The Decision (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  The Decision

  Dace Reynolds was conned by a beautiful woman and longs for retribution. Spying Sophie Price again, he confronts her, only the woman isn't his personal nightmare, but her sister, Stephanie. Trading on Stephanie’s obvious attraction to him, Dace decides to seduce and use her until she leads him to Sophie.

  Despite Stephanie’s best efforts to resist him, she gives in to Dace’s overwhelming appeal, believing he isn’t the cold man he portrays. While longing for more, she will take the physical relationship and settle for Sophie’s leavings once again. Dace retreats in the face of Stephanie's honesty and strives to create a relationship with her based on something more than physical attraction. He is intensely sexual but denies himself until they can embark on an exploration of both their emotional and sexual needs.

  Can Dace let go of his thirst for revenge? Can Stephanie stand up to her sister for the first time ever to secure the man of her dreams?

  Genre: Contemporary

  Length: 45,416 words

  THE DECISION

  Allyson Young

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  THE DECISION

  Copyright © 2013 by Allyson Young

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-959-2

  First E-book Publication: May 2013

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

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  DEDICATION

  For anyone who has ever thought they settled, only to find out it was the best decision they ever made. Thanks for the inspiration, Marla.

  THE DECISION

  ALLYSON YOUNG

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  Dace Reynolds stared at the woman across the room, absolute and total disbelief roiling his guts, kicking up his heartbeat. Few things shocked him or took him aback, but the unmitigated gall, the balls… He got himself back under control with Herculean effort. No one appeared to have noticed his lapse into a cacophony of emotions better suited to a callow youth laying eyes on a beautiful, desirable woman for the first time. Or a bitter, dark man lusting for revenge. He’d have the latter tonight. Sophie was going to regret ever setting foot back in his city, let alone in a venue she had to know he would frequent. He was a patron for God’s sake! His fury boiled forth again, and he used its energy to carry him forward, surging to mow down the slight figure with the perfectly sized breasts and curved ass, lovingly swathed in gossamer, golden fabric. Her mass of titian hair was piled high on her regal head, giving the false promise of height.

  Sophie was maybe five foot two in her bare feet and affected the highest of heels to offset that perceived disadvantage. Dace preferred her barefoot and naked, kneeling at his feet, with that marvellous hair down around her shoulders, the better to thrust his hands into, to hold her head steady while he shoved his cock past those pillowy lips into the hot, wet cavern of her mouth. Shit. He was aroused, and not just with rage, although the two were hard to separate. The sexual attraction wasn’t going to distract him from his purpose. Dace was going to shake Sophie until her emerald-green eyes rolled in her scheming little head, then wrap his hands around her slender throat and choke her until she was blue in the face. Nice imagery and it suited his darkest, furious fantasy.

  He was on her in seconds, noting her graceful stance, the way she engaged in conversation with the gallery’s owner and one of the other patrons, old man Gilles. She focused on them, but gave them distance, her stance respectful, unlike the Sophie of old who expected the focus only on herself and demanded it be so. The slight disparity registered as his hand clamped on one delicate, silky shoulder and spun her to face him, nearly knocking her right off those fuck-me heels. Indeed, she staggered and stayed upright only because he grasped her forearm and yanked her steady. She winced, her sherry-colored eyes widening in shock and not a little fear as she stared up at him. Her lips parted, and he was nearly undone. Nearly.

  “Dace! What on earth?” Reginald Coulter swept forward like the diva he could affect, his slender, straight physique in its Armani suit bristling with indignation. “Stephanie? Are you all right?”

  Stephanie. Not Sophie. Stephanie. As physically near identical to Sophie as any woman could be, except for the eye color, and the obviously genuine breasts. The warm sherry hue of her eyes was now deepening to gold, her luscious mouth snapping shut and setting in a straight line. Those lovely eyes narrowed, and she pulled her arm from his loosening grasp, wincing again as she did so. Dace realized he’d hurt her, probably bruised her tender, porcelain skin. His cock muttered an imprecation, something about fixing this immediately so it could make her acquaintance. Dace ignored his little brain in part, but set about the apology.

  “I am very sorry, uh, Stephanie. I’m Dace Reynolds. I thought you were someone else.”

  Stephanie took a small, careful step back, and then another, increasing the distance between them. Dace could only imagine what he’d looked like, looming over her with such dastardly intent, predator after prey. He tamped his reaction, and his cock, down.

