Driven by Desire Read online

  She shivered and opened her hand, sliding her spread fingers along her thigh, wiping away the sudden dampness. She shook her head again and whispered into the dim interior of her office, “I don’t want that.”

  “Good girl,” he purred. “All you have to do is open the box and look inside.”

  Without speaking, she reached out and pulled the box across her desk. Papers fell to the floor as she tipped the box into her lap. She ignored them. Bracing the box against her stomach, she jerked the bow open and flicked the top off. Her eyes widened when she saw what was inside. She held it up with shaking fingers so she could see it in the little bit of natural light filtering through the blinds.

  “Oh my god,” she gasped, staring in dismay at one of the most incredible pieces of jewelry she’d ever touched.

  “Wear it tonight with something appropriate,” he instructed.

  She shook her head, eyes wide. It was beautiful. It was barbaric. She couldn’t possibly wear it around him. Everyone would know it was a stamp of ownership. His ownership. She dropped it onto her desk as though it were a handful of spiders.

  “No,” she said clearly.

  “No?” he repeated, his voice taking on a steel edge. “No, you won’t wear it, or no, you won’t come out with me?”

  Taking a deep breath, she answered him, eyes never leaving his gift. “Take your pick, Soloman. I don’t want to play this game with you. Just… just take this thing back and leave me the fuck alone.”

  “This is not the answer you want to give me, Riley.”

  She hung up on him and turned her phone off.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Finally, her headache was completely gone. Riley lay back in the tub enjoying the scent of vanilla and lavender candles permeating the steam coming off the hot water from her bath. Lorde’s Pure Heroine album played from her phone through a Bluetooth speaker, filling the small washroom with music. Her hair was piled high on her head so it wouldn’t get wet. Her shoulders and breasts were covered in vanilla scented bubbles. She was in heaven, which was saying something considering the day she’d had.

  She’d been pretty worried that Soloman would make good on his threat and show up at the shop to drag her away. Plus, the cops had come sniffing around about a stolen Mercedes SUV. Wendell had done his usual dog and pony show of giving them the correct paperwork for all of the vehicles in the shop. He was really quite remarkable at shaking his head in commiseration and looking innocent. The SUV had been in the part of the garage they didn’t take the tourists to. Underneath the lifts there were false concrete pads. Her dad had done such a good job of building the shop, law enforcement had never been able to find the extra space.

  With a lazy sigh, she lifted one leg at a time and dragged a loofa across the silken skin, debating whether or not to shave. Though she had dark chestnut hair, she’d thankfully inherited light coloured hair on her arms and legs from her blond mother. She didn't have to shave her legs more than once per week to stay nice and smooth. And despite her somewhat racy reputation, she hadn’t actually been to bed with a guy in almost two years, so her shaving regime had fallen a little to the wayside. She was choosy about men and she had a business to run. Though she liked to have fun, she rarely found anyone actually worth taking home.

  When her music cut out and House of the Rising Sun began playing she scrunched her eyes shut and groaned. With a sigh, she reached for her phone, knowing she wasn’t going to enjoy this conversation one little bit.

  “Soloman,” she growled.

  “Roman is outside waiting for you. I want you to meet me at one of my clubs,” he said, his voice sounding chill to her ears, as though he knew she would deny him again and was preparing to play hardball with her. She sat up in the tub, splashing the water a little. “Do not… wait, are you taking a bath?” His voice took on a surprised tone.

  She smiled despite herself. She got the feeling he hadn’t intended to ask her that. “None of your damn business, Soloman,” she replied haughtily, purposely splashing the water a little more so he couldn’t miss the sound.

  He cleared his throat and growled, “Invite me over, Riley, right fucking now, and I will forget your constant disobedience and the punishments I have racking up for you.”

  “What, are you a fucking vampire now? Since when have I had to send an invitation for you to show up at my place? Last I checked, you just wander in at will.”

  He ignored her and growled, “I promise you will enjoy our night together if you just say the words to me.”

  The breath rushed out from between her lips before she could stop it. She knew he could hear the small gasp. Knew that he knew he affected her just as much as she affected him. Fuck, it still didn't give him the right to force her will to his. Despite the fact that her nipples tightened against the edge of the tub where she clutched it tightly. That her body begged her to give him the words he wanted, to ask him over.

  Wait, punishments? What punishments? Fuck him!

  “Fuck you, Soloman!” she snapped. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. Ever! You don't get to fucking send me gifts and dictate what I wear or where I’m going to wear it. And you don’t get to demand dates with me, asshole. I’m so over this shit!”

  She could feel his anger rising through the phone as though it were a living thing. She stood in the tub and reached for a towel, suddenly feeling too vulnerable. Wrapping it around herself as best she could with one hand, she hurried dripping through her apartment to the front window. It was next to the door. She peeked through the curtain, down to the street. Sure enough, she could see Roman standing next to Soloman’s S7 looking bored while he waited for her.

  “We haven’t even begun yet, little girl, and we will never be over,” Soloman’s voice whipped through the phone. “Go get dressed right now or Roman will come through that door in two minutes and drag your ass down to my club, naked or not. I’m partial to the second option, although if you force my man to put his hands on your bare body, you better believe I will beat your ass when I get my hands on it.”

