And then the woman stiffened, her thighs quaking, as she came hard. Her naked breasts heaved as she tried to catch her breath but just as she stopped shuddering, Laird shared a look with Vince and Laird flipped the woman over so that she was on all fours and without waiting, plunged himself deep inside her dripping core, ramming his cock into her almost brutally but she seemed to love it, as each thrust elicited a guttural moan. Laird’s ass muscles flexed as each powerful thrust buried his cock deeper into the woman’s body and Emma felt herself growing helplessly aroused until she was squirming against Vince’s hand, pressing against his palm for more pressure. Something was building at her core, something she couldn’t name, but she wanted it — craved it — and it frustrated her that she didn’t know how to attain it but Vince seemed to know and he was effortlessly guiding her there if only she could let go and trust him. But she didn’t trust him and that was the crux of it. She twisted and pushed away from, disoriented and aching from a need she didn’t fully understand. “No,” she cried, and stumbled away from him. “I don’t want this and I don’t want you!”
But even as she shouted the words, the din of the club whisked the sound away and she realized tears were streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t want Vince’s touch. She didn’t want him to be the one who awakened her latent sexuality. He was the exact opposite of everything she appreciated in a man so why was she burning up inside with desperation and need? She turned and bailed, running as quickly as her dream legs would take her, away from Vince and his darkly handsome face and solid strength and away from the scorching shame of her own arousal. “No! No! No!” As she pushed her way through the crowds, she realized she was no longer on the second floor but strung up in the dungeon with her attacker and her confusion coalesced into a cold, greasy knot of fear. There was no one to save her and her attacker was advancing with that wicked implement of torture. She kicked and screamed but no one heard her. No would come. She was in the clutches of a madman drunk on power and if she escaped with her life, it would be a miracle. All those feelings of frantic panic, despair and agony returned in a symphony of pee-your-pants fear and all she could do was scream.
#
Vince heard moaning from the bedroom and immediately got off the phone with Nolan to investigate. At first he puzzled at the faint moans until he recognized the anxious scissoring of her legs beneath the blankets and he grinned. Whatever was happening in her dreams must’ve been pretty hot because her nipples had pearled in her sleep and she was twisting and moving as if someone were caressing her body with phantom hands. Watching her felt wrong but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She was such an enigma to him, part feral cat — hissing and scratching — and part vulnerable China doll with plainly broken parts. He wondered who was in her dreams that made her wet with need but even as the natural curiosity flitted across his thoughts, he didn’t like the way it made him feel to know that she’d allowed someone — anyone but him — touch her so intimately. But the minute he realized the faint touch of jealousy he shut it down. What the fuck did he care about her sex life? She was nothing to him aside from a detail he had to manage. Just like he had her sister. Once they’d solved the mystery of who was using Malvagio for their own purposes, he’d close the book on Lana and Emma Winters. Emma…her name left a delicious taste in his mouth. Nolan had discovered her identity a few moments ago, which hadn’t been difficult once Emma herself had outed her relationship with Lana. Emma Winters…the name fit her seemingly delicate disposition, which was a total ruse. Emma was pretty damn tough. He’d expected her to crumble after her ordeal but she’d proven to be far tougher than he’d imagined, choosing to bounce back with her fists raised rather than sink into a deep, dark place inside of herself like her sister had. Poor Lana…such a delicate flower. He wasn’t sure who had brought her to the club, no one had copped to it, which was probably because they would’ve been banned for bringing someone who hadn’t been vetted and cleared. Vince kicked himself for not pursuing the matter more aggressively at the time. Now they had a bigger mess. Another moan pulled his attention and he realized she was no longer moving with arousal but jerking in fear. Her lips parted and a whispered cry escaped, her brows pulled in a mask of total terror. He shouldn’t have been so affected by the sight of her whimpering but it pulled at a place inside of him that he’d long since shut down and padlocked. He didn’t stop to question his actions, too intent on soothing her ragged cries and immediately went to her, drawing her gently into his arms. “It’s okay, you’re safe,” he murmured softly against her crown. She hiccupped and clung to him, burying her face against his chest, unknowingly cleaving to him as if he were the only thing between her and death, and his heart stuttered painfully. Someone else had looked to him for protection and he’d utterly failed her. He closed his eyes against the wash of memories that assaulted him, wishing to God he could forget but in all his pleas to heaven and above, none had been answered. He was reminded daily of how he wasn’t worthy of someone to love for his own. Isabel had put her trust in him, yet he’d known her heart had belonged to Dillon. And now he had this little dove who’d managed to stir his blood in a way he didn’t welcome but couldn’t deny? He held her tightly, inhaling the unique scent of her essence and knew she was trouble in more ways than one but he couldn’t bring himself to push her away.
