Sinful Rapture
By
Alexandra Ivy
Copyright © 2014 by Debbie Raleigh
Editor: Julia Ganis
Cover Art by Patricia Schmitt (Pickyme)
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.
CHAPTER ONE
The wedding was perfect.
Or at least it should have been.
After months of planning and a bottomless budget, Holly Sullivan had made certain nothing was overlooked.
Choosing to set the social event of the year in the gardens behind the elegant Las Vegas hotel, she’d decorated the marble grotto in white silk with accents of gold. At the altar she’d placed huge banks of white lilies and gilded roses. Even the candles had been personally hand-dipped to include Holly’s favorite lavender scent.
A glorious backdrop for her white sheath gown that was closely fitted to her tall, slender form with gold thread that had been hand-embroidered on the sleeveless bodice.
It was even a perfect spring day.
A cloudless blue sky. A soft breeze.
There was only one thing missing.
The groom.
Standing in the center of the grotto, Holly watched in numb disbelief as the uniformed employees hurriedly stripped away the gold bows that were tied to the rows of chairs.
Had it really only been three hours ago that she’d been waiting in the vestibule in the back of the hotel? She’d been surrounded by her bridesmaids and her father, Vigo Angeli, who for once had looked pleased with his bastard daughter.
It seemed like a lifetime had passed.
She blew out a weary sigh.
Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d been jilted, she wryly conceded.
The past six months hadn’t been her finest.
Not only had her father sold his casino conglomerate after he’d all but promised that she would one day take his place at the head of the family business, but he’d sold it to Liam Conner.
A gambler, womanizer, and all-around pain in her ass.
She’d gone from loving her career as Vice President in charge of Marketing, to dreading each day spent with Liam.
He was too raw, too unnervingly sensual for her taste.
Nothing at all like Ted.
She abruptly grimaced.
Ted.
Or Theodore Wentworth Junior.
The eldest son of the Wentworths, wealthy investment bankers. He’d proposed to her nine months ago.
The man who couldn’t be bothered to show up for his own wedding.
Bastard.
Pain sliced through her numbed disbelief.
She’d just been completely humiliated in front of two hundred guests.
But far worse than that was the gut-wrenching sense of being found unworthy in front of her father.
Her entire life, Vigo had made her feel as if she would never be good enough.
Okay, Vigo had been generous in supporting her mother, a showgirl who’d been one in a long line of lovers. And he’d not only paid for Holly to achieve her MBA, but he’d invited her to join his corporation after his eldest son and heir, Luc Angeli, had walked away to start his own company.
But she’d always suspected that Vigo had only brought her in to punish Luc. He’d certainly never acted as if he was overly thrilled to have her as a part of his life.
Either as a daughter or an employee.
A fact that had been proven when he’d sold the business without even warning her what he intended to do.
And now this…
Sucking in a deep breath despite the corset that was digging into her ribs, Holly glanced toward the edge of the grotto where her maid of honor was hovering with obvious concern.
“You don’t have to keep a suicide watch,” Holly assured her best friend with a humorless smile.
Sasha Kristoff was the exotic result of a Russia-born father and a Hispanic mother.
Like Holly, she had dark hair, although she kept hers cut shoulder-length while Holly’s fell nearly to her waist. And her eyes were a dark, indigo blue where Holly had eyes the unusual shade of cognac.
“I’m not,” Sasha assured her, moving to stand at her side.
She’d changed out of the gold bridesmaid dress into a pair of tight leather pants and red halter-top.
“Good,” Holly said. “Because I’m not going to do something stupid.”
Sasha gave an inelegant snort. “Now that’s a pity.”
Holly lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”
“If ever an occasion begged for doing something stupid, this is it.”
“You mean like doing the sky jump off the Stratosphere or betting my life savings at the roulette table?”
A dangerous smile touched Sasha’s full lips. “I was thinking more along the lines of taking a baseball bat to Junior’s prized Lamborghini.”
Holly pressed a weary hand to her forehead. A headache of Titanic proportions was brewing behind her right eye.
“Sasha, please don’t.”
“Fine.” Sasha shrugged. “Then we can take the baseball bat to Junior’s smug face. Far more satisfying.”
“No baseball bats,” Holly muttered.
Sasha grimaced. “Dammit. The bastard should pay for what he did to you.”
“You never did like him.”
“Because he’s a douchebag,” Sasha said with simple honesty.
Yeah. He was. And if Holly was being completely honest, a part of her had known that he was a douchebag.
He was vain. Smug. And, quite frankly, shallow.
But when they’d started dating she’d decided that he ticked all the boxes.
He had the proper pedigree.
He’d earned her father’s approval.
And he didn’t demand the sort of intense emotions she wasn’t prepared to offer.
Their relationship was easy. Uncomplicated.
“I thought—” She cut off her words with a shake of her head.
“What?” Sasha demanded.
