Page 25 of Wreckin' Amethyst

“Amethyst!” a voice calls through the central hall. Sharing a look with Pig, I shrug. Either these girls have access to the security cams or they’re psychic. But as I round the corner, I see neither is true. Lou is standing by the front door, looking at me expectantly. Over the threshold, a suited man in a flat cap I recognize as the limo driver is standing, a singular purple rose in hand. I approach with caution, a shuffling puppy around my ankles.

“Mr. Hudson requests you join him for an important meeting. He asked me to give you this.” After I’ve accepted the rose, he returns to his limo and sits in the driver’s seat facing forward. Lou lingers for a moment, eyeing the note attached to the stem, which I now realize holds petals in the exact same shade as my hair. I couldn’t have color matched it better myself. Turning, I retreat to the BDSM room for some privacy before peering inside the folded paper in privacy.

I have a 40-minute window to sneak away, and a PI session being held in your name. Let’s get some answers.

My heart judders. He heard me on the boat. Not only that, Myles has arranged an appointment on my behalf. The limo horn honks from outside and I’m spurred into action without time to think. Sure, I’ve tried to hire a private investigator myself but we’re not talking about tracking down a long lost relative. We’re talking big money, men who deem themselves as untouchable gods and those who fear making a move against them. There’s only so far a PI could probe before either being bought off or they suddenly go missing. Perhaps Myles can open doors my fake name is unable to.

Placing the rose on the bedside table, I quickly change. Forty minutes is all Myles can offer me, and it could possibly be the most important forty minutes of my life.

Chapter 17

Craig,asI’vediscoveredthe limo driver answers to, speeds away from the sidewalk the moment I’ve shut the rear door. I rock back on the sturdy Doc Martin soles, peering up at the looming skyscrapers lining either side of the street. Myles summoned me to the city, but I was expecting a backstreet office building hidden from view. Like the others I’ve used, and probably where I was going wrong. The wall of glass before me couldn’t be further from that sense of familiarity, the door being pulled open by a smiling assistant.

“Miss Amethyst?” I narrow my eyes at her suspiciously, announcing my name so publicly for those passing between us. Her dark hair is pulled back into a too-tight bun, her smart attire polar opposite to my baggy rock band tee and torn jeans. Yeah, I went full incognito, although there seems to be no need. Her smile doesn’t falter as I lift my chin and stride passed.

The lobby opens into a huge circular space, fitted with a plush waiting area opposite the reception desk. More beaming assistants sit behind, all too happy to see me. All of the furniture is white and gleaming beneath the biggest golden chandelier suspended in mid-air. Spiraling floors of offices wind upwards, creating ‘Steele’s Law Firm’ as displayed across the entire back wall in gold letters taller than me. The door at my back is opened again, and in swoops Myles. The women nearby stand, drifting closer as if pulled by invisible ties. When his arm rounds my back and he places a kiss on my forehead, I hear the collective sigh of swooning. So it wasn’t me they were so happy to see, but the company I apparently keep.

“I love your outfit,” Myles mutters into my ear. I frown at the black t-shirt that touches the rips on my thighs, pointing at the death metal logo of skeletons raising their middle fingers.

“This is yours, isn’t it?” I query. The t-shirt was in the dresser back in the BDSM room, but the longer its scent envelopes me, the more certain I am. Myles’ smile stretches even wider.

“Indeed. Seeing you in my clothing draws out the primal side of me to take you in it.” Any response I could have had is cut short by the assistant who is on door duty, appearing in front of us.

“Mr Hudson – Ms Steele is ready for your prenup meeting.”

“Our what-wait-what?”

“Thank you, Samantha,” Myles nods with a heavy dose of familiarity. Allowing Myles to guide me into a waiting elevator, I wait for the doors to close before stepping out of his hold.

“So, since apparently I’m marrying you now - how many of those women ogling out there have you slept with?” I resist folding my arms, gripping the railing.

“Are you jealous?” Myles cocks his head, his blond hair crinkling over the collar of his white shirt. Top bottom popped, sleeves rolled up, his golden skin fights to break free of the cotton confines. I shake my head, mimicking his smile.

