Dark Alpha (ALPHA 2) (3 page)

It was only three words—well, two words and a time if she was going to be entirely accurate. And she had a feeling Lucien Wynter made a point of always being that.

Petruccio’s, 8:00, tonight.

The rest of the day passed in something of a daze for Nicky, as she decided, several times, that she wasn’t going to have dinner with Lucien Wynter that evening.

After which she would tell herself not to be so stupid, that the man was too rich and powerful for her to just ignore him, that she had no choice but to go. And dinner in a crowded, if exclusive, restaurant like Petruccio’s would be safe enough, surely?

Safe?

Well—yes, because Lucien Wynter himself was dangerous on so many levels.

Not the least because he appeared to be a personal friend of the university professor in charge of her course.

At worst because he made Nicky’s knees go weak every time she looked at him...

Even so, she still couldn’t insult the man by just ignoring his dinner invitation. For all she knew, Lucien Wynter simply wanted to have a more in-depth discussion about this job he might offer her in six months time.

And Nicky had stopped believing in the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny years ago, along with a lot of other fairy-tales, like living happily ever after. During the past five years, staying alive at all had seemed like asking too much some days.

And a man like Lucien Wynter wouldn’t have invited a woman out to dinner just because he thought she might be a future employee. Nicky very much doubted he usually bothered to so much as introduce himself to the people who worked for him, let alone take them out to dinner.

So why had he invited her out?

Then again, he hadn’t exactly invited her, now had he; writing down instructions for when he expected the two of them to meet again, on the back of a business card, wasn’t exactly an invitation. It was more of an order.

Maybe, but she would still have to go, daren’t do anything else, under the circumstances...

The decision made, albeit reluctantly, Nicky then ended up changing her clothes a dozen times or more before finally settling on a simple black, knee-length sheath dress, her makeup light, her hair its usual riot of curls.

Consequently she was a hot and nervous wreck by the time she arrived at Petruccio’s, only for the evening to go even more downhill when she walked into the exclusive, booked-months-in-advance restaurant to find it was completely empty.

Well...not completely; the manager and a man discretely playing the piano were present in the elegant Regency-style and candlelit room.

But every single one of the tables, beautifully set with crystal glasses and gleaming silver flatware, was completely empty of diners.

Including Lucien Wynter.

Had he been playing some sort of sick joke on her, and invited her to this restaurant on an evening when he knew it was closed to the public? Was it his way of deliberately humiliating her, as payback for the conversation he had overheard between her and Chrissie in the coffee shop earlier today?

What an utter and complete bastard—

She stiffened as she felt a hand slide beneath her arm to cup the bareness of her elbow, her breath catching somewhere in her throat as she turned slowly and saw that Lucien Wynter was now standing beside her.

Looking devastatingly attractive in black evening clothes, his dark hair once again in that messy style that looked as if another woman had just been running her fingers through it as he thrust inside her—

“My usual table, Marco?” Lucien didn’t so much as glance in Nicky McKenzie’s direction as he spoke to the manager of the restaurant.

He had already taken in and approved of her appearance before she’d even noticed he was here. He liked the way the figure-hugging black dress clung to her sexy curves, and the bareness of her legs was even more spectacular than he had hoped for. As for those red curls... Lucien just wanted to entangle his fingers in them to hold her in place while he devoured those pouting lips.

“But of course, Mr. Wynter.” The swarthy-faced man bowed obsequiously.

“A bottle of the usual champagne, thanks, Marco,” Lucien requested distractedly, still looking at Nicky.

Marco smiled. “Already chilling at your table, Mr. Wynter.”

Lucien nodded his satisfaction. “Give us a couple of minutes, okay, Marco?”

It took Nicky several seconds to find her voice as she was guided across the restaurant at Lucien’s side. “Where are the other—”
 

“Sit down.” He indicated the secluded booth at the back of the restaurant, several potted ferns placed close to allow for even more privacy.

Nicky sat, too bemused at the moment to take umbrage at his dictatorial tone. “Why are there no other people dining here?” she hissed softly the moment he slid into the curved and plush bench seat beside her.

“There’s no need to whisper,” Lucien spoke normally as he placed a napkin across her knees before doing the same with his own. “No one is listening to our conversation.”

“That’s because there’s no one else here
to
listen!” she pointed out exasperatedly.

Lucien turned slightly on the bench seat to look at her with cool eyes. “Marco is the manager here, and he knows how much I value my privacy.”

“Well I already knew that… My God, are you saying there are no other people here because you’ve taken over the whole restaurant for the evening?” Nicky questioned dazedly.

He shrugged. “It’s one way of ensuring complete privacy.”

Her eyes were wide. “But you have other ways too?”

His mouth tightened. “Many of them, yes. Thank you, Marco, you can just pour it.” He nodded to the other man after he had removed the cork from the bottle of champagne. He waited until the other man had poured some of the beautiful pink liquid into two fluted glasses, and then departed, before speaking again. “I ordered our food when I booked the table earlier. I hope you like oysters and
fois gras
? I find that champagne goes with both.”

Nicky was still reeling from learning Lucien had taken over the whole restaurant. The
whole
restaurant, for goodness sake. Who did that? Well...obviously Lucien Wynter did. But it was ridiculous. Obsessive, even.

“Nicky?” He arched one dark brow as he turned even further on the seat towards her, the warm and hard length of his thigh now resting alongside her own.

