Filthy Rich Read online

  “What’s Alex pursuing?”

  “Something personal.”

  “Is this about little Cara Michal?”

  “It’s about me and my personal privacy,” he said.

  Deena smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  —

  Cara worked nonstop all afternoon. When she finally stopped she had a kink in her neck and the sun had already begun to dip low in the sky behind the massive glass-and-steel skyscrapers that lined the street. Her stomach growled and she looked at the time on her computer. It was already close to seven. The time Branden had said he wanted her at his place for a dinner date. No way.

  She still hadn’t eaten anything and the two bottles of water she drank weren’t keeping her full any longer. Her head was even beginning to feel a little light.

  After kissing Branden, she’d avoided leaving her office all day, but she was going to have to go find something to eat before she passed out. She’d made up her mind for sure somewhere around three o’clock that she absolutely would not be making an appearance at his apartment at seven, even for a quick drink and conversation. It was borrowing trouble and she had enough already. She picked up her bag and switched off her computer and her office light and headed out for the night. She’d stop at the food cart in front and pick up a bagel or something to tide her over until she got home.

  The halls were quiet, but there was plenty of evidence that not everyone had packed up and left. She heard muffled voices and the whirring sounds of copy and fax machines behind closed doors. She smelled the strong coffee still brewing for those who were planning a long night.

  She slipped into an open elevator, grateful she was alone. That only lasted a couple of floors. On the third floor, a man she barely recognized stepped in. Then on the second floor, two men entered. Cara recognized one of them but didn’t know his name. She thought he might have been at the party at Branden’s place, but wasn’t quite sure.

  They looked at her, then each other as if they were trying to keep from laughing. She ignored them and stared at the buttons until the G finally lit up and the doors slid open. As she exited, one of the men said, “Gotta thank our mutual friend for sending me that video link. I don’t know what the equivalent of an Emmy in porn is, but I’d vote for you.”

  Cara stopped dead in her tracks, shock freezing her bones. She willed herself to keep walking, but she just couldn’t do it. Instead, she turned to face her accusers and studied them closely. They had bags under their forty-something-year-old eyes, broken blood vessels on the sides of their noses that indicated a lot of drinking or a lot of snorting, and bellies that protruded over the top of their pants.

  Nothing she could say would make their lives any more pathetic, she told herself. She finally just turned and left.

  Once she was out on the street she blinked back tears. She’d worked so hard to get where she was, but a whiff of scandal had eradicated her reputation in less than twenty-four hours. Just like her father, she was being unfairly charged and convicted of a crime she hadn’t committed.

  But unlike her father, she wasn’t going to succumb to the pressure and become a victim.

  She couldn’t change what had happened. But what now?

  Tell Branden about the innuendoes? Part of her wanted him to beat the crap out of those little shits, but was that what she really wanted?

  Her father had allowed the gossips to overrun his life. He’d hidden behind lawyers to protect him and had refused to fight to clear his name. She didn’t want that to be her.

  No, she wanted to take charge.

  She wanted to live her life the way she wanted—truly wanted—for a change.

  And that meant Branden Duke.

  But how she wanted him, she wasn’t quite sure. Yes, he’d triggered all her sexual instincts and desires—and then some—but her attraction to him went a little deeper. The way he almost toyed with her, reeling her in as if she were a fish hooked on a line but then letting her go…as if he himself were suddenly the fish and she in charge of the line…that sense of give and take, of trust, that’s what had her focused on him. Not just his drop-dead sexy body.

  And yet what about all the women who’d been photographed draped over him? What about Deena Raj? Jealousy had her stomach turning, and she wondered why.

  Why would she be jealous?

  Why would she care if the man she desired was desired by other women? Wouldn’t that simply confirm that she had excellent taste in men?

  But she knew the truth, even as it rapped her on the head.

  Branden Duke meant more to her than a man whose physique she desired.

  She liked him.

  It was as simple as that.

  There was something compelling about him…something that drew her to him, made her want to learn more, propelled her to seek him out even as the steady part of her mind—the old part of who she was—said to steer clear.

  She liked him.

  She took a deep breath of the crisp night air, feeling reckless and thankful to Tweedledum and Tweedledee back there. They’d convinced her Branden was right—everyone already thought she’d slept with him. That meant she had nothing to lose by going after what she wanted.

  But she had a whole lot to gain.

  Dinner was just the beginning.

  Chapter Ten

  Branden looked at the Seth Thomas clock on the wall over the fireplace in his living room. It was seven forty. He’d already eaten the gourmet meal his personal chef had prepared and had put the remainder away in the Sub-Zero fridge. Time to accept Cara wasn’t coming. Funny how the realization made his chest burn with disappointment.

  Probably for the best.

  Yeah, he wanted to get to know her better—and wanted her in his bed, but she was his employee. Plus, regardless of how strong his attraction to Cara was, he didn’t want a traditional relationship, and she seemed the kind who would. His mother had proven to him the hard way that marriage was a farce. To stand at the top of a church aisle, in front of God and family and community, and promise a lifetime of adoration and monogamy and all that bullshit not once, not twice, not three times, but six fucking times? Sure, some might think him a cynic, but with the divorce rate in the U.S. as high as 40 to 50 percent, he figured he was more a realist.

