun-burnished honey, her skin isn’t pale gold, and when she touches me, she doesn’t blush like the ripest peach I’ve ever wanted to taste.
When I don’t respond, she moves over to Bastian, who welcomes her with open arms. “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t mind him. He’s been a grump all week. I’m hoping the auction might knock him out of his bad mood.”
She pouts at me, and I give a half-hearted grin, knowing the auction isn’t going to do anything to brighten my mood. There’s only one thing that will do that, and I’ve lost that chance forever. I swear, if there was even the slightest opportunity to make her mine, I’d steal it in a heartbeat. I’m too old for her, too jaded, too much of a workaholic, but I’d spend the rest of my life trying to make her smile.
“So, what do you think?” Sebastian lifts his glass in a slow circle. “Does the hotel magnate think I was successful in implementing my vision?”
I glance around the club, noting the expensive liquors, the dark wood paneling, and the gorgeous women. The walls are hung with elaborate and exotic paintings, erotic in theme, but nothing even hints at tacky. We’ve been coming here ever since Sebastian became an investor and over the last year, he decided to spend an exorbitant amount of money redecorating the place and the entire vibe is that of an old-fashioned gentleman’s club, which is exactly how he used to run our secret club back in our university days. I did put him in touch with the design team who did our award-winning boutique hotels in London and Singapore, and they knocked it out of the park. The atmosphere is relaxed, sexy and the bourbon is fucking delicious. I should be enjoying myself. One of the dancers saunters off the stage and moves in my direction, her hips swaying promise, but I wave her off with a smile. This is miserable. I should just go home.
I lift my drink to my lips, the caramel and vanilla notes so smooth there’s almost no burn of alcohol at all. I hold the liquor in my mouth, savoring the exquisite taste when a woman walks past, the distinctive burgundy auction cloak draped over her shoulders. Ella, the manager, holds the woman’s hand, bending to whisper something in her ear while she points at the door I know is concealed behind the bar. Something in the cadence of the woman’s walk, the gentle sway of her cloak catches my attention. She glances over her shoulder towards the bar, and I note the lacy gold mask covering her face. Her full lips below the mask are the color of ripe strawberries, plump and wet with whatever gloss she’s wearing.
Suddenly, her gaze falls on our table and I see her shoulders jerk back in reaction. Her lush mouth falls open and my heart pounds in my ears.
It cannot be.
Princess Adara cannot be here at Club Curve. Why the hell is she wearing that cloak?
I rise, but before I can move around the table to get to her, Ella whisks her away. My eyes track her through the club, my chest tightening every time I see heads turn, following her swaying hips.
Mine.
The word whispers in my head, but my heart screams it inside my chest.
I went against my instincts once, but this time I’ve been given a second chance and I’m not letting her go again.
