Lola rolled onto her side on Brent Corzo’s king-sized bed and stretched like a sleek, satiated cat. Her body was still slick and throbbing from Brent’s recent rough hammering. She lazily glided her fingernail along his rock hard abs down to his groin, grazing him ever so lightly until he grew stiff again. No matter how many times or ways they had sex, she couldn’t get enough of him.
Seven years younger than she, Brent had the tough face of a prizefighter with mud brown eyes, a thick nose and a big ruddy face. He was well over six feet tall, built like a linebacker and hung like a stud. The brutish businessman with money to spare was Lola’s current boy toy, and she was more than ready to play with him again.
I think I’ll keep him, she thought with a cunning smile. The moment Lola had laid eyes on Brent when he’d come to see Randolph about buying the Riviera Hotel, she had set out to seduce him. The predatory way Brent’s eyes had brashly undressed her had made her pulse spike and her thighs quiver. There wasn’t a bigger turn-on than ruthless power, and Brent had it in spades.
The hour she had planned on having sex in the Fisher Island penthouse had stretched to two hours and she was seriously late, but she didn’t care. Her phone had buzzed with calls from Randy, but she’d ignored them. Gazing at Brent’s arousal, she licked her lips, feeling complimented that he wanted to have sex with her again so soon.
They were caught up in a dangerous game of deception, and Lola loved it. She was two-timing Randolph with Brent, who happened to be the owner of the Riviera’s stiffest competition for the Platinum Medal—the Corzo Grand Hotel. The forbidden element and Brent’s rapacious sex drive made her blood roar with excitement.
Lola only pretended to work hard at the Riviera so her husband wouldn’t catch on that she was cuckolding him. Brent was the best lover she’d ever had, and she’d had several during the past seven years since Randolph had slowed down in the bedroom. Her insatiable hunger for Brent was stronger after three months, and she had no intention of letting him go.
“I have to leave,” Lola murmured huskily. She softly blew inside the shell of his ear, knowing full well that he was not going to let her go so easily.
Brent grabbed the finger she’d been circling on him and nipped the tip. “You’re not going anywhere.” The certainty in his tone and the sharp sting of his teeth on the fleshy pad of her finger made her throb with anticipation. He had a cruel streak that matched hers and when he unleashed it on her, she was putty in his hands.
With a shudder, she snatched her finger back. “Ouch. Don’t start that again. I really must get out of here. Randolph’s spoiled brat is in town.”
Brent’s blunt thumb and thick forefinger squeezed Lola’s chin and shoved it up. His eyes impaled hers. “Is she a threat to us?”
“No, she is exactly where she needs to be—under Leo’s thumb. That’s why he bailed the brat’s ass after the Venice disaster and paid off her ‘personal expenses’,” Lola said acidly, bracketing the words with her fingers.
Brent grunted and released her chin. To her delight he grabbed her breasts, his fingertips rough on her nipples. She whimpered when he bit the side of her neck. Gooseflesh spread over her heated body as he continued to manhandle her. A keen breast man, Brent was fixated on Lola’s ample breasts—courtesy of Dr. Sayre’s expertise in implants. It gave Brent perverse pleasure to torment them, making Lola squirm and moan.
“Hey. Don’t mark me,” she chided, half meaning it. She wore his bruises gladly, but she couldn’t afford to flaunt them. “I had a hard time explaining the mark on my thigh last week.” She gave a throaty chuckle and stroked his powerful biceps. “Randolph was steamed when I told him the masseur was too rough on me. He was ready to have him fired.”
Brent laughed in her face, his breath hot and heavy. “I don’t give a damn about your husband. Stop mentioning the old geezer.” He got up from the bed and walked to the dresser. Lola’s avid gaze locked on his stocky build and the way his overly developed thighs and buttock muscles flexed with each step. He lit a cigarette, pulled a deep drag and blew it out forcefully. “What are you doing for Lionel Jove’s arrival?”
Brent expected her to hand over Randolph’s privileged information in exchange for hours of raw sex. To keep him interested and invested in her, Lola had divulged a little at a time. It wasn’t in her best interest to give Brent everything too soon. She would feed him measured amounts and keep him hungry for more.
