Dirty Beautiful Rich Part One (2 page)

The security guard unhooked the red velvet rope and led them to a prime low table, surrounded by sleek black chairs. On the table sat two crystal buckets with bottles of Vintage Krug in them.

No way was this for them.

She tugged on Stella’s wrist. “This can’t be right.”

Stella nodded, noticing the booze that was easily five hundred dollars a bottle. “Let me check.”

One of the cocktail waitresses walked by in a tight but classic black dress. She smiled. “Is the table to your satisfaction?”

Stella smiled back. “Um. Did we win something?”

The cocktail waitress laughed then glanced towards the back of the VIP section. “You could say that.”

“This can’t be right,” Julie said again.

“Relax, Julie! Enjoy it,” called Kat, grabbing a crystal champagne flute, her sparkly nails shining in the club light.

“Your friend is right,” the waitress said. “Shall I open a bottle for you?”

“I don’t get it,” said Julie, still suspicious.  

The waitress kept smiling, but this time the smile was really warm. “Everything is paid for by an admirer.”

Kat leaned forward, her perfect red hair tumbling over her tan shoulders. “Admiring
who
?”

The waitress nodded at Julie.

Julie felt her cheeks go hot. This had to be some kind of joke.

“The Krug and anything you like it will be taken care of and the club has arranged a car to take you home in case you enjoy the champagne too much. If you have any questions, you can ask my manager but I assure you the gentleman who arranged this for you is above reproach. And he has excellent taste.”

“Is he going to say hello?” Julie asked suddenly. She didn’t want another guy tonight, even a guy who could flash cash.

The waitress shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think he just wanted to do something nice for you. He. . . He saw one of the other guests be rude to you.”

“Wait,” Julie gasped. “Did he get the guy escorted out?”

“Yes,” the waitress said without blinking.

“Holy crap!” exclaimed Kat.

Stella picked up a glass and thrust it at Julie. “Come on. This is your night anyway. Who knows when we’ll get this chance again?”

Julie nodded then held out her glass. “Okay.”

The waitress beamed at her then twisted the cork free perfectly, silently and placed the beautiful bottle back in its bucket of ice. “If you want something different...Vodka, gin, anything. Just ask.”

Julie eyed the two bottles that would pay for her rent and laughed. So maybe tonight wasn’t so bad after all. She grabbed one bottle by the neck and poured the bubbling liquid into Stella, Kat’s, then her own glass. They all raised their glasses.

“Screw Derrick!” cried Kat.

“Screw him!” Julie and Stella answered

The champagne burst over her tongue and her eyes shut, the taste was so incredible. In all her life, she’d only ever glimpsed bottles of Krug peering down at her from shelves in bars and clubs. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined she’d be drinking it in a VIP section of the hottest nightspot in the city.

Maybe, life without Derrick was going to be absolutely fabulous. She looked back towards the shadowing VIP section unable to see anyone who looked like they had given her this special treat. She wanted to give them a hug. It had started out so badly when that guy had come on to her, and now, she was getting all this! She raised her glass in the direction the waitress had looked and smiled. Whoever he was, he was real nice guy.

Maybe the only nice guy there was.

Chapter 3

Damian Fitzgerald was not a nice guy. Dragging his family back from social and financial ruin had ensured that. And in the last fifteen years, he’d lived by one maxim,
to the victor go the spoils
. He was a man who won. In fact, with every year that passed, winning had become more and more important to him. Vital, even.

Some men needed women, drugs, or sycophantic worship. While he understood all three of those things none of them were essential to his existence. Women were for pleasure, drugs were for people who couldn’t face the world, and idiotic people who bowed and scraped before him were purely for amusement. The only thing he needed was power. He thrived on it. He’d been born in a crumbling castle in Ireland, his father a broken man and his mother shut out from
society
.  

His black Aston Martin followed the steel gray Bentley through the city like a sleek predator. The car had already made two stops at similar cookie cutter apartment buildings on the outer edges of the city, dropping off the friends.

