Branded (Strand Brothers Series Book 1) (31 page)

As I stood there lost in my musings, in walked an impeccably dressed tall, thin man. He held out his hand and introduced, “I am Adrian, your personal assistant, Mrs. Strand.”

I was utterly speechless for a moment; finally, I shook hands with the man. “How do you do?”

After the awkwardness passed, Adrian brought me up to speed on the projects at hand, along with the meetings I had scheduled for the next day. I was apparently to take a look-see of our hotel down by Fisherman’s Wharf in about an hour. Once he left, I sat down, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Unsure if I could pull this off with no hands on experience behind my belt. Yet if I was anything, I was tenacious. Time to dig my heels in and make things work. And that was just what I began to do.

When Adrian buzzed in and reminded me of the tour I was supposed to take of our local hotel, I was surprised. Thankful I’d had the presence of mind that morning to wear business attire; subsequently, I donned my Dona Karan blazer and left the office.
Time to take the bull by the horns,
I thought as I made my way to the waiting Bentley.

*****

There was no hiding my exultance over this city. I took everything in on our drive down to the wharf. The tourists were thick, but not like they would’ve been during the right season. We pulled up in front of the valet, and I was instantly greeted by the manager, Mr. Greenfield, who escorted me from the car and inside to the lobby.

As I entered the extravagant hotel, my breath stopped for a moment. I looked around furtively for a name of the grandiose structure; finally, I spotted the name over the splendid registration area. Not surprised in the least to see the Strand name, big and proud, in elegant script of gold filigree. My curiosity could no longer be held at bay when I turned to Mr. Greenfield and queried, “Has this always been called The Strand?”

“Why, no,” he replied. “We recently underwent a name change.”

“I see.” As politely as possible I inquired, “Is this, by chance, the old Fairmont?”

“Yes, it is. However, it has undergone many improvements since Strand Industries purchased it.”

I knew it! While I kept my emotions in check, I continued, “And, how long ago was that?”

His smile was a bit bewildered, but he answered, “About a year now.”

Thank you, Jesus.
For a moment, I thought Nik had acquired the property once he knew where I was supposed to be working. That was before the whole Caleb debacle altered my life forever. Of course, it was hard to be upset about that when it led me to Nikko. I glanced down at my diamond wedding ring and smiled. The knowledge that he hadn’t changed a thing since his mother wore it made me happier than I thought possible. Nik’s sentimentality and his strong connection to family was some of the things I loved most about him.

Mr. Greenfield pulled me back from my reverie when he stated, “I was hired on when an unexpected change caused the
would be
manager from accepting the position.”

I hid my knowledge of just
who
that was supposed to be. “You don’t say? I do hope it wasn’t anything terrible,” I said in mock innocence.

“Oh, no, ma’am. Although I was not privy to the details, I was reassured all was well with her. It was simply a change of plans.”

“Thank goodness. I would’ve hated to hear otherwise.” Again, I offered up a prayer of gratitude that no one had been talking behind my back. The only thing they were told was pertinent information.

“As would I, Mrs. Strand.” I could see the sincerity in his eyes. He gently motioned for me to precede him. “Shall we continue our tour?”

“Yes, please,” I responded with genuine enthusiasm.

After about an hour or so, I had seen all there was to offer of The Strand. It truly was a marvelous, five star hotel. Mr. Greenfield had been most accommodating with each and every detail to the place, as well as the surroundings. Though my plans had been severely rearranged, the reality was that, now, I was in charge of this lovely place and others like it. My heart soared with the knowledge. I couldn’t wait until that evening to thank my husband properly.

*****

Later that afternoon, I arrived back at the spectacular office building. Once I was ensconced in my office, I took my time going over reports. So when Nik stood there, his huge shoulder leaning against the doorjamb and his massive arms crossed over his muscular chest, I startled. “Is it time to leave already?” I asked surprised.

He grinned, “No.” My brow arched, so he clarified, “It’s past time, lille.”

I glanced down at the time on my computer screen and gasped, “Eight o’clock. Where has the time gone?”

Nik sauntered in, closing the door behind him. “You’ve been a busy bee today.”