The Riviera Hotel wasn’t Lola’s and never would be. Teddy was the sole heir and her interests were protected in an irrevocable trust. But Lola was no fool. She’d made sure that Randy let her have the mansion, expensive jewelry, and stocks and bonds. In addition, she had a secret cache stashed away in Switzerland. Her money wasn’t tied up in the Riviera Hotel and it could go up in flames for all she cared.
“Well?” he prompted when she hadn’t answered him.
“We’re still working on it,” she said evasively.
Brent snarled. “Don’t give me that bullshit. What’s the plan for Jove? Tell me or I’ll beat it out of you.”
A dirty thrill shot through her. “Leo’s being secretive about everything. He has a new assistant who is scurrying around like a lovesick puppy. It’s so obvious she has the hots for him, it’s pathetic.”
“Who is she?” Brent’s eyes zeroed in on her with rabid interest.
“Her name is Ashley Springer. Young, eager to please and cute…if you like insipid baby blondes.” Lola fluffed her long, black hair on the down pillow.
“Ashley Springer? Sounds familiar.” Brent frowned. “Yeah, now I remember,” he grunted. “She reached out to me on LinkedIn, but I didn’t follow up with her. Good pedigree and credentials, but she’s too junior for the type of position she wants.”
Lola rolled her eyes. “Exactly what I thought when I met her. The girl is ravenous to make a name for herself. She thinks playing Leo’s devoted slave will get her to the top faster than trying to impress Randolph.” She shrugged. “Smart girl. Randolph is on his way out and Leo is damn good at what he does. He’s here to stay.”
“Keep your legs shut around him,” Brent ordered, pleasing Lola. She loved praising Leo to get a rise out of Brent and make him jealous.
Truth was the arrogant Spaniard had rejected her when she’d tried to seduce him. Looking back, it was probably better—less messy that way. Lola was discreet with her affairs and so was Brent. He had no desire to make their connection public so he could benefit from the information only Lola was privy to. Intent on winning the “Lavish Lifestyles” competition, Brent would stop at nothing to make sure the Platinum Medal was awarded to his Corzo Grand Hotel.
Lola was happy to oblige as long as Brent continued to please her in bed and live up to his promises. She was in no hurry to leave her doting husband. Before she gave up the prestige of being Randolph Behr’s wife, she needed to make sure Brent wasn’t going to screw her over. She almost laughed out loud at the thought. He was good at screwing everyone including her, but the kind of screwing she desired was sexual, not professional…and definitely not personal.
If she played her cards right, Brent’s 8,000-foot waterfront Fisher Island penthouse would be hers too. Boasting two private elevators, six bedrooms and seven baths, 24-foot ceilings and spectacular views of the Miami skyline, Biscayne Bay and Government Cut, the extravagant penthouse was their private pleasure playground and Lola aimed to own it, along with a nice chunk of Brent’s assets.
He had already hinted at a proposal, but timing was everything and she couldn’t leave Randolph, now that the old buzzard was re-opening his hotel. She would be the first lady at the inauguration ball, and she wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Brent poured himself a cognac and knocked it back. He was the only man she’d ever seen drink cognac that way. She shivered with lust. Brent was a thug to the core, far different from her husband who treated her like a porcelain doll.
“When are you coming back?” Brent demanded.
“Soon, babe. You know I can’t stay away from you.” Lola raised her upper body on her elbows and arched her back, thrusting her full, dusky tipped breasts forward. “Come back to bed. I miss you already,” she purred in a husky voice.
“Get your ass over here,” Brent said, pointing to the floor in front of him.
Lola sinuously rose from the bed and sidled up to him. She rubbed her breasts back and forth on his chest while she clasped his solid buttocks in her greedy hands.
Brent twisted her long hair in his fist and wrenched her head back until her eyes met his. He smashed his lips against hers, his plunging tongue tasting of pungent cognac.
“Get to work, bitch,” he growled with a sharp yank at her tender scalp.
Clutching the birthday gift bag from Daddy, Teddy entered the Riviera Hotel eager to sleep in her luxurious digs. Around her neck she wore the exquisite 18K gold chain and gold locket shaped like a little suitcase that he’d given her tonight. The addition of Mom’s picture at age 30 inside the locket touched her profoundly. Her resemblance to Mom was uncanny, as Daddy had fondly pointed out.
