Been Loving You Too Long (27 page)

Both of the men walked inside, doing her bidding immediately.
 

Their subservience to her orders told Vincent just how ruthless Melina truly was.
 
Recalling her simpering performance at dinner, he knew just how much of an act it was now.
 
“So, you’re the criminal mastermind.
 
I should’ve known.”

She smiled.
 
“Everyone underestimates me.
 
Being a lady doesn’t also mean I can’t be a formidable opponent.”

“I’ve never been your enemy, Melina.
 
Why would you do this?”

“It was never about you.
 
My father’s a terrible business man.
 
Like so many with new money, he overspent.
 
And in recent times, it’s been very difficult to maintain our lifestyle.
 
This was to avoid poverty, Vincent—but if you really want to talk about a mastermind, your Ophelia is something else!
 
I underestimated her.”

“Watch yourself, Melina,” he warned.
 
He drew back as she moved towards him.

His backing away did not stop her advancing until she was only inches from him.
 
“What?
 
Will you unleash that famous DuChamps temper on me?” she asked, a coy smile twisting her lips.
 

It was then that he realized why Melina had always left him cold.
 
Because she was cold.
 
It was there in her eyes, clearly and without refute.
 
“Stay away from my family, Melina, and stay the hell away from my wife.
 
If I have to prosecute to put an end to this, I will.”

She leaned in until her breasts were pressed against him and her lips were mere inches from his.
 
“That would be awfully time consuming, Vincent.
 
What with the business and having a baby on the way, one wouldn’t imagine you’d have time for that!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded.
 

She didn’t answer, but turned her face up until her lips touched his.
 

He gripped her arms to push her away, just as he heard a startled gasp.
 
Prying her hands from him, he stepped back and turned to see Ophelia fleeing through the crowd.
 
Cursing, he turned to Melina.
 
“I’ve never known a more conniving bitch!”

“I’m not the one who got myself knocked up, so you’d stay married to me!” she shot back.
 
“Enjoy your little marital drama—and remember, if you make this repayment plan too difficult, I know all the ugly truths about your family, Vincent. I won’t hesitate to pay your crack whore mother in law a hefty sum to leak it all to the papers.”

Vincent didn’t bother to answer, he just walked away.
 
Keeping the secrets of his past was far less important than tracking Ophelia down and discovering the truth about her secrets.
 
When he reached the valet stand, he knew she would have already left in the car.
 

After getting a taxi, he went straight home, throwing a hand full of bills at the driver.
 
Entering the house, he knew immediately that she hadn’t come home.
 
The house felt empty in a way that it never did when she was present.
 
Grabbing a set of keys, he went into the garage and climbed into the Morgan.
 

First, he went to her old apartment and she was nowhere to be found.
 
He knew that she would have gone to Brenna.
 
But he didn’t have a clue which club she was working in and he couldn’t remember the name of her burlesque troupe, if he’d ever learned it.
 
So, that left him at square one.

Parking the car in the office parking garage, he headed down Chartres.
 
He could see Jackson Square in the distance and it triggered a memory for him.
 
Ophelia had gone once to the same psychic she’d sent him to.
 
He strode toward Ursulines street, and the plethora of voodoo shops along the way.
 

He’d already gone to two when he caught sight of a shock of pink hair through the glass.
 
When he opened the door and stepped inside, the young psychic smiled at him as if they were old friends.
 
“I’ve been waiting for you to turn up,” she said.
 
“Looks like you’ve lost something.”

“Someone actually,” he admitted.
 
“I’m looking for my wife.”

“Well, she hasn’t been here.”

Shaking his head, Vincent tried to hold his temper as he spoke, “I’m not looking for any of the psychic mumbo jumbo.
 
She’s about 5’8”, very curvy, beautiful dark hair and when she walked out on me an hour ago she was wearing a black evening dress.”

“She hasn’t been here.
 
That isn’t psychic mumbo jumbo.
 
You married the lady I saw you with that day in the square...I know because I saw it in the papers,” she answered.
 
