Enchantingly Entangled Page 3

“Why, he showed up drunk at a fundraiser!” says one aunt.

  “A fundraiser!” repeats the other and I’m frankly too much out of it to really distinguish which of them wailed about what right now.

  “Bloody hell…” I grit out, fighting the nausea and the dizziness as best as I can.

  “Don’t swear, dear!”

  “He showed up with some… some fortune hunter—”

  “Bimbo on his arm!”

  “It was atrocious!”

  “Atrocious, my boy!”

  I roll my eyes at that.

  “And he got into a fight with some rock star or something.”

  “It’s all over the internet! All over! You must do something, Sterling!”

  “You must!”

  I groan, sitting up again. “I think not. You might have forgotten, but I’m in New York right now.”

  “But Sterling: think of the Press!”

  “Think of the shareholders!”

  I rub my hands over my face. “I don’t care one jot. I’m not getting back on a plane because of some silly fight. We all know regrettably that this is not the craziest thing Nigel has done and I’ve responsibilities here.”

  “Stuff and nonsense! Think of the family, Sterling!”

  “Think of the company for heaven’s sake!”

  I huff. “Alright, alright. Simmer down, both of you! I’ll talk with my PA in the morning. Now please let me go back to sleep, this bloody jet lag is killing me!”

  “Of course, dear, but don’t swear like that, it’s beneath you!”

  “Beneath you! Try to get some rest, but do call us in the morning as soon as you start to solve this mess!”

  “You must, dear! Solve this mess. And do speak with that wayward bloke, will you?”

  “You must make him see sense! You must!”

  “Yeah, sure,” I mumble. Like Nigel would ever listen to me; that guy is a lost cause.

  I end the call and finally sink between the sheets again.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to push the pain in my head and thoughts of my stupid, fucking, little brother away.

  Then the bloody phone starts to ring once more.

  I look at the screen and see that woman’s name glaring at me in bold letters, the theme of the shower scene from ‘Psycho’ breaking the silence.

  No fucking bloody way I’m talking with my blasted stepmother as well!

  I reject the call and turn the mobile off, then I drop it into a drawer of the bedside table for good measure.

  Finally I can get some sleep now!

  I turn on my side, giving my back to it as if afraid the damn thing could go off anyway and then the bloody hotel room’s phone starts to ring.

  Chapter 4

  CORA

  This is crazy.

  What am I doing here?

  I’ve been staring at the door for the last hour, my heart permanently lodged in my throat, my palms sweaty.

  I’m so nervous I can barely stop myself from walking up and down my brother’s gigantic living room and still no trace of Sterling.

  I swallow thickly, feeling my resolve weaken.

  I thought meeting him and getting this over with was a good idea, but the more I wait the more I feel anxious.

  “Cora? Cora, what’s the matter?”

  My brother appears in front of me and I snap at attention, I’m so frustrated and distracted I didn’t even notice he was in the room.

  I try to school my features and shrug a little. “Uh? Nothing, I’m absolutely fine. Just… just a bit antsy… you know, for the finals.”

  Charles smiles at me, eyes crinkling at the corners as he pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Munchkin, you’re going to ace them as always.”

  I force a little smile. “I hope so.”

  My eyes dart back to the door.

  Still nothing.

  My heart feels like it’s about to explode.

  That’s it.

  This was a stupid idea.

  I’m out of here.

  Thank God Sterling didn’t show up.

  He must be still out because of the jet lag.

  “I thought you said both Aston and Sterling were going to be here for brunch…”

  All right, I’m fishing for information.

  So what?

  I might be slightly obsessed. I can’t help it.

  Charles grins. “Aston is not coming. He met someone last night. Someone special.”

  I feel my fake little smile stretch and become sincere. “Shut the front door! Really?”

  My brother practically beams nodding energetically.

  “Who is she?” I ask.

  “Well, if you ask Aston, he will tell you she’s the one.”

  I feel my eyebrows rise in astonishment: Aston is so not the type of guy who would talk like that: he is anything but romantically inclined.

  I step into my bedroom to retrieve a pair of sneakers. “Do you know her?”

  “Barely. We all met yesterday while I was looking for Lulu’s present. Her name is Lara and she is lovely. Aston seems to be head over heels.”

  I sigh. Aston? Head over heels for some girl he just met?

  Okay, so maybe Sterling is not the only one who gets completely fucked up when jet-lagged, but then again if she ends up really being a nice girl, maybe this will be good for Aston. God knows if that big, brooding bear underneath that cold exterior doesn’t need a little bit of light and a little bit of love in his life.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “I need to meet this girl, Charles.”

  My brother chuckles. “Why? Do you want to vet her?”

  I nod seriously. “Absolutely. You know it would have been for the best if you’d taken my assessment of Cruella at face value since she ended up being as fake as a spray tan and a psycho bitch to boot.”

  My poor brother has the worst taste in women, his latest girlfriend —actually ex-girlfriend as of yesterday— Lulu, aka Cruella de Vil for yours truly, vastly proved that, along with the fact that, sadly, I was right about her level of madness when last night she barged uninvited here, into my brother’s penthouse, in order to search for her birthday present, a piece of expensive lingerie that she literally demanded he buy for her, so that she could wear it on a vacation with her friends. A vacation that she had forgotten to mention to my brother and to which he was not invited.

