Rebellion (A Dangerous Man, #2) (8 page)

I frown, puzzled, “Then how did you get her to sell them to
you?”

He shrugs again. “I have my ways.”

A sneaking suspicion dawns on me. “Wait,” I ask, “what did
she want?”

He pauses. “She wanted me,” he says without any hint of
conceit. “Either me or my destruction,” he pulls me close and guides me in a
spin. I stare at him open-mouthed.

“I don’t understand.” I say as the music ends. But he
doesn’t explain. He kisses me on the forehead as the man he had been talking to
at our table, Leon Boise, comes to claim me for the next dance.

David hands me over with a curt smile, “handle with extreme
care,” he says, before turning around and walking away from us.

“I’m Leon Boise,” my new partner tells me as we start to
dance.

“I know.” I smile.

“You do?” he laughs, his silver hair gleaming in the lights,
“I didn’t think I was famous.”

“I may have read some news articles.” I tell him.

He seems surprised, but is happy enough to tell me about his
business as we dance.

Afterwards, I excuse myself and go to the ladies room. While
I’m checking my makeup, the door opens, and my eyes meet Carole Bank’s in the
mirror. She pauses at the door, giving me a long hard look.

For a few moments, we just look at each other, her gaze
shrewd and assessing, mine puzzled and expecting the worst. She doesn’t
disappoint.

“Oh look, it’s the child bride.” She says disparagingly.

I debate whether to reply, then I decide to ignore her, and
turn back to the mirror.

“So how’s marriage to David treating you?” She asks. “You
look happy?”

I turn to look at her, unwilling to be affected by her
animosity. “I am, actually.” I tell her, not that it’s any of her business.

Her expression changes to one of faux concern. “Doesn’t it
bother you that it won’t last?”

I swallow. “Why shouldn’t it? Because I didn’t try to buy
David’s love with a couple of shares?”

Her eyes narrow, and then suddenly, she starts to laugh. “You
have no idea, do you? You really are as innocent and trusting as you look.” She
makes the words sound like ‘stupid and dumb’. She comes closer to me, as if she
has some secret of vital importance to impart. “Sophie, David uses people. That’s
how he got where he is. He used me, he used my father, and now he’s using you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re...”

“Jealous?” she interrupts, “well maybe I am. But darling the
truth is, he married you for a reason, and now that he’s got what he wanted, he
no longer needs you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, he never would have had his company without my
father, and he would have lost control of it if I had sold my shares to the
wrong person.”

“So you told him you would sell your shares to him if he
married you?” I mirror her expression of scorn, “That sounds pretty desperate
to me.”

She ignores me. “So your husband blackmailed me and forced
me to do what he wanted. He is a snake, and he always plays dirty.” She pauses,
“of course it wasn’t enough to him to win, he had to marry a green little
country rat from the backwater to teach me a lesson.”

Her words touch me. Wasn’t that the answer to the question I
had been asking myself all this time. ‘Why did David marry me?’

“You know I’m right,” she gives me a measuring look. “Be
careful Sophie, David is a dangerous man, he won’t hesitate to toss you away as
soon he’s be done with you.”

“I don’t believe you.” I say with false bravado.

“Believe what you want.” She shakes her head “Who cares,
just don’t get too comfortable in his life, you’ll be alone as soon as he gets
tired of all that,” she gestures in the general direction of my body.

I search my head for a retort, but she has already swung out
of the room.

It’s only after she has gone that I realize that my fists
are clenched so tight, my nails are cutting into the skin of my palms. I don’t
want to believe the things she’s said, but deep down, I know she’s telling the
truth.

W
HEN I LEAVE THE LADIES ROOM, all I want to do is find David
and make him deny the things Carole said to me. He’s not in the ballroom, and
the dining room is already empty. I go in the direction of a wide stairway that
leads from the ballroom to a mezzanine floor, where there are some chairs and
many French doors that lead to a long balcony.

David’s not anywhere on the mezzanine floor either, I’m
about to turn back down the stairs when I decide to check outside.

