Self-made billionaire Damian Blackwood catches—and seduces!—Hong Kong’s sexiest thief in this first installment of Jackie Ashenden’s Billion $ Bastards trilogy!

My parties are legendary—as is my security. So when Thea Smith almost successfully steals a priceless necklace from my penthouse, I can’t help being impressed by her skill. But I didn’t make my billions letting others take whatever they want and walk away. Instead of calling the police, I’ll unravel the mystery and shatter her tight control—using all the seductive skills I possess.

Vulnerable and strangely innocent, Thea is unlike any thief I’ve ever met. Now that I’ve made her delightfully responsive body mine, I want to show her she deserves better than the life she’s chosen. The more time I spend with her supple limbs wrapped around me, the further she sees past the playboy facade. I know I’m a bastard, but she sees the pain and loneliness in my soul. And I must push her away before she steals my guarded heart...

Harlequin DARE publishes sexy romances featuring powerful alpha heroes and bold, fearless heroines exploring their deepest fantasies.

Four new Harlequin DARE titles are available each month, wherever ebooks are sold!

JACKIE ASHENDEN writes dark, emotional stories with alpha heroes who’ve just gotten the world to their liking only to have it blown wide apart by their kick-ass heroines. She lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, the inimitable Dr. Jax, two kids and two rats. When she’s not torturing alpha males and their gutsy heroines, she can be found drinking chocolate martinis, reading anything she can lay her hands on, wasting time on social media or being forced to go mountain biking with her husband. To keep up-to-date with Jackie’s new releases and other news, sign up to her newsletter at jackieashenden.com.

Also by Jackie Ashenden

The Knights of Ruin

Ruined

Destroyed

Kings of Sydney

King’s Price

King’s Rule

King’s Ransom

The Billionaires Club

The Debt

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Dirty Devil

Jackie Ashenden

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09925-7

DIRTY DEVIL

© 2020 Jackie Ashenden

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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For Veronica. Hope you enjoy this one, too!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE
Thea

I ALWAYS KNEW that breaking into the skyscraper apartment of Damian Blackwood, one of richest men in Hong Kong, would be a risky move. But he had something I wanted, so I had no choice.

His security was insane, though, and the only time I’d been able to get into his apartment unnoticed was during one of his infamous parties, when he himself would be distracted and there would be too many guests wandering around for security staff to discover that there was at least one person in attendance who shouldn’t be there.

Privately, I was pleased with myself that I’d even managed it, since the parties were notoriously difficult to get into, even impossible, for those not in the know. Blackwood liked to keep his parties very, very private and very, very exclusive.

I was not exclusive. I was an unremarkable woman of indeterminate parentage, ordinary in every way. I was someone you wouldn’t look at twice, which was what made me so good at what I did. You couldn’t be a good thief if you were memorable. Or, at least, you didn’t last long if you were.

Still, a lack of invitation hadn’t stopped me from going where I wanted before, and it didn’t stop me now. I’d managed to get hold of an ID and uniform for the catering company dealing with the event, and had distracted security from looking too closely at their staff lists by undoing an extra button on said uniform and bending to grab the pen I’d ‘accidentally’ dropped.

It had worked like a charm. Mr Chen had always told me to use whatever I could to my advantage when it came to jobs, so I did. Being a woman was sometimes a pain, but it came in handy every so often.

Especially because men were idiots.

Now I stood on the huge rooftop terrace of Blackwood’s Central District apartment, trying to balance a tray of glasses and bottles of Cristal in my sweaty palms.

Music drifted in the air, a hard, driving beat, while beautiful and very famous people dressed in high-end couture talked, danced, drank and laughed. Through the heaving crowd partying on the terrace, wait staff like myself moved, dressed in black, distributing eye-wateringly expensive drinks and tiny, exquisite canapés that would satisfy exactly no one’s appetite.

Over by the deep blue of the infinity pool came a splash as some idiot pushed another idiot in, followed by screams of laugher and shrieks. A third idiot—some famous actress in a white cocktail frock, probably worth more than my tiny Mongkok apartment—jumped in too. Then, after a lot of splashing, she held a ball of white fabric overhead to much cheering.

Clearly we’d reached the naked part of the evening.

I’d spent quite a bit of time researching Blackwood’s parties beforehand and apparently anything went. Nakedness. Public sex. Blatant social climbing. Line dancing. It was all out there for anyone to see and join in.

Rich people... They were a whole thing.

Mr Chen, my mentor, had once told me to expect anything when dealing with the very wealthy; that the old saying about absolute power corrupting absolutely was true and that it applied to wealth as well; that you couldn’t trust them as far as you could throw them. Which wasn’t very far.

Not that I needed those lessons he’d drilled into me. There were only two people I trusted in the entire world and one was dead. The other was myself.

I might not be the world’s most beautiful woman, but there was one thing about which I was confident: my ability to slip into a place unnoticed and steal whatever I found there. Though ‘steal’ was kind of a strong word to use for what I did.

Mr Chen called it ‘reacquisition’ and it was his ‘reacquisition’ business that he’d passed on to me after he’d died.

Basically, it involved ‘reacquiring’ stolen or missing items from people who shouldn’t have them and returning them to their rightful owners. It wasn’t technically stealing, as the items had been stolen to start with. You might say that was a job for the police rather than us. But some people didn’t like to involve the law for one reason or another; they preferred a third party. Hence the nice little ‘find and return’ business Mr Chen had worked hard to build up and in which he had trained me.

His last wish before he’d died was for me to keep that business running, his legacy to the world, and as he was the one who’d pulled me off the streets, given me a home and a job, I felt I owed him.

So that was why I was here. On a job. A request had come through via the third party who acted as our intermediary for a necklace called the Red Queen. It had been stolen some twenty years ago and now had miraculously turned up in Damian Blackwood’s possession. Its previous owners wanted it back and they didn’t much care how that happened. Hence hiring me.

Ignoring the shenanigans beside the pool, I glanced once more at the man from whom I was to ‘reacquire’ the piece in order to make sure of his location.

The typical Hong Kong humidity was making me sweaty, my uniform prickling, but I’d learned to ignore all physical discomforts when on a job, and I didn’t let it get to me. Instead, I adjusted my hold on the tray and took a moment to study Blackwood himself.

He was sitting in the corner of the terrace, where a number of couches had been arranged, in the centre of a group of stunningly beautiful, incredibly attentive women, all hanging on his every word.

I wrinkled my nose and tried to be my usual cynical self as I surveyed him. But it was difficult to be my usual cynical self. Because, despite my own good judgement—not to mention my common sense—and no matter that it was a really bad move professionally, I’d somehow developed a bit of a...crush on him.

