Nautier and Wilder (5 page)

“Dawg, give her this time, she needs it,” Mercedes said softly. “More than you know,
she needs it.”

She needed it.

But what happened if it was the chance an enemy needed to strike out at her?

What was he supposed to do then?

FOUR

P
iper loved New York City.

The pace, the energy, the sense of excitement that seemed to permeate every corner
of the city sank into her senses. Her heart beat faster. Blood rushed quick and furious
through her veins, and the ordered chaos, the shopping throngs and ever-present sea
of faces channeled a chaotic pace inside her own body and filled her with elation.

The first time Dawg and his wife, Christa, had brought her to the city had been to
introduce her to the many and varied bolts of fabrics and exquisite costume jewelry
and fake gems available in the small, out of the way shops and fabric stores there.
Rhinestones, glittering crystals, clear sapphire – and emerald-colored stones—the
choices seemed almost unlimited.

Now, five years later, she still found the little shops and stores impossible to leave
once she began searching for the items she needed for each design—those already sketched
and those that built in her imagination as she found hidden bolts of unique or discontinued
fabrics, bows, ribbons, and glittering stones.

It was the first place she’d headed the minute she had rented her car that morning
after arriving at the hotel.

The black four-door sedan was actually much smaller than she preferred for a four-door,
but the latest trend in economy and fuel efficiency had also inspired a new generation
of car designs that she simply wasn’t as fond of.

Driving in New York City wasn’t always safe, but it was rarely dull. Piper found her
senses tuning in to the traffic, the bystanders, the lights and sounds of the streets
as she drove outside the city toward the mountains that Eldon Vessante’s assistant
had directed her to. The interview would take place at Vessante’s estate, rather than
the hotel, and though she hadn’t anticipated the drive, she found it relaxed her,
at least. Her nerves were less than settled at the thought of the upcoming meeting.

As she drove out of the city and entered the less congested interstate, she could
feel her excitement building.

The change in time and location of the meeting was unexpected, especially considering
the fact that his assistant had seemed less pleasant than she had when Piper had spoken
to her the first time.

Following the onboard navigation, she found herself turning from the highway and moving
onto a two-lane road that climbed slowly into the surrounding mountains. Another turn
and she passed the sign for Vessante Way, the designer’s estate the assistant, S.
Chaniss, had told her they were meeting at.

Piper was feeling more confused than excited as she pulled into the curving driveway
in front of the three-story estate and gazed up at the stone steps leading to the
massive double front doors.

There were no attendants present. No one was rushing to park her car, and only a small,
bright red little sports car ahead of her was present.

Stepping from the rental car, she pulled free the wide portfolio she’d brought with
her and gazed around the heavily forested area for long seconds before moving slowly
to the steps.

As she reached the top, the doors swung slowly inward to reveal a towering butler.

Standing at six and a half feet at the very least, his brown gaze icy, his expression
implacable, he gave every indication of being ex-military, and as hard as granite.

“Ms. Mackay.” He nodded down at her with a slight inclination of his head. “Mr. Vessante
is awaiting you in the drawing room.”

The drawing room? Those actually still existed?

“If you’ll follow me.” It may have been worded as a request, but the tone was a straight-up
order.

Her brother and cousins had ensured that she recognized the difference.

Before he turned away, his gaze raked over her with a glint of sudden curiosity, or
familiarity. She’d met a lot of men over the years whom her male kin knew, and she
was certain she had never met this man, yet that look gave her the uneasy feeling
that he knew her.

Turning, he indicated she should follow him.

Dressed in black, perfectly creased slacks and a pristine white shirt that didn’t
have a single wrinkle, he led her through the wide, steel-colored marble foyer that
seemed to extend a mile or more. Reaching the end of the room-size entryway, he turned
sharply to the right and a set of doors at the end of the short hall.

A sharp rap of his knuckles was answered in seconds. The butler gripped the doorknobs,
pushed the doors open, then stood back for her to enter.

