The Prince’s Game_A Mershano Empire Novel Page 6

  “I’m pretty sure that’s an insult.”

  He grinned. “Probably. But the point is, you’re not the woman my parents picked for the show, and that gives me an advantage. Let me be blunt, Sarah. I’ll pay you to stay on until the end and refuse my proposal.”

  I gaped at him. He couldn’t be serious. “You think money will make up for having to go through all this crap every day for the next two months? Not to mention putting my life on hold and losing my job, and probably my apartment, in the process. For a man I hardly know? Yeah, I’m going with ‘no way in hell.’ ”

  His chuckle was all confidence. This was a man who was used to being told no and negotiating his way out of it. “Your dream is to own a marketing firm that caters to companies with altruistic values, but you know it’s a false hope because they don’t pay well. Isn’t that what you told me the other day?”

  “Yes, and—”

  He pressed a finger to my lips. “Hear me out. What you need is a silent partner, someone to provide initial funding to get you on your feet and help you network. I can provide all of that and more.” He traced my mouth before dropping his hand and laying it a scant inch from my bare legs. “I can contract with your firm for certain marketing needs for the Mershano empire and pay you handsomely for it. It’ll be enough to sustain you for life and grant you the opportunity to do what you love, and I’ll require minimal services in exchange.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, I’m very serious.” All amusement fled his features. His eyes burned with a fervor that elicited a shiver from deep down inside me. That was the kind of look a woman wanted to see in the bedroom. His words, however, were anything but sexy. “I have no desire to marry. Ever. And if it means beating my parents at their own fucked-up game, then that is exactly what I will do.”

  “And if I say no?”

  He didn’t reply right away. “You can’t afford to, Sarah.”

  A simple, quiet statement that implied so much more. I told him I would lose my job if I wasn’t back in Chicago next week, and he had the power to keep me here until then, or longer. “You would force me to stay to spite me for saying no.” Not a question. His unrepentant stare told me I was right. “That does not make me want to help you. At all.”

  “I’m not heartless, Sarah.” He brushed the back of his fingers down my cheek in quiet apology. “But I am desperate.”

  Varying degrees of heat followed that touch, some inspired by his caress but most a result of the anger burning through my veins. I did not like being cornered. “So you’re willing to ruin my life to better yours?”

  “I’m trying to better both of our lives here. I’m offering you your dream career for the price of my freedom. It’s a fair deal. I could keep you here anyway, knowing full well you would reject my proposal out of hatred at the end, and leave you with nothing. That’s not what I want to do. I want to help you, but I need help, too.”

  “And if I go to the media with this little proposition?”

  “Assuming they believe you, it’ll paint a black mark on both of our records. I’m guessing I’ll survive that better than you.” He shrugged. “But go for it.”

  “This is not endearing me to you at all.”

  “Endearment isn’t my goal. I want to come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”

  “One that forces me to give up my life,” I reminded him.

  “But you’ll go home to a new life where you take on the clients you want and report to yourself as a boss. You have to see the allure in that.”

  “Of course I do.” I wasn’t stupid. “But what guarantee do I have that you’ll hold up your end of the bargain? And what happens when the media finds out that the Mershano empire is backing my marketing firm after I conveniently dismissed your proposal?”

  “That’s the beauty of a silent partnership. No one needs to know where the funds came from, not publicly anyway. A couple of years from now when the media hype has died down, the Mershano empire will hire your firm for a sizable annual sum that ensures you have enough funds to stay afloat. Done deal.”

  “Okay, and my guarantee?”

  “My attorney is already drawing up a confidential contract. It’ll have a nondisclosure agreement clause, of course, and the terms of our deal, including funding costs and the future partnership between your firm and my company, for the price of you staying on and refusing my proposal at the end. Two months of hell for a future of freedom.”

  “You’re confident I’ll accept.” Why else would his attorney draft a contract before receiving my verbal commitment?