Embarrassing, yes, and I didn’t like to acknowledge it to myself. And maybe it wasn’t any wonder, given what a very fine specimen of manhood he was—certainly there was a reason why all those women couldn’t take their eyes off him. But still. I should know better than to get all starry-eyed over a good-looking man. Or indeed any man.

Mr Chen had been clear that involvement with anyone in our line of work was out of the question and that had never bothered me. Being an unwanted kid, I was used to being alone, and I’d never met anyone worth wanting to get to know better anyway. And as for sex, well... There was a reason humanity had invented vibrators.

Still, knowing all of that didn’t stop me from being transfixed by the reality of Damian Blackwood himself.

I’d done my usual research, immersing myself in the history of Black and White Enterprises, and Blackwood’s background in particular, studying news articles, looking at photos, watching interviews, the works.

He and his two co-owners, Ulysses White and Everett Calhoun, a Brit and an American respectively, had made huge amounts of money in crypto-currency speculation, initially starting Black and White as an online vault that boasted better security than the banks in Switzerland. They’d enjoyed phenomenal success with it and from there had gone on to build a billion-dollar empire that encompassed finance, import-export, luxury hotels, construction, security and God knew what else. They had their fingers in so many pies even they probably didn’t know which was which.

The three of them were famous—or infamous, depending on how you looked at it—for being totally uncompromising both in business and in their private lives, for living however they wanted and not giving a damn.

Certainly Blackwood didn’t.

He was a womaniser who spent millions on massive parties, his luxury lifestyle the stuff of legend. He was renowned not only for his love of beautiful women but for his love of fine jewels. He was a highly regarded collector and connoisseur of gems, and was constantly being talked about on every news platform and every social media channel there was. The man seemed to thrive on attention, a master of the perfect sound bite and the off-the-cuff witty comment, making much of his humble origins as the son of a Sydney burlesque dancer.

He had the kind of confidence and cocky charm that only a lot of money and extreme good looks could buy, and was pretty much my opposite in every possible way. Which I suppose made it strange that I was so fascinated by him. Then again, maybe that was kind of the point; opposites were supposed to attract, weren’t they?

Not that he’d ever be attracted to me. With any luck he wouldn’t notice me at all.

I stared at him from beneath my lashes, watching his mesmerising smile along with all the other women around him. It was a thing of beauty, caught on the cusp between charming and wicked, promising all kinds of naughty, dirty things, and I found my heart beating a little faster than it had before.

He was dressed in an exquisitely tailored dark blue suit that showed off his long, tall, muscular frame to perfection, and he sat on the couch like a king holding court, the women his adoring courtiers.

His black hair was shaved on the sides of his head to leave a soft, spiky kind of Mohawk on top, highlighting the intensely masculine perfection of his face. He had a jawline so sharp you could cut yourself on it, high cheekbones that would do a Hollywood superstar proud and a long mouth that curled at the ends, pure sin and wickedness. His eyes were silver, the light colour emphasised by the thick black of his lashes, and were just as wicked as his mouth.

A pretty man. Maybe too pretty. At least he would have been if not for the piercing in his left eyebrow and the bright colours of the tattoos that peeked through the open neck of his black shirt.

But those things I already knew about. Those things only added an edge.

What I hadn’t understood until now, what all the articles and the interviews hadn’t told me, was that the real source of his power lay in his charisma. It radiated from him, an unholy mix of charm, confidence and focus, bathing people in its light. Rendering both men and women speechless with adoration.

I wasn’t overstating. It was simply a fact.

Watching him was like watching the sun rise after a dark, cold night.

He was in the middle of telling some ridiculous story, his handsome face full of expression, his silver gaze making eye contact with his rapt audience as he made fluid gestures with his large, long-fingered hands.

I tried to resist him, tried to take refuge in my usual distrust, yet still I found myself edging closer, trying to listen, his charm like a tractor beam reeling me in.

His voice rolled over me, rich and deep. He didn’t have that strange transatlantic accent that some ex-pats had, his Australian accent slight but there. He smiled as he told his story—some nonsense about a woman he’d once known back in Sydney, and her dog and her husband, Damian hiding in the closet.

His audience was enthralled, their eyes shining, laughing as he punctuated the story with jokes, some blatant, some dry.

He was a natural storyteller, weaving magic with his hands, and I nearly laughed myself at some ridiculous aside. Though I stopped the instant I realised what I was doing, appalled at myself.

Stupid.

I was letting myself be dazzled and I shouldn’t. I had a job to do and that wasn’t standing around watching him.

I was here to find the necklace he’d bought at a private auction three days earlier and take it back to its rightful owners, not get distracted by staring at his undeniably pretty face.

Making a few more adjustments to my tray, I kept an eye on Blackwood to make sure he stayed on that cripplingly expensive couch of his, only to freeze in place as he turned his head, the full force of his attention suddenly slamming into me.

The air seemed to thicken, the music fading, the rest of the party falling away, leaving only him, me and the incredible silver of his gaze. There was heat in those eyes, the promise of long, hot, decadent nights in silk sheets, the mysteries of sex revealed...

I couldn’t breathe, abruptly aware of the movement of the air across my skin in the humid night and the scratchy feel of my uniform; of the fabric pulling tight across my breasts and the fast beat of my heart.

Of an ache right down low inside me that felt strangely like...longing.

A dim part of my mind told me that I was being stupid, that he was just a man, nothing special. A good-looking man, sure, but not one I should be losing my head over. And yet... I couldn’t look away from him.

No one had ever looked at me the way he was looking right now. No one had ever even noticed me at all. I was ordinary. Unremarkable. Unmemorable.

I wasn’t a woman a man like him would ever look at twice.

Then he gestured at me, making shock pulse hard in my veins. Oh, my God. What the hell did he want?

You’re standing there dressed as a waitress, holding a tray of drinks. What do you think he wants?

Oh. Right. Yes. The uniform. He didn’t want me, he only wanted a waitress.

Forcing away the effects of his gaze, not to mention the odd dip in my stomach that definitely wasn’t disappointment, I concentrated on making sure my hands didn’t shake as I made my way towards him and his entourage.

The women were all pleading with him to finish his story—he’d stopped at a very important part, apparently—and thank God he looked away from me as I approached, his mouth curling. ‘Patience, ladies. Good things come to those who wait. Now, who else needs a drink?’

I came to a stop in front of him and held out the tray. He rose to his feet in one fluid, athletic movement, towering above me as he picked up the bottle, pouring liberal amounts into the glasses on the tray next to it. He didn’t look at me, too busy talking and laughing with a couple of the women next to him.

