

### Razel Dazzle

Elizabeth Morgan

A modern twist on a long haired tale....

Razel Dazzle

Copyright © 2013, Elizabeth Morgan

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchase for your use only, then please return to your eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

**Cover Artist:** Fiona Jayde

**Editor:** Zee Monodee

Blurb:

Will she let down her hair for the man of her fantasies?

Famous for her long, golden hair and beaming smile, Razel D'Punz is the hottest model in the industry. But although most women would kill to get ahead in this profession, Razel lives an isolated life; one she has learnt to accept...until she meets Matthew Prince, a new photographer in the business.

Refusing to let her mother/agent's strict rules stop her from spending time with the man of her fantasies, Razel quickly discovers that one night with Matthew isn't enough....

And neither is the life she is chained to. Something will have to change if she is ever to get her very own Happily Ever After.

Available at most online retailers.

### Razel Dazzle

###  Prologue

They were two beautiful people. Both strong and healthy, exactly what she was looking for.

The male was at least six foot, slender, but his body was firm. His light brown hair was slicked back, making his jaw-line and chiseled cheekbones more defined. His eyes were firmly fixed on his partner as they attempted the triple spin.

The female—such a petite thing with snow-white skin and a dazzling set of white teeth. Her blue eyes shone as she gazed up at him from a slanted dip. Her golden hair was tied up with stray curls hanging around her face.

_Such a beautiful couple. They will do perfectly._ She waited for the show to end.

### *****

Gabriella stood in front of the dressing room door. The small copper star resting against the worn wood had lost its gleam; the scratched metal had seen better days. She moved her attention to the two sheets of paper pinned below it, one reading: Robert Burton; the other: Nina Hewson. The dancing couple from Arizona. A couple whose lives were about to change.

She knocked sharply upon the door, which opened immediately, bringing her eye to eye with the polite, green-blue gaze of Robert.

"May I help you?"

"You may indeed." She walked past him into the small room.

The dressing room, like the rest of the broken-down theater, wasn't anything special. The general necessities were there; a mirror, vanity table, railing for costumes, and two chairs that looked like they had been stolen from a high school classroom. And from what she could guess, the hideous, moth-eaten red fabric hanging from the wall toward the end of the small space was the door to the restroom. The faded floral wallpaper peeled in many places, and the room stank of sweat and cheap perfume. Her nose wriggled almost uncontrollably as the rancid smell swamped her. At the sound of the door shutting, she turned and focused her attention on Nina, who was standing and pulling her faded, pink silk robe shut.

She drank their beauty in almost hungrily, reminding herself why she was in the hellhole of a theatre in the first place. Robert moved and stood beside Nina, who had folded her arms across her chest.

Happy with her choice, Gabriella dusted one of the chairs and sat, making herself as comfortable as possible. This was the last place in the world she would ever choose to be, but for her plan to work, she would need working class people. Individuals hungry enough for fame and fortune that they would sell their souls to the devil himself just for a taste. Who could be more famished than a struggling performer; or in this case, a couple of performers?

So she'd had to drag herself downtown, forced to sit for two hours in the dump that somebody had a nerve to call a theater. No one in their right mind who cared about their career or their bodies would even consider what she was about to propose, but the information she had found on these two loved-up dreamers was enough to assure her that her money would be welcomed, even if it took quite a bit of persuading. And she was, after all, very good at persuading.

She placed her red purse on her knee and folded her hands. "May I just begin by saying that you are both simply marvelous dancers?" Her fake and flattering smile slid into place, and satisfaction stirred inside her as the compliment sank in.

Nina blushed as Robert nodded.

"Why, thank you." His broad smile fluttered across his lips. "What can we do for you, miss?"

"I was wondering if you would like to make some extra money."

They glanced at each other.

"I was thinking along the lines of ten thousand. How does that suit you?"

Excitement sparked in their eyes. She could see the slight twitches running through their bodies at the offer, and she imagined they either wanted to embrace each other in sheer delight or fall at her feet and kiss her Prada shoes.

Nina beamed. "We would be very interested."

"Yes," Robert agreed, although hesitation quivered in his words. "But firstly, who are you?"

"My name is Gabriella D'Punz. I am—"

"Gabriella D'Punz, the founder of Ivory Tower Modeling Agency?" Nina dropped her arms to her side and took a step forward.

Gabriella cleared her throat and purged the surge of irritation that pulsed through her at the girl's interruption. "That is right, my dear."

"We accept."

She fought the slight urge to smile at Nina's conclusion. "You do not even know what I am proposing."

Naturally, the girl would presume they were being offered a contract for modeling; why else would a modeling agent come to see them?

"But surely there is only one reason you would want to see us—"

"I'm afraid you have mistaken me, my dear." Nina's brow creased under her words. "Or should I say you jumped to conclusions. I am Gabriella D'Punz, founder and agent of Ivory Tower, but I have not come here to offer either of you a modeling contract."

"But—"

"Although you are both beautiful—I openly admit it—and you are at a reasonable modeling quality, well, you are such wonderful dancers. That is where your hearts are, and I wouldn't dare drag you away from that passion."

"Then what do you want?" Nina asked, slumping down in the chair facing Gabriella.

"I want a child." She paused as their eyebrows dipped in uncertainty to where this conversation was heading. "You see, my husband is growing old, and I am unable to have children...."

"I...I'm sorry to hear that, but what has this got to do with us?" Robert asked.

"Well, I was wondering if you could help me."

Nina lifted her shoulders, her eyes widened a fraction. "How exactly?"

Gabriella's focus shifted to Robert; a small smile curled her lips as realization blossomed over his face.

"Haven't you heard of adoption?"

"Yes. But I want a surrogate mother and in all honesty, I have had my eyes on you,"—she rested her gaze on Nina—"my dear, for quite some time."

Nina shifted in her seat. "What do you mean?"

"I want you to be my surrogate."

"What? No." She shook her head. "No, I won't do that."

Robert stepped forward. "Why her? What do you mean; you've had your eyes on her?"

"I saw a show of yours a year ago. I became interested in you. You're both beautiful and in good health. From what I have learned of your education, you are both decently smart. All the qualities I need in a child. I have considered adoption for years, but I never found a child I liked."

Nina's eyes grew bigger. "What, you...you've been spying on us?"

"No, not spying. I just have an interest. I also have an interest in your career. You're not making very much money. You have no home. You're living out of Motels, travelling up and down the country—"

"How dare you!" Robert thundered. "How dare you come in here and...and poke your nose in to our business, to ask—"

"There's no need to get hysterical."

"No need? I...I...Get out! I want you out!"

Gabriella sighed. "I see you are going to make this difficult. So, let's just get down to it, shall we? How much money do you want?"

"What? This isn't about money," Robert snapped.

"Nonsense, _everything_ is about money." She reached into her purse and pulled out her silver cigarette pouch. "Everyone has a price. So name it."

"No. This isn't about money. This is about a complete stranger waltzing into our dressing room demanding a baby from us!"

"I have not demanded anything from you. Please keep calm." She placed a cigarette in her mouth and put the pouch back in her purse.

"I will not! You have no right! No right to ask this! No right to go digging around in our private business!"

"I was not digging, and more to the point, I am offering you fifteen thousand dollars to have a child for me; for a woman who is unable to have children." Gabriella pulled her lighter from her purse and lit the end of her cigarette.

"And that's our problem?"

"I do not see what the problem is."

"You wouldn't, would you? You strut in here with your expensive clothes thinking you can buy people. Thinking you can buy a baby?" Robert's face grew redder with each word.

"Why did you choose us?" Nina's voice was soft, tentative.

Removing the cigarette from between her lips, she blew out a cloud of smoke. "Because with your looks,—" Gabriella's lips twisted into a smile "—you would give birth to a supermodel."

"You're disgusting," Robert replied through clenched teeth. "Get out!"

"You're making a big deal out of nothing. I get a child, and you get money." She slipped the lighter back into her purse. "Money that you are both in need of."

"Get out." Nina stood up. Her hands balled into the material of her robe. "Please, get out."

"Are you sure you want to turn this offer down?" She kept her attention on Nina as she stood. "Twenty thousand can really come in useful."

Robert walked to the door and opened it. "Your money isn't welcome here."

She laughed, and glanced in his direction. "My money is welcome everywhere."

" _Get out."_

"Why are you so insulted?" She tucked her purse under her arm. "I am offering you twenty thousand dollars to have sex and get pregnant. Once you are pregnant, you will stay in my home as guests. My doctor will see you, take care of you, and then when it is time, he will deliver the baby. As soon as you are well, you may leave. You may leave twenty thousand dollars richer than you are at this very moment. You can get on with your lives, fulfill your dreams. Tell me what is so disagreeable?"

"You want me to get pregnant and sell my baby to you for twenty thousand dollars?" Lines creased Nina's forehead.

"Yes."

"No! It's wrong."

Gabriella shrugged. "Who said it is wrong?"

Nina shook her head. "I won't do that."

"Not even for twenty-five thousand dollars?" Gabriella quirked her right eyebrow. "How much do you want?"

"Get out!" Robert demanded once more.

"Fine." She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small ivory card, which she placed on the vanity table beside Nina. "Call me when you realize this is the best offer you will receive in your lifetime." She walked past Robert and out the door, turning right toward the fire exit.

Gabriella heard the door slam shut as she took another drag of her cigarette. Then the shouting began. She pushed the fire exit open as her smile spread to her ears.

### Chapter One

Twenty-two years later...

It was days like these Razel wished she could bury her head into the sweet California sand.

She loathed the life she had been given. Not that you would ever think it by looking at her. But that had been the first lesson she was taught: a model must always be at her best. She must dazzle her audience no matter where she was or how she was feeling. She must be the embodiment of beauty and perfection.

_The embodiment of beauty and perfection._ The comment mocked in her head.

She had never felt beautiful or perfect. And she especially didn't feel either of those things at the present moment. They had just gotten off their evening flight from Italy when her mother's assistant, Lana, had informed them the press was here to welcome them home. So even though she could hardly keep her eyes open, let alone walk in a straight line, Razel had to stand in an airport restroom getting brushed and rebuffed by her hairstylist and makeup artist. As soon as she stepped through those terminal doors, she would look like she had just woken from the best sleep of her life.

She gazed across the sea of flashing lights, turning slightly every few seconds so the press could get many pictures of her doing exactly the same pose, but at different angles. She was the hottest supermodel of her generation, and it was everything her mother wanted. Her mother who also happened to be her agent and the founder of Ivory Tower Modeling Agency, the most successful agency in the U.S.

"Razel, how was your time in Italy?" a small blonde reporter asked.

She had been to Italy at least once a year since she was eight. It became nothing special after the third visit, but that answer wouldn't be appreciated. She felt the automatic pull of her lips as they lifted in to her famous "Razel Dazzle" smile, and with a bat of her eyelids and her hand resting on her chest, she simply said, _"Fantastico."_

With that, she was left in peace to stand there while her mother continued to sell her in every way she could. She longed to just go home and crawl into her own bed. In truth, it had been a tiring week in Italy. Two catwalks shows, four photo shoots, and socializing and mingling every single night. Not to mention the six interviews she had to give and, on top of that, there was shopping. A lot of shopping. She really hated shopping.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid we have had a long flight, and Razel has a very important day ahead of her. So, if you will excuse us."

Gabriella wrapped her fingers round Razel's elbow, her nails biting into her bare arm; a crystal-clear indication that it was time for them to go.

" _Arrivederci."_ She kept her smile wide as she was escorted away from the crowd. Her mother's grip loosened slowly with each step they took.

"We have a very busy day, Razel. As soon as we get home, you need to cleanse, detoxify, and then spend half an hour in the sauna followed by ten minutes in a cold shower. Then moisturize. You have had too much sun this week, and I don't want your skin dry. Did you drink any water on the flight?"

"I drank two bottles."

"Are you sure?"

"I am positive, Gabriella."

Gabriella. She was never allowed to call her own mother, Mother. It had to be Gabriella. It was always business. She was her agent first, her mother second. Something she would never let Razel forget.

"Right, well, it's the Christmas shoot for _Désir_ this afternoon. I need you looking your best."

"I know," Razel replied, climbing into the white limousine after Gabriella.

"Everything has to be right."

"I understand."

"I hope you do. People are looking to you now for guidance on what to wear this Christmas. You need to be their image of perfection. The woman they wish they were. Your looks, your figure...you are everything they want to be. So, I need you at your best."

The sharp scratch of a laugh clawed at her throat. _Why would any woman want to be me?_ She wasn't even sure if it was a role she enjoyed playing any more.

Gulping away the need to chortle at such a statement, she took a steadying breath. "I _know_ , Gabriella."

"Luckily, the shoot is here, in L.A. so we won't lose too much time travelling. Unfortunately, the photographer's new." Gabriella huffed. "I had Lana fax all your details to him the other week. Apparently, he is 'destined' to be the next biggest thing, whatever that is supposed to mean."

"What's his name?"

"It's...something... P. Prince. I think"

She glanced at Gabriella. "Matthew Prince?"

"I'm not sure."

"I've seen some of his work." She turned her attention to the window, watching as the city rolled by. "He's good."

"Well, he is dealing with a professional. Not some teen wannabe. So he needs to better than good—" She stopped at the sound of her mobile ringing.