#
Emma awoke with a start and without thinking buried her nose against the solid wall of muscle cradling her. Relief over realizing she’d been suffering from a nightmare and not a reboot of that horrid night blotting out rational thought. But as her nose tingled at the sensual scent of clean male skin and the sharp bite of aftershave, she sucked in a wild breath and pushed hard against the wall of muscle, nearly falling from the bed in shock. “What are you doing?” she demanded to know, pulling the sheets practically to her chin. “Why are you in bed with me?”
Vince climbed from the bed, seemingly unperturbed by her outburst but answered curtly, “You were having a nightmare. I was trying to shut you up before you disturbed the neighbors with your caterwauling.”
“I do not caterwaul.”
“Would you prefer the term screeching?”
No. That wasn’t very flattering either. “Well, I’m fine so keep your meat hooks to yourself.”
“Meat hooks?” He stared. “You, little dove, have an appalling sense of gratitude.”
“Kidnappers are not allowed to critique the manners of their hostages,” she said, looking away, refusing to be made to feel guilty for her brusque brush-off. No one had asked him to climb into her bed just as no one had forced him to hold her hostage. She took no responsibility for his pique. But she had to admit now that her heart rate had slowed to a normal and steady thump, she’d been wildly grateful to feel his solid strength wrapped around her. In that crazy moment between sleep and complete awareness, she’d been instantly soothed by the feel of his arms holding her tight and her fuzzed brain had told her she was safe. Of course, when she’d realized she was in Vince Buchanan’s arms, her scandalized brain had told her something completely different, something along the lines of Run, you stupid idiot! and she’d reacted accordingly. So, why did she feel like such a jerk? She wasn’t the one who was holding a person against their will. “If you have a problem with my attitude you could always just let me go.” At his dark scowl, she exhaled a short, frustrated breath. “Fine. It’s your funeral. I hope you have a great lawyer because I am going to sue the pants off you.” She realized her mistake the second the words flew from her mouth but it was too late to take them back.
Vince’s mouth curved in a sardonically sensual smirk as he said, “I have excellent lawyers — as in plural — and if you were interested in getting me out of my pants, all you had to do was ask.”
“Oh!” Her eyes widened as she scowled. “As if! Get over yourself, Buchanan. The very idea makes me want to vomit.”
If only that were true. Emma hated to admit but the idea had to be somewhere in her subconscious otherwise why would
she have such a shameful dream about him? Ugh. Thank God, he couldn’t read minds. Her mortification would burn her alive. But seeing as she doubted he had mind reading capabilities she was happy to cling to outward appearances. He need not know that her dream had featured him and some quite scorching scenes that she didn’t even fully understand but she knew arousal in its most primal form. And everything about Vince was primal male.
She suppressed a shudder but Vince’s quick eye caught the motion. “Do you need more blankets?” he asked brusquely and she nodded, happy to cover her visceral reaction to him and all his overflowing masculinity. He abruptly left and returned, tossing a thick blanket to her. “Thank you,” she said awkwardly, then ventured to ask, “So…do you have any idea when I might get some clothes? Unlike other women in your company, I do not relish the idea of lounging around naked.”
“Your clothes should arrive later today. But if it were my wish for you to remain naked, you certainly would remain so.”
“Is that so?” Oh, the arrogance, she wanted to scream. “And what makes you think you could make me do anything?”
“I can make you do all manner of things,” he said with a shrug, causing her fingers to itch with the desire to lob something heavy and blunt at his thick head. “The key to motivating anyone is finding their currency. Laird told me that you pleaded with him to release you so you could care for your sister.”
“Yes, that’s true,” she agreed cautiously, not trusting where this was going one bit. “And?”
“And I’ve discovered your currency is your sense of responsibility. So, I’ve had Laird go procure your sister.”
What? “What do you mean procure?” She stilled, her brain freezing. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He smiled, slow and deliberate. “I told you, I would find your motivation. You’ve been fighting me tooth and nail since I rescued you, making this situation ten times worse than it needs to be. I need your help in catching whoever did this to you and your sister. You’d think that you’d be more helpful but instead you’ve been an irritating twit and I’ve tired of your games.”
“Games?” she gasped, outrage blotting out her good sense. “How dare you!”
He waved away her outrage and continued. “Your sister is in good hands. Laird will take excellent care of her while you do your best to be accommodating.”
“You can’t do this,” she protested, unable to believe his nerve. “You can’t just go around plucking people off the street to do whatever you want with them. What kind of world do you live in where that’s remotely okay?” She was beginning to shriek but she didn’t care. She hoped his eardrums burst and bled. “I’ll call the cops and then you’ll go to jail, you miserable son-of-a-bitch. My sister has been through an unimaginable trauma because of your club and now you’re going to make it worse!”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Laird seemed quite intrigued by your sister. He’ll treat her like a queen. He loves to pamper and dote on women. But if you continue to stonewall me, I will make your life — and by proxy — your sister’s life very difficult.”
“And how is that?”