The heavy Gothic design of the room was a shock. Piper stepped from the more contemporary
foyer and tried to control her amazement as she stared around the room. Dark, heavy
woods, leather furniture with carved clawed feet, and thick, dark draperies over the
windows that blocked the early summer sunlight and sent a rush of trepidation rushing
through her.

She jumped, startled at the heavy snap of the doors closing behind her before swinging
forward again. From the corner of the room, a light chuckle drew her startled gaze
and she watched as Vessante rose and moved slowly into the center of the room. He
approached her slowly, his head tilted to the side, icy blue eyes regarding her mockingly.

“You seem nervous.” His tone was less than sincere as he attempted to put on a friendly
expression.

What was going on here?

“Where are the other designers?” Piper blurted, then winced. Not exactly the most
graceful greeting, but this private meeting wasn’t what she’d been expecting at all.
She had to force herself to stay in place as he moved within inches of her, his gaze
dropping to her breasts as his right hand reached out.

Piper accepted the handshake, the sensation of his damp palms giving her a slightly
queasy feeling.

Something wasn’t right here. As a matter of fact, something felt very wrong.

“The others couldn’t make it.” Pitched low, his tone still grated against her senses.

He wasn’t much taller than she was. At five-seven, Eldon Vessante was so skinny he
was bony. There was an effeminate air about him that the overly long white-blond hair
did nothing to dispel.

His face had a skeletal appearance, with high, sharp cheekbones and a long blade of
a nose. The photographs she had seen of him had definitely given him more of a substantial
air.

God, he reminded her of a rat.

Where had his reputation as a playboy come from?

“I see you brought your portfolio.” He glanced to the large, square design folder
she carried.

“Yes, I did.” Gripping the folder with both hands now, she wondered at the sick feeling
of panic growing inside her. “I assumed your assistant and the other designers with
your company would be here.”

She wished they were.

She hated the feeling of being trapped, alone with him.

“We don’t need them, my dear,” he drawled, the slight, feminine pout of his lips more
apparent as he smiled slightly.

He might not need them, but she did.

“Come, shall we sit and discuss our new venture?” With a wave of his hand he indicated
the sitting area on the other side of the room. “I wasn’t really considering another
designer this year.” He turned as though her acquiescence were a foregone conclusion.
“One must be certain to choose carefully. To ensure the market doesn’t become overly
glutted, you understand.”

Piper followed, but she did so warily, listening to the precise, self-important tone
of his voice rather than the words themselves.

“You’re not contributing to the conversation, my dear. That’s quite rude of you.”

Eldon paused in the middle of the sitting area, one hip jutting forward as he lifted
his left hand, palm upward, as though giving her the floor.

“I was listening,” she excused her nonparticipation, still watching him carefully
as she moved into the sitting area.

“Have a seat, please.” He gestured to the sofa with an outstretched hand. Piper perched
on the edge nervously as he remained standing.

“Would you like coffee? Or perhaps tea?” he asked, still standing with one hip jutting
slightly forward, the position, as well as her own, ensuring her a perfect view of
his thighs, should she want to look.

She didn’t.

“No, thank you.” Clearing her throat and glancing around the room she wished she could
push back the panic attack still threatening to shorten her breathing.

She hadn’t had one for years, not since arriving in Kentucky, actually. Now her insides
were shuddering, her throat tightening, the unreasoned fear rising inside her like
a fast-moving sickness.

“Why not?” The hand he had been extending went to his hip in a classically feminine
gesture of irritation that did little to ease her apprehension.

Blinking back at him, she fought to come up with an answer other than the fact that
the thought of anything in her stomach made her want to throw up as the panic built
inside her.

“Tea,” Eldon stated, finally shifting his stance and brushing the thin strands of
white-blond hair back from his rodentlike face. “You look like the tea sort.” Shifting
his attention from her to the door, he yelled, “Broecun!”

The door opened.

His expression as impassive as moments before, the bodyguard, butler, whatever the
hell he was, stepped just inside the room.

“Mr. Vessante?”

“Have Leda bring in a pot of tea, please.”