He’d paid attention because that’s what he did. Even people who didn’t interest him received his attention. Detail was essential in this life if one wanted to win. A man could never tell when something obscure, some bit of knowledge, would turn the tables, making one the victor.

As they drove through the four a.m. Aurora, Colorado streets he couldn’t help wondering at his own sudden impulsiveness. But she’d intrigued him in a way nothing did these days. The young woman had seemed completely unsure of herself as she’d stood in her badly cut dress, something she’d almost certainly bought at a low end chain store, something in Ireland that would have tackily graced a high street window. But he’d been unable to tear his gaze away from her luminous skin, heart shaped face, and wounded eyes. Jesus. For the first time in a long time, he’d wanted to go down and pound that gobshite into the ground himself. But such things were for sweaty football blokes in pubs. No, he used security. Not because he couldn’t beat the ever living shite out of man, but because such action was beneath him.

Booking the VIP table had been nothing. In fact, he’d planned on leaving the god-awful nightclub as soon as he’d done so. But something had compelled him to stay. He’d wanted to see her
enjoy
his present. It was a miracle he’d been in the place at all to spot her. But the company who was negotiating his purchase of eighty thousand acres of good Colorado Front Range had thought the place might amuse him. They’d been mistaken.

However, the poor choice in venue had led to this. Driving in the early hours, already determined to win. Win what, he wasn’t certain. But he knew that victory included the young, incredibly sexy woman who seemed to have no idea the kind of power she had over men.  Yes. Maybe that was the victory. He was going to have her and while having her, he was going to show her her own power.

He shifted gears as they slowed, pulling up to a horrifically shoddy apartment complex. He actually felt a shiver of disgust as he looked at the place. She lived here? Were there roaches? It wouldn’t surprise him. If he had anything to do it with it, and he would, she was not going to be living there long.

As instructed, the Bentley idled, but the driver didn’t get out to escort the young woman to her door. Instead, Damian put the Aston Martin into park, slid out of the low vehicle and strode up to the waiting town car.

He opened the door himself and slid in beside her.

***

J
ulie dropped her head back against the leather seat and let out a sigh of contentment. She couldn’t remember a better night. They’d drunk three bottles of champagne between them, sharing a few glasses with some girls they’d met dancing. Tomorrow she was going to feel like hell, but tonight? Tonight felt like heaven.

She couldn’t believe how smoothly the car ran. How beautiful it was inside. How everything since the moment they’d gone past that red velvet rope had gone perfectly. If she could have kissed the man who gave her this splendid night, she would have.

The door opened and she sat up a little, realizing they’d no doubt arrived home.
Home
. Ha. That little studio apartment with its peeling linoleum, fraying carpet, and ancient appliances wasn’t home. It was the place she lived.   

She’d lived there since her mom died two years ago and she’d had to sell the house she’d grown up in to pay the medical debt. Oh, well. She wasn’t about to let memories ruin the night. She unbuckled the belt, ready to get out and face the fact she wasn’t Cinderella. Or if she was, the time had come for her coach to turn pumpkin.

But before she could slide out, someone slid in.

No. Not someone.
Him
.

That was all she could think. She knew she’d never met
him
. Never seen
him
. But somehow, she felt as if she was recognizing a soul. She knew him in a way that she’d never known anyone. If she was Jane, he was Rochester. If she was Cathy, he was Heathcliffe and maybe, just maybe if the world was kind, he was the Darcy to her Elizabeth.

What was she thinking? Nonsense. That’s what.

It had to be the champagne.

But whatever it was, his golden eyes held hers. She couldn’t breath. She couldn’t think. All she knew was that he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life and that her soul was suddenly in the balance.

“Mephistopheles,” she blurted. That’s who he had to be. The devil’s right hand angel and tempter.

His golden eyes flared ever so slightly and then he smiled. A deliberate, excruciatingly slow burn smile.

Her insides felt as if they were being consumed with flames. Was this lust? Intense, fuck me lust? She’d read about it. Of course she had. But she’d never felt it. Not in her whole life. Mostly, she’d felt like something was wrong with her her whole adult life. But this perfect stranger made her want to pull up her skirt, crawl onto his lap and let him take her like she’d never been taken in her whole life.