The tension that had gathered across my shoulders relaxed a fraction, even as the dip in my stomach intensified. He’d definitely looked at me because I was a waitress and he wanted a drink. No other reason. And just as well, since anonymity was my number one weapon and the reason Mr Chen’s business was so successful.

Go unnoticed. Stay under the radar. That was what he’d always told me and that was what I always did.

But you want to be noticed.

The thought slid through my brain like a snake.

No, that was ridiculous. Sure, being a reacquisition agent made for a lonely kind of existence, and sometimes I felt as though I was a ghost living in the walls of the city, passing by people unseen, leaving behind no trace of my presence. And, yes, there were times when I might have nursed a fantasy or two, late at night in my bed. Of having a lover. Someone to touch me and hold me when I was sad and lonely. Someone with whom to laugh and share the good times.

But Mr Chen had been very clear that it wasn’t possible to have that and be in the business I was in. Draw too much attention from anyone, and there was the risk that I’d find myself in a jail cell.

I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t put Mr Chen’s business and my livelihood in danger just because I was lonely. Which made the answer simple: I just wouldn’t be lonely. And so far I hadn’t been.

Shooting Blackwood a glance as he smiled at yet another adoring woman, I steadied my grip on the tray. It was slightly intimidating being this close to him after months of seeing him on a screen or in magazines. He was so much taller than I’d expected, even though the Internet had been very helpful as to his height and weight—six foot two, ninety kilos. He was a lot broader too. When he moved, his suit jacket pulled across his shoulders, highlighting the heavy muscle beneath it, and I could see by the way his trousers sat low on his lean hips that he probably didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.

He laughed as one of the women made a joke, and I felt the vibration of that laugh settle right down low inside me, a deep, purring, sexy sound.

No wonder he was a terrific man-whore. Who could resist him?

You, for a start.

Yes, well, luckily for me, resisting him wasn’t going to be an issue, as he hadn’t looked at me again since I’d come over with the drinks.

Not once.

Which was good and definitely not in any way a disappointment.

I was still staring at him and silently judging the people around him for their open adoration, when he turned and looked at me again.

And, as it had before, the impact of his gaze moved through me like slow, sensual lightning.

Then his mouth curled and he winked.

Shock rooted me to the spot and I gaped, unable to stop myself, but he’d already looked away, turning that brilliant, sexy smile onto someone else.

It was as if I’d been under a spotlight and the beam had shifted, plunging me into darkness and leaving me blinded.

My heart raced and I struggled to get a breath.

Not good, fool. Not good at all.

No, it wasn’t. I was staring at him like a rabbit in the headlights and if I didn’t shift my butt he was going to notice me again. And not in a good way.

Because the one thing I wasn’t supposed to do was gain his attention.

Damn it. I’d been so confident in my own ordinariness that I’d thought he’d never even look at me. Apparently, I was wrong.

It doesn’t matter. Get moving.

No, it really didn’t. After all, I wasn’t here to get his attention. I was here to get in, find the Red Queen, take it and get out again. Simple.

On that bracing thought, I gripped my tray and turned away from sexy Damian Blackwood and his entourage.

And got on with the business of robbing him blind.

CHAPTER TWO
Damian

I SAT BACK on the couch with another glass of champagne and watched the sweet-faced little waitress who’d given me a pissy look disappear into the crowd with her now-empty tray.

It wasn’t often that women looked at me as if they’d like to punch me in the face. Men, sure. Women, no.

She’d been standing there staring at me, a watchful, still point in the chaos of the party around her, which should have made my eyes slide right over her. Yet the opposite had happened. Almost as if her stillness was the reason my attention had been drawn to her.

Her eyes had been very dark and absolutely unreadable, like the surface of a deep lake I couldn’t see the bottom of, and I’d found that interesting. So I’d winked at her, purely to see the surface of that lake ripple a little, and ripple it did; her shock at my attention had been loud and clear.

That she’d clearly not expected me to notice her was obvious, and I might have found that amusing if there hadn’t also been something else about her that had bothered me. Something I hadn’t been able to put my finger on. Something I should have been aware of...

But the ladies around me were begging me to finish the bullshit story I’d been telling them, and I couldn’t be bothered figuring out what the issue with the waitress was. Not when my public was demanding a performance.

I took a sip of my champagne and put it down—fucking hate the stuff—and leaned forward, continuing with my story. The ladies were thoroughly enjoying it, and I was thoroughly enjoying pleasing them, especially when they all erupted into laughter as I punctuated the end with a very off-colour joke.

That laughter was music to my ears, making me smile. Because if there was one thing that made life on this shitty planet worth living it was making a woman laugh. It was almost as good as making a woman come, and since I was extremely skilled at doing both I indulged myself and them as often as humanly possible. Occasionally at the same time.

I sat back on the couch, watching the ladies around me, satisfied that they were all having a good time. Then I scanned the crowd in general, making sure everyone else was as well, as I took my parties very seriously.

They were a chance for guests to let their hair down without worrying about the press or whether their name would be plastered all over the Internet the next morning. A chance to cut loose and relax with no rules and no judgement.

Correction. There were two rules: nothing illegal and no one took advantage of anyone.

I policed those two things religiously, my security staff confiscating any illegal substances, not to mention phones or other recording devices, and kicking out any person stupid enough to think they could take advantage of anyone else.

Only people with a verified invite could attend, plus I personally vetted all staff working during the event so that...

Wait a second.

I narrowed my gaze in the direction the waitress had gone, going over her face in my memory. It was eidetic, so it was impossible for me to forget—both a blessing and a goddamn curse.

Small, with a sweet, heart-shaped face. Short, dark-brown hair in a straight glossy bob grazing a sharp, determined chin. Black almond-shaped eyes. Not pretty in the traditional sense but with a certain something.

I mentally compared her features to the list of staff photos I’d requested from the Black and White Enterprises catering company handling the party tonight.

No match.

If she wasn’t on the staff list then that could only mean one thing: she was a fucking gate crasher.

Shit. That was the last thing I wanted to deal with, especially as she’d probably end up being a reporter, because there were always reporters trying to gate crash my goddamn parties.

Tonight was supposed to be about celebrating me finally getting my hands on the Red Queen, a necklace I’d been chasing down for the last three months and had managed to buy at a private auction a few days ago.

I’d seen a picture of it in an article on famous jewels about two years back and had decided that, as rubies had been my mother’s favourite stone and I knew it was a piece she would have loved, I wanted to add it to my collection.

It would be the perfect advertisement for the jewellery auction that was to be part of the launch of the Black and White Foundation, a new non-profit organisation that Ulysses, Everett and I were hoping to get off the ground. I was putting up some of my more famous pieces as a fundraiser, and hopefully some of the proceeds would be going towards the new cancer research facility I’d set up back in Australia.

