His Princess: (A novella from the world of House of Payne) Read online

  But now it was in the hands of Gus Bloch, a mysterious, swaggering bulldozer of a man who apparently had decided they were going to spend the evening together.

  And maybe the night.

  Holy freaking crap.

  “You’re not going to get that, right?”

  She blinked, studying his devilishly handsome face while trying to make sense of his words. “Sorry? Get what?”

  “Your text chime just went off. Since we’re together, you should probably ignore it—”

  “Oh, shoot. I forgot about Alice.” Hurriedly she dug her phone out of her gold satin pouch purse and scanned the text.

  INCOMING!!!

  “Incoming?” Joelle mumbled, baffled. “What does that mean?”

  “Joelle, babe. Look at you, you goddess.”

  Joelle swiveled her head around to stare blankly at the man approaching them. Tall and elegant in a tux, lean in muscle with poetically wide, sky-blue eyes and gleaming bronze-gold hair slicked back with a tremendous amount of hair product, it took her a moment to place him. She knew this man, she was almost certain of it. It was on the tip of her tongue…

  “Oh.” The light went on, and she put a disbelieving hand to her cheek. Geez, she’d actually forgotten the reason she’d come to the benefit. “Emerson. Uh… wow. Hi.”

  “You look radiant, babe, like a beacon in a sea of darkness.” All smiles, Emerson Van what’s-his-name moved in for what was clearly going to be a kiss on the cheek, the phony. But before his social-climbing lips got anywhere near her, a straight arm shot out, and a plate-sized hand planted in Emerson’s chest hard enough for her to hear the impact.

  Whoa.

  “Mine, asshole,” Gus snarled, every part of him bristling with aggression. Her jaw dropped in unison with Emerson’s at the declaration, before Gus curled his free arm around her and hauled her up hard against his side. “You see this, right? You’ve got eyes in your fucking head and you can see she’s standing here, with me, and no other swinging dick in the room, yeah?”

  Emerson looked like he didn’t understand the language Gus was speaking. “I… Yes, of course, I see—”

  “Out-fucking-standing. I’m glad to hear your vision’s not on the fritz. But apparently your brain is, so I’m going to help you out with that. You see this woman with me, the one thing you never do is go in for a kiss.”

  “I was just—”

  “I don’t give two shits what you were just, pal. From this point on, you mind your fucking manners and say your hellos to my woman from a safe distance, yeah? Oh, and one other thing—call her babe or goddess again while in my presence, and I might have to give you flying lessons off the balcony. Nothing personal, but she’s not your babe, or goddess. She’s not your anything. Have I made myself clear, or do I need to repeat this somewhere more private? Like maybe a service alley, and I just let my fists do the talking?”

  “Dear God.” Emerson actually cowered, pulling back with his hands clutched against his chest, the wimp. “You’re a total psycho.”

  “No, he’s Gus Bloch.” Joelle found herself defending him without even consciously knowing that was what she was going to do. But when she heard the words coming out of her mouth, she discovered they felt right. “He’s a man who knows what he wants and goes after it like it’s his mission in life. Take note—that’s something that should be admired.”

  “Yeah?” She felt Gus shift, and she looked up to find he was looking down at her, his face no more than a few inches from hers. “You think?”

  “I do,” she said for his ears alone. She still wasn’t sure what to make of him, heaven knew. But she fit so well against his side, and that had to count for something. “I really do.”

  “Then why are we wasting time with this asshole?” Smiling down at her and not giving Emerson whatever-his-name-was another glance, Gus turned her toward the dance floor. “Let’s dance.”

  Chapter Two

  The live band playing the elevator-music version of Madonna’s “Crazy for You” wasn’t completely awful, Joelle decided as Gus took her into his arms and looked into her eyes like he was searching for her soul. In fact, it might just become her favorite song, as long as this man kept swaying his solid body against hers and making her feel like she was the most important person on the planet.

  Oh, yeah.

  She freaking loved this song.

  If only it would last forever.

