Devotion - Billionaire Contemporary Romance Novel (10 page)

Chapter Six

It was already nine thirty when Isabel made the spontaneous decision to call a cab and leave her house for the night.  She had spent the entire evening with Aidan and her mother.  They had cooked dinner and eaten together for the first time in weeks.  Despite her mother’s disapproval, Isabel and Aidan constructed an enormous fort across the living furniture with sheets, pillows, and her mother’s favorite quilted blanket, and relocated all of Aidan’s dinosaurs, trucks, airplanes, trains, stuffed animals and even their dessert—strawberries with whipped cream—under the expansive fortress for a night of indoor dragon hunting and flashlight puppet theater. Together, they encouraged Nica to go to bed early while mother and son dragon-slayers stayed up extra late to protect the castle and discuss the difference between good dragons and bad dragons, and all the magical reasons why they were both fire-breathing and invisible.  Then, after promising Aidan that they could do it all over again tomorrow morning, she coaxed him up the stairs and into bed where she lay next to him until he soundly fell asleep; but not before he let her know she was the best mommy in the world and his very bestest friend.

When she left his bedroom, she heard the routine sound of her mother’s nasal snoring.  Isabel slipped into her spare bedroom and closed her door.  After arriving home from the office, Aidan had barely given her a chance to deposit her purse in her room, much less allow her to change out of her work clothes.  Now, she sighed with relief as she peeled off her skirt, panty hose, and silk blouse, and released her hair from its French twist bondage—
safe and conservative
.  Even when she dressed up for fancy galas, like the one last night, she rarely wore her hair down.  But as she peered at her own image in her dressing table’s oval mirror, she allowed her long brown hair to cascade below her bare shoulders.  Isabel always felt so much older than her twenty-nine years. 
Almost thirty
.  Ever since deciding not to terminate her unexpected pregnancy and choosing motherhood over college graduation, she felt like she had skipped over her carefree youth and skidded past the prime of her life.  Now, as she stared at her own reflection in the dim light—her black spandex bra, her bare shoulders, her flowing locks of hair—she silently acknowledged the possibility of an alluring woman staring back at her.  It was an image she generally ignored or dismissed because there was no reason to entertain it.  But now, her eyes fell upon the Chihuly swan vase and its single dried rose, its petals curling with resignation.  It was the lone remnant of the blush pink roses that she had discarded earlier that morning, and the solitary reminder of the fact than someone else wished to admire her the way she secretly hoped someone would—as an attractive, passionate woman who yearned to be more than someone’s mother, daughter, and executive assistant.  An attractive passionate woman capable of experiencing desire and reciprocating it. 

Isabel turned to her purse and fished out the red leatherette Cartier box.  She creaked open its hinges and settled her eyes on the stunning sapphire and diamond necklace resting inside its black velvet interior.  It was the first time she truly allowed herself to admire it as her very own.  In the privacy of her own bedroom—without the oppressive office politics and her own conflicted feelings of obligation influencing her every glance and thought.  Isabel indulged in the necklace’s scintillating brilliance as she gently lifted it out of its case.  She lifted up her hair and slipped it around her bare neck, its sleek platinum setting and majestic gemstones pressing heavy against her skin.  Fastening its sturdy clasp, she relaxed her shoulders and submitted herself to the cool touch of its elegance.  How her admirer knew her birthstone was sapphire, she had no idea.  But only a man who had studied her with silent adoration could calculate how perfectly the necklace would adorn her neckline and accentuate the flashing spitfire within her smoldering Spanish eyes.  

