Page 172 of Powerhouse: Boxed Set
The room burst into rapid discussion. My father’s supporters spoke loudly, demanding a new vote. Some of my supporters spoke out in my defense, but even to my own ears, it sounded feeble. It sounded like we’d already lost. If we took another vote right now, I’d lose. And that would be a hard blow to recover from. I’d eventually have this coup again, but it would take longer and I’d have to give up more to slick assholes like Hart.
No. We’d finish this now.
“Six weeks,” I said to the room, my voice loud and commanding enough that everyone fell silent. “I have devoted my time to building this company, to growing it. When you look at my division’s numbers compared to the company as a whole, it proves what I can do. But I also see that image matters to you. And I value your opinions.” That was a lie, but I could play the goddamn game. “Therefore, I’m asking for six weeks. Give me six weeks to improve it. Give me six weeks to become a regular on the society pages for the right reasons. And then we’ll vote.”
They deliberate for a moment amid anxious murmurs.
“Six weeks?” my father asked. “For what? You won’t change your stripes, boy. You’ll just hide it better… and then once you’re CEO, you’ll keep doing it. Keep ruining the family name with your predilections. No, if you want the board to believe you, you need something more than that. You need a wife.”
CHAPTER TWO
Lucian
I’d always beena monster for seeking out the forbidden.
The exclusive BDSM club was my usual hunting ground. That was where I found women who begged for what I had to offer—sex with pain instead of romance.
My father was fucking with me. So was the board, for that matter. It was a final hurdle to jump before taking control of Morelli Holdings. A test, to see if I could play their little games of diplomacy and class warfare.
Two could play that game.
A nice, docile woman. That’s what the board wants me to find. Someone well bred. Someone well-mannered, as if I were buying a horse. And so I had to go shopping where well-bred wives were sold—at a party thrown by the Constantine family.
Disguised by nothing more than a black leather mask covering half my face, I mingled my way through the guests. I was right at the heart of it—pompous bullshit, all of it fake. Fake pretenses. Fake smiles. Everything I’d have expected from the Constantines.
And the little bride I hunted.
“Champagne, sir?”
I shook my head and fixed the waitress in my stare. “Mineral water.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
She scuttled away, rattling her tray of glasses as she went.
Tinsley Constantine’s coming-of-age masked ball was bursting at the seams. Hundreds of rich people chattering in costumes, and I was twisting amongst them like a vine with invisible thorns.
They didn’t know a Morelli walked among them.
Constantines swarmed the place, billowing through the masses with their beautiful, blonde bullshit. Vivian, Keaton, and Tinsley herself were prancing around as though they were on a film set, but not nearly so much as Caroline. The matriarch was dressed up like an ice queen in a diamanté mask, smiling at everyone she passed.
It wasn’t Caroline who caught my attention.
No. It was the much younger woman in gold. She was beautiful, but there were plenty of beautiful women. There was something else about her. She was twice as alive as anyone else. Vibrant. Animated. Full of feeling, which is something I severely lacked.
She owned the room without even trying.
Elaine Constantine.
She wore a Venetian mask that covered so much of her face I could barely make out her features, but that didn’t matter. I didn’t need to see her face.
The visible parts of her were enough to drive me wild. Hair like silk and gold. I wanted my fingers in it—why? No explanation came to mind. I wanted to run my thumb over the soft pout of her lips while she watched me with eyes so big and blue they reminded me of a song.Me.A song. It was ludicrous, but that didn’t make it any less true.
I watched her from guest to guest, swigging back the fizz and laughing at each one like they were the most hilarious person she’d ever met. Her laugh was sexy and flirty, with enough husky lower notes to make me hard beneath my tux.
I wasn’t in the business of deep emotions. Didn’t allow them. Abhorred them. But the woman made me feel something. A pressure in my chest. A sharp curiosity. I wanted more than the usual pain and tears. I wanted more.
I couldn’t stop looking at her.