“I—you—oysters and
fois gras
sound fine.” Not that Nicky had ever eaten either of them, but hey, she was here with Lucien Wynter, and ‘when in Rome’... She took a sip of the champagne. Hmm, it really
was
delicious. “Look, Lu—I don’t even know what to call you?” She frowned. “Do you prefer Lucien? Or maybe Luc? Luke? Lukie?” she added facetiously; her nerves were totally shot at finding herself alone in this exclusive restaurant with this devastatingly attractive man. “What do your friends call you?”

He looked down the length of his nose at her. “I have competitors, business acquaintances, and women I fuck; I don’t have friends.”

“You said that last one to shock me!” she protested irritably.

“And I succeeded,” he came back mockingly.

Yes, he had. And Nicky also realized which category that put her in. Bastard. “Why don’t you have friends?”

He shrugged. “They tend to ask too many questions.”

As she was currently doing. And Lucien wasn’t answering any of them, Nicky acknowledged with frustration. “How can anyone get to know you if they don’t ask you questions?”

“I don’t want anyone to know me.”

“Why not?”

“Knowledge is power.”

Nicky was shocked into stillness, her lips going suddenly dry. “What...?”

“Knowledge is power.” Lucien shrugged. “And if anyone is going to have the power, then it will be me,” he added softly.

Nicky had gone ice-cold inside. Knowledge
was
power, damn it, as she knew only too well. Just as she knew the whole of Nicky McKenzie’s existence was a lie. Because the truth could get her killed.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “That’s a...a very jaded attitude.”

“It’s a safe one,” Lucien dismissed, as he now studied Nicky beneath hooded lids.

He hadn’t even been sure she would come to the restaurant at all after the way they had parted this afternoon, but he was glad that she had. She was a natural beauty. As far as he could tell, the only makeup Nicky wore this evening was a deep red gloss that emphasized the pouting fullness of her lips.

Yes, Nicky certainly looked very beautiful and desirable this evening.

Lucien had the same certainty that she had tensed after his last comment... “What secrets do you have, Nicky?”

She gave a dismissive shake of her head. “I like to spend hours soaking in a bubble bath?”

He nodded. “And...?”

She took another sip of her champagne before answering him. “I’m a chocoholic.”

His mouth tightened. “Stop playing games, Nicky.”

“But I thought you liked to play games, Lucien? Mind games,” she added disgustedly. “In which there can be only one winner, of course.”

“Me.”

“You.”

Lucien reached out and lifted the heart-shaped gold locket she wore on a chain about the slenderness of her throat; her only jewelry. “From a boyfriend?” He turned the locket over, expecting to find an inscription on the back, but instead finding two rows of numbers, one that looked as if it might be Nicky’s birthday, the other—

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” She moved back, effectively pulling the locket from his hand so that it fell back between her breasts. “I would hardly be here with you this evening if I did.”

“He might be more than happy with the arrangement.” Lucien shrugged, knowing he should have thought to ask about a boyfriend earlier.

“There is no ‘he’.” She put her glass down firmly on the table. “I’m not sure I like you very much, Mr. Wynter.”

“You liked what I represent enough to come out to dinner with me this evening,” he rasped harshly.

Her eyes narrowed warily. “And what do you ‘represent’, Mr. Wynter?”

He moved his hand beneath the table and wrapped it about her thigh beneath her dress, fingers squeezing lightly as she gave a squeak of surprise at the unexpected intimacy. “Marco is on his way over here with our oysters,” he warned softly as he saw the light of battle appear in her eyes.

Those eyes flashed a warning of their own. “Take your hand off my thigh,” she told him evenly.

“And if I choose not to do so?”

She smiled at him insincerely. “Then I may have to start screaming until you do.”

Lucien could see that she meant it too. He liked her all the more for it.

He
liked
her?

Lucien couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself the luxury of liking anyone.

He chuckled softly as he removed his hand in order to sit back and allow Marco to place the cooled silver platters of oysters in front of them, speaking again once the older man had left them to enjoy their meal. “You lift up the shell and—”

“I know how to eat oysters, thank you,” Nicky snapped, completely unnerved, both by their conversation and the heat she could still feel from where Lucien’s hand had gripped her thigh beneath the table.

She was
aroused
as well as unnerved.

How did this man manage to annoy and irritate her so much she wanted to hit him? And the very next minute, it seemed, cause her body to go up in flames?

As well as frighten the hell out of her with his comment about ‘knowledge being power’...

She gave a shake of her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came out to dinner with you because I thought you would be interesting to talk to—”

“You came out to dinner with me because I’m the CEO of Wynter Enterprises, and listed as one of the top fifty richest people on the planet!” he corrected hardly.

Nicky felt her face pale. “You
were
listening to our conversation in the coffee shop earlier...”

“I found it very enlightening.” He nodded. “Especially the part where you and your friend discussed the idea of you becoming the mistress of a rich man, who in exchange for occasional sex, would then be expected to keep you and pay off all your debts.”

“That would be an
old
rich man—and I believe I rejected the idea totally.” Nicky’s cheeks were now ablaze with color.

“Only the old part. And I’ve heard it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.” He looked at her challengingly. “Now might be a good time to change yours...”

Nicky’s eyes widened incredulously. “Are you suggesting that I become
your
mistress?”

“Why not?”

Why not?
Why not
? Had she fallen asleep and was dreaming? Or maybe fallen into a parallel universe?

None of this could really be happening, could it? This too-handsome man at her side. The empty restaurant. Lucien’s hand up the skirt of her dress. His outrageous suggestion that she become his mistress...

She gave him a pitying glance. “Possibly because, no matter what you might think you overheard earlier, I’m not for sale!”