cleavage. “TV, newspapers, blogs, tabloids. I get my news anywhere and everywhere.”
“No, I haven’t done anything newsworthy.”
“Crystal, they are playing our song,” Omar said as he wrapped his large hand over his wife’s wrist. “It’s time to hit the dance floor.”
* * *
Sebastian watched Ashley as her frown deepened. She hadn’t spoken much. She had stood at his side, but he knew she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings.
Was she was thinking about tonight? How she would lose control in his arms? She had no idea that he also couldn’t stop thinking about the magical night that lay ahead. Or that he would make sure she lost control before he did.
He didn’t know how much longer his restraint would last. Having her close to him, touching him, was a test. He was careful not to stroke her skin or allow his hand to linger on the curve of her hip. Once he started, he wouldn’t stop.
He tightened his hold on her waist. “Smile, Ashley.”
Ashley gave a start and then glared at him. “I am smiling.”
“No, you’re not.” He dipped his head and pressed his mouth against her ear. She shivered with awareness and his body clenched in response. “But I know one way I can put a smile on your face.”
She yanked her head back and bared her teeth. “I’m smiling, I’m smiling. See?”
“Can you look less bloodthirsty and more adoring?”
“Why? The only people who looked at me were Omar and Crystal.” She tugged at her short hem again. “Don’t get me wrong, Cruz. I’m grateful that I’m unrecognizable. I can only assume I look like all your other mistresses.”
He’d never had a mistress, but she didn’t need to know that. He didn’t want her to get any ideas that she was different or special. He’d had many lovers, but he’d never had to pay for the exclusive rights of a woman.
“And how much longer do we have to stay here?” she asked.
“Eager for bed, mi vida ?” He certainly was. He hadn’t felt this desperate since he was a teenager. It was difficult to circulate among the crowd when he wanted to drag Ashley to his bedroom.
She clenched her jaw. “No, I’m tired of acting like I know what’s going on. Your guests talk about people I don’t know and places I haven’t been. I wasn’t aware that you were raising money for a charity until you talked that socialite into giving double. Where is the money going?”
“To my old neighborhood,” he said tersely. He briefly closed his eyes as he tried to banish the memory of graffiti-stained walls and the stench of rotted garbage.
She sighed. “Can you be a little more specific?”
“You wouldn’t recognize the address. It’s the ghetto,” he said with a hint of defiance and anger. He should have had the idyllic childhood that Ashley had enjoyed. While her life had been luxurious and carefree, his days had been difficult and unsafe. He’d had to fend for himself and his family and there were many early days when he had failed.
He’d left the ghetto years ago, but he had honed his survival instincts in his old neighborhood. Stay alert, know how to fight and shut down any potential threat before it gained power. Those rules helped him in the streets and in building his empire.
Her eyelashes flickered. “You’re right. I don’t know where that is, but only because I don’t get out much. And the money is for...?”
“The medical clinic,” he said slowly as he watched her expression. She showed no pity or fear. No disdain about his background. Just polite interest. Considering her sheltered and privileged life, Sebastian wondered if she understood living in the ghetto was like a prison term.
He grabbed her hand, ignoring how it fit perfectly in his, and led her out of the VIP section. “Let’s dance.” He couldn’t wait anymore. He needed to feel her curves flush against his body.
Ashley froze and dug her heels in. “I don’t dance.”
Sebastian stopped and turned around. “You don’t dance.
“No, I haven’t done anything newsworthy.”
“Crystal, they are playing our song,” Omar said as he wrapped his large hand over his wife’s wrist. “It’s time to hit the dance floor.”
* * *
Sebastian watched Ashley as her frown deepened. She hadn’t spoken much. She had stood at his side, but he knew she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings.
Was she was thinking about tonight? How she would lose control in his arms? She had no idea that he also couldn’t stop thinking about the magical night that lay ahead. Or that he would make sure she lost control before he did.
He didn’t know how much longer his restraint would last. Having her close to him, touching him, was a test. He was careful not to stroke her skin or allow his hand to linger on the curve of her hip. Once he started, he wouldn’t stop.
He tightened his hold on her waist. “Smile, Ashley.”
Ashley gave a start and then glared at him. “I am smiling.”
“No, you’re not.” He dipped his head and pressed his mouth against her ear. She shivered with awareness and his body clenched in response. “But I know one way I can put a smile on your face.”
She yanked her head back and bared her teeth. “I’m smiling, I’m smiling. See?”
“Can you look less bloodthirsty and more adoring?”
“Why? The only people who looked at me were Omar and Crystal.” She tugged at her short hem again. “Don’t get me wrong, Cruz. I’m grateful that I’m unrecognizable. I can only assume I look like all your other mistresses.”
He’d never had a mistress, but she didn’t need to know that. He didn’t want her to get any ideas that she was different or special. He’d had many lovers, but he’d never had to pay for the exclusive rights of a woman.
“And how much longer do we have to stay here?” she asked.
“Eager for bed, mi vida ?” He certainly was. He hadn’t felt this desperate since he was a teenager. It was difficult to circulate among the crowd when he wanted to drag Ashley to his bedroom.
She clenched her jaw. “No, I’m tired of acting like I know what’s going on. Your guests talk about people I don’t know and places I haven’t been. I wasn’t aware that you were raising money for a charity until you talked that socialite into giving double. Where is the money going?”
“To my old neighborhood,” he said tersely. He briefly closed his eyes as he tried to banish the memory of graffiti-stained walls and the stench of rotted garbage.
She sighed. “Can you be a little more specific?”
“You wouldn’t recognize the address. It’s the ghetto,” he said with a hint of defiance and anger. He should have had the idyllic childhood that Ashley had enjoyed. While her life had been luxurious and carefree, his days had been difficult and unsafe. He’d had to fend for himself and his family and there were many early days when he had failed.
He’d left the ghetto years ago, but he had honed his survival instincts in his old neighborhood. Stay alert, know how to fight and shut down any potential threat before it gained power. Those rules helped him in the streets and in building his empire.
Her eyelashes flickered. “You’re right. I don’t know where that is, but only because I don’t get out much. And the money is for...?”
“The medical clinic,” he said slowly as he watched her expression. She showed no pity or fear. No disdain about his background. Just polite interest. Considering her sheltered and privileged life, Sebastian wondered if she understood living in the ghetto was like a prison term.
He grabbed her hand, ignoring how it fit perfectly in his, and led her out of the VIP section. “Let’s dance.” He couldn’t wait anymore. He needed to feel her curves flush against his body.
Ashley froze and dug her heels in. “I don’t dance.”
Sebastian stopped and turned around. “You don’t dance.
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