He smelled delicious. Some exotic, expensive scent that was also just godlike man.

“You’re going to be mine, Julie.”

She blinked. “W-what?”

“Mine,” he said, his voice low, rough, foreign.

English, maybe?

She stared at him, captivated. “How do you know my name?”

There it was. That slight, sexy, knowing smile. “The club.”

“You,” she breathed. And then she wanted to kick herself. How stupid could she sound? Too much champagne. That was it.

“Yes. Me.”

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“No.”

“No?” she couldn’t help the disappointment in her voice.

“I don’t want you drunk when I kiss you.” He didn’t even touch her. Just sat, all powerful, erotic, totally in control. “I want you absolutely sober. And then. . . Then we’re going to fuck”

She swallowed, her whole body tingling. No one had
ever
spoken to her like that. She knew from all her feminist principles that she wasn’t supposed to like it, but from the way her body was burning and her clitoris was suddenly aching, she knew her feminist principles had taken a back seat to his power.

“I think you should get out of the car,” she whispered, trying to remember her new maxim. No more men. Not even this one.

“I own the car.”

“Oh.” Great. She felt deflated. The gorgeous man had no doubt just thought her a stupid American, strictly for fun. A thing. And then she’d had to go and act like a moron.

“Julie,” he said softly.

To her horror, her throat was closing, but ever since her mom had gotten sick nothing had ever gone right. Nice things always went wrong. “Yes?”

“Stop that.” His voice was firm, rough even.

She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “What?”

“You’re insulting yourself.”

Her mouth dropped open.

Oh so slowly, he leaned toward her then placed his strong fingers beneath her jaw and turned her face back towards his. He caressed her chin ever so slightly. “You are no longer allowed to insult yourself. Do you understand?”

She gaped at him but found herself nodding.

“Good, beautiful. Now, go home. The driver will see you safely inside.”

She nodded again, still transfixed by the feel of his hand against her face. She could barely breathe, his touch was so delicious. Still, she followed his order and placed her feet outside the car.

Miraculously, the driver was indeed waiting for her. He took her hand carefully and started leading her to the apartment building. She glanced back over her shoulder.

He was climbing into a silver Aston Martin, his six-foot plus frame at once graceful and powerful.

He didn’t look back at her as his sports car raced off into the night.

Shaking her head, she weaved into the hall with the quiet driver.

Belong to him?

She’d never see him again. Men like him didn’t want girls like her. Financially distressed, overweight, and ultimately having gone nowhere. If life had taught her one thing over and over again, there was no such thing as happily ever after. Still, it had been a great night. A smile pulled at her lips. She’d never forget it. And if for one moment she’d felt like the sexiest man in existence had wanted her? Hey, why not enjoy it? Maybe he’d fill her sleep. After all, sleep was the only place where dreams came true.

Chapter 4

Julie shoved on her sunglasses, headed out of the apartment into the brutal sunshine and groaned. Oh my god. Why had she drunk so much? Thank goodness she didn’t have a shift today at the coffee shop. The buzz of an espresso machine would have killed her. As it was, her mouth was dry, so she took a swig of heavily sugared coffee from her travel mug. She was going to have to take the bus into downtown to pick up her car.

Still, it had been worth it.

A smile played at her lips. She’d had excellent dreams. She still almost didn’t believe the last part of the night had happened. That the golden eyed man had not been entirely part of her dreams. But she knew he was real. She should’ve texted Kat and Stella to tell them all about it, but for some reason, she wanted to keep it private. There was something wonderful about this secret. Somehow, she knew, talking about it would make it less special.

She inched her shoulder bag (the strap was fraying) higher onto her shoulder and started for the bus stop, but as she walked, she realized that a gray Bentley was now rolling beside her. She waited for it to pass, but when she slowed, it slowed.

And then it hit her in her hung over muddled state. It was the Bentley from last night.