  “Very.” His grin was all arrogance. “We both know it’s a good deal, Miss Summers. So what are your terms? What will it take to convince you to accept?”

  9

  Coming to Terms

  It was a tempting offer. My position at Stern and Associates was a good job, but I had no intention of staying there in the long term. Evan had the means to make my dreams a reality, and all I had to do was stay on the dating show for two months and reject his proposal. It was more appealing than being forced to stay and reject him for nothing in the end.

  “You do realize even if you make me stay, I could say yes in the end and make your life a living hell.” Not that I wanted to get married, but it would be worth it to make him suffer for being an ass.

  He considered, those piercing eyes assessing. “A risk, certainly, but I suspect your need for independence will prosper in the end. From what I’ve observed, you’re driven—admirably so—and have your priorities in order. And most importantly, you’re not in the market for a marriage certificate. Am I right?”

  That was a lot of detail to gather from a couple of conversations. His astute summarization implied he was skilled at assessing situations and reading people. There was a reason this man managed a hotel empire, and it wasn’t just his last name. Color me impressed. He could vote me in night after night, forcing me to stay against my will, but he was offering me my dreams instead. A ruse, albeit an intelligent one, to keep me agreeable and happy rather than scornful and rude. I would be a fool not to accept it. After a thorough review of the contract, of course.

  I left the bed for the desk. His gaze was like a touch against my ass as I bent over to write down a few key numbers and a name. When I turned, his brown eyes went to my breasts, making me shiver. As far as business practice went, it was inappropriate. But we were negotiating my dating him for a fee, in the bedroom of a hotel. Couldn’t get more lewd than that.

  Rejoining him on the bed, I handed him the paper. “I will agree under the following conditions: First, I want the contract delivered to Rachel Dawson for review. Second, you get me a phone so I can review it with her. Third, we add a clause that guarantees our contract remains intact should you decide to go with a different woman in the end.”

  “Worried I might fall in love?”

  “No, I’m worried I might piss you off.” My ex-boyfriends would all agree to that. I had a habit of being too independent. Men didn’t like that. “Oh, I also reserve the right to add anything else I think of between now and the time I sign the contract, and Rachel can add anything she deems necessary.”

  “Rachel Dawson will need to sign a nondisclosure agreement. Do you trust her to keep it?”

  “Unconditionally. She’s my best friend and the only person, besides you, me, and Abby, who knows why I’m really here. I trust her with my life.”

  He read the contact details. “I’ll ask Will to deliver the papers to her tomorrow.”

  “He’ll go to Chicago for you?”

  “He’s the only one I trust to do it.”

  “I take it he’s not on board with your parents forcing you to get married.”

  “Not at all.” He pocketed the details and eyed me. “As for the phone, I’ll figure something out. I requested you for the one-on-one date on Saturday, but you’re going to need that phone tomorrow to give notice at work. I’ll need to add you to the group date. An afternoon exploring the Frenc
h Quarter with eight women. Should be a blast.”

  “Wow. Don’t sound too excited there, Evan. You might bring down the house.”

  He grinned. “Something tells me having you around for two months won’t be so bad, Sarah.”

  “Oh, give me time. I’ll find a few buttons to push.”

  “I can think of a few I wouldn’t mind pushing.” My nipples stiffened beneath his open perusal. Faking attraction for the camera wouldn’t be a problem here.

  “Draw up the contract.” Then we could talk about buttons.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He stretched his arms over his head, lifting that shirt enough to afford me a glimpse of his belt, before dropping his hands to the bed. “If that’s my cue to leave, I’m ignoring it for a few more minutes. I have no interest in moving.”

  “Hey, it’s your hotel.” I relaxed into the pillows beside him. “I might fall asleep. I have to report downstairs at seven o’clock sharp for filming. Then I finally get to see some of the city.”

  “Is this your first time in The Big Easy?”

  “Yep. My plan was to get kicked off the show the first night so I could explore all the cemeteries before going back to Chicago, but that didn’t happen.” I had a thing for dark, scary places. It went hand in hand with my horror film obsession.

