Pure Lust: The Complete Series Box Set (22 page)

“Gabriella.” He gave my cheek a quick kiss and made quick introductions. Then, just like that, went back to discussing things that I couldn’t hope to follow.

Stocks. International business deals. This wasn’t just fashion. This was business on a level I couldn’t have followed if I had seven or eight years of schooling to help me through.

One of the women looked over at me and asked, “Will you be coming on board to help with Bouvier?”

I stared at her, terror all but choking me. I really hoped that Edward didn't expect...

Edward stroked a hand down my spine, letting his hand settle at the small of my back. “Gabriella is pursuing a career in writing.”

“Ahhh…” She gave me a kind smile and then focused her attention back on Edward.

It had been a kind smile, but something about it made my cheeks burn red with humiliation. I couldn’t define why, only that it made me feel like...less. I squeezed Edward’s arm. I needed to get away from here for a few minutes. I needed to have a few minutes with him. Just him.

Him and me…

He bent his head and kissed my temple and went back to chatting with everybody around us.

“Edward,” I whispered, my blood starting to roar in my ears.

“In a bit, darling,” he said, his voice low, a placating smile on his face.

Swallowing, I withdrew my hand from his arm, remaining at his side for a moment before I turned and slowly walked off, a fake smile given to anyone looking my way.

He didn’t even turn to watch me go.

I had to get out of here. I didn't belong.

I looked around, for Cody, even for Flynn, somebody to tell.

But there was nobody around. Nobody save for my fiancé, who was too busy chatting with his friends to notice me slowly making my way toward the towering structure of the house.

Even when I reached it and turned back to look at him, he was still standing there, chatting. He didn't even seem to have noticed that I'd left.

So I left.

Chapter 7

“No…please…I…yes…yes…”

The low, desperate moans were unmistakable.

I’d been determined to get as far away from here as I could, but the house was immense and I’d ended up lost when I’d gone through the back doors.

Now, standing in a small alcove of what looked to be a private garden, I told myself to leave. Immediately.

I knew that was exactly what I needed to do, but I couldn’t seem to move my feet. Or my eyes. They were locked on the two forms in front of me, mostly hidden by the greenery surrounding them.

“Flynn, dammit, please!” Those low moans were coming from some unknown brunette and as I licked my lips, she squealed and twisted her hips. I found myself echoing her movements and wishing I was the one over there, bent forward with my weight braced on my hands, with Flynn McCreary driving into me, his gaze locked on my ass as he fucked me hard and fast.

The woman’s pretty pink dress—and the petticoat—were shoved up over her hips and back. From my position, I had a better view of him than her and it was a lovely view.

His shirt hung open, pants pushed low, revealing those sexy v-grooves, his flat abdomen, his thick cock…when it wasn’t buried inside whoever the nameless woman was.

Guilt twisted my gut, because I was torn up inside with envy. I wanted it to be
me
standing there, bent over and open for his invasion. I wanted to be the one on the receiving end of that intensity, feeling his hands hold me steady as he slowly filled me, then withdrew, only to surge deep inside all over again. Heat pulsed and throbbed inside me and I thought if I reached down and touched myself, I’d come in no time. No time at all.

She moaned and twisted and writhed.

He made no sound at all.

He hadn’t been like that with me.

He muttered and talked to me, said all sorts of dirty things to me, both praising and damning. His voice had been half the reason I'd come as hard as I had.

“Flynn, please!”

Her voice cracked and I felt something twist inside me as he started to drive into her harder and faster. My breathing sped up in response and I bit my lip, sliding my hand down my thigh Then I realized I was toying with the hem of my skirt, drawing it up.
No
, I told myself.
No
.

“Yes…yes…”

Her raw, low moans followed me as I forced myself to back away.

If I stayed there watching them, I just might find myself doing something awful, something I’d never forgive myself for. So I left. I needed to find my way to the front of the house and call Paul. He could give my regrets to Edward. Not that I really regretted leaving. I just—

“There you are.”

I froze.

That cold voice was like a slap against my overly heated cheeks and I slowly turned to find Claire Bouvier standing in the hall. She had a look on her face that could have been summed up in two syllables.
Ah-ha
. It was a triumphant sort of gleam, the kind that a cat might have in its eyes when it finally caught a mouse.

I was no damn mouse.

Drawing my chin up, I met her stare. “Did you need something, Mrs. Bouvier?” I asked quietly.

Her brow arched. “I was just wondering where my dear daughter-in-law-to-be had disappeared to. Cody was looking for you. Edward is still talking with a group from the European division. Who knows what Flynn is doing.”

I managed not to toss out,
don’t you mean
who
?
There was no way she didn't know about her son's...tendencies.

“I’m right here,” I said, shrugging. “I was trying to find the front of the house. I was going to call Paul.” I shrugged and glanced past her to the windows that faced out over the grand lawn of the backyard. “I’m not feeling well.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” she said, her smile seeming to be pleased. “Coming face to face with everything you’re not? How could you feel well?”

Shocked at the fact she'd actually come out and say such a thing, I stared at her. The heat of my humiliation, when my pride was already shredded, was so immense, I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't find the words. “I…you don’t—”

“I don’t what?” She cut me off and crossed her arms. “I don’t understand? Let me guess.” She lifted a hand, tapping her finger with her lips. “You love Edward…” She arched her brows. “I imagine you think you do. Any number of girls
have
loved him. But that doesn’t mean they’d make him a good wife, darling.”

