Living in Secret: Living In..., Book 3 (4 page)

She’d tended to stick with men with whom she had little chemistry, sex perfunctory and at least not actively unpleasant, keeping herself in control at all times.

Which had made Connor so damn perfect. Until she’d seen him in the courtroom…

“You’re looking prudish again,” Eleanor observed. “You should have been a Puritan, Vic. It would have suited you.”

She looked away, back to the mirror where that woman stood, a siren in a slinky red dress. Definitely not a Puritan. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said. “What if he says no?”

Eleanor shrugged. “Then he says no and you have to think of something else. But…honestly. I don’t think he’s going to say no.”

That’s not what you’re worried about. You’re worried about him saying yes.

Another hot jolt went through her and in the mirror she saw a dusky blush rise to her cheeks. Because what if he did say yes? What if he did want her after all? And not just in that somewhat mechanical, detached way he had when they were in bed. But in a way that was hotter, more intense. Demanding. The way he was when he was in the courtroom, when he was trying to seduce the jury…

“I’m not sure it would be worth it, though,” she said, half to herself, conscious that her voice wasn’t exactly level. “The sex has never been great.”

“Well, isn’t that up to you?” Her friend sounded very matter of fact. “You don’t have to accept things the way they were. You can change them.” This time her smile was downright wicked. “And if not, then you can just get drunk and screw someone else. Which also works.”

“You know, you’re sounding more and more like Kahu every day.”

“Since he’s buggering off across the ditch to Sydney, someone’s got to.” Eleanor raised her eyebrows. “Are you going to buy the dress or not?”

Victoria swung round. “I’m going to buy the dress.”

She might not wear it when the time came, but at least she’d have options.

When it came to getting what she wanted from Connor, she had a feeling she’d need every single option she could find.

Chapter Three

Victoria sat in her car and watched her ex-husband get out of the taxi. He was in a black suit tonight and a shirt the same electric blue as his eyes. He had on a black tie that was, as usual, perfectly centered and knotted. He always dressed well, did Connor.

As she watched, he bent to the driver’s window to the give the driver some money, before straightening to his full height. Tall. So very tall. Taller than she was. Long and lean, built like a gymnast. He kept himself in shape by running and lifting weights in the gym he’d had installed in their home.

Did he still do that? He must because it looked like there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him.

A hot feeling shifted inside her.

As he went up the steps and disappeared inside the club, she let out a shaky breath and looked away, smoothing her hands over the silky fabric covering her thighs. The dress felt suddenly far too tight, her skin far too sensitive.

Perhaps she should have worn a different dress instead. Then again, it was too late now. She’d spent at least thirty minutes standing in front of her closet door, debating the merits of whether to wear the red dress or not. Finally, she’d decided to put it on, but not for the reasons Eleanor had suggested.

Her friend thought Connor wouldn’t be able to resist her wearing a dress like that.

But Victoria knew her husband better than that and the sad fact was he’d probably be
more
likely to let her go if she wore that dress.

He preferred restraint. Classy sophistication. Definitely not the kind of blatant sexuality this dress showcased.

The reality was if he saw her in this, he’d probably be shocked. Appalled even.

Which was perfect. Shocked and appalled was far more likely to sign the papers than restrained sophistication.

She looked down at the red silk pulling tight around her thighs and the hip-high split revealing the black lace of her panties. Really, it was the kind of dress you had to not wear anything underneath if you didn’t want to spoil the line of it.

God, what would he think if he knew she was wearing no underwear? He’d probably be even more shocked and appalled.

Victoria swallowed. Then, not letting herself think too much about the decision, she reached up and wiggled her panties down her legs. It was moderately awkward—her Audi was spacious but didn’t allow much room for panty removal—yet seconds later, she had her panties in the glove box and nothing but bare skin between herself and the silk of her dress.

Her insides felt shaky, her heartbeat thumping in her head.

She pulled open the door and got out, smoothing down her dress again and locking the car. The early summer breeze stirred against her legs, reminding her of what she didn’t have on underneath, and she had to pause, leaning against the cool metal of the car.

What the hell are you doing? Everyone’s going to see you in that dress and they’re going to know you have nothing on underneath it.

But that was good, wasn’t it? More incentive for Connor to sign those papers and get rid of her. And as for other people and what they might think, well, she’d be gone in a few weeks anyway. She’d start again in a new city where no one knew her.

A clean slate.

Victoria eased herself away from the car and turned.

The Auckland Club, the building wreathed in ivy, its famous blue door shut, looked quiet and still. A staid reminder of times past. But it wasn’t either of those things. She could hear music thumping, the sound of laughter. A party in full swing. She’d never been to the more outrageous parties Kahu threw from time to time, finding the blatant sexuality of them uncomfortable. Connor hadn’t liked them much either and for the same reason.