Cold, cold brown eyes flickered over her for the briefest moment before he backed
out of the doorway, closing the doors behind him.

Piper tightened her grip on her portfolio.

Eldon moved closer, taking a seat on the sofa with her. It placed him far too close
to her.

“Shall we talk terms then?” he asked, the ice blue of his gaze suddenly hardening.

“Of course.” She nodded.

She’d just as soon get this done and have it over with. Lifting the portfolio closer,
she was suddenly stopped by the touch of Eldon’s hand on her wrist.

Her stomach tightened as dread began to wash over her.

“I don’t need to see the designs. They’ll be accepted if you play the game properly.”

Ahh.

Her stomach pitched alarmingly.

“Excuse me?”

His smile was oily and far too sinister.

“I think you heard me perfectly, actually,” he said softly. “We’ll enjoy a nice cup
of tea; then we’ll retire to my suite. Be a nice little fuck until I grow tired of
you and we’ll see about that show you want so badly.”

This wasn’t happening.

This couldn’t be happening.

“Are you insane?” Had she really said that aloud?

Eldon sat back slowly, his expression tightening further, but thankfully his hand
lifted from her wrist.

“You don’t want to piss me off, Ms. Mackay,” he warned her, his tone low, echoing
with anger.

“I don’t?” She really didn’t, but the churning in her stomach assured her she was
going to end up doing just that.

“Do you want that runway show, darling?” He stared back at her with such a chilling
lack of emotion that a shudder raced down her spine.

Did she want that runway show?

She was shaking her head before she realized it and rising slowly to her feet.

“You
are
insane,” she decided, much calmer than she should have been while facing a madman.
“Business isn’t done like that anymore.”

A mocking laugh parted his lips as he rose slowly to his feet.

“Don’t be a fool, Piper,” he warned her, his hip jutting once again, as if he hoped
she’d glance at his sock-stuffed crotch.

She’d gone to high school; she knew what it looked like.

“Looks like I’m going to be a fool.” Clutching the portfolio tighter in her hands,
she backed away from him.

She’d not just gone to high school; she’d been raised in East Texas, and she damned
well knew better than to turn her back on a rattler.

Unfortunately, he was advancing on her.

“The opportunity of a lifetime?” he asked silkily. “You’re letting it ride right on
by you.” He gave a little waving motion with his hand. “Are you sure you want to do
that?”

Was she sure?

Gripping the doorknob, she turned it and pulled the door open quickly.

“Am I sure I want to tell you to shove your offer up that sock-stuffed ass of yours?”
she asked archly as she escaped into the foyer.

He paused, but only for a second.

Piper saw the blow coming and only barely managed to evade it as his fist came flying
out.

“Bitch!” he snarled.

“Bitch? Because I know the difference between a sock and a dick?” She sneered back
at him, quickening her pace as she walked backward.

“You’ll never get out of that backwoods town where you’re hawking that shit you sew
together,” he snarled, his face flushing a brilliant red as his eyes bulged to the
point that they threatened to pop out of their sockets.

“And you’ll never be anything but a fake dick,” she threw back at him as Broecun entered
the foyer from another room, leaned against the doorframe, and folded his arms over
his chest lazily as he watched.

Asshole—he could have at least appeared surprised rather than plain amused.

“Bitch!”

She watched Eldon’s muscles bunch, knew he was going to move, and she knew she would
never be able to evade the punch.

Jed was going to be pissed.

Dawg would go ballistic.

They would both travel to New York and start taking off heads if she came home with
just the faintest bruise that came from a male hand.

She tried to evade it.

She jumped, tried to run, but she was too damned scared to take her eyes off him.

Just before his fist launched, it stopped.

She didn’t know who was more surprised, her or Eldon, when he found his fist suddenly
captured in the hard, huge hand of Broecun.

“Get out of here, girl.” Hard, emotionless, the order was voiced without heat or any
sense of warning.

Still, Piper turned and ran for the front door.

She couldn’t believe this. She couldn’t believe the chance she had dreamed of had
come to this.