Naughty or Nice

I rub my wrists. The flesh still tingles where he tied me, and the bubble balloons. Nervous energy. Need, more like. Need and so much more...

Time to go out.

I lift my clutch from a sofa that could seat at least ten and head out to the lift area, where I stop in my tracks. There’s a glass wall alongside the elevator that I didn’t see before. I was too wrapped up in Lucas and in following him inside. Now my jaw drops as I take in the sight beyond the glass. A bright red Ferrari and a vibrant blue Porsche stare back at me. I can’t even hazard a guess at how high this rooftop penthouse sits, but surely too high for this, an en suite garage.

And the cars... I love cars. I have a Porsche too—it’s my one real indulgence. But it’s clear to see, even from this distance, that his is custom-made everything. Unique to him.

Unique as him.

I roll my eyes at my heart, which is getting so carried away, and continue to the lift, using a touchscreen to beckon it. Of course it opens immediately, as if it anticipated my request.

I scan my clothing in the lift mirror: skinny pants and a deep blue silk cami. It’ll do. And I step in.

It takes me a few tries to navigate the touchscreen inside, and it occurs to me that I don’t have a clue how to get back in. There will be some code—some pass that I need. But I tell myself it’s fine, I’ll speak t

o the lovely staff we saw on the way in. Nothing is insurmountable.

It’s exactly what I’m planning on doing when the doors open and I step out into the vast lobby. Instead I’m frozen, my feet stuck to the glossy white floor.

The thing about Lucas is that he stands out. Even more so in Singapore. And there he is, in the middle of the bustling lobby, with a lady. A tall, statuesque Asian woman who is all poise and elegance, exotic and captivating.

My teeth grit and my heart clenches in my chest.

Business—she’s business?

The past rips through me: Lucas the player, all those girls, the women since... This woman.

And he told me it was me! That I was the reason there’d been so many. And I believed him.

My body overheats. I’m not only hurt, and embarrassed over my foolishness, I’m livid.

He moves, and for the first time I see he has a red box under his arm. He hands it to her and she beams, leaning in to peck him on the cheek. I see the intimacy of the gesture, see her stroke the box affectionately, and I’ve had enough.

I stride forward. I don’t know what I’m going to say but I’m not letting him think he can get away with this.

But you’re not together. You’re not in a relationship. This trip is about business for him. You’re the one who turned it into more.

No, he turned it into more when he tied me to his bed, when he screwed me—

Oh, God, don’t think about that now.

He cups her elbow and I see they’re about to move off. I’m almost upon them and it’s as if he senses my approach. His head turns and his eyes are on me. They narrow before they lift and he smiles. Actually smiles.

‘Evangeline, you’re supposed to be getting some rest.’

I pull myself up in front of him, hating how hot my cheeks feel and how the beautiful exotic creature with him balances his beauty so spectacularly. Even now, as she studies me with open curiosity, I acknowledge that she is perfect for him.

‘I wanted to go out to eat,’ I say. I turn to her, holding out a hand. ‘Hi. I’m Evangeline Beaumont.’

‘I know exactly who you are.’

Even her voice is exotic, captivating. She smiles at me, her eyes alive with appreciation, and I feel my heart stutter, confusion hot on its tail. She takes my hand and shakes it softly, her delicate perfume wafting up to me, and suddenly I feel dizzy.

‘I have been so eager to meet you.’

‘You have?’ I retract my hand, my frown impossible to prevent.

‘Yes, of course—to work with you would be such a pleasure.’