No. We’d finish this now.
“Six weeks,” I said to the room, my voice loud and commanding enough that everyone fell silent. “I have devoted my time to building this company, to growing it. When you look at my division’s numbers compared to the company as a whole, it proves what I can do. But I also see that image matters to you. And I value your opinions.” That was a lie, but I could play the goddamn game. “Therefore, I’m asking for six weeks. Give me six weeks to improve it. Give me six weeks to become a regular on the society pages for the right reasons. And then we’ll vote.”
They deliberate for a moment amid anxious murmurs.
“Six weeks?” my father asked. “For what? You won’t change your stripes, boy. You’ll just hide it better… and then once you’re CEO, you’ll keep doing it. Keep ruining the family name with your predilections. No, if you want the board to believe you, you need something more than that. You need a wife.”
Chapter Two
Lucian
I’d always been a monster for seeking out the forbidden.
The exclusive BDSM club was my usual hunting ground. That was where I found women who begged for what I had to offer—sex with pain instead of romance.
My father was fucking with me. So was the board, for that matter. It was a final hurdle to jump before taking control of Morelli Holdings. A test, to see if I could play their little games of diplomacy and class warfare.
Two could play that game.
A nice, docile woman. That’s what the board wants me to find. Someone well bred. Someone well-mannered, as if I were buying a horse. And so I had to go shopping where well-bred wives were sold—at a party thrown by the Constantine family.
Disguised by nothing more than a black leather mask covering half my face, I mingled my way through the guests. I was right at the heart of it—pompous bullshit, all of it fake. Fake pretenses. Fake smiles. Everything I’d have expected from the Constantines.
And the little bride I hunted.
“Champagne, sir?”
I shook my head and fixed the waitress in my stare. “Mineral water.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
She scuttled away, rattling her tray of glasses as she went.
Tinsley Constantine’s coming-of-age masked ball was bursting at the seams. Hundreds of rich people chattering in costumes, and I was twisting amongst them like a vine with invisible thorns.
They didn’t know a Morelli walked among them.
Constantines swarmed the place, billowing through the masses with their beautiful, blonde bullshit. Vivian, Keaton, and Tinsley herself were prancing around as though they were on a film set, but not nearly so much as Caroline. The matriarch was dressed up like an ice queen in a diamanté mask, smiling at everyone she passed.
It wasn’t Caroline who caught my attention.
No. It was the much younger woman in gold. She was beautiful, but there were plenty of beautiful women. There was something else about her. She was twice as alive as anyone else. Vibrant. Animated. Full of feeling, which is something I severely lacked.
She owned the room without even trying.
Elaine Constantine.
She wore a Venetian mask that covered so much of her face I could barely make out her features, but that didn’t matter. I didn’t need to see her face.
The visible parts of her were enough to drive me wild. Hair like silk and gold. I wanted my fingers in it—why? No explanation came to mind. I wanted to run my thumb over the soft pout of her lips while she watched me with eyes so big and blue they reminded me of a song. Me. A song. It was ludicrous, but that didn’t make it any less true.
I watched her from guest to guest, swigging back the fizz and laughing at each one like they were the most hilarious person she’d ever met. Her laugh was sexy and flirty, with enough husky lower notes to make me hard beneath my tux.
I wasn’t in the business of deep emotions. Didn’t allow them. Abhorred them. But the woman made me feel something. A pressure in my chest. A sharp curiosity. I wanted more than the usual pain and tears. I wanted more.
I couldn’t stop looking at her.
The gold silk of her ballgown was a perfect fit on a perfect body.
Sloping curves in a delicious hourglass—a gorgeous pedestal of glamor to highlight the elegance of her slender neck. Oh, how I’d love to feel her pulse there as I fucked her how she liked it. As I showed her how she liked it.
Rough.
Because, of course, in my head, Elaine Constantine was not well-mannered or well-bred. If she was to be my wife, she would learn to love kink. I’d make sure of that.
Her blonde curls were held up in twists that glittered with diamonds. Her fingers were perfectly manicured and glittering to match, sparkling under the chandelier lights every time she reached out a hand for some nobody to kiss it.
Lust had my cock throbbing.
Lust—and something else. I wanted to take her body.
Slowly.
Deeply.
Painfully.
I wanted to see her hurt. I wanted to hear her cry. I wanted to feel her body fight me as she begged me to stop, even though her pussy was screaming for more.
“Lucian? I wasn’t expecting to see you here!”
I turned to face the voice at my side and pasted on a grim smile.
It was Baron Rawlings, his red face still recognizable under his opera mask. Jesus Christ, even the British aristocracy had flown in for this. A teenager’s birthday party turned into the social event of the season. I wondered how Tinsley felt about that, before remembering she was a Constantine. I didn’t care how they felt.
I shook his sweaty hand. “Good evening, Baron. A pleasure to see you. I’m incognito, if you don’t mind. It would be better if people don’t know a Morelli crashed the party.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” he assured me. “I loved your latest interview. About the Windleys and their investment changes. Excellent points. I called my broker right away.”
“Why, thank you. I’m very pleased Forbes called me. Again.”
The waitress delivered my mineral water and scurried away again with another thank you, sir, thank you. She was pretty. A tight ass. Maybe on another night, I might bring her to the club. Then again, this was no ordinary night.
I half-listened to Baron Rawlings’s small talk. He tried to convince me to write an article on him and his heritage. Even a Constantine would have rolled his eyes at that one.
When Joseph Eddington came cruising up with a “Rawlings!” I used the moment to make my exit, and there she was again, waiting to transfix me, the woman in gold.
She brushed by me on her way to the next little cluster of guests, close enough that I could smell her. Orchids and plum. Rich. Posh. Fake.
I had to remember that about her. She was playing a part. So was I.
The woman was definitely tipsy. Laughing a touch too loud. Swaying in that sexy manner. Champagne? Yes. Cocaine? Possibly. I could virtually taste it in the air around her as I heard the click of her heels against the polished floor. But there was more.
Something…darker…
Secrets. I could see them inside her, burning deep. A chasm in her façade that people were failing to see. I could see right to the heart of her.
The wild child of the whole Constantine family.
I knew of her, everyone did, the party girl with desperate eyes. Always on the raucous outskirts of Bishop’s Landing, hitting the clubs in NYC and getting pictured in tabloids. It was the behavior that spoke of some personal pain, some secret demons haunting her.