All That He Desires (The Billionaire's Seduction Part 2) Read online

  Did I still want him to kiss me again?

  To make love to me again?

  Consequences be damned?

  Oh, HELL yes.

  I’d gotten carried away before, that was for sure. And I wasn’t a girl who got ‘carried away.’

  But I wanted to be.

  Especially if he was the one doing the carrying.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  He smiled and leaned in further.

  “Good,” he whispered back, then kissed me again, so soft and sweet I could have stayed like that forever, with his lips brushing across mine.

  Except a voice over the speaker system broke into the moment.

  “Hope I’m not interrupting, boss, but we’re here.”

  Connor leaned back and sighed.

  “Damn his fast driving.” Then he pressed a button on the console. “Would you get the lady’s door, Johnny?”

  “Sure thing.”

  And seconds later, the limo door to my left opened.

  3

  When I saw the guy who had opened the door, my first impression was Suit and tie – way EXPENSIVE suit and tie.

  My second impression was Huh, Asian guy.

  My third impression was Holy CRAP, he’s got a GUN!

  It was just a glimpse, but I saw the holster under the Armani jacket, and the flash of grey metal. Then the jacket resettled and the gun was gone.

  I froze on the seat, terrified.

  I don’t like guns.

  I’m especially not fond of strange men with guns.

  He looked down at me and extended his arm to help me out of the limo. He was young and handsome, probably Japanese, late 20’s, with longish hair that covered his ears and a neatly trimmed goatee with mustache.

  When I didn’t take his hand, he smiled and looked over the roof of the car. “I think the lady’s scared of me, boss,” he said in a flat, midwestern accent.

  “And well she should be. You’re a very scary person,” Connor agreed. He sounded like he was already outside the car.

  “That’s what you pay me for,” the man laughed.

  I glanced over – Connor’s door was open. I could see him standing next to it, his body visible only from the knees to his chest.

  “I’ll… get out on that side,” I squeaked, and quickly slid across the seat.

  As soon as I was out of the limo, Connor gave me a disapproving look. “You’re not racist, are you?”

  “No!” I cried out, shocked. “No. But – ”

  Here I leaned in, stood on my tiptoes, and whispered as close to his ear as I could. Which was more like me whispering into his shoulder.

  “ – he’s got a gun.”

  Connor’s head dropped back and he roared with laughter. “That’s it?”

  “Isn’t that enough?” I fumed.

  “Well, he should have a gun – he’s my personal bodyguard. Has been for three years.”

  I stared at him, then looked over the limo’s roof.

  The driver smiled at me. “Not that I need a gun.”

  “Lily, let me introduce Johnny Shuto. Not his real name, but that’s what I like to call him.”

  I frowned. Not his real name? ‘Not that I NEED a gun’? This was terribly confusing.

  Before I could get any answers, we were interrupted by new voices.

  “Hello, Mr. Templeton! Do you have any luggage?”

  I looked over to see two crisply dressed valets in white uniforms standing by Connor’s elbow.

  That was when I looked around and gasped.

  The Dubai.

  It was the newest – and most luxurious – hotel on the Sunset Strip, and it had only been open for a few months. Apparently the rooms had been booked solid for six months. Anh and I had watched some E! Channel special on it so we could see all the starlets and their dresses when they showed up for the red carpet gala opening.

  And there was the red carpet beneath my very feet. Velvet. Fifty feet of it, leading to an ornate doorway of gold and glass.

  Somebody on the special had said that the red carpet was replaced every six hours so that it was fresh for new arrivals.

  Anh and I had scoffed at the time. Rich douchebags and their freakin’ overkill.

  Now, up close… it just looked glamorous and beautiful.

  As did everything else.

  The valets’ uniforms. The sheltering ceiling over the circular entrance drive, with its softly glowing lights. The beautifully manicured flowering bushes lining the red carpet.

  And the guests and their cars.