Gabriella flipped the phone open and started talking at a hundred miles an hour. It didn't matter. Razel was already too tired to listen to her moan and brag about who they were and who everyone else wasn't. She leaned her head back against the cold leather seat and closed her eyes, basking in the gentle sway of the car as it took her back to Beverly Hills and back to Ivory House.

### ***

Matthew sat to one side of the whitewash studio while allowing his team to set up. He shook his head, laughing to himself as he read the demands' list from Gabriella D'Punz for the tenth time.

"Swedish mineral water, organic vegetable-and-fruit platter, room temperature must be kept at fifty degrees Fahrenheit at all times, no one is to smoke within a one-mile radius. Oh my God." He smirked, taking another mouthful of his coffee. "The life and demands of a supermodel."

He twisted his head in the direction of the studio doors as they smacked against the walls, studying a small entourage of people as they entered. He placed the list and his coffee cup on the table next to him and stood to meet the tall, curvaceous brunette with a face of stone who walked briskly toward him.

"Mr. Prince, I presume?" she asked, her arms crossed and her mobile glued to her hand. "I am Gabriella D'Punz."

"Mrs. D'Punz." He held out his hand.

Her gaze flicked from his hand and then back to his face. "I have sent Razel and my team to start getting ready. I—" Her nose crinkled. "Is someone smoking?"

He withdrew his hand. "I don't believe so."

"I can smell smoke. Did you get my list? I presume you did, looking at the refreshment table." Her attention shifted to the small group of water bottles and trays of finely cut fruit and vegetables.

"Mrs D'Punz—" The ringing of her cell phone cut him off.

Her finger shot up to silence him as she pressed the phone to her ear. Her hazel eyes seemed to glaze over. "Lana, I do not want your excuses. I told you that we needed this meeting set for tomorrow which means I want it set for tomorrow. Is that so difficult?" She hung up and turned her attention back to him. "You're fairly new to this business, are you not, Mr. Prince?"

"Matthew. No, I have actually been a photographer for the last eight years, but I began shooting models five years ago so—"

"As I said, you're fairly new. Razel is the hottest model around, and you should be honored to have her in this studio—" her eyes swept across the room "—let alone be taking her photo. So make subtle suggestions, but she is a professional and will do most of the work as intended." She flipped her phone open as it rang again. "The temperature in here is not fifty degrees. Lower it, please."

She placed the phone to her ear and walked toward the door. He didn't realize he was digging his fingers into his palms until sharp pain sliced up his arms.

"What a bitch," he mumbled, walking over to his camera and then checking the lens.

He had been told about Gabriella D'Punz, well, warned about her. She may have been in this business for years, but arrogance and ill manners were two things he couldn't stand. He rolled his head in a full circle, then stretched, trying to let some of the growing tension fall away. He had seen pictures of Razel. She was indeed beautiful, but with an agent like that...with a _mother_ like that.... She was obviously going to be another egotistical and mouthy beauty queen.

"I do not get paid enough money to put up with this shit." He sighed as Gabriella walked back into the studio and through the dressing room doorway.

The fleeting thought of turning the temperature higher passed through his mind, and he found himself chuckling softly to himself.

"Jamie?"

"Yeah?" His lighting engineer appeared in front of him.

"Will you turn the thermostat down to forty- five degrees please?"

"Are you sure? It might get a bit cold."

"It is what her wicked bitchness wants."

A tiny smirk spread on Jamie's lips. "In that case, consider it done."

A moment later, the door of the dressing room opened, and Gabriella walked out, followed by her team.

"Mr. Prince, may I introduce you to Razel D'Punz."

She stepped out of the way, and he was greeted by a set of ice-blue eyes framed by long, black lashes.

His heartbeat seemed to quicken as he stepped forward and extended his hand. A small smile fluttered across Razel's ruby red lips as she placed her slender right hand into his left. Her skin, feather soft and almost as white as snow. He raised her hand to his lips, and then pressed a soft kiss upon her knuckles. The smell of coco butter and honey flooded his senses.

"It's a pleasure, Miss D'Punz," he commented, meeting her gaze and releasing her hand.

He had seen many pictures of the young model but looking at her in person, no photo would ever do her justice. She wasn't beautiful. She was flawless...breathtaking.

Her oval face beheld a slender nose and high cheekbones. Her trademark long, golden hair was curled and fell down her shoulders. She looked so pure and innocent next to her witch of a mother.

"How would you like me?" Her voice was like a gentle whisper in his head.

A collision of unexpected and very unprofessional thoughts erupted in his mind, taking him by surprise. The thought of them being alone and Razel allowing that red velvet dress she wore to slide off her body. Of her lying before him, her long hair draped across her naked flesh, teasing him by covering her breasts and sex. His pants became tighter, and heat surged through his body. He coughed, attempting to cover the moan that longed to break from his lips. He could feel everyone's eyes burning into him.

"If you would just like to start near the tree; pretend you're decorating it. There is a small box of baubles there for your props."

Her mother escorted her to the Christmas tree. The velvet caressed every inch of her body. It seemed to dance across her skin with each step she took, almost mocking him. He found himself suddenly and absurdly hating that dress. Hating the way it hugged her graceful curves.

He took a deep breath and focused on checking his camera.

He could see Gabriella fussing over her. Moving her hair off her right shoulder, exposing the milky skin beneath...the gentle dip of the nape of her neck...the top of her right breast....

He pulled his focus from her. "Are we ready?"

Gabriella grunted, handing Razel the box before walking out of the shot.

"Ready when you are, Mr. Prince," Razel answered, her mouth curved to one side.

"Matthew," he corrected her. "Please call me Matthew."

She nodded, picking a gold decoration from the box and holding it up to the tree. He began taking pictures, captivated by the way she moved around the set; comfortable, almost as if she were home within the small space.

"Smile, Razel," Gabriella snapped.

Razel's lips turned upward at the command. Her right shoulder dipped forward slightly as her head tilted down and to the right. There it was; her dazzling smile.

He stared through the lens in astonishment. The shy, young girl who had walked out of the dressing room had disappeared. The woman looking back at him reeked of confidence and sheer sexuality.

He forced his finger to press the button and continue taking pictures, but he couldn't help wonder who she truly was. Was she the shy girl, quiet and almost expressionless, or the confident woman who craved attention?

Not that it mattered, but he had heard she was a creature of little words. Some of his colleagues had called her a china doll: beautiful, silent, and brittle. She only spoke when spoken to, mainly because Gabriella never let her get a word in edgeways. But looking at her now, she didn't look like a china doll, not to him.

Just like Gabriella had said, Razel placed the box down and began improvising. She walked over to the chaise lounge and picked up the white fur blanket, throwing it around herself so it draped across her shoulders.

Matthew took the camera off its stand and threw the strap over his head while walking closer to her. She turned her back to him as he approached. His steps faltered and he became transfixed as she lowered the blanket, exposing the graceful slope of her neck. Her curls brushed against her skin as she turned to him, her smile now replaced with a full pout.

His palms were moist as he lifted the camera to his eye. He pressed the button in rapid succession; his focus latching on to the delicate curve of her right shoulder blade. On her golden hair that was so vibrant and rich as it hung down her back and stopped at her ankles.

Her long mane and her show-stopping smile had won her the title of hottest model of her generation. Her smile had been crowned as her humiliating _'Razel Dazzle smile'_ by some teen magazine when she was younger. Except, none of the pictures he had seen of her did her true beauty any justice. She deserved the title of a supermodel, but beautiful was too dull a word for what he saw in front of him.

Forcing his attention away from her, he walked to the chaise lounge.

"Shall we try one of you sitting down?" he asked, looking up at her.

She nodded and walked over to the crimson sofa and positioned herself comfortably. He knelt down in front of her, bringing the camera back to his eye.

He stared into her glacial irises and found himself thinking that her gaze was more frightening than her mother's. Gabriella was threatening and had a vicious air to her, but Razel, her eyes seemed to contain sadness, maybe pain. The thought didn't sit well with him. He found he wanted to know why she was sad. He wanted to soothe any pain she might ever feel.

_Not again!_ The warning in his mind rang crystal clear as he admired her beautiful face through the lens.

His heart hammered anxiously in his chest as his attention was drawn to her plump red lips. She was a secret, and one he wanted to uncover.

### *****

Matthew took his time packing away his camera, observing the hushed discussion taking place between Gabriella and Razel. The older woman's lips moved without stopping, her eyes rolling once in a while as her eyebrows arched, but Razel's face remained placid as though she were completely unaffected by everything being said to her.

At the irritating ring of a mobile, Gabriella stormed out of the studio. His attention moved to Razel but she was already approaching him. His throat became dry as the exotic thoughts of them naked together danced in his mind.

_What is wrong with you?_ he asked himself as his body turned in response to her sudden presence.

"Miss D'Punz," he managed to mumble. He stroked his tongue along the roof of his mouth, forcing moisture to appear so he could actually speak to her.

"Please, call me Razel." The smile that graced her lips was soft. "I just wanted to say it was a pleasure working with you, Mr. Prince. When I found out that the shoot for _Désir_ was with you, well, I have seen some of your photographs. You have an eye for detail."

"I will call you Razel if you call me Matthew."

"Matthew. Of course, I apologize."

"Thank you, and believe me, the pleasure was all mine. It's a privilege to work with someone so beautiful."

"Thank you."

A blush tainted her cheeks. The sight was both sweet and incredibly erotic, and certainly not the reaction he would have expected from a model, especially one so beautiful. He couldn't even recall the last time he had seen such a reaction from a woman, but he liked the stain of pink on her pale skin.

He paused, drinking her in for a moment. Heated cheeks, a mouth for kissing, eyes so deep, and hair you could get lost in....She was striking. He couldn't stop the question from falling out his mouth. "I don't suppose you would care to join me for a drink?"

"I'm afraid I can't."

He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. His focus slipped to the floor. "I apologize. Such a proposition is completely unprofessional." He met her gaze. "Please forgive me."

She walked closer to him. His muscles tensed. "No, it's not that. I would love to have a drink with you, I really would, but I'm afraid it isn't possible."

His brow creased. "Oh, I see."

"Gabriella doesn't allow me to go out—"

"With photographers?"

A full smile stretched across her face. "She doesn't let me out to socialize unless it will somehow boost my status and career. Apparently, making friends is completely underrated."

"Well, I don't think having a drink with me will boost your career, but I've been told I'm decent company."

She laughed lightly.

"I am completely respectable, if that would help win her over? I do intend to be socializing with you for the entire time."

"Surely not the entire time?" Her blush deepened, but her gaze held his firmly.

The remark had caught him off guard. "Well, that all depends, I suppose." Had he heard her correctly?

"Oh? Depends on what exactly?"

He shoved his hands into his pockets to stop himself from touching her. "On what else you would have in mind."

"Oh well, I have a few things—" her smile widened "—in mind."

He could have sworn he heard the seam of his jeans rip. The rough material seemed to be grating his skin as his cock hardened. The overpowering want to pull her into his arms, claim her mouth, and have his way with her on top of the white fur blanket ran through him.

Oh sure, you're respectable, all right.

For all he knew, she could be talking about going to see a show or something civil and ordinary, and here he was having boyish fantasies about screwing a supermodel.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Her eyes burned with unmistakable interest, but before he could give his reply, the studio doors crashed against the walls and tension consumed Razel's slender body.

"Razel, what are you doing?" Gabriella snapped from the doorway.

"Just saying good-bye," she replied, before looking up into his eyes. "I hope to work with you again, Mr. Prince."

"Likewise, Miss D'Punz."

"Come, Razel," Gabriella barked.

"Perhaps we will see each other again?"

His voice crept into a whisper as he took her hand and placed it to his lips. "I am sure we will."

She pulled her hand from his and walked out the studio door.

"Mrs D'Punz." He dipped his head toward Gabriella.

She studied him one last time and then let the door slam shut behind her.

### Chapter Two

Matthew knocked back the remaining water in his glass, half listening to his old friend, Craig. They were out having lunch and he hadn't been able to concentrate for the entire meal. His mind was swamped with thoughts of ice-blue eyes gazing up at him through a curtain of sunshine hair.

"Matthew?"

Something hit his face; blinking, he looked down at the empty plate before him, which had acquired a balled-up, red napkin. He glanced at Craig.

"Glad to know that my life is so interesting to you, my friend."

He raked his fingers through his shoulder-length black hair and sighed. "Sorry. My thoughts are miles away."

"You seem restless. What's up?" Craig leaned back in his chair, waiting for a reply.

"I just have something on my mind."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I assure you, Craig, it's nothing...."

Craig had helped him from the black hole he'd dug himself into only three years earlier because of one woman. Letting his friend know another woman was troubling his thoughts wouldn't be the best idea, especially since he already knew what Craig's answer to any problem relating to women would be. _"They're not worth it."_

"It's nothing too serious," he finished.

"Well, if you're sure."

"I am."

The waiter came to the table, placing a small black tray with the bill resting on it in the middle. Matthew leaned forward and had his hand brushed away by Craig.

"I insist." His friend read the bill, and then handed his credit card to the waiter.

"Is that? It can't be!"

The sound of a young female squeaking pulled Matthew's attention.

"Oh, what is she called?"

"Razel D'Punz?"

Matthew swung his head to the table beside them where three young women sat. Their heads were all turned toward the main door of the restaurant.

"Yeah, it is."

"Look at her hair."