  Her breath came out in short, gasping pants. She could see Roman check his phone, then look up toward her condo. He turned and started striding toward the building, his long legs eating up the distance to her place. She whirled on the spot, letting the curtain drop and ran full tilt down the hall toward her bedroom.

  “And Riley?”

  “What?” she asked in a panicked gasp.

  “Wear my gift.”

  ***

  Soloman had never been a patient man. He was used to getting what he wanted and killing the things that stood in the way. The dance he had decided to engage in with Riley Bancroft was one of the most enjoyable things he could remember doing in recent memory. All of his pursuits thus far had been for power, money and stability. This was for him. He was amazed at the patience he was cultivating for this woman. Though his dick was begging him to get on with things. Every time he saw her, touched her, was like fresh torture.

  He took a long drink of A.H. Hirsch Reserve bourbon, neat, and watched the ebb and flow of a busy Tuesday night in his underground casino from the privacy of his screened office. Setting the glass down, he took a draw of his cigarillo, allowing the smoke to linger in his mouth. It was a habit he had picked up years ago to replace cigarettes. His dark and lushly decorated office was set on the floor above the casino, so he could see everything, including the beautiful, if somewhat oddly dressed, brunette being hustled in through the side door by a grim-faced Roman.

  Soloman assumed the grim face was due to whatever sharp tirade she was treating his bodyguard to. His lips quirked as Roman’s fingers tightened noticeably and he gave the woman a little shake before dragging her up the stairs toward Soloman’s office. He would have to speak to Roman about manhandling Riley. Though he sympathized, as the woman would have tried the patience of Mother Teresa herself, she was not to be touched unless absolutely necessary.

  Roman knocked, waited for Soloman’s sharp command to enter, then punched
in the code to his office. Soloman remained by the window while Roman ushered Riley into his private sanctum. She looked pissed and was doing nothing to hide her anger.

  “Thank you, Roman,” Soloman nodded toward his man, dismissing him.

  Roman grunted, shot Riley a look that clearly said it didn’t matter how hot she was, he’d rather put a bullet in her. He turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Soloman arched an eyebrow in curiosity. What had she said to him? Roman wasn’t usually so hostile toward women.

  “Your fucking dog has no manners, Soloman,” Riley snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

  His eyes travelled down her body, taking in her ratty grey sweatpants and black T-shirt with a giant set of red lips emblazoned across the chest. He could see a hole in the side of the shirt showing glimpses of her creamy skin when she turned. Her hair was piled precariously on top of her head with long wisps framing her oval face. She wore no make-up.

  “What happened?” he asked, pretty certain anything Roman had done to her was at least partially a result of self-defence. Riley was turning out to be a bit of a hellcat.

  “He broke my taser!” she threw up her hands and stomped her foot, swinging her black purse with pink and white skulls wildly.

  Soloman frowned. “You tried to taser my man after I told you he was coming to collect you? That was a bad choice, Riley. You’re goddamned lucky he didn’t put you down, little girl.”

  “No, asshole,” she growled. “I tried to taser him after he admitted to me he kissed Katie, against her will, and then tried to make me leave my condo. Also against my will.”

  Soloman closed his eyes for a moment, torn between amusement and annoyance. This woman really didn’t do anything easy. And he wasn’t used to having to work for the things he wanted. She smelled like vanilla spice and lavender. He wanted to fuck her more than he’d wanted anything in his life.

  He found himself asking one of the least badass questions he thought he would ever have to ask in his career. “And how exactly do you know Roman kissed Katie,” he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “against her will?”

  “Because the fucker bragged about it!” she snapped, rolling her eyes. “And obviously she wouldn’t have kissed him willingly. So, I obviously had to respond by tasering the shit out of him. For the sake of the sisterhood.”

  “Obviously,” he repeated dryly. “How did Roman respond when you tried to shoot him?”

  “I told you!” she snarled, tossing her bag down on the table and causing his drink to jump. “He grabbed my taser and broke it like it was some kind of child’s toy. Then he tossed me over his shoulder like the caveman he is and shoved me in your shitty, pretentious car. The Neanderthal fucker.”

  “Watch your language, Riley. I’ve allowed a lot of leeway where you're concerned, but it is time for you to start acting with a little more dignity. As is befitting my woman,” he said coolly.

  She stared at him for a moment, her eyebrow slowly rising. Then she burst out laughing. “That is some kind of My Fair Lady bullshit,” she said in a crude cockney accent, pointing her finger at him. “Good luck with that, professor.”

  Ignoring her, he continued. “And watch how you treat my bodyguard. He isn’t a man used to taking insults lightly. Your actions toward him are only tolerated because of my interest in you.”

  “Oh yeah,” she said haughtily, her lip curling, “and I’m only in danger from your damn dog because of your interest in me. So maybe you should back the fuck off!”

  He stalked toward her, reaching for her arm before she had a chance to back away from him. Her eyes widened in alarm, but he wrapped his fingers around her resilient, smooth bicep before she could move. He yanked her into the hardness of his body, exactly where she should be and growled into her face, “No fucking chance.”