  He pushed off the headboard to scoot down and lie on his back. His arm went behind his head again, and that sliver of skin peeked up at me. I licked my lips. Yum. “Cemeteries, huh? I’d enjoy that more, but Paul wants to hit Bourbon Street and get everyone drunk. I’m positively thrilled by the idea.”

  “I can tell.” I yawned.

  “I’ll see if we can add something historic to the list that doesn’t involve women taking off their shirts for beads. If not, I’ll take you around sometime. I know a few good haunts.”

  “I’d like that.” The bed was too comfortable for me to keep my eyes open. I was exhausted. “You can stay as long as you’d like, but my conversational skills are falling to the wayside.”

  His chuckle was deep, rolling through me on a wave of warmth. I wouldn’t mind hearing more often. “I’ll let you sleep.” He ran the back his fingers over my cheek and down my neck to my shoulder. The tender touch hit every nerve and set my blood on fire. Oh, he’s going to be trouble. His intoxicating scent consumed my senses as he placed a chaste kiss on my lips. “Thank you, Sarah. For everything.”

  Cool air replaced his natural heat, and it was the opposite of what I wanted. I curled my fingers in his jacket and pulled him back down. I wasn’t one to mix business with pleasure, but I could make an exception for this man. His leg slipped between mine as he braced himself with a hand on either side of my head.

  “Did you think of a contract amendment already?”

  “No.” I wasn’t tired anymore. Not with him leaning over me like this. “You know Paul’s going to expect chemistry on set.”

  His eyes dropped to my lips. “That won’t be a problem.”

  No, it wouldn’t. “Our first kiss is not going to be in front of a camera, where I’m receiving some bogus instructions on how to use my tongue or whatever else those producers have in mind. And I won’t be doing anything more than kissing you while on film.”

  “And off film?” One of his hands went to my hip as he lowered himself onto his elbow beside my head, closing the gap between our bodies. His groin was hot and heavy against my leg, leaving no doubt that the attraction between us was definitely mutual.

  “We’ll see where it goes, but it’s not like you won’t be getting action from the other girls.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Should it?”

  “Probably.”

  “Isn’t that the nature of the show?” If I told myself that enough times, I wouldn’t care. I didn’t know him well enough to be jealous. Holding him this close was making my heart race, but that was lust. Deeper feelings weren’t an option between us. As long as I remembered that, I would be fine.

  His thumb slipped beneath my tank top to caress the bare skin of my hip. “I can flirt without getting sexual. I’ve managed to ignore Paul’s encouragement so far.”

  “I bet he hates that.”

  “An added bonus.” His pupils dilated with a hunger that was palpable, the hand on my hip tightening. “He’ll make me eventually. Sooner rather than later, I’m sure.”

  “You make it sound like a chore.” What kind of man complained about making out with various women? The good kind. Not a thought I needed if I wanted my heart to remain off-limits. Lust was an emotion I could handle. Anything deeper, and I would be in trouble.

  “It will be. For the most part, anyway.” Desire radiated from his bedroom eyes as they dropped to my lips again. “If I kiss you right now, I can’t guarantee it’ll stop there.”

  “If you value your contract, you’ll make sure it does.” A kiss was an introduction. That was our current stage. Moving to the next level required more trust. He brushed his fingers over my jaw while still balancing on that forearm.

  “Just so we’re clear”—his lips inched closer with each word, his intention obvious—“when I stop, it’s only because you tell me to.” An electric current zipped down my spine, igniting every nerve ending in my body as his mouth took mine.

  I tangled my fingers in his thick hair and reveled in his passionate claim. Mint, wine, and scotch blended in my mouth as his tongue twined with mine. As far as first kisses went, this one blew my mind. There was nothing slow or gentle about it. His mouth left no question as to what kind of lover he would be. Demanding, hot, and oh-so passionate. I loved it.

