Lonzo: Book 2 (Tycoon Series Book 2) (9 page)

He’d taught himself long ago not to get involved with women, unless it was to fuck.

But what he just shared with her was more than fucking. He didn’t imagine it. Something inside him lost control.

What was she doing to him?

He couldn’t get enough of her.

Right now, even with his dick still buried inside of her, he knew that he’d still want her again.

He got himself too deep.

Get dressed. Now. Leave! his mind told him.

But he couldn’t do it.

He wanted her for himself. For an indefinite period.

He wanted to hold her, be with her, have her every night.

He was having trouble remembering the vow he made on his father’s grave.

No woman would make him lose his wits.

No one did. Until he met her.

Jordana.

Her breathing had returned to normal. She stroked his hair slowly, sensuously. It made him feel so fucking good. Hell, everything about her made him feel too fucking good. Even without the sex, just being with her was enough to make his disposition sunny.

Her arms encircled him. Then, her fingers began to slowly stroke his back.

His cock began to grow hard again.

“I wish this night never ends,” he heard her say.

He stilled when an idea hit him.

She can be his woman.

Emotions need not be involved. They can continue like this until he stopped wanting her. Whenever that was, he didn’t know.

“It doesn’t have to end if you don’t want to,” he replied.

Her stroking stopped. “What are you saying?”

“You can live with me in Rome.”

“Why?” she said, her voice cautious.

“A long-distance affair isn’t feasible. If you say yes, I’ll make the arrangements,” he said, propping up on his arms so he can look down at her.

Her eyes grew guarded.

“Wait, wait…you’re asking me to drop everything—my career, my friends, my life in New York to be with you? In Rome?”

“It’s a workable proposition, if you think about it. I can provide for you while we’re together. Your every whim. You can still model if you want. Milan is just a stone’s throw away from Rome. You’ll have the jet at your disposal if you are feeling homesick. I can buy you anything you want—” he pitched.

She didn’t reply. A few seconds passed before she pushed against his chest. He let her move. She swung her long legs at the side of the bed, her back to him.

“What do you think?”

“You’re buying me again,” she asked quietly, before standing up to pick up her discarded clothing. She put them on before turning to leave.

Lonzo jumped from the bed to run after her.

He yanked her back into his arms before she reached the door. She was avoiding his gaze.

He turned and urged her to look at him, raising her chin with his hand.

“I’m offering you to be my partner, Jordana.”

Those were big words coming from him. He never believed in exclusivity.

She just stared back at him.

“Okay then. Let us negotiate. What do I have to do to induce you to accept this partnership?” he asked bluntly.

Jordana schooled her expression to hide the hurt she felt from what he said.

It wasn’t a real partnership like he wanted her to believe.

He was offering her to become his mistress—a glorified whore, a kept woman to warm his bed at night; an arm candy should the need arose.

Until the time he got tired of her and discard her for the next woman. To be thrown away like a dirty, used rag. Like the rest of his women.

No way.

She may love him but she would never allow herself to be treated that way. She deserved to be respected and if she can’t get that from the man she loved, she would rather walk away without a backward glance.

She’d teach him a lesson.

Since he got such a low opinion of her, she’d encourage him to think that way.

She would turn the tables on him. Beat him at his own game.

“Ah, but I don’t come cheap, Lonzo.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

This made her angrier. How dare he judge her!

“Try me.”

“Twenty million euros. Another twenty payable once we call it quits,” she calmly said. It was an outrageous amount and she was sure he will not…?

She lowered her lashes so he wouldn’t see the turmoil she felt.

His eyes scanned her face. “Done.”

She couldn’t believe he would agree to her terms.

But then, this was Lonzo. That amount was probably a drop in a bucket in his vast assets.

The man was a billionaire used to a lot of wheeling and dealing. For him, she was just another business deal. There were no emotions involved.

Time to play him.

“Now,” she said.

He frowned. “What do you mean… now?”

“I mean now. You have to write me a check. Now.”

God, her own words were making her mentally puke.

His eyes glinted in anger before his face became impassive.

“Okay.”

He stood from the bed to get his checkbook from his coat hanging over a chair.

He wrote a check and handled it to her.

It was a cash check for twenty million euros.

She took the check coolly, carefully folded and put it inside her clutch.

“That was fast business. It’s late. I have to go now.”

“Go where?”

“Why, back to my hotel. I have an early morning flight back to New York. Tomorrow’s the final fitting for the Victoria’s Secret show.”

“You are not leaving!”

Jordana stood her ground.

“This caveman attitude has to go if you want us to get along, Vitale. I have obligations to fulfill if I’m to live with you. If you can’t be reasonable, I can tear this check and walk out of here.”

“And lose all that money?”

She shrugged. “I can earn that money in a year’s time—doing lingerie and swimwear shoots.”

She sounded nonchalant. She called the shots this time, not him.

He considered it for a few moments before pulling her back into his arms again.

“You drive a hard bargain, woman.”

“I intend to be on that flight to New York, tomorrow,” she said adamantly.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled the zip down and began to nibble the sensitive area behind her ear.