  His middle sister, Rachel, constantly told him he’d simply never been in love, had never felt that intense draw to another person. During one heated argument, Rachel called him a cynic. He’d disagreed and demanded she get back to her studies. With a smile and a hug, of course. She did, but still would occasionally whisper, “cynic” when she knew he could hear.

  He took his beer and started to head out on the balcony, only to stop when the intercom buzzed. He activated it. “Yes?”

  Nolan, his doorman, said, “Sir, Miss Michal is on her way up.”

  Branden’s heart beat double time and the burn of disappointment that had sat heavy in his chest turned into an inferno of anticipation. “Thanks, Nolan,” he said. He tried to remember when he had been so excited at the prospect of spending time with a woman before. He couldn’t come up with one. Something about Cara had wormed its way under his skin and taken root. Maybe Rachel was right—maybe he was a cynic. Or maybe Cara just triggered the inner horny teenage boy that lived in all men.

  He opened his front door just as the elevator down the hall slid open, slowly revealing Cara to him.

  She was looking at him with those wide blue eyes of hers and he wasn’t sure if it was fear or anger or determination he saw there. Cara had made it clear she didn’t want to sleep with someone she worked for. The fact she was here, even with the worries the Gawker photo and that video had caused her, meant she was as obsessed with him as he was with her. He was glad. He’d never felt the things he felt for her with another woman. Like she was somehow essential to his well-being. Like it wouldn’t matter how rich he was. How close to his siblings. How successful. If he didn’t have her by his side, in his life, he’d be an empty shell.

>   Given his musings about commitment just moments before, that was a problem. But it wasn’t one he was going to dwell on now.

  “I’m glad you decided to come.”

  She stepped off the elevator and walked toward him. Her movements and the look in her eyes were that of a skittish animal, and he willed the elevator doors to close quicker behind her. He was afraid she was about to run out on him. So he waited. Held still. And hoped she didn’t turn and punch the down button.

  She stepped past him and inside.

  He shut the door, then helped her remove her coat, placing it on a hanger in the hall closet before turning around and saying, “I’m sorry. You missed dinner. I thought you weren’t coming, so I ate without you. But I could rustle up something if you’d like. And I can certainly offer you a drink.”

  For a few moments she glanced around the room, looking everywhere but at him, then finally settled down, meeting his gaze. “I wasn’t going to come, you know.”

  And it hit him, hard and warm in the chest. She wasn’t talking about a dinner date. “What changed your mind?”

  Dropping her gaze, she cleared her throat. “I’m not sure you want to know.”

  He reached out and placed a finger under her chin, pulling her head up until she again met his gaze. “Tell me.”

  A deep sigh sent her chest rising, then tension seemed to ebb from her. She nodded. “Fine. But I don’t want you to do anything about it. Promise?”

  Yeah, right. How many times had he heard that line from one of his stepsiblings? They’d always ended up loving it when he beat the crap out of whomever was bullying them. He slid his hand down the column to her neck and the flirty bow on her blouse. He toyed with it for a few seconds, then slid his hand across her shoulder and down her arm, finally stopping to hook his pinky with hers. “I promise not to do anything unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  A smile ghosted across her lips as she stared at their joined fingers. “A few men got in the elevator at D&M with me.”

  “And?” he prodded, but he could see where this was going.

  “And they made references to the video. Referred to a ‘mutual friend’ who told them about it, and I can only assume they meant Greg. They tried to do the male-dominance thing and make me feel like I was the size of an ant. And worth as much as a breadcrumb.”

  Anger tore at him, churning in his gut. Cara didn’t deserve any of this. As a self-made business mogul, he’d grown used to the rumors and innuendoes and paid a great deal of money to keep the nasty shit people made up about him out of the hands of the media, but Cara didn’t have his resources. Or the experience in dealing with this kind of crap.

  But as she raised her chin again and stared at him, a gleam of feistiness in her eyes and strength in her jaw, he realized what she did have was backbone.

  “I take it you don’t want me to go out and defend your honor? Beat the shit out of the assholes?” he guessed, a half smile tweaking the side of his mouth. Because, God, he sure as hell wanted to.

  She grinned back then, her eyes glinting. “You’re sweet. And yes, I did have fantasies of you pounding their asses, but I don’t want you to take them on. Because…”

  He waited.

  “Because their comments made me realize something.”

  “And that is?”

  “People already think I’m sleeping with you.”

  “I’d made that point earlier today.”

  “I know.”

  “What’s changed?”

  Surprising him, she rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. The shock made him freeze for a second, and she pulled back a little, as his heart rate sped up and his breath came out in a harsh rush.

  “What’s changed is that I realized I’ve been following a pattern most of my life. I’ve avoided conflict. Done everything I can to eliminate gossip in my life. Been a good girl. And look where that’s gotten me? A bad reputation, whether I earned it or not. And more important…”

  She slid her body closer to his and he reacted—going hard instantly. But he knew what he didn’t want her to say. Knew he didn’t want her to tell him she wanted to sleep with him because her reputation was already compromised. But he waited…wondered…held his breath hoping that somehow the desire he had for Cara that went beyond the physical was reciprocated.