"It's so long."

"How does she cope?"

His heartbeat picked up speed as he turned his head toward the restaurant door. Razel's attention was focused on the restaurant manager who greeted both her and Gabriella. She wore an off-the-shoulder, black cashmere dress that stopped just above her knees. Her hair was pulled back and tied into a high ponytail, drawing attention to her slender neck and delicate features.

Razel followed Gabriella through the restaurant to a table in the far corner. The manager held a chair out for Gabriella and then Razel, before leaving them alone. Gabriella raised her mobile to her ear and Razel took the opportunity to glance around the restaurant. Her gaze fell on Matthew almost instantly, and her lips twitched as if she wanted to smile. He tipped his head in greeting, and she turned back to Gabriella who had placed her phone on the table.

"Would she be what is on your mind at the moment?" Craig asked from across the table.

"Can I not say hello to someone I have worked with?" he answered, turning to his friend.

"Of course you can, but you might want to wipe the drool from the side of your mouth. It's not very professional, or attractive."

"As always, Craig, it has been a pleasure." Matthew stood up and extended his hand.

"Women aren't worth the headache," the other man commented, standing and taking Matthew firmly by the hand.

"I don't have a headache." He laughed, looking over at Razel who had stood up.

"Not yet." Craig smirked as he let go of his hand.

Matthew tracked Razel's movement across the restaurant. Her focus was fixed on him the whole time until she turned into an archway with the sign "Restrooms" hanging above.

"I will see you soon."

"What are you doing?" Craig's forehead scrunched.

"I'm going to make sure I get that drool off my face." He grinned and headed toward the restrooms.

He stepped through the archway and stopped at the sight of Razel leaning against the red wall.

"Mr. Prince." She beamed. "How nice it is to see you again, and so soon."

She pushed herself from the wall. He couldn't move, so he drank her in, noting the way her cashmere dress clung to the curves of her waist. The hypnotic sway of her hips as she moved closer to him caused heat to swirl in the pit of his stomach.

A smile broke on his lips. "And it is very nice to see you."

"Are you here on business or pleasure?"

"A little of both. I was just having lunch with an old friend of mine."

"I see. I hope I am not interrupting."

"Not at all. Craig has left and I—" He stopped as she reached up and cupped his cheek. Leaning in, she pressed her soft lips against his. His hands twitched at his sides as he fought the sudden need to pull her close and devour her. He had followed her in hopes to speak to her even though he had no idea what they would have spoken about, but this...this was better.

She pulled away before he could react. Dropping her arm to her side, she tilted her head and met his gaze. "Forgive me. I was just curious as to what that would feel like. You were saying?"

"I—I wanted to come and say hello."

Her cheeks glowed pink. Her mouth curved to the right. "Hello."

"I think you aren't as shy as you pretend to be, Miss D'Punz."

She laughed lightly. "I don't pretend to be shy, Mr. Prince. People naturally assume I am because the witch won't let me speak for myself. So, after sixteen years of modeling, I have learned just to stay quiet in her presence and let her do all the talking."

"I see."

"I hope you do."

"I would still like to take you out for a drink."

She moved away from him. "And I would accept, but—"

"You're not allowed."

With a single nod, she rested her left hip against the wall.

"What would I have to do to get you to myself for a while?"

She sighed and smiled gently at him. "That, I'm afraid, is a mystery. She hardly lets me out of her sight."

"You're alone now."

"And in another minute, I have to go or she will send out a search party for me." The humorous comment was smothered in acid as it rolled off her tongue. "But next week just so happens to be the Ivory Tower's annual Christmas gala, which is being held in New York this year." A grin curled on her lips. "And I believe you might have been invited."

"I believe so. I think I received my invitation last week."

She stood up straight, a twinkle in her eyes. "Then...maybe I will see you there?"

"Only if you promise to save me a dance?"

"Oh, I promise." She smiled and walked past him. "Good-bye, Matthew."

"Good-bye, Razel." His smile broadened as he counted to ten, before stepping through the archway and making his escape from the restaurant.

### *****

By ten o'clock, Razel was thankful to be lying in her bed. Gabriella had talked non-stop during their meal, both to Razel and on her damn mobile. But her thoughts were focused completely on Matthew Prince and their few private minutes together.

Matthew Prince. His name had been rolling around her head for the last three days. There was something about him. Something different. He wasn't like any of the other men she had ever been introduced to. He didn't seem to care about money, or even looks. He seemed...down-to-earth. Real.

She could still feel his chocolate brown eyes gazing at her through the lens of his camera at their photo shoot. She shuddered at the reoccurring daydream of feeling his hands on her skin. She wanted to be naked with him, to run her fingers through his black hair and nibble at his full bottom lip. She wanted to feel his stubble tickling her cheek and neck, to smooth her hands over the plains of his back and chest.

The sight of him today had flooded her with intense heat, and her panties had grown moist with each second she had spent within his presence. His eyes had rooted her to the spot just like they had pinned her to every section of the set during the photo shoot. There was something so very raw about him, masculine, but tender.

All she could think about was having him between her thighs, him driving into her, and riding her hard under the continual fall of snow. A daydream she couldn't fully enjoy since she had Gabriella breathing down her neck every single second of the day. Seeing him again had only thrown gasoline on the raging fire inside her. She would have dragged him inside the restroom with her if she could have.

She wasn't shy around men; well, at least when she had the chance to be around men, had the chance to talk to them and flirt in good humor and fun. Knowing she would never be with any of them made it all the more exhilarating just to speak freely and provocatively. As pathetic as it was, she just hungered for a little excitement from her busy routine. She longed for the forbidden.

Men were forbidden.

She'd had a lover in secret, though. A fact she wasn't ashamed of due to Gabriella not letting her date. The day she finally did get to date, it would be a man chosen by Gabriella. Hell, it would probably be an arranged marriage. But despite Dominic being her only lover, she had learned a few things from him.

Dominic was a friend of Gabriella's. He usually stayed at Ivory House when he was on business in California. Razel had always had a crush on him, ever since she was fifteen-years-old. He wasn't a typical kind of businessman. He had tanned skin and bright blond hair. You wouldn't have guessed he was thirty-three, but that was just Dominic. He had grown up around supermodels and the obsessive thought and knowledge of perfection had gotten to him.

He had come to stay for a week when Razel was nineteen. Gabriella had left the house to attend an emergency meeting downtown, and Razel had just finished her hour's session in the pool. On the way to her bedroom, she had bumped into Dominic. She had purposely dropped her towel on the floor, which he took his time picking up as he perused her damp and exposed flesh. But as he went to hand it to her, she simply walked past him, pushing her bedroom door wide. She had taken one look at him, smiled casually, and walked into her room leaving the door open in invitation. Without hesitation, he had followed her, locked the door, and had her in bed for two hours straight.

They were lovers on and off until he told Razel he had proposed to his girlfriend. Then after that, he stopped coming to the house. He settled on phone calls every month and private dinners with Gabriella at some hip restaurant. But Razel didn't care; she had gotten everything she'd wanted from him. She had taken a man without Gabriella's permission or knowledge. She had made a decision for herself; took one part of her life into her own hands, if only for a short period of time. She had been in control.

Matthew was different, though. Sure, she had been attracted to men, had thought about what it would be like to sleep with them, but she had never actually craved a man. Not even Dominic. She had never been so curious about the facts; to know his scent, the sound of his laugh, or even how his hand would feel tangled with her own. She had never been so affected by the idea of intimacy, but there was something about his eyes; something warm, and gentle even though she felt transparent every time he turned his attention on her; like he could see her, _really_ see her. The idea of being so exposed to someone...it took her breath away.

She slid her hand across her abdomen and inside her soaked panties, slowly teasing herself with one finger.

She closed her eyes, and Matthew's face appeared clearly in her mind. She could almost imagine how his hands would feel against her flesh; how his grip would tighten around her thighs as he pushed them apart. His body would be hot and hard, pressing down on her as he pushed deep inside her, sending waves of heat swimming through her body.

She slid another finger between her wet cleft and gasped as her core tightened.

She longed to feel the weight of him on top of her as they rocked together in a heated frenzy. To feel him pumping deep within her while he delivered kisses to every inch of her skin. She just wanted to hear him call her name as every sensation imaginable washed over them.

She bit back her throaty moans as her hips rocked violently. Heat exploded between her thighs. Small sparks of pleasure rolled over her skin as she collapsed with a breathless sigh.

The Christmas gala would be the only chance they would have to be together. God only knew how she was going to get rid of Gabriella, but she had to do something because Matthew was an itch she needed to scratch—repeatedly.

### *****

Five days. He had to wait five more days before he could see her again. The shoot had gone well. The photos were excellent, even if he did say so himself, and the editors of _Désir_ were very pleased with the selection, so, all in all, it had been a successful day.

But Matthew couldn't remove the tight knot that had grown in his chest from the moment she had left the restaurant.

He sat at his desk flicking through her pictures for the hundredth time. Her frosty eyes seem to burn through to his very soul on every shot. Secrets swirled within them, hid on her lips, and in her smile.

He leaned back, stretching his arms above his head, listening to the tiny crunch of his tense muscles popping. He hadn't expected to see her again, had hoped he wouldn't. He found many women attractive, but it had been a while since one had managed to get under his skin. And Razel...she was a fever that was taking control of his entire body.

He pulled up an image of her kneeling at the foot of the Christmas tree.

He sighed as he studied the picture. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

She held a present in both her hands, and she was biting into her lush bottom lip, debating whether to open it or not. The corners of her mouth had curled slightly as if she were going to laugh. Her eyes sparkled with sheer excitement. He was a good photographer with an eye for detail and these were brilliant pictures, but the camera just didn't seem to do her enough justice.

He opened his desk drawer, retrieving a large red envelope from which he pulled out a white invitation engraved with silver writing. He skimmed over the main details of the invitation.

### Mr. Matthew Declan Prince

### You are cordially invited to

### The Ivory Tower Christmas Gala 2010

### At the Hilton Hotel, New York

### on

### Wednesday 8th December

### at

### 8:30 pm in the Trianon Ballroom

### This year's festive theme is a masked costumed ball.

### We look forward to seeing you.

"Fantastic. Fancy dress." He laughed, placing the invitation down on his desk and leaning toward his computer. "You're getting dragged along to this monstrosity, and you can't even come out for a simple drink?" he said to Razel's photo. "That is terribly cruel."

How ridiculous. Not being allowed to go out for something as simple as a drink. Although he would be lying if he said that was all he wanted from their evening. He yearned to know how she tasted. He craved to know how soft her skin was. If her hair was like silk.

"For God's sake, pull yourself together. She is only a woman." He shut down his computer and walked into his kitchen, taking a bottle of beer from the fridge and popping the cap.

Only a woman. As if that had ever stopped him.

He had been young and foolish when he began taking pictures of models. And being too vain himself, he was flattered by the attention they returned in exchange for his. He had taken most of his clients' models to bed, always by their own will. They were all wannabes. Wanted to be stars, thought their beauty was the way to go. Cheap beauty. For some reason, they thought bedding him would help their career. Being younger and overwhelmed by such women, he never disagreed with their presumptions.

Yes, he had been living the high life. He had worked his ass off all day, had small exhibitions of his other work some evenings, and every other night, a new woman in his bed. For some reason, they found him mysterious. But that was mostly because he took after his mother. Her rich Italian good looks and vibrancy had passed to him, making him seem broody and exotic, but he was an American. Born and bred. There was nothing mysterious or exotic about him.

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, before knocking half of the beer back.

His life had been fantastic, and then Carmen had walked in. She was intoxicating; with her mocha skin, golden-brown eyes, and the thickest chestnut hair he had ever sunk his fingers into.

She came to one of his exhibitions. He could still remember the way her black, low-cut dress clung to her voluptuous body. Her hair had been pinned to one side and thrown over her right shoulder. She came to him that night with one purpose and one alone: to seduce him. And she did.

He fell over himself for her for two years.

After being with her for ten months, he proposed and agreed to the terms that they waited two years before they set a date. She didn't want to be tied down completely because she wanted her career. As a career-driven man, he understood. A year and two months later, she told him she had been sleeping with another man for the last seven months, and she was going to marry him. Like a heartbroken fool, he begged her not to leave. Asked why she would marry another man and not him.

" _He is rich, and you are poor,"_ she answered heartlessly and then walked out of his life.

Looking back now, he realized she wasn't making enough money and didn't know anyone. She had talked him into letting her move in with him and simply bided her time. Back then, he had been her only hope. She probably thought he would boost her career somehow and when she realized that wasn't the case, she had run into a rich man's arms but had kept him along for the ride in case she got nowhere with her new quest.

For a year, his work suffered. He bedded every woman he could just so he would forget her. And then one day, Craig showed up at his door and punched him. He had missed the exhibition Craig had held for him at his studio the night before. But as always, Craig listened to him and after taking another look at him and how messed up his life had become, had promised to help. And he had. For eight months, he helped pull Matthew out of his depression.

He owed most of his success to Craig because Lord knows where he would be at this point in time if his friend hadn't helped. Craig got him on the books as a photographer for one of the top modeling agencies, Red 104, and that was when his career started to move forward. He worked for Red 104 for two years, and then began doing freelance work after the hundredth phone call he got asking him to shoot for this magazine or for that magazine. He had started to build a good reputation as a photographer, and people liked his work. For the first time in a long time, he was happy.