Holly grimaced. She’d never assumed that Ted had been madly in love with her, but she’d never thought he would deliberately hurt her.
She heaved a weary sigh. “I thought he at least cared about me.”
Sasha made a sound of disgust. “Junior is incapable of caring about anyone but himself. He’s a genuine narcissist. Still, I have to admit I’m surprised.”
“Why?”
“He’s always such a prig about his precious image. Mr. My-Shit-Doesn’t-Stink could barely stand to be in the same room with me in case I contaminated his blue blood,” Sasha pointed out.
Holly bit her lower lip. She couldn’t argue. Ted had been horrified to discover that Holly’s best friend was the owner of a high-end, extremely exclusive club called the Playhouse.
It was far more than just a strip club, or a gathering place for those who enjoyed an alternative lifestyle. Sasha had managed to build a small empire that included a large store where she sold Playhouse merchandise, erotic art, and toys. She also ran a company that offered phone sex, and strippers for private parties.
As far as Ted was concerned, she was nothing more than a whore.
“He was old-fashioned.” Holly instinctively tried to excuse his prejudice.
It was a habit she obviously needed to break.
The sooner the better.
“He was a pompous p
rick,” Sasha snapped. “Which is why I can’t believe he would create such a public spectacle of himself.”
“He didn’t,” Holly muttered, glancing around the grotto that was being swiftly stripped of all traces of her aborted wedding. In less than half an hour it would be as if she’d never been there. A damned shame she couldn’t rid herself of the sense of humiliation so easily. She shuddered, wrapping her arms around her waist. “He left me to enjoy that particular honor.”
“Fucking coward.” Sasha gave a disgusted shake of her head. “But come on, Holly, his no-show is going to be the prime source of gossip among the social elites for the next year.”
Holly winced. It shouldn’t matter. She didn’t even like ninety percent of the guests that had been invited to the wedding.
But the thought of people whispering behind her back or snickering when she walked into the room was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.
“Thanks.”
“Sorry, but it’s true.” Sasha wrinkled her nose. “Why not discretely call off the wedding a week ago if he was having second thoughts? It would have been no more than a three-day wonder.”
She shook her head. “Who knows?”
Sasha frowned. “Aren’t you curious?”
Was she?
Actually…no.
At the moment, all she wanted was to disappear from the world and forget this hideously horrible day had ever happened.
“It doesn’t really matter anymore.”
Clearly struggling not to press the issue, Sasha bit back her frustrated words as a stunningly beautiful woman with long dark hair and hazel eyes entered the grotto and walked in their direction.
Maddy Angeli was a former model and currently married to Holly’s half-brother, Luc.
It was weird. When Holly was young she’d known about her father’s “real” family. The elegant wife who lived in the grand mansion with their two perfect children, Luc and Shelby.
She’d been desperately jealous of them.
It wasn’t until after Luc had turned his back on Angeli Casinos and she’d more or less taken his place at the family business that she’d tentatively reached out. Astonishingly, Luc had been happy to get to know his bastard sister and they’d quickly formed a close relationship that now included his lovely wife.
Of course, they’d been careful to keep their friendship a secret from Vigo.
They’d both known that the older man would have a seizure to discover they were friends instead of competitors for his attention.
“Hi, sweetie.” Maddy wrapped her arms around Holly to give her a warm hug. The woman was as kind as she was beautiful, and if Holly didn’t love her so much she’d feel compelled to kill her for being so perfect. “The caterers have packed up and the reception room has been cleaned. Is there anything else you need?”
“No.” Holly pulled back, putting on a brave face. God. She just realized there was something worse than being a joke to society. It was being an object of pity to her friends. “You and Luc have been great. Thank you.”
“Hey, that’s what family is for.” Maddy gave her fingers a squeeze. “Do you want to come home with us?”
She firmly shook her head. “I just want a hot bath and a very large glass of wine.”
Maddy frowned. “I don’t think you should be alone.”
“She won’t be,” Sasha said.
“I told you, I don’t need a babysitter,” Holly muttered.
“The last thing I intend to be is your babysitter, chica.” A wicked smile curved Sasha’s lips. “Tonight you’re going to spread your wings and fly.”
Hmm. Holly didn’t trust that smile. The last time she’d seen it Sasha had been trying to convince her she needed a tattoo.
“What are you talking about?”
“A walk on the wild side.” The smile widened. “It’s Ladies’ Night at the club.”
“No.” Holly held up a hand. “No way am I going to the Playhouse.”
Sasha arched her brows. “You’d rather stay home and wallow in a pity party?”
“I don’t wallow.”
“Holly, come on,” Sasha pleaded.
Holly shook her head. “I’m just not interested in…”
Her words trailed away.
Actually, she wasn’t entirely sure what went on at the elegant club. Oh, she knew there was a variety of entertainment.
