Billionaires Dollar Series

But she doesn’t fight.

“Yes,” she says instead. “Exactly as hollow as that.”This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Perhaps I prefer it that way.” I take a sip of my brandy to gather my wits. The women I’d been with had never wanted anything but my notoriety, my edge, my money. They’d enjoyed it when I was rough in bed, wanting the man they thought Nicholas Park was. No one asked questions like these. What about your family? Bah.

The point of this had been to make Blair back off. To see that this was a bad idea.

I hadn’t succeeded at all.

Blair steps closer. A lock of her hair falls forward and she pushes it back impatiently. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Believe what you wish.” I make my words deliberately cold, looking away from her as if she’s not inches from my face. For years, my unfeeling facade had worked with her. All attempts of reaching out had been rebuffed like this. I wait in pained silence for her irritation, for her turning away.

“Damn it, Nick, you’re making this far harder than it needs to be.” Her eyes blaze with anger, her hands clasped into fists at her side. But as I watch, the anger flares and morphs into fierce determination.

And then she attacks me.

There is no other way to describe it. She forces her way into the circle of my arms, a living flame come to life, her lips warm against mine. There’s no finesse to it. Perhaps that’s why it overwhelms me so. My body had already been on the edge from her nearness, and with her warm scent crashing into me, my dams break.

I catch her around the waist. It’s nothing at all to pull her against my body, her soft breasts giving way against my chest. The kisses she gives me are fierce with determination. The message is clear.

As if you like it hollow!

My hands gripping her waist, I take control of the kiss. I’ll give you more than you bargained for, it says. Her mouth opens against my tongue and her body melts into mine as I push her against the desk.

Just like last time, and the time before that, kissing is a far better language for us. Words are unnecessary when her arms twine around my neck. This says everything and more.

And hollow it is not.

Not for all in the world can I imagine letting her go. How could I, when she’s soft and warm and so willing and I’m drowning in this, in her, in the sensations-

“Mr. Park? You have a phone call.”

“Damn it,” I curse, reaching past her to press down on the answering intercom on my desk. “Take a message,” I bark.

Blair giggles, her hands coming down to rest on my chest. “What awful timing he has,” she says, reaching up to kiss my neck.

I push her back. “Not here.”

She rocks back on her heels with a pout, but nods. “All right. Where, then?”

“So eager, Blair?”

She reaches out and runs a finger over the edge of my jaw. The simple touch sends a shiver through me, and she sees that. “I think we both are,” she murmurs. “This has been a long time coming.”

Eight years, to be exact.

“I’ll figure something out,” I say. “Now, will you be able to behave yourself in the future?”

“Behave myself?”

“No attacks,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Consider your brother’s house neutral territory.”

“It’s Switzerland,” she agrees warmly. Her eyes dance as she looks up at me. Finally, I think-I’m finally seeing the Blair that she shows to other people. The Blair who has so much lightness in her that it spills out at the seams. I doubt I’m worthy of the sight, but damn if it doesn’t warm me regardless.

“Behave yourself,” I murmur again, bending my head to press a final kiss to her full lips. She sighs into the kiss, warm, trusting, lovely. I straighten just as she steps closer.

“Not here,” I say darkly. “You’d better leave, before I completely lose my head.”

“And that would be a bad thing?”

“Oh, it definitely would.”

She heads to the door, pausing before it. Her lips are curved. “So we’ll get to know one another… better.”

And damn it, but how can I not give her what she wants when it’s what I’m dying for as well? “Yes,” I agree. “We will.”

“But that’s the thing,” Maddie says triumphantly. “It didn’t work! So now they’re stuck renovating the entire property regardless, and it’s not usable until spring.”

The rest of us laugh obediently, John shooting Maddie a particularly warm smile.

“So your family is out of a chalet this winter,” Tate says. “How tragic.”

“You should organize a fundraiser,” I suggest dryly. “It’s a charitable cause.”

That gets genuine laughter. Maddie elbows me playfully. “Only if you promise to be the hostess.”

As the conversation continues, my eyes sweep the fashionable crowd. The Seattle Fashion Institute has decided to celebrate the opening of New York Fashion Week remotely. A highlight reel is running on a giant projector screen, and below the giant catwalks, Seattle’s fashion-interested sip on champagne.

It’s a room that younger me would have loved being in. But ever since the fashion disaster that was my first line, I’m uncomfortably aware of what some of the experts in the room probably think of me.

Sipping my champagne, I glance around the room and the illustrious attendees.

That’s when I see him. Nick, casually leaning against the opposite wall, a glass of brandy in hand. In the dim lighting, his suit looks like poured ink on his large frame. His eyes sweep the crowd like a predator’s before they lock with mine.

What’s he doing here?

I raise my champagne glass in greeting.

He inclines his head, his lips half-curled. There’s something in his gaze, something I want to explore further, but then he looks down at a woman approaching him. Long dark hair, an asymmetric dress. I force myself to look away.

The conversation continues around me but it’s just words now, words I have difficulty following. When I glance back to Nick, he’s gone, and so is the woman he was talking to. The champagne burns pleasurably down my throat.

“Excuse me for a moment.” I weave through the crowd with practiced ease. Several people stop me to talk, and I do my best to be in the moment, but my eyes can’t seem to stop roving. Why the hell is he here?

Was this what he meant by figuring something out?

I curse my heels as I walk up the steps to the calmer mezzanine. No Amazon-sized models walking here, and no house music either. Is he here?