The Claim (11 page)

“Are you calling me a liar?” she spluttered. He needed to move away—she was hot all over, and the lift was normally cool as a freezer. She tried to push him to the other side of the lift, but the smug bastard had height, weight and sheer stubbornness on his side. “I am not lying, just stop it. You’re not helping with this display of Neanderthal.”

“Tell me what will,” he asked, threading his fingers through her own and curling her arms behind her back. “I thought you loved teddy bears.”

“No fucking teddy bears,” she heaved.

“Real teddy bears, then?” he suggested, pulling her closer. As soon as he did, she genuinely forgot to breathe. With her hands caught in his and crossed at the top of her bottom, Rocco flexed his fingers against her own, every exhalation pressing his hardened cock firmly against her belly.

In the early days, after the break-up, she’d often had fantasies where she’d publically reject him, humiliate him with her dismissal. He’d be on his knees for her and she’d laugh in his face. Her fantasies conveniently excluded the simple fact that he was Rocco Mamione. And the only time he’d ever been on his knees before her was to bury his face in her pussy.

“This is going to keep happening,” he told her lightly, his lips brushing over her own. Her mouth watered with the taste of him.

“You holding me down?”

She felt his smile. He was too close for her to even see it. “Holding you down, tying you up, making you wet. It’s just up to you where it happens.” The last word was smothered in a laugh. “I’m sorry, I tried to say that with a straight face.”

“How have you been raised in this century?” she asked, trying to inject disgust into her tone, but he was right, the bastard.

“I’m just making myself clear. Everyone else knows that, including you. It’s just that pretty little mouth of yours and all those clever little words that keep falling out of it.”

He released one hand and his own boldly slid inside the waistband of her skirt and delved inside her damp panties. The yelp that burst from Anna’s mouth could have been heard on every single floor of the office block. Now he knew. How right he was, how he just needed to look at her and she was ready for him. “I love that pretty mouth. I love how that pretty mouth looks filled with my cock.”

Two fingers rippled over her pussy, slipping with ease between her lips only to sink inside her. Her heart seized in her throat before thundering in her chest and beating faster between her legs. Holy hell, she couldn’t have said a word, even if she’d wanted to. Rocco swooped down and pressed his mouth to hers. Her free hand delved into his hair, mussing every immaculate strand, and kissed him harder. She wanted to completely merge with him. Good didn’t even begin to describe how she felt, with his thick fingers thrusting inside her pussy. Mad was more like it, with him taunting her as he coaxed her closer and closer to release. God, she wished he’d just unzip and fuck her. As much as she loved a teddy bear, he should have done this a while ago. She arched her body into his hand, rocking against him to race to her deserved orgasm.

Her arm, still locked behind her back and intertwined with Rocco’s, started to ache. But it kept him close to her. It was all she wanted. His hand moved more frantically against her, and the heat that suddenly swamped her body made her collapse against him even as the orgasm tore through her. That long-noted scream was muffled by his mouth as he didn’t lift his lips a millimetre from hers.

The lift juddered and started moving down. “Shit!” Anna swore, pushing him from her and righting her clothing. Blasted man made her feel like a teenage girl who was desperate to get fingered.

“I liked giving you that gift,” he said mildly.

“Shut up,” she muttered, picking up her bag and file case as the lift levelled with the ground floor. Rocco scooped up the bear. The security guard beamed at them.

“That wasn’t too bad for you?”

She felt Rocco’s glance on her, but she refused to look at him. Her embarrassment was going to peak if that guard said a thing about noises or what the lift smelled like.

“Much appreciated.”

“Thanks,” Anna grumbled, skidding past him and hurrying for cooler, sense-laden air.

“Annie,” Rocco called. She wasn’t a coward by anyone’s standards so she’d face him. Turning with her most professional smile, the one she reserved for clients she really couldn’t stand, she looked expectantly at him. “Your bear.”

“I was going to give it to a charity shop.”

He didn’t look his usual immaculate self, and she did want to straighten his hair and smooth the creases in his jacket. “Keep it. Tell me the shop and I’ll make a donation.”

“Stop it,” she growled. “You’ve given me about a second to think about things.”

“I wanted to give you something else to think about. Wouldn’t you like to have me whenever you wanted, or rather, whenever I wanted?”

Yes!
“No.”