  Yeah, she is that crazy and tactless.

  “You’re right, sister dear, I will let Aston know that he’s not allowed to sweep this girl off her feet and drive off into the sunset until you give your seal of approval.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You’d better. You know I love that big brute as much as I love you.”

  Charles laughs heartily. “And what about Sterling?”

  My heart skips a bit. “What about him? He is a rude jerk and as usual he’s late. In fact, I’ve lost my appetite waiting for him to show up. I think I’m going to go for a run.”

  I bend to tie my shoes, then I stand straight again, pick my earbuds and sunglasses from where I left them laying on the coffee table, I strap my phone to my arm and before my brother can say anything more, I’m out the door; feelings of relief and disappointment washing over me at having missed my chance to see Sterling.

  I could have taken the private elevator that opens directly in the middle of my brother’s place, but I did not want to risk running into Sterling in it, plus I forgot to ask Charlie the new code for it this morning.

  He had to change it after the whole Lulu-fiasco yesterday, least she tried to sneak in again; I wouldn’t put it past her to manage to slip through security once more, after all she had no trouble doing exactly that last night.

  I walk down a flight of stairs and then I head for the row of elevators.

  I get in with my heart still pounding away in my chest. I know I won’t calm down until I’m out of the building and there’s no longer chance of seeing S
terling.

  I press the button that will get me to the main lobby of the skyscraper, twenty-five floors down, and I sigh, briefly closing my eyes.

  Maybe in another five years I’ll have enough balls to confront him.

  I keep my eyes closed and rest my head against the cold stainless steel wall of the lift, mentally mapping the course I’m going to follow in my run. If there’s something Manhattan has, it’s a lot of places for runners to let off some steam.

  With each floor the elevator goes down uninterrupted, I can’t help but heave a relieved sigh, thanking my lucky star that this building, my brother excluded, is full to brimming with the kind of people that will match Angelina’s description of the perfect heir —or heiress— and that means there’s no way in hell they’ll be out of bed before noon any day, let alone a Saturday, having spent the night before drinking, clubbing and getting caught in compromising, undignified position by the gossip-hungry Press.

  I briefly glance at the control panel and grin to myself when I realize the next stop is the last.

  As the doors of the lift open with a swoosh, the little smile falls from my lips and my heart squeezes and stops for a moment because a tall man built like a wall and smelling like freshly cut pinewood and coffee has just entered the car.

  A man I haven’t seen in five years and yet I’ve never forgotten.

  I study the messy, sandy brown hair with the slight wave to it —the only thing about his perfect appearance that is always out of place— the square, clean-shaven, chiseled jaw, the bow of his full upper lip, the hard lines of his big body, the bulging biceps left uncovered by the T-shirt and the way in which the perfectly tailored jeans he is wearing do nothing to hide the strength of his lower body.

  I freeze completely, eyes wide open behind my amber-colored sunglasses, breath chopped, heart now thundering away in my chest like a little trapped bird slamming against a cage.

  The doors of the elevator close and too late I realize I failed to get out.

  “Which floor, miss?” he asks.

  I try to speak but not a sound comes out.

  What the fuck is he doing here?

  Why didn’t he take the freaking private elevator?

  The stupid code!

  I’m sure my brother texted it to him. I fucking saw him do it this morning, but as jet-lagged as Sterling surely is, he probably didn’t even read Charles’s latest text.

  “Miss?”

  Oh God, oh God.

  What do I do?

  And why is he calling me ‘Miss’?

  I reach blindly for the panel and press one of the higher buttons, inwardly cursing my woolly brain.

  Why didn’t I press for the second floor or something?!

  Fuck!

  Sterling bends a little to press the top floor button and then retreats to the other side of the lift, but his penetrating green eyes remain on me.

  He is staring at me shamelessly, looking me up and down in my little running black and pink spandex outfit and making me feel practically naked.

  The more he looks, the more I realize he has not the slightest idea who I am.

  I suppose it makes sense: we haven’t seen each other in five years and as much as he looks deliciously the same, I have done a lot of growing up. There’s nothing of the scrawny teenager he probably remembers in me, aside from the strawberry blonde hair —which has been cropped in a pixie cut since a couple of months— and the height. Now that is a department in which I haven’t grown an inch. With my new-found antipathy for high heels —something I used to like when I was younger— to him I probably look even shorter than I did back then.

  As for the rest of my body, that did a lot of growing, more than I wished for maybe. I was a late bloomer, but when I did bloom I went all-in: my curves are more than average and garner me more male attention than I would like.

  And they are certainly garnering me this male attention right now.

  I feel my face flush and with a shaking hand I reach up to fix my slightly crooked sunglasses over the bridge of my nose.

  I’m so clumsy, instead of pushing them back up I pull them off completely and then drop them to the floor.

  Oh my God, what am I doing?

  Why can’t I get a grip on myself?

