So Much More

  Markus scooted close to Hannah and cupped her face in his large palm, allowing a portion of his seething frustration at her for not telling him the truth to tighten his features as his eyes hovered over the bruises and the shadows under her eyes. “You were mugged while jogging last night in Central Park.” Was it a jealous boyfriend?

  “Is he going to be asking many questions? Whether I’ve gone to the police? Or—”

  “He is being very well-paid, future Mrs. Blackthorn.” His hand fell from her face. “That reminds me…”

  He rose and went to his glass desk to pick up a huge black leather box and set it on the sofa between them. Gesturing with a jerk of his chin, he said, “Go ahead. Open it.”

  She laid the box in her lap and tugged the lid open.

  An astonishing array of jewels twinkled up at her. From a classic set of round-cut diamonds to a modern day-by-day gold and leather bracelet, the box had everything that a normal woman could dream of, and then some. But then Markus was as far from normal as a man could get.

  “Holy crap,” she whispered. “I can’t possibly wear these.”

  He raised his brows. “Better get over that, quick, because you’re going to be wearing them. You’ve got to look the part.”

  Of course. “These…these are not your mother’s, are they?”

  “No. They are new.” He reached out and selected diamond earrings. “For everyday wear. Classic, understated elegance.”

  Understated? “Tell me you didn’t buy these for me.”

  “I did,” he said, shooting her a lazy smile.

  “What if I lose something?”

  He shrugged. “They’re insured.”

  She tried to ignore how his muscles bunched as she pushed her hair to the side to put the earrings on. Her attraction to him irritated her at the same time it left her giddy. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “It’s not an issue, Hannah.” When she finished, he reached into his cardigan pocket and handed her a small, square box. “Here, future Mrs. Blackthorn.”

  She opened it and her emotions ran riot. That was not the way Hannah had dreamt she would receive her engagement ring—and to make it worse, as a teenager she had naïve dreams of Markus kneeling at her feet and asking her to marry him. This is not for real. One day a man you love will get on his knees and ask for you in marriage. She scoffed at the fantasy. And give you a zirconia ring. Yet she couldn’t seem to find the courage—and detachment—to remove the large solitaire square-shaped emerald, set in a thin band of white gold paved with diamonds from its navy velvet nest.

  “I hope it fits as I had to guess your size. Come on, try it on.” When she didn’t make a move, he pulled the ring from the box, reached for her hand, and gently pushed it on her finger. Examining it under the light, he said, “Matches your eyes.”

  She huffed, feeling out of her league. “I don’t believe my eyes match the price of this emerald.”

  “Of course not.” Not liking that she clearly felt embarrassed, he added, “Your eyes are priceless.”

  His seductive tone sent a shiver over her. “Boucheron might not agree with you.”

  He ran his thumb over the pulse point in her wrist. “How does it feel?”

  Feel? Hannah looked at the ring and with a sense of disenchantment she reminded herself it was only a front. “Fine, I guess.”

  “Do you feel engaged?”

  Uh? “Not exactly.”

  “Maybe we should take this a step further.” His hand curled around her neck and he kissed her.

  Caught by surprise, she gasped and his tongue slid between her lips. His scent was all around her, dominating her senses. He seemed to radiate heat; hot liquid fire that consumed her sanity and her thoughts.

  Hannah had been kissed before, but never like this, never by a man like Markus. There was no tenderness in his kiss. It was all passion. There was a confidence of movements and in the sure way he held her that made her feel feminine and desired. Before she knew what she was doing she was kissing him back, her arms winding around his neck, her fingers dipping in his soft hair, pulling his head down.

  Markus deepened the kiss as he felt her melting against him, his hand moving down to the silk covered curve of her lower back, closing the space between them.

  An insistent knock on the door made her aware of what she was doing. She pushed him away with a huff of anger—at least, she tried to convince herself it was anger that made her heart pound and her blood boil, because the alternative was too unacceptable.

