Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels (124 page)

Her mouth fell open. Henry had called her to apologize? Before the scandal? Well, so Carl said. The phone in the studio didn’t have an answering machine, so she couldn’t verify it but clearly Carl would do anything for his friend. She snapped her mouth shut. “No. But we’re closed on Sundays. Henry knew that.”

“He called the only number he had for you, Sophie. Look, does Henry have baggage? Of course he does. Everyone does. Can you honestly tell me your past doesn’t occasionally inform your present?”

Her past, particularly the injury and the end of her relationship with Christian, had a lot to do with the way she reacted to things. She knew that. Was she being unfair to Henry? Carl seemed to think so.

“Henry knew what my baggage was before we were involved. I told him. He didn’t do me the same courtesy.” That was true. He’d hid from her. But hadn’t she known that? And she’d slept with him anyway. She really did only have herself to blame.

“Look, I came here—on my own, I might add—to ask you to give him a chance to fix this.”

Sophie slumped against the wall. Just the thought of making herself vulnerable to Henry again made her heart sink. “He’s just worried about his business,” she shot back. But it was a last ditch refusal.

“Sophie, I haven’t seen him like this since—since—well to be honest I’ve never seen him like this before. He hasn’t slept, he can’t eat, and forget about work. Why did you think I came here to ask a you to give him a chance? And no offense, but this scandal will hardly bring Henry down. He’s not worried about his business. It’s a nuisance, that’s all. But it’ll ruin you.”

Did Henry really care that much about her that he was that broken up about the scandal? It wasn’t just an act for her? Which was a bigger danger to her? Losing her business or spending a few uncomfortable hours with Henry?

Carl was right. She did have much more to lose than Henry and she didn’t have any better ideas, even after a night of watching rom-coms with Darren and Wayne.  If she risked her last stake in the dance world just to prove a point she would never forgive herself.

“Fine, I’ll participate in Henry’s charade. But that’s all it will be.”

Carl clapped his hands. “That’s all he’s asking for.”

Sophie toed the makeshift tap shoes she’d been working on earlier. She never thought she’d be paying such a high price for just one dance.

***

Sophie stared into her closet and plucked at her lower lip. She’d pushed all the t-shirts and blouses aside, uncovering the second row of clothes. Her dresses. There was an entire rod full of bright hued creations in satin and silk adorned with ruffles, sequins and plunging necklines. Every single one of them held a memory. A competition, a dance, a time when Christian was holding her in his arms.  She fingered the dresses, determined not to think about any of those memories now. She had bigger things to worry about.

“Henry’s got a black tie event tonight. You guys can use it as your ‘coming out’,” Carl had said. And now here she was, standing in front of a closet full of dresses that she hadn’t worn in years.

She heard the apartment door shut and quick footsteps crossing to her bedroom door. “Stop worrying, I’m here!” Darren called out as he pushed into the room.

“I can’t wear any of this,” she said despondently as she eyed Darren.

“What’s the occasion?”

Sophie slid her gaze away from him. She called him after Carl had left and asked him to help her get ready for a night out, but she hadn’t given him any details. “I sort of agreed to go along with Henry’s scheme and he’s got a black tie event tonight. We’re going as a couple,” she said quickly, trying to soften the blow of the news.

Darren frowned. “Henry as in ‘we’re going to stick it to Henry Medina’?”

“Yes?” She plopped onto the end of her bed. “I didn’t have any other choice. Trust me, I considered all of my options. If I don’t do something fast the business is done and my second career is over. I don’t think I can handle that again.”

He sat down beside her and took her hand. “Just be careful, Soph. He might have some ulterior motive in all of this.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she assured him with a watery grin. “I am not in the least bit interested in pursuing anything with him. I’m only doing this to save the studio, my reputation, and both our jobs.”

“So you’re not worried about getting caught in the crossfire again?”

“Once I clear my name I won’t be seeing him anymore. Look, tonight isn’t about him, Dar. It’s about me.”

