PunishingPhoebe (8 page)

To her surprise, he waved over a waiter.
“Would you like a drink? I imagine you have never tasted Cristal Champagne
before.”

Her lips tightened at the veiled reference
to her supposedly impoverished upbringing, but she didn’t retort. In the
interest of maintaining peace, she accepted a glass, murmuring her thanks. The
beverage was crisp and definitely the finest champagne she’d ever tasted,
though she wouldn’t admit that to him.

“Tell me, Miss Sanders, what do you think
of my crystal chandelier? I had it designed specifically to my tastes and
imported from Rome.”

With a frown, her gaze followed where he
pointed. The chandelier was exquisite and she opened her mouth to tell him so.
Instead, her mouth dropped slightly when she saw Luca on the second-floor
balcony, standing close to Caprice. “It’s lovely,” she said mechanically,
unable to tear her gaze from the sight of Caprice curving an arm through Luca’s
to bring him nearer.

“Speaking of lovely, they make a lovely
couple, don’t you think?”

The fine champagne had soured in her mouth
and she set the glass on a passing tray. There was no point in pretending like
she didn’t know to whom he referred. She shrugged.

“Caprice is a lovely girl, with exquisite
breeding. An undeniable asset to Luca.”

Phoebe made a noncommittal sound while
searching the room for a gracious exit.

“As his wife, she will see to all his
needs.” The old man laughed, a cold sound that sent shivers down her spine. “A
woman like you would no doubt jump at the chance to remain his mistress, but he
will no longer want you after they are married.”

Her head spun. “Married?” she whispered.

Salvatore nodded, his expression one of
smug satisfaction. “It is a key component of the merger. I see Luca failed to
mention that.” He laughed.

“Excuse me,” she said through clenched
teeth, turning from Salvatore and rushing blindly through the crowd. Her goal
was the exit, but she collided with a solid body before she could reach it. She
recognized the frame before seeing Luca’s face when she looked up.

“Phoebe? Are you okay?”

She pulled away from his solicitous hold.
“Fine, but I’d like to leave now.”

He frowned. “I saw you alone with my
father. I came to rescue you, but I see I didn’t make it in time. Did he say
something to upset you?”

“Yes.” Upset was an understatement. She was
wounded to the core, though it was ridiculous to feel that way. Their
relationship was little more than anger and sex. He owed her nothing.

Luca’s mouth tightened. “I’ll speak to
him.”

She put a hand on his arm. “No. Just let me
leave.”
The party, your apartment and you.

After a hesitation, he nodded, moving to
walk beside her.

“You don’t have to leave with me. I’d hate
to tear you away from anything.”

“It’s fine.” He put his arm around her
waist, looking annoyed when she didn’t soften her posture to curve against him.
“I’ve been imagining stripping that dress off you for the past hour.”

She made a scoffing sound, but didn’t
challenge the statement. Instead, she focused on getting through the ride home,
maintaining a cool silence. Once they were inside his apartment, she braced
herself to withstand his seduction. She might have to sleep with him, but she
didn’t have to enjoy it. How could she, knowing he was engaged to another
woman?

The wedding must have been planned for months,
since the merger was almost a year in the making. Before she’d taken
Salvatore’s payoff, Luca had been interested in her. He would have let their
affair proceed to the next level, knowing he was going to marry another woman.

As she marched toward the bedroom,
determined to strip off the dress herself, he kept pace. “What the hell is
wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

Luca ran a hand through his hair, mussing
it. “Whatever my father said, you shouldn’t let it get to you.”

She whirled around to face him. “Even if
it’s the truth?”

He frowned. “I don’t know what he said, but
I can imagine. If you’re embarrassed about your background—”

Rolling her eyes, she turned away,
proceeding to the bedroom. “I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done, or of my
past. My parents were comfortably middle class, not the poverty-stricken trash
your father implies.” Her shoulders sagged as the surge of anger faded, leaving
her on the verge of tears. Not prone to crying, the constantly raw emotions
provoking the reaction were distressing.

“If that’s not it, then what did he say?”

She looked at him, hoping her expression
was impassive. “He told me all about Caprice.”

Luca arched a brow. “What about her?”

“That she’s about to be your wife.” To her
surprise, he laughed. “I’m glad you find it so amusing. You’re a hypocrite,
Luca. The entire time I’ve worked for you, there was never any mention of an
engagement, even when we were about to…well, before the situation with
Salvatore occurred.”

With a shake of his head, he approached
her, cupping her upper arms. “I’m not marrying her. The wedding is an idea her
mother and my father came up with to strengthen the merger. Caprice is
perfectly willing, but I am not.”

A flutter of hope flickered through her.
“But you’ve worked so hard to complete the merger. You can’t just let it go.”

He shrugged. “I would in a second, if it
meant marrying someone I didn’t love. Thankfully, Capro finds the idea amusing,
but nothing else. He has said he’d like me for a son-in-law, but would prefer
Caprice marry for love, not business.”

She sagged forward, into his arms. “I see.”

“Do you?” he asked, sounding cryptic. At
her frown, he nudged the corner of her mouth with his thumb, encouraging her to
smile. “Did my father say anything else to upset you?”

She shook her head, unresisting when he
lowered his mouth to hers. Phoebe closed her eyes, letting the kiss consume
her. Luca’s fingers were nimble, and he managed to unzip the dress without
breaking the kiss. It fell to the floor with a whisper, leaving her in panties
and the garter with the stockings.

“You are more exquisite without the gown,”
he said, lifting his head. “Your breasts are perfect just like this.” He cupped
and lifted them together, lowering his head to lave her nipples with long
strokes of his tongue. She arched her back and tangled a hand in his hair to
bring him closer. Ripples of pleasure spread through her as he sucked on the
taut nipples, alternating his attention between both. A moan of protest escaped
her when he lifted his head.

