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  Fallen

  Darcy Dawes

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20: Epilogue

  Copyright © 2019 by Darcy Dawes

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter 1

  Erik

  Sometimes, no matter how hard you try or how much money you have, things simply don’t go the way you want them to.

  Even though I can’t say I especially like the bride and groom, and I hardly know my date at all, by whatever circumstances fate has dealt me I have found myself at a glitzy, expensive wedding reception in the Hamptons in the height of summer.

  I suppose that’s hardly something to complain about.

  And my god, my date is unbelievably gorgeous, so I definitely wouldn’t complain about that, either.

  But when I first arrived in the Hamptons to survey potential land and real estate for a business deal, I had no idea that, two weeks later, I’d still fucking be here. I thought I’d have sorted the property in two or three days, tops, then headed home to New York to my main business headquarters. I had planned for a quick jaunt back to the Hamptons just for the wedding, and that would be it.

  It seems even the best-laid (and most expensive) plans can go awry.

  But as I mentioned, at least my date is beautiful and an absolute firecracker to boot. Rosa Maria Clark, my real estate agent. When I had entered Hampton Properties and asked for their best agent, I certainly hadn’t expected their best agent to simultaneously be one of the most perfect looking women I had ever had the privilege of laying eyes upon.

  Rosa’s usually wildly curled black hair, which until now I had only ever seen kept back cleanly from her face in an up-do, has been meticulously and sleekly straightened and thrown over one shoulder. With her olive eyes and tanned skin, and an incredibly sexy-yet-classy sheer black dress, she looks like a goddess.

  Who said you shouldn’t wear black to weddings? After seeing Rosa, I’d say it should most definitely be allowed.

  Of course she catches me looking at her—I’m not exactly subtle with my I want to fuck you by the champagne tower expression plastered across my face.

  But Rosa can’t simply be a quickie at a wedding. She’s brokering my multi-million dollar property deals, after all.

  I just wish for the love of God that she would broker them faster.

  “You know, if you keep looking at me like that I’m fairly certain my dress will fall off of its own accord,” Rosa muses into my ear, smiling suggestively as she brings a flute of champagne up to her lips.

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Now wouldn’t that be a spectacle. I’m sure the bride would complain about being thoroughly upstaged at her own wedding.”

  “Speaking of, I haven’t spotted her anywhere. You’d think the bride and groom would show up to their own wedding reception.”

  “Or they could have done what I’d do and head straight to their beach house for some rampant—”

  “If that’s what you want to do, then I’m all for it,” Rosa interrupts, all sultry smiles and long, dark lashes.

  God, what I wouldn’t give to fuck her.

  I cough slightly whilst I struggle to pull my head from the proverbial gutter. A twinging, aching feeling in my pants suggests that my cock disagrees with such a change of thought.

  I give Rosa an exaggerated sigh, to which she lets out a soft laugh.

  “Unfortunately, I have to make face until at least the toasts and speeches are done. The groom would kill me if I ran off before that, even if it were to indulge in a woman such as yourself.”

  “Oh, so you want to indulge in me, Erik Storm? Sounds like an idea I can get behind…”

  I don’t miss the blatant innuendo; I quickly down a glass of champagne in response.

  “How are the property brokers doing, anyway?” I ask Rosa as I throw a sideways glance at her. I notice the subtle change in her expression immediately. “You had mentioned that at least the paperwork for that beach front property I wanted for my own use should be ready by tomorrow.”

  Rosa smothers a grimace.

  “I know I said that, but we’re having some difficulty getting in contact with the property owner. Seems he’s gone off skiing to escape the summer heat.”

  “If he hates the heat so much, why own property in the Hamptons?”

  Rosa waves a hand dismissively.

  “As if I understand what you billionaires are thinking of when you throw your money about.”

  I don’t bother correcting Rosa’s very valid, but not entirely true preconception about billionaires.

  Well, it’s certainly true for many of us. Just not necessarily for me…most of the time, at least.

  “So how much longer do you think it’s likely to take, Miss Clark?”

  Rosa frowns slightly at me. “Look, Erik, I’m gonna be blunt. Had I known you were asking me out on a date to continue grilling me about my day job, I would have refused. I just wanted to have a good time…with some good company.”

  Ah, I can be an utter jackass sometimes. Of course Rosa wouldn’t want to be asked out on a date only to discuss work. Nobody would want that. I just can’t help but shake the feeling that Rosa isn’t being as forth-coming as she could be with the property deals.

  For a moment I entertain the idea that she’s deliberately stretching out the deal to see if I’ll fuck her. It’s an irresistible idea.

  But no—Rosa herself said that she makes a living working with stupidly rich billionaires. She wouldn’t risk her credibility for one of them.

  I give her an apologetic smile. “You’re right, of course. I was being an ass. Would you like some more champagne?” I ask, motioning over to the tower of glasses that I definitely want to screw Rosa by.

  She links an arm with mine and nods her head, her beautiful features growing serene as the topic of work is erased from conversation.