  Hannah didn’t know if she wanted to crawl under the sofa and hide in shame, or push Markus out the window. She shook her head at the silly options and glared at him, hissing, “The door.”

  “Now you look like a woman in love.” Although his body was reacting in an unruly way, he smirked at her, rose, and went to the door, opening it. “Dr. Hanssen, welcome.”

  Great. Just great. Hannah stood and plastered a smile on her face. Showtime, future Mrs. Blackthorn.

  8:30 p.m.

  “Stop by the clinic tomorrow and we’ll see about this cast,” said Dr. Hanssen as Markus and Hannah walked him to the penthouse’s private elevator. “A fissure doesn’t take long to heal.”

  “I will.” Hannah smiled at him. “Thanks, doctor.”

  “My driver is already waiting to take you home,” Markus said. “Thanks again for coming on such short notice, Dr. Hanssen.”

  “Anytime, Markus.”

  Hannah felt herself relax as the elevator doors closed. “That was easy.”

  Markus’s smirk told Hannah he hadn’t been the least concerned about Dr. Hanssen’s visit.

  “Hungry?”

  More tired than hungry. She shrugged. “I guess I could eat something.”

  “Come. Let me introduce you to my housekeeper and I’ll give you a tour while she prepares dinner.”

  10:00 p.m.

  The food smelled wonderful and Hannah was sure it tasted even better, but she was so tired it was as if she had eaten cardboard. And although she managed to keep her eyes open and not yawn, she was so grateful when Markus suggested they should retire early that she almost thanked him.

  While she applied St. John’s wort oil on her bruises, as prescribed by Dr. Hanssen, she gave her image in the mirror a serious pep talk. He’s a billionaire; you’re just the daughter of an ex-housekeeper. And now his employee. You are not going to fall for his seduction, are you?

  She wasn’t going to fool herself. Her body wanted him. But that didn’t mean it was wise to get involved with him. Besides, she’d need a level head to get through a whole year as his wife.

  Hannah knew better than to mix business and pleasure, no matter how handsome and yummy the pleasure looked. On the other hand, it isn’t like either of us are attached or in danger of becoming attached.

  “Stop it,” she said to herself.

  Yes, she’d been fascinated by him once—and if she was honest with herself, she still was—but that had been from a distance. Up close, she had been very aware it wasn’t safe to be alone with him. He was capable of amusing himself by reducing her to a pool of molten desire with nothing but the exquisite silk of his voice and the deliciousness of his sinful mouth…before he really began to tear her heart apart.

  She shook her head, refusing to consider the issue anymore as she finished brushing her hair. What you need now is a good night of rest. Tomorrow, you’ll be able to put it all into the correct perspective.

  With that, she switched off the dressing room lights and cautiously made her way to the bed in the darkness.

  Her eyes closed before she even hit the soft, thick mattress and a sigh escaped her lips as she relaxed against the pillows.

  “Mmm, finally. I thought you’d never get here.”

  Hannah’s eyes popped open in surprise at Markus’s deep voice so near her. She held perfectly still, not daring to believe her ears. But the warm fire which shot through her body, when his hand skimmed over her stomach, exactly where the shi
rt had lifted to reveal a patch of bare skin, made her swat the fingers back and stumble from the bed back to the floor.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.

  The bedside table lamp flared to life.

  “What?” With a roguish confident smile, Markus pushed up sideways on his forearm and asked in a low, seductive rumble, “You aren’t happy to see me?”

  His coal-black hair was tousled erotically around his face and his dark eyes beckoned her back to his side. She glanced at his strong hands, her stomach tingling where he touched her. Every nerve inside her hummed with life, begging her to let him have his way. Yet, his easy tone infuriated her, more so since she found him incredibly sexy sitting bare-chested on her bed.

  Her eyes again roamed down his long frame, hesitating at the obvious arousal between his thighs. When her eyes returned to his face, his grin had widened.

