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Chapter One
Isabella
The realtor raves over the recessed lighting, the stunning marble floors, and the copper tub in the ensuite upstairs that is perfect for date night. I hardly hear a word she says, instead staying focused on how often she leans into my lover when she talks. She takes every opportunity to brush Carter’s arm casually, laughing through her words when nothing funny is said and giving me a rather dismissive look whenever he takes my hips in his hands.
I stray from her guided tour, poking my head around the corner into the wide office space with built-in cabinets and storage under the bench by the large front window. It’s not a bad house by any means, but every time I turn around, I catch the petite realtor in her thin heels hitting on the man who hasn’t just saved my life but saved the entire Blackthorne legacy.
Carter catches my eyes for a moment, not even giving this needy woman the time of day. I appreciate his attentiveness in coming to my side in long strides, his black hair tamed with just the right amount of gel. He adjusts the cufflinks on his crisp white shirt, the typical black roses I’ve grown so used to finding lying around the penthouse.
“So, what do you think, Mr. Blackthorne?” the realtor asks, following him as he joins me at my side. She makes no effort to step back a few feet, instead grazing his forearm with her overly manicured nails. “It’s the most luxurious home on the market right now in Manhattan. Fit for a king.”
He looks at me, one of his brows cocked. “You hear that, Bella? Fit for a king. I guess that means this is a decision to be made by a queen, wouldn’t you agree?”
I shrug, exhausted from house hunting and never finding the one that feelsright.
“I don’t know, it’s not really something that I—”
“It’s the hottest home on the market. You won’t find a better deal,” the woman chimes in.
Carter flicks an unimpressed look over his broad shoulder. “You know what? I think we’re done looking for a home with you.”
She perks up, her grin lopsided and hopeful. “So, are you putting in an offer?”
“No,” he responds, speaking through his taut jaw. “I’m going to find a different realtor. One that doesn’t act like a bitch in heat whenever someone with money walks through her office doors.”
Her mouth parts in a rather unflattering shape, her eyes searing with hate and heat, both fueling her frustration as it caresses her posture. She slouches, storming out of the house at once. When we can no longer hear the clicks of her heels, he pulls me in closer to his firm body.
“Now that we’ve settled that,” he purrs, his lips caressing my exposed throat. “What do you really think about the place?”
I hesitate, not saying anything.
“Talk,” he says against my throat. “Say whatever you want, dove.”
“It’s just… this house is so… and we’re just—”
“If you don’t get those words out faster, I’m going to be forced to find a bed in this damn place.”
I snicker under my breath, feeling weightless, like I may float away. He holds me in a way that would prevent that from happening, the sensation of his tongue and teeth trailing against my skin keeping me in place. His hands skim down my sides and settle on the curve of my ass, kneading my backside until there’s a sharp press of his erection pushing through his slacks.
It’s enough to shift my focus from this house to pleasing Carter, but he never makes it easy on me.
“Decide,” he says, speaking through his teeth. “Do you want this house?”
It’s impossible to think straight with his mouth nipping at me like this. I need to focus, to make a definitive decision on this matter, but how can I? He pulls one hand away, bringing it sharply against my ass. It’s enough to make me yelp, my answer pushing through my lips.
“No, I don’t want this house,” I gasp.
He steps back, his thumb stroking the sore spot on my neck. “Alright, then, I guess we should get going.”
My brows pinch in desperate angst. “Wait, that’s it?”
He straightens out his coat, buttoning it up in the middle so it covers the bulge in his pants. I’m happy to see he’s just as on edge, but I hoped to get a little bit friskier before watching him pull away. He hardly seems worried by my question, taking my hand in his as we walk out of the mansion.
The realtor is outside, tapping her foot with moderate impatience. Carter doesn’t even look in her general direction, opening the back door to our waiting SUV and urging me inside. I fall over the seats, but Carter doesn’t mention it, climbing in next before he yanks me upright and plants me right onto his lap.
Ernesto gives us a hopeful look through the rearview mirror. “Well, was that the winner?”
“Not by a long shot,” Carter replies, spreading his legs and, in turn, doing the same to mine. “Take us to my club, Ernesto. We have some business to attend to.”