He had dated at least four women over the last three years, but each relationship had only been casual and lasted a few months. At the end of each, he had thrown himself into his photography; it consumed too much of his time for him to care about another failed relationship. If that's what you could call any of them.

Craig had only one motto in life, which he, so helpfully, reminded him of when he had caught Matthew looking at Razel during their lunch earlier today. _"Women aren't worth the headache."_ A motto Matthew couldn't agree with. Even after everything Carmen had put him through. Maybe some women weren't worth it, but there would be someone, one day, who would be.

He downed the rest of his beer and threw the bottle in the trash can.

"Not worth the headache," he muttered to himself as he walked back to his desk and sat down.

Razel hadn't given him a headache, but she was definitely going to be staying up there for a while. He leaned his head back and stared at his ceiling, wondering yet again what it would feel like to sink his fingers into her golden hair.

"I'm in trouble." He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

She had promised to save him a dance if he went to the gala. Apart from this one _ridiculous_ party, he had no idea if he would ever get to see her again. It shouldn't matter. He shouldn't see her again; things would be a lot easier if he didn't.

"I suppose the real question is 'are women worth the humiliation?'." He switched the computer back on, grabbed the invitation, and read it again. "A _masked_ costume ball...."

He laughed as Craig's reply jumped into his head. " _No woman is worth_ that _humiliation_."

He typed his password into the computer, and waited for the screen to load.

He shouldn't want to see her, but he did. He shouldn't want to know how she felt, how she tasted, but he did. He shouldn't want to know what food she liked or what she thought about when she was alone. He shouldn't want to know what her favorite music was or what she did when she wasn't modeling, if she did anything at all, but he did. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Razel D'Punz; the real Razel. No makeup. No costumes. No lights or camera.

He shook his head, pulled up a search engine and typed "costumes for rent."

### Chapter Three

The Ivory Tower Christmas gala was the last and the hottest social event of the year.

Matthew arrived at ten. He had never really been one for social events. He was surprised he'd even gotten an invitation. Gabriella was not shy in showing her dislike toward him, but he knew the only reason he received an invitation was because of the name he was making for himself in this industry. People like him had to be at events like this otherwise there would be talk, and Gabriella wanted nothing but good publicity, especially when her own daughter and supermodel just had a photo shoot with him for _Désir_. It was the first time he had ever been invited to this event, and the minute he stepped in the door he was certain this would be the only one he would attend.

His attention immediately snapped to the center of the ballroom where a gigantic Christmas tree stood. A giant white pine professionally decorated with white-and-blue lights and white-and-silver baubles, all to match the style of this year's ballroom, no doubt. Each ornament had a purpose, each light shone brightly, and the star on top glistened like a diamond. _Probably_ is _a diamond_. The hall was white and silver and the lighting as dim as it possibly could be in such a bright room. Matthew's focus moved to the floor; mist seemed to travel along the surface.

"Oh dear God," he said louder than he meant to.

Dry ice. He had no idea where it was coming from, but it danced along the floor, giving a cheesy fairytale, winter magic feel to the party. The entire room looked like a designer winter wonderland. Everyone was dressed up in the highest quality costumes he had ever seen. He reached out and grabbed a glass of champagne from the nearest waiter and knocked it back in an attempt to smother his amusement.

He made his way across the floor, his eyes constantly searching for the only reason he was attending this party. He could see Cinderellas, Sleeping Beauties, and a Beauty with her Beast. Not to mention Robin Hoods, Prince Charmings, and all the animal type, non-degrading costumes you could think of. Throw in a few overly dressed milkmaids and some musketeers, and he knew he would be having nightmares of this night for the next year.

His gaze roamed over the crowd as he made his way toward the bar, searching for the ice-blue eyes, the milk-white skin, and that golden, long, unforgettable hair. His focus skirted across the jazz band upon the stage, dressed all in white and doing their own version of classic Christmas songs.

He stopped at the bar and ordered a scotch on the rocks, still frantically searching for Razel. _Where is she?_

"Please don't tell me I got dressed up for nothing?" he mumbled to himself as he turned and accepted his drink from the server.

_It would serve you right,_ the voice in his head echoed.

And so it would. Getting dressed up just to come to a stupid party to see her, and for what? In hope that he could take her to the elevator and talk to her, maybe have his wicked way with her? As if he could get her out of Gabriella's grasp long enough to actually spend time with her. He sighed, slamming the glass down onto the bar. Why was he even bothering? He hardly knew her, but he wanted to. He _really_ wanted to.

"I heard you had a shoot with Razel D'Punz?"

He turned to be greeted by a familiar tanned face. "Lewis?" He laughed at the sight of his friend. "What are you?"

Lewis' platinum, blond hair was slicked back. He wore thick black tights and riding boots, a red cotton shirt with chain mail over the top, and a long blue hooded cloak. A plastic sword hung from his thick brown belt, and he carried a medium-sized shield on his arm, the image of a golden lion resting on its blue background.

"A knight." Lewis bowed. "A knight of the Round Table."

"And I—" a hand clasped Matthew's left shoulder "—am a musketeer."

He turned to see Stefan behind him. A ridiculous black curled wig sat on top of his head, accompanied by a large black hat with a long white feather. He wore a burgundy jacket, black tights, and black boots. A fencing sword hung from the belt around his waist.

"Oh, dear Lord." Matthew laughed, turning to his former colleagues. "I'm afraid you both look ridiculous."

"Nonsense." Stefan grinned. "We're the sheer definition of fabulous. No one can pull these outfits off better than us."

"Whatever makes you feel better for wearing that monstrosity on your head."

"As I was saying—" Lewis accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter "—I heard you had a shoot with Razel D'Punz?"

"That's right. It went well."

"Isn't Gabriella charming?" Stefan laughed.

"Of course. What's not to like about her?" He kept his face straight while his colleagues glanced at one another. "I mean, considering a house just landed on her sister, she is taking everything extremely well."

"You got the list?" Lewis laughed.

"What the hell is the deal with the temperature?"

"Razel is not allowed to sweat," Stefan answered. "If she does, fanatics will appear from nowhere like mischievous sprites and bottle each drop and then sell it on eBay for millions."

Matthew joined in with the laughter, but the thought of Razel wriggling beneath him as her body glistened with sweat slammed into his mind, nearly knocking the air from his very lungs.

He would make her sweat, if he got the chance. And then he would lick each sweet drop from every inch of her flawless skin.

"They didn't even eat the platter or drink the damn water," he commented, snapping out of his intoxicating daydream.

"Of course they didn't. They only ask because they can." Lewis placed his empty glass on the tray of a passing waitress. "You better be careful, though. If you have the honor of photographing the beautiful Razel again, the witch will expect you to remember that list; word for word, and right down to the very last detail."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Somehow, I doubt I will be on Gabriella D'Punz's best friends list."

"She didn't take to you?" Lewis arched an eyebrow. "Funny, you seem like her type."

"Thankfully, I'm not." He also doubted Gabriella would be all too happy if she found out he was rendezvous-ing with her supermodel outside restaurant restrooms.

"Did you make sure no one was smoking?" Stefan asked with a chuckle.

"How am I supposed to know who is indulging in a little nicotine within the building?"

"You know what the funny thing is, Matt?" Lewis rested a hand on his shoulder. "Gabriella smokes."

"What?" The skin of his brow tightened. "Just not around Razel, I imagine."

"Razel is a china doll. So fragile," Stefan replied.

"I doubt that very much," he mumbled, gazing round the room once more.

"For your own sake, don't gain a personal interest in Razel D'Punz. The poor girl isn't even allowed out on her own." Lewis accepted another glass of champagne from a waiter.

"So I've been told. I just can't understand why."

"Young girls today are so impressionable." Stefan shrugged. "Perhaps Gabriella fears her daughter will ruin herself with drugs, alcohol, and sex?"

Lewis stared at him. "No, you mean she is afraid that Razel will ruin her body and therefore her career?"

"The world as we know it would end."

"So she doesn't give her the choice, then?" Matthew glanced between them. "She just keeps her locked up in a tight schedule of work?"

"Afraid so." Lewis took a swig of his champagne. "What is life for one so beautiful, but an endless chain of work to remain so?"

Stefan gasped, dramatically. "Speak of the devil, and she shall appear."

Matthew followed his gaze along the line of turning heads to see Gabriella walking through the main doors. Her brown, wavy hair was high up on her head with a gold crown resting on top. Her crimson dress hugged her waist and breasts and then widened from the hips down. On her bodice were the four symbols of suites in a deck of cards. She held a black-and-white mask in her hand with the same symbols upon it.

"The queen of hearts, it would appear." Lewis stole the words from his lips.

Matthew had half expected her to be dressed as the wicked witch of the West, or Maleficent, or some other power-mad fairytale villain.

Stefan sighed. "She's a bitch, but she looks fabulous for her age."

Gabriella turned and the doors opened again, and there she was. Razel's dress was off-white silk. The bodice hugged her waist tightly and was lined with silver jewels. Just like the simple white mask that rested against her face. The sleeves of the dress became wider at her elbows, and the skirt fell into a train behind her. Her shoulders and neck were bare, but her hair had been plaited to one side and rested on her left shoulder, falling neatly all the way down to her ankles. As she walked into the room, the lighting reflected off the jewels weaved in her plait, giving the illusion that her locks had been dipped in fairy dust.

Heat flooded through his body at the sight of her. _She is worth the humiliation_. The thought danced in his head.

Her famous smile snapped into place as she walked past people who nodded and smiled in her direction. She followed Gabriella farther into the crowd, her focus sweeping over the entire room. Hopefully, she was looking for him.

"Well, gentlemen, if you will excuse me." Matthew smiled, walking past his colleagues.

"Oh, Matthew?" Lewis stopped him.

"Yes?"

"You never told us who you came as," Lewis commented, looking at his costume in confusion.

"I thought it was obvious." He peered down at his outfit. "It only seems right that I came as a prince."

Stefan laughed. "Fair enough, but which one exactly?"

Matthew turned his attention to Razel who stood sipping a glass of champagne just a few feet away from the Christmas tree, her gaze still searching the crowded room.

"The one who is looking for Rapunzel," he replied and walked toward the tree.

### ***

Razel's heart sank with each passing second. He wasn't here. He said he would be, but he wasn't. She had planned this chance of being with him for the last five days, and he hadn't come.

They had been here five minutes and in another ten, Gabriella would get an unexpected phone call with a mouth-watering opportunity to drag her away from an event she wished she had never begun in the first place.

Razel knocked back the remaining champagne and then placed the flume on a passing waitress' tray. She might never see Matthew again. Opportunities were slim, and Gabriella made sure she was kept busy. This would be the one chance she would have to take life into her hands, even if only for the evening. That thought caused her heart to hit the pit of her stomach.

She sighed, looking around the room once more, trying to avoid eye contact. Eye contact would lead to conversation, and she didn't feel like acting perfect tonight. She admired the beautiful Christmas tree that stood in the center of the room and found herself wondering if she would ever get to decorate one. Gabriella had never let her.

" _Why would you want to spend your time doing something so tedious when other people get paid to do it for you?"_ Gabriella had said to her when she was ten and had asked if she could help hang the baubles on their tree.

A familiar dull ache formed in her chest.

This was her life—her "perfect" life—that she was wrapped so tightly in by high-quality cotton, she was unable to breathe. She closed her eyes, blinking back the tears trying to escape. But that's what tonight would have been about. Being naughty and breaking the rules. Rebelling. Knowing what it would be like to be free from work and routine, just for one night. Deciding on something she wanted and taking it upon herself to get it. Just like she had done with Dominic. He was forbidden, and she'd had him. Men were distractions, time wasters. Men weren't a factor in her life or her profession. Men were a big no-no, and boy, did Gabriella hate Matthew.

Matthew.

A wave of pleasure rippled over her skin at the sheer thought of him. Everything was chosen for her. She wasn't allowed to talk to anyone, be with anyone. She wanted to spend time with him, and she would have if he had bothered to show up.

_If I am allowed one wish in this lifetime_ , she thought while looking up at the star on the tree, _please help me find a way out. I just want a normal life that I can work for on my own. The choice to be with whoever I want to be with._

The star glistened in reply.

She took in the rest of the tree, studying the twinkling lights and exquisite decorations. Her gaze landed on a man who stood beside the tree, watching her. Her brow furrowed as she stared back at the tall stranger. An all too familiar smile blossomed on the male's face. Her heart shot back up into her chest and began to beat so loudly she swore it drowned out the music of the jazz band. She peeped at Gabriella, who was still deep in conversation with a small group of people, before casually making her way over to the tree. She was too eager to reach the present that waited for her.

She skirted around the tree, weaving between the guests, and out of Gabriella's sight, her attention fixated on the beautiful, chocolate-colored eyes framed by a black, velvet eye mask.

"Mr. Prince, you made it." She couldn't stop her smile from spreading across her lips.

His hair was slicked back and tucked behind his ears, drawing her attention to his strong, square jaw and tall forehead. He wore a cream ruffled shirt, the caramel skin of his chest exposed due to the v-neck collar. The black pants hugged his thighs, making every delicious muscle visible. His long red velvet jacket remained unbuttoned, but she noticed the beautiful yet plain detailed embroidery along the button line. Topped off with black riding boots, it was as though he had just stepped out of a fairytale.