  “So, now that we ditched that puckered-up idiot, tell me everything there is to know about Joelle Fielding,” Gus murmured, the hand holding hers squeezing. Maybe it was her imagination, but she could almost feel the possessive claiming of it through every nerve ending. “Start with your birth and go from there.”

  “That’s a lot of ground to cover.” She started to laugh, then shook her head in wonder when she realized he was serious. “Um, okay. Twenty-five years ago, I became the firstborn child of Margaret and Frederick Fielding, of the Chicago Fieldings. Ours was once a fabulously wealthy family, whose name had been synonymous with shipping in the Great Lakes area. But due to the advent of cheaper air freight, as well as ever-changing environmental laws in the Great Lakes region, the family fortunes dwindled while each successive generation failed to change with the times. Included in that failure to adapt was my father, Frederick, who died pretty much penniless about four years ago, and my mother followed soon after—”

  “Joelle.” The arm around her waist tightened, and she could feel his breath feather across her lips as he spoke her name. “None of that shit has to do with you. Tell me who you are.”

  “I work for a living,” she blurted, honestly stunned. How could she be anything else? Emerson, the puckered-up idiot, had dropped her the moment he’d discovered she wasn’t swimming in generations of glittery loot like Scrooge McDuck. “I’m one of three fashion reporters for the digital news mag, Buzzword Online. I’ve got a burning ambition to become Buzzword’s fashion Editor-in-Chief, because I’d freaking slay at it. I went to Northwestern, as has every Fielding since Northwestern University began, and graduated magna cum laude with a degree in Communications. I work three days a week from Buzzword’s offices, two days from home, and while I might be a trust fund baby, everything I have in my life right now has been bought and paid for by my hard-earned paycheck, and I’m more proud of that than I can possibly express.” She took a breath, then let it out slowly. “And I didn’t know I had all those feelings about that particular subject bottled up until I just spewed them at you. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all good.” A smile played around his mouth, and she couldn’t stop herself from watching it. It was a good mouth, with lips that were exactly how she liked them in a man—not too thin, with a slightly fuller lower lip that just begged a woman to nip at it. “I get what it’s like, being proud of climbing those personal mountains. I’ve climbed a few myself, though none of them had anything to do with going to college. I never went, but I’m hoping you won’t hold that against me.”

  She blinked. “Of course not. Someone as brash as you probably wouldn’t have flourished in that kind of environment. You’re the kind of man who likes to be in charge of things, and professors usually don’t like that in their students.”

  “See? Look how you’re getting to know me.” The music changed to something peppier, and he gave the band a dirty look. “You should know when I was a kid, I didn’t go to any candy-ass finishing schools or cotillions or whatever, so if you’re expecting a fancy foxtrot or some kind of shit like that out of me, it ain’t gonna happen.”

  “Thank God.” She chuckled, delighted at the dry humor in his eyes. She could definitely get into a dry sense of humor. “I did go to cotillions when I was a debutante, as well as finishing school in Switzerland, so I can tell you firsthand that you didn’t miss a damn thing. In fact, you probably had more fun than I did living your best life out here in the real world.”

  “I don’t know if I’d call it my best life. More like kicking ass and cutting throats to earn my c
oin. Then again, considering that’s what I still do, who knows? Maybe it was my best life.”

  “What do you do, exactly?” To have enough dough to buy Gilded Swan, his job had to be something extreme, like robbing banks or lobbying in Washington.

  He made a dismissive sound. “Most people call it day-trading, though I do a lot more than that.”

  “I’ve heard of day-trading, but I’m not exactly sure what it is. How did you start out?”

  “I was still a teenager when I finally dipped my toe into the stock market. I’d been studying the markets for a couple years—mainly because I’m good with numbers, which helps me see trends that everyone else seems to overlook, and I seriously fucking love the control money brings to a life. So, when I was working on the computer system at St. Ambrose where I was staying, I set up an account for both the church and myself as soon as I was legally old enough and made my first trades.”

