Page 3 of Selfish Desires

“Vincent.” I snapped my fingers while he stared at the screen, keeping me from seeing anything. “Vincent, come on. Talk to me.”

“I'm right here, babe.” Vincent swallowed and shoved the phone in his pocket. “I'm telling you. Playing poker was a lot less stressful than this fucking straight white-collar job. You see what it does to me.” He motioned to the color returning to his face.

“Whatever you say, Vin. I just want you to be okay.” I leaned up, kissing his rough cheek.

“But I am okay. With you, I'm always okay,” Vincent replied, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. His lips twitched into a reassuring smile, but his eyes betrayed him. “Come on. Let's get out of here and go home. What do you say?”

I followed him out the double doors and into the blustery New York City streets. I sometimes forgot how harshly the wind slapped my face when it snaked between the skyscrapers at night. Vincent hailed a taxi and slid into the backseat, pulling me close as the driver wove through the city's maze. I kept my eyes on his face, searching for any sign of what his cryptic text message might have held. The only light came from the streaks of neon signs and street lamps that danced across our bodies.

His grip tightened around me as his gaze from the window grew distant, lost in his thoughts. I longed to bring him back, to pull him away from whatever business problem was consuming him.

“Look at me.” I stroked his cheek. He turned to me, his sharp features softened by my touch. His eyes bore into mine intensely, a tumultuous mix of emotions swirling within them—love, fear, frustration.

“You can't keep shutting me out, Vincent,” I told him. My voice held a note of desperation that I hadn't intended for it to carry. He sighed and kissed my forehead, a soft whisper against my skin.

“I know,” he admitted in a low voice. “I'm sorry.”

My heart fluttered at his apology; he rarely admitted to being wrong about anything. But as we pulled up to our apartment complex, I knew this wasn't over. The worry lines on his face deepened when he thought I wasn't looking.

As the cab pulled away and we crossed the lobby together, arm in arm, I saw our reflection on the polished white-veined marble floor. We looked content on the surface—a happy couple returning from an evening wedding party—but an undercurrent of tension tightened in the pit of my stomach.

As we ascended to our penthouse suite and closed the door behind us, Vincent's facade began to crumble. He ran a hand through his hair and undid his tie with a muttered curse.

I stood at the entrance, watching him as he paced back and forth, his mind clearly elsewhere. I wanted to reach out and hold him, but I knew whatever was troubling him would be bigger this time than us.

I watched him sink onto the plush leather couch, his head falling into his hands with a heavy sigh. It tore me apart to see him like this, but I knew that no amount of comfort could alleviate the weight he was carrying.

“Fucking rich dipshits, I tell you. They have no life on a Saturday night. The markets don't open until Monday morning. What do they want me to do about it? What other contract between them and their brokers can I review and approve tonight?” Vincent dragged his hand through his hair for the hundredth time, giving him a wild werewolf vibe, with the moon's white light illuminating his frame.

“I'm sorry they bother you so much, baby.” The click of my heels filled the apartment's blank space as I sauntered to the couch. I hiked up my dress and threw one leg, followed by the next, over Vincent's lap.

His gaze locked onto mine as his hands came to rest on my thighs. I shivered, not from the cool touch of his hands but from the intensity of his stare. He could make me feel like the only woman in the world, even when he was burdened with secrets tearing him apart.

I unbuttoned his shirt with nimble fingers, revealing a toned chest that rose and fell with each labored breath. His eyes never wavered from mine as his fingers dug into my thighs gently. “This has to stop, Vincent,” I muttered, tracing a path down his bare chest with my fingertips.

“And it will. I promise.” His fingers traced absent circles on my thigh, his touch becoming more desperate with each passing second.

Leaning into him, I planted a defiant kiss on his lips, brushing away his fears. “We'll face it together, Vincent. As long as we're together, everything will be okay.” I pressed my lips against his mouth. And I saw hope in his eyes for the first time tonight.

He grabbed my hair, twisting it roughly around his hand, pulling my head back, and exposing my neck. Vincent traced a line with his velvet tongue from my jaw down to my collarbone, sending a flood of heat to my sex. He tugged harder on my hair, causing me to gasp, but in a good, pulsing way.

“That's a good girl.” His warm breath tickled my ear.

Good girl? This was new, sending my pulse into a frenzy as the skin on my chest glowed crimson.

“Want to try something different tonight?” Vincent's dark tone sent shivers down my spine, and all I could give was a simple nod. “That's it.” He snaked a finger under my dress, pulling my black lace thong to the side, dipping a finger into my warm, dripping center. “Be a good little slut, go into the bedroom, take off all your clothes, and wait on your knees on the floor in front of the bed,” he growled.

My stomach tightened from his words. This was an entirely different side of Vincent, one I had never seen before. But the way he commanded me sent a thrill racing to my pussy. His words sent my nerves into overdrive, exposed, and, for once, I was completely his.

I was going to ruin Wendy.

There was no other way to go about it than this path I chose. I didn't even expect the plan to hatch the way it had, but I had to do right by her in my fucked up mind. This would be my last night with Wendy before I left her and our life for good.

Oh, Wendy. My vivacious, perfect Wendy. How could I taint her beautiful soul? Yet, my past was a monster that refused to stay buried. I didn't choose it, but it chose me—and now, it was choosing for us. I should have listened to Zachary when I got carried away when a fool owed us too much. It was a mistake I didn't view as one then. But I got too caught up, and my fucking ego and dick ruled the world for me back then, apparently. And now, everything was falling apart.

But there was one goal in my mind that I refused to dismiss: to keep Wendy safe.

Believe it or not, Zachary was never near the level of what I would do to close a deal. That was all me. Win at all costs, and never lose a bet. I was the shark who went in for the kill. Zachary was the person who devised the plan, but I was the one who always made sure it happened.

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