The Gilded Chain E-Book

Lauren Smith

• Herausgeber: Lauren Smith
• Serie: The Surrender Series
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 526

Beschreibung

He’s the big bad wolf in a bespoke suit…

There’s nothing Wes Thorne can’t have, no woman he can’t possess with a single crook of his finger, except for a sweet, innocent cowgirl from Colorado. When he first meets Callie, Wes knows his days of womanizing are over, she’s the one for him, but there’s just one problem. She’s in love with his childhood friend who just happens to be engaged to Wes’s little sister. What’s a man to do, but offer Callie her dreams of becoming an artist? He sweeps her away to Paris to seduce her and let her explore her artistic talents. He vows to make her forget all about her broken heart by showing her how wicked she can be with him. But when a dangerous art thief sets his sights on her, Wes won’t hesitate to protect the woman who holds his heart.

She’s wanted nothing more in her life than to be an artist…

Callie Taylor is a small-town girl but she has big dreams…and dark hungers. She’s never felt like she truly fit in with the cozy little community she was born into. When an intimidating, yet utterly gorgeous man shows up on her doorstep promising her everything she’s always wanted, she knows it’s too good to be true. The way he’s looking at her, like a wolf stalking little red riding hood, she starts to wonder if maybe she wants to be caught, seduced, and captivated by him. Wes is like no one she’s ever known. He’s brooding, intense, and yet there’s a softness inside him, a need to be loved, and it makes him irresistible. Surely one trip to Paris won’t hurt?

Leseprobe

The Gilded Chain

Surrender Series

Book Three

Lauren Smith

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

The Darkest Hour

About the Author

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Lauren Smith

Cover design by Angela Haddon

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

ISBN 978-1-958196-95-3 (ebook edition)

ISBN 978-1-958196-96-0 (print on demand edition)

One

Someday after we have mastered the air, the winds, the tides and gravity, we will harness for god the energies of love. And then for the second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire.

—Teilhard de Chardin

“You are cordially invited to the engagement party of Hayden Thorne and Fenn Lockwood—”

With a pained gasp, Callie Taylor ripped the expensive cream card and blinked hard against the thick tears that started to drip down her cheeks. Fenn, the man she’d loved her entire life, was getting married to her friend Hayden. It was too much to process over the sudden and shattering pain inside her chest. With a little ragged gasp of breath, she glanced about her small bedroom, her last refuge on the wide open expanse of her father’s land. The only place she could really call her own on Broken Spur ranch.

Her room was covered with painting canvases, sketchbooks, and palettes with half-dried paint smears. For years she’d painted her dreams, and those dreams had always included Fenn. But a month ago her entire world in the little Colorado town of Walnut Springs had been flung on its head when Fenn’s real identity was discovered. He was the long-lost twin to Emery Lockwood, heir to the vast technology-based fortune, who lived on Long Island. Once Fenn had learned who he really was, Callie had known she would lose him forever, but standing there holding his engagement announcement in her hand was the first time she’d had cold hard proof of that fact.

The moment Wes Thorne, Fenn’s childhood friend and Hayden’s brother, had placed the engagement announcement card in her hands, her dream was dead. The man she was in love with was going to marry someone else. And not just anyone, but Hayden Thorne. When she’d first met Hayden, she’d instantly liked the other woman as a friend. A pang of envy rippled through her, casting a green tint to her heart.

I’m happy for them…but…

Disgust came after, weighing her chest down like invisible stones. She shouldn’t be jealous of Hayden, not when she cared so much about her friend. But the thought of watching her get married to Fenn? She couldn’t think. It was too awful…She let the torn pieces drop from her hands and float slowly to the floor of her bedroom. Little fingerprint smudges coated the pieces of the card where her paint-covered hands had rubbed on the expensive paper as she’d ripped it to shreds. Those vibrant colored pieces lay at her feet in a mocking collage that only made fresh tears burn in the corners of her eyes.

Footsteps on the stairs drew her attention. Had her father come up to check on her or was it Wes? When Wes had shown up at the Broken Spur a few minutes ago with a letter from Fenn, Callie hadn’t been able to help herself. Having no idea of the damning information the letter contained, she’d gone straight to her room to read it. Too excited to have one scrap of affection from Fenn or any sign that he might be missing her while he spent time on Long Island with his family, she’d blown right past her father and Wes as if they’d ceased to exist.

God, I’m such a fool. How could she have been so blind as to not see that while Fenn was learning who he really was, he was also falling in love with Hayden? God, they even looked good together, both of them beautiful and perfect: Fenn with height and muscled build and gold hair, Hayden with her bold red locks and stunning body. A wave of nausea rolled through her stomach. I’m just the sad little hanger-on sister to him. I never even had a chance. She’d opened her heart to him, given him everything that she was, and never held back. And what had that gotten her? A broken heart. And it was entirely her own fault.

Whoever had come up the stairs now knocked on her bedroom door. Pull yourself together, she told herself and using the back of her hands, she wiped away any evidence of her tears.

“Who is it?” she called out, desperate to hide the way she was crumbling to pieces.

Her dad couldn’t see her like this. He’d only just gotten home from the hospital after his heart attack a month ago, and seeing her hurting wouldn’t do him any good. He was supposed to be resting, letting the new ranch hands and construction workers handle all the heavy lifting and major work. Not that Jim Taylor ever understood the idea of resting.

“Callie, it’s me, Wes.” Wes Thorne’s voice was soft on the other side of the door, as though he was trying to be nice. He wasn’t nice. He was a wolf, a predator. She’d figured that out the moment she had first laid eyes on him when he and his sister, Hayden, had shown up at the ranch to tell Fenn who he really was and to take him home, away from her. Wes was the last person she wanted to see right now.