  Her brows went up. “Why were you staying at St. Ambrose?”

  “It was that or the streets. I’ve been on my own since I was fourteen,” he expanded with a vague shrug. “No family, no home, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to give my fate over to the system and let some overworked social worker place me somewhere that wasn’t of my own choosing. St. Ambrose ran a teen shelter, and once I had that place scoped out I knew it was where I wanted to be. That’s when I decided to make sure I was indispensable to them by becoming their IT guy, then their money guy when I started investing for them.”

  Dazedly she shook her head. “I can’t believe they let you do that with their money. You were just a kid off the streets.”

  “The money I invested for them wasn’t theirs. I was sixteen and just old enough to get a job, so I got work down at the shipyards. Eventually, when I was old enough, I put a third of my paycheck into an account for St. Ambrose, and when their portfolio finally began paying off a few years later, I donated it to them with the proviso that I got to oversee its growth. To this day I still look after their portfolio, a fact which got me a lot of attention a couple years ago, when St Ambrose opened up some private school.”

  “They didn’t just open up some private school, as I recall,” she said, shaking her head in growing amazement. “St. Ambrose opened up both a college-prep school and a private university in Cabrini-Green, right on the river with adjacent campuses that are absolutely stunning. I did an article about their school uniforms last fall, and did a photoshoot on their grounds.”

  “Yeah? Did you go to the student union?”

  “Yes, the Augustus Bl—oh my God, the Augustus Bloch Student Union!” She yelled it right in his face, but seriously, she couldn’t help it. It didn’t help matters any when he burst out laughing, while several dancing couples around them gave her dirty looks. “Holy cats, that was you? That was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Augustus Bloch is my name,” he said between fits of laughter, looking at her like he’d never seen her species before. “The money I’ve made for them built those campuses, a fact that’s put me on the map as a financial consultant. But even though I now have a dozen or more clients, I still view myself as a day-trader, looking for that next big thing.”

  “Wow,” she said faintly, ignoring the quick beat of the music to sway gently in time with him. “You weren’t kidding when you said you’ve climbed some personal mountains. From an orphan on the streets to having a student union named after you, that is one hell of a climb.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I guess.”

  It was adorable how he looked almost embarrassed. “I know this is probably going to sound ridiculous since we just met, but I’m really proud of you, Gus. You’ve made this world a better place. I hope you know that.”

  By degrees, his smile faded as his gaze played over her face, and an almost palpable hunger took its place. Heat flushed her skin all over her body, filling her with a feverish kind of delirium, and she couldn’t ignore how that heat gathered between her legs. Had any man ever looked at her like he wanted to devour her? Not just hold, or kiss, or even screw. Devour.

  Who knew a mere look from a man could be so exciting?

  Slowly, the air evaporated from her lungs as she returned that look in spades. Her heart began to pound as if she’d just run a mile, and she wondered if he could feel it as her breasts pressed against his chest. Lust throbbed through her like a drug, and she couldn’t help but lean into him more, so that she could drink in the friction their swaying bodies created—

  “Jo, in case you haven’t noticed I’ve done everything you asked me to do and officially completed your Mission Impractical, so a deal’s a deal. Time to bounce.”

  Joelle gasped as reality snapped back into focus, and she realized she and Gus weren’t the only two people in the room. She turned her head to look at Alice, and a shaft of guilt went through her at the irritation clearly stamped all over her foster sister’s face. “Oh, my gosh, Al. I’m so, so sorry, I—”

  “Who the hell interrupts a dance,” Gus snarled, glaring so hard at Alice it was like he was trying to will her off the planet by that look alone. “Wait until our goddamn dance is over, lady.”

  “That was the original goddamn plan, genius, but you’re now on your fourth song and you two are still superglued together,” Alice barked back without missing a beat. Then she took a breath and laced her hands tightly in front of her. “It’s not my intention to break up your adorable sesh of looking soulfully into each other’s eyes, but the woman you’ve apparently got caught up in your perma-clench arms happens to be my ride. Remember,” she added, looking back to Joelle, “you insisted I leave my car at your place after you dressed me up in this ridiculous outfit.”

