The Redemption of Darius Sterne (6 page)

A failure wouldn't have spent most of her share of the inheritance left to her and her sister by her parents five years ago to open up this dance studio.

The Internet truly was an intrusive thing...

Even if he had made the start of his fortune out of it!

And the ballerina Miranda Jacobs, and the tragic accident during her performance of
Swan Lake
, had once been part of that public domain. Not so much once she had begun her long recovery and disappeared from the newspaper headlines; stories in the tabloids were always fleeting, instant things, with none of those newspapers interested in reporting anything long-term.

Darius had his own method of finding out anything that he wanted to know. And, within days of meeting her, he had wanted to know everything there was to know about Miranda.

‘I doubt you have ever failed at anything in your life,' he repeated.

‘So you prefer we think of it as my just having made a career change?' she mocked. ‘A step sideways, if you'll excuse the pun?'

‘I prefer to think of it as you working with what you have left,' Darius dismissed briskly; annoying as Miranda was being, he was determined not to argue with her. ‘So, about this dinner on Saturday?'

‘You mentioned I might be interested in the charity?'

Darius masked his inner triumph as Miranda showed a grudging interest. ‘It's in aid of disabled and underprivileged children.'

A charity that
did
interest her, Andy admitted irritably, and one she already worked with; she gave over one of her sessions a week to working with disabled and/or underprivileged children.

Had Darius already known that?

Of course he had. He was a man who would make it his business to know anything he wanted to know. And for some reason he had wanted to know about her.

Or maybe it was that he thought of
her
as some sort of charity? Someone who had once been in the public eye, but now lived and worked in obscurity, at her little dance studio in the suburbs of London?

‘You know, Miranda, I was really hoping to do this the nice way.'

Andy looked up at him sharply. ‘What does that mean?' She eyed him warily, not at all comfortable with that feral smile now curving those sculptured lips. It was not the genuine smile she had visualised last week, but nevertheless it still put two attractive grooves into the lean hardness of his cheeks.

‘If you just say yes, to accompanying me to the charity dinner, then you'll never need to know.' He shrugged.

Andy's unease only increased at his pleasant tone. ‘Could it possibly have anything to do with the fact that my brother-in-law works for you?' She had been very aware of that fact from the moment Darius had approached and spoken to her in the club last week. She just hadn't believed he would actually stoop to using that connection in order to impose his considerable will.

Until now.

‘Intelligent as well as beautiful!' His smile was genuinely appreciative. ‘Yes, my brother and I have been in several meetings this week, listening to our managers as they listed all the reasons why we no longer need such big IT departments in our offices around the world, most especially in London. A drop-in workforce is, I'm afraid, inevitable. It's just a question now of deciding who is or who isn't expendable.'

And they both knew that Colin worked in the IT department of the London offices of Midas Enterprises! ‘That's despicable.' Andy was incredulous.

‘I know,' Darius drawled. ‘And I feel so bad about it,' he added insincerely.

Andy glared up at him, not sure if she wanted to punch him on his arrogant nose or just slap his face. Either way she knew it would give her only a fleeting sense of satisfaction. Nor was it an action that Darius would leave unpunished—and possibly by deciding that Colin was definitely expendable at Midas Enterprises.

‘Colin is a real person, with financial responsibilities,' she snapped. ‘He's not some toy you can play with just to get your own way.'

Darius shrugged. ‘Then stop being difficult.'

She eyed him scathingly. ‘Are you really so desperate to secure a date for Saturday evening that you would resort to blackmail?'

‘I'm not desperate at all.' His humour had faded as quickly as it appeared, his eyes now hard, his mouth a thin, uncompromising line. ‘And I don't want a date with just anyone, Miranda. I want a date with
you
.'

She eyed him impatiently. ‘Is this because I said no to you last week? Because no woman is
allowed
to say no to the imperious Darius Sterne? Are you so arrogant, so full of your own importance, that—' Andy's insulting tirade was brought to an abrupt halt as she felt herself pulled effortlessly into Darius's arms before his mouth came crashing down to capture hers.

It was by no means a gentle or exploratory kiss; it was more like being swept along on a tidal wave as his mouth devoured hers, his arms about her waist moulding her softness against the hardness of his chest and thighs, as his tongue now stroked, caressed, the soft sensitivity of her parted lips, before plunging into the moist heat of her mouth.

Andy was totally overwhelmed by the onslaught of desire that coursed through her as her hands moved up his chest and grasped onto his shoulders, before her fingers became entangled in the silky dark thickness of hair at his nape as she moved up onto her toes to return the heat of that kiss.

She was totally aware of the sensitivity, the arousal of her breasts, as her engorged nipples rubbed against the abrasive material of his coat. Only the thin material of her leotard and Darius's trousers stood between the hardness of his thighs and the heat that now burned between her own thighs.

Darius was breathing hard when he finally broke the kiss, his eyes the colour of dark amber as he continued to hold her in his arms as he looked down at her. ‘
That's
the reason I'm willing to use blackmail in order to get you to agree to go to this dinner with me on Saturday evening.'

Andy felt light-headed as she gazed up at him, and she realised that was because she had forgotten to breathe for the duration of that punishing kiss. A kiss she inwardly acknowledged she hadn't wanted to end.

What was
wrong
with her? This man had been nothing but arrogant and pushy since she first met him. To the point that he was now trying to blackmail her into going out with him on Saturday evening, and using Colin's job as leverage to do so.

Damn it, she wasn't even sure she
liked
the man.

Did she have to like him in order to be aroused by him?

Obviously not, if the heat of desire that still consumed her was an indication.