Instead of answering right away he said, “It must be a challenge caring for your sister on your meager freelance salary. I would imagine that it’s very important to protect your connections just to make rent every month.” His gaze narrowed to a point and she suffered a very bad feeling in her belly. He was going to blackmail her into helping him. He’d found the perfect way to force her to bow her head and walk ten paces behind him by using Lana against her. Emma began to shake and angry tears threatened to fall but she held them back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. “You’re a smart girl,” he said approvingly. “Good. You can see where this is going, which means I don’t need to spell it out. Fall in line or you’ll find yourself without work for the foreseeable future. No one will cross a Buchanan, not even for a pretty face like yours. So unless you want to find yourself swinging that tight little ass on a stripper pole, you’d better adjust your attitude — quickly — because my patience is shot. Got it?”
She wanted to tell him to go to hell but he had her. Since the incident, Lana hadn’t been able to work. Her sister wasn’t exactly agoraphobic but Lana became extremely agitated around strangers, almost to the point of pure panic if she felt overwhelmed, which had made it impossible to hold down a job. “I need to talk to her,” she said, trying for a brave front. “Lana is…”
“Laird told me,” Vince cut in, his tone gentling with the slightest note of understanding. “No harm will come to her. You have my word.”
“And what is your word worth?” she couldn’t help but ask without masking her bitterness.
“My word is worth everything I have and more,” he answered and she heard no mocking couched in the reply, which for some reason settled her nerves a bit. She shouldn’t trust him but what choice did she have? Until she figured out how to best him, she had to pretend to cede defeat. Satisfied with her nod, he said, “One more thing, you will be required to sign nondisclosure paperwork, which you may do over dinner tonight. Appropriate clothing will be brought to you.”
She ground her teeth. “I’d prefer to eat alone.”
“I didn’t ask for your preference. Strike one, little dove. Three strikes and you’re out. Am I clear?”
“Perfectly.” She gave him a sweet, completely fake smile. “And am I going to be required to suck your cock after dinner, too?”
At that he laughed and she grumbled at his amusement. “Little dove, if you feel so moved to go down on your knees and suck my cock, I wouldn’t deny you, as long as you don’t bite.”
“Well, I do bite,” she replied, then snapped her teeth for emphasis.
His gaze narrowed sharply. “In that case, we’ll skip the foreplay and go straight to bending you over the dinner table. Sound good?”
“You’re a pig.”
“You have no idea.” He dipped his head ever so slightly and then said, “Until this evening, then…” before leaving her alone again.
She exhaled sharply and dropped her head in her hands. Her entire body ached and groaned from her ordeal but the pains of her body couldn’t rival the agony in her mind as she worried about Lana with that licentious Laird Tiechert, who was no better than the Buchanans in his pursuit of pleasure, no matter the obstacle. Lana had always been a bit naïve and sweet, always seeing the good in someone no matter how broken and damaged they were, and it was that innate goodness that had managed to put Lana in that wicked place to begin with. Of course, Lana refused to talk about that night, saying she didn’t remember much but Emma wasn’t so sure that Lana’s memory was fogged but rather purposefully blocked. Lana had no interest in remembering what had happened to her.
And now Lana was in the care of Laird…Emma suddenly felt queasy and made a wobbly rush to the restroom but Just as she reached the toilet only bile came up because she hadn’t actually eaten anything. Emma sat on the cold marble tile of the polished executive bathroom and her shoulders shook with silent tears. This was her own fault. If only she’d been prepared for trouble, she could’ve handled herself. Now, she and Lana were forced to dance to Buchanan’s tune, whether they wanted to or not.
-7-
Now that Vince had Emma's sister he didn't worry about her leaving the minute he turned his back, which freed him up to take care of some details before dinner. Satisfied with the way things had panned out in his favor, he was humming a tune as he awaited his twin at Envy, his favorite designer dress shop. Most times he would’ve handed off the task to his executive secretary but since Penny had gone off and married his older brother Dillon, he and Nolan had not yet filled her former position so the task was left in his hands. Not that he minded, actually. He rather liked the idea of hand selecting the very clothes that would go on Emma’s body. The power gave him a very satisfying pleasure and he was not above savoring it.
Vince wouldn't lie, he enjoyed knowing that he was bending the rigi
d woman to his will and thus going dress shopping put a small smile on his face until Nolan walked in, looking as happy as a drowned cat. "Why are we meeting here?" Nolan asked.
Vince paused in answering, instructing the leggy, pencil-thin proprietor, Dana, that he wanted to see every dress she had in the color red, then returned to Nolan, saying with a subtle frown, "I wanted your opinion on a dress and I also wanted an update on everything you've managed to uncover about Emma Winters. I figured we could kill two birds with one stone."
“Why are you buying a dress?”
“Because as much as I’d enjoy seeing Emma sit across the table naked during dinner, something tells me she’s not going to let that happen. At least not yet.”
Vince expected his twin to chuckle at his joke but Nolan’s serious expression didn’t so much as crack. “You're playing a dangerous game, Vince. Emma Winters is unlike some airheaded starlet looking to sleep her way to the top or even a woman who’s just looking for a good time.”