The limousine sped through the city, the neon lights outside blurring into streaks of colour. Inside, time seemed to stand still as they explored each other with a fervour that bordered on desperation.
Elnora leaned into the kiss. His lips melted into hers, soft molten drops of fire sizzling with pleasure. Her hands wandered over him, slipping beneath his jacket to feel his rock-hard muscles through his white shirt. Moaning, she grabbed his jacket and reeled him closer, demanding more as her tongue touched his.
Mason’s hands roamed over her body, mapping out the curves and hollows with a possessiveness that surprised her. She buckled as they traced up her back, slipping into the mass of her voluminous hair.
Her hunger grew insatiable, and Elnora slipped her arms around his shoulders, feasting on his lips like a blood-hungry hound. Against the restraint of her body-con dress, she wiggled in an unsuccessful attempt to straddle him. At least that would help to keep her in line.
The limo screeched to a stop, forcing them away from each other. Mason pulled back with a reluctant scowl, then leaned back into the chair, pushing the intercom.
“Hector?” he growled.
“Mr. Dimitri, there’s a situation at the gate,” the chauffeur stuttered.
With a deep breath, Elnora raked her fingers through her hair, then pressed them against her lips, trying to steady the whirlwind of thoughts. “I’ll be right there.” Mason glanced her way, and her cheeks burned when their eyes met. He stepped out of the vehicle, and she heaved a sigh.
Plopping against the rear of the chair, Elnora twirled her hair with a wide grin. Forbidden fruit, indeed, and she was desperate to gorge on him despite Marcy’s incessant voice of reason whispering in her ear.
Marcy, the unfathomable extrovert who had clung to her side since their first year of university. A boisterous socialite, she could never shake off. It served their company well; Marcy did the PR, while Elnora handled the grunt work of data mining, pen testing and web development.
As the limo continued on its way, Elnora leaned closer to peek out the window. Mason stood in the company of two men in front of a luxurious estate. Her mind raced, trying to recall what Marcy had told her Mason did for work. She rolled the window down and gaped at the mansion.
The limo rolled up to a grand entrance, complete with a fountain that screamed “I have too much money and not enough taste,” and the car door pulled open. An armed guard assisted her out, and Elnora swallowed against the dread gnawing at her insides.
More than ever, the desire to know what he did for work attacked Elnora as she glanced around the white castle held up by large columns. Seriously, did this guy have a Greek deity complex? Then she noticed the suited, armed men climbing out of two Escalades sandwiching the limo. Armed escorts in addition to this house? What was this, a James Bond film? And why did he need such an enormous mansion? Compensation issues, maybe?
“The lair of the beast,” she muttered under her breath, following the guard towards the entrance. The castle was big, magnificent and almost mocking in its opulence. As if she needed a reminder of how out of her league he was.
Inside, the mansion was a monochrome masterpiece, with a classically elegant interior of minimalist red accents. The decor flowed seamlessly, each room an extension of the last. Despite not knowing Mason very well, she could tell this was exactly his style. Understated yet screaming wealth.
Reaching the parlour, the guards left her alone, and she clutched her little gold purse containing just her iPhone. For a moment, she stood assessing everything before tucking herself into a corner of the black leather couch. She was damn good at her job, among other things, yet she didn’t own a house as absurd as this. Who was Mason?
“Mr. Dimitri,” she whispered under her breath. She would look into him once she was safely back to her condo.
“Elnora.”
With a gasp, she turned to him. “You scared me.”
“It was not my intent.” He stated, climbing into the living room. “I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”
Adjusting her decorum, Elnora crossed her legs and shook her hair out of her face. Of course, he kept her waiting, but he wasn’t one to apologize for his actions.
“What is it that you do for work?” she asked.
With his lips lopsidedly tilted in a smile, she swallowed against the whirlwind of emotion as she remembered the thirst-quenching kiss. “I work.” Mason went to the couch adjacent to her and dropped into it. “Why concern yourself with that? Is it the house?”
House? Her penthouse was a house. This was a castle. Elnora narrowed her eyes at him. It was clear that Marcy had a type when it came to the men she set her up with; arrogant men with a God complex.
Laughing, Mason leaned back into the couch, and for a moment they just gawked at each other. Elnora wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to play this game of his or even come here if she wasn’t looking to turn this into a fling. He wasn’t a relationship guy; it was clear in those searing green orbs of his.
“So, are you going to tell me what you do, or do I have to find out myself?”
“Knock yourself out,” he said.
There was a glow in his eyes that dared her, making her shrug her shoulders. She knew it wouldn’t take her longer than five minutes to find out everything she wanted to learn about him—it was what she did.
“Really, Mr. Dimitri. I always find what I’m looking for,” she smiled a little.
Mason rose and walked around the crafted black coffee table centred in the room. He lowered to the space beside her, and she swivelled to eye him.
“I’m curious,” he spoke quickly. “How did you get into Marcello’s collection, Elnora? It’s been bugging me since the pub.”
Marcello? What was he talking about? Did Marcy tell him something about her? Oh, that damn friend of hers! Elnora pulled back from his overwhelming presence, but he took her arm and pulled her closer with a wistful smile.
“I understand if you’d rather not speak of it. Did I offend you?” he asked, his tone playful. His arm wrapped around Elnora’s waist and held her steady against her attempt to slip away.
“What did Marcy tell you about me?” she asked. “How do you two even know each other?”
As Mason’s eyes narrowed toward her, she drank in the beauty of his green eyes. She’d never seen such vibrant hues, sparkling like he could see through to her soul. Her gaze dropped to his lips, making her stomach clench as she caught herself yearning for another kiss.
“Do I get to see the DB4 treasure you were fawning over?” she whispered in a fray attempt to think of something else.
Mason rose with a chuckle and walked towards the detached parlour to the far end of the room, and Elnora watched him. Who was Marcello? She doubted he would tell her anything to clarify that, so she shrugged it off. Perhaps it was best to call this a night.
“What’s your poison?” His voice boomed from across the room to her.
“Something hard and bitter.”
His low groan was followed by Elnora’s purse buzzing. Almost immediately, she pulled her cellphone out of her purse and had a look at the screen.
Marcy’s frantic all-caps message sent Elnora’s heart pounding, then her eyes flew to Mason.
“So.” Mason came back to her, offering one of two glasses to her. “Who’s Marcy?”
Elnora took the offered glass, her fingers brushing Mason’s briefly. The touch sent a shiver down her spine, grounding her in the reality of the moment. Her eyes flitted to the message again, reading Marcy’s urgent text: “GET OUT OF THERE. NOW.”
