3. Blake

CHAPTER 3

Blake

O nly an hour into this soiree and I find myself making excuses to drift further from the crowd that’s taken over my house. The fact that I invited them all here, so therefore cannot escape them, leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I need some fucking distance from all these people. There are too many of them.

Which is how I end up on the second floor, in a quieter part of my home, hiding from my own guests. Well, not hiding , I don’t hide, just seeking some fucking privacy.

The bathroom door down the hall opens and out steps a curvy woman with bouncing blond waves. Her back’s to me, but I recognize her immediately. Ginevra Pontrelli. My party planner’s youngest sister. Who I most certainly did not invite.

How the hell did she get in here? Oh wait, I did tell Arianna she could invite a friend, an obvious error on my part. What the fuck was I thinking?

I watch her from the shadows, remembering the first time I laid eyes on the youngest Pontrelli girl. Yes, girl, she can’t be any older than twenty or twenty-one. Which means back then she was barely eighteen. I inwardly cringe.

She was at a club dancing with her sisters and cousin. My best friend, Roman, only had eyes for his fiancée Sophia, but my gaze latched onto the gorgeous blond who had tits and ass for days. She was the only blond among them, petite, and curvy in all the right places. Then Roman warned me off of her.

For one, she’s much too young for me.

And she’s trouble. Not the fun kind.

Which I mentally note while I watch her pick up a diamond encrusted figurine my grandfather brought back from his travels to India. The piece is utterly priceless.

Stealthily, I approach Ginevra, who seems too lost in the glittering gems to notice her surroundings. I’m right behind her when she drops the figurine into her tiny bag with a soft chuckle. What she finds so amusing, I haven’t a clue. However, I can guarantee her mirth will be short-lived once she realizes she’s been caught.

So she’s not only a gold-digger but also a thief. How intriguing…

No one steals from me and lives to tell about it. Much less chuckle .

With a dazzling smile, she spins on her heel and plows right into my chest. Automatically, my muscles tense at the impact, and my fingers wrap around her upper arms to steady her.

She takes two quick steps back, hiding her clutch behind her back, and slowly her gaze travels up my body to meet mine. Her wide brown eyes are the color of dark chocolate and caramel. Fear skitters through them and I can’t help but smirk. She recognizes me. Good.

Because she’s in trouble now.

“I believe you have something of mine,” I drawl, leaning one shoulder against the wall. As casual as my stance is, my gaze never leaves hers.

“I…” She summons a blindingly bright smile that shows straight white teeth, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Baron.” Her voice is smooth and thick as honey. It oozes over me, filling in all of my crevices, and for a moment I believe her lie—even though I saw her steal the figurine with my own eyes. She’s that convincing.

“I’m talking about the crystal magpie figurine you have in your purse. It’s small, decorated with black and blue-green diamonds. Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit, but that particular piece happens to be a family heirloom. So, I must insist that you return it.”

She blinks, not giving any ground. Audacious.

Then she holds out her little purse. “I swear I don’t have it. You can search my clutch if you’d like, sir.” Again she shoots me that disarming grin. My chest tingles with the strangest sensation, and I shake it off.

I eye her purse. So, she wants to play games? Game on, sweetheart.

I certainly won’t be outsmarted, or duped, by one barely adult girl. I have years of experience on her, which she’ll learn soon enough.

Stepping closer to her, I take the clutch. It’s soft and shiny. A blue satin that perfectly matches the color of her evening gown.

I upend it, emptying the contents on a side table. She lets out a surprised gasp as her belongings scatter. A whole bunch of girly crap falls onto the polished wooden top, but notably missing is my figurine.

Just as I thought. Was it sleight of hand? There’s no way she’d incriminate herself. I know she has the diamond magpie. Where is the only question.

I glance at her, my gaze skims the skin-tight sparkly dress that dips low in the front to reveal her ample cleavage. Any fool would say there’s nowhere else she could have hidden the figurine except for in the bag.

Luckily, I’m no fool.

“See?” she says. “I don’t have whatever you think I stole.”

A wolfish grin spreads across my lips. “Oh, I’m not done searching for it yet.”

“But you emptied my clutch. You can see there’s nothing in there except for what’s mine.”

“I’m done searching your bag, but I’m not done searching you .”

Her smooth brow pinches with confusion. I step closer, until I’m towering over her and then I finally see it, the flicker of comprehension in her eyes. Her lips part as if she’s shocked or perhaps it’s the beginning of a silent protest.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. She brought this on herself.

