Conquer Your Love (10 page)

Too intimate.

It wasn’t what two strangers did.

“You’re damn sexy when you eat,” Jett whispered. “I’m glad you’re not
one of those anorexic girls on a diet.”

I almost choked on my bite but continued to eat as if we were having a
business conversation. “I don’t believe in diets.”

He smiled. “It’s not just your attitude I like. I love the way you get
lost in every new sensation. You show the same passion when you’re under me.”

Good gracious.

Red flags began to flash somewhere in the back of my mind. He was
beginning to flirt with me, piling on the sexy compliments, which—given
Jett and our history—wasn’t a good sign.

Before I could stop him, he leaned forward and brushed his thumb over my
lips and then sucked the tip of it into his mouth. I took a sharp breath and
forced myself to let it out slowly.

In his absence, I had prepared all those kickass comebacks that would
kick his ego to the curb. In my head I knew what I wanted to say and how to
infuse just the right amount of sarcasm into it. Sitting in front of him, an
arrogant, self-assured smile reflected in his eyes, my wit sort of dried up,
and I found myself staring like an idiot, fighting for words while my brain
remained surprisingly blank and my insides turned all mushy.

Dammit, I couldn’t think of anything to say. Worse yet, I could barely
breathe because of the delicious pull between my legs. My panties were
beginning to melt just from watching him do
normal
stuff, reminding me of all the pleasure he and his fingers had once
bestowed upon me. The awareness came to me that I could sleep with him anytime.
Pull him to me, yank his shirt open, run my fingers down his chest to the happy
trail I had once been more than eager to explore.

His sexy smile widened. As if he knew what I was thinking.

Damn him and his gorgeous body!

Damn him and his flirting!

Thankfully, our waiter arrived to ask whether we needed anything else.
For a moment I seriously considered asking the waiter to stay during the rest
of our lunch. Figuring that might be a little too awkward, I resisted the urge
and watched the waiter leave again.

 
I was a grown woman, for
crying out loud. I didn’t need to hide behind anyone’s back because I couldn’t
deal with a hot guy. Or maybe I could.

Play it cool and play it cold,
Stewart!

“Jett, I want you to forget what happened between us,” I started, my
tone infused with as much frostiness as I could muster. “It’s over. We can’t go
back to how things used to be.”

Jett’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s never over. Not until every fight has
been lost. And for you, I’d fight.”

“There’s nothing to fight for. You’re not getting the estate.”

“I already told you it’s not about the estate, Brooke. This is about us.
About your safety.” His voice came low and dark. Like a menacing warning that
he wasn’t going to give up.

“I don’t need your protection. He’s just an old man. What can he do to
me?”

Hesitating, Jett put down his fork and crossed his arms over his broad
chest. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain. I want to understand.”

He took a sip of
my
drink
before putting the glass down slowly, leaving his untouched. Hiding my
annoyance at the intimate gesture, I wondered whether he was trying to make a
point by helping himself, like wanting to say that what belonged to me belonged
to him. Seriously, could he turn more
caveman-like
on me? My blood began to boil in my veins. It started to boil harder when he
touched my hand. His fingers began to trace circles on the back of my hand,
slowly but with just the right amount of pressure—the way he used to do
when we were still together.

 
How the heck can you explain
to a guy that it’s over when you’re having a hard time convincing yourself? Why
is telling others what they have to do always simpler than applying your own
advice in practice?

“Tell me what’s going on. I want to understand,” I said, pulling my hand
away from him. “That’s the only reason I’m here. Why do you think I’m in
danger?”

I leaned back in my chair, regarding him coolly. The more I thought
about this, the more his assumptions seemed ludicrous. Scary, yes, because Jett
was persuasive.
But still absurd.

“Like I said, Alessandro’s just an old man. What do you think he could
possibly do to me from a hospital bed where he’s
dying
, Jett?”

He frowned and a shadow crossed his features. I honestly thought he was
going to start talking…until he lifted his fork again and began to eat, taking
all the time in the world.

I groaned.

Damn!

He did it again—ignoring me. Letting me wait on purpose just
because he felt like being in control.

Assessing. Testing.

Testing what?

I felt like leaning over that table and shaking some sense into him.
Maybe even strangle him while I was at it, because his reasoning, or lack
thereof, made no sense to me, and I was slowly losing my patience at his
reticence.

“It’s not just
Lucazzone
I’m talking about.
It’s the elite club he belonged to,” he said slowly. “My father, Robert, was
involved many years ago.”

“What club?” I eyed him carefully, sensing the sudden change in the air.

Jett sighed and ran a hand through his tousled dark hair. His gloomy
expression reflected the countless emotions fighting to gain control inside. In
the end his shoulders slumped like he’d made a decision he didn’t want to make,
but his dark expression didn’t change.

“I’ll tell you everything I know, okay?” Jett said. “But I want you to
just listen and listen carefully. Whatever I say today doesn’t leave this
table. You cannot tell anyone.”

The sharp edge in his tone instantly raised my alertness. He grabbed my
hand and gave it a hard squeeze until I nodded, silently giving him my word.

“A few years back, Alessandro
Lucazzone
was
involved in my father’s business. It was for a brief time and he was never
officially listed as a shareholder, so I couldn’t figure out why my father
would let him make the decisions he made—decisions that cost us millions.
I stumbled upon it when I checked our financial reports dating back to my time
at college. A few weeks ago, Robert finally came clean and admitted something
that could harm the company.”