  The circular driveway was filled with two limos, a Lamborghini, a Ferrari, an Aston-Martin, and three BMW’s.

  The men walking towards or away from the cars ranged from extremely handsome to fat and toadlike, but they all looked quite rich. The younger and more handsome guys could get away with expensive T-shirts and high-dollar jeans; the toad-faced ones were dressed in top-dollar suits.

  But the women with them… wow.

  A couple of silicone goddesses in low-cut club dresses. A woman I was pretty sure I’d seen on the cover of Vogue. A girl younger than me, slumming it in sunglasses, baseball cap, torn jeans and a T-shirt, who might have been a famous singer (and the new favorite prey of the paparazzi).

  I was suddenly feeling very insecure, very inadequate, and very out of place.

  There were also two women ‘of a certain age’ walking with the older, uglier men – but though they weren’t young, they definitely had plastic surgery and diamonds on their side.

  Connor was talking to the valets about luggage.

  “Actually, yes – Johnny, could you pop the trunk?”

  Wait – something didn’t seem quite right.

  “Did he just call you ‘Mr. Templeton’?” I whispered to Connor.

  “I think he has me confused with somebody else,” he whispered back. “Don’t blow my cover, okay?”

  “Uh… okay…” I muttered, wondering if this was part of Sebastian’s ‘by any means necessary’ directive. Although the name ‘Templeton’ seemed strangely familiar, and I couldn’t quite pin down why.

  The trunk popped open and Johnny walked around to the back.

  “Let them get it,” Connor said. “Except for the laptop.”

  Johnny nodded, grabbed a computer case, and then stepped aside. The valets pulled three suitcases out of the trunk – one in simple black leather, the other two a matching Louis Vuitton set – and put them on a gleaming cart.

  Johnny grinned as he approached us. “You’re not going to freak out again, are you?”

  As I answered, I noticed that I had unconsciously edged closer to Conner. “I just… don’t normally have men with guns pulling me out of limos, that’s all.”

  He shook his head in mock disappointment. “And here I was thinking it was my intimidating good looks.”

  “Ha!” Connor said, then motioned towards the entrance. “Shall we?”

  Johnny nodded and walked ahead of us towards the lobby entrance.

  Connor took me by the hand and pulled me protectively to his side as we followed along behind.

  Another smiling valet opened the door. Johnny stepped through and scanned the lobby, his eyes darting quickly across the faces within. Then he nodded imperceptibly and stepped to one side so that Connor and I could move past him.

  The entire time, Johnny’s hand was on his abdomen, level with the single fastened button on his jacket.

  Never more than five inches from his gun.

  I shuddered.

  4

  The lobby was magnificent. Opulent. Luxurious. Take your pick of over-the-top adjectives.

  The floor was white marble inlaid with darker patterns of black – maybe obsidian? I had no idea. But the effect was beautiful.

  The chandeliers were round, massive bodies made up of tiny frosted glass cylinders that diffused the light and transformed what could have been cold and imposing into warm and sensual. They looked like grape clusters of long, glass tubes, if that make
s any sense. Or a collection of glass Pan pipes (you know, what the little faun guy plays in Greek paintings?) with light spilling out of them, rather than sound.

  Throughout the lobby were plush leather chairs arranged in small enclaves around short mahogany tables. Here and there a few people waited, texting on their smart phones or reading their iPads. Others held cocktails and glasses of wine as they chatted and laughed. On all sides were gorgeous arrangements of orchids and exotic plants – real ones. Nothing fake in here (except some of the women’s boobs). It was like somebody had transported parts of a jungle into the midst of the most luxurious waiting room imaginable.

  Connor led me along the red carpet, which extended into the lobby and all the way up to the reservations desk on the opposite side. As we passed, I noticed a few heads swiveling around to look at us pass. A couple of mouths fell open. Not everyone, but enough to make me wonder. A lot of the less obvious gawkers were women, whom I guessed were checking out Connor (and which sent an unexpected stab of jealousy through me). The ones whose mouths dropped open, though, tended to be men. And not guys who made my gaydar ping. It was like they were seeing an unexpected celebrity walk into the room.

