She all but ran to the elevator.
It wasn’t until she was encased in the stainless steel box that she let out a deep breath. It nearly turned into a sob, but she stopped herself from being too hurt. She should have known that a man like London Warwick, who had every privilege and access to more money than god, would be a prick.
She had been fooled by his pretty face. By his insanely lickable body. By his keen intellect.
But no more.
The war was on. She would save London Warwick from himself, get paid, and never let her heart be involved with the likes of him.
Chapter Five
London
No sooner was his mother gone, than London made his way to the gym that took up most of the second floor of his building. He had run a few miles, he had pumped some iron. He had even gone so far as to do laps in the Olympic-sized pool. Nothing was working. He was still entirely too pissed off to head into work.
His boss should never have disclosed the intricacies of his career with his mother. But that wasn’t entirely true. The Warwicks had invested in the museum for hundreds of years. Johanna had every right to know how her interests were faring. It just so happens that her wayward son was the one leading the Early Modern Period wing of the museum down a bad path.
With a loud grunt that made one of the other gym occupants jump, he went back to his penthouse suite to shower. The hot spray was pelting his skin, and he even let his dragon fill the room with steam. The warmth was comforting and soothing, but it was all a frail attempt.
He knew why Johanna’s visit had been so painful.
London was very much aware that he was on a self-destructive path, but he didn’t know how to stop himself. He had to find a way back to his priorities, to himself. Was it his fault he was thoroughly bored with life? The sound of the doorbell echoed, and he swore. James had gone back home, leaving him to answer his own damn door.
With another swift curse, London wrapped a towel around his waist and made his way to the front door. He swung it open and nearly dropped his towel.
Standing in front of him was a tiny, curvy beauty.
Mate.
His dragon, a beast he had been neglecting as of late, had to be mistaken. There was no way his mate had just knocked on his front door looking so delectable. He could have unwrapped her slowly like the most precious, sexiest gift he had ever received.
Not that he would actually mate her. There were too many things in life to get bogged down by silly things like mates. That had been fine for his parents, but it wasn’t the life London wanted for himself. He liked his freedom. He liked being able to savor his multiple love affairs. If he could get bored of a different partner every night, what would it be like to fuck the same woman every night?
Even if the woman who stood in front of him was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, he had made his decision a long time ago.
No mating.
The lovely stranger was wrapped in a tight pencil skirt and pink blouse. London inhaled deeply. He would have put his hand in fire that she was wearing garters. He could all but imagine the tiny straps holding stockings on the brunette’s smooth legs. The garter belt would be sitting at her curvy waist, waiting for his fingers to flick it off. Oh, he was sure she was wearing a present just for him. If he focused, which he did, he could see the outline of the undergarments under her tight skirt.
He had to smile to himself. It would do him no good to get an erection just then. All that he had to protect the sight of his hardening manhood was a towel swung low on his hips.
“Can I help you?” He had hoped to sound interested, but the bored, cocky tone he was used to using was back.
Her eyes, wide and doe-like, were not quite hazel and not quite green. They were something in the middle. Something entirely new. Something completely her. Her wide mouth and full lips were pulled into a smile that lit up her entire face.
London didn’t want to admit it to himself, but she was by far the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.
“You must be London Warwick.” She held out her hand for him to shake.
His brain was lagging, and he forgot what he was meant to do.
Shake her hand, you idiot, his dragon huffed, a puff of annoyed smoke curling out of its nostrils in his mind’s eyes.
Right.
Shake her hand.
There could be absolutely no danger in touching her. Could there?
“Miss Russo.” His voice was gruff.
It made Bethany flinch, and London wanted to kick himself for being such a brute. Wasn’t he the seducer of women? Wasn’t he the suave, sleek Warwick who could tempt any woman into his bed?
He was.
Yet there he was, nervous for the first time in his life. He didn’t like it, not in the least. He especially didn’t like that he was making a bad impression on his mate. Shouldn’t things be simple with his mate? Couldn’t she feel the electric current passing between them? It was making the flames of his soul reach out to her. It was impossible to quiet down his dragon.
She came into the apartment, and they discussed a few things. They argued, which made him hard. It was a good thing he was sitting down, or the delicious Miss Russo would have noticed.
Their verbal sparring was fun, but he knew his dumb mouth would get him into trouble. He tried to quiet himself, but London was vaguely aware that his mouth was still moving. That he was still going on like it was the most natural thing in the world to explain to his mate just how much he could tell about her desire for him by the way she was smelling. His tongue had a mind of its own, and it was no longer attached to his brain. “I knew you wanted to climb onto my dick the second I opened the door.” He winked at her.
Well, fuck.
He regretted the words the moment he had spoken them out loud. He had pushed too hard and been too crass. He should have known. And to top it all off, Bethany knew his mother. With his luck, Johanna Warwick was going to waltz back into his home to give him a piece of her mind.
London had really messed up.
Bethany Russo, the curvy, delicious woman, gave him a proper take down. He listened to every single word that left her beautiful mouth, and when she stood to leave, he watched her go. He knew he should stop her. He knew he should try to rectify the situation. He had been rude, and he had been exactly who he was no longer supposed to be.
Wait, no. That wasn’t right.
He shook his head, completely confused. He was the playboy, but he was also the intellectual who enjoyed spirited and educated debates. He loved sex, but he also found it empty lately, as he spent his nights with a new woman.
If he could verbally spar and then have sex with the same woman, a woman like Bethany Russo, who gave as good as she got, could he be happy? Could it curb his boredom?
Yes, you idiot, his dragon roared. You fucked this up for us. Fix it.
London had to figure his shit out if he was going to go around, telling nice public relations women to ride his dick. He shuddered at the memory of it.
He ran a hand over his chin, trailing it to the back of his neck. He got to his feet and lumbered over to the small table where Bethany had placed her business card. He picked up the thin piece of paper. It wasn’t the thick cardstock material he had been expecting. That could only mean that Bethany’s PR company was a fledgling venture, and she didn’t have the capital to spring for the very good cards.
It gave him an idea.