And yet, that look in his eyes…

No, it wasn’t what she thought it was. She’d been imagining things. Connor had never wanted her, not in that way, and he never would. The only thing he had a passion for was the law. Justice. And that was it.

She braced herself then walked forward up the steps to knock on the door. It swung open almost immediately to reveal Mike, the Auckland Club’s bouncer. His eyes widened as he looked at her and much to her horror, she felt herself blush.

“Wow,” Mike said. “Hot dress, Victoria.”

She managed a cool smile as he ushered her in. “Thanks. Is Eleanor here yet?”

“Yeah. She’s in the Ivy Room.” He paused. “Though I’m not sure you should go in there.”

“Why not?”

He grinned. “You’ll probably get mobbed.”

Again, she could feel herself blushing. Ridiculous. “I’d better be careful then,” she replied, thankful some other people arriving behind her took his attention away.

Perhaps the dress idea was stupid. Perhaps she should never have worn it.

The vaulted foyer of the club, with its massive chandelier, was full of people so she threaded her way through the crowds to a small hallway that led down the back to the bathrooms and Kahu’s private study and offices.

There was a small alcove near the bathrooms, with a loveseat positioned to provide a quiet space for those who needed a break, and mercifully there was no one already sitting there. So she sat down, taking a few deep breaths and trying to get a handle on the nervousness and doubt roiling inside her.

If this was going to work, she had to push herself. Be determined about it, no half measures. And that should be easy given she’d been determinedly pushing herself for years now. Yes, it was true, pushing herself to be successful at her career was a different prospect to pushing herself to shock her ex-husband. Using her sexuality in this way was new to her. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was getting those papers signed. So she could be free.

“Are you okay?” The voice was deep and soft, and very masculine, penetrating the noise of the party easily.

Victoria looked up.

A man stood in front of her. He was impeccably dressed in a black suit and white shirt, no tie. The shirt was open at the neck, revealing a patch of dark olive skin, and his black hair was long enough curl over the collar. He wasn’t typically handsome, but there was something about his rugged features that made him compelling nonetheless. Perhaps it was his eyes, green and gold, like a cat’s.

He smiled, his teeth very white in against his tanned skin. “You’re Victoria Blake, aren’t you?”

She frowned. “Do I know you?”

“No, we’ve never been introduced.” He held out a hand. “Allow me to do the honors. I’m Raphael Scott, a friend of Kahu’s.”

Victoria took his hand, slightly startled by the sudden warmth flooding through her as his fingers closed around hers. She tried to ignore it, giving him the same cool smile as she’d given Mike. “Nice to meet you.”

His smile deepened. He held on to her hand only slightly longer than was perhaps polite before releasing her. “And you. Kahu’s told me a lot about you and your other friends.”

Her fingers tingled. She put them in her lap, clasping her hands together. “Oh? He’s never spoken about you before.”

“No, possibly not. I’ve been in the States for the past few years, only came back home last week.” He looked at the space next to her and raised a brow. “Mind if I sit down?”

Perhaps the strange tingling in her fingers should have made her wary, but for some reason it didn’t. There was something completely non-threatening about him, something to do with the warmth in his eyes and in his smile that put her at ease. “Sure,” she said. “Be my guest.”

Raphael sat down beside her and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his long blunt fingers interlaced. “You should probably know I’m going to buy the club. I made Kahu an offer before I came back here and if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll take it.”

Ah, she’d heard about the offer. Eleanor had told her. “Oh, well, that’s great. I actually don’t come here a lot, but I’m glad it’s going to a friend of his.”

“Can I ask why you don’t come here a lot?” His smile was self-deprecating. “I don’t mean to pry, but from a business perspective…”

“Of course. I’m just not much of a nightclub person.”

“And yet you’re here tonight.”

“Well, yes. Kahu’s a friend and this is his last party.”

“Forgive me,” he said, “but for a person who isn’t into nightclubs, you’re certainly dressed like one.”

Again she felt the embarrassment rise, the sting of heat in her cheeks. She looked down at her hands. “Ah, yes, that…”

She could feel him looking at her, but he didn’t say anything. A small silence fell and for some reason, it wasn’t at all uncomfortable.

Then he said, “Come on, let’s go get a drink. You look like you could use one.”

Victoria lifted her gaze from her hands and met his green-gold eyes. Heat lurked there, definite heat. A genuine appreciation that intensified her blush.