“Yes. Well, I do have to earn my keep.” Conspiratorially I whispered, “You see, the boss is a tyrant.”

The desire in his eyes caused his pupils to dilate. His nose slightly flared while he continued to stalk towards me. His voice, low and deep, rasped, “I hear he really knows how to
ride
your ass.”

My breath hitched as I bit my lip. Holy hell. We were going to get
busy
in this mostly glass office. I had never really been one for exhibition sex—wait, have I said that before?—but the thought of it with Nik did things to my insides.
Oh, we had come close to getting caught on that hammock in the Caribbean, but not like this.
My core was molten lava as he went to his knees in front of me. While I held his gaze, I seductively responded, “Yeah, he does. Though I’d be a liar, if I said I didn’t like
his style
.”

He grunted as he took my mouth with his. Not in a sweet, tender way either, no, it was violent with unadulterated hunger. My nipples strained to reach his chest. His hands roughly traveled up my skirt. When his fingers located my garters, he growled from deep in his throat, causing me to moan. If there was one weakness I’d always had, it was sexy undergarments. With impatience he unsnapped the first one, and then the other.

My silk stockings tore under his demanding fingers. The lacey thong really didn’t have a chance in hell of surviving his ardent pursuit to my slick womanhood. Once I was bare from the waist down, he buried his head between my thighs. His wicked tongue wreaked havoc over my feminine folds. He lifted his head, and I could see my juices coating his lips. He ordered, “Put your feet against the desk.”

When I complied, he purred, “Yeah, just like that.”

He went back to work on my core and rapidly brought me to a soaring climax.

The next thing I knew, he hauled me up out of the chair and commanded, “Bend over the desk, Aimee.”

Omigod! We didn’t have lube. Was he going to…? When he entered my core on a fluid thrust, all my questions disappeared. He was absolute power as he fucked me, hard and fast. He bit down on my shoulder as he came, insuring no one could hear us. Although whether he realized it or not, he’d just marked me. Doubtful he even understood what that meant; however, it took me right over the edge. We eventually put ourselves back to rights and left.

*****

Sleep wasn’t on our agenda when we arrived home that night. Instead, we made love in the shower. Afterwards, we went to find our dinner waiting for us. Mary Alice wasn’t just a master at desserts, she was a remarkable cook no matter what she chose to make. And I admittedly was a bit jealous. I actually liked to cook. Even though I knew I couldn’t hold a candle to her expertise. Nik noticed the change in me as he inquired, “What is it?”

I laughed without humor. “Nothing.”

He reached forward and ran the pad of his finger between my eyes. “This frown is not ‘nothing.’ Tell me, please.”

While I really liked his bossy side, the politeness always won me over. “It’s silly.” I shook my head.

“How do you know I’ll think that if you don’t tell me?”

Well, he had a point there. I shrugged. “I like to cook. But there’s no way I can compete with Mary Alice’s brilliance.”

“Ah, I see. You’re feeling a little jealous.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

He stood and scooped me up into his arms, kissing my cheek, jaw, and then my lips. “I’d love for you to cook for me.”

Still a tad breathless from the unexpected ardor, I panted, “You would? Why?”

He nuzzled my nose with his. “Because it would be an act of love. Mary Alice does it for a living. Yes, she enjoys it. But it is still her job.” He began walking through the house and up the stairs to our bedroom.

I held on to his neck and kissed his stubbled jaw. “I think I get what you mean,” running my tongue along his sculpted bottom lip, “For all intents and purposes, I would be doing it to
bring
you pleasure.”

His breathing was ragged, causing him to half-growl out, “Precisely.”

And that was the end of our conversation for the evening, as we proceeded to make love well into the wee hours.

*****

The next couple of weeks were insanely busy. I was learning the business by trial and error while Nik worked on a merger. Therefore, we didn’t spend more than the evenings together. But we made the most of our time. We were an active newlywed couple, so there wasn’t one night we didn’t make love. Sometimes, it was a few times a night. Okay, maybe we were a bit
overactive.