Passionate.  Sexy.  Seductive
.  They were all aspects of her personality that she was forced to suppress on a daily basis because there was no place for personal emotions and desires in her professional career or around her family at home. 
Passionate, sexy, seductive
—they were emotions that kindled inside her as she touched her own bare shoulder and imagined what it would feel like to be caressed by a man determined to express his own desire for her.  She glanced down at the white lingerie box that rested on her dressing table, then turned towards her closet and quickly pulled out her favorite black dress.  She wrapped it around her torso and tied its sash across her hips.  The simple cocktail dress hugged her figure with sophistication, but its plunging neckline suggested something more than just modesty and grace.  Isabel had never had much cleavage, but the dress insinuated that she had just enough to spark a second lingering glance. 
It was the perfect dress for the night
, she thought, adjusting the sapphire and diamond necklace along her neck.  It was the perfect dress to accept his invitation, pretending she was the woman he wanted her to be—if only for a brief few hours—before she intended to return the necklace and decline any additional offers to reunite again.

Quietly, Isabel called for a cab while jotting a note for her mother.  She exited her bedroom and crept down the dark staircase, stopping at its base to leave the note on the hall tree while retrieving her full-length winter trench coat and fuchsia silk scarf from the closet. 
Just a touch of color and flair
, she thought as she slipped out of the house and into the idling taxi, fully anticipating she would return less than two hours later—before anyone would notice she had ever left.

* * * *

The cab turned onto Superior Street and Isabel spotted the Peninsula Hotel.  She glanced at the clock on the taxi’s dashboard—
9:55pm. 
As
the taxi driver pulled into the circular driveway, she surveyed the hotel’s regal front entrance and clutched her purse, considering the implications of her arrival.  The doorman, dressed in a forest green suit with gold lapels, opened her door and extended his hand.  She paid the cabbie and exited the taxi. 

Isabel knew very little about The Peninsula, except that it was known for its luxury rooftop spas—some of the most revered sanctuaries of relaxation in the world.  But more importantly, she knew The Peninsula Hotel was a conspicuously neutral location.  The building was owned by an Asian investment firm who had no other real estate properties in the city, so there was nothing that hinted at a connection to any of Phillip’s colleagues or his direct competitors, nothing to dissuade her from entering through the broad revolving doors and into the hotel’s luxurious lobby—nothing except her own inhibitions.

“The Duchess Suite?”  she asked the doorman.

“Of course,” he said with a nod, as if he had been expecting her. “Take the elevators to the nineteenth floor.  It’s the private suite at the end of the hall.”  He rolled open the revolving door, assisting her entrance.

A private suite
.  Isabel took in a deep breath. 
Was she really doing this…? 
She touched the diamond and sapphire necklace hidden under her silk scarf.
  Yes, she was
. 
She really was…

As Isabel entered the grand lobby, she strode across its white marble floors and under its scintillating chandeliers while turning her attention towards a lobby attendant, stationed near the elevators.  He curtly greeted her with a smile and waited for her instructions.

“Hello, The Duchess Suite on the nineteenth floor.”

“Of course,” he nodded and pressed the elevator’s call button for her.

She entered the elevator cab and watched as the lobby attendant allowed its doors to slide shut, shuttling her upwards without warning.  Isabel glanced at her own reflection in the gold-plated doors.  Her black trench coat and modest heels revealed nothing about the anticipation that overwhelmed her heart.  Years of dinner meetings and after-hours drinks with wealthy, powerful men had taught Isabel how to appear calm and collected, especially when so often she was the only woman in the group. But now, she felt an urgency to stop the trembling of her hands despite the fact that it was true that she didn’t know—for certain—the identity of the man she was going to meet once she stepped out of the elevator.  She had crossed paths with so many men over the years—so many lawyers, real estate brokers, building owners, property managers—who had insinuated their attraction for her through sexually-charged quips and lingering glances. 
It could be any one of them
.

Her anxiety was heightened by the fact that it had been years—years—since she had shared a bed with
any
man.  She had long since accepted the fact that her life as a single mother and a workaholic prohibited her from indulging in life as a sexual woman.  Plus, her pool of options were limited to the men she met at work, and her desire to prove herself professionally meant she had to make careful choices about her personal life. 
Yes, he could be any one of them
. It was impossible to know who might want to seduce her in such an intimate, enigmatic way, but the sudden hush within her soul confirmed a certainty within herself—she was willing to take the personal and emotional risks to find out.