“Go away,” she called out. When there was no sound of retreating footsteps, she crept over to her bedroom door and opened it just a crack. She came face to face with an expensive suit shirt and an immaculately tied silk tie. The man always looked like he’d walked out of a Vanity Fair magazine ad. Raising her gaze up his chest, she saw his throat, then his full lips, and finally his cobalt blue eyes.

Wes, the harbinger of her own personal doom, stood there, worry knitting his brows as he gazed down at her.

“Are you all right? I thought I heard…” He studied her, probably seeing her red eyes. The last thing she needed was his pity.

“I’m sorry.” She shoved past him, escaping her bedroom and his assessing gaze as she ran down the stairs, tears almost blinding her vision. She had to get out of here, get away from him, from her father. She wanted to find a quiet dark place and curl up in a ball to lick her wounds, not handle twenty questions from men who didn’t have a clue what she was going through. Have to be alone. Have to.

She hit the bottom of the stairs and passed through the living room just as her father appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Callie, honey, you okay, sweetheart? You look like you’ve been crying.” Jim started toward her, but she held up a hand.

“I’m fine, Dad. I just need to go for a ride, okay? I’ll be back in a few hours.” And without another word to him, she rushed out onto the small porch of their ranch house.

Even as the fresh Colorado mountain air hit her lungs, it wasn’t enough. She still couldn’t breathe…She needed space, distance, to clear her head. She hoped both Wes and her father would leave her alone. Wes would hopefully focus on what he always did. Business. If he stayed close to the new cabins being constructed she could avoid him.

Something about him unnerved her. He was so damn quiet and intense. She didn’t like that intensity. It made her pulse beat faster and her palms sweaty. Not like Fenn. Fenn was safe, didn’t make her edgy or her breath quicken with a queasy anticipation. It was too confusing. Wes made her feel like a skittish barn cat.

Shoving thoughts of him away, she sprinted to the barn where her quarter horse, Volt, was in his stall, happily munching on oats. This is what she needed. To get outside and ride away from everything that left her hurt and confused. Volt was fast and he’d help her escape. Ever since she’d been a child, riding had been her outlet, a way to get free of everything. It was her father’s fault really. When her mother had died, Callie had been only four, and her father had bought her a small pony to give her something to care for and to learn to ride. From then on, riding had been her go-to cure for a broken heart.

Callie threw a bridle over Volt’s head and then put a blanket and saddle on him. Volt huffed and bumped his nose affectionately against her shoulder as she cinched the girth strap and then led him from his stall. She didn’t even wait to get out of the barn before she mounted up.

Once she was astride the horse, she kicked his sides, clicking her tongue, and Volt jolted forward. She broke him into a canter to warm him up. He didn’t need much to get into the rhythm. Another swift kick and he was shooting across the back field, straight toward the mountains. The wind lashed her hair in stinging slaps across her face, but the pain felt good. It was a pain she’d rather focus on instead of the searing agony in her chest.

Volt seemed to sense her need to flee, and he ran like wild lightning from a summer storm. Ahead of them, the wooded mountains were carved with trails of bright green grass. Callie urged Volt to gallop parallel to the grove of Aspen trees that bordered the farthest edge of her family’s property. The white trunks looked like slender ghosts weaving through the dappled sunlight. The brilliant gold leaves reminded her of the cadmium paint color she’d been mixing on her palette this morning. This morning. So much had changed since then.

A few hours ago she had been experimenting with acrylic paints, dabbling really, since she had no clue how to use that particular medium. A half-painted canvas, one depicting the Aspen leaves falling, was supposed to be a gift for Fenn Lockwood, to remind him of the home he’d had at Broken Spur. And even though he now had a new life on Long Island, Broken Spur would always be a part of him. At least, that’s what she’d hoped as she lost herself in creating the painting. It had been twenty-five years since Fenn had come to Walnut Springs. Twenty-five years since Jim and Maggie had taken Fenn in as a surrogate son. An entire quarter of a century where Fenn had been unaware of the family looking for him thousands of miles away. Roots like that didn’t just disappear, did they? Even if she couldn’t be Fenn’s future, she was certainly a part of his past and she clung to that thought like a lifeline.

Everything about Fenn had been perfect. Tall, muscled, blond-haired, and hazel-eyed, he’d been her dream in Wranglers and a fitted plaid shirt, like a god born to rule the wild lands from centuries ago before man trespassed here. A strong, quiet, intense man who cared for everyone around him with such a depth of emotion that it scared her sometimes. But she couldn’t stay away.

She had followed him wherever he went, to every bull-riding competition he participated in, and he’d even been her date to her senior prom since she’d been eighteen and allowed to bring an older date. All of her friends had been so jealous, but that night, she’d hoped more than anything he’d kiss her. He hadn’t, except for a brotherly kiss on the cheek before sending her upstairs to bed. Never once had she dared to tell him how she loved him, but she’d shown him in every breath, every look, every action she could. And it hadn’t been enough to even turn his head. Would it have mattered if she’d told him how she felt? No. It wouldn’t. Because he looks at Hayden in a way he’s never looked at me. Some truths hurt. Bad. Bad enough that she suddenly had trouble breathing again past the burst of a sob.

And now he was getting married. To Hayden.

Tears dripped down her face. She wasn’t even sure if it was the wind or from her broken heart. Tugging on the reins, she slowed Volt down. He dropped back into a canter and then to a walk.

“Easy boy,” she crooned and patted his muscular neck. “You always want to push too hard for too long.” It was something she sometimes felt inside herself. A wild need to push herself beyond her own limits until she broke free.

Volt tossed his head, his black mane flaring in a ripple over his skin as though to protest her words but kept their leisurely pace as they moved along the line of Aspen trees, his hooves churning the blanket of vivid yellow leaves. They were a few months away from heavy snow, but there was no mistaking the distant aroma of winter. Something about that scent calmed her. Snow buried. Snow covered. It hid away things that needed to be erased or at least temporarily forgotten.