Her heart flipped as he stepped closer to her. She could feel her limbs beginning to melt.

"May I say you look simply beautiful?"

"As do you."

He held his hand out to her. "May I?"

"As long as we stay on this side of the tree, you may." She placed her hand in his, and he waltzed her into the crowd as the music stayed at a slow and steady pace. "I see you are not a fan of tights like so many other men here tonight."

"I'm not a fan of costumes, to be honest," he replied with a faint smile.

"And yet, you have come all the way from California to a costume ball in New York?" She bit her lip as he wound his right arm round her waist and pulled her against him.

"What can I say, I'm a romantic." His eyes stayed on hers. "Truth is, I wanted to see you."

"Well." Heat blossomed in her cheeks. "I'm glad you came, because I wanted to talk about that possible meeting of ours." She broke their eye contact and scanned around trying to determine if anyone was listening.

His brow furrowed for a moment before realization twinkled in his eyes. "Ah, the meeting." He played along.

"I would very much like to go ahead with it." She met his gaze. "Would twelve be okay?"

"Twelve is perfect."

"Excellent." She stopped dancing and extended her hand to him. "I shall see you at twelve then, Mr. Prince."

He took her hand and smiled as her hotel key card pressed into his skin. "At twelve." He leaned forward and kissed her knuckles gently.

"Now I must go. Gabriella will want to leave."

His left eyebrow arched. "So soon?"

"I'm afraid some urgent business is about to come to her attention."

He nodded, confusion dancing along his features, but she smiled and walked away. She could feel his eyes burning into the exposed flesh of her back, and she shuddered. He was here and her well-planned night would not go to waste.

Gabriella excused herself from the small group of people and answered her mobile. Razel stopped within earshot of the conversation.

"Yes?" Gabriella answered the phone. "I'm afraid I am busy at my company ball in New York."

Razel diverted her focus to the floor, hiding her amusement as Gabriella continued. "I see, well, if it is an emergency, I will meet you immediately. Yes, there will do fine."

Gabriella stopped beside her.

"Is it time to go?" she asked quietly.

"I have to go meet with a...client." The older woman placed her hand on her elbow, and they began walking.

"It's a little late, isn't it?"

"Apparently, something is wrong with the contract. This individual is one of the company's big clients. So, the situation needs to be discussed in person. So since we are both in the area and neither of us wants to delay the agreement further, the gentleman thinks it's best to sort it out immediately."

"Very understandable." Razel took one last look at the Christmas tree. Matthew's attention remained on her. She smiled as waves of desire rolled over her, and followed Gabriella out of the ballroom and into the hotel lobby.

"So, when we get back to the hotel, I want you to go to your room. Lock the door. Take a shower, and go straight to bed," Gabriella said as they walked out of the main door of the hotel and were greeted by the busy sounds of New York. "I will have to get changed quickly and leave straight away. I don't know what time I will be back," she continued as the limousine stopped in front of them.

"Very well," Razel answered, hiding her smile and climbing into the limo after her.

### Chapter Four

The remainder of Matthew's evening seemed to go slower after Razel left. His lips tasted of coco butter from simply kissing her hand; he had spent the rest of the night wondering if her whole body would taste the same. A question he might find answered if tonight was anything like he wanted it to be. He swiped the key card into the electronic lock of suite 208 of the New York Palace Hotel. At the clink of metal, he pushed the handle down. His heart was hammering in his chest and his cock already throbbed painfully due to the hour-long thought of Razel finally panting beneath him.

The suite was massive. The walls were white, the room covered in black furnishings and accessories, from the curtains to the candlestick holders. He locked the door behind him and walked deeper into the dim-lit area.

He removed his mask and red velvet jacket and placed them carefully on the black leather sofa, then walked to the open double doors of the bedroom. But there was no sign of Razel. His gaze lingered on the king-size bed dressed in black satin sheets, and his mind once again filled with intoxicating thoughts of Razel wriggling in heated pleasure under him. He shook his head, wiping the thought from his mind. It wouldn't be long until he could enjoy the full extent of that sight. He could hear no noise from the bathroom, so he turned toward the balcony doors.

He pulled back the white-and-black voile that covered the glass and saw her standing there, looking out onto the lights of New York City. Her hair was out of its braid and hung freely over her shoulder, giving him a full view of the naked flesh of her back. She was still dressed in her Rapunzel costume, but he watched quietly for a moment as strands of her wavy golden tresses danced in the wind.

He ran his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath as a fresh wave of heat swam around his body. He loosened the strings of his ancient costume shirt and slid the glass door open. She didn't move, only stood there looking out at the ongoing hustle and bustle of the nightlife below.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, won't you let down your hair."

"I believe it is already down, Mr. Prince." She laughed. "But I see you made your way here without needing to climb up it."

"I was given a magic key." He smiled as he leaned against the wall of the balcony.

She turned. "I see." Her eyes twinkled as the right corner of her lips curved.

"I'm curious. Why stay at a different hotel from the one you are throwing a party at?"

"Gabriella hates her Christmas gala. She wishes to go, stay a while, then leave, getting far away from it."

"Why continue throwing it if she hates it?"

"Ivory Tower is the number one modeling agency in the United States. She started a tradition, and she must continue for appearances' sake," she answered with a roll of her eyes.

He scanned the balcony, paying attention to the windows on either side. "Where is the witch, exactly?"

"Urgent business with a client." Her lips twitched.

"At midnight?"

"I made a phone call to Gabriella's lover. Gave him a few hundred dollars to fly here and distract her for the entire night. She's never been able to refuse him, even when she was married to the late Mr. D'Punz." A smile broke on her lips.

"Her lover?"

"Mr. D'Punz's son, from his first marriage."

"Of course." He moved closer to her, running his hand along the wall until it rested beside her arm. "How scandalous. What if the tabloids knew?"

"Gabriella would be mortified, but would no doubt use the attention to plug the company in one way or another."

"So it is just the two of us, then?"

Razel placed her right hand on the side of his face, and he couldn't resist kissing the tender flesh of her wrist. The smell of coco butter rose from her soft skin, and he smiled as his lips tingled in familiarity of the taste. He could feel the drumming of her quickened pulse beating against the corner of his mouth, and his cock began to throb once more.

She pulled her hand away. "Why are you here?"

"Because you invited me and because I want to be." Confusion flitted through his brain. "Razel, if you don't want me here, I _will_ go."

It was a difficult thing to say, being so close to her, feeling her hot breath on his skin. Her scent, sweet and potent, teased his senses as it danced in the air around them. He didn't want to go. He had her to himself finally, and he wanted her. All of her. But if she had changed her mind, he would leave. He wouldn't force her into anything.

She pressed against him, her mouth coming close to his. "I want you to stay."

He leaned toward her. Just as he was about to seal his mouth around hers, she turned away and walked toward the balcony door.

Following, he reached forward and placed his hand gently on her arm, stopping her. "Are you sure?"

"I have been struggling to get out of this dress for the last hour, do you mind?" She peered over her shoulder, not a shred of doubt in her eyes.

He moved closer to her and slid the zipper down. "Not at all." Leaning down, he kissed the nape of her neck, smiling as a gasped, breathless sigh escaped her.

"Thank you," she said, shimmying out of his reach.

She let the dress drop to the floor. A low moan rumbled in the back of his throat at the sight of her perky ass in a pair of red lace panties.

She rolled her shoulders. "That's much better."

"Indeed," he agreed, drinking her in.

She stepped out of her dress and walked into the hotel suite, pushing her hair off her shoulder and dividing it into two halves. Matthew grabbed her gown and followed her in, sliding the glass door shut behind him, before throwing the heavy mass of white material onto the sofa.

"I thought princesses didn't wear panties? Especially ones as festive as those." He chuckled deep in his throat.

She turned to him. Her golden hair flowed in waves down to her ankles, hiding her breasts, only allowing him to see her firm stomach and a peek of red lace beneath. Her hair was beautiful, but how he hated it for teasing him.

"Don't you like them?" She ran her fingers across the waistband of her panties.

"I'm afraid I can't appreciate them in such low lighting. You will have to take them off and let me see them." He held his hand out, and tried to smile innocently.

She rested her hands on her hips and shook her head slowly.

"Very well. I will have to do it for you." He took a step closer to her.

She took two steps back. "Mr. Prince, you have far too many clothes on for my liking. I think we should equal the playing field first, don't you?"

His left eyebrow arched, a grin curling on his lips. "Is that what you would like me to do?"

"It is only fair, after all."

He pulled his shirt over his head. "Very well."

### ***

Razel stood quietly, drinking him in as he undressed for her. His focus remained on her for the entire time, watching her as she watched him. His gaze alone sent shivers crawling along her spine, and her panties were so wet he would have to peel them off her skin.

He wasn't a broad man, but his chest and upper arms were pure muscle. His caramel skin looked rich and smooth to the touch. And oh, how she wanted to touch....

He kicked off his boots and socks and unzipped his black pants. Her heart hammered in her throat. All the heat flooding over her body pooled between her legs. He pushed his black briefs off, and his sex sprang to life. Her mouth dried at the sight of it.

"Now it appears you are the one with too many clothes on, Miss D'Punz." He smiled as desire flooded his dark eyes. "My offer of assistance still stands." He walked toward her.

Razel bit her lip and slid her hands across the lace of her red panties, slowly pushing them down and letting them drop to the floor. With a smile, she kicked them to his feet before stepping backward into the bedroom. She watched eagerly as Matthew followed her. He prowled forward, like a lion about to jump on its prey. She came to a stop when her calves hit the bed, and fell back, propping herself up with her elbows. Her hair tickled her hot body, sending goose bumps down every inch of her skin.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands sliding up her thighs, stopping at her waist as he pulled her up to face him. She placed her hands on either side of his face and moved her fingers through his hair, reveling in the way it gracefully slipped through like silk.

His head drew near to her throat, and he began pressing light kisses into her flesh. She exhaled in sweet relief at finally having him touch her. Her brain swam with every intoxicating thought she'd had of him over the last week. His hands slid around to her back, and his fingers gently stroked the length of her spine as he kissed every section of her throat and shoulders. She moaned as her nipples rubbed against his chest, the friction causing them to tighten. She could already feel the early spurts of his desire trickling down her leg.

His fingers sank into her hair. She gasped as he pulled her head back and caught her mouth with his own. His lips were as soft as she remembered from their short pleasant kiss in the restaurant, but his tongue was hot and demanding as he licked the seal of her lips, coaxing his way inside. She opened to him, melted as he explored every section of her mouth.

So this is what it feels like to be truly kissed; tasted.

Dominic had been all teeth, clashing and biting. His tongue had always felt foreign in her mouth, like a worm wriggling uncontrollably, no point or purpose as to why, just moving because he thought it was the right thing to do. Not that she had ever been an expert when it came to kissing, but this, Matthew's mouth moving in synchronicity with her own, their tongues dancing in gentle caresses...She could taste champagne. Nothing had ever tasted so delicious.

She grabbed chunks of his hair as he pulled her closer, their kiss becoming hungrier and deeper. At the feel of his erection nudging her moist sex, she shuddered with growing anticipation. The throbbing between her legs was becoming too unbearable.

"We have the whole night," she whispered into his mouth, "but for round one, let's just skip foreplay."

His hot skin rubbed against her breasts as he chuckled and pulled away. His hands slid down to her ass, and, cupping it roughly, he picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his hips and ran her fingers through his hair once more, unable to believe he was actually here and all hers....

"Not a chance." He stood up and climbed onto the bed.

He lowered them both and knelt on the satin sheets, letting her rest on his lap. A shiver ran down her spine as his fingers travelled up her waist and began tracing the curves of her breasts.

"You are so exquisite," he whispered before pressing a kiss to her collarbone.

Her grip tightened in the thick strands of his hair as his tongue made lazy circles around her right nipple. She sucked in a sharp breath as he nipped the tight bud. The small shot of pain caused tingles to crawl beneath the surface of her skin.

As he turned his attention to her left breast, he lay her down onto the bed, the soft, cool satin a strange contrast against the solid, hot body above her. She let her fingers travel down his neck and back, feeling the muscles bunch under her roaming touch.

"Matthew?"

His mouth met hers, tongue thrusting eagerly against her own. She moved her hands around to his front, idly tracing the contours of his chest and abdomen, before moving lower, stopping when she came to his hard cock resting on her thigh. She stroked it with appreciation as his hands moved to the back of her head and his fingers became entwined in strands of her hair.

She broke their kiss. "I want you inside me, Matthew," she said breathlessly before pressing a trail of open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, loving the rough feel of his stubble against her cheek. He moaned deeply as she wrapped her hand around his hot length and pulled teasingly. "I've never wanted a man the way I want you."

"Is that so?"

"Yes." She moved her kisses down his throat.

"I've wanted you from the moment I saw you," he told her as he unhooked her legs from his hips. "Tell me you want me, Razel. Tell me you're sure." He slid his hands to her knees and gently pushed her legs apart.

"I do," she replied, rubbing her wet sex against the head of his cock. "I am."

"Say it, Razel." He slid his finger teasingly along her cleft as he pressed kisses into her abdomen. "Say that you want me."

She sucked in a sharp breath, her hands clutching his hips as he slid one finger inside her. "I want you, Matthew."

He smiled against her stomach. "Sorry, I can't hear you. What did you say?"