“Lonzo!” she gasped. “I really need to go!”

He laughed at her outrage. “You’ll be on your way, cara. I’ll take you to the hotel and the airport myself. But not after I’ve had my fill of you tonight,” he said before he swung her over his shoulder and dumped her on the bed.

She sighed before she gave in to her inner yearnings.

This will really, really be the last time, she vowed.

Chapter Five

Victoria’s Secret Runway Show

The Armory, Lexington Avenue

New York City

Her hands were shaky as she adjusted the skimpy fantasy
bra and matching panties she had on. What she had on was the show’s
piece de resistance
. All twenty-million dollars worth of it. It was mighty uncomfortable, though.

She was careful whenever she moved around, keeping in mind that it was a multi million-dollar creation and a work of art by itself. It took an army of jewelers several months to execute the final design. The lingerie was studded with five thousand precious stones--diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires. Which explained the need for armed guards.

She patiently waited backstage. Ten more models would strut their stuff on the catwalk before her cue. It won’t be long.

She could feel herself growing nervous as her time neared.

Calm down, she told herself. She wriggled her hands to loosen up. She absent-mindedly adjusted the huge trademark VS angel wings. This year, the feathered contraptions were dyed black.

Black seemed to be the color of the season, said the fashion insiders.

But fashion was on the bottom of her list. She had a lot of things on her mind. In fact, she was still reeling from the discovery that would complicate her life forever.

Getting up from bed that morning had been extremely difficult. Any sudden movement, no matter how small, made her sick.

The nausea started yesterday. It was so bad that she practically heaved until noon. Luckily it was a weekend so she could afford to stay in bed.

She remembered opening her eyes before she got overwhelmed with the metallic taste of acid and bile. She jumped from the bed and barely made it to the bathroom, where she regurgitated her dinner until there was nothing left to to throw up.

Same thing happened this morning. She was so sick she feared she won’t be able to make it for tonight’s show. Thankfully, her stomach settled after she ate crackers and drank mild tea. Google was a lifesaver.

She was still trying to gather the courage to get herself a pregnancy test from the pharmacy. But even without the results, she knew it in her gut.

She was pregnant. She was going to be a mother.

She wasn’t sure how far along she was because she had yet to see an OB. She would. Soon.

She had all the early signs and symptoms. The missed period, tender breasts, unexplained fatigue, weird food cravings and of course, the dreaded morning sickness.

She closed her eyes and saw Lonzo’s face in her mind’s eye—the way he looked when they parted ways over a week ago. He had been insatiable that day—he kept her up, took her repeatedly until the wee hours of the morning. She kept on yawning and could barely keep her eyes open when she went for the final fitting.

She knew it was wrong for her to take him for a ride, but he made her so angry when he made that offer. All she wanted was to teach him a lesson on valuing people. She intended to donate the money to the charity and orphanages she was supporting in Brazil. Afterward, she would mail the receipts, all under his name, back to him. That was the plan.

But now the situation had changed.

She was going to have his baby.

Even this early, she already loved this growing piece of humanity with a fierceness that astounded her.

The fact that she was expecting was a big surprise. Lonzo was a practitioner of safe sex. Putting on protection was almost a religious act for him. He diligently used condoms when they were on the island. And to minimize the risk, she continued to take her pills.

For all their precautions, this child still came to be.

Will he want his baby?

But in her heart, she already knew the answer.

He probably wouldn’t. He never wanted to settle down. He was extra-careful not to become a father. The media had quoted him numerous times on that subject. He said he had no plans of procreating. His attitude put a lot of doubts on her mind on whether he was emotionally capable of being a father.

For now, she decided to keep news of her pregnancy to herself.

It doesn’t matter if she didn’t have her baby daddy’s support. She didn’t need him in her life and she didn’t need his presence in raising her child. Millions of single moms had done it before. She would be one of them. She would be keeping this baby.

A huge lump formed in her throat when she gently placed her hand over her still flat tummy. Self-pity enveloped her for a moment but she determinedly pushed it away.

Don’t worry, kiddo You may not have a dad…but I have enough love for two. We’ll be all right.

“Places!” the production manager’s voice jerked her mind back to the VS show.

She stood up and made her way toward the runway’s entrance.

The last of the models made their way out.

“You’re up next, J…now, go!”

She drew a long, steady breath. She emptied her mind, tried to find her center.

She took the first step forward, toward the start of the long runway. It was dark at first...her eyes couldn’t see any of the people in attendance. But she knew it was a packed show. This was one of the biggest marketing events on the planet.

Then klieg lights hit her hard. The spotlight almost blinded and made her blink as it began to follow her. Luckily she had enough practice and knew this particular runway like the back of her hand.

Her initial nervousness began to drain from her. Her signature walk was steady and assured, despite the dangerously high Roberto Cavalli glass stilettos she wore.

Another spotlight hit rock god Zeke Blade, lead singer of Torquecrash. He began to sing a stripped-down version of one of his rare ballads.

She smiled as she continued to glide seductively, the sway of her hips was spot on with Zeke’s soulful voice.