Could she forget her broken heart if it lay beneath an early snowfall? Perhaps, but it didn’t erase the fact that she would have to go to the engagement party. See them smiling, together, posing for pictures, holding each other close. Things she’d never get to do with Fenn.

The winding gold trail that Volt climbed soon led to a small hill where large gray rocks littered the slope. She tugged back on his reins, and he halted. Callie slid off his back and led him to a copse of trees. After looping his reins around a sturdy low branch of a nearby tree, she walked over to the outcropping of rocks and climbed up a particularly thick, waist-high rock half covered in pale wintergreen moss. She let one leg dangle down the front of the rock while she tucked her other leg up and rested her chin on her knee.

Clouds swept across the skies, their shadows playing a game of chase upon the rolling hills and tree-strewn valleys below. Her father had shown her this spot after her mother had died. The two of them had been lost without her. Nature had become the mother she’d lost. Her father had taught her that a person could find peace here, under the brilliant skies and in the changing winds.

A few stray tears escaped her eyes, but she didn’t wipe them away. There was no one here to witness her breaking apart in a thousand pieces, just the wind, skies, and mountains, and they’d hold her secret heartache for as long as she needed them to.

She knew she was a fool to think that Fenn could ever return her feelings, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself from hoping. But now it was certain; there would be no Cinderella moment for her, no grand transformation. Just life on the ranch and perhaps a job in the town, if she didn’t need to work with her father.

What I need to do is find a way to move on. Learn to live without him.

A flood of memories engulfed her, the way Fenn used to hug her and ruffle a hand through her hair, the way he’d carried her up to bed when she’d been ten years old after she’d fallen asleep on the couch. How his natural scent would cling to his coats and she’d used to wear them when he wasn’t around, just to feel close to him.

Such a fool…to love so much and lose so much.

She couldn’t let this happen again. No more falling in love. No more exposing her soul in hopes someone would see her for who she was. There could be no half measures here—she couldn’t stand this kind of pain again.

I’m done with men, done with love, done with all of that romantic nonsense. It’s not worth the pain. Callie was never going to let her heart dupe her into falling for a man ever again.

Her composure back in place, Callie rubbed her palms on her jeans and then slid off the boulder. She walked back to Volt, who was waiting patiently for her. She unwound the reins from the branch.

“Time to go back.” She didn’t want to, but she was a big girl and had to face this, even if it killed her piece by piece.

* * *

Wes Thorne stood on the porch of one of the brand-new, nearly completed luxury cabins that was being constructed on the backside of the Broken Spur ranch lands facing the mountains. The wood of the porch railing was slightly rough but would be smoothed out with a sander soon. The oak was solid and firm and a rich color of brown that was pleasing to the eye. These cabins would be incredibly lucrative for Jim and Callie.

The scheme had been his sister Hayden’s idea when she realized Jim was in danger of losing the ranch because they’d defaulted on their high mortgage payments. Hayden had suggested to Wes that they build cabins on the property and use them as a destination for high-stress workaholics who needed a vacation from 24/7 e-mail and super-powered cell service. It was brilliant of course, but he wasn’t surprised. Hayden was a better businesswoman than he was a businessman when it came down to it. He loved art more than business, but he thankfully had a great amount of success in his own business as an art expert.

While his sister was preoccupied with her wedding plans, he’d agreed to come out and check the progress of the cabins. He’d known telling Callie about Fenn and Hayden’s engagement wasn’t going to end well. From the moment he’d met the wild, free-spirited Callie, he’d known she was in love with Fenn. Her heart was pinned on her sleeve for the world to see, and he’d hated having to be the person to deliver the news that would cut her sweet, innocent little heart to shreds.

She’d taken it worse than he’d expected. He’d gone up to check on her, and when she’d answered her door her eyes were red and her cheeks were still stained with shiny tears. There was a wildness to her anguish that was breathtakingly gorgeous and something in him had rumbled, like a deep quake beneath the earth. Her pain had unsettled him, and few things ever unsettled him. So he’d decided to stay a few days to make sure she was going to be all right. Of course, if anyone asked, he was only staying to check on the cabins. That was his story and he was sticking to it. He shook his head. He couldn’t leave her when she…Wes stopped himself. She didn’t need him. Hell, he doubted she even liked him. She was always running off, hiding, avoiding eye contact as though she was nervous around him.

None of that changed the fact that he wanted her. For the last several weeks he’d been caught up in fantasies of having her in his bed, wrists and legs bound, body completely bare and ready for him to explore every inch of her with his mouth and hands as he introduced her to his darker world of pleasure. The things he wanted to do…craved to do to her were driving him slowly mad.

He’d never lusted after a woman like he did Callie and he couldn’t figure out why that was. She was young, innocent, not his usual type. So why then did his hands twitch with the urge to touch her whenever she was close, and the hint of her scent after she’d freshly showered and walked past his room seemed to carve itself into his bones? While he’d been away from her, he’d attempted to convince himself it was a silly obsession. When he bolted up in the middle of the night in his empty bed and he was hard and frustrated because she wasn’t there beside him he’d told himself it was nothing but an itch he needed to scratch to get out of his system. But now that he was here with her, so close that he could see all those unhidden emotions on her face, especially the pain he’d caused by coming here...leaving was impossible. And the itch…it wasn’t temporary.

He was going to have her. It was only a matter of time. He’d vowed the moment he set eyes on her that she was going to be his. He needed to tame her, to bring her into his world. It would take a long, slow seduction, but Callie would be his. She had to be. Her innocence mixed with her natural sensuality was about to kill him. If he could just get her to forget about Fenn and show her all the wicked pleasures life could bring, then he’d have her, body and soul.