  “But what I realized was more important,” she continued, her breath a warm hush against the side of his neck, “was that I’d allowed my interpretation of others’ opinions to guide my decisions. I stopped going for what I wanted. I held myself back. And I don’t want to do that anymore.”

  “What are you trying to tell me here, Cara?” he asked, tightening his jaw to stay in control.

  “I’m trying to say that earlier today, I wanted to accept your dinner invitation without reservation. I wanted to get to know you, too, the way you say you want to get to know me.”

  Her hands were now on his shoulders, and her breasts were pressed up to his chest. Her hips were undulating in a slow, sensual rhythm. This didn’t feel like a woman who wanted to eat. He needed clarification.

  “Are you saying you’d like me to fix you a sandwich and discuss politics and religion with you over a glass of wine?” he asked, barely breathing.

  “No,” she said, then gently bit the side of his neck. “What I’m saying is that I want you to take me,” she said, her words breathy. “Take me hard.”

  That was all the encouragement Branden needed. He swept her into his arms and kissed her. As their tongues tangled, he moved a few steps forward until her back was against the wall and he let her slide back down to her feet. Pressing up against her, he kissed her harder and pulled her tighter against him. They kissed like they couldn’t get enough of each other, like the desire between them was finally standing proud, refusing to be ignored.

  As they kissed, he cupped one of her breasts and caressed it through her blouse. Then he let his hand slide down her side to the back of her thigh, lifting her leg off the floor and wrapping it around his hip. He slid his hand to her ass and pulled her in even tighter. She rocked her hips against him.

  His hard cock pressed against her, aching to get out. He slid his hand under her blouse, touching her stomach and causing her body to quiver. His fingers moved over the band of her bra before brushing across her protruding nipples. Then he slipped his hand underneath the band so he could play with her bare breasts. She moaned and bit down on his bottom lip.

  God, he felt like a man who had been in the desert for weeks without water and he’d finally found his oasis. Each kiss and each brush of his hand against her amazingly soft, supple body made him more desperate. He wanted to touch more, kiss more. He wanted more of her, period.

  Their clothes were obstacles he wanted to be rid of. He needed to feel their naked bodies together. He needed to feel those luscious breasts and hard nipples pressing against his chest.

  He let out a growl, a sound he couldn’t recall making before. He undid the two buttons on her jacket and pushed it off. There were too many buttons on her shirt and they were tiny, causing him to fumble. Shaking with need, he grabbed hold of the top of her shirt, right where the bow was, and ripped. Her buttons flew across the floor, causing a tap-tap sound as they did. She didn’t seem to notice. Reaching behind her, he unhooked her bra and tore that off, as well.

  He picked her up again, but this time didn’t nudge her gently against the wall.

  She’d demanded he take her.

  So he would.

  Need riding him hard, he slammed her against it and held her there as she tightly wrapped her legs around the backs of his legs, kicking her shoes off as she did. He could feel her wiggling against him, trying to feel his erection against her pelvis as his mouth covered one of her breasts. She put her hands on the sides of his face and pulled him into her. He took as much of her breast in his mouth as he could while using his tongue to flick and lick and tease her nipple. He was sucking roughly, and he had her pinned tightly against the wall so she c
ouldn’t move. It seemed to excite her because she moaned low and long.

  He vowed he was going to make her scream his name.

  —

  Cara blinked when Branden abruptly set her on her feet. Heat filled her veins, weakening her knees, and she reached for him before realizing he’d backed away only to pull off his shirt. As the fabric slid over his pecs, he was even more gorgeous and ripped than he’d been in that video. She reached out to touch his chest, but before she could, he lowered his head and began to hungrily devour her breasts even as he unzipped her skirt and pushed it down, leaving her in her lacy thong. She shivered, and he manipulated her nipple with his mouth, switching attention from one to the other, working them between his lips before pulling back to flick them with his tongue. Sucking then licking. Sucking then licking. Again and again he repeated the pattern, going back and forth between each of her breasts as if to treat them fairly.

  The harder he sucked and the more he used his teeth, the wetter she got between her legs. She was on fire there, craving the same kind of attention her breasts and nipples were getting. She ran her hands slowly up his arms and down to his chest but he stopped her by grabbing her arms and holding them down as he continued his sweet torment of her nipples.

  She pulled in a ragged breath. God, how was it she’d come this undone with a man? How was it she’d all but ordered him to take her, instead of accepting the drink and snack he’d offered? This wasn’t her. At all.

  But it was, her conscience countered, refusing to let her be dishonest with herself. She’d wanted to be with a bad boy, to be bad, all her life. That’s what her crush on Tony Spokane had been about. And now this gorgeous, sexy, amazing man wanted her.

  She’d held her world so steady all these years. Worked hard to make life better for her, her mother, and her brother after her father’s financial, emotional, and physical collapse. She’d managed to quash the wild side of her, but it had only led to an unwavering feeling of dissatisfaction with her life. And it had taken this man to make her acknowledge that dissatisfaction and do something about it.