Yeah, jewellery might be a strange thing for a man like me to collect, but I liked a bit of glitter, especially against a woman’s skin.

Call it a holdover from my childhood, watching my mother and her friends get ready for their performances at the burlesque club where they’d worked. I hadn’t been allowed to see the show, but I’d loved watching them get ready. My always happy, always laughing mother, gossiping as she painted her face and did her hair, making herself look beautiful. The smell of greasepaint and hairspray in the air, the sparkle of jewelled and feathered costumes glittering in the light.

I had been a serious, quiet kid and she had taken her job of making the hand-to-mouth existence we led back then very seriously, trying to make it fun. Trying to get me to smile. It had mostly worked.

Until she’d died of cancer, of course.

But I didn’t think about those days. Instead, I buried them under glitter, good times and the joy of hunting down the perfect jewel. And the Red Queen had led me on quite a hunt. I’d loved every fucking second of stalking that piece down, but now it was safe in the vault in my office, I was going to have to find something else to turn on my hunter’s instincts...

That waitress, perhaps?

Ah, fuck. That’s right. The damn waitress.

Pushing myself up and out of the couch, I excused myself to the ladies and made my way through the crowd towards Clarence, the head of my personal security team, checking on people as I went like the good host I was.

Everett was here—he’d been in Hong Kong for one of his hush-hush meetings—and he gave me a look from where he was standing by the pool, lifting a blond brow. If Ulysses had been here, he would have scowled, but Ulysses wasn’t here. He was in London, where he always was, managing Black and White’s money from his bank of computers, boring bastard that he was.

Not that Everett was any more exciting. He was a man of few words and fewer smiles, and took his role of being responsible for company-wide security far more seriously than he should have. The guy really needed to lighten up.

I shook my head to indicate everything was fine and he gave a nod, turning his attention back to the action in the pool, where a famous actor and an equally famous musician had got rid of their clothing and were playing a game of naked tag.

Looked like fun. Sadly, I had business to attend to before I could join in.

I spoke to Clarence, gave him a description of the waitress and he assured me it would be dealt with. Then I stepped inside the penthouse—one of many I had around the world, though this one was my favourite—moving through the sleek, open-plan spaces full of people to my private office. I unlocked it and stepped inside, closing the door for some quiet, and took out my phone to give the catering company director a fucking piece of my mind.

I couldn’t have people I didn’t know and hadn’t invited wandering around my party, not given the whole reason the parties worked was because of my stringent privacy rules. Not to mention the security concerns involved.

Still, Everett only hired the best, so it probably wouldn’t take Clarence and his boys long to locate my little waitress and show her the door.

I hadn’t bothered getting my office redone after I’d bought the apartment, and consequently it was all pale wood and pale carpet, a Swedish furniture designer’s fucking wet dream. Not to my taste. Good thing I didn’t spend much time in here—I didn’t like to sit still, and preferred to dictate while I was doing something else rather than being tied to a desk.

Wandering over to the window, I paused beside it as I reached to grab my phone out of my pocket.

The room was sound-proofed, but I could still feel the heavy beat of the music through the thick, pale carpet on the floor. Neon-stained light from the city outside shone through the office’s windows and over the pale wood of my desk.

Not quite hiding the tip of someone’s foot sticking out from under it.

I went very, very still, the muscles in my shoulders tightening.

It had been years since I’d had to deal with a physical threat, not since money had taken me away from the clubs and the security jobs I’d once worked to pay for my sister’s schooling. But, even if I hadn’t had an eidetic memory, I’d still have remembered how to deal with said threat. It usually involved me picking up the person involved by the scruff of their neck and throwing them bodily out of the door. And making sure they didn’t bother me or mine again.

Slowly, I got my phone out, making it look as if I was staring down at the screen and not at the tip of the foot sticking out from under my desk.

It was small and encased in plain black leather. So, not a guy, then.

I tilted my head, also spotting an edge of black fabric. It was as plain as the leather of the shoe and it looked cheap.

Who’d be wearing plain shoes and cheap fabric to one of my parties?

It wasn’t hard to figure out, not when there were at least five or more people wearing exactly that combination, all of them circulating with trays of food and drink.

The catering staff.

‘If you’re looking for more Cristal,’ I said calmly to my little waitress, because of course it was her, ‘You won’t find any under my desk.’

She didn’t move.

Was she trying to pretend I hadn’t seen her?

Irritation sat in my gut. Fucking security should have picked up on anyone reckless or stupid enough to try and get into one of my parties, but clearly they hadn’t. And now it was my problem to deal with.

Everett was going to have some explaining to do, that was for sure, because not only had she somehow crashed my party, she’d also managed to get into my private goddamn office. My private locked goddamn office.

Which changed things. That lock should have kept out even the most professional criminal and yet some random waitress had managed to unlock it and slip inside.

No. That wasn’t happening. And this woman wasn’t a waitress. I’d bet my billions on it.

If she’d been a guy I’d have reached down, hauled him out and dragged that sorry motherfucker to Clarence myself. But she wasn’t a guy. She was a woman; I’d never touched a woman in anger and never would.

Still, there were other methods.

‘Don’t bother hiding,’ I said coolly. ‘I can see your foot. You’ve also got approximately five seconds to get the fuck out from under there before I call security.’

There was another moment of silence.

Then the little foot shifted, there was a rustling sound and a figure moved out from under the shelter of the desk, straightening up as she got to her feet.

Sure enough, it was the waitress.

The waitress who wasn’t on the catering company’s staff list.

I took another long look at her.

She was small, the top of her head just about equal to my shoulders, her figure in the catering company uniform lush and curvy. She smoothed the plain black dress nervously, the neon from the city outside shining directly on her face.

Her eyes were the colour of dark, bittersweet chocolate, tilted up slightly at the ends like a cat’s. She also had a strong jaw, a determined chin and an adorably upturned nose. Her mouth was wide and generous, her skin smooth as old ivory, and her hair was the glossy brown of chestnuts.

Unconventional, that was for sure. Which from my point of view was far more intriguing than beautiful. When it came to jewels, flawless stones were supposed to be the finest and most expensive, but I preferred my gems to have irregularities. It made them much more interesting.

‘Uh...hi,’ she said, her voice low with a pleasant husk to it, her accent very definitely English. ‘Guess you didn’t expect me to be in here, right?’

I lifted a brow. ‘What gave it away?’

A nervous-looking smile turned her full mouth. ‘I’m so sorry. The door was open and I thought it was the kitchen and I—’

‘No, it wasn’t.’

She blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

‘The door.’ I kept my voice calm. ‘It wasn’t open.’

Something flickered in her eyes, something that didn’t fit with that uncertain smile or the way she was nervously smoothing her uniform. It was gone the next second, but I was good at reading people and I knew what it was. I’d seen it in her gaze out on the terrace.

She wasn’t nervous. She was angry. And no doubt it was because she’d been discovered.

If she’d genuinely been a waitress, I’d have ushered her out, called her supervisor and had a few words.

Except she wasn’t a waitress.

I didn’t know what she was. But I sure as shit was going to find out.

Calling Clarence immediately and having him deal with it was the next logical step, but I didn’t want to involve him. I didn’t know what this woman was here for. She wasn’t likely to be a reporter; I revised my earlier suspicion, because if she had been she would have been out there surreptitiously taking pictures of the famous naked people having fun around the pool; she wouldn’t be in here, hiding under my desk. And, apart from anything else, reporters generally didn’t have the skills required to get through the lock on my office door.

No, I wanted to deal with this personally.

‘Oh, it really was,’ she said, her forehead creasing. ‘You must have forgotten to shut it or something.’

Which might have worked if I hadn’t been the one person in a million who never forgot a single fucking thing.

Slowly, I shook my head. ‘The door was shut. And secured with an extremely sophisticated electronic lock.’

Another flicker in her eyes—more anger, and this time the tiniest touch of what I thought was uncertainty. It was gone as quickly as it had come, to be replaced with something that looked calculating. Almost as if she was watching me and gauging my reaction.

Fuck, who was this woman?

There was a quality to her that held me like the light catching a particularly fine diamond. Except she didn’t glitter like a diamond, not the way the women waiting for me on the terrace did, sparkly, showy and completely transparent. No, this woman didn’t catch the light at all. Unlike them, she was opaque, like a black pearl. Just as beautiful and just as fine, but a whole shitload more mysterious.

Diamonds were showy stones, and there was a time and a place for showy. Right now, though, I was more interested in mysterious.

Especially the mysterious way she’d managed to get into my fucking office.

There was a time for charm and then there was a time for seriousness.

‘Sugar,’ I said gently. ‘That five seconds? You’ve now got two to explain just what the fuck you’re doing here.’

Her hands twisted in front of her. ‘You really don’t believe I was trying to find the kitchen?’

I smiled and this time I didn’t bother making it pleasant. ‘Try again.’

CHAPTER THREE
Thea

SUGAR. HE’D CALLED me Sugar. As if that wasn’t patronising at all.

Him calling you Sugar is the least of your problems right now.

Controlling my instinctive bristle, I tried to slow the fight-or-flight adrenaline rush that had burst through my veins the minute I’d heard his deep voice tell me that he could see me as I hid under his desk.

I took a silent breath to get control of the anger and spike of fear, forcing my emotions down the way Mr Chen had taught me.

I’d never been caught, not once in all the years I’d been working with Mr Chen, and it was a point of pride. My ability to slip into a place unnoticed and slip out again, shadowy as a ghost, was what made me so good at what I did.

Getting caught so pathetically easily was a rookie mistake and I should be ashamed of myself. I just hadn’t expected him to come in here. I’d thought he’d stay out on the terrace, entertaining his glorious public.

An error of judgment, clearly. I needed to be on my guard.

‘Try again?’ I repeated, attempting to sound like a confused member of staff who didn’t realise what she’d done wrong. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

He was standing not far away, his back to the windows and the magnificent view out over Hong Kong’s financial district, neon outlining his tall, broad silhouette to perfection.

Damn him. Why had he come in here? I’d only just started to look for the safe before I’d heard the sounds of someone coming into the room. There hadn’t been time for me to find somewhere decent to hide or check if there was another exit. The only place I’d been able to see had been under his desk, so that was where I’d bolted.

Not at all what I’d planned.

I struggled to pull myself together. Getting caught would put Mr Chen’s whole business at risk, not to mention destroying the reputation for complete discretion he’d built over the years, and it would be all my fault. Which meant I had to fix it and fast.

‘I think you do.’ Blackwood tilted his head towards the light, neon sliding over his perfect features. ‘And don’t give me any more of that trying to find the kitchen bullshit.’

Damn. Damn. Damn.

There was no trace of his charming smile now, only the hard gleam in his eyes. With the silver ring in his eyebrow and the tantalising glimpse of his tattoos from beneath his black shirt, he looked...dangerous as hell.

And sexier than the devil himself.

Even more irritated at myself, I shoved away that particular thought and reached into the pocket of my uniform, bringing out the staff ID I’d forged and waving it in the air. ‘But I’m with the company. Check my ID.’

He didn’t even look at it. ‘I vet all the staff who come to these parties personally and you’re not on the staff list.’

Shit. I hadn’t known he was so hands-on with his ridiculous parties. I’d imagined he’d hire some kind of party planner.

‘Who are you?’ His voice had lost the lazy warmth I’d heard out on the terrace while he’d been telling his story. Now it had an edge creeping into it. ‘You’re not a reporter, not given how you managed to pick my lock. How did you do that, by the way?’

Quickly, I sorted through my options. I could brazen it out and insist on being with the company, but since he personally vetted his staff that probably wouldn’t work. And, given the lock situation, as he’d already said, I couldn’t pretend to be a reporter. Not when the lock had been heavy duty and somewhat difficult to open even for a person of my skills.

The only option I had left was...stalker fan desperate to catch a glimpse of her idol. Did billionaires have stalker fans? I guess there was only one way to find out.

I let out a breath, as if I was disappointed. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘You win. I’m not actually with the catering company. But I’m not a reporter either.’

The gleam in his silver eyes was like a blade and something twisted deep inside me. This man was a different beast from the charming playboy out on the terrace. Honed and sharp as a dagger, and just as lethal.

It seemed at odds with the faint hint of his expensive, subtle cologne I could scent in the air, all warm spice and sunshine.

My heartbeat tripled, my breath catching. And it wasn’t with fear.

There was something incredibly exciting about this—about him. About how different he was right now from the man I’d seen on the terrace, and I wasn’t sure why I liked that. I just did.

Maybe it was the danger factor. It had been a while since I’d had a job quite as challenging as this one was turning out to be. Still, I couldn’t afford to get too carried away. If I didn’t get it together he’d go straight to the police and there would go Mr Chen’s business. The business I’d promised him I’d take care of before he died.

‘I’m waiting, Sugar.’ Blackwood didn’t sound impatient and yet that edge was sharpening in the air around him by the second.

I twisted my hands in front of me, trying to project nervousness, and to be honest I didn’t have to try all that hard.