“But if you’ll stop being a closed minded ass, I might be able to help you find her.”

“How exactly will you do that?” he demanded.
 
He was at the point of doing just about anything.

“If it works, do you care?” she challenged.
 

“No,” he admitted, and moved closer to her.
 
He watched with trepidation as she retrieved a deck of tarot cards and began shuffling them.
 
When she asked him to select the cards, he did, though he felt stupid.
 
Still, he couldn’t help but recall all the things she’d told him that day in Jackson Square.
 
“How did you know all that stuff, anyway?”

“You don’t really want the answer to that question. I can’t give it to you anyway, because I don’t know myself—this is interesting.”

Vincent looked down at the card she was tapping.
 
“It’s ugly.”

She chuckled.
 
“It’s the Tower—Lots of change, lots of upheaval.
 
Lots of plotting—this next one, the two of cups, is better.
 
It’s about a proposal of marriage.
 
Or in this case, I would say a proposal to stay married.”

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d just like to know where the hell she is—the rest of this we can figure out together.”

She flipped over another of the selected cards.
 
“Hmm.
 
You’re going back to the beginning. Wherever you started the search is where she is now.”

Vincent removed his wallet, but she placed her hand over his.
 
“You don’t have to pay for this one.
 
I’m a sucker for romance.”

“That’s a hell of a way to do business.”

She shrugged.
 
“I’m a rebel.
 
The hair should have given it away.”

“Right,” he said.
 
“Thank you.”

Leaving the shop, he backtracked to the car and headed home.
 
He prayed she was right.
 
Driving through the darkened streets, his gut clenched as he remembered the look of horror on her face. He’d hurt her, unintentionally, but that didn’t seem to matter.

She had to know that he hadn’t wanted to kiss Melina Tate, that it had been just more of the other woman’s machinations.
 
Thinking of Ophelia’s attitude towards her, she’d seen through Melina’s act even sooner than he had.
 
How could she not know?
 
Then again, he wasn’t exactly rational when it came to her.

If the situations had been reversed and he’d seen another man touching her that way, walking out would not have been the course of action he would have chosen.
 
It would have been much uglier.
 

When he pulled the car into the drive, he could see the lights blazing in the upstairs.
 
He took a moment to gather his composure before walking inside.
 
There were so many things to talk about.
 
Including the bombshell Melina had dropped.
 
He hadn’t even had time to think about that, but just considering it left him petrified.
 
He knew it wouldn’t wait forever and neither would she.
 
Taking the steps two at a time, he approached their room nervously.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Vincent opened the door to the bedroom, his heart pounding and his gut clenched tight.
 
He didn’t want to fight with Ophelia.
 
But if that was what it took to keep her from leaving, he was ready.

Noting the half packed suitcase on the bench at the end of the bed and the toiletries that were strewn to and fro, his stomach twisted into knots.“Going somewhere?” he asked.

“That had been the plan, but I don’t really have anywhere to go. No money— no job.
 
I could go to Ruby, but we’d both wind up homeless thanks to Thomas’
shenanigans.
 
So, I came back.”

“Is that the only reason?”

She looked up at him, her eyes till damp from the tears she’d shed. “I’m not an impulsive person.
 
I don’t jump to conclusions and I don’t do things that are unexpected or inappropriate. Until all this started with you, I was dull, predictable, boring.” She sighed heavily.
 
“Now, I feel like I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.
 
I don’t know if we’re going to stay together, I don’t know if you even really want to be with me or if it’s just convenient because Thomas stuck us together and we might as well at least enjoy it. I have all these crazy thoughts going through my head, and it’s that way twenty four seven.
 
I can’t live that way, Vincent—I just can’t do it!”

Vincent moved deeper into the room, settling himself on the floor beside her.
 
“I’m sorry that I haven’t been better about showing you how I feel…I have a hard time with that.”

“I know—I know everything. When I told you that Claude had filled Vanessa in, he told her about far more than the will.”

“So you know about my parents—and about Justin?”