Her hips bucked as he flicked her clit with his thumb, the simple touch causing sparks of heat to ignite under her skin. She thrust against his hand as he slid another finger inside her, his tongue circling her navel before painting a trail along her abdomen and up her throat.

"I want you." She moaned, digging her nails into his skin.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you," he whispered, nibbling her earlobe as his fingers worked her quicker.

The coarse words caused her stomach to tighten. The want to have him inside her mixed with the knowledge that he would be at any moment, caused her legs to shake.

"Oh God. I—I want you to...to fuck me, Matthew." She rocked her hips violently against his hand. "I want you to so badly." She gasped. "So badly."

He groaned, working her to climax. "Are you sure?"

"Ye-yes...yes." She gasped as delicious heat flooded through her.

His fingers left her, and despite the fading shivers of her pleasure, emptiness consumed her. His name left her mouth on a whimper. Need twisted into a steady pulse that beat at the apex of her thighs. He shifted above her. His hands clutched the inside of her thighs, and he spread her wider. She reached for him, her fingers skimming his hips, nails biting his firm skin as he slid into her in one, deep thrust. Her back arched, a cry caught in her throat as her walls molded around him.

His lips found hers. "You okay?" The question was asked on a heated sigh.

She could do nothing but nod, her focus fixed on the movement of his fingers as they glided up her body, only to clutch her hips as he slowly withdrew. She moved her hands to the back of his head, holding on to his hair. He pressed his forehead to hers; their gazes locked. A chocked moan escaped her as he slammed back home again.

He filled her completely, sending fresh waves of heat pouring over her skin with each Earth-shattering thrust. She was full of him, and yet, she wanted more. She threw her legs over his hips, locking her ankles. The movement caused him to go deeper, and he moaned, rotating his hips against hers. His mouth travelled down her neck to her breasts, licking and nipping at each nipple in turn.

"You feel so good," he whispered against her damp skin.

She dug her heels into his ass, pushing herself against him, wanting him farther inside, loving the wet friction of his cock pumping deep in her. She closed her eyes, basking in the simple way their bodies joined; taking in the exotic taste and smell of him. The sound of his ragged panting filled her ears and his grip on her waist tightened.

Sparks of white light began to dance behind her eyelids as each thrust hit just the right spot.

Nothing had ever felt so perfect, so right.

"Matthew, I...I...oh God...." Her nails dug into his scalp, words dying as his teeth sunk into her nape. She moaned.

The heat in her core wound tighter as she struggled to catch her breath.

He brushed his lips against hers and in a breathless whisper begged, "Come. Come with me. I want to feel you falling apart."

His thrust grew more urgent, his grip on her hips bruising as he pushed deeper, quicker. She could feel his body trembling as she tightened her thighs around his hips, holding on to him. She didn't want the moment to end, but she could feel herself unraveling.

The sparks behind her eyelids spiraled as the pressure in her core burst. Her eyes snapped open, back arching as her channel tightened around him. Heat exploded and flooded her entire body, stealing her breath. With one last thrust, Matthew tensed above her, her name a raw groan on his lips as he exploded deep inside her.

### Chapter Five

Matthew awoke to the sound of running water and gentle humming. He lifted his heavy head from the pillow and propped himself up. His limbs ached from sheer exhaustion, but he found himself confused as he examined the finely furnished bedroom suite. The black satin sheets were in a heap at the bottom of the bed, but the rest of the room was tidy.

The bathroom door opened. Razel walked out in a silk dressing gown, her hair wet and falling in untidy waves from her head.

He smiled at her as delicious thoughts of all they had done a few hours ago ran through his head. "Morning."

"Morning." She smiled lightly.

"Was the room this neat last night?" He laughed, feeling his cock rise at the sight of her.

She folded her arms. Her expression unreadable. "I tidied up this morning."

"Are you okay?" he asked, sitting up.

"I'm fine. I need to go and meet Gabriella for breakfast in half an hour. We have a few things to do before we catch our plane."

His heart sank as he climbed out of bed. "Oh right. Well, I better get dressed."

"You can use the shower if you wish," she said as she began straightening the bed.

"I'm—I'm fine. So, will I get to see you again?" he asked while helping her.

"See me again? Yes, probably."

"I mean...." He sighed. "I mean, will I get to be with you?"

She picked up the heavy, satin sheets from the floor. "I doubt that."

"Why?"

"I told you. Gabriella hardly lets me out of her sight."

He placed his hands on his hips. "But you were way out of her sight last night."

"Last night took five days of planning. Not to mention I had to use money to persuade Gabriella's lover to come to New York just to keep her busy for the night."

"And you can't do that again?"

She turned, and then walked into the bathroom. "It would start looking a bit suspicious, don't you think?"

"So that's it?" he asked, walking into the living room and grabbing his pants from the floor.

"Matthew, I'm sorry. I wish my life was different, I really do, but this is it."

"Your life doesn't have to be like this. You're twenty-one. I mean, surely one day you will want to live in a home of your own, with your own family—"

"Yes, I want that, but whether or not I will get it is another matter."

"Gabriella does not own you," he commented, pulling on his pants and walking back into the bedroom.

"She is my mother and my agent—"

"And?"

"And it isn't that simple."

He raked his fingers through his hair, annoyed at his growing anxiety. "Leave, then."

"Leave? And go where, Matthew? Gabriella is all I have. She is my only family, and this is my life." Her voice cracked. " _This is my life_. This is _all_ I know."

"It doesn't have to be like this." He sat on the bed. "You can leave. You can start fresh."

"You think she is really going to let me leave? Just stand there while I quit and walk away into the sunset?"

"Get a lawyer, then. I—"

She stopped in the bathroom doorway, a grimace claiming her feature. "Was I such a good fuck you now want me to file a lawsuit against my mother just so you can screw me whenever you want?"

His eyes widened. "That is _not_ why I want to see you again, Razel."

"Oh?" She folded her arms across her chest. "Then what is the reason?"

"I care about you." And God damn it, he hadn't planned to. A part of him didn't want to, but he did. He really did care about her.

"Oh, you care about the supermodel? After you fucked her three times—"

"Four." His head dropped as soon as he opened his mouth.

Her voiced became clipped. "You don't have to be polite or kind to me, Matthew, just because we know each other a little more intimately. You wanted to screw me, and I wanted to screw you."

Anxiety swelled in his chest. "So that's it?"

"That's it. Now it's back to reality. So, if you will excuse me, I need to get ready." She walked back into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

_This is ridiculous_. She couldn't truly believe she had no control over her own life... _could she?_

He sighed and walked over to the door. "Razel?" She didn't answer. He rested his forehead against the wood. "I'm sorry. I understand that you're restricted, but you just need to know that everyone is free to make their own decisions. From the food they eat to the clothes they wear. From their careers to their lovers. Your life is your own, not Gabriella's. If you don't want to see me again...." and the idea that she wouldn't seemed to hurt—"that's fine, Razel, but you need to know I'm not being nice to you because I want to bed you again. I did want to be here last night but only if you wanted me to, which you did, remember?"

He coughed, hoping to hide the sudden strain in his voice. "I won't lie. I wanted you, Razel. I wanted to feel you in every way I could but the truth is, I do find you attractive, I am interested in you, which is why I asked you out in the first place. I know I may not have reassured you of that fact since we got a little carried away last night." He cleared his throat. "But I do want to get to know you. All of you, and I think you want to get to know me, too. I think you want to leave, to quit, but you're scared because like you admitted, this is all you have ever known. I've been there, Razel. I've been afraid, and I've been alone, and I'm not going to lie; it's hard, but it's worth it. Living your life to the full, following your heart...it's worth taking that leap."

Matthew waited patiently in the hope she would open the door. He had wanted her from the moment he saw her. In truth, he'd thought his body was responding only to her beauty and he had come here last night wanting nothing more than to sink into her. But hearing how she had to try so hard just to be with him had stunned him. She was the confident and sexy woman she appeared to be on her photos, and he had flirted with that woman and taken her to bed. She was exquisite. She tasted, smelled, and felt right in every way to him, but as they collapsed into bed, sated and finally ready to sleep, it was the shy girl who had entered his arms. It was she who caressed his cheek while kissing him deeply and softly, her delicate fingers exploring his arms and back, sending shivers through him that always hit his heart. The china doll. It was she who fell asleep upon his chest with her arms wrapped around him. There was a want inside her, and he had felt it in every way. The last thought of his night was simply that he wanted to be the one to know her. To free her.

At the sound of a hair dryer, he knew all hope of her coming out was gone. He could wait for her, but if Gabriella came here and saw him....He didn't want to get Razel into trouble, so he walked into the main suite and finished getting dressed.

Standing, he picked one red rose and one white from the black vase situated on the coffee table and walked back into the bedroom, placing them down on the black satin sheets. He inhaled deeply, taking the last remaining scents of her into his lungs, and turned to the door of the suite. Without a second glance, he opened it and walked out.

Matthew walked swiftly to the end of the corridor and decided to take the stairwell in hopes he wouldn't bump into Gabriella who was no doubt skulking somewhere in the building. He could simply make as if he hooked up with someone at the gala, which would explain why he looked like an ill-dressed pirate first thing in the morning. Not that he needed to explain himself to her and not that she would care. Her opinion of him was low anyway, but she might jump to conclusions knowing Razel was upstairs.

Razel.

The anxiety that had grown in his chest was tight and heavy; it had started as soon as she had walked out of the bathroom with a look close enough to regret plastered all over her face.

He had intended to go to her and have her. As many times and in as many ways as he could, but after last night, he knew he was going to want more. Foolishly, he had thought she wanted the same. He stopped and sat on one of the steps.

_Women aren't worth the headache_. His friend's strong advice slammed against his brain over and over. He never wanted to believe it, but maybe Craig had a point. Once had been enough. Carmen had been enough. Everything he went through after her...he didn't have the strength to be in that dark and hateful place again.

He shook his head and began to tie the cord of his shirt. "You stupid fool, Matthew."

Why was he so upset? Razel was right. He only wanted to fuck her. She was mysterious, full of secrets, forbidden, and he had wanted her.

_She is not Carmen!_ The thought cried out in defense.

But how could he say that? He didn't know her. Not really. So what if she used him? He'd used her. Who cared if she didn't want to see him again? He had got what he wanted, hadn't he?

"And four times," he growled to himself.

He'd had her, and he could move on.

Standing, he continued jogging down the stairs until he got to the door of the ground floor. All he had to do was walk straight. Avoid eye contact. Hope to God he didn't bump into Gabriella, and then hail a cab to save him looking even more ridiculous in this damn outfit. Simple.

He placed the mask back around his eyes, hoping it would make him even more invisible, and walked through the door. He promised himself he would forget about Razel D'Punz and the night they had shared together.

### ***

Razel wiped her tears away and continued drying her hair. What had she done? She had rebelled. She had hoped Gabriella would walk in and find them and then...what? She would get a scolding, and no other chance to ever get rid of her again. And Matthew? Gabriella would ruin him, his reputation, his career. She couldn't let that happen. She just couldn't, so she had done the only thing she could think of: act like a catty little supermodel and try to put him off wanting to see her again. Because it just wouldn't be possible for them to see each other.

So why the hell was she so upset? Why did the thought of not seeing him again hurt so much?

"It was just about the sex." She stared at the mirror, at the pathetic woman who was crying. "It was just about the incredible sex."

That was what she had told herself when she woke up in his arms. He had come here to screw her, but that's what she had wanted, wasn't it? Yes, of course it was. That's why she had gone to all the trouble because she wanted him, and she knew he wanted her. It was just about the sex.

She had slid out of bed and run around cleaning up the mess they had made from the four straight hours of lovemaking. The pain between her legs was delicious. She couldn't believe she could actually walk because her bones felt like they had melted. Her limbs were swimming with exhaustion, but it had been worth it, and all she wanted to do was collapse back into his arms and fall asleep.

After she had finished tidying up, she had watched him sleep for a few minutes, wondering what he was dreaming about. He was the first man she had ever fallen asleep with. Seeing him in her bed sent butterflies racing round her stomach....And that was the problem. She couldn't have feelings for Matthew. It was out of the question. She hardly knew him. There was no way she was going to be able to see him again. It was just a one night stand. She knew it. So she had to make sure he did, too.

She put the hair dryer down and pulled her damp hair into a scruffy ponytail. Rummaging through her makeup bag, she removed her tube of foundation and began smothering it over her skin.

" _You need to know everyone is free to make their own decisions from food to lovers."_ His words flew around her mind. _"Your life is your own, not Gabriella's!"_

She laughed to herself. "How I wish that was the case."

But it was a fact she already knew. It wasn't like she could simply stroll up to Gabriella and say, _"I don't want to do this anymore! I'm leaving!"_ Hell would freeze over before Gabriella would let her walk away.

Everyone should be in charge of their own lives. She knew it, and she hated herself for not doing anything about it. Hated herself for making Matthew believe she _wouldn't_ do anything about it.

She had imagined running away so many times, but she knew if she did, Gabriella would suggest she had been kidnapped or something so wild and dramatic just to catch the media's attention. Then she would give an idiotic amount of money away to anyone who found her. Something as simple as wanting to be free and taking that choice into her own hands would be twisted and used as just another way to sell her and boost her career. Her stomach turned at the sickening thought. She was nothing more than a product, a toy. And she was trapped.