The elevator slowed to a stop.  Its chime rang as the doors shimmered open, allowing Isabel to cautiously exit the cab.  She surveyed the floor; it was quiet and empty.  There were no other hotel rooms and no other guests.  There was simply a long private hallway ending with a dark mahogany door, propped open like an alluring invitation, beckoning her through it. 

“Hello?” she called out faintly while creeping farther down the hallway, catching glimpses inside the luxury suite—modern accents of Asian décor, a churning cylindrical fireplace, a stately leather sofa.  But it wasn’t until she fully passed inside its interior that Isabel spotted the contemporary glass dining table, dressed with a full bouquet of stunning magenta pink roses, their sweet scent perfuming the air and relaxing her senses.  There were two full glasses of white wine, paired next to each other, and a silver-plated bucket chilling the bottle. Then, Isabel spotted something else resting on the table, something unusual and unexpected, something that quickly told her that she had not fully calculated all the expectations of her mysterious suitor…she saw a black silk blindfold. It was draped across a silver serving tray, positioned like a conspicuous offering at the head of the table.  Isabel stared at it, taking in all its implications, until the stern command interrupted her thoughts.

“Do not look behind you.”

She froze, sensing his lurking presence drifting behind her; then she heard the heavy weight of the suite’s door, clicking shut with finality. 

She peered out the panoramic windows straight ahead of her, attempting to garner a glimpse of his reflection in the black canvas of its floor-to-ceiling glass.
But of course, he had considered that
.  She could see nothing more than city lights refracting back the images of the adjacent commercial stores and skyscrapers, flanking the broad boulevard of Michigan Avenue. 

“Take a drink of the wine.” It was an order, not an offer.

Isabel shifted her gaze to the dining table and noted the bottle’s label:
Riesling—her favorite
.  Her memory swam over all her recent dinner meetings and evening cocktails. 
Someone who knew her favorite wine, her birthday, her favorite color
. 
Someone who knew her better than she even thought
.  Isabel approached the table and downed half the glass. 

“Take off your coat,” he said firmly, his voice pushing in closer.

His voice—his voice should reveal his identity.
Isabel floundered.  Instead of confirming his identity, it confused her more.  Well-educated and perhaps a trace of a New England accent?  Merciless and forceful, but also smooth and seductive. 

“I’m not certain that I’m going to stay…” She lifted her chin and slightly adjusted her head, testing the boundaries he had suddenly placed on her.

  Her suitor responded by moving directly behind her, placing his possessive palm on her shoulder, tempering her instinct to defy him.  When he felt certain she would not betray him, he secured his strong hands along the belt of her trench coat and stripped it out from its loop holes, spreading open the lapels.  He cautiously edged it off her shoulders, revealing her black dress and sapphire diamond necklace.

“Are you wearing it?” His hot breath lingered next to her ear.

Isabel’s mind spun in a whirl.  The familiarity of his voice was hard to place, made even harder by his deliberate attempt to mask it through sparse exchanges and whispering breaths. 

“No, it’s in my purse.” 

Like an answer to her challenge, he encircled his domineering hand around her waist and pinned her body against his chest.  The hard, metallic buttons of his shirt pricked against her spine and the smooth silk of his dress pants brushed against the back of her calves.  She closed her eyes and felt herself consciously exhale, attempting to quell her internal protest as he passed his hand up the hem of her skirt along the seams of her Cuban heel stockings and flicked the garter straps against the back of her thighs.
Punishment for lying to him
.  At the last moment before exiting her house, she had doubled back into her bedroom and replaced her casual black bra and panties with his gift, surprising herself with how sexy it made her feel while simultaneously denying to herself how much she secretly hoped she would have the chance to reveal it to him.