“Yes. You could have trusted me with that.
 
I would never have betrayed you by sharing that with anyone.”

He let out a cold laugh.
 
“That isn’t why I didn’t tell you, Ophelia.
 
You’ve been privy to more secrets in this family than I have and you’ve kept everyone of them.
 
Trust isn’t the issue. How do you tell a woman that you’re obsessed with, that you dream about at night and fantasize about during the day, that your father murdered your mother in a jealous, obsessive rage?
 
You tell me a good way to bring that up in conversation?”

“You’re not your father,” she protested.
 

“I am.
 
It ate me alive to see you dancing with my own brother.
 
I used to be jealous of Thomas for the love of God—even knowing that he was gay and thought of you as family.
 
I was jealous of the time he spent with you.
 
That’s why I stayed away from you. It was never because I didn’t want you, or because I didn’t need you—it was because I needed you too much.
 
I never wanted to let something or someone control me the way that he did.
 
I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

She knew that he didn’t mean emotionally.
 
It was the violence of his parents’ relationship that haunted him.
 
“You wouldn’t— you couldn’t. You look in the mirror and you see your father.
 
But what you’re not seeing is Thomas.
 
Genetically, yes.
 
I’ve seen enough pictures of Phillip to know that you do look like him, but the way you approach life, the way you handle problems—Vincent, that’s Thomas’ influence on you.
 
He was your father in every way that counted.
 
He’s the one who shaped who you are today.”

He’d never wanted anything to be true more than he wanted that.
 
“Are you willing to bet the rest of your life on that?”

“Yes,” she said simply.
 
“I’ll bet it on you—any day of the week.”

“You know that Melina was staging all of that just for your benefit?
 
She wanted you to see that.
 
She was the brains behind this whole thing with Claude and Marvin.
 
Marvin’s on the verge of going broke and I don’t even want to know what she did to get Claude to go along.”

Ophelia sighed.
 
“I figured that out about halfway to Ruby’s.”

“While we’re on the subject of Melina; she informed me that you’re pregnant.
 
You want to explain that to me?”

Ophelia took a deep steadying breath.
 
“Brenna and I were at the spa yesterday and when we were talking it just sort of clicked that it was a possibility. Melina came in just as I was leaving.
 
Brenna would never have said anything, but if someone overheard us talking—?”

“I don’t really care how Melina got the information.
 
It’s the information itself that I’m more concerned with.
 
Are you pregnant?”

“Yes.
 
I didn’t do it on purpose—I swear.
 
I wasn’t trying to trap you.
 
I never meant for this to—”

Vincent kissed her then.
 
He took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers, just to shut her up. She melted against him, both of them taking comfort in the contact.
 
It felt right to touch her, to hold her.
 
For him, as long as he had that, he felt like everything else could work itself out.
 

He broke the kiss, but stayed close, holding her to him.
 
“I know that and it doesn’t matter anyway.
 
There’s nothing you could ever do that would change how I feel for you.”

When she gazed up at him there was a challenge in her gaze.
 
“And what do you feel for me?”

Their eyes locked, Vincent said something to her that he’d never said to another person,
 
“I love you.
 
I’ve always loved you.”

“I love you too.
 
Always have.
 
When I was a little girl and dreaming about what my life would be like—you were always part of it.
 
I would grow up; we would have a fairy tale wedding and live happily ever after.”

“We can still have that.”
 

“I don’t really want the fairy tale.
 
I want this—you.
 
With all your flaws.”

Vincent rose to his feet and pulled her up with him, kissing her softly.
 
There was heat, the intensity was there, but banked for the moment.
 
It was also tinged with a deep relief to have finally cleared the air between them, to have laid all their cards on the table.

He tugged at the zipper of her gown, sliding it down until the dress sagged and then puddled on the floor at her feet.
 
Beneath it, she wore a confection of black lace and silk that set him on fire.
 
“You ought to warn a man,” he purred.
 
“A sight like that could be dangerous to his health.”

