Sinful Pleasures

Their waiter arrived with their meals, interrupting the conversation as he placed a large steak and garlic mashed potatoes in front of Hunter and a bowl of minestrone soup at Elle’s place setting. The gentleman asked if either of them wanted a refill on their drinks, and both of them declined. Hunter had a one-drink limit when he was driving, and Elle was still nursing her original prosecco.

“So, what happened to Theodore and Gavin?” Elle asked as she picked up her spoon and scooped up some vegetables, small bits of pasta, and broth.

He cut into his steak and glanced at her just in time to watch her pucker her lips and blow on the steaming soup, prompting his dirty imagination to conjure images of that soft, lush mouth blowing on other things . . . like the tip of his cock before she swallowed him to the back of her throat. His dick twitched at the filthy thought, and he forcibly shifted his focus to answering her question instead of fantasizing about her sucking him off.

He chewed on a piece of tender steak and rerouted his brain, as well as the blood flow to his groin. “Theodore and Gavin were both arrested and are now behind bars, and will probably be there for a long time, if not for the rest of their lives.”

“Good.” Elle’s gaze glowed with fierce satisfaction. “It’s nothing less than they deserve, and taking away their freedom is the best and most fitting revenge you could ask for.”

“True.” He smiled at her as she ate more of her soup, glad to see that she at least had a decent appetite. “So, tell me about Darian Commercial Realty.”

She peered up at him through her lashes, her expression suddenly cautious. “What do you want to know?”

He shrugged and kept it simple. “Who started the business?”

“My parents did before I was born,” she said easily, a fond, melancholy smile touching her lips. “They built it into a strong business together, and whenever I wasn’t in school, they’d let me hang out at the office, so I pretty much grew up there. Then my mother died when I was eleven, which was very hard on my father, and the company faltered for a while.”

“How does Helena come into the picture?” he asked curiously as he finished his steak.

Elle absently stirred her spoon in the small amount of soup left in her bowl. “She was a colleague, and after my mother passed away, she seemed to always be around, ‘comforting’ my heartbroken father, she claimed, and helping with the business. But I know my dad was lonely after my mother died, and because I’ve learned who Helena is over the years, I have no doubt she manipulated my father into a relationship and marriage.”

He set his fork and knife on his empty plate and pushed the dish to the side. “Why do you

think that?”

She sighed. “Because he never seemed as happy with Helena as he always was when he was with my mother. Within a few months of them getting married, they were constantly arguing and fighting. I honestly think he regretted marrying her so quickly, and I could never understand why he wouldn’t just divorce her, because as the years went on, it only got worse . . . for him and for me, which made me wonder if she was holding something over him. Helena resented my close relationship with my father and treated me like dirt when he wasn’t around. Not to mention, she brought to the marriage two mean girls intent on making my life miserable.”

There was so much sadness in her voice, and he hated that she’d been treated so poorly, then and clearly now, too, because he’d seen all three women in action the night of the fairy-tale ball.

She set her spoon on the plate beneath her bowl and gave him a smile that wasn’t quite one hundred percent. “On the upside, my father spent more time at work and built the business back up to what it was. And as soon as I graduated high school, I became a licensed real estate agent and went to work at the company out in the field. When my father passed away, I did my best to take over and keep the business open and profitable . . . but it hasn’t been easy.”

She suddenly stopped talking and glanced away, but not before he caught a glimpse of the despondent look in her eyes, which gave him the impression that she’d simplified her story and there was more going on with her than she was divulging.

Their waiter appeared at their table before Hunter could ask any other questions, though he wasn’t really sure what to ask. He only sensed that Elle was dealing with things she didn’t want to talk about, and he wanted to respect her choice, even if it was difficult for him because, if he was able to help her, he wanted to offer his support in any way he could.

“Can I get either of you any dessert or coffee?” their waiter asked as he picked up their dinner plates.

Elle shook her head. “Nothing for me, thank you.”

“I’m fine,” Hunter said. “Just the check, please.”

When they were alone again, Hunter trailed his fingers across her shoulder and along her neck, and she turned her head and smiled at him. This time, a genuine one that was solely for him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, still concerned about her stomach. “Did the soup settle okay?”

She nodded. “It did. It was delicious. Thank you.”

“Good.” He grinned at her, wanting to lighten the mood after two serious back-to-back conversations. “So, Just Elle, I owe you a shoe. Are you ready to go and get it?”

She arched a brow at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Dare I ask where it is?”

“My place.”

She bit her bottom lip, and he could almost see her weighing the pros and cons of going back to his apartment. “Maybe you should bring it by my office next week.”

“No.” He wasn’t letting her off that easy, nor was he going to allow her to go back to avoiding him. “You left it at my place, so it’s only fair that’s where you pick it up. Unless you’re afraid of being alone with me?” Yeah, he made sure it sounded like a challenge, a dare he wanted her to accept.

It worked like a charm. A stubborn glint flashed in her eyes, and she lifted her chin a few inches—a little bit sassy and a whole lot sexy, even if she didn’t realize it. “Mr. Wilder, I’m not afraid of you in any way, shape, or form,” she said, her tone impudent. “So, your place it is.”