  Before I can kneel down to pick them up, I see Sterling doing it for me and coming to stand even closer to me to hand them over.

  “Here you go,” he says, his voice husky and deep sending a shiver through me.

  Our eyes lock and for a long moment I hold his gaze and forget how to breathe.

  I feel the gentle touch of his fingers on the back of my hand as he tries to give me my sunglasses back and something clicks between us.

  The air itself becomes charged with something I cannot name, something that makes my heart beat even faster and his breaths shorter.

  I see his Adam’s apple working in his throat, his powerful, barrel-like chest rising and falling with deep breaths under the stretched material of his dark blue T-shirt, perfectly molded to every row of defined muscles, from the large brawny shoulders down to the flat stomach and sculpted abs.

  I tell myself I should say something —anything— but I can’t even say ‘thank you’, his proximity has stunned me into silence.

  He takes another step, completely erasing the distance between us and my mind goes blank.

  He inhales deeply, his eyes boring into me. He reaches up to place my shades over my nose, my eyes following each of his movements.

  At the last second, he seems to forget about the sunglasses altogether and he brushes my cheek with the back of his large hand, making the little hair at the back of my neck stand.

  “You are so beautiful, so soft,” he murmurs, one eyebrow arched, a look of complete surprise on his face that I don’t know how to interpret.

  I don’t have much time for it anyway, because before my brain gets on board with what’s happening, Sterling is kissing me and I’m kissing him back and I don’t mean a little peck on the lips, oh no.

  He means business and so do I apparently.

  Our mouths come together with a force and a desperation that leave me completely dizzy, our tongues dancing together, teeth clashing. I feel something hard and unyielding under my fingertips and I realize I’m digging my fingers into his arms as I stand on my tiptoes to reach him better even if I can feel he is crouched over me; the height difference is too great.

  Sterling does away with the problem easily though by picking me up and pressing me against his huge, muscled body.

  My legs spread and go around his waist without input from me and I moan into the kiss when I feel him deepen it, his mouth devouring mine as he pins me to the wall, his lower body surging against mine.

  The contact rips a tortured growl from his lips, but he doesn’t stop kissing me and the vibration of the sound does all kinds of wonderful, confusing things to me, making me whimper in pleasure.

  I feel my breasts grow fuller, my nipples hardening against the large expanse of his sinewy chest.

  He drives his hips against me and my body goes rigid as I realize something hard and big is now pressing into the cradle of my thighs, making my clit heavy with want; my pussy dampening further and clenching around nothingness.

  I want to get closer to him: this is not enough. I clutch his body to mine and buck against his lower body, feeling what I know it has to be a very aroused, very hard erection jerk against me.

  “Oh, God!” I moan into his mouth, our breaths mingling.

  Sterling grunts and breaks the kiss. “Oh fuck! Who are you? Tell me your name!”

  I breathe even harder, my heart hammering at the sound of the sexy hoarseness of his gravelly voice. That Brit accent of his doing away with the last shred of my rationality.

  I don’t answer his question and pull him down for an even deeper kiss, my hips rocking on his.

  I hear him hiss and then his body starts to move faster against me,
driving me higher up the wall.

  At this point we are more than simply kissing or even simply making out: he is practically humping me against the icy-cold wall; our bodies, our confined sexes, rubbing together and the delicious friction sending shockwaves of sensations through me.

  I’m officially in uncharted territory here: I’ve done some kissing with guys before, but that was it, this is all new for me and the feelings coursing through my blood are driving me insane.

  He pulls back to look at me, his hands grabbing my ass more firmly. “Good God, you’re coming already? You’re so beautiful, so fucking sexy… come for me, sweetheart. Feel my hard cock drive against your little pussy and come for me…”

  I blush even more deeply at his words and can do little but do as he says.

  I can feel myself climbing and soaring, my core contracting and tingling, my skin so warm I feel like electricity is sizzling all over it; my nipples are little diamond studs right now and my pussy has gone from damp to sopping wet and by the way Sterling is grinding against me mimicking a fuck, his steely erection twitching between us, even in my inexperience I can tell he is not far behind me.

  I moan in pleasure as I feel him rock more deeply into me and then just stay there, my body suspended over his, his hips tightly pressed to mine.

  Sterling tears his mouth from mine again. “Oh fuck, I need you. I need you so much. You feel amazing, amazing…” he mumbles, trailing hot kisses down my neck.

  I moan, wrapping my thighs more closely around him and then I feel the nip of his teeth on my neck as he nibbles my skin and I go over the edge with an ecstatic cry.

  I blink rapidly and start to push him away.

  He puts me down, pressing his forehead down on mine as we both try to catch our breath.

  “Damn, you felt wonderful coming in my arms like that, but it’s nothing to what is going to feel like when I have you coming on my cock. Tell me your name.”

  I see his eyes are closed, I slide one hand over the wall to the panel, the button for the twenty-third floor is glowing, I press the one for the next floor and as I hear the doors chime open, I push away from Sterling and run out of there.

  He looks surprised and slightly pained.

  “No wait!” I hear him say and then the doors close over his gorgeous face and the last thing I see is the thunderous, confused expression in his intense green eyes.