Club Saturday: Contemporary Menage Romance (Sarasota Sin Series Book 2) (20 page)

“I don’t want you. It was a misunderstanding when we were together, remember?”

He cupped her throat, and Vania’s pulse accelerated against his palm. “Your heart beats for me, Vania, only me.”

She called out again with a desperate shout, but he squeezed her throat fractionally.

“You know my touch,” he repeated, “and your body anticipates me.”

“No!” She tried to charge forward but he held her throat steadily. “I anticipate… nothing from you!”

He spun her around and refastened his iron hold faster than she could blink.
 

Her cheek hit the mirror. “Don’t!”
 

His thigh wedged between hers from behind, lifting until Vania’s feet dangled off the floor. She reared her head backwards, trying to head-butt him but he saw it coming. He swerved and her head landed on his shoulder, where he captured her throat again.

“Get. Off. Me!”

He whispered against her ear with irritating calmness. “Not until we talk this through.”

“Help!”

“Vania!”
 

“Evan!” She shouted as the elevator doors started whining, metal screeching on metal. “I’m in here! He’s got me!”

“That’s right,” her attacker said, unaffected by her outburst. A shaft of light shot through the elevator doors. “I have you.”

“No!”

He bit down gently on Vania’s neck, right beneath where Gayle left a mark.
 

She screamed out her fear and frustration until her voice broke.

“Soon,” he whispered.

Vania kept her hands pressed to the mirrors, her startled breath whooshing to and from her body, as he disappeared into the dimly lit corridor.
 

“Vania!” Drake’s hands came through first before he completely stepped into the elevator. He grabbed her hard, smothering her against him.

She pulled away on a sob, pointing shakily to the corridor. “He was here, the same man, the blonde man,” she rambled. “He’s insane…sent the flowers… thinks we’re together.”

“He’s a deadman!” Evan pushed past a burly man wearing an earpiece.
 

The man snagged Evan by the arm and shook his head. “Let me do my job, Mr. Easton, without worrying about you.”

Evan’s nostrils flared but he backed off.

Then the man pulled a gun from his jacket and disappeared into the corridor.
 
More security rushed down the hallway, their shoes a beating echo on the marble floor.

“Are you hurt?” Drake asked.

“Only scared.”

Evan tossed down a crowbar and hugged her.

They led Vania to another elevator. She dug in her heels at the sight of it. “I won’t go in.” She shouted, “Not another elevator tonight!”

“You’re bleeding and freaking out,” Evan said roughly. “I’m not taking you through the stairwell where the freak could be hiding. I need you back upstairs in my apartment.”

“I’m not going back there,” Vania argued. “I’ve had enough of Club Saturday. I’m not safe here!”

Chapter 22

Vania hissed when Evan dabbed alcohol on the back of her head. “Sorry, Baby.” He kissed beneath her injury.
 

They met eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “I’m fine.”

The only place she’d allowed Evan and Drake to take her was her current home, the firehouse’s loft. Her men agreed only after a boatload of security arrived first, since Vania’s assailant disappeared without leaving a clue, not even tonight’s security footage from the elevator could identify him.
 

Club Saturday’s security was on full alert, going through all digital footage from the club, concentrating first on entrances and exits.
 
Plus, Evan and Drake had brought in private security kept on retainer by The Easton Company, and then sent out private investigators. How much was this costing? She couldn’t imagine. But Matt should get the bill.
 

No one, especially Vania, wanted to involve the police. Elevators for swingers would be frowned upon in the eyes of the law, and she didn’t need her story leaking out to the press via an official investigation. Finding herself in the center of a scandal wasn’t her first choice. Her stalker would have to be found by Easton devices. Still, as Evan said earlier this evening, finding her assailant was needle meet haystack when all they had to go by was blonde hair.
 

“You’re already bruising around the cut.” Evan tried to hold back his anger but his jaw was knotting from the effort. “Not as bad as I expected, but you’re going to be sore tomorrow. Or today, actually,” he said, glancing at his watch, “since it’s close to four in the morning.”

“Because of the bruises Matt left,” she explained, holding up her arms, “I can’t wear my strapless gown to the fundraiser.” Her eyes narrowed on her hair, her vision blurry without her glasses. “Because of Gayle Murphy, I guess I won’t be wearing my hair up, either.”

“You’re worried about your dress?” Evan gaped. “I’m calling off the damn fundraiser!”

“You will not!” Her hand stilled on her neck, the soapy washcloth pink with blood. “I’m not quitting Avery and the burn center — which really needs this infusion of donations, by the way — because of freaks and assholes. I don’t bow down to fear.” When he opened his mouth to argue further, Vania held up a hand. “I have this peace because you and Drake have enough security around me to keep even the president safe.”
 

“It’s not enough for me.”
 

“That freak overpowered me, frightened me, and threatened me. But do I have to crawl inside my body to escape him?” She huffed, tossing the washcloth on the tub and hitching her hands on her hips. “Not when I have two billionaires for lovers. Your money is buying me enough protection.” She tilted her head. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Don’t thank me.” He licked his lips. “You haven’t seen the shit spreading across the internet about us yet.”

“Let me guess,” she groaned. “Your tongue in my mouth?”

“For starters…”

“I guess you stated your claim then,” she growled at him, remembering what he’d said about a public claiming since he’d never kissed a woman for the world to see.
 

“Hmmm.”

She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Evan, where’d you go?”
 

“Um… Yeah, and those pictures with Gayle? They’re saying she’s my old lover instead of Drake’s and that you two were fighting over me in the bathroom.”

“My mother will see that… and the office!” She started tapping her bare toes on the tile, restless anger coursing through her. “Tell me they got my good side, at least.”