As he stepped off the porch, dusting his hands over his jeans, he saw Callie leave the ranch house and walk toward the barn. Her steps were firm, her face held high, and she had a look of determination on her features. Whatever heartbreak she was suffering, she’d masked it and taken a firm hold of herself.

That’s my girl. The thought slipped out before he could take it back. She wasn’t his. But she would be. Soon. With a low chuckle, he continued to linger near the cabins and waved to some contractors who had just arrived, but he kept a watchful eye on the barn. They would talk, soon, and he’d set in motion his plans to have her.

* * *

Callie couldn’t help but watch Wes as he worked with the contractors. She fed the chickens in the coops, worked with a new foal that had been born a few weeks ago, and checked on the cattle feeding and water troughs over several hours and all of those tasks kept her in plain sight of Wes.

He wasn’t in that suit he usually wore, the one that made him look expensive and mysterious. No, he was in jeans, a t-shirt, and boots and…Her mouth ran dry as she realized that rather than make him look more normal, more approachable, the casual attire gave him a dangerous edge that seemed to say, I’m not afraid of getting down and dirty and taking you with me, sweetheart. The thought made her blush. That was ridiculous. He was just another handsome man in jeans, one she was currently avoiding. That was the whole point of swearing off men, which she definitely had. No sexy, rugged, dangerous men for her. She’d locked her heart in a steel box and sealed it shut forever. There wasn’t going to be any man getting through to it so he could smash it. Not ever again.

Despite her promise though, she couldn’t keep her eyes off Wes. It had to be harmless just to watch him, right? Lust and love were two totally different things after all…Weren’t they?

She watched him crouch by the porch of one of the cabins, a pair of contractors with him, gesturing at something. Even from where she stood, she could see the flex of the muscles on his forearm and the glint of his expensive watch on his wrist. She licked her dry lips and glanced away, only to find herself turning back his way. The light breeze carried just enough of their conversation that she realized they were discussing the wood trimming against the stone base of the cabins. Of course, Wes seemed to know all about the subject. Was there a subject Wes Thorne wasn’t an expert on? His seemingly limitless knowledge was wildly intimidating under the best circumstances, but after he’d seen her meltdown yesterday, well, Callie wasn’t challenging him to Trivial Pursuit anytime soon.

Callie hadn’t been able to afford college. And if she could have, there was no way she would have been able to leave her father, not when he was shorthanded and the ranch was in jeopardy. Now here she was at age twenty, stuck in the same town she’d lived her whole life.

Half of her loved ranch life, but the other half of her wanted to get out into the world, test her limits, and live her life.

Wes suddenly stood and shook hands with the two men he’d been speaking with and then walked away, out of her sight. It was just as well. She really needed to get back to work. With a little sigh, she turned around to go back into the barn and smacked right into a solid, warm male chest.

“Oomph!” She made an unlady-like sound as their bodies collided and she stumbled back.

Firm hands gripped her waist. “What were you doing? Hiding behind this truck?” His tone was full of dark amusement, as though he was fully aware she’d been spying on him.

She sniffed, raised her chin, and tried to dislodge his hands from her waist. He allowed it, and she was fully aware of that fact more than anything else.

“I was checking on the hay.” I was not watching you in those snug jeans.

“Mmm.” He made a little throaty noise as though he were agreeing with her, but she heard the disbelief in the sound.

“If you’ll excuse me, I still have chores to take care of in the barn.” She stalked around him and headed straight for the open doors of her sanctuary. He wouldn’t come after her. He had things to take care of too. This would be over soon. She’d go back to being alone, left in peace and free of strangely intense men. Thank heavens for that, she thought.

Heading straight for Volt’s stall she decided to give him a quick brushing; that would make her look and feel busy. She slid the stall door open on its sliding rails and grabbed her brush bucket. Then she settled in for a good combing. Volt didn’t pay much attention to her as he buried his nose in his oat bucket, munching loudly.

The sound of footsteps behind her had her spinning. Wes stood in the open stall doorway, watching her.

“Are you all right?”

She barely contained a bitter laugh. “All right? Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him drift a step closer, and she heard the soft shuffle of his boots on the hay-strewn floor. Wes was too intense for the quiet life on a ranch.

“Here, let me.” Suddenly he was right behind her, the heat of his body searing her skin through the thin layer of her jeans and shirt. His right hand settled over hers gently, grasping the brush and sliding it off her palm. Her hands settled on Volt’s coat as Wes kept her caged while he continued to brush the horse. She watched the way his hand moved the brush swiftly over the horse’s flanks. Did he know much about horses?

Funny, she hadn’t thought to ask. When she’d last been around him, he’d seemed more a dark shadow, a presence just out of sight while she’d been focused on Fenn and the threat on his life. Now, though, she had to admit she was curious, even if he scared her a little. He patted the horse’s back and then turned to her, handing her the brush.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” she finally said, peering over her shoulder at his face.

Observing his profile, she noticed the twist of his sensual lips in a bare hint of a smile.

“I own six of them. I should hope I know what I’m doing.” His words lit a strange fire deep within her belly, and she knew she’d bump into him if she leaned back even an inch.

Callie took the brush from him and set it in the grooming kit outside Volt’s stall. She dusted her hands off on her jeans as she waited for Wes to leave the stall.

“You really have horses? Why didn’t you say anything before?” She could have made him muck out the stalls…the image of him, hay fork in his hands, shoveling manure made her bite back a little smile.

He actually laughed. The rich sound of it did funny things to her stomach. It quivered and a slow wave of heat moved across her face.

“You seem surprised,” he noted as he closed the stall door and then latched it.

Callie retreated a few steps, the barn suddenly feeling much warmer than it had a minute ago.

