Trapped with the Tycoon
highlight_author
Jules Bennett
highlight_reads
17,7K
highlight_chapters
20
One
The second her ex’s fingers closed around her arm, Zara Perkins jerked from the firm grasp. “I’m not dancing, I’m working.”
Having Shane Chapman show up at the biggest job she’d ever taken on for the most prestigious family she’d ever worked for was just her luck. She prided herself on her business, on doing everything in her power to make her clients’ parties the event they hired her for. And Shane could ruin it all.
“You’re such a tease,” he mocked, the whiskey on his breath repugnant. “I saw you looking at me.”
Sure, with disdain when she realized he was in attendance. She’d rather walk barefoot over shards of glass than let his arms wrap around her. Zara prayed Shane would go away. This was a new job, a job she desperately needed. The last thing she wanted to do was have to defend a man she had the misfortune of dating a few times.
“Dance with me.”
The low, demanding words sent shivers through her body. Zara knew without turning around who would be behind her...her new employer and rumored-to-be corrupt business mogul Braden O’Shea.
With Shane directly in front of her and Braden behind her, Zara was literally stuck in the exact predicament she didn’t want to be in on her first big night of working for the O’Sheas. But right now, she was bracketed by two powerful men. One she wanted nothing to do with and the other set her heart racing as only a mysterious, intriguing man could do. The few times she’d been in his office had been a bit difficult to concentrate. Braden O’Shea exuded authority, control and sex appeal.
Humiliation flooded her at the idea that Braden had to intervene. She was here in a professional capacity. Having her ex confront her was not exactly showcasing the reputation she’d worked so hard to build, and coming off as anything less than professional could be career suicide.
Shane glared over her shoulder, silently telling Braden precisely what he thought of the interruption, but before Zara could say a word to either man, Braden took hold of her arm and pulled her to the dance area in the ballroom of his lavish, historical home.
Instantly she was plastered against the oldest of the O’Shea siblings...not a difficult position to find herself in, actually. She had often appreciated the visual of his broad, sexy body wrapped in the finest of black suits with black shirt and no tie. But being up close and personal, breathing in what was undoubtedly expensive, masculine cologne that had her eyes fluttering closed as she inhaled, was another level of torture entirely.
The man exuded sex appeal, but he was her new boss, and she needed this job for the prestige and the insanely large paycheck. This was her first official event with this prominent family after being officially hired a few months ago. Screwups...screwing of any kind...was not allowed.
So, no sex thoughts. None. Okay, maybe later when she was alone.
“I really need to be working.”
A little protest was in order, wasn’t it? Even if sliding against Braden felt like some sort of foreplay in itself, she was the events coordinator for this party. Dancing with the host and boss was a major professional no-no, even if they’d always gotten along well with each other before tonight. There’d always been some ridiculous magnetic energy between them that she’d never experienced before but refused to explore.
Braden’s dark gaze studied her, his mouth unsmiling. “With a dress like that, you should be dancing.”
The sexual undertone wasn’t lost on her. She’d thrown on her go-to black dress with a low V in the back and front, long sleeves, with the hem stopping at her knees. The dress was simple, yet made a statement. Hiding her curves wasn’t an option unless she wore a muumuu. Besides, this was the best dress she’d found in her boxes of belongings since she hadn’t unpacked from her move...three months ago. Because unpacking meant settling in, making roots.
“You’re not paying me to dance,” she told him, though she made no motion to step out of his powerful embrace. Her mind told her this wasn’t professional, but her stubborn body wasn’t getting that memo. “I’m positive this isn’t professional to ignore my position here.”
“You’re on break.”
With one large hand at the small of her back and the other gripping hers, Braden led her in a dance to an old classic. Crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, illuminating the polished wood floor in a kaleidoscope of colors. The wall of French doors leading to the patio gave the room an even larger feel. The O’Sheas were known for their lavish parties, and now that she was in the ballroom, she could see why. Who had an actual ballroom in their house?
Other couples swirled around them, but with few words and those dark, mesmerizing eyes, this man captured her undivided attention. She needed to get back control over this situation because even though Braden insisted she was taking a break, she wasn’t paid to socialize. She was given an insane amount of money to make this annual party an even bigger success than the last one, and she’d heard a rumor the last events coordinator for the O’Sheas was fired in the most humiliating of circumstances. She couldn’t afford slipups.
