The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set (46 page)

“I know,” George said. “But that’s their deal and we’re running out of time. The board will have to accept it—or we lose billions.”

“What if this falls through?” Harold asked.

George seemed almost defeated when he said, “I guess we approach someone else.”

*
  
*
  
*

Later, when Harold left Redman International, the black Mercedes limousine that had been waiting on 50th Street started its engine, cut into traffic and cruised to a stop beside him.

Harold stepped away from the curb at the same moment the limousine’s rear door shot open and Vincent Spocatti stepped out.

Harold felt a shock.

Calmly, Spocatti pressed a gun against his side.
 
“Get into the car, Harold.
 
Your day isn’t over yet.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“How about a nightcap?”

Jack turned from the painting of irises he was admiring in the foyer of Celina’s apartment and moved into the living room, where she was standing at a bar.
 
They had just returned from Anastassios Fondaras’ party and it was late.

“Do you have any beer?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”
 
She bent to the small refrigerator that was at her feet, reached inside for something light, which she knew he liked, and then looked at Jack.
 
In her eyes was a spark of humor.
 
“Would you like me to pour it in a champagne glass?”

Although Jack smiled, he seemed distracted as he loosened and removed his black bow tie.
 
“This time, the bottle’s fine.”

He came over to where she was standing and took it from her.
 
He looked at her for a moment, moved to speak, but then sipped his beer.

Celina turned back to the bar and poured herself a glass of wine.
 
She was confused about what happened earlier on the yacht and more than a little angry with Jack, but she didn’t want it to show.
 
She wanted to make love to this man and yet she wasn’t sure if he wanted the same.
 
Why did he stop it from happening at the party?
 
He asked me to follow him below ship and then he stopped it.
 
Why?

“Nervous about tomorrow morning’s jump?”

Celina turned and saw that he had removed his jacket—it now was draped over the chair beside them.
 
He waited for an answer, his gaze meeting hers levelly.

“A little,” she said.
 
“It’s not every day I jump off a bridge with a rubber band strapped to my ankles.”
 
She lifted an eyebrow.
 
“What made you ask?”

“Your hands are trembling.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Tonight, on the yacht, you asked me to follow you below ship.
 
I went with you because I wanted to be with you.
 
But when we arrived at that stateroom, you stopped us from going inside.
 
Why?”

Her question hung in the air.
 
Although she didn’t enjoy being so blunt with him, she wanted an answer.
 
She wanted to know why he hadn’t gone through with it—especially considering he had asked her to follow him.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Jack said.

“And what am I thinking?”

“That I didn’t want to make love to you.
 
That I changed my mind.”
 
He looked at her.
 
“That’s not so.”

“Then what happened?”

“We couldn’t have entered that room even if we wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Because two other people had a similar idea.”

She hadn’t expected this.
 
Surprise reflected in her eyes.
 
“Who was in there?”

A shadow of indecision crossed his face.
  
He wasn’t sure just how much he should tell her.
 
If he told her what he had seen in that split second before he closed the stateroom’s door, it would not only destroy Harold Baines’ career, but his life as well.
 
He made his decision.
 
“I’m not sure who they were,” he said.
 

“But you said you saw two people.”

“It was dark.
 
I couldn’t make out their faces, only that they were men and they were indisposed.”

Color rose in her cheeks.
 
“They were having sex?”

When he shrugged, Celina laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know,” she said.
 
“Maybe I’m jealous that they beat us to it.”

He put down his beer on the table beside him and took a step toward her, his last image of Harold Baines fading.
 
“Anything you want to do about that jealousy?”

“Depends on what you have in mind.”

Wordlessly, Jack pulled her to him.
 
They kissed and Celina knew from the passion in that kiss that there was no turning back now.

She placed her wine glass on the bar, put her hand in his and led him across the living room to her bedroom.
 
There, the city glowed in the windows just beyond the bed.
 
Celina turned to him.
 
Jack moved to her, his mouth found hers again and they began to kiss.

Only this time it was a different kiss.
 
This time it wasn’t as gentle as it was in the living room.
 
Her hands went to his hips, his to her breasts and then to the small of her back.
 
He pulled her closer to him and she felt his erection running up the length of his groin.