  Something is very weird here…

  We approached the reservations desk, which was a gorgeous slab of marble trimmed with what might have been gold. I told myself that wasn’t possible… but at a place called ‘The Dubai,’ you never know.

  The woman behind the counter was a stunner. With her smart, perfectly white business suit and her flawless olive skin, she looked like she had just walked out of the pages of Italian Vogue. Again, I was jealous and felt… well… inadequate, to tell the truth.

  The weird thing was, she seemed almost awestruck.

  “Mr. Templeton, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” she said in a very friendly, but slightly panicked, voice.

  I recognized that voice. It was the same tone I used whenever I had to interact with the bigwigs at my company when they came in for meetings. Like, the big bigwigs – the CEO, the COO, the CFO…

  And she called him ‘Mr. Templeton’ again.

  Man, Sebastian sure did his job well… whoever they think Mr. Templeton is, they’re about to mess their pants over him.

  “Please, call me Connor,” he smiled. “Are the rooms ready?”

  I frowned. The rooms? Plural?

  I was confused – but it sure meant something to the bodyguard.

  “Connor, no,” Johnny protested, his face suddenly set and unsmiling.

  Connor’s eyes flitted down to me, then back up. “Johnny – yes.”

  Johnny just sighed. Connor turned back to the supermodel behind the counter.

  “Yes, they are,” she confirmed a little too eagerly as she slid two sets of plastic keycards across the marble countertop. Connor took one, and Johnny took the other. “Of course, you know about the code to get in – ”

  “Yes, I’ve stayed here before,” Connor interrupted. His voice was amused, but also a tad bit annoyed, as though he wanted to wrap this up.

  She blushed a deep scarlet. “Of course. My apologies.”

  I scrunched up my face. What the heck was this chick apologizing for?

  “And the room service – ” Connor began.

  “ – is on its way,” she finished. “As is the luggage.”

  “Excellent. Thank you.”

  “Yes sir, Mr. Templeton. Would you like a bellhop to show you up?”

  “No, we’ve got it from here.”

  “Of course. Have a wonderful stay.”

  She flashed her smile at him, then at me, and bowed just slightly at the neck. I smiled back at her, and then Connor pulled me away from the desk and toward the elevators.

  I’m sure it was fairly normal to get gold-standard service at a super-posh hotel, but her vibe was odd. It was like she was talking to Bill Gates, or the President, or Jesus or something.

  Weird, weird, WEIRD.

  “Does everybody kiss your ass all the time?” I whispered to Connor.

  He laughed loudly. “Not you, apparently.”

  “Is that why you brought me along? To remind you of what normal human interaction is like?”

  “You mean, without a pair of lips puckered on my posterior?”

  “Exactly.”

  He gave me a sly look. “We’ll see about getting them puckered around something else later on.”

  I blushed and smacked him on the arm. He just laughed again.

  The elevator door slid open. From that last comment – and from previous experience in the elevator at Exerton about an hour ago – I was a little concerned about what Connor might try inside. But Johnny stepped in with us, and I was relieved.

  And a little bit disappointed, to tell the truth.

  The interior was gorgeous, with dark, paneled wood and marble flooring. The control panel looked like it was obsidian, except for the 18 buttons for the various floors, which were pearl inlaid with gold numbers.

  Connor hit the top one – which didn’t have a number. Just the letter ‘P.’

  The light blinked, and he inserted one of the cards the front desk supermodel had given him into a slot in the obsidian panel.

  The light stopped blinking and glowed brightly, and the elevator started moving.

  My eyes bugged out. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “About what, the penthouse?”

  I nodded.

  “Nope, not kidding.”

  I looked over at Johnny, as though asking him to confirm it was all just a joke. He shook his head grimly. “Unfortunately, no.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean, ‘unfortunately’?”

