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And the kidnap thing had never been serious. It had been a joke.Mostly.
The prickle of shame niggled, though, as his gaze swept across the breathtaking view from the bedroom’s terrace. The large pool below sparkled in the sunlight, the blue water highlighting the Blackbeard logo he’d had installed in marble mosaic tiles on the pool’s bottom. Then there were the formal gardens, which were kept pristine all year round by a team of gardeners, the pool house and two other guest villas, the lemon and olive groves that led down to his private dock, where he kept a sailing clipper, the motor launch Milly had tried to pinch and the dinghy they had used to return from the cove. Of course, he also had a luxury super-yacht, which was currently anchored in thebay and which he barely used. And the helicopter and private jet he owned to travel to his different homes—in Mayfair, the Hamptons, Rome and the Cayman Islands—and his business headquarters and penthouse apartments on Manhattan’s Upper West Side and the City of London.
Okay, he wasn’t just rich, he was phenomenally rich. Much richer now than the bastard who had broken his mother’s heart had ever been. But he’d always believed his wealth—the luxuries he enjoyed, the homes and properties he had acquired—were the justifiable rewards for his success. He hadn’t used them to exploit anyone.
He’d worked extremely hard to throw off the shackles of the poverty he’d grown up in. But as he stared at the view, surveying the riches he had accumulated over the past decade and a half, he found himself wondering how much of his drive and ambition had come from the desire to escape his miserable origins, and how much had been a need to prove he was better than the Cades. Better not just than Alfred Cade, but also his half-brother, Brandon. The man who had inherited everything, when he had inherited nothing.
He thrust his hand through his hair, hating the direction of his thoughts, and the feeling of shame he couldn’t quite shake. Because it was forcing him to acknowledge his reasons for bringing Milly here hadn’t been a joke. Not entirely. After all, he’d known who she was, who she was connected to, even if he had also wanted her, as soon as he’d caught her driving his boat.
It had never even occurred to him until now that his pursuit of wealth might not all have been about lifting him and his mother out of poverty. Might it also have been the low-burning anger and sense of injustice that had marred so much of his childhood? Because if that was true, it was beyond pathetic.
He frowned.
Okay, get over yourself.
Where was all this existential angst coming from?
Was this a symptom of the burn-out too? Because he was basically re-examining his whole life and career trajectory based on one booty call, just because he’d discovered Milly Devlin was a virgin.
He heard a polite cough and swung round.
At last.
Milly stood on the terrace behind him, looking sheepish and way too cute in her borrowed cut-offs and the worn vest, her cheeks reddened from his kisses.
The shaft of longing surged through him again. Rich and fierce and fluid.
Apparently, their chemistry was even stronger now he knew what it was like to see her expressive face contort with pleasure and feel her massaging him to orgasm.
Terrific.
He straightened away from the terrace railing and shoved his fists into the pockets of his sweatpants. Because he wanted to touch her again. And that wasn’t going to happen until they got a few things straight.
But something about his visceral reaction also felt like a vindication. One thing was for damn sure, his motivations for sleeping with Milly Devlin hadn’t had anything to do with her connection to Brandon Cade, and everything to do with the kinetic chemistry they shared.
The last of his shame and confusion began to release its stranglehold on his throat when her eyes met his and what he saw in her expression was guarded determination. Not fear or vulnerability. Yet more evidence he had totally overreacted.
Time to defuse the situation, before it got more awkward.
‘How about we start over, Milly?’ he said.
At exactly the same time as she said, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was a virgin.’
‘Okay,’ he managed, the earnest apology starting to make him feel like a bully again. He shouldn’t have browbeaten her about her inexperience.
Her virginity had only freaked him out because of stuff in his past that had nothing to do with her... Or what they’d shared in his bed—which had been great. And not a lot to do with him either. He hadn’t chosen to be fathered by a man who took pleasure in exploiting and hurting virgins. So why had he framed their lovemaking according to that man’s sins?
But before he could say any of that, she launched into a heartfelt little speech.
‘Honestly, it didn’t even occur to me to tell you,’ she rushed on. ‘I didn’t think you’d care. It wasn’t that big a deal to me, so I didn’t think it would be that big a deal to you. And the only reason I’m still a virgin at twenty-two is because my family life was pretty complicated for a while and I just didn’t have the time to date like the other girls in school.’
‘Complicated how?’ he asked before he could stop himself.
This was just a booty call. But he’d already taken it to the next level with his freak-out... And he was desperately curious to know, why hadn’t she slept with anyone before him? When she was such an eager, artless and enthusiastic lover?
She shrugged. ‘It’s kind of a boring story...’
‘We’ve got time,’ he prompted.