‘Okay, so this is really embarrassing.’ I shifted on my feet. ‘I’m here because I... I wanted to see you.’

He lifted his pierced brow, the ring in it glinting. ‘See me?’

Maybe billionaires didn’t have stalker fans. Surely he would know what I was talking about?

‘Yeah.’ I cleared my throat, pushing on regardless. ‘I...just think you’re so amazing. I read everything about you, see all the interviews you’ve given. I mean, that interview you gave for Vanity Fair was just...’ I injected as much breathlessness into my voice as I could, which for some reason didn’t seem difficult. ‘Anyway, my cousin was sick of hearing about it. She bet me a hundred bucks I couldn’t get into your party and so I... Well...’ I gave a nervous laugh and waved towards the door.

His expression didn’t change, his silver gaze sliding over me, the pressure cool as metal on my skin. ‘Is that a fact? And I suppose you just happened to be an excellent forger, not to mention an expert in breaking and entering?’

Oh, crap.

He’s called you. Time for plan B.

That was plan B. I didn’t have any other plans. Not when I hadn’t expected to get caught.

Fear twisted inside me, but I fought it as I sorted through more options, forcing myself not to panic.

Hadn’t Mr Chen always said to use anything and everything to your advantage when it came to difficult situations? Because there was one option I hadn’t considered yet: using my femininity. Blackwood was, after all, a playboy who’d apparently never met a woman he didn’t want to take to bed. And I’d done it before, with the security guy and the whole undoing the top button routine, and it had worked.

Yes, but he’s not your standard security guy. He’s a connoisseur and you’re not exactly Scarlett Johansson.

This was sadly true. But I didn’t have a choice. It was either try it or it was a jail cell for me.

So I took a couple of slow steps towards him, allowing my hips to sway, ‘Does it matter?’ Much to my annoyance, I didn’t have to fake the husky sound in my voice as much as I’d thought I would. ‘I’m an expert in other things too. Would you like to know what they are?’

He didn’t move, watching me come closer. ‘I feel certain you’re about to tell me.’

I stopped inches away from him, my heart hammering in my chest. He was so very tall, that big, muscular body oh, so close. The black cotton of his shirt gave a hint at the hard musculature of his chest and I found my attention wandering, staring at him. He’d left the top couple of buttons undone, giving me a close-up glimpse of those tattoos, the colours bright reds, golds and blues.

Apparently that trick works on women too.

I gritted my teeth and tipped my head back to look up at him, making myself hold his gaze, listening to the beat of my heart get louder and louder in my ears.

I wasn’t used to people looking at me. I wasn’t used to people noticing I even existed. Yet now Damian Blackwood hadn’t just noticed me; he was looking right at me with so much intense focus I could hardly breathe.

Being unseen and unnoticed had never bothered me before—at least, I hadn’t let it bother me. But it wasn’t until now, with the gaze of the world’s most beautiful man on me, that I realised actually I was bothered by it.

It made me feel cold. Because it was cold being a shadow. Cold and lonely. And he was like...the sun. Like summer. The promise of light, warmth and everything I hadn’t known I was missing.

You’re insane. Remember who he is and don’t get carried away.

‘Are you going to seduce me, Sugar?’ His voice was soft and deep, and I could feel that heat in it now, the cold edge fading, leaving behind it something that sounded a hell of a lot like amusement. ‘I mean, I assume that’s why you’re looking at me like that.’

Damn it. The bastard was seeing every play I made.

Shoving away my weird emotional reaction to him, I lifted a brow, consciously copying him, dropping the ‘stalker fan’ nonsense. ‘I’m looking at you like what? You’ll have to be clear, Mr Blackwood.’

And strangely, as if he’d simply been waiting for me to drop the act all along, he smiled that wonderful smile, slow and devastating. ‘Oh, I can be clear, Sugar. I can be very clear. You want to give me a blow job. Or maybe a quick fuck on my desk. Anything to distract me, right?’

Electricity fizzed in my blood. I hadn’t expected him to see through me. I hadn’t expected any kind of challenge at all and I...liked it. But I had to be careful. He could steal control of the situation away from me so easily and I couldn’t let him do that.

I took the last step so I was almost touching him, looking up from underneath my lashes. ‘I could do any and all of those things,’ I said huskily. ‘If you think it’ll work?’

That blinding, wicked smile deepened. ‘It might. I guess the only way you’ll know is to give it a try.’

He was goading me, I was certain of it, because that beautiful smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. That hard gleam was still there. A challenge. And I knew I shouldn’t respond to it, but what else could I do? My only other option was to turn and run, and I didn’t think he’d let me get far.

If you play your cards right, you might have some time to search for the necklace later.

Good point. I could seduce him and that would at least mean he’d forget about calling security and throwing me out, wouldn’t it? And, if I was very good, maybe I could even convince him to let me stay the night, which would then give me time to find and take that damn necklace.

You’d have to be very good, though. He’s used to experience.

Which I didn’t have. Then again, I was a quick learner. And I’d done my share of looking at sexy videos on the Internet when Mr Chen hadn’t been around. I had some idea of what to do.

Blackwood’s scent filled the air, the heat of his body so close, and my palms itched with a very real desire to touch him.

It wouldn’t be a hardship to seduce him. He was beautiful and, according to all the gossip columns, extraordinarily good in bed.

An unremarkable virgin seducing the billionaire playboy? Since when does that happen?

Cold fingers of doubt caught at me, but I forced them away. I couldn’t hesitate—that was when mistakes were made, as Mr Chen used to say. Once you’d made a decision you had to fully commit to it.

So I took that final step, holding his gaze with mine. ‘Let’s find out, then, shall we?’ I said and, putting my hands on his lean hips, I pushed him up against the windows.

I could feel his heat through the wool of his suit trousers and hard muscle too, a tensile strength that made my mouth go dry.

A silver flame burned bright in his eyes.

We stared at each other, the atmosphere around us getting denser and denser, more electric with every second that passed. As if a storm was gathering around us, full of lightning and thunder.

A storm about to break.

This is a mistake.

The thought was fleeting, but I ignored it. I was committed now, and the way he was looking at me, as if he really saw me, with that wicked smile and the gleam in his eyes...

It was addictive. It made me feel like I wasn’t a ghost. That I was real.

‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ he drawled, the dark, hot thread winding through his voice making me shiver. ‘Because it looks like you do. And I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings.’

He was so hot. His heat glowed against my palms like the embers of a fire and suddenly, desperately, I wanted to press myself against him, have him warm me up.

‘What kind of misunderstandings?’ I tried to sound cool, but knew I was failing. ‘I don’t think blow jobs are all that confusing. At least not to a man like you.’