  Reg interrupt
ed their staring contest. “This is Stephanie Price, Dace.”

  Dace’s rage flared again. He didn’t believe in fucking coincidences. The urge to shake her resurfaced, although he’d forgo choking her until he found out what her game was.

  “Price,” he murmured. His tone had her backing up a little more and his accompanying smile brought the sherry back. She should fucking well be afraid of him. She and Sophie set this up. Were they twins? Sisters?

  Reg was still blithering on. “—has just started with us. She holds a degree in art history from Northwestern and will be managing the gallery when I’m away. My second-in-command as it were.”

  What the fuck? Working? An actual job? A degree? Not using her beauty, her remarkable body, and those well-honed con artist talents to steal and destroy? Dace sucked in a breath, tearing his eyes from Stephanie’s now-pale visage to stare at Reg. The other man quirked a brow, the puzzled frown still on his face. He’d been overseas last year during Dace’s personal debacle. He’d never met Sophie, and Dace had worked hard at suppressing gossip. Reg probably had a con artist right under his nose.

  Dace decided. “Might I have a private word with your second-in-command, Reg?” He instantly amended his address. “Reginald?” The gallery owner might answer to the diminutive in private, but he insisted on his full name in public, believing it fit with his profession and held a certain panache.

  Reginald’s frown deepened. Dace cast around in his head for something to assuage the other man’s concern and curiosity. “I would like to make a private apology, and, seeing as one of my protégés is making a debut here next month, I should get on the right footing with Ms. Price.”

  “Of course.” The mention of making money distracted Reginald from any reservations he might have held, as usual. “Stephanie? Will you take Dace to my office, please? He obviously wants to apologize for being so out of line, and he’ll bring you up to date about the bronzes being displayed next month.”

  Dace could tell Stephanie wanted to refuse. She blinked and cut her eyes to her boss, then returned her gaze to study him cautiously, catching her full bottom lip with her little white teeth. Fuck. No matter who she was related to, she so did it for him. His groin ached and throbbed.

  “Perhaps Monday? We are quite busy at the moment.” Stephanie’s voice was low, husky, musical. Another difference. Sophie worked hard at the breathy, sweet, seductive tones, but an innate high-pitched whine tended to spoil her efforts. Her voice had grated on him, and he took every opportunity to shut her mouth with the press of his own. Or with his cock. Maybe if that appendage hadn’t led him around like a ram in rut, he’d have listened to what Sophie had to say, and tumbled to her black, grasping soul earlier.

  Reginald flapped his hands in a shooing motion. “Go, Stephanie. Go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Dace watched, fascinated, as Stephanie’s long, golden-brown lashes dropped to veil her eyes as she accepted her place. She was an employee, new, and had yet to prove her worth. Dace knew how Reg thought, and now Stephanie did, too, if she hadn’t before. Money talked, and loyalty, well, Reg could be intensely loyal, but money was his weakness. Dace filed that reminder away again. He did business with Reg, and their friendship would likely come second place. Offering Stephanie his arm, Dace bit back a smile when she pretended not to see it, turning on her heel instead to lead the way to Reg’s office. She had just drawn a line in the sand, one he would cross with impunity, and any other barrier she threw up for that matter. He could hardly wait to hear her story. His burning rage had abated, leaving in its stead a cold, determined core.

  Stephanie’s hips swayed beneath her rigid back and set shoulders, and he ached to reach out and drift a hand over that ass. Dace was pissed, but he could still appreciate a woman’s form. Her shoes detracted from her obviously furious posture. It was difficult to project indignation when one’s footwear forced one’s body to accommodate the additional height and presented one’s bottom and thighs so blatantly for perusal by others. The vulnerable nape of her neck, soft tendrils of that bounty of hair drifting like whispers over the flawless skin, drew his attention. He wanted to replace them with his lips and his tongue, at the same time as he worked his cock into her pussy, relishing his dominance over her as she knelt on all fours to receive him.

  But this wasn’t about just fucking Stephanie Price, despite the effect she was having on him. Dace pushed his desire down, again bleakly aware how his fury and arousal were intrinsically intertwined. It gave him pause and changed his decision in regard to his manner of revenge.

  Stephanie stalked into Reg’s office and took a stance behind the desk. Her features were composed, if her remarkable eyes were wary. Dace stepped inside and shut the door behind him. A flicker of concern crossed her face, but she said nothing. Clearly no stranger to conflict, she waited for him to speak. He was in no hurry, preferring to let the tension build while his ire cooled further.

