The Secret Heiress (8 page)

The light in his eyes momentarily dimmed. “I forgot,” he said. “Why don’t we skip the party, Bianca?”

“I can’t do that, sweetie,” she said. “It’s for my boss, after all. Your boss, too, in a way, since you’re modeling for a PPHL spread right now.”

“Then when?”

“As soon as we get back,” she said.

Frans was mollified by her response. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Bianca said.

He kissed her again. “I can hardly wait.”

“I know,” she said, “but we have to.” She glanced at him thoughtfully, then said, “In the meantime, let’s keep this a secret.
Our
secret.”

He looked puzzled. “But why? Don’t you want everybody to know?”

She shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. “First, I want to tell my father. I don’t want it to be a surprise for him. You understand what I mean?”

Frans nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I know that you treasure your father, and I think that’s good.”

“Yes,” Bianca agreed. “He brought me up by himself, and I think I owe it to him.” Then she added, “Plus, this is Niki’s birthday, and I don’t want to steal any of her thunder, you know?”

“I understand,” he said. “She’s the big boss, and it’s her party.”

“Exactly,” Bianca said.

Azad pulled up in front of the Upper East Side high-rise. “Oh, we’re home,” she said.

“We can celebrate,” Frans said, winking at her.

Bianca looked at her watch. “There’s just enough time.”

 

In the vast monochromatic expanse of Bianca’s bedroom, Frans slid a Luther Vandross CD into the player and turned the volume down low. Bianca pushed a button built in to her bedside table, and hundreds of yards of beige silk draperies automatically slid across the floor-to-ceiling windows that composed two walls of the beautiful room. The views of Manhattan and Queens were spectacular from her aerie, but she preferred the insular protection of a womblike enclosure for their lovemaking.

Frans crossed the thick, soft carpeting to her, his sensuous lips framed in a smile. Encircling her with his arms, he drew her close. Bianca returned his kiss as she put her arms around him, running her hands up and down his long, muscular back and up into his tousled blond hair. His tongue delved between her lips and explored her with desire while his hands trailed down her back and cupped her firm, rounded cheeks, then pulled her against his hard, powerful body.

Bianca sighed with pleasure. She could already feel the swell in his leather jeans, and she held on to him tightly, as if to a lifeline. Frans began kissing and licking her ears, then traced a feathery pattern around her long, slender neck with his tongue. His hands moved up her spine, massaging her along the way before coming to rest on her breasts. He began caressing them through her clothing, and Bianca felt her body tremble with desire.

Frans drew back and gazed into her eyes. “Let me undress you,” he whispered.

She let him slip the black cashmere sweater she wore over her head. Her black shoulder-length hair was a mess, but she didn’t care. He drew her close and kissed the cleavage between her ample breasts while undoing the single hook that kept her black bra in place. When her breasts sprang free, Frans moaned with passion, first caressing them with his hands, then bending to them and kissing and licking each one. Bianca mewled with carnal delight when she felt his tongue on her nipples, thrumming them in turn, until they hardened with desire. She felt jolts of electric pleasure rush through her body, from her spine to her extremities.

Straightening up, Frans kissed her lips again, then went down on his knees and unzipped her high-heeled boots one at a time. After he freed her of her skirt, he remained on his knees and slid her panty hose off. He looked up into her eyes again while placing his hands on her buttocks, stroking them gently. When he buried his face between her thighs, Bianca cried out and held his head once more, her fingers intertwined with his long blond hair. She felt his lips kiss her, his tongue enter her, and the pleasure was exquisite.

“Frans,” she whispered.“Oh, Frans . . . I . . . I . . . oh . . .”

He quickly stood up and wrapped his arms around her nakedness. “Oh, Bianca,” he said, “I love you. I love you so much.”

“And I love you,” she rasped. “I love you, too.”

He pulled off his heavy sweater in one swift motion, tossing it to the floor, then slipped his T-shirt over his head and flung it away. He kicked off his scuffed boots, pulled off his socks, and undid his belt. He shimmied out of his leather jeans, then stood before her naked. He was wearing no underwear.

Bianca sucked in her breath. His magnificent body never failed to enthrall her. His broad shoulders and powerfully muscled chest tapered down to a narrow waist with prominent abs and slim hips. He was fully engorged. He encircled her with his arms again, the tribal tattoos that decorated them flashing before her eyes as he drew her against his warm hardness.

“Let’s get in bed,” he whispered, licking her ear. “I can’t wait another minute.”

She nodded, and they lay down next to each other. “I want to make you so happy,” he said.

“You do, Frans. Nobody’s ever made me feel like you do.”

He kissed her passionately as he eased himself atop her. Cupping her breasts in his hands, he ran his tongue down her torso, licking her, his breath hot like an erotic whisper on her flesh. She lifted her hips to meet him as he inevitably reached the mound between her thighs, where he delved between her lips with impassioned vigor, as if he could never get enough of her. Bianca cried out in ecstasy, and her body trembled, her erotic desire for Frans almost overwhelming.

He went up on his knees and gazed down into her eyes, a smile on his lips. “I love you,” he rasped. “I love you.” He leaned down and kissed her with renewed passion, slowly entering her, teasingly withholding the complete length and breadth of his manhood as long as possible.

Moaning with lust, Bianca thrust herself up against Frans, so anxious was she to have all of him, to savor all of him inside her. She threw her arms around his shoulders, drawing him closer, and Frans finally entered her completely. Bianca held on to him with all her might, never wanting to let him go. Frans began withdrawing slowly, then entering her again, panting with his carnal desire for her. Unable to restrain himself, he began moving with complete abandon, his lips on hers, kissing her voraciously, his hands on her buttocks, pushing her against him powerfully.