His laugh was a soft, deep rumble in his chest, as wicked as his smile. ‘A man like me,’ he echoed. ‘And you know what that is?’

Of course I knew. He was a womaniser. A playboy. A party animal. He threw money around like it meant nothing at all and probably treated people the same way. Which was fine. In fact, it was perfect.

I could seduce him, spend the night with him. Get the necklace and then go. Besides, he must do this all the time. I would be just another woman to him; he probably wouldn’t even remember my face come morning.

He smelled like heaven and the glitter in his eyes was making my mind go blank, a low throb starting up between my thighs.

My hands tightened on his hips as I leaned in close, meeting the challenge in his stare full on. ‘Of course I know,’ I murmured. ‘But I’m always happy to have a few pointers.’

‘Sugar, if you know already then what are you waiting for?’ His smile set fire to something inside me, making it burst into flames. ‘Get down on your knees and show me what you’ve got.’

CHAPTER FOUR
Damian

I WAS SURE the little gate-crasher-waitress-thief wouldn’t take up my challenge. Not only was I a complete stranger to her, but I was also the one who’d interrupted her in the middle of whatever she was doing in my office.

And, despite the fire flickering in her dark eyes, I was pretty confident she’d stop short of actually giving me a goddamn blow job.

A pity. Because, despite how pissed off I was at the way she kept lying to me, the moment she’d pushed me up against the windows, her delicate hands on my hips, every rational fucking thought vanished from my brain.

I hadn’t felt chemistry this strong in for ever.

There had always been women in my life and some I’d been really attracted to. But not like this.

I wasn’t sure what it was, whether it was her lush figure and unconventional beauty, or whether it was more about that watchful stillness she had to her. That cool, quiet lake, tempting me to dive in as if it was a hot summer’s day.

Or maybe it was just because I had no idea who she was or what she was doing here, and she wasn’t giving anything away.

Possibly it was all three.

Whatever, I was fascinated. Absolutely bloody riveted.

I hadn’t thought I liked complicated women, but apparently I was wrong, since I was certainly intrigued by this one.

I wanted to know who she was and why she was here. Why she was pretending to be someone she wasn’t and why she’d been hiding under my desk in the first place.

I wanted to know what was going on behind those lovely, unreadable black eyes, because the glimpses I’d got so far had been of heat and, yeah, I was pretty fucking interested in that.

Then she dropped to her knees in front of me and every other thought vanished from my brain.

Okay, so I was wrong. She would take up my challenge.

My heart kicked, my dick hardening.

Her hands slid slowly from my hips to my thighs, and I could feel the heat of her palms through the wool of my suit trousers.

Holy shit.

I caught my breath. This was a problem.

Of course, I shouldn’t have been baiting her the way I had, but hell, I hadn’t been able to resist it. There was undeniable physical chemistry between us like a slow-burning fire, banked embers smouldering away, getting hotter the nearer she got to me. Until one breath of wind and the whole thing would go up in flames.

Fucking hot.

I liked the hungry way she looked at me and, unlike her nervous waitress and breathless fan acts, I was pretty sure that was real.

But what I didn’t like was the fact that she probably wouldn’t be getting ready to suck my dick right now if I hadn’t caught her hiding out under my desk.

‘Do this a lot, hmm?’ I asked. ‘Suck off complete strangers?’

Colour tinged her cheekbones, making her pretty eyes glow. Her ivory skin had the most incredible lustre, like the finest, most expensive of pearls. Did that go all the way down? If I took off that cheap uniform, uncovered the rest of her, would I find that lustre all over her lush little body?

My cock was all in, the dirty bastard.

‘Oh, all the time.’ She lifted her hands to the button of my trousers and they were trembling slightly.

So that was a fucking lie. She did not do this all the time. Which, sadly for me and my cock, meant I had to put a stop to it. Because I wasn’t going to take advantage of some pretty little thing, no matter what she was doing in my office.

I reached down and put a hand over hers.

She blinked, genuine surprise flickering in her eyes, which was satisfying. Clearly she’d been expecting me to settle back and enjoy the ride, no questions asked.

‘What?’ Her surprise morphed into uncertainty.

I shook my head, keeping her hands trapped. ‘Not tonight, Josephine.’

‘What do you mean, not tonight?’ She blinked. ‘I thought you said—’

‘I did. But I changed my mind.’

She didn’t move, kneeling at my feet and studying me. Her hands were warm beneath my palms, the slight pressure of them against my stomach making me aware that my dick was not happy with me stopping her.

Too bad. It would live.

‘Just to be clear,’ she said, ‘So we don’t have any “misunderstandings”. You don’t want me to give you a blow job?’

‘No. Like I said, I changed my mind.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m a lot of things, Sugar. But I’m not a man who takes advantage of women.’ I gave the back of her hand a reassuring stroke with my thumb. ‘Even women who break into my office and lie straight to my face.’

Another flicker in her eyes, and this time it was definitely fear.

It wasn’t an emotion I liked to see in a woman’s face.

‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ I said before she could reply, giving her another stroke to calm her. ‘But you broke in here. And I can’t have—’

She pulled one hand out from under mine and without hesitation laid her warm palm directly over my fly and squeezed.

I jerked as lightning shot through me in response, jagged and sharp, igniting sparks in my blood and making my stupid dick very happy indeed.

Fucking hell.

‘Naughty girl,’ I said roughly. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Her lashes fluttered, thick, black and silky. ‘Seems to me like some parts of you haven’t changed their minds.’

Jesus. Determined little thing, wasn’t she?

‘Yeah, but those parts aren’t in charge.’ I pressed her palm against me so she couldn’t move it. Which was probably a mistake, given how good the pressure felt. ‘On your feet.’

But she stayed where she was. Again.

‘Oh, come on,’ she murmured. ‘What kind of playboy says no to a blow job?’ And she gave my dick another squeeze, as if to prove her point.

More lightning strikes of pleasure shot through me, bright and intense, making my breath catch.

Holy fuck. I’d never had a reaction like this to a woman handling my cock. What the hell was she doing to me? And why her?

I tried to pull myself together, pressing down hard on her hand so she couldn’t move it. She was staring up at me, giving me a smoky look, yet I hadn’t missed that shake in her fingers as she’d touched me. She might act as though she’d seduced thousands of men, but I’d bet all my billions that she hadn’t.

‘I know what you’re doing,’ I said. ‘But I’m afraid that shit’s not going to fly. I prefer a blow job where everyone’s into it and no one has any ulterior motives except to get naked, understand?’

Her brows rose. ‘And yet you’re still standing here.’

Fuck.

She’s got you.