Or crazy exes.
“I could’ve handled him,” she told Braden. “Shane was just...”
“I’m not talking about another man when I have a beautiful woman in my arms.”
Okay, yeah, that definitely crossed the professional threshold. Each word he spoke dripped with charm, authority...desire. He held his feelings back, remained in control at all times. From what she’d seen, he was calculating, powerful and the aura of mystery surrounding him was even more alluring and sexy.
But, no. She’d just ended things with one powerful, controlling man. She was fine being single and focusing on her year-old business. Her goal was to be the company all major names turned to when needing a party planned or hosting a special event. Having the O’Sheas was a huge leap in the right direction. No matter the rumors surrounding their, well, less-than-legal operations behind the front of their world-renowned auction house, the O’Sheas had connections she could only dream of. She hoped this event led to new clients.
“If you keep scowling, I’m going to think you prefer Shane’s company,” Braden stated, breaking into her thoughts. “Or maybe I interrupted a lover’s quarrel?”
Zara nearly recoiled. “No. Definitely not a lover’s quarrel.”
Had Braden overheard what Shane had said? Heat flooded her cheeks. She’d dated Shane briefly and had broken things off with him weeks ago, yet the man was relentless in trying to get her attention again. When they’d gone on only a few dates, he’d started getting a bit too controlling for her comfort. Thankfully she hadn’t slept with him.
Still, he’d made a point to tell her how fast he could ruin her business. Did he honestly think that would make her give him another chance? Threats were so not the way to a woman’s heart.
She wasn’t one to back down without a fight, but she was realistic, and Shane did have money and connections. She shivered at the severity of his words.
“Cold?” Braden asked.
Braden’s hand drifted up, his fingertips grazed across her bare skin just above the dip in her material.
With the heat in his eyes, there was no way she could claim a chill. The firmness of his body moved perfectly with hers; that friction alone could cause a woman to go up in flames.
“Mr. O’Shea—”
“Braden.”
Zara swallowed. “Fine. Braden,” she corrected, forcing herself to hold his heavy-lidded stare. “I really should check on the drinks—”
“Taken care of.”
“The hors d’oeuvres—”
“Are fine.”
He spun her toward the edge of the dance floor, closer to one set of French doors leading out on to the patio. Snow swirled around outside; a storm for later tonight was in the forecast. February in Boston could be treacherous and unpredictable.
“You’ve done a remarkable job with this evening,” he told her. “I’m impressed.”
She couldn’t suppress the smile. “I’m relieved to hear that. I love my job and want all of my clients happy. Still, dancing when I should be working isn’t something I make a habit of.”
His thumb continued to lightly stroke the bare skin on her back. The man was potent, sparking arousal without even trying. Or maybe he was trying and he was so stellar at being charming, she couldn’t tell.
It took her a moment to realize that Braden had maneuvered her into a corner. With his back to the dancers, he shielded her completely with those broad shoulders and pinned her with that dark, mesmerizing gaze. “I heard what he said to you.”
Zara froze, took a deep breath and chose her next words carefully. “I assure you I would never let anyone or anything affect my ability to work. Shane is—”
“Not going to bother you again,” he assured her with a promising yet menacing tone. Braden’s eyes darted over her body, touching her just the same as his talented fingertips had done mere moments ago.
No. No, no, no. Hadn’t she already scolded herself for having lustful thoughts? He was her boss, for pity’s sake. No matter how intriguing Braden O’Shea was, she had no room for sex in her life right now. No wonder she was grouchy.
“Storm is kicking up.” Braden nodded over her shoulder toward the floor-to-ceiling window. “Do you live far?”
“Maybe twenty minutes away.”
“If you need to leave—”
“No.” Zara shook her head, holding a hand up to stop him. “I’ve lived in Boston my entire life. Snow doesn’t bother me. Besides, I would never leave an event early.”
Braden studied her a moment before nodding. “I’m happy to hear that, but I don’t want you driving on these roads. My driver will make sure you get home.”
“There’s no need for that.”
Braden leaned in, just enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek. “Let’s not waste time arguing when we should be dancing.”
Snaking an arm around her waist, he pulled her against his body once again. Apparently her break wasn’t over. Good thing, because she wasn’t quite ready to leave the luxury of brushing against his taut body.
