Marked for Pleasure [Blood Bond]

Blood Bond

STACEY ESPINO

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

Heidi Walsh crossed one leg over the other and tapped her pen on the stack of papers as she gazed around the industrial-size kitchen. Stainless steel glinted from every corner, and the custom granite countertops had been imported straight from
Italy
in oversized slabs. She’d never seen a place so big, so extravagant, never mind being hired to sell it. The commission from this sale would pull her out of the red and give her some wiggle room for years to come.

“Do you mind showing me around? Just a quick tour to give me an idea of what I’m dealing with.”

Christian DeVille, one of the two brothers seated at the table with her, stood up, his chair scraping along the slate floor. He was everything a man should be, tall with broad shoulders, tapered waist, and tight ass. He dressed smart-casual with designer black pants that hung deliciously off his body and a wine-colored shirt, no tie.

Heidi had a crush on Christian ever since he moved into the house. They’d had several encounters, many leading her to believe he was interested in asking her out. But he’d always cool off and push her away before anything real could develop. Now he treated her like a complete stranger.

“Whatever you want, Ms. Walsh.”

They’d moved into the mansion at the end of the street when she was twenty-one. For five years she’d had a wicked desire for the three DeVille brothers, along with about every other neighborhood woman for miles.

That’s usually when she saw them—driving by her place or, on rare occasions, when they were doing things at the front of their house at night. It was rare because they had groundskeepers and maintenance men to do everything for them during the day.

She remembered one time, years ago, she’d seen Christian at the mall and nearly peed her pants he was so hot up close. He’d asked her to lunch at the food court, which seemed beneath a man of his wealth. But he never acted superior, and he melted her heart with his charm and humor. He was generous with the compliments, making her feel like the only woman in the world. Then, just like every time they found themselves in each other’s company, he’d abruptly tell her he had to be somewhere else and take off. She still coveted a good-bye kiss, a real date, or to feel their bodies entwined on his bed.

“Please, call me Heidi.”

“Of course.” He reached out an arm and turned over his hand in a gentle wave, signaling her to go on ahead of him. She adjusted her pencil skirt as she rose and tried to concentrate on walking with dignity when she wore too-high heels. Yes, she may have gone a little overboard to impress her new male clients. She was determined to get them to notice her this time.

Her heels echoed with each step, but the three men moved with the grace of panthers, not making a sound. She continually checked behind her to ensure they followed.

The house was immaculately kept, with minimal furniture. At least they weren’t hoarders. She had a nightmarish memory of selling a home like that last month. The men in her office usually stuck her with the shitty deals since she was new and a woman. This place would be a dream to sell.

“How many bedrooms, again?”

“Eight bedrooms—all on the upper level.” Christian’s voice slithered through her body, deep and rich. It always had such a profound effect on her.

She glanced up the winding, wooden staircase when they moved from the kitchen to the grand foyer. Every spindle was hand carved and stained a rich cherry. Heidi couldn’t help but stop and appreciate the splendor of the craftsmanship. The massive structure was the focal attraction in the entryway and would definitely be one of her main selling points when she brought buyers through.

“Is the basement finished?”

“No,” blurted Francis, the eldest brother, making her jump.

Asshole.
If she thought Christian was odd, Francis took the cake. He’d always been the same, never partaking in small talk, eager to get away from her at every turn. He had a dark, brooding air about him. Just like the other two DeVilles, she’d love a piece of him. Yet all the flirting in the world did nothing to garner his attention.

She quickly smoothed away her scowl and took a breath before proceeding toward the other end of the main floor. Wealthy clients were given allowances for obnoxious behavior, especially ones who looked like Greek gods. She’d dealt with much worse.

The tension was thick in the air, and she felt as if she’d done something terribly wrong when, in fact, she’d done nothing but her job. She couldn’t help but think it unlikely there wasn’t at least an unfinished basement in a house this age and size, but she wasn’t going to question them.

They entered a sitting room with Victorian-style sofas and chairs. The walls were painted in neutral beige but adorned with some of the most exquisite artwork she’d seen outside of a museum. The home certainly didn’t give off a bachelor vibe. Only the three DeVille brothers lived in the old mansion. They’d been the talk of the town for months after moving in.

Why weren’t they married? How did they make their money?

All kinds of rumors and speculation surfaced—from being drug dealers to spoiled trust-fund children. She had no time for the gossip of old women. Whatever they were, they weren’t children now. They were all over six feet by several inches and built like brick houses. Christian was the youngest and looked to be in his late twenties. The other two were probably in their thirties but no less handsome. They all shared the same black hair and too-dark eyes. She’d expect them to have golden skin, but they were fair, making their features stand out. For the amount of time they stayed inside during the day, rather than enjoying their vast property, it made sense that they’d lack a healthy glow.

“Could I get a list of chattels going with the house?” She took careful steps, not wanting her heels to get caught up in the Oriental area rugs. As she ran a fingertip along the mantle of the fireplace, she felt the heat of a man’s breath against her neck.

“Everything goes. We’re not taking anything with us.” This time it was Joseph who spoke.