I opened my mouth to respond—though Christ knew what I was going to say—when she leaned forward, pressing her tight, warm body against my legs. ‘You don’t know me. Getting naked might be exactly what I want to do.’ She was soft against me, and hot, and then she leaned farther in, brushing her mouth over the back of my hand. ‘Shall I get naked for you, Mr Blackwood? Is that what you’d like?’

Mr Blackwood.

It shouldn’t have made any difference. I had women say that kind of shit to me all the time. But there was something about this particular woman... She’d gone from frightened waitress, to nervous stalker, to practised seductress in the space of five minutes and damn if that didn’t make me even more fascinated than I already was.

Which one was the real her? Was any of them the real her? Or was she someone different? Was the real woman hiding deep inside, just waiting for the right man to come and find her?

Desire and fascination wound together, tightening their grip on me.

It had been a long time since I’d had a woman like this one. A woman I couldn’t read and didn’t know just by looking at her. A very long time...

Yeah, and you discovered her hiding under your desk, don’t forget. Not only do you have no idea who she is, you also have no idea what she’s doing here.

This was true. And security was an issue when you were as rich as I was. Which meant letting myself get side-tracked like this was the height of stupidity.

I stared down into her bittersweet chocolate eyes, saw the glaze of heat in them. Her pupils were dilated, the pulse at the base of her lovely throat fast, all the classic signs of physical arousal.

She wasn’t faking this, that was for sure.

Keeping one hand over hers against my fly, I reached down with the other, taking her chin in my fingers and gripping her. ‘I don’t sleep with women who don’t want me,’ I said flatly, holding her gaze so she knew how serious I was. ‘And I fucking hate being used.’

Her chin got a stubborn slant, the muscles in her jaw tightening. ‘I’m not using you.’

‘Sure you are. You’re using me—or rather my cock—as a nice little distraction technique.’

For a second she said nothing. Then her face emptied of the flirty expression that had been there before, the mask of the practised seductress dropping. ‘Okay, so maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s what I was planning on doing.’ Her eyes were very dark in her pale face, but there was no mistaking the heat in them. ‘Except, now, I just want you.’

I gritted my teeth because, shit, this wasn’t a mask now. The truth was all laid out for me to see in her beautiful eyes and in the raw note in her voice.

She did want me. And my cock liked that far too much for its own good—or mine, for that matter.

You should be calling Clarence, not thinking about taking her up on her offer.

This was sadly true. She was a serious security breach and one I couldn’t let slide.

I stroked my thumb over the line of her jaw, enjoying the warm, silky feeling of her skin, watching her eyes widen fractionally as I did so. ‘That all sounds very convincing,’ I said. ‘And perhaps you’re telling the truth. But I’ve got a lot of enemies. And you’re here where you’re not supposed to be, which can lead me to several conclusions, if you catch my drift.’

‘What conclusions?’

‘Oh, conclusions such as you being an assassin sent to kill me.’

‘No.’ Her throat moved as I touched her, a convulsive swallow, but she didn’t pull away. ‘I’m not here to kill you. If I was, you’d be dead already.’

I laughed at that. ‘So sure of yourself. I like confidence in a woman. Okay, so if you’re not here to kill me, maybe you’re here to rob me instead. Is that it? Have I got something you want?’

She didn’t answer, turning her head suddenly, and before I could move her lips had closed around my thumb.

My breath caught. Hard. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue tracing the tip of my thumb, her gaze on mine. Watching me. Gauging my response.

Little witch. She could see what she was doing to me and, unfortunately, being a man meant I couldn’t hide it. Not that I particularly wanted to hide it, because quite honestly, I was starting to get past caring.

I didn’t often deny myself what I wanted and I couldn’t see any reason to deny myself now. Or her, for that matter, given she’d made it very clear she wanted to do this.

And, really, how much could she get up to on her knees in front of me?

My brain was shutting down, all the blood in my body heading straight to my goddamn cock. And all I was conscious of was the heat of her mouth and the touch of her wicked tongue on my skin. Imagining how it would feel if she had that tongue touching my dick instead.

‘Minx,’ I drawled. ‘You think I’m that easy?’

A stupid thing to say. Of course I was that easy.

She didn’t speak, just tightened her lips around my thumb and began to suck. The gentle pressure felt fan-fucking-tastic and it was all I could do to keep my breathing under control.

So much for finding out who she is.

I almost smiled. Oh, I’d find out; no doubt about it. Afterwards.

This mysterious creature, creeping into my office to take whatever it was she was here to take, thinking she could distract me with a good old-fashioned blow job?

Yeah, not happening.

This was my territory, and seduction was my expertise, and she’d given away one vital advantage: she’d let me know that she wanted me.

Well, I was going to use that.

It was time to show her exactly who she was dealing with.

Gently, I pulled my hand from her mouth and undid the button on my trousers. ‘You want to suck on something, Sugar? Then you know what to do.’

CHAPTER FIVE
Thea

MY HEART WAS jumping around behind my breastbone like a gymnast on a trampoline, a dim part of me wondering what the hell I was doing.

Seducing him hadn’t seemed like that big a deal when I’d first decided on it, but now I was on my knees in front of him, with the salty taste of his skin in my mouth and the hard ridge behind his zip staring me in the face...

Well.

It seemed like kind of a big deal now.

I’d followed my gut when he’d started asking questions, dropping my act and giving him the truth—or at least a bit of it. Letting him see a piece of the real me: the woman who wanted the sun, not the shadow. Yet still he’d asked questions about whether I was there to kill him or to rob him, so I’d had to do something.

Taking his thumb into my mouth had seemed like a good idea at the time, giving me some control over what was happening. But somehow—and I still didn’t know how he’d done it when I thought I’d been making progress—he’d taken charge of things again.

He was looking at me now, one pierced brow raised in arrogant challenge, a man supremely aware of his own beauty and his extensive sexual prowess.

Daring me to refuse. To say no and pull away.

But I couldn’t. I was used to being unnoticed, yet he was noticing me, his focus so intense it was as if he was memorising every inch of me.

It was intoxicating. Addictive. And I wanted more.

You can’t afford to have him notice you, not like that.

No, I couldn’t. Then again, the chances of him ever actually remembering me were remote to non-existent. Not me, with a face you wouldn’t look at twice in the street. Your average, every-day everywoman.

I could let myself have this moment, couldn’t I, where I felt like the centre of the world instead of not even being part of it?

I took a slow breath, then another, trying to get my heartbeat under control, but he smelled so good, spice cut through with musk, and it made me ache. While the heat of his body made me want to stretch out and warm myself against him.

Yes, I could have it. I wanted it, so I was going to take it.

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