  And Hannah had a vivid image of her fist connecting with his patrician nose to knock the smile off his face. “What—why would I be happy to see you?” Happy isn’t exactly the word for what I’m feeling at the moment.

  “Well, after we kissed earlier…” He let the sentence go unfinished as he took in how sexy she looked in the silk and lace pajamas.

  Hannah’s eyes widened in disbelief and she blurted, “Did you hear me say, hey, Markus, come to my bedroom later tonight? Meet me in my bed so we can continue? I don’t think so, buddy.”

  Markus laughed, an aggravatingly rich sound to her ears. Sitting up, he gave a light shrug. “Well, no, you didn’t. And for your information, this is my bedroom, my bed.”

  Hannah’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. For the life of her, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that. They hadn’t spoken about sleeping arrangements, but she had thought his bedroom—the bedroom she was standing in right now!—was a guest room. She blamed her tiredness for failing to notice the small details that might have given it away, such as family photographs over the desk and even his tie carelessly thrown over the armchair in the corner.

  “That way is my dressing room and bathroom.” He gestured to another opening on the other side of the bedroom. If he possessed a bit of decency, he would have given her the guest room from the beginning. But decency was the last thing on his mind when Hannah was around. “This is the master bedroom.”

  The way he said it sent a frisson through her body and although the idea of sleeping with him in the same bed was more than appealing, she was not going to let him goad her into sharing his bed. “And where am I going to sleep?”

  He frowned. “Here, of course.”

  She wished she could cross her arms over her chest, not only because she was annoyed with him—and with herself—but also to hide her erect nipples. She chose to scowl down at him. “Mister Blackthorn. There is no of course in this case. We have agreed on a no-sex arrangement. That means we are sleeping in separate rooms.”

  “We agreed on making this real,” he said, with a twist of those full lips, just to have Hannah turn her back on him.

  Yeah, we did, but that doesn’t mean… “Mr. Blackthorn—”

  “Stop mister-ing me!” He jumped off the bed and caught her arm, making her face him. This wasn’t working out how Markus had planned and that irritated him. “We made a deal.”

  She raised her chin. “Until the wedding night we sleep in separate bedrooms.”

  “On what basis?” Markus blew an impatient sigh, not only at her stubbornness but at the raging, throbbing erection pulsing between his legs and tenting his pajama shorts. He was counting on the shadows to keep at least a bit of his dignity intact. “You’re too old to claim you’re a virgin saving yourself for the nuptial night. Besides, there are employees around. Employees talk.”

  That made her pause. He was not entirely wrong and his reasoning was logical.

  She knew all that, but she didn’t want to be logical at the moment. She was pissed. And wanted to stay that way. No matter at what. Or who.

  “Your employees don’t know if I am a virgin or not.”

  The tilt of her chin told him she wasn’t going to be so easily convinced. “We have a deal and I’ve already paid in advance for your time. I bought it.”

  Markus realized he said the wrong words the moment they left his mouth.

  A ball of rage exploded in the pit of Hannah’s stomach. She narrowed her eyes at him and hissed, “Screw you and your bloody money.”

  That wasn’t good. What was I thinking? He shoved his fingers in his hair, studying her rigid expression. “Hannah, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “You think you can buy everyone and everything, Your Majesty? Well, you can’t.” Hannah shook her head. She shouldn’t have been surprised at him behaving like his father. “I won’t be your whore.”

  “Hannah—” He lifted his hand, but dropped it. Shit.

  “Get out, Markus.” She pointed to the door, without another glance at him. “Just. Get. Out.”

  “Good night.” He left her alone in his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him and crossed the corridor to the guest room.

  Throwing himself on the bed, he muttered, “Goddamnit, goddamnit.”

  She was desperate to accept his job offer, he knew it, and for a moment his conscience made him uncomfortable that he was playing with her. For whatever the reason, he wanted to push Hannah, and keep pushing her until she ignited into the passionate woman he was sure he’d find hiding under all that flaming red hair. If he boiled that little vixen’s blood the right way, he bet the rewards would be great.

