Power Play (The Billionaire's Club: New Orleans) (12 page)

“Macy.” He dragged her down, crushing her against his chest as he took her mouth in a savage kiss. She snaked her hands into his hair, kissing him back with equal intensity, putting all her love and hope and fears into the clash of lips and teeth and tongue.

“Ride me, Macy,” he demanded, lifting his hips for emphasis. “Guide me home and make me yours. Drown me in sunset.”

She did, sinking down on him in slow increments. He cupped her breasts, teasing her rosy nipples to full. Resting her hands on his chest, she began to ride him, rocking back and forth.

“You’re mine, and I’m yours,” he said then, dropping his hands to her waist to aid her movements.

“Mine. Yours,” she agreed, increasing her pace, her hair swinging around them.

He took over as he usually did, thrusting his hips up, impaling her repeatedly. “You’re moving in with me or I’m moving in with you, but every night we’ll be together.”

“Yes.” Passion slicked her core, her need for him growing, filling her entire being.

“And every morning I’ll wake up to your hair shining in the sunlight and know that I’m the richest man in the world.”

“Yes!” She threw her head back and screamed as orgasm broke over her, tightening her body, clamping her inner muscles down on him. He thrust up once, twice, three times more, then came with a hoarse shout, his fingers digging into her hip bones and he flooded her womb.

Wrung out, she collapsed against him, conscious of the sweat pooling between them. “We’re going to need another shower,” she murmured, her lips brushing his chest.

“Later,” he grunted, folding her into his arms and keeping her in place as he continued to pulse so sweetly inside her. “Right now, I need this.”

“Yes.” Her eyes slid closed as she basked in the sense of rightness, of connection, of being where she was meant to be, when she was meant to be.

Raphael stood in the center of the ballroom with Sebastian and Gabriel as they celebrated the official relocation of DJD Holdings, Inc. Most of the state’s and all of the city’s wheelers, dealers, and officials had shown up to eat their hors d’oeuvres, drink their booze, and press them for information on their business plans. The cream of the society crop had also descended en masse, with their single daughters in tow.

“You’re not going to get a moment’s peace, you know,” Raphael remarked to Gabriel as they paused for yet another photo opportunity. “The last of the Lost Boys to be claimed.”

“Claim, my ass. I don’t do virgins or marriage-minded women. If the society ladies callously throw their daughters at me, the blame’s on them,” the dark-haired man said, his predatory gaze roving over the circle of women on their periphery. “Besides, you’re not married yet. Even that doesn’t seem to be much of a deterrent, considering the amount of women eyeing Sebastian here like he’s a prime cut of beef.”

“If they want to make the mistake of thinking Renata’s harmless, then they’re foolish twice over,” Sebastian said with a satisfied grin. “She’ll set them straight.”

Just then a symphony patron stole Sebastian away and inserted him into a group of about five women ranging from ingénue to elderly. “I think Renata’s enjoying watching Sebastian squirm before she goes to rescue him.”

“It’s kinda like watching an elephant dance around a bunch of mice.” Gabriel’s expression hardened and a pair of women on direct approach made an immediate about-face.

“Impressive. You’re gonna have to teach me that.” Raphael knew Gabriel had always
been the bad boy, the rebel, the troublemaker, even as a teen. His reputation kept all but the most adventurous away, and his scowl usually took care of the rest.

“Impossible. No one’s gonna believe that face hides a devil.”

“True. Guess I’ll have to see if my girl will run interference for me.” He nodded toward Macy, chatting excitedly with Renata at the far end of the ballroom. Dressed in a bright teal dress with a fitted top and flowing skirt, she outshone every other woman in the room.

Gabriel broke into his thoughts. “So, you and Macy Lovelace, huh?”

“Yeah.” Raphael glanced over at her again. She attracted far too much male attention for his peace of mind, but Parker and his team ran skillful, unobtrusive interference, keeping the overzealous at bay.

“Aren’t you full of surprises,” his business partner said, a knowing smile on his face. “Though I gotta say, she doesn’t seem like your type. But now that I think about it, usually anything in a skirt is your type.”

“Very funny, fuck face.” He swallowed a mouthful of whiskey. “Macy’s my only type. I’ve known her since we were twelve. This has been a long time coming.”

“It’s that serious already?”

“Yeah. We’ve spent enough time apart.”

He could barely stand to spend even a workday without her, and the media focus on her after news of their relationship became public knowledge two weeks ago made him edgy. He was grateful they’d gone to her father in Baton Rouge and told him about their relationship before the story broke. Mr. Lovelace’s opinion meant the world to him, and the fact that he’d given his blessing was an honor Raphael vowed he’d never betray.

Unfortunately, the news had also brought out a few scorned women, including his most
recent ex, Courtney McDaniel, a swimsuit model based in Miami. The woman had constantly called his offices, filled his voice mail with increasingly vitriolic messages, and generally made herself an inconvenience. He didn’t think the she would come to New Orleans, but he’d alerted his security team just in case. He had too many friends and acquaintances in the sports world who’d shared horror stories about stalkers and gold diggers to not be cautious. When it came to Macy, safe was infinitely better than sorry.

“Looks like Renata finally rescued our boy from his cougar fan club,” Gabriel said, drawing Raphael’s attention to Sebastian, who had his wife securely tucked in by his side.

“Good for him.” He looked for Macy, but couldn’t find that familiar flash of flaming hair in the sea of people. He looked for Parker, who should have stood head and shoulders above the crowd, but didn’t see him, either.