The balcony runs along the whole length of the hotel and is filled
with different species of potted plants. There are a few people close to the
doors, mostly smoking and conversing. I decide to walk a little further, mainly
because, there is a cool breeze coming from the sea.

I take only a few steps before I see them.

Carole has her hands on David arm, and she’s saying
something to him, her expression full of passion. I freeze on the spot, unable
to take my eyes off them.

I can only see David’s back, but he seems to be listening to
her, whatever it is that she’s saying. Suddenly she pulls his face down and
starts to kiss him.

I stand there waiting for him to push her away, but he
doesn’t. When I can’t look anymore, I turn on my heel and rush back into the
hotel. I hurry down the stairs, feeling an actual pain in my chest. It’s heavy
and aching, and it’s spreading all over my body. I need to get away from here.
Away from him.

At the lobby, I ask for a cab. It only takes a few minutes
before one arrives. I look back only once to see if maybe David has noticed
that I’m gone, but I suppose he’s too busy reconciling with his old love.

I can’t shake the image of them kissing from my head, in my
mind it turns to something else, and I can almost see him making love to her.
The thoughts fill me with a desperate sadness. I want to go back and pull her
off him. I want to do many things, but I know there’s only one thing I should
do.

When I get to the apartment, I find my bags, the one that
came with me from Ashford. I pack my sketchpad, and my old clothes. I don’t
want to take anything of his. I don’t want to take anything that will remind me
of this life. I hear my phone ringing in my purse, but I ignore it, I’m not
interested in whatever it is he has to say. I’m zipping the last bag closed
when the door bursts open and David walks in.

He looks worried, but then he takes in the bags on the bed,
the tears on my face, and his expression changes to steel. “What are you
doing?” he asks slowly.

“What does it look like?” I retort without pausing.

“I left you for a few moments at a party, and now you’re
leaving me?”

“You left me for far longer than a few minutes, to make out
with your old girlfriend.” I throw the words at him, angry at the tears that
are filling my eyes.

“So now you’re running off back to Ashford,” The hardness
in his voice intensifies almost enough to scare me. He comes towards me. “Tell
me, is it Eddie Newton who’s going to be picking up the pieces of your broken
heart, or will it be somebody else?”

“What do you care?” I cry.

“For God’s sake Sophie!” the words are harsh.

I try to back away, but the bed is behind me, he is standing
so close, I can’t see anything but his chest. “Let me go.” I whisper, “I don’t
belong here, in this big apartment, or in your luxurious life, and we both know
it.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” For a moment, I think
there is a pleading note in his voice, but it must be my imagination because
his expression remains like stone.

The truth is, if I knew how he felt about me, if I thought,
even for one moment, that he cared about me, that I’m not just someone he likes
to sleep with, I would never think of going anywhere.

I swallow. “David, do you love me?” I ask, looking up into
his face. My voice is trembling, maybe because I already know what the answer
is.

He looks irritated, “What has come over you?”

“Do you love me, David?” I ask again.

His face freezes again, and I know he has shut me out. “What
do you want from me?” he says, turning away.

I stare at his back. Somewhere inside, I still had hope,
that maybe he would tell me that he loved me and make me stay with him. “You
don’t love me do you?” I accuse, shaking my head and feeling all my childish
dreams and expectations crumbling around my feet. How could I have thought, even
for one moment that he could love me? I am just a means to an end, and he has
used me because that’s what he does, he uses people. Carole was right.

He turns back towards me. “Love isn’t all it’s cracked up to
be Sophie.” His voice is almost gentle, “other people would take what they have
and be grateful for it.”

Maybe he meant for his words to comfort me, but I feel as if
he has just crushed the last of my hopes.

“And what do I have?” I turn back to him. “Tell me the truth
David. Why did you marry me?”

His silence tells me what I need to know. I turn away from
him, back to my bags on the bed. I’m not looking at him, so I’m not expecting
it when he takes hold of my arm.

I turn around and stare up at him, breathing deeply. He
looks determined, and I wonder, filled with hope and dread, what he is going to
say. He moves closer to me and puts a hand on my cheek, stroking it slowly. I
wait, confused. His hand moves down to my neck, and then to my shoulders, his
eyes never leaving mine. Despite myself, I stare at him hypnotized.