  Connor grinned. “Because he has to stay in the little kid’s room across the hall.”

  “The little kid’s room?”

  Johnny sighed. “Every penthouse in – ”

  Connor coughed.

  Johnny paused, then resumed again.

  Okay, THAT was weird…

  “…in a lot of hotels have a secondary residence nearby… for security details.”

  “For you, you mean,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “Why is that a problem?”

  “Because Johnny doesn’t want me to wipe my ass without him standing outside the door,” Connor smirked.

  Johnny just rolled his eyes.

  “That’s a pleasant image,” I said sarcastically.

  Connor gave me a look like I had something nasty on my face. “I didn’t know you were into stuff like that…”

  I hit him again on the arm. “Gross! Shut up!”

  He laughed.

  “Seriously, Connor,” Johnny said, “I’d feel a lot better if – ”

  “No. I want my privacy tonight.”

  “But – ”

  “NO, Johnny.”

  His voice was cold, his expression commanding. A chill went down my spine.

  Johnny just sighed again. Apparently he was used to losing a lot of battles this way.

  “You’re the boss.”

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  “Be nice,” I said, nudging him.

  He looked down at me, amused. “Why should I?”

  “Because he’s just looking out for you.”

  The elevator door dinged and slowly opened.

  “Remind him of that someday when his ass gets killed,” Johnny said to me, then stepped out into the hallway and looked in both directions.

  “What does that mean?” I asked Connor, a little worried.

  “It means Johnny’s overprotective, is what it means. Coast clear?”

  Johnny nodded, and we stepped out.

  It was a short hallway, only about twenty feet long, but it was incredibly beautiful. Thick, luxurious carpet… dark wood paneling… another, smaller chandelier casting its soft light from the ceiling… and a massive mahogany door across from the elevator. Next to the door was a tiny obsidian panel, like a baby version of the one in the elevator, with a gold keypad next to it.

>   “I’m checking out the room first,” Johnny informed us.

  “Fine, as long as you don’t stay,” Connor said.

  Johnny shook his head like Why do I put up with this?, then inserted one of his cards into the panel. A red light blinked, and he tapped out a code on the gold keypad.

  The light turned green, and Johnny pulled out the card, opened the door, and stepped inside. He was gone for about fifteen seconds, and then he came back to the door. “Coast is clear.”

  Connor led me inside by the hand.

  5

  The inside of the penthouse was entirely different from the hotel, but no less amazing. Maybe even more.

  The first thing that hit me was all the glass. As in, almost every wall had at least one gigantic window that was at least thirty feet long. The city lights sparkled outside like diamonds on black velvet. I walked over and gazed down at Sunset Boulevard. Two hundred feet below, club-goers marched along the sidewalks like little columns of ants, and the jam-packed traffic moved along an inch at a time.

  On the opposite side of the massive apartment, I could see the Hollywood Hills. In case you haven’t been to LA, just north of Hollywood is a very, very small mountain range that extends for about four or five miles. And on its slopes are some of the most expensive homes in Los Angeles outside of Beverly Hills and Bel Air. A lot of young, hip actors and directors and producers live up there – along with real estate moguls and doctors trying to be young and hip. Plus the occasional drug dealer, from what I’ve heard. But no matter who owns them, they shine like fairy houses in the darkness, tiny outposts of luxury on curving roads and steeper hills.

  I stood there, entranced. Los Angeles can be an ugly place – brown and dry in the summer months, overdeveloped with a thousand grungy strip malls, packed to the gills with way too many people. But seen up here, with the patterns of lights stretching far in the distance… it was magical.

  “Want a drink?” Connor called from the fully stocked bar in the corner of the room. From what I could see, it was all top shelf stuff.

  “Actually, I need to use the little girl’s room to freshen up. Where…?”

  Connor pointed to the left. “Back through the bedroom.”