“Hmmm…” He wiped a shaky hand over his mouth.

“Evan, what’s wrong with you?” She stepped closer. “Is there something you’re
not
telling me?”

“It’s hard to concentrate when you thrust your chest out indignantly, bouncing around, all furious and… lush,” he whispered as though he were in pain, closing his eyes for a second and swallowing hard.

Vania glanced down her body. She stood in only frayed pajama shorts. “I didn’t want to get my camisole wet while washing off the blood.”

“That’s sensible but my dick reacts all the same.”

Her eyes traced the tribal looking ink that started at the curve of his shoulder and completely engulfed one arm. She reached out and trailed swirling lines until she landed on the elastic band of his boxer shorts. He was so drool worthy that Vania’s nipples tightened to rigid, pink peaks, begging for his mouth. “My body reacts to you, too.”

His eyes fixed on her breasts. “Are you wet for me?”

“Very much.”

With a frustrated growl, Evan stepped back as far as he could in the tiny bathroom. “Not tonight.” He shook his head. “Not after the vile touch of that bastard.” He took a deep breath, his cheeks red with sudden rage. “But I would hold you while you get a few hours of sleep.”

Erasing her assailant’s touch was what Vania needed from Evan and Drake. But she knew a dead-end argument when it stared her in the face. “Yes, that would be my second choice,” she said, pulling her hand away from the ebony trail leading to what Vania wanted, “so let me know if you change your mind.”

He appeared so aggrieved by the loss of her touch that she thought he would change it on the spot. Instead, he cleared his throat and inched back. “Avery would understand us canceling the fundraiser.”

“This again?”

“Vania, please, were expecting three hundred guests. And though that’s a low turnout due to the size of this property, it’s a large enough crowd to —"

“I won’t go.” She held up both hands in surrender. “If I’m causing you so much worry that you would cancel, I’ll orchestrate everything behind the scenes today, with your security hounding my heels.” Her heart sank; she wanted to see the final party, needed that sense of accomplishment. “During the fundraiser, you can put me in one of the villas with bodyguards while you and Drake escort Gilda.”

“The look on your face, you’re killing me.” He leaned against the wall, letting the back of his head clip it a few times. “I’ll personally call our hotel boutique and tell the manager to send over an assortment of clothing and accessories first thing in the morning.”

Her heart squeezed. “You will?”

Evan wrapped his hands around her waist, his fingers moving in faint circles. “Last minute means everything will be off-the-rack, but you’re so beautiful the snobs won’t notice your dress.”

“I haven’t worn a custom made dress.” She nearly laughed at his expression but managed to hold back. “The dress I was going to wear is beautiful, though.” She shrugged and his eyes skipped to her breasts. “It’s from a wedding I attended last Christmas, and it was from a local department store.”

He raised a censoring eyebrow. “While you were on Matt’s arm, I’m guessing.”

“Though I’ve been given a generous raise and an incredible, temporary home, I haven’t money to burn on clothes for these functions.” Vania placed a kiss on his chest, strategically over his heart. “So, thank you in advance for the dress and for arranging security so I can attend.”

“That’s it?” Evan asked warily.
 

“Yes. I’m getting over this. We’re lovers now.
 
I’m not fighting pride to accept a gift from one of my lovers. I would buy something for you to wear. That is, if you needed it and I could afford to do so.” She raised her hands to his pecs, circling her palms over his velvet skin. “Besides, tomorrow night I refuse to display bruises left from Matt and his lover.”
 

“At least you broke some of the bitch’s teeth.” Evan lifted her hand from his chest and pressed kisses across her faintly swollen knuckles.

“I’ve wanted to do that and more, since I found out she was fucking Matt. Didn’t change anything for me, though.”

His eyes shone with sudden hope. “Because your feelings for Matt weren’t what you thought they were.”

“You’re right.” She wanted to tell Evan how she really felt, but the words didn’t seem right enough for inside the bathroom at four in the morning.

“I was wondering where you learned to hit like that?”

“A boy from high school.” She laughed at the memory. “My sister, Kris, thought she was the boss of me twenty-four seven. Was bigger than me, too, so on most days she was right.
 
One afternoon Kris punched me on the bus in front of a guy who must’ve liked me.”

“Fighting sisters.” Evan shook his head. “So the guy taught you to stop hitting like a girl?”

“He sure did. Next time Kris came after me, I gave her an uppercut beneath the ribs, sent her flying into the linen closet.”

“Took her breath?”

“Yeah, she was a whiny baby about it. Dad came in and grounded me on the spot. I told him it was worth the punishment to teach Kris a lesson. So he added an extra week of grounding for my sassing.”
 

Evan dipped his head and brushed her nose with his. “She ever hit you again?”

“Yeah, but from then on I could always hit better.”

His hand slid up her body, his thumb absently flicking the tip of her nipple. For someone who only wanted to hold her through sunrise, Evan was forgetting himself.
 
“How long are you going to let Drake stew?”

“Is that what I’m doing?”
 

“You didn’t say a word to him on the way here.”

“How would you know?” She pushed at Evan’s stomach until he moved to let her by. “You drove my car behind us.”

“I could tell by the look on his face.”

“I was in shock over the bastard threatening me and —”

“
Vania
.” Evan shook his head disappointedly at her. “It’s more than that.”

“I cannot see reason sometimes.” She admitted, “I am freaked out about that man but I’m also pissed off about Drake being with that bitch. I want to go back in time and change it, about as much as I want to change being with Matt!”

“And?”

“And?” she repeated with a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll go talk to him.” She knew Drake was nearly overwrought after what happened — that he needed reassurances of her physical and mental wellbeing. “I don’t wish Drake hurting or worrying over me.”