“Annie,” he admonished. Her eyes followed the shape his mouth made forming her name. “Whatever is holding you back, go and do it. Because if you keep denying me, I’ll end up bending you over the nearest surface, and I don’t think anyone at Piper & Co. is ready for that.”

“I fucking hate you,” she fumed.

“Shall I drop you home?”

“It’s the fucking least you can do, and if you talk the whole journey, you won’t have anything to bend me over with.”

“What? My cock or my arms?” he asked mildly, heading to the car park.

“Both, you utter dick.”

He smiled. Everyone knew that was the worst thing. Because when he stopped talking, he planned, and that never worked out well for anyone but him. Unless he was thinking of how to finish what they started in the lift in the back of his car.

Anna, Anna, Anna! Stop being a whore for this man and sort yourself out.

Chapter Twelve

Imogen had been avoiding her calls. It wasn’t as if Anna was looking for Imogen’s approval for whatever happened next between her and Rocco. Good lord, her head was full of the possibilities of her and Rocco, but there were things that needed to be said. She called Neil, Imogen’s husband, and asked him when she was going to be at home.

“I don’t really know,” he said with a shrug in his voice. “I can never tell these days. She changes her plans left and right.”

“I’ll take a chance,” Anna replied. She couldn’t reassure him, knowing full well their relationship was heading for the tragic. Imogen lived in Kensington courtesy of her husband’s bonus and the sale of the flat that she’d bought with her “inheritance” money. Despite never being one to run from confrontation, a part of Anna really wanted to go home and pretend this wasn’t happening. She’d worked hard to re-establish her friendship with Imogen, only for it to be blown apart by the truth. It better be the truth, or Rocco Mamione would not be seeing his next birthday.

Imogen had a new nanny, Anna noticed as a strange youngish woman opened the door. “I’m here to see Imogen?”

“Come in,” she muttered. “I’m off.”

The nanny shrugged on her coat and skipped down the stairs. Imogen came to the door, her son in her arms. “If I catch you around here again, I’ll call the police! Oh, Anna. Hi.”

“What’s going on?”

“You may as well come in,” Imogen huffed, handing over the baby and closing the door behind Anna unceremoniously. The baby looked up at her, confused at the change. With a sigh, Anna followed Imogen into the kitchen.

“Drink?”

“I thought you were breastfeeding,” Anna said, frowning as she put her bag down on the breakfast bar without letting the baby go.

“That’s what Neil wanted. I asked Neil if he wanted our child to die from silicone poisoning. End of argument.”

Anna glanced up. “What? When the hell?”

“You thought I went up two cup sizes naturally?”

“I thought you were wearing a better bra plus inserts,” Anna rejoined. “Plus weren’t you the one who said that men know when a woman’s had a boob job?”

Imogen curved her palms over her chest. “These implants would give a surgeon a run for his money in guessing.” The baby snuggled against Anna’s au natural chest and breathed out gently as Imogen poured out two glasses of wine. “So, are you still seeing Corleone?”

Anna had forgotten Imogen had called him that. “At work, yes.”

Imogen shook her head, taking a gulp of wine. “I don’t believe you’d be that stupid.”

“Because I work with him?”

“That you’d even entertain a conversation with him after what he did!”

“After what you both did?” Anna suggested. “I assume it was the both of you, and you weren’t comatose when it happened.”

“Course not,” Imogen snapped. “He wasn’t even that good.”

Okay, now Anna knew she was lying. “Hmm,” she agreed. “Very self-focused.”

“Absolutely.”

“There were times I genuinely expected him to start shouting out his own name,” Anna said leadingly.

“He is so vain.”

“I figured it comes from having ink so close to his cock.”

“What ink?” Imogen asked without a beat. Anna lifted her lashes from the baby’s contented face to Imogen’s flushed one.

“You couldn’t have missed that tattoo.”

Imogen flapped a hand. “It was so long ago, and there were so many before I settled for Neil, so...”

“That just makes me think you always sleep with your friend’s boyfriends. I thought for the sacrifice, you’d remember something.”

“Like what?”

“You don’t remember who approached who?”

“He came to my house.”

“What for?”

“He said he wanted to study.”

“Really?”

“Well I know it was a lie now,” Imogen blustered. “So I let him in.”

“You had sex, at your parents’ house.” This was really starting to make Anna wish she’d interrogated her six years ago.