Her fingers slid sensually over his chest, then tugged gently at his tie until it was freed from his shirt collar. “I think we’re going to try something different tonight—follow me.”

Vincent watched her walk away, the black silk tie dangling from her finger tips as she strode toward the walk in closet.
 
Shrugging out of his jacket, he dropped it onto the bed and followed her.
 
What man wouldn’t?

Ophelia stood in the center of the room, next to the upholstered slipper chair that was kept in the room for dressing.
 
She’d placed it directly in front of the large tri-fold mirror.
 
“Strip,” she commanded.
 
“I want you naked.”

Vincent wasn’t entirely certain what she had planned, but as long as it involved them both being naked, he didn’t really care.
 
Shrugging out of his clothes, he walked towards her, already painfully erect.
 
“What exactly do you have in mind?”

“Tonight, I’ve decided that I want to be in charge.”
 
Even though her voice was soft there was steel in her tone.

He knew then that she meant it.
 
He also recognized that she needed it.
 
She was proving something to him and to herself.
 
Settling himself onto the chair, he waited for her next command.

It didn’t come.
 
Instead, she simply walked behind the chair took both his hands, and looped the tie around them.
 
It wasn’t tied very securely.
 
He could get out of it any time he wanted.
 
But that was the test.
 
She wasn’t taking control.
 
She was asking him to cede it.
 

When she walked in front of him again, she straddled his thighs and lowered herself onto his lap, the tempting mounds of her breasts teasingly close to his lips.
 

With a glance at her face, he saw that she knew exactly what she was doing.
 
“I’m at your command,” he offered.
 

~~****~~

Ophelia shuddered.
 
She’d never imagined that Vincent would willingly go along with her, that he would let her bind him.
 
Reaching behind her, she unclasped her bustier and tossed it to the floor.
 
Cupping her breasts, she rubbed her nipples gently, then lifted one to his lips.

He didn’t close his mouth over it as she’d anticipated, but licked tenderly, the soothing heat of his tongue easing the ache.
 
The process was repeated, each gentle lash of his tongue on her sensitive flesh sent heat spiraling to her core, leaving her wet and aching.
 

Pulling back from him, she rose and slowly shimmied her panties down, over her hips and then down her legs until they dropped to the floor.
 
Rather than simply straddling him again, she turned, facing away from him and sank down onto his lap.
 
Shifting slightly, she reached between their bodies and grasped his cock, guiding it to her entrance.
 

She watched him in the mirror, taking note of his expressions, his responses and also of the fact that he watched her just as intently.
 
Lifting her hips, she took him inside her, pressing down onto him, feeling the hard, thick length slide into her.
 
It eased the ache for just a moment, but then created a new kind of tension inside her.
 

With slow, sensual movements, she rocked against him, on him, feeling him move within her.
 
Leaning into him, her back pressed to his chest, she felt his lips on her neck, then his teeth and tongue.
 
Circling her hips, she moaned as the pleasure intensified.
 
Deliberately, she clenched her inner muscles, squeezing tightly around him, then smiled at the harsh curse that escaped him.
 
“Did you like that?” she asked.
 

“I fucking loved it. You can be in charge anytime.”

“I think we can work out some sort of agreement on who gets to be in charge and when,” she offered.
 

~~****~~

Vincent watched her hand moving lower, sliding over her breasts and down her belly.
 
He expected her to touch herself, and was eager to see it.
 
But she surprised him yet again.
 

She moved lower, to where their bodies were joined, her soft hand cupping his balls, massaging them gently, even as she created a mind numbing rhythm with the clenching of her sheath around his cock.

“Christ, Ophelia!
 
I’m never going to last if you keep doing that.”

“I don’t want you to last. I want you to lose control.”
 
She turned slightly, so she could whisper the last of the words next to his ear, “I want you give into it completely,”
 
She then clamped her teeth on his earlobe, sucking gently, and moving lower to his neck.
 
“I love how it feels when you cum inside me—the heat and the rush.
 
I feel so close to you then.”