  My stomach was in knots—the good kind—and my hard nipples grazed my top. I wanted to tear the offending fabric from my body and rub against his leather jacket. Too fast, too soon.

  This man could ruin me, and I wouldn’t regret a second of it. The realization both terrified and thrilled me. I ran my hands down his back, luxuriating in the leather and hard male beneath. He was temptation incarnate, surrounding me on the soft, plush bed. The hard thigh lodged between my legs was an invitation for so much more. When my palms drifted down to cup his ass, he lifted a fraction.

  “Groping was not part of our agreement tonight, Miss Summers.” Arousal thickened his voice, going straight to the apex between my thighs. I wanted to hear all sorts of dirty things come out of his mouth in that tone while in bed, and now was a great time to start.

  “Yeah?” I squeezed. “What are you going to do about it?”

  He removed his hand from my hip to palm my breast. I arched into his touch, my nipples oh-so sensitive from the thin layer of fabric separating them from his leather jacket.

  “Responsive. I like that.” He licked my lower lip. “I plan to learn all about you over the next two months, Sarah. What makes you moan, how hard you come, how you taste.” Another slow lick, followed by him dipping his tongue into my mouth for an open kiss. I was shaking when he pulled back again, my body more than ready to move to the next level of this seductive game. “In due time. But first, I have a contract to draw up.”

  “Tease.”

  “I told you when I started, you were the one who set the terms. I’m only abiding by them.” He kissed my cheek and lifted off of the bed. I smiled when he adjusted his jeans. I wasn’t the only one left in a sensual fog from a kiss. If he can kiss like that, the other things he could do with that mouth . . . I shuddered. He was more than welcome to taste me anytime he liked.

  “Don’t forget I want a phone to talk to Rachel tomorrow.” My calm tone was undermined by my stiff nipples, something his gaze not only noticed but admired through the thin cotton of my tank top.

  “I’ll get you a phone, but it’ll be up to you to hide it.”

  “I can handle that.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt as to what you can handle, sweetheart.” He fixed his jacket and ran a hand through his hair, giving it that fresh-out-of-bed look. How appropriate. “I’d kiss you good night, but I’ll just end up in bed again with you looking at
me like that.”

  My grin was all female satisfaction. It felt good being wanted by a man like Evan Mershano. I didn’t need compliments, but a little ego-stroking went a long way. He walked around to the foot of the bed and sat to put on his shoes. When he stood, it was to run his fingers through his hair again and blow out a breath.

  “Can you check the hallway?”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s probably a good idea.” I popped out of bed and checked the peephole first before the hallway. “All clear,” I whispered.

  His palm landed on my ass as he pushed into me from behind. “This is almost as alluring as the towel.” He pressed a kiss below my ear, scattering goosebumps down my spine. I was a sucker for a man’s lips on my neck, and the grin I felt there told me he noticed. “Good night, Sarah.”

  He stepped around me with a wink and left on silent feet. I hope there aren’t any hidden cameras in the hallway, or we’re both screwed.

  10

  Dancing in the Street

  The producers let me wear jeans and flats to wander Bourbon Street. I was in heaven, with the exception of being on a date with eight girls and one man.

  Evan was supposed to get me a phone today, but I didn’t see how that would be possible with all the cameras. The late afternoon hour meant I wouldn’t be able to call my boss until Monday to give my notice. Not that I planned to do so without a signed contract in hand. That would be naive.

  I kept my distance, listening while socializing with a petite woman named Lily. I liked the girl. She was quirky, had a computer science degree, and was one of the few women not trying to climb Evan like a tree.

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s what he had in mind when he suggested dessert,” she muttered as Carmen dumped powdered sugar all over Evan’s black shirt and dark jeans. He made the mistake of buying us beignets after lunch. The wannabe brides were all worked up over the sexy lilt that came out when he ordered. It seemed the prince knew how to please the locals with his southern charm, or maybe he fell back into the accent on instinct. Either way, it was hot as hell.