She moistened her slightly bruised lips with the tip of her tongue before answering him, instantly wishing she hadn't, as she tasted Darius on her lips: a heady mixture of warm honey and desire. She gave a determined shake of her head in an effort to dispel the fog of desire that seemed to have taken over her brain. ‘Will the press be there?'

‘What?' Darius had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

If he was honest, at the moment he had no idea what day of the week it was. Kissing Miranda had been so much
more
than he had been expecting. So much more
intense
than anything he had ever felt with any other woman.

She frowned. ‘Will any of the press be there on Saturday evening?'

‘Oh.' He nodded, his brows clearing. ‘Only those officially invited by my mother.'

‘Your
mother
?'

Darius slowly, reluctantly, released Miranda before stepping back.

Before he did something stupid, like kissing her again; just that once was enough to tell him that the desire he had been feeling for her this past week had been the tip of an iceberg. That he wanted so much more from Miranda than just a kiss. And that now, when she was still so determined to resist him, as well as tired and hot from a long day at work, wasn't the right time for the long, slow seduction he had in mind.

Running his hand through the tousled thickness of his hair made him instantly recall the way Miranda's slender fingers had been entangled in it just minutes ago. ‘It's one of my mother's pet charities,' he dismissed huskily. ‘As president of that charity, she's also the main organiser.'

As far as Andy was concerned, this whole situation had become slightly surreal.

All of it. Darius's initial and unexpected appearance at her studio. His invitation to the charity dinner. His having resorted to using blackmail in order to force her into accepting that invitation. A charity dinner, Darius had now informed her, that was being organised by his own mother!

‘Isn't introducing me to your mother a little too cosy and intimate for you?' Andy taunted to hide how disturbed she was from the kiss they had just shared. Her legs were still feeling slightly shaky, her breasts an aching, unfulfilled throb.

A reaction, an arousal, that warned her against spending any more time in this man's company than she had to. That warned she certainly shouldn't agree to accompany him to this charity dinner on Saturday.

Except Andy already knew she was going to say yes.

Because Darius had blackmailed her into accepting?

Or was the real reason because she secretly wanted to go out with him on Saturday evening, and it was just easier and less complicated—and less of a challenge to her inner warnings to do the opposite—to let Darius continue thinking she was only agreeing to go out with him because he had forced her to do so?

Andy had the next forty-eight hours, until she saw Darius again, to decide which of those it was.

Although she had a feeling she already knew the answer to that question.

She had been mesmerised by this man from the moment she first looked at him across the restaurant a week ago, even more so later that evening when he came over and spoke to her in the club, before insisting she danced with him. Since then Andy knew she hadn't been able to get Darius, and the sexual magnetism he exuded so confidently, out of her mind.

Despite all her efforts to the contrary.

She felt that magnetism all the deeper now that he had kissed her.

Darius now gave a scathing snort. ‘There is nothing in the least cosy or intimate about my mother!'

Andy looked up at him searchingly as she heard the harshness of his tone. A curiosity Darius met with a blank stare, his eyes giving away none of his inner thoughts or emotions, just as the blandness of his expression revealed none of his outer ones, either.

She gave a grimace. ‘You obviously don't really want to go to the dinner either, so why bother going?'

Darius looked away, only to be bombarded with dozens of reflections of the two of them from the mirrored walls, he standing tall and dark before a much slighter and fairer Miranda.

His breath caught in his throat as he imagined making love to Miranda in this room, with those same dozens of reflections, the two of them naked, reflected back at him. How much of a turn-on was just the thought of that? Enough so that his body hardened painfully.

He could easily imagine the two of them together here, knew that those multiple reflections would push his desire for Miranda to overload as he watched and enjoyed the two of them making love together.

He visualised the two of them, completely naked, as he stood behind Miranda, her silky, luminescent flesh very pale against his more olive skin as they stood close enough to the mirrors for him to see every nuance of expression on her face, but far enough away to ensure those multiple reflections.

His arousal would be pressed between the delicious globes of her bottom as he cupped her breasts in his hands, listening to her groans of pleasure as he played with and caressed her nipples, until they stood proud and full, and aching for more. Then he would move his hands lower, fingers splayed possessively across the flatness of her stomach, before moving down to allow his fingers to part the pale curls between her thighs and reveal the bud beneath, a bud that would be so aroused it would peep visibly from beneath its hood.

And then he would watch, would feast his eyes on that swollen nubbin as his fingers stroked and caressed. Would watch Miranda's silken thighs part as she allowed him greater access, pressing into his caressing fingers as she gasped her climax.

Then Darius would go on his knees in front of her, greedily licking and caressing her to another orgasm.

And then again, and again.

He wanted to be able to watch that reflection as he parted her thighs before thrusting his length into her. To see how wet and swollen she was for him, a silken glove as she took all of him inside her, before he began to thrust into her, time and time again. And he would watch the ecstasy on Miranda's face as she climaxed for him again, before allowing himself to fall over that edge of pleasure with her.

He straightened abruptly. ‘This particular charity dinner is a family obligation thing.'

‘Really?' Miranda still eyed him curiously. ‘You've never given me the impression you particularly care what anyone else thinks of you.'

‘I don't,' he confirmed tersely. ‘This is just— My mother throws one of these events once a year to celebrate her birthday, okay?' he bit out impatiently. ‘Her private celebration was the reason the family was at the restaurant last Thursday.'

Did that mean that Catherine Latimer's birthday was on the same day as Andy's own?

Considering the tension she had picked up from Darius just now, when he spoke of his mother, the same tension she had sensed at the family dinner table last Thursday, not to mention the scowl Darius had given later on in the club when she had told him they were celebrating her own birthday, Andy had a feeling that it was...

Darius now gave an impatient glance at the gold watch fastened about his wrist. ‘I have another appointment now, but I'll pick you up at seven-thirty on Saturday evening.'