“Well, you never said anything before about horses. And you don’t look like you do a lot of riding.” She swept her gaze down his black t-shirt, which did nothing to disguise the lean cut muscles of the abs beneath it. You’re not checking him out, Callie. Stop it, she warned herself. She dragged her eyes upward and noticed his powerful forearms and she couldn’t forget that the feel of his hands on her skin always seemed to burn her in those brief times he’d touched her. Oh yes, Wes Thorne unsettled her, and she didn’t like it. If she kept getting swept away by how attractive his abs and arms were there was no way she was going to be able to keep her vow. She had to get out of there and fast. She grabbed the saddle and headed for the tack room, hoping he would take the hint and not follow her.

That silent prayer went unheard because he filled the space of the tack room doorway, as though to stop her from escaping him again. She focused on putting her saddle away.

“You and I haven’t talked much, and certainly not about horses. I’d be happy to talk now…about horses. I play polo. A man has to be very good on a horse.” He paused and that caught her attention. When her eyes met his, he continued. “I enjoy riding, and not just the horses.”

For a second, she had no clue what he meant. Riding…Then it hit her and she flushed with mortification. He was implying that—oh!

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Thorne, but I’m not up to being ridden today, or ever. I’m not interested, period.”

Rather than anger him enough to send him away, he sidled closer.

“No, you’re not up to it, not yet.”

Turning to face him, she shot him the fiercest look she could manage. “I don’t think you get it. I want to be left alone. No more men, no more romance, no more anything…” Suddenly her words came out a little choked, as though she couldn’t breathe. Here she was confessing her heartache to him, the last man on earth who’d understand what she was going through. His sister had told Callie all about Wes. The women he dated, how he never fell for anyone. He was nothing like Fenn. Wes wasn’t a man for loving, but for lusting, and she didn’t want to be around that either.

Wes tilted his left wrist to study the face of his expensive watch checking the time.

“That sounds a bit like a challenge to me. Do you want to challenge me?” It wasn’t a threat, no, but something about the way he said the world “challenge” made her insides squirm.

“Challenge? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wes’s lips twitched. “So you’ve decided you won’t fall in love? Is that it? No more men for you because one man broke your heart?”

Rather than answer him, she just swallowed hard and drew in a much needed breath.

“A friendly little wager wouldn’t put you at any risk then, would it? What if I said that in thirty days I could change your mind? Make you want a man again, not just any man, but me.”

Callie focused on the doorway, debating if she could escape him, but it didn’t seem likely. What if she just let him play his little game? It wouldn’t hurt her; he couldn’t get to her.

I’m safe. He won’t get to my heart. She was sure of that. Sure enough that she finally met his gaze and nodded.

“You think you can seduce me in thirty days? Fine. You’re on. Good luck with that, Mr. Thorne.”

“Thank you, but I’ve never needed luck.” When she started to dart around him, he stayed her with an outstretched arm. “Now, just a minute, we’ve terms to discuss. If I lose I’ll have one of my connections at art school on Long Island write you a recommendation for entry to their program.”

“Art school?” How could he offer that? She wouldn’t ever be able to afford that.

“Yes, they have a scholarship program you’d qualify for and my friend’s recommendation would seal your acceptance.”

Callie let all of that sink in. If she resisted the temptation to sleep with him, he’d help her get into art school? The one thing she wanted more than anything? There had to be a catch.

“And if you win?” She couldn’t quite say the words “if I lost.”

“If I win you’ll get passion beyond your wildest dreams. I know how to please a woman, Callie. Every trick, every toy, every little fantasy you’ve ever had, they can all be yours. I can promise that while we’re together your life will never be the same. Anything you want, I can give it to you. Anything.” He was so confident, so bold, she almost believed him.

But there was one thing he couldn’t give her and thankfully it was the one thing she never wanted to experience again. Love.

“That doesn’t sound like a hard bet to win,” she replied. Why she felt the need to taunt him, she wasn’t sure.

He chuckled, not at all upset. “If you think this will be so easy a challenge to win, you won’t refuse anything I suggest?”

Suggest? Just what did he think he could suggest? “What do you mean?”

“I’ve got to make a trip to Paris in the next week and I think it’s only fair to take you with me. I’ve seen your artwork. I know you’d enjoy taking in the museums and the sights. It’s the perfect place for an artist to visit.”

Paris…What he offered her, the world she’d always dreamed of, as though it were an easy thing to give her…it was impossible. She could never afford that trip.

A shameful heat filled her cheeks and she ducked her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t afford to—”

With a low growl he forced her chin up so she had to look him in the eyes again. “I may not be a man with honorable intentions toward you, but if nothing else, I’m still a gentleman. The trip and anything on it will be at my expense. All you need do is join me.”

“A free trip to Paris?” She couldn’t help but look this handsome gift horse in the mouth. He answered with a nod.

Paris. How could she refuse? He’d chosen the one place in the entire world she couldn’t say no to.

“All I have to do is go with you?” Her heart was beating so fast that she had to force herself to calm down.

“Yes, come with me. Give me my thirty days to court you as you deserve.” He sounded so solemn, so serious about a silly wager, but the heat simmering in his eyes was full of promise and it scared her a little.

He won’t get in, she promised. He won’t. I’m safe.

“Okay. I’ll go with you.” The words came out and she felt as though she were living in a strange sort of dream. She was going to Paris with Wes Thorne. Was this all really happening?

“Good. I can stay with you, help you with Volt if you like.” He didn’t move away from her when she tried to get past him again.