“They weren’t in.”

“Where’d they go?”

Imogen shrugged. “Where they always go on a Tuesday.”

Anna shook her head. “It wasn’t a Tuesday, Imogen. Tuesdays Rocco always spent with his mates. No fail. Try again.”

“I know they were at bingo, so maybe it was a Thursday. I told you it was a long time ago.”

“It was a Wednesday,” Anna said quietly.

“And you’re so sure?”

“I know the date to the second things happened on that day.” Anna’s voice brokered no argument.

“Fine, it was Wednesday.”

“Then how could you have sex at your parents’ house when they barely let me inside to drop off a book?”

Imogen floundered. “They weren’t there!”

“Where did they go?”

“I’m not their keeper!”

“I think you’re lying,” Anna whispered, looking up again.

“Why would I lie?”

She shrugged. “How much is an alibi worth? When you’re struggling with debts, staying in a house where you can barely breathe without upsetting your parents, when you’d love to do anything but the course you’re doing, how much would an alibi be worth to you then? Certainly worth more than a friendship.”

“Don’t judge me!” Imogen hissed. “I did you a fucking favour!”

“How?” Anna felt like she was at court, with a particularly stupid witness who was stepping into all the right potholes.

“That guy swanned about like he could have any pussy he wanted. I got you out before you were even serious.”

“And you made that decision for me based on what? His behaviour toward me, his attitude toward other girls, or was it that he didn’t give you a second glance?”

Imogen growled, “I don’t know why you’re bringing it up now, it’s not like I can change any of it.”

“You can tell the truth,” Anna suggested sarcastically.

“It’s bullshit. You want to believe that Rocco gave me five hundred grand to get him out of a tight spot. Go ahead, be that fucking stupid.”

Anna uncurled the baby’s hand from her finger. “What an accurate-sounding figure. Interesting, as I never said how much.” Imogen gave a groan of frustration and for a moment, Anna pitied her. “You can tell me what happened. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“You’re so sure?” Imogen sneered.

“Carry on with that attitude and I’ll put in a personal request.” Anna’s smile flicked on and off like a light switch. “Talk.”

Deflated, Imogen spoke with weariness, “I, er... I saw him being marched off into a police car two streets from the college. I was on my way home. I knew he had money, everyone knew he had money. The nearest station to the college was Charing Cross, so I went there and asked for him. When they confirmed, I left, dropped a call to the station and said that he was with me the night before. Either someone had bugged the station or they had links there already, because an hour later I got a call from someone saying if I kept to the story, I’d be compensated. I asked for half a million. Once Rocco was released I got half. The other half when the case against Rocco was dropped.”

Her bravado was breathtaking. Imogen had always been aware of whatever could be advantageous for her, so what could one do but admire her for the sheer fucking balls on the woman? “And I didn’t cross your mind once?”

“Oh fuck off with your sanctimony!” Imogen spat. “You had everything, you were fine! You got the top marks, you fucked off on holiday and apparently banged your way through Malia. That money was my out and I will not apologise for it. I said I did you a favour and I meant it. You really think that Rocco’s mother would want a black girl for a daughter-in-law? I know what that type of women are like—they’re all smiling on the outside and massive fascist racists on the inside.”

Now it was just ugly. Anna handed her back the baby. Imogen needed to pray to God every day that she’d given birth because otherwise, that girl would be dead. “Really, you’re going to play that card with me? You don’t think in my thirty-two years I’ve never encountered a bigot? You didn’t possibly think I could handle myself in that sort of situation, when the main reason people don’t like me is because I’m not shy about telling people where things are? Please, I am begging you, don’t pretend you did any of this for me. It wasn’t at all. Getting a one-up on me was just bonus to getting away from your parents. I have a feeling the only reason you even got back in touch with me in the first place was to get a bit of a hard-on about what you did and the fact you got away with it.” Anna breathed a disbelieving laugh. “God, I really must have hit you hard that night. Oh, and while we’re at it? Let me clear up a little geography for you. Rocco’s
mother
is from Morocco. You know where Morocco is? Let’s say it together:
Africa
.” She picked up her bag and looked Imogen up and down. It was a visual reminder to never, ever doubt her own instincts, which had categorically told her to get fucking rid. “I hope you enjoyed every last penny of that five hundred thousand.”