Jett paused and his eyes narrowed, the angry line between his eyebrows
saying more than a thousand words. His grip on my hand tightened, hurting me
just a little, but I didn’t pull back. “They were both involved in this sort of
elite club. You know, drugs and kinky sex practices, and lots of people to be
paid off to keep quiet. My father and quite a few people—many of them
rich and famous—were addicted to that stuff and paid whoever hosted the
events millions. In my father’s case, he paid it out of the company’s accounts.
When I joined the business the company was on the verge of liquidation, in
which case we would have lost everything. I’ve pulled in enough business to
keep us afloat for a while. But one wrong decision and it’s all over the media,
and we’ll end up losing major deals and our good reputation. If anyone finds
out, the company’s done. You were right about everything.”

“I don’t understand. Right about what?” I had a hard time following him
and the sudden change in tone didn’t exactly help. His gaze settled on me,
imploring me to understand. His hand squeezed mine again, silently asking me to
relate, to feel his emotions, or maybe to believe him.

“Robert thought by buying the
Lucazzone
estate
he could save the company. I first agreed it was a good idea because the land
is valued at much more than we initially offered and tourists flood in every
year. I thought, why not try to sell it as the next St. Tropez or
Kitzbuhel
?” He began to massage his temples.

“But you increased your offer. It was a huge gamble. You could have lost
a lot of money,” I whispered, my head still spinning around the words ‘sex
practices’ and ‘elite club.’ It sounded like a bad Hollywood movie.

“I was against paying more because, like you, I know when the risk’s too
high but he wanted it and in the end it’s still his company. After meeting you,
that wasn’t what worried me. I was afraid that once the people involved learned
of your inheritance, they’d come after you to make sure you wouldn’t find out
their secret and talk.”

His hands cupped my face, forcing me to look at him. “Do you understand
what I’m saying?”

I nodded, but not because I understood. He was nervous. I could feel
tension wafting from him in strong waves. The glint in his eyes scared the hell
out of me.

“You said ‘club,’” I began slowly. “Are we talking about a few kinky
preferences like a bit of BDMS or—”

He shook his head gravely and let go of my face but didn’t break eye
contact.

“All I know is that they’ve been fanatic about keeping their identities
protected, which leads me to assume there was more to it than that.”

“Wow.” I bit my lip hard, barely feeling the pain. “Where did the
meetings take place?”

A grimace crossed his face and a silent look passed between us. He
didn’t have to tell me that it was the
Lucazzone
estate.

“According to my father, many powerful people were involved,”
Jett
said. “He made it clear that many of them would stop at
nothing to keep their preferences hidden from the public.”

“But why would they think I’d know anything about them?”

“Because you’re the heiress. You’re expected to inherit
Lucazzone’s
secrets and no one knows the specifics. They’re
probably scared. I know I’d be.” His expression remained earnest, but the
sudden caginess in his voice didn’t escape me.

“You were never involved?” I tried to instill nonchalance into my voice,
like his past didn’t matter. After all, we didn’t know each other back then, so
it wasn’t really my concern. But it mattered. I didn’t want him to be some
pervert.

Shooting me a dirty look, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
The way his fingers began to tap on the table told me he was having a hard time
keeping his annoyance under control.

I raised my chin a notch and regarded him stubbornly. “Were you—
”

Jett cut me off. “I heard you the first time and I’m fucking pissed
you’d ever think that of me.”

“I didn’t. I—” My throat constricted at the angry glint in his
eyes.

“What the fuck, Brooke? I thought you knew me.” His voice came so low I
had a hard time understanding him, which was worse than yelling. It made me
feel bad—disappointed in myself—even though I had no reason to be.

“I don’t know you because we’ve barely scratched the surface of your
life,” I said warily. My heart was beating a million miles an hour. “I’m sorry.
It was just an innocent question. Anyone would ask the same thing, given the
circumstances.”

“Given the circumstances.” His jaw set. He pulled his hand away and
leaned back in his chair, putting as much distance between us as our sitting
arrangement allowed.

He was angry and I couldn’t blame him.

“I didn’t mean to be accusatory,” I said. “It was just a question,
Jett.”

He laughed slowly, still avoiding my gaze. I scanned his beautiful face.
His scowl didn’t distract from his beauty; it just made him look
different
, and I realized I really
didn’t know much about him.

“I wish I knew you better,” I said softly. “The real you—not the
mask you’re putting on to hide what’s inside.”

His cloud of anger lifted just a little bit. “I’d love another date.”

I laughed at his impudence. “This isn’t a date.”

“Whatever you call it, I’d love another one of those.” He cocked his
head, giving me the kind of smile I had been waiting for all day.

No, Stewart. Don’t you dare!

“I’m not asking you.” The corners of lips curled upward. “If you say
‘no’ then you leave me no choice than to do the next stupid thing, like
kidnapping you because I want to earn your trust. I want to make things right
again. What do you say?”

My heart skipped a beat and I had no idea whether it was because Jett’s
strong grip on me sent naughty thoughts through my head.
Or
because his threat both scared and fascinated me.

“You don’t mean it.”

“Try me.” No smile. No blinking.
Just pure, raw
determination to get his way.

I swallowed down the big lump in my throat. This was supposed to be a
formal meeting.
Nothing too intense.
Yet here I was,
tempted to give him another chance, knowing I might be heading down a
self-destructive path.

“Your whole story sounds kind of far-fetched, Jett. You don’t have any
real proof. Everything’s based on assumptions. Give me one good reason why I
should believe you.”