  Her breath whooshed out in a gasp as she stared up at him with wide, melted chocolate eyes. Though she sounded like a bitchy, world-weary siren, those eyes belied her nervousness every time. Her tongue poked out from between gorgeous plush lips to moisten them. His body begged him to drag her loose sweatpants down her hips and shove his fingers deep into her body, then shove her to the floor and fuck that begging mouth.

  “You’re not wearing my gift,” he said, his voice holding an edge he couldn’t contain.

  His body was so wound up he knew he would have to find some kind of release, even if he couldn’t fuck her yet. He fingered the length of her delicate throat. She tried to flinch away from him, but he held her by the back of the neck. He didn’t care if it made him a sick bastard, he loved the size difference between them. He loved that she could try to flutter against him, beat her wings like a bird trying to escape. She would fail every time and he would be right there waiting to cage her.

  With a huff, she unzipped her purse, reached inside and pulled out the choker he had bought for her. She dropped it on the table, supremely uncaring of the value as they hit the marble. Soloman felt his blood pressure rise and had to remind himself that it was her fiery nature he was attempting to cultivate for himself.

  Still, he was not gentle when he took her jaw in his hand and jerked her around to look at him. “When I purchase a gift for you, I expect you to accept it and wear it when I tell you to wear it,” he said with quiet menace.

  “I don’t like it and I won’t wear it,” she said simply, glaring up at him, every line of her body set in stubbornness. Her pupils dilated until her eyes were nearly black. She was afraid of him and what he could do to her, but she wasn’t so afraid of him that she was willing to back down. He had threatened Katie and that had turned out fine, except for a little unwilling kissing. Apparently.

  Soloman rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. Closing his eyes, he nodded his head. Fine. If this was how she wanted to play it, he would set his cards on the table. She would hate him for what he was about to do, but he was reaching the end of his patience with her continued resistance. Maintaining his grip on her arm, he dragged her toward the wide, one-way window of his office. She stumbled against him a little at the sudden movement and reached out to grab hold of his other arm for balance.

  She frowned as he swept the heavy curtain aside and pushed her forward with a heavy hand at the small of her back. Knowing how she would react, he stepped up behind her, caging her against the window. She glanced back at him in confusion. He took her chin in one hand and pointed down at one of the poker tables with his other. He knew the moment she saw her mother.

  Riley’s entire body stiffened and a cry like a wounded animal tore from her lips. She jerked against him with more strength than he would have thought possible, lunging sideways in an attempt to break free and run toward the door. He knew that she was instinctively trying to get to her mother so she could tear her away from the poker game. Riley fought an angry, silent battle with Soloman for long minutes.

  He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as she cried out, kicking and thrashing against him. Her arms were pinned at her sides so she couldn’t scratch him, but she managed to get a few good kicks in. He was forced to haul them away from the window when she managed to get her feet up in a good kick that shook the entire thing. She fought wildly against him, until he was forced to take her down to the hard floor and pin her body beneath his.

  She lay curled on her side with her arms wrenched behind her in his strong grip. She panted and heaved against him while he crouched over top of her. She managed to twist her head around and sink her teeth into his wrist before he could reposition her arms further back.

  “Little bitch!” he snapped, taking her jaw in one hand and restraining her wrists in the other. He pinned her kicking legs beneath his own. He knew he could have ended their fight a lot quicker if he’d been willing to hurt her. She was damn lucky she was the only goddamned person in the world that would get away with the shit she’d been throwing at him.

  “You need to calm the fuck down right fucking now, Riley. Or I wi
ll be forced to hurt you,” he growled in her ear, tightening his fingers around her wrists to the point of pain.

  “You’ve fucked with my family, you bastard!” she hissed up at him, “You've already done your worst.”

  He laughed cruelly and shook her with his grip on her jaw, bumping her head against the floor. “Pay attention, little girl, because I won’t say this again. I have wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you. And I have been very patient compared to my usual expectations. Cilia Bancroft is out there counting cards in my casino, we both know this. You managed to keep her secret well hidden, my gorgeous girl. No one on this town knows what she’s capable of, but I have found her out.”

  The breath whooshed out of her lungs and she froze beneath him. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Now what should I do about this information? Do you want to know what I would normally do to someone counting cards in my casino? Even with someone as beautiful and intelligent as Cilia.”

  A tear trickled from the corner of Riley’s eye, running across her nose and then down her plush lips. He ran his thumb over her lip, capturing the sign of her surrender. For the first time since his youth, Soloman felt something close to remorse. Had he gone too far in threatening the woman’s mother? His Riley was fierce, but also vulnerable and possibly breakable. He was a monster with a black soul. He hadn’t had to be tender with anyone. Ever. He didn't know if he was even capable of such an action.

  He turned her so she was laying on her back underneath him. She looked up at him with such hatred that he knew she was ready to give him what he wanted. He felt both satisfaction and concern. First, he would continue to play their game, then he would figure out a way to force her forgiveness.

  “What do you want from me?” she whispered.

  That was more like it. She was starting to ask the right questions. “I want you to wear my gift.”