  “I have to return to the floor.” Stephanie broke first, as he intended. He nodded and slouched against the door, clearly blocking the exit. Dace was an expert in intimidation, ruthless in business, and now in his personal life. He had Sophie to thank for the latter. His gesture was not lost on Stephanie as her eyes searched out the window.

  Need an escape route, my dear?

  “Who is Sophie to you?” Dace ensured his voice cracked like a whip.

  Her lovely face tightened, the high cheekbones prominent under her light and artful makeup, coral-colored lips pinching together, as much as such soft, full flesh could pinch. Stephanie narrowed her eyes at him.

  “So that’s what this is about. I should have known.” A flat statement, weary acceptance with a hint of despair. His gut honed in on that before he shut the empathetic feeling down. Sophie was an excellent liar, too. He hadn’t been able to read her until the bitter end, and then she was gone, spooked, drawing on that sense people like her possessed. The one telling cheats like her when to bail. Dace waited, and Stephanie swallowed, her long, elegant throat working gracefully. The fine gold chain around her neck caught the light, and his eyes were impossibly drawn to the hollow between her delicate clavicles. A pulse beat there, faint but evident. His tongue would pulse in unison if he licked her in that spot.

  “I don’t have any money,” she said levelly. “And I don’t know where she is.”

  Dace shrugged. “You didn’t answer my question.” He put a little more bite into his tone, and Stephanie flinched, ever so slightly. Good, she was sensitive. It would make his task easier.

  “Sophie is my sister, stepsister, half sister, whatever. We have different moms, and we take after our father.” She said the word father with just a hint of distaste, but Dace picked up on it. He wasn’t certain he liked how in tune he was with this stranger, but reassured himself. She’d be less likely to get away with any falsehoods.

  “I haven’t reported her to the authorities.” Dace hoped she might be more forthcoming if she knew that, then regretted sharing. She would probably read him, grasp the reason behind his reluctance to involve the police, and he hated to give up any advantage.

  Stephanie looked at him searchingly before nodding. He didn’t like what the gesture embodied. “You don’t look surprised.”

  “I don’t think any of Sophie’s, uh, conquests have reported her.”

  Conquest. Was that what Stephanie Price thought he’d been? Mark, more like it. Dace ground his teeth at how he’d been taken in by a woman with a willing cunt and a lying mouth. He wouldn’t admit he thought he’d loved her. He’d dissected their time together over the past months and was still amazed at how his cock had ruled his brain. One couldn’t love someone who loved only themselves.

  “I prefer to take care of these things on my own.” He hesitated. Sophie had been the only “thing,” and he found it distasteful for this woman to consider he was in the habit of making such poor judgements of character. He forged ahead to challenge and distract her. “I have yet to find her, but here you are. Seems a tad coin
cidental to me. Do you even have a degree? Or are you here to bilk Reg?”

  Stephanie’s eyes glittered golden at the intended insults, but she ignored them, answering only part of his question. “I have no idea where she is, as I told you. And I don’t know where she goes because we don’t talk anymore. I have nothing she wants, so she has no use for me.” Stephanie spoke in measured tones, but Dace discerned the pain behind them. She wasn’t particularly adept at hiding her feelings, at least not from him. Again he quashed any empathetic response and didn’t speculate on the connection.

  “But I have run into people she was involved with. And it’s never pretty.” Her voice was reflective and tinged with sorrow. It only served to prick Dace’s ego. He didn’t require pity. Spurned it, actually. It set his teeth on edge.

  Dace waited a heartbeat, then decided. “I don’t believe you.” He did, on some level, but Stephanie looked too much like her sister, and he was going to see this through on the chance she would lead him to Sophie. She was the best opportunity he had, after all.

  Stephanie’s body tensed, and her head came up in another regal gesture. “Too bad, Mr. Reynolds. I told you the truth, and there’s no way I can help you. Now, you’ll excuse me.”

  Oh, Dace could admire her lofty tone and her determination. Her spirit appealed to him, and his cock spoke louder in assent. He wondered how long it would take, what it would take to bend her to his will. Because he was going to have this Stephanie Price in his bed. She thought she couldn’t help him? Make it up to him? Families should stick together and right one another’s wrongs. That was his family code, and lord knew he’d picked up after his brother a hell of a long time before the fool got his shit together. In truth he’d put his boot up Chad’s backside more often than not.