As his fingers run down my arm, I can’t prevent the shiver
that runs through my body.

He notices, “Because of that.” He says. His expression
doesn’t change, but his fingers continue their journey, lightly skimming over
my body as I stand in front of him.

When my whole body is shivering and aching for him, he leans
in closer and whispers in my ear. “Because of this, Sophie. This is what we
have between us.”

“This is only sex.” I whisper helplessly, sadness and sexual
arousal fighting for supremacy. “We have nothing.”

His fingers skim lightly over a nipple. As I shudder in
pleasure, he smiles. “Is this nothing, Sophie?” He has the voice of the devil,
tempting and persuasive. I want to throw aside everything I know to be true,
and allow him to make love to me.

He leans forwards and whispers in my ear, arousing me with
his warm breath on my nape. “Don’t you want this Sophie?” Don’t you want me to
touch you? To make love to you, over and over again?” his lips make a trail
from my neck to my shoulder. “Isn’t it enough?”

I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. “No.”

“Don’t lie to yourself? Sophie, what else is there?” His
hand slide down over my dress and pull down the zip, making it fall to the
ground. His hands skim up over my waist and toward my breasts. He stops just
shy of touching them, teasing me.

I look up at him, my eyes pleading. I don’t know what I want
anymore. I want him to love me, but I also want him to keep touching me, more
than anything. My breasts are heavy and straining through my bra. My breath is
coming in short gasps.

“What do you want Sophie?”

His fingers move upwards, skimming the lower curve of my
breasts. I moan softly.

He cups my breasts, squeezing them until my whole body is
aching with desire.

“Isn’t this enough?’ he asks again, I shake my head.

He sighs and undoes my bra, freeing my breasts. I feel
exposed, yet full of expectation. I want this. I want him, despite everything.

He starts to take off his clothes, I stand transfixed as he
removes his jacket and tie, his shirt, then his pants. By the time he’s totally
naked, I’m shaking with arousal, hungry for him.

He guides my hand to his hard length. I touch him, glorying
in the stiffness. He wants me as much as I want him. Stroking him, I get down
on my knees, trying to pleasure him with my hands and my mouth. Muttering an
oath, he pulls me up, turns me around, and bends me over the bed. He starts to
stroke me through my panties, and in moments, I’m burning for him. He doesn’t
make any move to end my torment. His fingers continue to stroke me until my
panties are soaked.

“Please.” I beg him brokenly. “Please David.”

“Tell me what you want.” His voice torments me.

“Please.”

“Tell me.”

“I want you.” I cry, grinding my hips against his fingers.

“You want what?”

“I want you to make love to me, David, please.”

He pulls my panties down to my knees. Spreading my legs as
far as my stretched panties will allow, he enters me, slowly, teasingly, pushing
in inch by inch until I’m going crazy and begging him to give me more. I brace my
hands on the mattress and push my hips back, urging him further in. He
stiffens, then moves, bending over me and grabbing each of my breasts in each
hand, and pinning me to his body until I can’t move.

Then he starts to thrust into me, His hips slamming into
mine while each stroke brings me to screaming, throbbing life.

The pleasure is exquisite. It feels as if I’m going to die.
My body explodes over and over, but he doesn’t stop. As my body goes limp, I
hear him whisper in my ear.

“Isn’t this enough?”

When I don’t say anything, he starts to thrust again, making
me come over and over again until I’m screaming “Yes, yes, yes,” to anything he
asks.

Later when I’m lying on the bed, unable to move, my body
limp with exhaustion and pleasure, he turns to me.

“Don’t mistake what we have” he says, his voice like cold
water on my skin, “and don’t underestimate it either.”

I want to cry, to lash out at him, I feel so hurt and
humiliated. “And what about Carole?” I ask, “What do you two have?”

“Is that what this is all about? Carole?” He sits up, “Did
she say something to you?”

“You used her,” I accuse, “just like you’re using me.” I
choke on my words. “You wanted the shares she had in your company.”