“Go find your woman,” Gabriel said. “She’s probably in the ladies’ room. I’ve got some hunting of my own to do.”

He melted into the throng, and Raphael pulled out his phone to send a text to Parker.
Where is she?

Ladies’ room. West corner, near the stairs.

Raphael made a beeline for the west corner of the ballroom, eager to get to Macy. The party was officially a success but now he was ready to get Macy home, strip her bare, and make her his forever.

He didn’t count on the statuesque blonde in a black dress throwing herself into his arms, planting a kiss on him as Macy exited the ladies’ room.

* * *

Macy wondered how she’d react if she was ever confronted with one of Raphael’s supermodel exes. She’d expected anger. What she felt was cold amusement instead.

He pushed the blonde away. “Macy, let me explain—”

“You’re not the one who needs to explain.” She turned her focus to the blonde standing too close to Raphael, a triumphant smile on her face. “I’m assuming you’re one of Raphael’s former … friends.”

“Not former.” The blonde tossed her hair back. “I’m his current girlfriend.”

“You’re mistaken,” Macy said calmly. “Everyone knows that Raphael Jerroult doesn’t do girlfriends.”

“You’re the one who’s mistaken. Raphael loves me.” Courtney turned to him. “Tell her she’s wrong. Tell her you love me!”

“No.” The look Raphael gave her could have frozen flames. “I don’t love you, Courtney. You know that. You don’t love me, either.”

Courtney’s face twisted with rage. “You love her? Her?”

“Yes.” A smile lit Raphael’s face, a smile that warmed every corner of Macy’s heart. She knew he loved her, knew it with every caress, every thoughtful gesture and token he gave her.

“What’s so special about her?” Courtney demanded.

“She sees me,” Raphael said softly. “She always has. It’s why I belong to her.”

“You bitch!” Courtney screeched, reaching into her purse as she advanced on Macy. “I won’t let you have him!”

Macy didn’t stop to think. She spun on her left foot, delivering a roundhouse kick with her right that sent the blond woman flying—right into Parker’s arms. The security team hustled
her away before she could tell if the other woman was unconscious or not.

“God, I didn’t mean to kick her so hard. Who knew those kickboxing classes I took would come in handy? Is she all right? Where is he taking her?”

“I don’t give a damn.” Raphael held her at arm’s length, his expression hard with fear and anger. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I—”

He crushed her against his chest, squeezing the air from her lungs. “She could have killed you!”

“But she didn’t.”

“She had a gun in her purse, Macy. I should have stopped her. I should have got in the way.” He shuddered. “I finally understand what my father went through. I love you too much to live without you. I won’t.”

“Stop.” She pushed free of him enough to take his left hand, curling her fingers around the cord on his wrist. “Do you really expect me to stand by and watch you get hurt for me?”

“Yes!” he roared. “Damn you, yes!”

“So it would be all right for me to live without you, but not all right for you to live without me? You think I could do that? You think I would want to, knowing you sacrificed yourself for me?”

His eyes slid closed on a groan. “Macy.”

“Let’s promise each other, right here and right now, that we’re going to live. Live for each other. Promise me.”

For a long moment he remained silent, his body tight with tension. “All right.”

“Let’s deal with this and then go home, okay?”

“Hell, yes. Then you can tell me when you perfected that roundhouse.”

Hours later, they lay beside each other in a tangle of sheets and limbs. Reaching over, she untied the scarlet cord around his wrist, then brushed her lips over his pulse point. “I can think of a better ornament for this hand.”

He blew out a breath, then relaxed, smiling at her. “Something round and platinum?”

“That sounds about right.”

“If I have to wear something like that, then it stands to reason that you need something, too, something that shows the world that you’re mine.” He grinned, then reached into his nightstand drawer, and extracted a small box. “Do you think this will do for now?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked down at the flawless multifaceted diamond set in a platinum diamond-studded antique band. Something about it was familiar.

He knelt in front of her, holding the ring between them. “Macy Lovelace, life began the day you put me in a headlock and made me take a picture with your family. I’ve been your friend and I’ve been your lover. Now I want to be your husband. Will you marry me?”

“Do I still get to be your friend and your lover?”

“Always.”

“Then yes, I’ll absolutely marry you.”

“Good.” He slipped the ring on her finger, then gave her a kiss that left no doubt as to his need for her.

She came up for air, dazed, flushed, staring down at her new engagement ring. “You know I’d swear I saw this ring somewhere before.”

He pulled her close, his features open, relaxed and full of love. “When we visited your father, I asked his permission to marry you. He gave me his blessing, and your mother’s ring.”

“Oh.” Tears fractured her vision as she realized what Raphael had done for her, had been doing all along—giving her proof of his love for her. “Raffie, what you do for me, big things and small, makes me a very lucky woman.”

“Then it’s a good thing you agreed to marry the luckiest man alive.”

Read all three parts of the
Billionaire’s Club: New Orleans
sensational e-series!

From St. Martin’s Press

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Mallery Malone is a multi-published author of contemporary and historical romance of all heat levels. An avid reader, she loves to create worlds and characters that strike a deep emotional connection.

Mallery lives on the outskirts of Atlanta with her guitar hero husband, several cannibal fish, and two standard poodles who think they’re lapdogs. When not working the day job, she spends her time hanging out with friends, people watching, and working on her next writing project.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

“Power Play” copyright © 2014 by Mallery Malone.

All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

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eISBN 978-1-4668-5483-3

First eBook Edition: August 2014

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