Callie needed to get away from him. Just because she’d agreed to go to Paris with him didn’t mean she wanted him to follow her around all day. She wanted to be left alone, left in peace. Not being intimidated by a man who was the personification of sin when she’d just sworn yesterday to avoid men like him. This bet was likely just a way for him to amuse himself. He had to be playing with her. Nothing more. There was no way a man like him would have any interest in her, and she didn’t want him to. Wes would want a tall, polished model, a thin society beauty, not a short, curvy girl in jeans with calloused hands. It just didn’t make any sense for him to be interested in her. He had to be really bored out here if he was paying attention to her. I must be the only female for miles if he’s paying attention to me. It was a depressing thought.

“I’m sorry. I’m not in the best mood. You should probably just go.” Please go away, she prayed. If she had to ask again, she feared her plan to avoid men like him wouldn’t last. She’d be a sucker all over again and throw her heart into something only to get hurt. No more Ms. Nice Guy. I have to protect myself, don’t I?

The intense wolfish gleam in his eyes softened and he inched toward her. Before she could move, he trapped her against one of the posts bearing an old saddle she’d been oiling earlier that day. The thick scent of the hay, the tang of the oil, and the exhale of Wes’s breath consumed her, shrinking her universe into this one infinite yet enclosed span of time. He rested one hand on the saddle by her waist, so close, but not quite touching her hip. His other hand curled under her chin and gently lifted it up so she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. His gentle but firm touch made that newly built brick wall around her heart quake.

No, I can’t let him get inside my head. She had to control her emotions and her response to him.

“Shed your tears for him, Callie. You are allowed that much,” he whispered. His warm breath fanned across her lips as his face inched closer to hers.

“Allowed?” She bristled and flattened her hands on his chest, pushing hard. He didn’t budge.

“Yes.” He smiled, almost coldly. “You’re allowed to cry when your heart is broken, but just know that when you’re ready the entire world awaits you.”

Wes cupped her cheek, closed the distance between them, and pressed his lips to hers. It was no chaste kiss. His tongue slid inside, stroking hers, and she jolted against him. He assaulted her senses, his hands suddenly everywhere, sliding slowly over her back, tracing her hips, caressing the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck. Her blood thundered in her ears, like the resounding beats of a mustang’s hooves upon the fields on the other side of the mountains.

His teeth sank into her bottom lip, the little sting making her gasp in shock and a traitorous zing of awareness and pleasure rippled through her. He coaxed, teased, and played with her mouth and seemed to be memorizing her body with the way his palms shaped her curves and slopes. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She had to stop this. She needed to …When she started to tremble he suddenly stepped back and rested his forehead against hers, their shared breaths an equal measure of soft pants.

“You aren’t ready. Not yet.” He brushed a lock of her hair back from her face and tucked it behind one of her ears. The gesture was intimate and tender. She trembled.

“Ready for what?” she demanded, but her tone was breathless.

“For me. But you will be. I have thirty days to prove it to you. Unfortunately I have to return to Weston for a few days but I’ll come back and pick you up.” He withdrew from her personal space, gazing for one minute longer at her before he strode out of the tack room and away from her.

Callie lifted her fingertips to her lips, her hand shaking. What had she done? Wes had kissed her. Kissed her. Her first kiss. It was not the way she had planned it, and it was not from the man she wanted, the man she loved. Her heart shuddered in her chest. It felt as if she had betrayed Fenn, but she hadn’t. A person couldn’t betray someone they had never been in a relationship with. That was the biting reality she had to accept. She may have loved Fenn, but he didn’t love her back, not romantically. She would only ever be a little sister to him. And that had shattered her heart into a thousand pieces. What would being around Wes do to her if she couldn’t stay cold and unmoved by his passion?

What am I going to do?

The phantom press of his lips still lingered against her own, as though he’d branded her with that single sensual kiss. She hated herself for the way her body had melted into his, and the crawling need just beneath her skin that craved his touch, his caress. But she didn’t want it, didn’t want him. And she shouldn’t.

Wes Thorne was dangerous. Frighteningly intense and too much of everything. There was still that unspoken word humming in the air around her. He’d never said it, but she’d felt it in his kiss.

Soon. It was only after she’d started back to the house that she realized if she went to Paris with Wes, she might miss Fenn and Hayden’s engagement party. Had he done that on purpose? Given her a distraction to keep her from facing something that would grind her heart to dust? Maybe Wes wasn’t so heartless after all…or he was cunning beyond her wildest dreams.

Two

The Gulfstream G150 slid into the air, climbing high into the late afternoon sky. The clouds above the Colorado mountains were thick and painted in a range of tangerine and pomegranate reds. Wes leaned back into the soft white leather seat of his family’s private jet and watched the wings of the plane slice through the heavens.

He could still taste Callie, addictive, sweet, so breathless and innocent. Until he’d sat down in the plane, his entire body had been rigid with pent-up passion. He shouldn’t have kissed her, not so soon, not when he’d have to leave for a few days before seeing her again.

Fuck, he wanted her. It actually hurt not to have her near him. Had that ever happened to him before? Not that he was aware of. He dropped his head back against the headrest and tried to collect his thoughts. He only had to last a month without getting what he wanted right away.

Thirty days.

Thirty days was enough time to seduce her and make her forget Fenn. Her father had assured him she had an up-to-date passport. She would need a new wardrobe and so many other things. He would fill her days with adventure, passion, and art. He would offer her the world, and in return, he’d take her to bed and finally conquer this strange obsession with her.

He touched his lips yet again, having done it several times on the drive back to the airport. Kissing her had made him feel again. For too long he had not felt much of anything. He had gone to great lengths just to regain even the smallest bit of pleasure in his life. Callie had changed everything.

One month ago he had flown out to Colorado to rescue his long-lost childhood friend Fenn Lockwood, only to find Fenn in bed with his sister. The initial meeting between them after twenty-five years of thinking Fenn was dead hadn’t gone well. He and Fenn had gotten into a fistfight over Hayden. They had been fighting in the dirt outside an old trailer, and Jim Taylor had driven up and fired a shotgun over their heads. And then Wes looked up and saw her.

