Wickedly Wicked

Chapter Eight

Her blunt rejection stung him. He stared at the closed door before leaving.

Once back at his place, Thomas retrieved a musty box from the corner of his walk-in closet and rifted through its long-forgotten contents. Soon, mementoes of the past lay strewn on his king-size bed. He delved through the old photographs. Each showed a frozen moment from his adolescence to the university years, all of him and Lilliana, from a time when life beckoned with the promise of more.

Finally, he found the photo he had been looking for—faded and curled up with age. It was from a summer camp; the last one they had gone to. In it, they both had their arms around each other. Their past selves beamed happily at the campsite, oblivious to how they would become strangers.

Setting it aside on the night table, Thomas headed for a quick shower. He rested his hands against the wall as the hot water sluiced over his muscles, melting the tension away. An image of a woman with copper hair and bright eyes, reminiscent of a forest under a fiery sun, flitted through his mind. 

Fuck. His eyes widened in disbelief. It was no longer about one-upmanship. He wanted her. Of all the women, he longed for a girl that he had known all his life. Bloody hell.

The next day, he had Tara Khan, his assistant, call Lilliana to give her the specifics about their dinner plans. Later, his landline rang. Thomas pushed the speaker button. "Yes, Tara."

"I called Ms. Burton's office, and I spoke to Jane, just Jane, who told me that Ms. Burton has declined the dinner invitation for this Friday or," Tara paused, "any other Fridays."

"Did she now?" he murmured. "It's okay, I'll take it from here." Without any hesitation, he speed-dialled her number. It was time he taught Ms. Burton how the hard-hitting businessman that he was played the game.

Her Siberian frostiness had troubled him during his ill-fated marriage, but he wasn't the one to beg for an answer. He expected people to do his bidding. That's the way his life had been so far. He snapped his fingers, and things got done.

"Hello." She picked up on the second ring. Her voice reminded him of brandy being poured in a mass of swirling amber. A white-hot bolt of lust rocked through him. Focus, Sullivan. Don't think with your cock but your head that has taken you this far in life.

"Lilliana, this is Thomas," he said in a clipped voice. No need to sound like an eager boy in his first flush of youth.

"My assistant, Tara, told me a funny story, and it's a good thing that I have a sense of humour, though many would disagree with it. She said you've refused the dinner plan we agreed to yesterday." She would learn when given a chase he won. Always.

"Well, I didn't know this was a business dinner that your assistant had to call my receptionist to set up." She bristled. "If so, my business schedule is full for this week. Maybe Tara can contact Jane and arrange something for the next week. However, my personal calendar is open."

Damn. He was dumbstruck. No, intrigued. Lilliana had grown claws of her own. No one talked to him like that, and if they did, they never heard from him again. When he had wooed his ex-wife at the outset of their relationship, it had been an easy persuasion. Frowning, he pushed the thought of the other woman aside. It had no place in his life at present.

"Also, it falls under good manners if a guy calls himself. Don't you think?"

"A grave error on my part, then," Thomas amended, smoothing the jagged edges of his tone. He knew that playing hardball would make her retreat. "Let's try again. I'll be honoured if you agree to go out for dinner with me?" 

A rush of breath sounded. Had he shocked her into silence by acting malleable? No one took this long to say yes to him, be it dinner with him or a night spent frolicking in bed. "Are you going to rescind your promise?" God. He was begging.

"A promise is a promise," she relented. "I'll hold my end of the bargain."

"Great. I'll see you on Friday at six-thirty in the evening. It's a French restaurant. One of my favourites. You'll love it." The place had the most hardened food critics eating their words.

"Alright."

Just alright? This wasn't the Lilliana he knew. The one who let her inquisitiveness get the better of her, a very attractive flaw. Though, unwittingly, at their last dinner, she had aroused his curiosity, and he was curious now.

"I look forward to this evening with great anticipation." His voice turned rough. "I fear we let time get in the way, and I, for one, intend to rectify it. Think of me until then."

"Bye, Thomas," Lilliana said, breathless. The line went dead.

He stared at his phone. Her tenacity had him hooked, and he craved her, but she wasn't immune to him either, like his little kitten pretended.

She was fire and ice. Burning desire coalesced with cool resolve. He wanted all of her. Her smiles. Her imperfections. Her dreams. Her everything.

Were there more layers to her? If he peeled them off, would he find the girl who had been a constant force in the past? Thomas couldn't wait to find out.

Author's Note: It is amazing to see this story being read in the Philippines, Africa, India, Mexico, North America and other parts of the world.