“Turn around and put your hands on the wall. Now.”

She visibly shivers under my commanding tone. Then lifts her chin and pins me with a glare.

“Go to hell. I’m not going to?—”

“Right now,” I warn.

“You can’t make me?—”

I grab her hips and spin us so her back’s against the wall. Holding her there, I cage her in with my much larger frame. She’s not going anywhere until I’ve thoroughly searched her. My cock stirs at that idea and the heat of her supple body beneath my palms.

“Don’t move.” I run my hands down her hips. The dress ends mid-thigh and below that she’s wearing a pair of strappy gold heels. Certainly nothing’s hiding in her shoes.

Wedging one hand between her legs, and the other on the outside, I slide my palms up her thigh. She stiffens. Her breath catches and she swallows hard. I let my hands do the searching, never dropping my gaze from hers. When I reach the apex of her thighs, I expect to encounter the barrier of her underwear. But there’s no tiny scrap of fabric. She’s bare and smooth beneath her dress.

Fuck me .

Her breath hitches, and my cock grows harder. A mix of desire and fear swims in her brown eyes. Now I have her full attention.

I drop my hands, only to slide them up her other leg, still under the guise of searching for what she stole. A completely unnecessary move at this point. Logically I know that, and I don’t care. The feel of her soft skin beneath my rough palms is too alluring to resist.

This time, as I slide my hands up, she whimpers a soft moan. I take in her flushed cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her chest, liking the way my touch affects her.

When I release her, she reaches for my upper arms to steady herself. Our gazes remain locked as I take her hips, then explore the dip of her waist and the underside of her luscious breasts. I get a sudden, vivid mental image of her tits shaking with each of my powerful thrusts as I fuck her.

No. Not happening. Ever.

I’m well aware of her reputation as a party girl, an easy lay, she’s probably slept with half the city’s bachelors. I’m sure she’s keeping her options open until she comes across the man with the right figure for his net worth.

The very thought makes me want to punish her for being such a little gold-digger. I learned to loathe women like that after my father’s second and third marriages, before he settled down with Yve–the worst of them all.

I consciously shift my hips backward, putting some space between us, so she can’t feel my raging erection. When all I really want to do is tie her up and fuck her until she confesses to her crime–all of her crimes. Too bad that’s not an option. I won’t fall for the temptation.

Her hold on me tightens as I search every inch of her breasts through the thin fabric, but she never protests. Her nipples pebble beneath my thumbs, making my mouth water with the need to suck on her delicious peaks. An urge that I, thankfully, resist.

I run my hand between her cleavage. The actual feel of her soft flesh lights a fire deep in my stomach. We’re so close, our breaths mingle. I inhale the sweet scent of her perfume.

I’ve been with plenty of women, but not one of them has ever affected me the way Ginevra is right now. I’m mesmerized by her shining, glassy eyes. It’s taking every shred of self-control I have to resist biting her parted, pouty lips, the curve of her smooth neck, and her heaving breasts. I want to lick every inch of this woman–then punish her for making me lose control.

The need is visceral. And rather unsettling.

Is it because I’ve told myself she’s forbidden fruit? Too young. Too innocent. Too… tempting.

Or is it?—?

My fingers touch the distinct hardness of clustered diamonds. From her breasts, I pluck the magpie figurine and hold it between us.

“Found it.” My voice comes out strong and surprisingly steady. It belies the whirling of my thoughts, and the twisted, pulsing sensation in my gut. “What do you have to say for yourself? Are you ready to confess your sins?”

She licks her lips. “I—I wasn’t expecting you to be so thorough.”

“I’m always thorough. You can count on that.” My mind fills with all kinds of dirty thoughts involving other ways I could be quite thorough with her tonight.

We continue to stand much too close together. The figurine sits on my open palm between us, my other hand resting on her waist. Her hold has moved to the crook at my elbows. She should be pushing me away, but she’s not. She’s holding on for dear life, like she’s drowning in a fathomless sea and I’m her life line—her only hope.

The next words out of my mouth have me questioning my sanity, because I certainly haven’t thought this through. And I always think things through.

“We both know that you tried to steal from me.” Against my better judgment, I lean closer, noting the floral scent of her shampoo. “No one steals from me and gets away with it. So I’m going to give you a choice, Ginevra, you can either go to jail for your crime—that’s at least two years locked up once I’m done with you in court—or you can agree to be my wife.”