Teddy scanned the lobby until she spotted Dan the bellhop and motioned for him to come over. “Hey, Dan. Did you take my suitcases to my suite?” she said when he reached her.
Dan nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll take you there.”
“No need to. I know where it is. And please don’t call me ma’am. It makes me feel ancient…especially on my birthday.” She smiled. “Call me Teddy.”
“OK, Teddy,” Dan said, smiling back.
The one thing she could look forward to tonight would be a stellar night’s sleep in the Presidential Suite. The plush bedding and sumptuous linens guaranteed it. Walking alongside Dan, she wondered where he was taking her when he didn’t stop at the elevator but kept going.
They passed by the beauty salon and spa and Dan halted at a lone door at the end of the hall. He unlocked it and turned to her.
Teddy eyed him with a furrowed brow. “Why did we stop here?”
Dan opened the door and stepped aside so she could enter first. “This is the room Mr. Guerra told me to put your bags in.”
“Mr. Guerra has made a big mistake,” Teddy said slowly. “This isn’t the Presidential Suite.”
“I know. Mr. Guerra lives there,” Dan said, eyeing her apprehensively.
Teddy’s jaw dropped. “Mr. Guerra lives in the Presidential Suite?” When Dan gave an uneasy nod, she muttered, “Of all the nerve.” She shouldn’t have been shocked after their contentious session earlier, but she was. It was incredibly bold and completely unacceptable. Leo had taken over her Presidential Suite—the one she always stayed in when she came home ever since Daddy had married The Amoeba.
She quickly extracted a tip from her wallet, thanked Dan and ushered him out of the room. The sooner she got rid of the nervous guy, the faster she could get a new room. This place didn’t even resemble a hotel room; it looked more like a dorm or the help’s quarters. It had to be part of the renovation. It was a good idea to have an overnight room for the help, but for God’s sake, she wasn’t the help. She was the owner.
Teddy took quick inventory of her surroundings. A twin bed with a nightstand on one side and a desk and chair on the other, a long dresser with a TV on top—and that was it. One of the two doors led to a closet. The room was already crowded with her suitcases and the small closet was not adequate to hold everything she’d brought with her.
The other door opened to a bathroom with no frills—a white pedestal sink, a narrow wall cabinet, a toilet and a cramped shower stall without a tub. There went her dream of soaking in a hot tub before sliding into bed.
Teddy returned to the room and sank down on the edge of the bed. She might as well go to sleep. She was too tired to deal with a room change now. A moment later, she heard a knock on the door and figured it was Martha. Better check first, she told herself, and was glad she did when she looked through the peephole.
She emitted a dismal groan at the sight of The Amoeba standing on the other side of the door, tanned, toned and striking in a coral silk jumpsuit. A huge, square-cut diamond ring sparkled when she lifted her hand to smooth her shiny black hair, worn long and sleek. Matching diamond earrings adorned her perfect, tiny earlobes.
At 45, Lola looked closer to 35 thanks to the best plastic surgeons in Miami and Brazil. She was a stunner and she knew it. In looks and personality, they were as different as night and day. Teddy was golden, blonde and athletic, while Lola was dark, curvy and exotic. Teddy was friendly and genuinely interested in people, but Lola was high-strung, snobbish and self-absorbed.
When Teddy didn’t answer the door, Lola banged on it, but Teddy continued to ignore her. After a hot shower and a good night’s sleep, she would be in tiptop shape to deal with things tomorrow. Daddy had told her in no uncertain terms that she had to work with Leo, so she’d play along with it, but she’d be damned if would allow the hateful man to relegate her to this room and dictate what she could and couldn’t do at the Riviera.
Tomorrow she would find another job for Guerra’s right hand assistant, whoever it was. Teddy would step into the job, although being the insufferable Spaniard’s assistant wasn’t something she was looking forward to. He was so damned bossy, but it was the best way to gain complete access to his machinations.
Now that Teddy knew about Miami Beach’s centennial celebration and the Platinum Medal for best hotel, she would make it her goal to secure it for the Riviera. That would please Daddy and prove her worth to all the critics and naysayers.
With a happy sigh, she told herself all was not lost. Teddy Behr was back in town and ready to elevate her family hotel to the top!