  Just as we pick up fresh glasses of champagne, a familiar figure appears close by.

  A wave of dislike washes over me as I realize that it’s Michael Rivers, another of the groomsmen for the wedding. He owns what feels like at least half of the Hamptons, which makes him my unfortunate rival.

  I wish it were anyone but him. I don’t trust Michael; not in the slightest. He always seems to have an ulterior motive for doing anything, no matter how inconsequential that thing may be.

  Rosa watches attentively as Michael makes his way past us, and I wonder for a moment if the man has ever bought property from her. It’s not as if it’s something I had thought to ask before, but then again…the likelihood is pretty high. Resolving to ask her about it in the morning, I slide an arm around her waist to pull her in closer as Michael’s eyes scan over the pair of us, lingering hungrily on Rosa.

  “Don’t let him near you,” I murmur under my breath.

  Rosa barely suppresses a laugh.

  “I can handle myself, you know. Though I do enjoy the whole alpha male thing you have going on right now,” she replies, glancing down at my arm and smirking.

  Michael walks past us without saying hello, however, which I am supremely grateful for.

  I nearly drop my glass when another of the groomsmen comes bundling along, tripping drunkenly over his own feet and narrowly avoiding stepping on my expensive leather shoes.

  He looks up at me with bleary eyes that are slow to recognize who I am.

  “It’z the other billionaire,” the man slurs.

  “John—” I say, suddenly remembering the man’s unremarkable name, “—you seem like you’ve had a bit much to drink. Having a good time?”

  “You fucking bet I am! Have you seen the celebs and bigwigs around here? It’s a total A-list party. And the models!”

  John notices Rosa, then, and his eyes just about pop out of his skull as they take her in. She smiles for him, which he sleazily returns.

  “I see you wasted no time in finding a babe,” he says. “I’m still searching for the perfect bang myself, only…”

  “Only what?”

  John leans in to my face; Rosa suppresses a laugh as I struggle not to recoil from the man’s unpleasantly alcoholic breath.

  “All the booze has gone to my dick. I don’t suppose you have any—you know?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, John,” I reply, though I know perfectly well what he’s implying.

  As if I need fucking Viagra to perform, even when I’m wasted.

  John laughs as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Viagra, Erik, Viagra! Do you have any? I wanna be raring to go all fucking night.”

  “You’ll have to find someone else for that,” I reply, shaking my head. I glance at Rosa, smirking slightly. “I don’t think a single inch of my cock has ever needed a drug to keep it up all night before.”

  “Not even a single inch?” Rosa cuts in, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
>
  “Nope. All twelve inches are ready and raring to go at any moment, no drugs required.”

  John looks at me enviously just as Rosa bites her lower lip and gulps slightly.

  I couldn’t ask for two more perfect reactions.

  John stumbles away to find another source for his precious Viagra as Rosa locks eyes with me.

  “I sincerely hope the speeches happen soon so we can get the hell out of here.”

  I’ve never agreed more with anything in my fucking life.

  Chapter 2

  Rosa

  Ever since Erik Storm not-so-subtly mentioned all twelve inches of his dick, I haven’t thought about anything else.

  To be honest, I hadn’t really been thinking about much else before he mentioned it, either—but at least now I have an exact size to visualize.

  I had agreed to being Erik’s date because, let’s be honest, the guy’s hot. Tall, dark hair, shockingly pale blue eyes. A sharp jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass. And he makes a pretty striking figure in a tuxedo.

  And now I know what he’s packing…damn. You can be sure I won’t be ending this night without banging the guy, first.

  I wouldn’t normally go on a date with a client. In fact, I’d say that not dating my clients is pretty much rule number one. But I’ve been getting on much better with Erik than I had expected to, given my prior experience with guys as rich as him.

  Erik’s blazing drunk friend/acquaintance John blessedly leaves us as soon as it becomes apparent that he’ll find no Viagra in Erik’s pockets.

  “How do you know you’re packing twelve inches then, Erik? You hold a ruler up against a boner one day?”

  Erik laughs raucously at my candor.

  “Would you think less of me if seventeen-year-old Erik Storm had done exactly that?”

  I feel my eyes widen at the thought.

  “You were that big even as a teenager? You must have destroyed your high school sweethearts.”

  “Is being ‘destroyed’ by my dick something that interests you, Miss Clark?”

  “I think I’m grown up enough to survive the encounter…”

  I’m distracted by the sight of Michael Rivers out of the corner of my eye and fight to maintain my composure.

  That’s the other reason I saw no harm in going on a date with Erik Storm—I have absolutely no intention of selling anything to him.

  I’m leading him on, keeping him busy with ‘unexpected’ delays and complications, until Michael has secured the land and properties Erik wants for himself. The only property Rivers doesn’t want is the beach-front house that Erik wants for his personal use…which is the one property that is genuinely delayed.

  Talk about a coincidence.