Honey blonde hair tugged playfully by a mountain breeze to form a golden halo around a face so lovely he’d forgotten to breathe. She was not like any of the models on the runways in Milan or Paris. She was a head shorter than him, with killer curves and a classically beautiful face. A slightly upturned nose, gold lashes, hazel green eyes, and pale pink lips. Lips he’d finally tasted, and his imagination hadn’t been able to compare to reality. Yes, he had taken one look at Callie Taylor and knew that he would have to have her, possess her in every way because she had made him feel. His blood still hummed in his veins and his heart beat wildly at the thought of the chase, the seduction, and finally the months he planned to spend learning the secret ways of her body and soul so that she would be fully his.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, wondering who’d be calling. Corrine Vanderholt.

That was a problem he needed to deal with before he initiated Callie into his world. As one of the premier members of the exclusive BDSM club, the Gilded Cuff, one of the perks was the luxury of having almost any female submissive at his beck and call. Nearly all of the club members were outwardly polite society girls he chatted and danced with at fund-raisers and galas under the unsuspecting eyes of the crowds. But at the Gilded Cuff, these women stripped down to bare skin and knelt at his feet, begging to be dominated. He had always been happy to comply. Corrine, however, was not like the others. The rest knew that any relationship in the club ended outside the doors, and that was the way everyone liked it. For Corrine, the club was a stepping stone to marriage, and Wes knew she had set her sights on him. She was a fool to think she could control him. He was the dominant.

With a little smile, he answered his phone. “Thorne here.” Not acknowledging he’d seen her name on the screen.

“Wes, sweetheart, it’s me,” Corrine murmured huskily.

He almost rolled his eyes. “I have many sweethearts, which one in particular are you?”

He bit back a laugh at her angry little hiss through the other end of the phone.

“It’s Corrine.” Her tone was curt.

“Oh, Corrine, of course. What is it?” He settled back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the leather seat opposite him.

“I thought you might want to top me at the club tonight.” She was forcing that huskiness in her voice now, and he tried not to smile.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. I’m leaving for Paris in a few days and have to make travel arrangements.” The last thing he wanted to do was top Corrine. That meant being her dom and conducting a sexual scene with her. The only woman he wanted was Callie.

“When you get back then,” she insisted.

“No. I’m not going to be topping anyone at the club for awhile.”

“What?” Her voice was hard and cold. He’d ruined her plans.

“There are plenty of doms who will be happy to scene with you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go.” He didn’t wait for a response, but simply hung up. Pocketing the phone, he resumed his study of the clouds.

Everything in his life would be changing soon. It was one thing to conduct a simple scene with a submissive at a club, but training one and doing it at his home was an entirely different matter. Callie had innate submissive qualities in her, but she was not weak, nor easily tamed. It would be a complicated process of seducing her and introducing her to his world without frightening her. He wanted everything to be perfect, for himself, but also for her.

She deserved a sweet, slow seduction. He had already moved too fast, taken a risk with that kiss in the tack room. She wasn’t ready for him or his lifestyle. If he came at her too hard and fast, she’d bolt, just like an unbroken filly. Not that he wished to break her. No, never that, but Callie needed taming, and he planned to soothe her with little touches, tiny caresses, soft whispers, all the things a masterful lover knows how to employ. And he was the best. Out of all of the dominants at the club, he was the one who understood the art of BDSM the best. He could read a female submissive and know immediately what she needed and give it to her. It was the single most rewarding and arousing thing about being a dom, knowing he had the power to give a woman what she needed and satisfy her every desire and fantasy. It would be a lie to say he didn’t get off on the idea. He loved wielding such a power, knowing he could bring such pleasure to a woman.

Callie was young and innocent, and as much as his body wanted to rush headlong into bed with her, the rest of him sensed slow was the best pace. She’d had her heart broken and that would take time to heal. He would coax the woman out of her chrysalis and glimpse the transformation at its own natural pace.

When his phone buzzed again, he answered in a low growl of displeasure.

“What is it, Corrine?”

A masculine chuckle made him blink and stare at the phone screen.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not Corrine,” Royce Devereaux said.

“Royce, what is it?” Wes snapped.

Royce was one of his close friends from childhood, a dominant at the Gilded Cuff as well and a paleontology professor at a local university in Weston, Long Island.

“Guess you haven’t heard the news?”

Wes sat up in his seat. “What is it? Has something happened to the twins? My sister?” His blood started to pound in his ears as old fears resurfaced.

“No—God no. Everyone is fine. Christ, Wes, you’ve only been gone a few days. What do you think could have happened in seventy-two hours?” Royce asked with a low chuckle.

Wes exhaled in obvious relief. After everything they’d been through recently, he needed rest, relaxation. No more assassins, explosions, or villains.

“As long as no one is dead or dying, I don’t really care,” Wes said. “I’m on vacation from all drama and life-threatening incidences.”

His friend laughed. “Getting boring on me, are you?”

“You know I’m never that boring,” he reminded Royce. They’d spent too many nights at the Gilded Cuff together for Royce to ever say otherwise.

“I just thought you’d be interested to know that the Mortons were robbed last night.”

Wes didn’t see the significance of this. “And this is of interest to me because?”

Royce sighed dramatically. “It wasn’t a typical robbery. Only one thing was taken. A painting.”

He straightened in his seat. “A painting? Which one?”

He was intimately familiar with the Mortons’ private art collection. He had a hand in procuring most of the pieces in their collection. The Mortons were old money, like his own family, but unlike his parents, the Mortons valued art and it had been a pleasure to work with them.

“I think I heard it was a Goya,” Royce said.