Bianca felt the first spasm of ecstasy, and she cried out. Her body took over, thrashing from side to side and up and down. Frans emitted a loud groan as he abruptly flooded her with his juices, his body momentarily rigid as he let loose again and again inside her until he had spent himself. In one swift movement he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to him with all his might and smothering her face with kisses of gratitude. They both panted, their bodies heaving, their lust sated for the time being.

For a long time, they lay still, their bodies entwined as they caught their breath. They were covered with the sheen of sweat from their passion. Frans eased onto his side, bringing her with him, so that he remained inside her warmth. They gazed into each other’s eyes and smiled simultaneously.

“That was so wonderful,” he said softly. “You’re so wonderful. No woman has ever made me this happy.”

“I feel the same way,” Bianca replied in a whispery rasp. “I feel so . . . complete, so fulfilled.”

He kissed her and hugged her closer. “I’m enraptured,” Frans said with a smile. “I think you’ve put a spell on me, and I don’t want it broken. Ever.”

Bianca could hardly believe this was happening. Fate, she thought, had brought them together. Two mismatched souls from thousands of miles apart, as different as night and day but somehow perfect together.

“I didn’t know I could be so in love,” she finally said. “You’re not only the greatest-looking man I know, but you must be the greatest lover in the world.”

“Only because of you,” he said, stroking her face tenderly, then taking a breast in his hand and nibbling its rosy nipple.

Bianca could feel him stirring within her and let out a gasp. “Oh, my God,” she said. “Oh . . . oh . . .”

He pulled her closer and began kissing her passionately, but Bianca pulled away after a moment. “We . . . we don’t have time, Frans. The plane . . . the party.”

He pulled her close again. “We have time,” he said with a smile. He began kissing her passionately again, and Bianca gave herself up to the moment completely, to him, to the joy that they’d found together. For one of the few times in her life, she felt that she was completely alive.

We’ll get to the plane on time,
she thought,
and if we don’t . . . ? This is worth it. This is worth anything.

 

 

 

 

P
aradise Rock, the entire seaside resort, had been taken over for Nikoletta Papadaki’s birthday party. PPHL owned the resort, and it had always been totally booked for the months of January and February. But over the protests of several executives, Niki forced the manager to cancel all reservations that had been made for the week of her birthday. For her twenty-first-birthday party she was calling the shots, and nobody else was going to have a say.

“Poseidon’s Orgy” was the theme engraved on the invitations that went out to guests from around the world, and they had been instructed to costume themselves appropriately. Around one of the swimming pools the international-society set talked, drank, and danced, more than a few of them dressed in “fish scale” bikinis or thongs and variations on sea-related costumes. A young heiress from France was attired in a revealing outfit consisting of cleverly placed seashells and little else, and her Argentinean boyfriend, not to be outdone, wore nothing but a cascade of Capiz shells artfully applied to the front of a thong. Like many of the other guests, they had devoted hours to ensure that their costumes were made and fitted in time.

For their enjoyment, mermaids and mermen—magnificently built young strippers who had been flown in for the party—swam, posed, and cavorted among synchronized fountains that leaped into the air. Blue and green lights accompanied the airy patterns created by the jets of water, adding to the dazzling display. In the background, the trance mixer DJ Scary, who had come from Paris for the occasion, pumped out the music. It was a crowd he knew well, having played at parties around the globe for varying mixtures of the same set and their friends and hangers-on.

At a distance from the noise of the party three of the few older party guests stood in a group, chatting and drinking. Their faces wore smiles, but they weren’t happy.

“Paradise Rock is almost unrecognizable,” Angelo Coveri muttered after taking a sip of his red-wine spritzer. His gaze swept the scene. “The entire resort looks blue and green.”

“As well it should,” countered Sugar Rosebury dryly. “Especially considering the millions of company dollars that have been squandered.”

“What are you three talking about?” Honor Hurlstone asked as she joined them. “You look like the three witches in
Macbeth
conjuring some sort of plot.”

Sugar laughed, and the women exchanged air kisses. “You look heavenly,” Sugar exclaimed. “I love your dress.”

“Thank you,” Honor said. “I thought it was appropriate. This embroidery looks like seaweed or something, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm,” Sugar said, fingering the delicate silk between her fingers. “And coral. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“So is yours,” Honor said, “but then you’re always dressed like a million dollars.”

“You both look beautiful,” Yves Carre said.

“Have you seen Adrian?” Angelo Coveri asked. Adrian Single was the New York CEO of PPHL and in charge of North and South American operations and had been Nikos Papadaki’s most trusted ally. He was the glue that held together the board of the gigantic corporation, but perhaps most importantly, he had always been the only person who could influence Nikoletta since her father’s death.

“He’s right behind me,” Honor replied.

Approaching them, Adrian took a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray. “Is everyone having a good time?” he asked.

“I think so,” Honor said. “Certainly all of Niki’s friends seem to be having a great time.”

“It’s a great party, Adrian,” Sugar said, looking about. “It’s beautiful. All the lights and candles. The fountains. Everything.”

“You must be exhausted,” Honor said, looking at him. “You’ve been in the air almost constantly for days. Belarus. New York to Scotland and back. Then here.”

“I’m fine,” he said with a smile. “I always catch a few winks in flight.” In fact, what his sister had said was true. He was very tired, but not for the reasons she thought. He’d made a side trip up to the Berkshires in western Massachusetts, where Williams College was located.