“Who wets your cock is of no concern to me. I don’t like being paraded around under false pretenses.”

“What you mean is,” Myles steps into my personal space, “you don’t like people thinking you’d be another notch on my bedpost.” Dipping his mouth close to mine, Myles reaches behind me to halt the elevator mid-journey. The entire vessel is glass, drawing the attention from those in offices across the other side of the balcony. I can’t pay them too much notice, when Myles’ presence consumes the air. Authority seeps from him, a quiet confidence I’ve seen evading him at the manor. This isn’t Myles, the man who is ordered around by his best friend. This is the business mogul and cover model the rest of the world sees. Drawing the backs of his fingers down my arm, I conceal a shiver.

“To answer your question, Ms Steele was my lawyer during the rape trials. While she was in court defending me, I was ironically screwing my way through her entire staff body. Kind of like a score card I just had to complete. The press had already decided I was guilty - I didn’t see the point of going celibate by then.”

“That was dangerous. Anyone could have claimed you forced them and seen you committed to jail instead of a rehab facility,” I raise a brow. His fingers find my hand, interlinking them with mine and in one swift move, my hand is pinned above me against the glass.

“Is that concern I hear?” Myles smirks, pressing his lips against my jaw before guiding my arm to lay over his nape. “I was stupid back then. The spoiled, gluttonous heir you believe me to be. But that’s not who I am anymore.” Lowering himself, my hand falls naturally into his hair.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask as Myles settles on his knees, his mouth inches from my center. I’m not against being licked out with an audience, but where Myles is concerned, there’s a point of no return. A barrier I can’t let him breach, because one taste wouldn’t be enough. He’s too experienced to not rock my fucking world and turn me into one of those sappy girls downstairs. Yearning from a distance isn’t my style.

Yet my hand remains in his hair. I toy with a curl as his breath fans my thigh through the jeans gaping hole. Stroking the exposed patch, I can all to easily imagine his fingers slipping beneath the fabric and discovering I didn’t bother with underwear. Except he doesn’t. Sitting back on his heels, Myles blinks those stunning amber eyes up at me, wide and transparent.

“I, Myles Hudson, pledge myself to you. I will not screw, indulge or flirt with anyone except you, Fiery.” My hand drifts from Myles’ hair to his shoulder, anchoring myself for stability. On the outside, I force a skeptical expression. Inside is a completely different story.

“And if I don’t want you?” Myles produces the cockiest, lopsided smile, pushing himself to his feet.

“Oh you want me. As soon as you stop lying to yourself, I’ll be ready.” Cupping my cheek, he restarts the elevator without taking his eyes from me. The doors ping open while we’re still searching each other’s gazes for answers.

“Um, should I come back?” a voice slices between us. Pulling away, I rush to hide how breathless I am, greeting the woman on the balcony. “Felicia Steele,” she shakes my hand. “Please, this way to my office.” Keeping my back to Myles, I leave all thoughts of his proclamation behind in the elevator. Now’s not the time to question if my first impression of him was wrong, not when I have a promise to keep first. But my mind can’t let it go so easily. Following Felicia into her office, I stop in the doorway, the most pointless thought giving me pause.

“Wait, during the rape trials, weren’t you like seventeen?” Myles only chuckles, crowding me onto the office and closing the door. I take a high-backed leather seat before an impressive desk, assessing the décor. Whereas the rest of the building is open and airy, Felicia has opted for deep mahogany’s, rich woods and leather. Heavy blinds block out the sunlight, reinforcing the need for two tall lamps with stained glass shades. All that’s missing is a pair of antlers mounted beside the mounted portrait of a greyhound in a suit with a top hat and monocle.

“Myles tells me you need some assistance in acquiring some answers.” Felicia sits across the desk. She’s an interesting character, her face soft within a curtain of blonde hair and eyes which are neither blue nor green. Within her blouse, she is equally as muscled as endowed by good genes, leaving me at a loss of where to look. I lift her name plaque, reading the title beneath her gold imprinted name.Senior Partner. So much for bringing me to a private investigator. “I take client confidentiality extremely seriously,” Felicia adds, sensing my hesitation to disclose anything to her.

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