“Delicious.” Luca licked his lips
exaggeratedly. “I want to taste you here.” He cupped her pussy in his hand,
squeezing gently to create friction that made her writhe. With gentle prodding,
he urged her to the bed, only releasing her when she sat down.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she said
in a thick voice, reaching up to push off the dark suit jacket. He helped by
shrugging it off, and she set her attention to unfastening the small buttons on
his shirt. Her hands shook with need, and she grasped the lapels, preparing to
rip open the shirt to get to him.

With a chuckle, he put his hand over hers.
“Let me,
mia
tesoro
. I am particularly fond of this shirt.”

She let her hands fall to her sides,
watching him strip off the shirt. As he unbuckled his belt, she bent forward to
remove her shoes.

“No.” His hand settled on the back of her
head. “Leave them on.”

Phoebe let her hand fall back to the bed
and straightened. Luca pushed her gently to her back, parting her thighs. She
drew in a ragged breath when he unfastened the clasps of the garter to remove
her panties, rubbing his thumb down her slit. She rested her feet on the bed,
letting the heels sink into the mattress to provide support.

Luca lowered his head to lick her, and she
arched her hips, lifting her lower body off the bed to meet him. His tongue was
hot as it probed her secret places, making her pussy cream. She thrust her hips
as he sucked her clit until she was crying out with pleasure. Hands gripping
the bed covers, she let herself come.

Lifting his head, he grinned. “Your pussy
is so soft, with such fine hair.” He traced a finger down her. “I could spend
days between your legs.”

She shook her head. “You would find that
unsatisfying.” He got to his feet, and she locked her legs around his thighs.
“Your cock is so hard. Waiting days would give you the bluest balls.”

He laughed, but the sound cut off abruptly
when she loosened her grip to bring up her feet. “Stand up.”

To her surprise, he extended a hand to help
her to her feet. She took it, puzzled. Seconds later, his intent was clear.
Phoebe gripped the post of the bed, bending forward slightly to elevate her
buttocks. Luca left briefly to deal with protection. When he returned, he stood
behind her, his cock pressing against her opening.

The bedpost provided necessary support as
her knees trembled when he surged deep inside her. “Luca,” she whispered. The
heels and position opened her more fully to his possession, and he stretched
her to the limit. Each thrust hit exactly the right spots to heighten her
arousal.

He cupped her breasts, circling his thumbs
around her nipples. “So good.” His voice sounded strained, probably from the
effort not to climax.

Phoebe was struggling not to orgasm just
yet. The feel of his cock moving in and out of her at that angle was so
pleasurable that she wanted it to last forever. That would be a divine way to
spend the rest of her life—with Luca inside her, but she would be content to
just be with him.

She tensed at the thought, admonishing
herself not to be thinking about a future that couldn’t happen. He didn’t love
her and never could. It was critical to keep her heart protected.

“Do that again.” He groaned. “Tighten your
muscles.”

The first time had been in reaction to her
thoughts, but this time, Phoebe concentrated on squeezing his cock. Tensing and
relaxing her muscles caused convulsions in her womb, and her orgasm was close.
When Luca’s cock throbbed inside her, and she felt the warmth of his release
through the condom, it triggered her own.

She came so forcefully she couldn’t stay
upright. With a cry, she sagged forward, thankful for Luca’s hands on her hips
holding her up. In the haze of aftermath, she slid forward to lie on the bed,
her face against the comforter. Her knees were on the edge of the bed and her
ass was still angled up. A startled gasp escaped her when Luca penetrated her
again. “You aren’t supposed to be able to do that.” A giggle escaped her when
she realized she had sounded disgruntled.

“I have incredible stamina,” said Luca, his
tone slightly mocking, as he grasped her hips to drive himself in and out of
her. “At least with you,
mia
tesoro
.”

Limp with pleasurable exhaustion, Phoebe
was certain she couldn’t come again, but Luca coaxed another orgasm from her
before he ejaculated. She was too tired to move or protest when he lifted her
off the bed and carried her through to the bathroom. He took her into the
shower, where he washed both of them carefully. Tears burned the back of her
eyes at his gentleness, but she blinked them back. It was only her tiredness
causing the maudlin reaction. Her emotions were firmly in check, she told
herself, and almost believed it.

Chapter Five

That night seemed to have cemented an
unspoken truce between them. With surprising ease, they settled into a routine.
Luca was an early riser and he never failed to have coffee and breakfast
waiting for her. They spent their days in the office, their nights in bed, and
other times participating in normal activities that couples pursued—socializing
with friends, taking weekend trips, shopping and dining out.

A month passed before she knew it. The
realization hit her when she was looking at the appointment calendar for the
day. It had been exactly thirty days since Luca had come to her apartment that
first night. With a frown, she counted backward, discovering it had also been
at least a week since she’d called Anya. During that conversation, she had
finally confessed to living with Luca, but hadn’t shared the rest of the story
with her sister.

Feeling selfish, Phoebe reached for the
phone on her desk and rang her sister’s room. After four rings, the phone
clicked and rang once more. A pleasant, restrained voice answered. That it
wasn’t Anya caught her off-guard. “Uh, hello. I’m trying to reach Anya
Sanders.”

“Hold please.”

Muzak issued from the phone and she winced
at the volume. Impatiently, Phoebe drummed her fingernails on the desk. If she
had called while Anya was in treatment, her voicemail should have answered.

Finally, after what seemed like an
interminable wait, the Muzak faded, and a deep male voice answered. “This is
Dr. Sarat.”

She remembered the clinical director, a
short man with dark skin and the voice that was so incongruous with his size.
“Hello, Dr. Sarat. This is Phoebe Sanders. I’m trying to get hold of my sister,
Anya.”