And an idea took hold. What would Connor think of her walking into the Ivy Room in a poured-on dress and no panties, on the arm of this man? What would he think if she sat down and had a drink with Raphael? What if she flirted openly with him? Would that shock Connor? Appall him? Enough so he’d sign those papers without any kind of argument at all?

It’s not just about the papers. You want a reaction…

She shut the thought down. The reaction she wanted was his disapproval. That’s all.

So she looked into Raphael’s eyes and smiled back. “Sure. That would be great.”

“Holy fuck,” Kahu said.

Connor turned his head, puzzled by the surprise in his friend’s voice.

They were sitting in a corner of the Ivy Room, the quiet, classy restaurant it was during the day now turned into a loud, crowded, chaotic club. All the tables and chairs had been cleared away, replaced by long couches and cushions and low tables. Candles in colored glass tea-light holders flickered, glinting off Middle Eastern lanterns hung from the ceiling. Down one end of the room, a slightly raised platform had been constructed as a dance floor. It was crowded now as people danced to some fast, frenetic bass music.

There was an atmosphere of decadence in the room, of opulence and excess. Sensuality and sin. Kahu’s favorite combination in other words.

It wasn’t Connor’s scene in the slightest, but he was bearing it for his friend’s sake and because, eventually, Victoria would arrive.

“What?” Connor asked, looking in the direction of Kahu’s surprised stare.

The door of the Ivy Room had opened to admit some newcomers, Kahu’s friend Raphael, who’d been introduced to Connor when he’d first arrived, and beside Raphael a tall, slim woman in the tightest, sexiest red dress Connor had ever seen.

“It’s Victoria,” Kahu said, his voice barely audible above the music. “At least…I think it’s Victoria.”

No, it wasn’t. She’d be in her usual evening outfit—an elegant black dress, a bit of gold jewelry maybe, black pumps and her hair in a smooth chignon. Classy, sophisticated and understated.

She definitely wouldn’t be in a dark red off-the-shoulder number that looked like it had been poured on. Nor would she have worn her hair like that, a riot of thick, glossy black curls cascading down her back. The shoes, high red silk platform sandals, with straps around the ankles, were far too obvious for Victoria as well. In fact, the whole outfit was far too obvious for Victoria. Which meant it wasn’t her, but some poor woman out looking for an easy hookup.

Connor opened his mouth to tell Kahu it definitely wasn’t Victoria when Raphael leaned in to talk to her. She turned her head toward him to listen, and Connor felt everything slow down and stop. Frozen.

Because it
was
Victoria. There was no missing that determined jawline and delicate chin. The long, straight line of her nose and finely drawn eyebrows. The full, lush shape of her mouth, carefully colored with lipstick as deep a red as her dress.

Shock coursed through him.

Jesus. What the hell was she wearing? What the
hell
was she doing coming here looking like that?

She and Raphael turned toward the bar, moving over to it. There were a couple of free barstools and he pulled out one for her. She got onto it with her usual elegance, and as she did so, the fabric of her dress parted in a side-split that went all the way to her hip.

Connor felt like he’d been punched in the face. Because there was nothing marring the smooth olive skin of her thigh and hip. No telltale strip of lace. Which meant she wasn’t wearing panties.

“Wow, I’ve never seen her in anything like that before,” Kahu observed. “She looks fantastic.”

No, she didn’t. She looked like a damn prostitute.

Look away…

But he couldn’t. She was leaning over to talk to Raphael now, the mass of her thick, curly black hair falling over her shoulder as she put a hand on the guy’s knee to balance herself. And he wanted to go over there and rip her hand away. Ask her what the hell she was thinking? Coming in here, wearing
that.

Anger morphed into fury. Because he could feel his hunger for her shaking the bars of the cage he’d put it in, desperate for release. It didn’t want to ask her questions. It wanted her down on the floor beneath him, that dress ripped and her legs wrapped around his waist, those heels digging into his back.

Christ.

Raphael had put a hand over hers and, as Connor watched, he must have said something amusing because Victoria laughed. And even through the noise in the room, the conversation and music, he heard it. A full, rich, uninhibited sound.

The fury twisted inside him. He’d never heard her laugh like that before. She’d never laughed like that for him.

Aren’t you not supposed to care?

“Are you okay, mate?”

It took him a second to realize Kahu was speaking to him. That he’d been staring at Victoria and Raphael without a word for at least a couple of minutes.

He tore his gaze away from the couple at the bar. “Of course I’m okay,” he snapped. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Victoria was obviously trying to prove some point in that getup but whatever it was, he didn’t care. He really didn’t give a shit.

Kahu said nothing for a moment, his gaze uncomfortably perceptive. “Uh huh. Hey, I’ve got a new bottle of vintage Laphroaig you might want to try. Come and have a dram with me?”