He narrowed his eyes in consideration before patting her hand and popping to his feet. “In that case, we need to make you look as hot as possible for your final tabloid appearance! ”

Sophie laughed as he began rummaging through her closet. Almost immediately, he snagged a golden yellow dress scattered with glittering rhinestones and thrust it at her. The skirt was floor length, but slit up the center to allow for ease of movement when dancing tango. She pulled off her workout attire and shimmied into the tight dress, turning to look at herself in the mirror.

“No,” Sophie said as soon as she realized that the dress bared her knee. She could see that low back flattered her figure and the yellow hue made her skin glow, but no matter how good she looked otherwise, her mangled knee was the first thing anyone’s eyes would be drawn to.

Darren sighed. He turned to the closet and studied the remaining dresses. Embarrassment and anger burned in the back of Sophie’s throat. Damn Henry Medina for putting her in this position!

Darren pulled out a cherry red silk dress and held it up. It was strapless, tight as a glove until mid thigh, where it flared out in a fall of black feathers. She’d never danced in it, but she had attended several functions with Christian in the sexy gown. It pushed her breasts up, giving her about a mile of cleavage. Sophie’s heart thumped at the prospect. She shook her head.

He sighed. “What’s wrong with this one?”

Sophie crumpled back onto the bed, tugging the yellow satin over her disfigured knee. “The same thing that’s wrong with all the others,” she whispered, eyes downcast. Still, she didn’t miss Darren’s crossed arms or cocked eyebrow.

“And what’s that?”

“Me. I can’t do this, Dar. I was crazy to agree to it. This event is going to be sophisticated, and I’m just...” she motioned vaguely at the bright red gown he still held, “not.” Tears pricked her eyes.

Darren lay the dress on the edge of her bed and knelt in front of her. “Soph, you’re one of the best dancers the world has ever seen, and now you’re a successful business owner. These people should be thankful that you’re attending their boring event. You’re going to put on a gorgeous dress, and take your gorgeous face to this ball and knock them all on their asses.”

“I am?” she sniffled.

“You are.” He nodded his head assuredly, ending any more discussion of Sophie’s shortcomings.  

She gave him a wan smile. “Okay, but I really can’t wear any of this.”

He’d just opened his mouth to answer when a loud rap at her apartment door startled them both.

“Are we expecting any more company?” he asked.

“No.” She rose with a frown and walked slowly toward the apartment door, Darren following behind her.

Her spine went stiff as she pulled the door open and looked up into the striking face of Henry Medina. “What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question, but she hadn’t been expecting him at her doorstep so soon. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored tuxedo, its cut accentuating his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the long line of his well-muscled legs. His olive skin stood out lustrously against the starched white of his shirt. Mother-of-pearl cufflinks glinted at his wrists, and his shoes were polished to a high shine. There were bags under his eyes, apparently Carl hadn’t been lying.

He was here to pick her up, and she was still in the dress that bared her bad knee. She bit her lip to stave off the tears that she felt welling up as Henry extended a garment bag toward her. “I thought you might need something to wear.”

“I don’t need you to dress me,” she snapped.

“Would you just try it on please?”

She glanced down at the garment bag, fully aware that none of her own dresses were going to work. “Fine, no promises though.” She tugged the bag’s zipper down, revealing the shimmery gleam of silver. She gasped, but Darren’s gasp was louder.

“I think that’s Oscar de la Renta! You
have
to try it on,” Darren hissed.

She spun on her bare heel and stalked into the bedroom in an attempt to shield her enthusiasm from Henry. But when she unzipped the bag completely and gazed at the vision of a dress that he had brought her she practically squealed.

She stepped out of the yellow satin and slid the cool silk up her body, shivering at the musical tinkle of the silver beads that made up the fringe. Zipped up, the dress fit her like a glove, hugging her body in its soft embrace. A thin silver belt cinched the waist beneath the curtain of silver beading that fell from the neckline. Layer after layer of fringe fell from her mid-thigh down to her toes. Though it clung to her breasts, hips, and backside, the scoop neck was quite modest, and the skirt reached the floor.

As she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt graceful, elegant and feminine in a way she hadn’t since before the accident. She bit her lip and glided back out into the living room, both men turning to her as she approached them. Darren’s mouth dropped open and his green eyes popped wide. “Oh, Sophie! You look amazing!”

