Ruthless Prince (Dark Syndicate 1)

“Come. Come upstairs with me,” she urges, lowering her head to whisper into my ear. “Come. Let me take care of your needs.”

I should go with her. Fuck her and get Emelia out of my head. Even as I think that, though, I see her in my mind. I see her beautiful face, the pleasure on her face as I touch her, the look in her eyes every time she looks at me. Even when I’ve pissed her off, that look is still there.

I imagine her soft skin and the gentleness in her kiss. She gave me her first kiss, and to me it felt like it was my first kiss too. It was certainly the only kiss I’ve ever had that made me feel passion.

I close my eyes when Gabriella runs her hand down my chest and shuffles so she can grab my cock.

“Do you have a condom?” she whispers into my ear. Her lips brush along my neck.

“Yeah,” I answer. My voice sounds far away, like I’m hearing it on the edge of the wind.

She gets off my lap. A smile of triumph lights up her face. “Come with me,” she says again, beckoning me with the crook of her finger.

I stand up and she walks ahead, knowing exactly where to go. To my suite. The suite I’ve had her in many times.

We get to the stairs, and when I place my foot on the first step, I freeze up when I catch a glimpse of long raven hair floating behind one of the curtains. I gaze on at the woman with the willowy body and see her. In my mind’s eye I see Emelia again. My mind conjures up the memory of how I had her in the shower, and I know it’s her I really want.

What will she think of me if I do this?

What will I think of myself?

Fucking hell… this wasn’t supposed to happen. I want her, and my damn body wants only her.

Gabriella turns back to me, seeing my struggle. Her face hardens.

“What’s the matter?” she asks.

“I have to go,” I reply and turn away.

She rushes down the stairs and grabs my arm. I glare at her in a way that should remind her of who I am. She takes heed and releases my arm, righting herself.

“Why?” she challenges. “Because of her? Your trophy bride?”

I’m not ready to admit that to anybody, least of all her. I loom over her. She shudders under the weight of my stare.

“Watch it, Gabriella. Be careful. Remember who you’re talking to. I don’t want you tonight.”

She backs down and takes a step back. With that, I leave her. I walk down the stairs leading down to the exit, catching a glimpse of Tristan and Dominic at the bar on the way, but I don’t stop. I don’t even know if they saw me.

My body moves on its own accord. Like I’m being summoned home. Home to her.

I drive back thinking of her and yesterday. I think of how much she wanted me too. It’s not that late when I get home, but I don’t know if she’ll be asleep. Her bedroom door is open. When I approach, I stop and wait by the door when I see her kneeling on the floor. Before her are some little pots of makeup and white copy paper. She drew on it.

I make out swallows flying over a mountain. The sky is smudged with shades of blue and violet. She dips her fingers into one of the pots of eyeshadow and smears it all over the areas that haven’t been touched.

I held back her art supplies because I had plans for them. Plans for her. Nothing malicious. It was just an idea, but I actually feel bad now as I watch her make use of whatever she could find to do what she loves.

She shuffles around onto her hands and knees so she can reach across for a large fan brush. Doing so gives me a view of her perfect ass in those short shorts.

It’s not until she shuffles back around that she sees me and jumps, startled.

The worry she usually exhibits when she’s with me instantly settles on her beautiful face. She stands up, readying herself for whatever I might have up my sleeves tonight.

We gaze at each other in silence for a few moments. She looks better than she did in my imagination, and what I conjured up was pretty damn good. What’s different is that longing lurking beneath her stare. It reaches out to me and tells me she’s been thinking about me too.

I walk in and close the door, locking the latch so no one will disturb us. The staff will know that if they turn that handle and the door doesn’t open, they mustn’t knock. I don’t know what I plan to do to her yet. All I know is that I have to touch her.

I move closer to her and do exactly that. I touch her cheek, her soft, soft cheek. She steps back, away from me.