  Yet, he’d lost his focus in a big way. Focus was his edge, the quality that separated him from the pack of other men. It allowed him to build a billion dollar empire.

  Markus briefly wondered if he lacked focus where women—and relationships—were concerned before he quickly reasoned he didn’t have the time or inclination for any relationship right now.

  Pathetic. “You need to get laid, Markus,” he whispered to the empty room. “It has been too long since you had a woman.”

  Saying it out loud made him feel better and helped shoo away whatever ghosts might come to haunt him.

  That’s the source of the problem. A man with my appetites needs release on a regular basis.

  He made a mental note to call his favorite escort service sometime next week to let out some steam. He would make sure he got a brunette or a blonde, because a redhead was already making his life too complicated.

  CHAPTER 10

  Friday, October 3, 2014

  7:30 a.m.

  Jackass, Don Juan, entitled pig! She mentally cursed him as she chose her clothes for the day, pretending to not see the absurd prices on the tags, and wondering what Markus would consider an understated elegance for gala wear. She had tried on all the outfits in the dressing room and separated those she would be returning to Bergdorf.

  Hannah had always been a sexually charged person, but she normally took care of matters herself. In her life, she hadn’t had too many opportunities—or enough time—for finding boyfriends, lovers, or even one night-stands. But not even her most treasured BOB could solve matters after Markus had left her room. Only a very cold shower had restored her control over her body after a night of erotic dreams featuring Markus as the lead character.

  She was making a mental list of what she would be needing when she realized she was not hearing the sound of the garbage men emptying the dumpster or her old neighbor’s smoker’s cough or even car horns. She was so used to the annoying, hated sounds, she found strange all the calm and silence surrounding Markus’s penthouse.

  One can get used to this. Giving a final touch to her make-up, she exited the suite. Yeah, and this can be a huge problem in the future.

  Markus looked up from his newspaper and groaned. His worst fears and best fantasies were coming home to roost. Hannah was a vision of morning allure.

  “Markus,” Hannah acknowledged politely when she stepped into the room that adjou
rned the white and steel kitchen.

  Her emerald-green eyes glinted in the sunlight coming from the window, and he had the sudden and powerful urge to close the distance between them and take her delicate face in his hands, claim her lips with his own.

  Stop. He folded his paper with a snap, placed it on the table beside his mug, and glared briefly at her. He’d had a bad night tossing and turning, first trying to figure out how he would seduce her, and then trying to erase her body from his mind and get some sleep. To no avail. To say he was grumpy that morning was an understatement.

  Fine. If you want to be childish and stay angry, so will I. Hannah glared back and walked to the console where a Nespresso machine and a huge selection of capsules beckoned. She chose a strong blend, put it in the machine, and pressed the button for the espresso size.

  She glanced at Markus’s frowning face as she selected a Greek yogurt from a bowl filled with ice and some blueberries from a fruit tray.

  The trouble was Hannah didn’t want to stay angry. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him full on the mouth. She sighed as she set her plate on the table.

  The sigh prompted him to glance up from his coffee. He stared at her but didn’t say anything.

  “Well, excuse me,” she snapped as she pulled a chair out. “Did my sigh disturb you?”

  Yeah, it made me notice you more. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Change of tactics. Markus asked in a sweetened voice, “Where is my good morning kiss, Cupcake?”

  Cupcake? She looked surprised at him. Markus didn’t seem one for sweet talk. Her mind chose that moment to recall the details of his naked chest as he lounged on the bed and the vividness of her dreams. He is my ticket to insanity.

  He picked up the sharp bread knife and cut a piece of bread just to do something with his hands, not really expecting her to give him a kiss.

  Summoning the best of her aloofness while toying with the thought of picking up the bread knife he had just put down and practicing castration right there in the kitchen, she went back to the console to pick up her cup of coffee. “Did you sleep well, Muffin?”