His Inexperienced Mistress: Girl Behind the Scandalous Reputation / The End of her Innocence / Ruthless Russian, Lost Innocence. Sara Craven
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floor.
Apparently his father required his presence most urgently.
For a second Lily’s dazed disappointment had only been outweighed by his own. Then he’d realised what he’d nearly done and been appalled at himself. She was his little sister’s friend, and the erotic images playing through his mind were highly inappropriate.
He remembered he’d abruptly released her and curtly told her not to bother him again, that he wasn’t interested in babies. And then she’d punished him by attaching herself to some Armani suit for the rest of the night like ivy on a brick wall.
One of the businessmen hooted a laugh, and the sound broke Tristan’s unwanted reverie.
He closed his eyes briefly to recompose himself, and then made the mistake of glancing into the mirror behind the bar—where his gaze collided with Lily’s.
For a split second something hot and primal arced between them, and then the pink tip of her tongue snuck out to douse her full lower lip and just like that he was hard again.
Damn. Had she done that on purpose? Had she known what he’d been thinking about?
He blinked slowly and turned his gaze as hard as his groin. He wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t going to let her use that come-hither look she’d probably learned in the cradle to manipulate him. The sooner she figured that out, the better for the both of them.
‘I don’t care what you did or didn’t know. You signed the forms and now we’re leaving.’
‘Wait.’ She put her hand out to touch him and then snatched it back just as quickly.
His jaw clenched. ‘What now?’
‘We need to sort this out.’
He picked his jacket up off the stool and shrugged into it. ‘It’s sorted. I’m in charge. You’re not. So let’s go.’
‘Look, I know you’re angry—’
‘Is that what I am?’ he mocked.
‘But,’ she continued determinedly, ‘I didn’t know I had that…stuff in my bag.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper. ‘And I’m not going with you until I know what happens next.’
Tristan glanced at the ceiling, hoping some divine force would penetrate it and put him out of his misery. He knew she had a headache. He’d known the minute he’d seen her. And now she was giving him one.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ he groaned.
‘No, I’m not. I mean it, Tristan; I won’t let you push me around like you did six years ago. Back then—’
‘Oh, cut the theatrics, Honey. There’s no camera to turn it on for here.’
‘Lily.’
He stared at her for a beat.
‘And I’m not—’
Tristan glared at her and cut her off. ‘You think I like this any more than you do? You think I didn’t rack my brain to come up with an alternative? I have just involved a good friend of mine to get you out of this mess and all you can do is act the injured innocent. You broke the law, not me, so stop behaving like I’m the bad guy here.’
Lily seemed to lose a little steam over that. ‘A friend?’ she whispered.
‘What? You thought I could just stroll up here myself and demand your release? I’m flattered you think I have that much power.’
Tristan glanced around the bar and saw that more passengers had entered. They were getting far more attention than he was comfortable with.
‘He won’t go to the press, will he?’ she asked.
Tristan shook his head. ‘So typical of you to be worried about yourself.’
‘I wasn’t worrying about myself,’ she snapped. ‘I was thinking about how this might impact Jordana’s wedding if it gets out.’
‘A bit late to think about that now. But, no, he won’t say anything. He has discretion and integrity—words you’d need to look up in a dictionary to learn the meaning of.’ He shook his head at the improbability of the whole situation. ‘For God’s sake, it’s not as if you couldn’t get a fix here if you were so desperate.’
She looked at him from under her cap. ‘Whatever happened to being innocent in this country until proven guilty?’
‘Being caught with drugs in your bag sort of makes that a moot point,’ he scoffed.
Lily’s chin jutted forward. ‘Aren’t lawyers supposed to be a little more objective with their clients?’
‘I’m not your lawyer.’
‘What are you, then? My white knight?’
A muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘I’m doing Jordana a favour.’
‘Ah, yes. The big brother routine,’ she mocked. ‘I seem to recall you really enjoy that. It must have made you feel valued—rescuing Jordana from my disreputable company all those years ago.’
She wrapped her arms around her torso in a defensive gesture that pinched something inside him, but he refused to soften towards her. He had no respect for people who created a demand for drugs and hurt those around them by using, and all today had done was confirm his father’s view that Lily Wild was bad news just waiting to happen.
‘It’s just a pity I didn’t nip your friendship in the bud sooner. I could have saved my family a lot of embarrassment.’
That seemed to take the wind out of her sails and he almost felt bad when her shoulders slumped.
‘So what happens now? Where will I be staying?’ she asked.
Tristan pulled a wad of notes from his pocket and threw some on the bar. ‘We’ll discuss the ground rules later.’
‘I’d like to talk about them now.’
He turned to her, what little patience he’d started with completely gone. ‘If I have to pick you up and cart you out of here I will,’ he warned softly.
Her eyes widened. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
Tristan crowded her back against the bar stool again. ‘Try me.’
She inhaled a shaky breath and put her hand up between them. ‘Don’t touch me.’
Touch her? He hadn’t really intended to, but now, as his gaze swept down her curvy body, he realised that he wanted to. Badly. He wanted to push aside that cardigan, slide his hand around her waist and pull her up against him until there was no sign of daylight between them. Until she melted into him as she had done six years ago.
‘Then co-operate,’ he snarled, crowding even closer and perversely enjoying her agitated backwards movement. It wouldn’t hurt her to be a little afraid of him. Might make sure she kept her distance this time.
‘I’m trying to.’
Her eyes flashed, and the leather creaked as she shifted as far back on the stool as she could, her monstrosity of a bag perched on her lap between them.
Tristan leaned forward and hooked his foot on her bar stool, jerking it forward so she was forced back into his space. He caught her off guard, and his bicep flexed as she threw her hand out to balance herself. Her breath caught and her eyes flew to his.
‘No, you’re not. You’re trying to bug me.’ He watched as colour winged into her face, his eyes narrowing as she snatched her hand back from his arm. ‘And it’s working.’
She raised her chin. ‘I don’t like your controlling attitude.’
He stilled, and their eyes locked in a battle of wills: hers bright and belligerent, his surprised but determined. His nostrils flared as he breathed her in deep. She smelled of roses