She curled her eyelashes and then added some mascara.

" _I want to know you. All of you,"_ Matthew had said.

Lies. They could have spent time getting to know each other last night, but no. He had to look, feel, and taste so good. He'd had to drive her into a frenzy, imprinting himself into her flesh. She shuddered as the throbbing between her legs pulsed, reminding her of how many times he had slid into her, become one with her.

He didn't know her, but he wanted to, and what had she done? She shut the door on him. Maybe they could have worked something out. It would have been difficult, and it would have meant a hell of a lot of sneaking around, but it could have worked. Couldn't it? Maybe? If she really wanted it to work, it might have.

She noted the lines beneath her eyes. Gabriella would make a remark on that for sure, not to mention that she had done her own makeup.

She walked out of the bathroom and noticed the two roses on the bed. She sighed and walked over to pick them up. She lay down on his side of the bed, placing her head gently on the pillow he had slept on, and inhaled the sharp and exotic scent of him before it faded completely.

What was wrong with her? She had only planned on seducing him, sleeping with him. He was just an itch she wanted to scratch. Yet, she still wanted him. She wanted to see him, to learn all about his life. Sit and have a meal with him. Go to sleep next to him every night so she could wake up with the smell of him on her skin each morning.

She stood and went into the main suite, placing the roses back into the vase. Grabbing her purse, she walked to the main door and opened it. Gabriella pushed past her.

"We were supposed to meet twenty minutes ago." She turned to Razel. A crinkle appeared at the top of her nose. "What is that on your face?"

"Makeup."

"You did your own makeup?" Gabriella's eyes widened. "What the hell have you done to your hair?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"It's a mess."

"Well—"

"Where are Chantal and Marlon?" Gabriella walked into the bedroom as if they were going to be hiding there.

"I have no idea. No one arrived this morning and—"

"What the hell do they think they get paid for?"

Razel watched in irritation as Gabriella pulled out her mobile and barked orders to Lana, demanding that Chantal and Marlon come straight to Razel's suite because she "can't go out looking like road kill."

Razel sighed and sat down on the black leather sofa, ignoring the stream of words spewing out of Gabriella's mouth. She let her fingers trace the intricate details of the rough leather, remembering how it felt as she had dug her nails into the cushion when Matthew had taken her from behind. Heat circled round her legs, but her heart dropped into her stomach. Matthew was gone. She had sent him away, and she was back into the old routine of her existence quicker than she could blink. The skin of her brow tightened, and her throat was as dry as sand. Her clothes suddenly felt restricting, and her temples were pounding.

"Are you even listening to me, Razel?"

She lifted her head and found Gabriella staring at her.

Her automatic reply caught in her throat as she stared into the hard hazel eyes of her mother. She was trapped, had been for years, and she had hated herself for not rebelling, for not finding the courage to say no. But Matthew was right. If she wanted to do her own makeup, she should be able to. If she wanted to drink soda, she should be able to. Who cared if her stomach might bloat because of the gas? But most importantly, if she wanted to be with someone, whether for a night or for the rest of her life, that decision was definitely hers. And she knew the minute she had opened that door and seen Gabriella's judgmental eyes burning into her that it was Matthew she wanted. She wanted to go out for a drink with him, like he had asked her the first time they had met. She wanted to sit and talk to him without doing it to boost her career. She wanted to get to know him and see what happened. At least, they knew that they didn't have any problem with the sexual side of their relationship, but she wanted them to date like two normal people would. And that wasn't going to happen as long as she was stuck with Gabriella.

"I'm sorry, Gabriella, I'm a little tired," she finally answered

"You're a mess. What is wrong with you? Did you even moisturize last night?"

"You seem tense. Didn't your meeting go well?" She bit her tongue before she said anything else.

Gabriella turned and walked to the balcony door. "It went fine. It was just a long meeting, and I got little sleep."

She swallowed the harsh laugh scratching her throat. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"We have a very busy day today. I can't have you looking like a corpse."

Every day was a busy day. Everything was always business. Life was work and there was no room for anything else, because nothing else mattered but being the best of the best; being the ultimate supermodel.

Razel stared at Gabriella as she pulled the balcony door open and placed her mobile to her ear once again.

She had been modeling since the age of five. Sixteen years. She was tired. She couldn't do this anymore, and she really didn't want to. She had to find a way out.

She flinched as she heard Gabriella barking like a terrier at poor Lana.

Everything had to change. And it had to change today.

### Chapter Six

Matthew had lasted two months. He had thrown himself into work, had tried to enjoy Christmas and the New Year with his family, but his thoughts were plagued by Razel. And despite the fact he kept reminding himself how unimportant she was to him, in his mind, he knew it was a lie. Proved by the fact that he was now pacing his apartment with his phone stuck to his ear.

A selection of images kept flashing all over the muted televisions and although he had tried to ignore it for the last hour, he had finally caved in. He stared at the screen, watching as his own images crept onto it; Razel's ice-blue eyes looked up at him from under her golden curls. Worry turned over and over in his stomach, and his grip on the phone continued to tighten with each ring.

Headlines flashed all over about Razel collapsing during one of the many social events Gabriella had dragged her to the night before last. Each glimpse at the frightful headlines made his heart beat faster. Anxiety sliced through his chest and back, and he was two seconds away from charging out of his apartment to find Gabriella and force the truth out of her. What was wrong with Razel? Why had she collapsed? Was she okay?

He shouldn't care. He knew he shouldn't. She wasn't anything to him. So why couldn't he put the phone down?

I just need to know she is okay and then I can forget about her.

He almost laughed. Forget about her...how could he? She was burned into his memory. He could still remember how she felt in his arms. How she tasted. How she smelled. The memories clung to him, not daring to let go, and he didn't want them to. He missed her in a way he hardly understood. His body and heart yearned for her. He just needed her. He needed to hold her in his arms, to know she was okay, that she was happy; then he could relax.

The receiver clicked, and he stopped dead.

"Lana Nelson."

He exhaled. "Hello, this is Matthew Prince."

"Mr. Prince, how are you?"

"I'm very well. I know this may seem odd, but I am calling to inquire about Razel."

"How thoughtful of you. Razel is perfectly well."

"The news said she collapsed." He turned his attention to the television where Gabriella's head bounced on the screen as a string of exaggerated lies poured out of her thin lips.

"She did."

"Does anyone know why?" The phone went silent; his heart stopped. "Miss Nelson?"

"I'm sorry." Lana coughed lightly, her tone turning tired. "I cannot answer any more of your questions, Mr. Prince, but I assure you that I will pass along your best wishes to Miss D'Punz."

"Miss Nelson, Lana, I would like to—to see her."

"As soon as she is well, I can arrange an appointment with Mrs. D'Punz and Razel."

He raked his fingers through his hair as his anxiety stabbed deeper. "I wish to see her alone."

"I'm afraid that will not be possible—"

"I realize that but...." He paused. There was no other way of getting what he wanted without giving something away. "I know I cannot see Razel without Gabriella breathing down her neck, and I know you are only doing your job, but I need to know she is okay."

"She is—"

"Lana, I know something is wrong. I just need you to tell me when she will be alone so I can see her. I promise I will be quick and that Gabriella will not find out at all. She needs a friend."

"And is that what you are, Mr. Prince?" Her tone turned quizzical.

"Yes. I care for her deeply. If you prefer, you could ask her if she wishes to see me."

The line went silent once more. The air caught in his throat. What if she didn't want to see him? How would he find out if she was okay? His heart felt like it was trying to break out of his chest.

"Be at Ivory House before two this afternoon. Give your name to the guards. They will let you in."

Relief spread over him followed by realization. "Are you with Razel?"

She ignored his question. "You have until two o'clock to get here and then five minutes to make sure she is okay. Then you must leave. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

The phone went dead. He grabbed his keys and jacket, shut the television down, and ran out of his apartment.

### *****

At one-fifty, the taxi rolled up to the black, iron gate which seemed to climb so high it got lost in the sky. A man dressed in a smart black uniform walked over to the car, his silver badge shining in the afternoon sun. Matthew saw it read security as the man stopped by his door. The statue of muscle raised his beefy, pale hand and tapped on the window. Matthew opened it.

The guard's grey eyes pinned him to the seat. "Can I help you, sir?"

"I am Matthew Prince. I'm expected."

The guard evaluated him then turned and nodded to his colleague who opened the gate. The taxi drove smoothly up the long driveway. The small white stones crunched beneath the wheels as they circled round a large marble fountain where three voluptuous female statues took center stage. They pulled up beside the steps to the front door where Lana was waiting, her arms folded across her chest, her mousy brown hair scraped back and clipped neatly to her head. Her focus darted round the grounds like a mouse trying to find a cat.

"I will be a few minutes. If you wait for me, I will give you an extra twenty on top of the fare."

The driver's smile spread the length of his face. "I can do that."

Matthew climbed out and jogged up the ivory stone steps.

Lana's green eyes were filled with worry. "You're cutting it a little close."

"Do you have any idea how long it takes to get from San Diego to Beverly Hills?"

"Point taken." With a nod, she turned and made her way into the house. Matthew followed her.

"I expected paparazzi to be here." He scanned the large lobby. It was almost the size of his studio apartment. The sunshine flooded in from a large clear window above the double front doors. As he expected, the walls were ivory as well as the marble floor. In the center of the lobby stood a circular mahogany table with a large bouquet of flowers in the middle. Old and beautiful art hung on each wall.

"Gabriella made sure every single one of them was at the conference today."

"Conference?" he asked as he followed her up the grand marble staircase.

"She is holding a conference to assure everyone that Razel is fine and to start talking about the next big step in Razel's career. The conference was due to end at two. Meaning she will be on her way back very soon."

"Warning noted." He glanced at her. "I wouldn't have thought people would be that interested in what a model would be doing next."

Paparazzi followed celebrities. A model usually only got space in a magazine or newspaper if they had done something wild and shameful. Considering Razel wasn't allowed to do anything, what interest could she be to anyone outside her profession?

"Gabriella makes sure people know."

That was the obvious answer.

"Whether they want to or not," Lana continued. "She has managed to get Razel a movie deal."

"Does Razel know?" Lana didn't answer. "I take that as a no. Everything and everyone is just business to Gabriella, it seems. I don't know how you put up with her, Miss Nelson." He followed her along the upstairs landing.

"My paycheck helps me cope."

By her tone, Matthew was sure it wasn't enough, though.

"Well, if it is any interest to you, I am looking for an assistant. I'm hoping to buy my own studio. The salary might not be as high as the one you are currently earning, but you will have more time for yourself, and well, I'm sure we could come to some arrangement in regards to other benefits."

She stopped and turned to face him. "Thank you. I will consider it." The faintest of smiles fluttered on her lips.

"How is Razel?"

"She hasn't come out of her room since she was brought home. She has locked herself in." Lana stopped, and indicated to the double doors beside them.

"Why would she do that?"

"To stop Gabriella entering. They had an argument before Gabriella left. That is why I have remained here, Gabriella's orders. Razel seemed eager to see you, and I...I thought you might be able to get her out."

Matthew stepped closer to the mahogany door. "Razel? It's Matthew. You wanted to see me?" A small _thud_ echoed behind the door. "Razel?"

"Lana, I wish to speak to Matthew alone for the moment so I am only going to let him in," she stated boldly from the other side.

"That's fine, Miss D'Punz. I will wait here in case you need me."

Matthew stood back as he heard a tiny _clink_ of metal. The door opened. His heart stopped as she focused on him. She held her hand out to him, and he accepted. The heat of her fingertips seeped into his skin, and he couldn't help but smile. She pulled him into the room and locked the door behind them.

The room was large and richly decorated. The white walls were bright against the contrast of the midnight blue decor. It was furnished like all bedrooms—a wardrobe, a vanity table, and a king-size bed. But at the other end of the bedroom was a semicircle of mirrors with a small stool at the center, something he had seen many times before but found ridiculous to have in a bedroom.

"It's for fittings," she commented as if sensing his confusion.

"Yes," he agreed as he turned to face her.

He felt as though he hadn't seen her in a decade. There was something different about her. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater, an outfit so simple and casual, but his heart rate quickened nevertheless. Even dressed down, she was still breathtaking. Her golden hair fell to her shoulders, and....He blinked.

"What happened to your hair?" He walked over to her, pulling gently at the ends as if he expected the rest to magically appear.

"I cut it off." A faint smile broke. "Is it terrible?"

"No, but isn't Gabriella going to—"

She took hold of his left hand. "You were right, Matthew."

"I was?"

"My life isn't my own. I've known it for years, but I guess I ignored it, because this life is all I have ever known; modeling, Gabriella, and her rules. And then you came along, and I knew I wanted things to be different. I'm so sorry about the way I spoke to you the morning after the gala. I thought we couldn't be together, and the only way I could get out of it was behaving—"

"Like a cold-hearted drama queen?" He felt his lip curve to the right.

She diverted her gaze. "Yes, and I'm ashamed I acted that way."

"It's okay." He lifted her chin, bringing her focus back to him. "I'm sorry, too. I realize me coming to you that night...it did look like I only came to take you to bed."

She gave a slight shrug. "I wanted you to."

"I know, and I won't lie, I wanted to. I came to seduce you and to be seduced but—" he took a deep breath "—I also came because I, well, I guess I wanted to spend any time with you that I could. I wanted to get to know you."