Strippers, both male and female. Spectator sports. BDSM dungeons. And private rooms upstairs that catered to every taste imaginable.
But she’d never visited the club. She was Vigo’s bastard daughter by a showgirl. She had to be twice as careful with her reputation as most businesswomen.
“Not interested in what?” Sasha prompted. “Drinking and dancing with your besties? Hot men taking off their clothes? The opportunity to celebrate being young and beautiful and gloriously free of the douchebag?”
Holly hesitated.
She’d done everything expected of her.
Everything.
And what had it gotten her?
Vigo had sold the business and made her life a hell. Ted had jilted her at the altar. And her so-called society friends had walked away without a second glance.
Did she really want to be the good girl and go home to nurse her wounds in private?
“You’re right,” she abruptly decided, feeling an unexpected rush of excitement. With a deliberate motion she slid off the two carat diamond solitaire and tossed it toward Maddy. Her sister-in-law ran an after-school program for disadvantaged kids. Hocking the ring should give her enough to pay for the healthy snacks they always tried to send home with the children. At least for the next year. “Tonight I just want to forget.”
Sasha gave her a quick hug before turning toward Maddy. “Are you in?”
“Tempting, but I think I’d better keep an eye on Luc,” Maddy said, slipping the ring into her purse without comment.
“Why?” Holly was instantly concerned. “Is he sick?”
“No, homicidal,” Maddy confessed. “If he gets his hands on your ex-fiancé I’m afraid he’ll beat him to a bloody pulp. I intend to take him home and keep him distracted.”
Oh. Holly grimaced. Luc had never liked Ted. Now she didn’t doubt he was prepared to do some painful damage.
“Good plan,” she teased.
Maddy kissed her cheek. “Enjoy your night. The bastard isn’t worth your tears.
“Damn straight.” Sasha took her arm and tugged her toward the edge of the grotto.
“Let’s go, chica.”
***
Liam Conner passed through the scrolled iron gates and entered the three-story mansion that consumed the entire block.
Made of shiny metal with lots of glass and sharp angles, it looked like an expensive home created by a modern architect, not the most exclusive sex club in Vegas.
Bypassing the line of hopefuls waiting to gain entry, Liam boldly stepped past the security guards who were attired in Armani tuxes in celebration of Ladies’ Night and entered the shallow foyer.
Men in his position didn’t ask to be let in.
They demanded entry.
A huge change from his childhood.
Just ten years ago he’d arrived in Vegas from Dublin with nothing but the shirt on his back.
He’d been the youngest of ten children born to Patrick and Alice Conner. He dearly loved his family, but he’d known he was never going to follow in his father’s footsteps to become a construction worker. And since there would never be money for a proper education, he’d taken matters into his own hands.
Starting off as an amateur, then a professional gambler, he’d accumulated enough money to start an Irish-style pub just a few blocks off the Strip. And then another. And another.
Then six months ago he’d fulfilled the first part of the dream that had brought him to Vegas.
He was now the proud owner of the Angeli Casinos.
Tonight he intended to fulfill the second dream. The one that had started a year a
go.
A hard smile curved his lips, making the hostess stumble in astonishment.
He barely noticed her dazed expression or low sigh of appreciation as she tried to show off her curves revealed by her black leather corset and matching thong.
He was too accustomed to females gawking at his sculpted male features and the thick satin of his russet hair that he kept cut short.
There was only one woman who he wanted to attract.
And tonight he wasn’t leaving without her.
Entering the main room of the club, Liam came to a halt.
Astonishingly sophisticated, the glass and metal room was an elegant canvas that could be altered by the high-tech laser lightshow. Even the furnishings and expensive artwork were easily portable so they could be switched out, depending on the flavor of the night.
Casting an impatient glance over the crowd of females who were seated at the round tables that framed the small stage, he quickly turned his attention toward the long bar that ran the length of one wall.
His prey wouldn’t be interested in the male strip show, no matter how tempting the dancers.
She wasn’t into beefcake.
Nope. Not at the bar. A frown tugged at his brows as his attention shifted toward the small dance floor where a dozen women and a few half-dressed men gyrated to Beyoncé.
His heart missed a strategic beat.
In the middle of the crowd he could see the top of Holly’s dark head.
Bingo.
Preparing to battle his way to her side, Liam was abruptly distracted by a stunning, dark-haired woman who stepped directly into his path.
“Now how did I know you were going to show up here tonight?” Sasha mocked, the purple lightshow playing over her high, Slavic cheekbones and faintly bronzed skin.
Liam folded his arms over his chest. Unlike the other men in the room he was wearing casual jeans instead of leather, with his chest was fully covered by a white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“You sent the text telling me where to find her,” he said, well aware the mysterious message must have come from this woman.
No one had been more surprised than he’d been when he’d received it, but he hadn’t wasted a second. Jumping in his Mercedes sports car, he’d made it to this club on the edge of Vegas in record time.