* * *
Her curves were killer from a visual standpoint, but to have them beneath his hands was damn near crippling. Braden knew she was a sexy woman, but he hadn’t expected this sizzling attraction. He had a plan and he needed to stay focused. Those damn curves momentarily threw him off his game.
Zara in her elegant black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline showcasing the swell of her breasts was absolutely stunning, eye-catching and causing him to lose focus on the true intent of this party.
Which was why he hadn’t missed the encounter when one of his most hated enemies sidled up next to the woman Braden had been gazing at off and on earlier in the evening. A flash of jealousy had speared him. Ridiculous, since Zara was merely the events coordinator...and that job had not come about by chance. Braden had purposely chosen her. He needed to get closer, close enough to gain access into her personal, private life and into her home. His family’s heritage could be hidden in her house, and she’d have no clue if she stumbled upon the items.
Nothing could keep him from fulfilling his deathbed promise to his dad.
Braden was all for adding in a little seduction on his way to gaining everything he’d ever wanted. Pillow talk always loosened the tongue, and if Zara could tell him everything he needed to know, then he wouldn’t have to break any laws...at least where she was concerned. He’d be a fool to turn that combination down and there was no way he could ignore how her body moved so perfectly against his. He also hadn’t missed how her breath had caught the second he’d touched her exposed back. He had to admit, just to himself, the innocent touch had twisted something in him, as well. Arousal was a strong, overwhelming emotion, and one he had to keep control over.
For now, he needed to remember he was the head of the family and as the leader, he had a duty to fulfill. Flirting, seducing and even a little extracurricular activities were fine, so long as he kept his eye on the target.
Tonight O’Shea’s Auction House was celebrating not only being a prominent, world-renowned auction house for over eighty years, but also the opening of two more satellite locations in Atlanta and Miami, thanks to his brother, Mac, who had moved down to Miami to oversee the properties.
Boston would always be home to the main store, Braden’s store, now that his father was gone. And now that Braden was fully in charge, there were going to be some changes. This family had to move toward being legit. The stress and pressure Braden had seen his father go through wasn’t something Braden wanted for his future. The massive heart attack that stole Patrick O’Shea’s life wasn’t brought on by leading a normal, worry-free life.
Braden had a five-year plan. Surely in that time they could remove themselves from any illegal ties and slowly sever those bonds. The killings had to stop. That was the first order of business, but tonight, after seeing Shane manhandle Zara, Braden was almost ready to go back on his vow.
Death was nothing new to him. He’d witnessed his father give a kill order multiple times for reasons he’d always justified. Braden may not have always agreed with his father’s ways, but his father was an effective businessman and well respected.
Zara’s deep chocolate eyes shifted around the room before landing back on him. “Your brother is coming this way.”
Braden didn’t turn, didn’t relinquish his hold on Zara. The music continued, guests around them danced and chatted, but Braden paid them no mind.
“We need to talk,” Mac stated.
Braden stopped dancing but didn’t let go of Zara as he threw Mac a glance over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you in the study in five minutes.”
“Now.”
Braden resisted the urge to curse. He prided himself on control. “Five minutes,” he said, before turning back and focusing solely on Zara.
He picked up right where they’d left off dancing. He could still feel Mac behind him, so Braden maneuvered his partner toward the edge of the dance floor. Zara was his for now, and sharing their time wasn’t an option.
“You can go talk to him.” Zara smiled, a deep dimple winking back at him. The innocence of the dimple and the sex appeal of that dress were polar opposite. “I should be working anyway, you know.”
He was paying her to work, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like the feel of her in his arms, against him. There would be time for more later. He’d make sure of it. Gaining her trust on a personal level would lead him exactly where he needed to be.
Gliding his fingertips over her exposed back one last time, Braden stepped away from Zara and tipped his head. “I’ll find you when I’m done with Mac. If you have any more problems with Shane, you come straight to me.”
Zara nodded, clasping her hands in front of her and searching the room as if trying to get a location on the man in question. “I’ll be fine. Go talk to your brother, and thank you for the dance. I have to get back to work.”
Braden closed the space between them, picked up her hand and kissed her delicate knuckles. “I should be thanking you.”