When she twisted to face him, his narrowed eyes were a mix of seduction and warning, pulling her in like a lamb to slaughter. She pressed her thighs together in a poor attempt to squelch the pulse pounding in her clit. How could just a look have such a profound effect on her? The masculine energy in the room, all those dark, haunting eyes zeroing in on her, was a test on her control.

Joseph was the one to hire her, stopping by the office after hours to discuss details of the sale. He’d hover over her, envelop her in his masculine presence. An innocent touch, the tone of his voice, the movement of his lips—everything about him was raw seduction and she wasn’t immune.

“Everything? What about the art? Some of it looks priceless.”

He shrugged one shoulder, still assessing her with unblinking focus. “They’re just things. It would be too much trouble to cart everything across the ocean.”

She wanted to ask why they were moving, why they’d leave a lifetime of collectibles behind, and why they were all unmarried. But she kept her lips sealed, remained professional, and decided to just continue on with the tour. That was if she could get out of the corner he’d trapped her in with his body.

“Well, in that case, it should be even easier to sell the house.”

He was doing it again, as he had time and time again at her office. There was a dominant energy surrounding him and it pulled her in every time. But there’d always been that invisible line he dared not cross. Why? She was a single, twenty-six-year-old woman. If he’d bent over and kissed her or let his hand touch her intimately, she wouldn’t have resisted. Heidi concluded that while there may be mutual attraction, he probably felt too good for her. She was still living with her parents, struggling to make it in a male-dominated career.

Joseph didn’t give her any personal space. He towered over her, his subtle musky cologne teasing her senses. “Shall we show you the second level?”

When she nodded, he smoothed his hand down the length of her arm—a slow, sensual drag—before taking her hand in his. The simple contact warmed her from the inside out. She should pull away, keep things professional, but couldn’t.

“
Joseph.
” Francis’s voice carried a distinctive warning.

For what? Being improper? Was she treading on dangerous territory? There was no way she could risk losing this job. Her feelings for the DeVilles had to come second.

Joseph pulled the hand he held to his lips, kissed her knuckles, and then released her. All three men moved on ahead of her, back to the main foyer. She tagged along, trying to regain her full composure before they spoke to her again. When she glanced up at the staircase it was impossible not to entertain childhood fantasies of princesses and happily ever afters. If she were alone, she’d run up and down the winding flight of stairs, maybe even don her old bridesmaid dress and pretend to be Scarlett O’Hara.

Stupid, really, but she was used to living in the basement of her parents’ cramped bungalow, living off secondhand romance novels. Her entire street, and most of the town, was made up of lower- to middle-class homes, making the DeVille house stand out in comparison. It was always a topic of conversation. Who built it? How old was it? Who held the title? There were no historical records, and before the DeVilles had moved in, it had been empty for decades.

This deal would guarantee her freedom, give her enough cash to put a down payment on a little place of her own. Her father had told her she needed to stay put until she married, but this was the twenty-first century, and no one gave a shit about honor or chastity anymore. If her dad knew she’d fooled around with their next-door neighbor’s son, Tommy Goldfield, before she was legal, he’d go through the roof. But he couldn’t coddle her forever. She was a twenty-six-year-old woman, not a child.

Once they arrived at the top of the staircase, the men stood to the side and allowed her to choose where she’d head next. The three of them were an imposing sight when they stood side by side, so similar, so nicely built. She was already a petite woman, but they still made her feel feminine and dainty, something she rarely felt with the jackasses she worked with. They didn’t like the idea of a woman working in the office, so they stuck her with the shitty sales, until this one. The DeVille brothers had requested her personally, giving her the break of the century. It certainly boosted her ego, and she had to wonder if they’d actually thought of her over the years.

“Whose bedroom is this?” She walked in, unable to mask her enthusiasm.

The bedroom was bigger than the entire basement she lived in, with high ceilings, elaborate crown moldings, and gleaming hardwood floors.

But, once again, it didn’t suit the men or even look lived-in. She could bounce a quarter off the bedspread. There were no bottles of cologne on the dresser or suit jackets hanging on the closet door—no sign that anyone had used the room recently. She assumed it was a spare, considering there were eight bedrooms and only three brothers.

“It’s Francis’s room. He’s very anal.” Christian strode past her and parted the heavy curtains to glance down at the darkened courtyard. The entire house was fitted with the same heavy wine-colored drapes. Then he turned and leaned against the mahogany-stained dresser, arms folded over his chest. “What do you think?”

She took a peek in Francis’s direction. He stood by the entrance, looking none too pleased that she occupied his personal space.

“It’s nice,” she said.

Heidi was not willing to add fuel to the fire Christian had started and say anything negative. Francis’s heated stare made her feel like the worst kind of outsider, completely unwanted. Besides, buyers liked to see a home that was neat and organized, not cluttered and lived-in. They wanted to imagine their own family living in the house, and that was hard to do when a place was overly personalized with photos and trinkets.

“You’re being kind, Heidi. It resembles a room in a museum. If a person didn’t know better, they’d question if my brother was even human.”

“Christian.” Francis’s irritation had grown significantly. He now glared at his younger brother with disdain. She felted trapped in the middle of a family drama that had nothing to do with her.

“You’re making our guest uncomfortable.”

Francis stormed out ahead of them, but Christian and Joseph appeared unfazed. Maybe she wasn’t the problem. Perhaps he was always in a snit.