  Naturally, I have to keep all of this a secret from Erik. To be honest, I had kind of hoped he’d grow frustrated with how slowly things were proceeding and head back to New York so that I wouldn’t have to deal with him personally. No such luck.

  And now, though I’m loathe to say it, I actually like the man. I almost feel bad about leading him astray.

  Almost.

  The commission I’m getting from Michael, as well as the extra money he’s paying me to freeze out other prospective buyers, is more money than I could ever have dreamed of earning just a couple of years ago. It would make the world of difference to my mother, my two brothers, and me.

  So whether I like Erik or not has nothing to do with it. I’m going to use every trick in the book to stall him for as long as Michael needs. Which should only really be a few more days, apparently.

  Which means this is the ideal opportunity for me to have my bit of fun with the stupidly handsome Erik Storm. And why shouldn’t I?

  Our sexual chemistry is so fucking obvious you can practically see it. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone that I’ve been so immediately attracted to as Erik. I’d be a fool to not act upon it before I invariably betray him.

  But he’s an adult, and a billionaire to boot—I’m sure he’ll find a new location to build his shopping mall or resort or golf course or whatever it is he wants to build in no time at all.

  I at least want him to leave with one pleasant memory of me. I wouldn’t have worn this dress and straightened my unruly hair if I hadn’t.

  Well, that and I want him to fuck me so hard I can barely walk in the morning. I guess you can say we both get a pleasant memory out of it.

  “Rosa? Rosa?”

  I blink a couple of times. Had I really been lost in my own head for that long?

  I look at Erik and smile when I see the frown on his face.

  “Sorry. I think the bubbles in the champagne might have gone to my head, just a little. That’s why I usually stick to hard spirits!”

  I laugh, and Erik joins in, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s still a little suspicious.

  Just as I wonder how I’m going to abate that suspicion, the bride and groom suddenly appear by the stage, surprising everyone.

  “About time!” Erik calls out, just as Michael, standing a few feet away, says the same thing.

  The crowd laughs as the bride and groom have the sense to look abashed, then Michael saunters up on stage, silences the band, and proceeds with his toast to the happy couple. When his eyes scan over the crowd and find me, he smiles in a way that begets obvious familiarity.

  I look at Erik; he’s watching Michael with his brow furrowed, then he looks at me.

  Shit.

  “How do you know Rivers, Rosa?”

  It takes me just half a second to work my story out.

  “I’ve worked with the guy before—total asshole, you know. He wanted to buy a house on the beach front but was trying to undercut on the price. He’s got so much fucking money, and he wants to undercut on the price? Ridiculous. He’s not even the first guy who’s walked into Hampton Properties hoping to do the same. You’d think, with that much money, it wouldn’t matter in the slightest whether a few hundred grand is knocked off the property price or not! Anyway, I fobbed him off onto one of my associates. Like I said, he was an asshole. I didn’t want to work with him.”

  Oh boy, I’m good. That lie was flawless and then some. I can tell by the look of relief on Erik’s face that he’s bought every word of it.

  I mean, my excuse isn’t technically a lie. It’s true, for the most part. What I failed to mention is that Michael was so impressed by my stubbornness and refusal to budge on the price that he insisted I broker all of his future Hampton dealings exclusively.

  Erik snakes his arm back around my waist, as he had earlier.

  “He really is an asshole. Sorry for making you talk about work again, even if it was accidental. Now, what was that you were saying about surviving against my undrugged cock?”

  I can’t help but spurt out some of the champagne I had just drank, causing some curious looks from onlookers.

  I jab Erik with my elbow; I feel my entire body heat up when it meets his rock-hard abs beneath his tuxedo.

  “I don’t think that kind of conversation is suitable for polite company, Mr. Storm.”

  “I’m fairly certain most of our conversation tonight hasn’t been suitable for even sometimes-polite company, Miss Clark.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “If I allowed your dick to destroy me in one go, what happens to round two, or three, or four? If it’s as impressive as you’re making it out to be then I want the full package deal. A quickie behind the champagne tower just won’t cut it.”

  Erik bursts out laughing, causing a hawkish woman nearby to shush us in irritation. Erik smiles at her apologetically before turning to murmur in my ear.

  “How did you know I was thinking about fucking you by the champagne tower?”

  “You’ve been eyeing it up the same way you’ve been staring at my dress all evening. Now either you have some very bizarre fetishes, or you’re imagining fucking me on it. I don’t understand the physics behind it in the slightest, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

  Erik leans in a little further and just barely grazes the skin behind my ear with his lips. I shiver in an entirely pleasant way.

  “Then what do you suggest, Miss Clark?”

  I grin wickedly at him.

  “It just so happens that I’m uniquely placed to know about more than a few currently unoccupied—”

  The end of my sentence is cut off as Michael’s speech comes to an end and the crowd raise their glasses to applaud the bride and groom. Erik and I both reluctantly join in, putting on a show about having listened to the speech when in reality we didn’t hear a word of it.