Her mouth parted as she let out a slight gasp when his lips grazed her hand. Yes, enticing her would be no problem at all. He’d been waiting on the right opportunity, the moment he could get the greatest impact out of this game of seduction.
First things first, he had to see what the issue was with his younger brother. Braden excused himself and went in search of Mac.
The entire O’Shea family had come for the party despite the bad weather predictions for the Boston area, including cousins from Boston and down the East Coast, his brother, sister and Ryker.
What kind of celebration would this be for the O’Sheas if the whole Irish clan didn’t attend? Mac would be overseeing the southern locations, a job he was all too eager to take over and to get out of the cold winters for, especially since his best friend, Jenna, had moved to Miami about a year ago.
Once in the study, Braden closed the door behind him and crossed the polished wood floors. Mac leaned against the old mahogany desk, swirling bourbon around in his tumbler. Braden knew it was bourbon without even asking because the O’Sheas were simple men with simple needs—power, good bourbon and women. The order varied depending on the circumstance.
“You need to calm down,” Mac commanded. “That murderous look in your eyes is scaring our guests.”
“I’m calm.” To prove it, Braden flashed a smile. “See?”
Mac shook his head. “Listen, I know you hate Shane Chapman. We all do. He’s a lying prick. But, whatever his personal—”
“He’s harassing Zara.”
Braden stopped short just before he reached his brother and crossed his arms over his chest. Shane Chapman was the bane of the O’Sheas’ existence. A few years ago, he’d attempted to hire the auction house to acquire an heirloom illegally. Braden had made a valiant effort to get it, spending more time and money than he really should’ve, but to no avail.
Viewing it as a deliberate slight, Shane had attempted to blackmail the O’Sheas. His laughable threats were quickly taken care of by means nobody discussed. Shane was lucky he was still breathing because that had been during the Patrick O’Shea reign.
Shane was only at this party for one reason—the whole “keep your friends close and your enemies closer” wasn’t just a clever saying.
“Keep your eye on him,” Braden went on. “This can’t interfere with the plans. If Shane needs to go...”
Mac nodded. “I’ll let Ryker know.”
Ryker. The O’Sheas’ right-hand man, who may as well have been born into the family. Instead, he’d been unofficially adopted as a rebellious preteen, and he’d been with them since.
But damn it, Braden didn’t want blood on his hands. He wanted to concentrate on retrieving the heirlooms and relics their auction house was officially known for. They had an elite list of clients, and word of mouth always brought more on board. The timeless pieces the O’Sheas uncovered all over the world kept their business thriving. Several pieces were “discovered” by less-than-legal means, but they were paid hefty sums to be discreet. Smuggling in items with legal loads for big auctions was easy to do.
“I think your approach to Zara isn’t the smartest.” Mac sipped his bourbon. “You’re coming on too strong and not focusing.”
Braden narrowed his gaze. “That’s a pretty bold statement coming from the man who has a woman in every major city.”
Mac eyed him over the glass. “We’re not talking about me. Unless you’d like me to seduce the beautiful party planner.”
“Keep your damn hands off her.”
Why was he suddenly so territorial? Braden had no claims on Zara.
But he’d held her, felt her against him and seen a thread of vulnerability when Zara had been looking at Shane. He refused to see any woman harassed or mistreated.
His sister, Laney, was currently dating some schmuck, who could be demeaning at times. Yet another issue Braden would deal with now that he was in charge. No way in hell would he allow his baby sister to be belittled by anyone. Ever.
“Leave Zara to me, and you concentrate on your new locations,” Braden told his brother. “Is that all you needed?”
Mac finished off his drink, setting his tumbler down on the desk. “For now. I’ll keep an eye on Shane. Ryker will be a last resort. I know you want to move in a different direction, but Shane can’t interfere. We’re too close to finding those scrolls.”
Braden nodded and headed back out to the party. Those scrolls, all nine of them, were centuries old and held immense power over Braden’s family. He wanted them back, and at one time, during the Great Depression, they’d been in the home Zara currently lived in. Supposedly they’d been stored in a trunk that had been sold decades ago. Unfortunately, the trunk had been recently tracked down but as the scrolls hadn’t been inside, they were back to square one with Zara’s house as the last known location.
