Maisey Yates - The Highest Price to Pay

“A pirate in all manner of things,” she said.

“I had never thought of it that way. But it’s a nice way to romanticize it,” he said, his voice a near whisper, his face so near hers now that it made her lips tingle.

“I’m not romanticizing. I find nothing appealing about a man with no honor.”

He released his hold on her, strong, square hands curling into fists, the tendons becoming more prominent, showing the weight of the gesture and the intensity of the emotion behind it, even though his face remained smooth, unreadable.

“Honor. An interesting concept, one I’ve yet to bear witness to.”

Join the club. She wasn’t sure how much honor she’d ever seen in her life. As a teenager, stuck in a hospital room, it had made a nice fantasy. A knight in shining armor riding in on his steed. But she’d given up on that by the time she’d reached the end of high school.

And instead of a knight on his steed she got a buccaneer on his galleon intent on plundering twenty-five percent of her gold. Brilliant.

She looked up and his eyes locked with hers, she felt the heat again, inside this time, making her blood feel like warm honey in her veins, the ensuing languor making her reserve, her anger, begin to evaporate.

How did he do that? How did he make her melt inside with just a look?

Her lips suddenly felt dry and she darted her tongue out quickly, dampening them. She watched as his eyes followed the motion and she felt a yawning, aching sensation open up inside of her. She knew what it was. It was arousal, and she wasn’t a stranger to it. She’d just never been in a man’s arms while experiencing it. Had never had the object of her desire so close that she could place her hand on the hard wall of his chest if she chose to.

This wasn’t a safe fantasy in the privacy of her bedroom. Not a dim, gauzy dream that sent vague sensations of pleasure rolling through her. This was a real, live, man. And he was looking at her lips with much more than just a passing interest.

No wonder his brother’s fiancée hadn’t said no. No wonder she had broken her commitment to be with him. He was temptation incarnate. His eyes, his chiseled physique, promised a woman pleasure beyond fantasy.

Oh, yes, what a fantasy. She flashed back to his finger skimming her scar. It wouldn’t be a fantasy for him; it would be a waking nightmare. And she couldn’t even fathom the thought of him seeing her, all of her. The idea was too horrifying to even contemplate.

And why was she thinking of it at all? It was like there was a war going on in her. Common sense versus basic instincts. It was a good thing she’d gained control over that basic part of herself a long time ago.

It suddenly felt unbearably hot, even though she was certain the temperature couldn’t have actually changed. Or maybe it had. Maybe more people had filed into the small club and that was it. It couldn’t really be him, his gaze, making her feel dizzy with heat.

He leaned in slightly and she didn’t move, she stayed, rooted to the spot, keeping her eyes on his as he drew nearer to her. Her eyes tried to flutter closed and she caught them, wouldn’t allow it.

She still didn’t move away.

He stopped suddenly, his lips so near hers she could feel the heat of them. “Don’t worry. I don’t need to possess honor to help make you a very rich woman. In fact, it helps that I don’t.”

The gauzy curtain of arousal that had been shrouding them lifted suddenly and broke her trance as effectively as a gust of icy wind.

“I’m ready to leave,” she said, stepping away from him, finally.

“I’ll stay,” he said, golden gaze already wandering. He would probably stay and find some slim, sexy socialite to hook up with.

It made her feel ill, and it shouldn’t make her feel anything at all.

“Good. Great. Have fun.”

She turned and walked out of the club, embracing the chill of the night air as it hit her face. She needed it, needed a good dose of reality. What had happened in there wasn’t real. It wasn’t possible for a woman like her. And even if it were, she couldn’t think of a single man she should want less.

It didn’t change the fact that her heart was still pounding wildly and her body felt empty and unsatisfied. Didn’t change the fact that when she closed her eyes it was his face that she saw.

“IT’S headline news in the society pages,” she said, still feeling numb with the shock of her discovery.

“The press has an unhealthy fascination with my sex life,” Blaise responded, his voice still rich and enticing, even over the phone.

Ella stared down at the picture of the two of them, shrouded in near darkness in a secluded corner of the club, their lips nearly touching. Her stomach contracted and heat flooded her face. His body, so near to hers, so hot and dangerously tempting.

She shook her head and tried to banish the rogue thoughts. “I thought you said the press always printed the truth about you.”

“Usually, if I’m with a woman, she’s my lover. Or she will be by the time the night has ended.”

That thought made her scalp prickle, made her breasts feel heavy. “Well, I’m not.”

“No, but we were together. And they know I recently purchased your loan, a move that they presume was a bailout, a way for me to help out the current woman in my life.”

“Shoddy reporting,” she said tightly. “Someone needs to write a letter to the editor.”

She sat down in front of her laptop and pulled up the statistics for her website. It was something she did out of habit every day. She liked to know what brought people to her website, to get a window into the kind of people that viewed her work and to help get an idea of where she needed to buy advertising.

Her eyes widened when she saw the number of visitors she’d had, and they widened even more when she saw the keywords that had brought them to the site. Blaise Chevalier and Ella Stanton lovers. Blaise Chevalier Ella Stanton girlfriend. Blaise Chevalier Ella Stanton engaged. The last one made her inhale the sip of tea she’d been taking. She coughed into the phone.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I…I have about four times the normal amount of traffic to my website and…almost everyone was searching for information about the two of us.” She looked back down at the article in the paper. “I…wow.”

“That is the kind of press you need.”

“And I got it at the kind of event you said was beneath me,” she said, feeling the need to point it out because his superior tone grated.

“It helped that you were keeping the proper company.”

That rendered her speechless for a full three seconds. “Your ego really is staggering,” she managed to say.

“I fail to see how acknowledging my appeal to the media is evidence of my ego.”

“Hmm.”

“You disagree?”

She couldn’t deny that she never would have gotten such a prominent feature in the society pages if it weren’t for him. She couldn’t deny that Blaise’s aristocratic heritage, his reputation for being completely ruthless and his status as a first rate womanizer, and the fact that she was with him, were probably the key elements to the fact that there was any interest in her attendance at the party. But she didn’t have to like it. And she could still think he had a big ego. Because he did. Any man who could callously walk off with his brother’s intended bride and then, after the damage had been done, abandon her as well, was hardly a man of humility.

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