A muscle in Henry’s jaw tightened and his black eyes gleamed, but he didn’t speak. She brushed her fingers against the beaded fringe at her knee, setting it ringing softly. “I don’t know. It’s beautiful, but...”

“You look stunning in that dress. You have to wear it
somewhere
. Even if it is out with him.” Darren jerked a thumb in Henry’s direction. Henry ignored the jibe, though she saw his mouth tighten a little at the corners.

“Darren’s right,” he said, flashing the blond man a quick, dark look. “You do look incredible. You should let people see you in that dress.”

She actually felt pretty incredible too. But anxiety was knotting in her stomach. “I don’t have shoes to go—”

Henry extended a box. “I almost forgot.” His lips twitched upward this time as he suppressed a smile.

She took the box hesitantly, caught off guard by how prepared Henry was. “I’ll go try them on.”

Darren touched her arm. “Since my work here is done, I’m going to go. Call me when you get home, okay?” He brushed a kiss against her cheek. She nodded, shooting a quick glance at Henry. Darren clearly didn’t want to spend any extended time in his company, and she didn’t blame him. Gorgeous dress or no, just because she’d agreed to his scheme didn’t mean she wasn’t still completely livid.

“Night, Dar. Thanks for your help.”

He flapped a hand at her and headed out the apartment door, completely ignoring Henry Medina.

“Can you give me a few minutes? I just need to finish getting ready,” she said, turning to Henry.

“I’ll wait here,” he said, taking a seat on Sophie’s couch and grabbing a magazine from her coffee table.

She went into the bathroom and began rummaging through her make-up. It had been so long since she’d done anything but a little eyeliner and lip gloss that she was momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer prospect of having to get made up.

But once she’d taken a deep breath it came back surprisingly easy. She’d been blessed with good skin, so she skipped a heavy liquid foundation in favor of a lighter foundation mousse, and she warmed the curve of her cheekbone with a little bronzer. A dramatic smoky eye and a dark cherry lip lent a subtle sexiness to her otherwise natural look.

She moved onto her hair, fashioning it into a smooth French twist and clipping it with a sparkling silver pin that matched her beaded silver earrings.  Satisfied that she’d done all she could, she opened the shoe box Henry had brought.

She inhaled sharply. The heels inside were gorgeous, maybe even moreso than the dress. A four and a half inch heel with a peep toe, the shoe was covered with tiny, shimmering crystals. She slipped them on, once again marveling that he seemed to know her exact size.

It was time to face the music. Or the paparazzi, rather. She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and glided back into her living room. Henry glanced up from the magazine, his hungry gaze attaching to her immediately. The look shot through her like a bullet. She stilled, spine stiffening, as his eyes raked her from head to toe. She felt her own hunger flare low in her belly. She remembered the feel of his lips on her skin, the dark, commanding tone of his voice as he’d told her to kneel in his bedroom. She shivered.

“We’d better get going.” Her voice came out wispy, but he jumped to his feet. “The limo is waiting.” He motioned her to precede him out the door. Sophie went, hoping he wouldn’t try to touch her. She was hanging on by a thread—one brush of his hand could set her off and Sophie didn’t know if she’d laugh, or cry, hit him, or throw herself at him.

He didn’t touch her. Sophie breathed a small sigh of relief, and disappointment, as they climbed into the elevator in silence. This was going to be a long night.

Chapter Eleven

Sophie tried not to twist her hands into the lovely fabric of her dress. She stared out the window, willing the traffic to move faster. But they were nearly at a standstill. Neither one of them had spoken since they had left her apartment and the silence was growing unwieldy. There was no way they could go out in public like this. No one would believe they were a couple.

Perhaps, if she could get them both feeling more relaxed, things would go more smoothly. “Do you go to this type of thing often?”

“It’s part of the job.” His eyes cut quickly to her and then away.

“Which is what, exactly? If we’re supposed to be a couple, shouldn’t I know what Medina Properties does?”

Henry shifted in his seat, finally looking at her. “We buy and sell land, mostly. Develop real estate. It’s not very interesting and most of the people there won’t want to talk about business anyway.”