Just as Braden cleared the wide opening leading to the ballroom, he spotted Shane standing over Zara. She shook her head and started to turn when Shane’s hand whipped out and gripped her bicep, jerking her back to his chest.
Braden didn’t care about moving stealthily through the crowd. He felt Mac right behind him as he charged forward. His brother always had his back.
“Remove your hand from Miss Perkins’s arm.” Braden didn’t try to mask the rage in his tone. He waited a beat, but Shane still held tight and kept his back to Braden. “Remove your hand or I won’t need to get my security team. I’ll throw your ass out myself.”
Over his shoulder, Braden heard Mac telling someone, most likely one of their employees, to have security on standby. Braden knew Mac was only looking out for everyone’s best interest, but Braden could only see red right now. Thankfully, Shane had backed Zara into a corner, and the guests were still milling about, oblivious to the action.
Shane threw a glance over his shoulder. “This doesn’t concern you. Zara and I have a little unfinished business. Just a lover’s spat.”
The look on her face told Braden there wasn’t anything unfinished here and this sure as hell wasn’t a lover’s spat—she’d told him as much earlier.
Zara’s wide, dark eyes held his. Even though she had her chin tipped up in defiance, her lips thinned in anger, there was a spark of fear in those eyes, and Braden wouldn’t tolerate Shane one more second.
Braden grabbed on to Shane’s wrist, applying pressure in the exact spot to cause maximum pain. “Take your damn hand off her. Now.”
Shane gave Zara’s arm a shove. “You can’t keep avoiding me,” he told her, rubbing his wrist where Braden had squeezed. “Next time I call, you better answer or I’ll come by your office. I doubt you want that.”
Just as Shane turned, Braden blocked his exit. “If you ever touch her or any woman that way again and I hear of it, you’ll wish for death. Feel me?”
Shane hesitated a second before he laughed, slapping Braden on the shoulder. “You’re Patrick O’Shea’s son, right down to the threats. And here I thought you were too good to get your hands dirty.”
Even though the bastard had touched Braden, he wasn’t about to take the bait Shane dangled in front of him. Flexing his fists, Braden was more than ready to hit Shane, but he knew deep down he wasn’t like his father.
Braden had never ordered anyone to be killed, had always said he wouldn’t. Right now, though, he was reconsidering that promise he’d made to himself.
“There’s a first time for everything,” he promised just as two security men in black suits came to show Shane the door.
They didn’t put their hands on him, as that would’ve caused even more of a scene, but they did flank either side of the nuisance and walk him toward the closest exit. People around him stared for only a moment before going back to their conversations. Nearly everyone knew to mind their business if they wanted to remain in the O’Sheas’ tight circle.
As soon as Shane was gone, Braden went back in with Zara.
“You okay here?” Mac whispered behind him.
With a nod, Braden wrapped his arm around Zara’s waist. “We’re fine. Cover for me.” He silently led her to the small sitting room off the ballroom and closed the door behind him before turning to face Zara. She rubbed her arm, and it took all of Braden’s willpower not to rush back out and follow through on his need to punch Shane.
Braden gently took Zara’s other arm, trying to ignore the brush of his knuckles against the side of her breast, and guided her toward one of the leather club chairs.
Flicking on the light on the accent table by the chair, Braden squatted down in front of her.
“Braden—”
He held up his hand, cutting her off. “Let me see your arm.”
“I’m fine. I really need to get back to work. I’m sorry I caused a scene.”
“Either pull your sleeve up or pull the shoulder down so I can see.”
Zara hesitated a moment, then pulled the material off her shoulder, exposing creamy white skin and a royal blue strap from her bra. She shrugged enough to pull her arm up a bit.
Rage bubbled within Braden at the sight of blue fingerprint-shaped bruises already forming on her flawless skin. “I should’ve knocked him out.”
Slowly, Braden eased the material back over her arm and shoulder. Her eyes held his and her body trembled as she placed her hand over his, halting his movement.
“I’m fine,” she assured him again. “I really need to get back to work. I appreciate what you did, though.”
He hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten until he felt her soft breath on his cheek. He glanced up to her, his eyes darting down to her lips.
“My motives aren’t always so selfless.”
The corner of her mouth quirked. “Whatever your motives are, they were effective.”
He leaned in closer, close enough that barely a breath could pass between their lips. “I’m always effective.”