  “For the record, that outfit is not ridiculous. You look sex-on-stilettos stunning.” Jo winced at another surge of guilt before she reluctantly began to pull away. Alice was right, of course. A deal was a deal. “Please forgive me for being such an idiot, Alice. I’d better—"

  “Take a cab. Hell, buy a fucking cab.” A wad of bills as thick as a novel suddenly appeared, and Gus thrust it into Alice’s hands. “Have the doorman downstairs get one for you and make him walk you to it so you’re never unaccompanied. Have a nice night.”

  “What the actual hell.” Alice stared at the insane amount of cash in her hands before thrusting it back at Gus. “Dude, I’m not some irritating kid sister you need to pawn off, so take your stupid money back. I can pay for my own cab fare, for heaven’s sake. If that’s what you want me to do?” Again she looked to Joelle, brows raised. “It’ll suck epic ass, but I can hang around this snoozefest of a party if you, you know… need me to.”

  Clearly she was asking if Joelle thought she was safe around Gus, and she couldn’t help but smile at her foster sister’s protectiveness. “I’m good here, Al. By the way, Gus Bloch, this is my foster sister and forever partner in crime, Alice Halliday. Al, this is Gus, and I think I’m totally into staring soulfully into his eyes for the rest of the evening.”

  Alice considered her for a long moment before giving a faint, baffled shake of her head. “Okay. Nice to meet you, Gus. Treat Jo like the princess she is, and we’ll get along great.”

  Some of the surliness in Gus’s expression lightened. “Not a problem. I recognized her as a princess the moment I laid eyes on her.”

  “Excuse me, but I am not a princess,” Joelle huffed at them, affronted. “Princesses have no power. Feel free to refer to me as the queen.”

  “Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” Alice snorted, but she smiled as she backed away. “You sure about this, Jo?”

  Aw. “I’m fine, Al. Go on home. And thank you for everything.”

  “Text me later. I want to know you got home safely, and that this Gus Bloch dude didn’t turn you into a statistic.”

  “Your foster sister’s got a mouth on her,” Gus said when Alice had left, staring after her like he wanted to make sure she stayed gone. “Someday it’s going to land her in a world of trouble.”

  “Never worry about Alice.
Mainly because she hates it, but also because from the time she was orphaned when she was twelve, she’s made it her mission in life to fend for herself. Offering her help of any kind is taken as an insult.”

  “Yeah?” His frown became thoughtful as he returned his attention back to her. “I can understand that. Any other insights in dealing with members of your family? You don’t have parents any longer, but what about aunts and uncles? Other siblings?”

  That startled a laugh out of her. “I have a younger brother, Felix, but why would you care about that? It’s not like you’re ever going to meet him.”

  “Yeah, I am.” He executed a little spin that made her clutch her arms around his neck. Just like he’d wanted, she realized belatedly, and had to give him props for the maneuver. “You don’t think our time together is going to end with this party, do you, my lady?”

  “My lady?” That got her attention. “Well, I suppose that’s better than being called a princess.”

  “You’re always going to be a princess in my mind, but since you don’t want to be called that, my lady will do. Now, answer the question. Do you really think our time together is going to end with this party?”

  “I haven’t given it any thought.” But now that the subject was front and center, she couldn’t focus on anything else. “I’d like to see more of you.”

  “That’s good, because that’s exactly what’s going to happen. What are you doing later on tonight?”

  “Later on tonight?” She stared at him, not sure if he was kidding. “Probably soaking my feet after dancing so much with you.”

  “Come back to my place. I give a mean foot massage.”

  Slowly she shook her head, flabbergasted by how tempted she was. “As much as that might sound appealing, I have work in the morning and need to get a good night’s sleep. I could be wrong, but I have a feeling that if I decided to go to your place tonight, I wouldn’t get any sleep at all.”