The Goya? Wes growled softly. The most expensive piece, valued at $450,000 dollars. He’d done the bidding for the Mortons at Sotheby’s. And now it was gone. Something tightened in his chest, a sliver of pain, swiftly followed by fury.

“How was it taken? The Mortons have an advanced security system and their private collection was fairly unknown to the general public. It’s not easy to walk away with something like a painting.”

“Yeah, I know.” Royce paused. “It looks like a professional job. The FBI is checking into it. I told them to come see you if they had any questions about the painting.”

Wes scrubbed a hand over his jaw, scowling. The last thing he needed was the FBI crawling all over him, not when he wanted to focus completely on Callie. Feds were always a mood killer.

“What time are you due back on the island?” Royce asked.

Wes checked his watch. “About five hours, why?”

“We could go to the club. There’s a sweet little sub I would love to tag team—”

“No thanks.” Wes chuckled. “I’ve got to take care of a few things, and besides, I may not be coming to the club for awhile.”

“Oh?”

Wes couldn’t miss the interest in his friend’s tone.

“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate. Callie was his little secret. He didn’t want to share her with anyone else, especially not a charmer like Royce. There couldn’t be any risk that she would find another man more attractive than him.

Royce’s tone turned serious. “Does this have something to do with Callie Taylor?”

How did he know about Callie? Wes didn’t answer. He knew responding would reveal more. It was best to play the game as if he had no information.

“I was checking on Jim and his daughter for Fenn. He worries about them, since he and Hayden won’t be moving back to Colorado for a month or two, at least not until after the engagement party.”

“Checking, huh? Is that what the kids call it these days?” His friend sniggered. “I bet you checked on that sweet little cowgirl all night.”

“I spent all my time working on the cabins for Hayden. There was no night, Royce. Make a comment like that again and you’ll regret it,” he promised darkly.

“Admit it. You want that girl. I heard Hayden talking about her. She’s young and sweet. Everything your usual bed partners aren’t. Are you having a midlife crisis or something?”

Fuck. His friend just didn’t know when to shut the hell up.

“I’m thirty-three. A man does not have a midlife crisis until he is actually in the middle of his life,” he shot back.

“Uh-huh,” Royce answered, almost placating him. “Does your sister know you have a black room?”

“My sister does not know and will never know about that particular part of my house. The more important question is, how did you get inside it?” He and Royce had shared women at the club, even at Royce’s house, but the black room at Wes’s home…that was his secret, his private place no one was supposed to know about. A room containing his most treasured paintings and other things too valuable to share with the rest of the world. It also had a bed and a dresser with some rather fun sex toys, but he’d never met a woman yet who he’d trusted enough to show the room to. It was called the black room because it wasn’t on the floor plans of the mansion and unless someone knew where it was, it could never be found. Royce had seen him leaving it once, but hadn’t questioned him about it. Apparently the bastard had been biding his time until he could get in to check it out.

There was a faint clinking noise as though something metallic hit wood on the other end of the phone line.

“I knew you were out of town so Hans is showing me how to pick locks. Can you believe I didn’t know how to listen for tumblers? We’re using your place as practice, by the way.”

Wes muttered a few choice curse words under his breath.

“You and Emery Lockwood’s bodyguard are at my place picking my locks?” He knew it shouldn’t have surprised him.

Royce was wild and unpredictable at best, and this was by far one of his tamer pranks. What amused him, despite his anger at his black room being infiltrated, was that Royce was with Hans Brummer. The bodyguard was in his early fifties, and one of the most dangerous men Wes knew. Hans had spent the last twenty-five years protecting Emery Lockwood after he and his twin, Fenn, were kidnapped at age eight. Now that the men trying to kill the twins were dead, Hans must have been bored enough to freelance his talents and was apparently training Royce in all manner of illegal activities.

“You never know when picking a lock will come in handy,” Royce replied once the clicking noise returned.

“Why would a professor of paleontology need to know how to pick locks?” Wes asked as he slipped his Breitling watch off his wrist and then reset the time from mountain to eastern. He still had a few hours left in the flight, but he liked to get his watch set.

Royce snorted. “Well, let’s see. Emery and Fenn were kidnapped. Emery was almost blown to bits, Cody the hacker wonder boy was tortured by an assassin, Hans was shot in the chest, you were nearly incinerated in a car bomb. I’m just getting in some survival 101 with my old buddy Hans here.”

There was a deep laugh in the background, and Wes knew it was Hans.

“How did you bypass my security system?”

“Child’s play. We just rewired it.”

Wes sighed. That meant he’d have to have someone come out and fix it. “Don’t you have some term papers to grade?”

“That’s what my teacher’s assistant is for,” Royce announced proudly, and Wes could only shake his head. “Kenzie’s going to be busy over the next month reading everything and preparing the final exams I sent her.”

“I thought you butted heads with your TA.”

“Yeah, well, Kenzie is too smart for her own good. She’s lucky she’s my TA or I’d take her to the Cuff and strap her to a spanking bench and give it to her good.” Royce’s tone was suddenly husky, and Wes knew what the other man was thinking about.

“So why don’t you?” Wes taunted his friend.

“Oh no, there’s no way I’m getting involved with a student. I like my job.”

“But she’s over eighteen, right? She’s a graduate student. It’s legal.”

Royce growled softly. “Legal maybe, but it doesn’t look good if I go against school policy. I don’t want to be that professor. My students already know about my club habits, and the bouncers at the club have to check IDs carefully to make sure no one slips inside who isn’t a genuine member. I feel like a damn animal in a zoo sometimes.”

His friend paused, then added, “Maybe I need a black room too.”

“Get out of there right now, Royce,” he warned. That space was his, only his, and even his best friend was not allowed in there.

“Fine. Spoil our fun,” Royce returned. “Call me tomorrow morning. We need to visit the Mortons.”