Things weren’t moving fast enough.
 
Jack turned Celina and began removing her dress, his lips kissing each area of newly exposed skin.
 
Celina shuddered at the roughness of his shaved chin, the warm breath and moist tongue on her back, the strong hands working their way down to the curve of her buttocks.
 
Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, he unfastened the last button and her dress rippled to her feet.
 

She turned to him, naked, her breasts full with anticipation.
 
She felt vulnerable yet alive.
 
Jack’s gaze roamed over her body and she saw on his face a flash of excitement.
 
She wasn’t wearing underwear.

He leaned forward and brought his head down to her breasts.
 
Celina’s head fell back and she moaned as Jack’s lips found one of her nipples.
 
The waves of pleasure that assailed her were intense.
 
As if sensing her impatience, Jack guided her to the carpet and lay on top of her.
 
She felt how hard he was, how big he was, and suddenly it was she who wanted to be the explorer.

Pushing him off her, Celina straddled him, her breasts only inches from his face.
 
She saw him smile—an intimate, knowing smile—and she heard him gasp when she gave his shirt a quick, brutal tug.
 
Buttons popped and the material separated, exposing his muscular, hairy chest.
 
She stared at him for a moment, her excitement rising, then she dropped her head to his chest and covered one of his nipples with her mouth.

Jack’s back arched.
 
“Jesus,” he said.

She wanted him naked.
 
She sat up, reached down, removed his shoes and socks, then unbuckled his pants.
 
She grabbed at the material and tugged.
 
Jack raised his hips and his pants came off.
 
She threw them aside and they struck a table top, where they slipped into a framed photograph of herself taken years ago in London.
 

It fell to the floor.
 
There was the sound of glass splintering.
 

Celina paid little attention to it—all she saw was Jack.
 
His face was flushed.
 
She knew he was excited and that fueled her to push the limits further.
 
Lowering her head to the waistband of his shorts, she bit the fabric and pulled them off with her teeth.
 
With a flick of her wrist, they sailed across the room, a shadow striking one of the windows.

His penis was unusually large.
 
Celina stared at it, transfixed.
 
Extending from a thatch of dark-brown hair, it lay an inch above his belly button and throbbed in time with each of his uneven breaths.
 
She reached down to touch it.
 
Jack’s breathing became hoarse, his body taut with anticipation.
 
Watching her admire it seemed to inflame him.
 

But Celina didn’t touch it.
 
Instead, she met his gaze with her own and licked the area of skin directly surrounding it.
 
Jack grabbed a handful of her hair.
 
Celina sank on top of him and her nipples brushed the base of his penis.
 
She liked it a little rough.
 
She sensed he did, too.

Suddenly, she stood and went to the table that was across the room.
 
Incredulous, Jack watched her go.
 
“What are you doing?” he said.
 
“Come back here.”

“Wait,” Celina whispered.
 
“Just…wait.”

When she struck the match, her face burst into brilliant, glowing bloom.
 
She lit the candle that was in her hand, blew out the match and started toward him.
 
With the city twinkling in the windows behind her and the candle burning in her hand, she was radiant.
 

She straddled him again and tossed her hair away from her face with a quick flick of her head.
 
Her eyes seemed to challenge his when she looked down at him.
 
“Do you trust me, Jack?”

Jack looked at her, then at the candle flickering in her hand.
 
He knew what she had in mind and it thrilled him.
 
“I trust you,” he said.

She held the candle over his chest, tipped it slightly and allowed the flame to melt the wax.
 
“I’ve never done this before,” she said.
 
“But I’ve always wanted to.
 
Do you think it will hurt?”
 
Before he could respond, she turned the candle onto its side and watched the shimmering droplets of wax rain down onto his chest.

Jack caught his breath and winced, the hot wax rolling towards his stomach in thin rivers.
 
It pooled in his belly button and spilled onto the beige carpet.
 
It wasn’t painful, but it was exhilarating.

And then Celina blew out the candle.

Rising up the length of his body, grinding her body hard against his, she found his mouth with her own and they kissed.
 
Jack reached down and grasped himself.
 
Celina raised her hips and parted her legs.

“Are you ready?” he asked.