As I looked back now, I continued to question if what happened next was necessary. Though life didn’t come with do overs, there were times I truly wished it did. Having said all of that, that particular night had gone like the others before it. I couldn’t recall the exact moment it all changed. Completely. As if you were watching the speeding train head directly for the stalled car on the tracks, and there was not a damn thing you could do to stop the impact. You knew it would be bad. Aware, there was no chance of escape. A smart person would’ve screamed, at least closed their eyes, but, no, I chose to watch in abstract horror as my life altered, once again.

*****

We were snuggled under the covers enjoying the aftermath of tremendous sex. By far, one the best experiences we’d ever had. I lay on his chest tracing the brutal, yet beautiful tattoo over his heart. The dagger was downright ferocious in its dark black ink. Though it was the red hearts with the darker crimson blood teardrops I had always wondered about. I felt exceptionally close to my husband, especially at that moment, so I dared to ask the question: “What does this tatt mean to you?”

He instantly stiffened underneath me and gave me an indifferent, “Nothing.”

Bullshit
. I knew better and countered, “Don’t be so enigmatic with me. I am your wife; hence, I have a right to know.”

Well, that pissed him off royally—if the look he shot me was anything to go by.

“I don’t have to tell you shit about me or my body.” His voice was implacable. “Drop it,” he demanded as he sat up, turning away from me.

Oh, hell no. He was not avoiding me on this. I placed my hand on his shoulder and continued, “Stop evading me. I really don’t see what the big deal is.”

He stood and began to walk away. There was no way I was going to tolerate such an action. I darted in front of him, effectively blocking his path. “Tell me,” I demanded. Hind sight, I should’ve been gentler—more understanding. But damn it all, his attitude had pushed me too far. There was no backing down, now.

When he grasped my shoulders, I could feel the tremors wracking his body. Was it temper, or something else? I would never know. “Why can’t you just accept that I’m unable to discuss this with you?”

Exasperated, I blew out a breath. “Because your behavior doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

His nostrils flared as his eyes narrowed. “That’s your perspective. I make perfect sense when it comes to this issue.

“You don’t share crap with me, Nik!” I roared. “So don’t stand there playing all high and mighty with me.” I yanked out of his grasp and held my ground. “I know the dagger was done in prison. You’ve at least told me that much. What’s the rest of the story?” I queried while I placed my hand over the hearts the tip of the dagger pierced.

He recoiled from me like I had burned him. Then nastily he snorted, “You don’t touch me without my permission.”

That did it. Bastard had some serious audacity. I spat out, “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on!” With that, I left the room and stormed down the hall until I reached a guestroom, where I planned on staying. It would be a cold day in hell before I’d go back into the master bedroom with that asshole.

I heard the door slam and then Nik’s heavy footsteps on the stairs.
Good. I hope he doesn’t sleep tonight.
Finally realizing he was somewhere in the huge mansion cooling off, I crawled under the covers and fell into a fitful sleep.

*****

Later, I awoke discombobulated. It took me a few moments to recognize where I was. All of a sudden, I remembered the horrible fight we’d had earlier and decided it was time to make up. I hated sleeping without Nik’s monstrous arms wrapped around me. Let’s face it, I missed him. So I did the most logical thing, I grabbed a robe from the closet and went in search of my wayward husband.

As I walked down the stairs, I could hear the guitar. I padded towards the sound, instantly recognizing the sorrowful tune by Tim McGraw being played. When I peeked in through the crack in the door, I froze.

The sight before me would forever be etched in my mind. Nik sat strumming his guitar while he stared, with tears streaming down his cheeks, at a picture. From where I stood, I couldn’t see who was in it. But when the song changed to the haunting, mournful melody I’d heard him play once before, I had a pretty good idea. Crap! It seemed no matter what I did I would never hold a candle to his dead wife.

I eased away from the room and crept back upstairs. After I carefully closed the door to our bedroom, I grabbed a bag and began to pack a few changes-of-clothes, along with my toiletries and makeup. Once the task was completed, I wiped my tear stained face and then went back to the guestroom I was using. As I composed the note, I once again broke down and sobbed. I pulled myself together and set my iPod on the song by Lunatica. It was as much for him as it was for me.