“Is that really your decision?” I demanded, starting to get my footing back.

She cocked her head and then, slowly, she smiled. “Yes. I’m the one who holds the purse strings…so, yes.”

“What about what
he
wants?” I was shaking inside. Shaking and half-sick with anger and a shame that I knew was unfounded. So what if I wasn’t from the New York elite, or from some family that could trace its roots back a few hundred years? My parents loved me. They had worked hard to provide for me. There was nothing to be ashamed of about that. Yet this woman was trying her best to make me feel substandard.
Screw
that.

Oh, but she was good. Even as I pulled together the ragged edges of my dignity, she moved forward and reached up, brushing my hair back from my face. “You can’t even be there for him now in the way that he needs, Gabriella. Can’t you see that? He needed a partner with him and you’d rather run around chatting with his brother than stand at his side. What do you think you can possibly do for him that a dozen other women can’t do
better
?”

I swallowed.

Then, slowly, stepping back out of reach, I met her eyes.

“I can love him.”

I didn’t look at her as I cut around her and started to walk. Maybe it was luck or maybe it was some weird twist of fate, but this time, I found my way to the front of the house. I’d sent a text to Paul as I wound my way through the elegant labyrinth and he was there, waiting for me.

Half falling into the back of the car, I whispered, “Take me home, Paul.”

“To the mansion, Miss Gabriella?”

I huddled into myself. “No.” Tears stung my eyes. “I need to go to my home, Paul. The mansion isn't home.”

Chapter 8

The boss from hell was on vacation, but that didn't mean I was. She'd left me with a list of projects and assignments I was supposed to have completed by the time she got back. Oh, and she'd left instructions for periodic updates. At least, I was able to work from home.

It was Monday morning and I was halfway through the second assignment, which I considered being ahead of the game. I'd gotten the first one done last night since I'd ended up getting home early from the party and hadn't spent the night with Edward as I'd previously planned.

I was also now the proud owner of a raging headache. That's what happened when you stayed up too late working and switching between swearing, crying yourself silly and hating on your future mother-in-law.

So far, the morning was going better than last night. I'd managed to keep Claire and her ugly words mostly
out of my head and I thought I almost had a handle on this. I could be rational…maybe. And I needed to be rational, because I still had to talk to Edward.

He hadn’t called last night.

I’d gotten home a little before nine and I’d waited, half-expecting him to call to make sure I was okay. But even as I'd busied myself with the assignment my boss had wanted first, I'd kept eying my phone. It'd had plenty of bars on it, and the battery had been full, because I’d plugged it in when I got home.

But there had been no call.

And so far this morning, there'd still been no call.

It hurt. It hurt a lot. It also pissed me off, getting under my skin in ways I couldn’t describe. Why hadn’t he called? When had he finally noticed I was missing? He'd order my food, give me a credit card to make sure I had clothes to wear for his party, but he couldn't pay enough attention to me at the party to notice I was gone.

Then I felt like an idiot, because he wouldn’t have had to have noticed. Paul would have called him right away. He probably would have sent a text at some point, probably while we were still making our way into the city. Paul would've passed along the half-truth I'd given him about not feeling well.

Still, why hadn’t he called to see how I was feeling?

“Stop it.” I ground the heel of my hand against my forehead and squeezed my eyes shut. “Focus, Gabriella.”

The figures on the screen blurred together and I got up to pace. I finally forced myself into the head of one of the characters I’d been creating. It took a while, but after what felt like a hundred circuits across the living room, I finally felt centered.

Returning to the desk, I sat down and told myself I wouldn't even look at my phone for at least an hour. Putting it all out of my head, I got a little more work done on the research my boss was torturing me with. A glance at the clock had me thinking I just might get it done before ten. At nine-twenty, the phone rang.

I grabbed it, certain it was Edward.

It wasn't.

“Tennessee.” Flynn’s voice was low, smooth and did bad, bad things to my mental state.

Immediately, my mind flashed back yesterday and how I'd seen his hands running over that woman’s body. He’d stroked one hand up her spine and tangled it in her hair, using it to tug her head up and back as he'd pounded into her. I could too clearly recall how he'd been so insanely silent, even as she made low, almost delirious sounds of pleasure as he'd driven inside her.

“What do you want?” The question came out sharper than I'd intended. I rubbed my temples and pushed back from the kitchen table I had turned into a makeshift desk for the morning. I sighed. “Sorry. Rough night. What do you need, Flynn?’

“Oh, a lot of things. But that’s not why I’m calling. I’m calling to tell you that your photo shoot was a total success. The client loved the pictures I sent her. She ended up buying a couple of different prints. I’m glad we ended up changing out your wardrobe a few times.”

I was still stuck back on the
total success
part of his comments.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Your photo shoot. You kicked ass, Tennessee.”

“That’s…” I stood, pressing a hand to my belly. It was jumping around like crazy. At least this time it was good crazy stuff. Well, good and completely nerve-wracking. “That’s what I thought you said.”

Flynn’s chuckles made my already wobbly knees feel a little weaker. “So my client ended up with two prints: one for an upcoming book and one for the one she’s planning next.”

The disbelief was giving away to excitement. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah. Yeah, really.”

I could hear the smile in his voice and it was contagious. Spinning away from the table, I shoved a hand through my hair and started to pace. I'd never in a million years thought someone would want the photos. No matter what Flynn had said, I'd never truly believed that I was model material.