Her left eyebrow arched. "So, if I hadn't removed my dress—"

"We would have ordered room service and talked all night."

"Oh?"

He placed his hand on his heart. "I swear it, but sense fled me once you dropped that dress. I mean, can you blame me? I'm a man, and you are...exquisite."

A soft smile graced her lips. Her cheeks turned pink.

"The moment I saw you, I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to know if you tasted the way you smelled, and I longed to caress every inch of your skin." He slid his fingertips down the left side of her neck, his gaze not straying from hers. "I did go to you that night with every intention of having you, but being with you was enough for me. No matter what. Deep down in my gut, somehow I just _know_ that you are the one for me."

She stepped forward, pressing her body to his. "Do you really mean that?"

"Every word," he replied, cradling her head with his right hand. "I had to see you today. I was so worried about you. I saw on the news that you collapsed, why? Are you—"

"I'm pregnant." Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as soon as the words had left her mouth.

His hand dropped to his side and he took a step back. "What?"

"I'm two months pregnant. I didn't know until the doctor checked me over. I was dehydrated," she stated, her right hand running through her hair nervously. "Exhausted. That's why I collapsed."

"You're pregnant?"

She nodded.

"Am I—"

"Yes. You're the father."

He walked past her and sat on the bed. His heart was suddenly attempting to make a break for it, and there was an army of crazy butterflies in his stomach, it seemed. "Stupid question. Sorry."

"Not really, but considering I can't go to the bathroom without Gabriella standing guard....There's been no one else."

He peered up at her. "And Gabriella knows?"

"Yes. She went mad. She wants me to—to....She doesn't want me to have it."

He had no doubt the witch would want Razel to get rid of their baby. Theirs. _Their_ child. He should be freaking out. Yet, a crazy kind of peace consumed him.

"It's none of her damn business," he found himself saying as he stood and faced her. Even though, technically, Gabriella was still Razel's mother and agent, even if she was a selfish, insane bitch.

"No, it isn't. Besides, I'm quitting," she stated, her eyes full of determination. "After you left that morning, well, I decided I wanted to quit. This is my life, _not hers_ , and I want to live it. I've been a model for sixteen years. I have reached the top of this career. There is nothing left to do now, and even if there was, I don't want to do this anymore. All I really want to do is go shopping in a supermarket. Decorate a Christmas tree. Learn how to cook. Spend an entire day sitting on a sofa, no makeup, baggy clothing, just hanging out, watching movies and eating junk food." She closed the distance between him and placed her palms to his cheeks. "To kiss the man I'm falling in love with."

His chest tightened at her confession. He could feel the warmth of her body through his clothes, the smell of coco butter and honey rising from her skin. If that was what she wanted, he would give it to her. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted to be the one who made her happy. _He_ wanted to be happy.

Her brow furrowed, eyes filling with concern. "Are you angry about this? Happy? I didn't plan the pregnancy. I was careless that week; somehow, I forgot to take my pill. It just slipped my mind. I didn't think, but I won't get rid of it. I can't." She took a deep breath. "Say something. Please, say something."

"I would _never_ ask you to get rid of your baby. _Our_ baby." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. "I just...I want you to come home with me."

Her eyes widened. "You still want me? You want me to live with you?"

"Yes and yes." He caught her mouth with his and kissed her deeply, holding her tight. "I'm going to take care of you and our baby. Your new life begins today. Our life. Screw your mother. This isn't her business. This isn't her decision, or her life. It's ours. It's all ours and we can do anything we want."

"Ours." She smiled. "And its okay, Gabriella isn't even my—"

"She's back!" Lana squeaked from behind the door.

"I have a taxi waiting outside."

"Good. We're leaving." She broke free from his embrace and grabbed a small suitcase that was sitting beside the bed.

Matthew watched as she took a deep breath and unlocked the door.

"Lana, would you care to explain why there is a taxi in front of my house?" Gabriella's voice echoed through the hallway.

Matthew followed Razel out of the bedroom door and took his place by her side.

Gabriella stopped in front of them. " _You_." Her hazel eyes narrowed into slits as she glared at him. "It was you. You violated my supermodel. I should have you arrested for rape."

"Oh, shut up, you old bat," he grunted, taking Razel's hand and leading her to the stairs.

"How dare you! Don't you ever speak to me in such a manner. How the hell did you get in here, anyway?" she asked, following them.

"I let him in," Lana confessed. "Razel wouldn't come out of her room until she had seen him."

Gabriella turned on her, eyes growing wide. "And you listened to her? Are you really such an idiot, Lana?"

Lana's mouth opened, and then closed. Her jaw tightened, and she nodded. "I must be to have put up with your shit for so long."

"How dare you speak to me like that!"

"Mrs. D'Punz, I quit," Lana stated with a smile.

Gabriella's hands landed on her hips. "You can't quit. I won't allow it."

"I can. And I have," Lana replied, walking over to Matthew and Razel. "Mr. Prince, I would like to take you up on your offer, if that is acceptable."

"Of course, Miss Nelson," Matthew replied, allowing Lana to walk past him.

"Where the hell do you think you are going, Razel? Get back to your room," Gabriella demanded and stepped forward, her hand landing on Razel's right shoulder.

"Get off me." Razel shrugged away from her.

Gabriella's eyes went wide. "What happened to your hair?"

"I cut it off," Razel answered calmly.

"You did what?"

"I. Cut. It. Off. I hated my hair being that length. And to answer your original question, I am leaving."

"You're not going anywhere." Gabriella reached for her again.

Razel hopped out of her way and continued following Matthew down the stairs. "Wanna bet?" She threw a smirk at her.

"Get back here right now."

"I am twenty-one. I can do what I like. Sadly, it has taken me too long to actually do so."

"Razel, I'm warning you, if you leave I will—"

"What?" Razel spun to face her as she reached the bottom step. "If you remember correctly, I don't actually have a contract with Ivory Tower since you own the company, plus you never thought I should have one since we are family. You thought that this life, this profession, would be a dream for me and that I would never think of leaving. Well, you were wrong. So very wrong. You have nothing over me, Gabriella."

"If it wasn't for me, you would be nothing. Everything you have, everything you are is because of me. You owe me."

"I don't owe you a damn thing. I never wanted any of this. I never had a say in the matter. There is nothing you can do to keep me here."

"I can have my guards' escort you back to your room," Gabriella snarled as she descended the stairs.

"If you touch one hair on her head, I will have _you_ arrested for assault," Matthew said calmly, pulling Razel toward him. "She is twenty-one and free to live her life. If she wishes to leave, she can do so."

"Don't you threaten me, you pathetic excuse of a man. I will finish you!"

"Feel free to try. I couldn't care less. Once people find out Razel has left your agency, everyone will know your vicious tongue is just dripping with lies," he replied, meeting her fierce gaze. "It is Razel people are interested in, not you."

"I will have you arrested for kidnapping."

"How is it kidnapping if Razel has willingly come with me?"

"Oh, please. You think anyone will believe Razel has left this—" she lifted her hands to indicate everything around her "—to be with you. That she would actually ruin her body and career to have a baby?"

"Maybe I should pay someone to have a child for me," Razel commented. "That was what you did after all, wasn't it Gabriella? Paid someone to have a child?"

Matthew glanced between Razel and Gabriella, who gave her a simple smile.

"Your biological parents were desperate for the money. I did them a favor, and believe me; they were kissing my feet once the whole ordeal was over with."

Matthew couldn't help but notice the way Razel's shoulders bunched, the way her spine straightened. "Razel?"

"Well, it might be hard for you to understand, but I don't actually care about money. If there is one thing I have learnt living in this hell, it's that money really can't buy happiness. And I _want_ this baby."

"You think he is going to stick around while you get fat? Once your looks begin to fade and you just become an average woman? You think that you can be one big happy family? That you will live happily ever after?"

"Lady, you don't even know what you're saying," Matthew stated through clenched teeth.

"No matter what happens, Gabriella, it will be better than being here, trapped in this prison, with you."

"I have given you more than he will ever be able to give you."

"Funny, because he's already given me more than you ever have." She squeezed his hand. "He has given me hope."

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "Oh please, I think I'm going to throw up."

Matthew glanced at Razel; a smile curled his lips as she peered over her shoulder, her gaze locking with his. Within that instant, he realized she did look different, and it had nothing to do with her shortened hair, or casual clothing. There was a lightness to her, a carefree attitude that seemed to wrap round her. It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. She seemed at peace with herself.

She turned her attention back to her mother. "I am very grateful for all you have done, Gabriella, and the whole country will know that when they read my exclusive interview in _Ravish_ tomorrow." Razel smiled, and hopped off the bottom step.

"What?"

"I had an interview with _Ravish_ magazine this week," she replied, tugging Matthew's arm. "While you were off screwing Benjamin for four hours. Lana kindly set it up for me once I told her I wished to leave. It should read something like 'Gabriella and I will always remain close. She raised me, and I am so thankful for everything she has done for me, but I feel that after sixteen years, I must move on and try something different, which she completely understands. She really is a wonderful woman...."

### ***

Razel stopped at the door. She stood silently for a moment, studying her mother, drinking in the sheer horror flitting over her face, the way her mouth hung open. She wanted to enjoy it because after she left this house, she promised herself that she would never think about Gabriella or the life she had been stuck in ever again.

"Goodbye, Gabriella."

"Do not think you can leave this house with that suitcase. Everything in it belongs to me," Gabriella hissed.

She shrugged, letting the case drop to the floor with a heavy thud. "Fair enough." She gave it a little push with her foot, sending it across the lobby toward Gabriella.

She turned as Matthew, pushed the door handle down, and pulled the door open. The February breeze swept in to meet them. Cool, crisp air hit her face, causing her to shudder.

Gabriella cleared her throat, amusement painting her words as she said, "And what you are wearing."

"You can't be serious?" Matthew growled, his head snapping around to face her.

"I own the clothes on her back. If she wants to leave she can, but first she must give me what is mine."

"It's freezing out."

"It's okay, Matthew." Razel switched on her dazzling smile and turned back to Gabriella. She pulled the sweater over her head and threw it on the floor. Her heels and jeans followed. "There we go," she said, trying hard not to shiver and give the witch the satisfaction.

Gabriella's lips curved to the left. "Underwear."

Razel's jaw locked as she reached round her back and unclasped her purple satin bra. She turned to Matthew who had already removed his coat. She threw her bra on the ground, and then let him slip the material on to her arms. A small shudder of delight swam through her at the sight of his darkening eyes and the way his fingertips gently brushed her skin as he zipped her up. She was now free to be his. Free to live her own life. That was all that mattered.

She reached under the coat to slide her matching panties down her legs before throwing them on her pile of clothes. Without another word, she turned and walked out the door, allowing Matthew to put his arm around her and help her into the taxi.

"Thank you, Lana," she said as she rolled down the window.

Lana walked down the stairs and stopped by the taxi. "You're very welcome." She reached inside her right trouser pocket and retrieved a silver dictaphone. "The whole conversation was recorded, as requested," She passed the device to Razel. "I can't believe she took your clothes."

Razel accepted the dictaphone and gave her a shrug. "It doesn't matter. They're only clothes."

"Would you like a ride somewhere?" Matthew asked, leaning over Razel.

"No, my car is around back. I must go to my office and collect my things while I have the chance." Her smile widened.

"I will see you next Monday then, Miss Nelson, to discuss your position. I will call and confirm a time and place for us to meet."

"Certainly, Mr. Prince."

Razel waved good-bye to Lana as the taxi began its journey down the driveway. Matthew relayed his address to the driver as she peered through the back window. The view of her ivory marble prison growing smaller with each passing second.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he placed his hand on hers.

She took a deep breath and exhaled. "Like I can finally breathe."

"She might try to get you back." He stroked her fingers with his thumb.

Razel shook her head. "She has no chance. She isn't even my mother."

"So, the comments she made about paying your real parents...."

She turned to him. "All true."

His left arm snaked around her back, finger brushing the side of her thigh. "How did you even find out about that?"

"A few weeks ago, Lana and I were looking through both her offices for anything I could hold over her head so I could leave. I found my birth certificate with a load of other documents."

"Your biological mother was a surrogate?"

"Something like that. Gabriella paid them a lot of money for me. I can't really say I'm surprised. She is hardly maternal, and I can't actually picture her being pregnant. Her body is her temple. Why would she want to ruin it?"

"How do you feel about all this?" he asked, his right hand stroking hers gently.

"I was shocked at first. Then I was actually really happy to learn that I definitely didn't belong to Gabriella." She looked out the back window; the black iron gates were just peaking over the top of the road. "Lana took the documents for safe keeping."

"Was there any information on your parents?"

"There were some brief details on them. I have wondered over the last couple of weeks why my parents gave me up but all I could concentrate on was getting away from Gabriella. And then with finding out I was pregnant...."

"Come here." He pulled her tightly to himself. "We can try and find your real parents; if that is something you would want to do?"

"Maybe, eventually." She placed her left hand on his chest, feeling his muscle tense under her fingertips. "Are you sure you're okay with this, me coming with you? I don't expect anything from you, Matthew, but if you are able to help me until—"

"Razel, hush." He chuckled, and kissed the top of her head. "My friend always tells me that women aren't worth the headache."

"He sounds charming."

"You give me a headache, Razel. You won't get out of my mind, and it drives me crazy, but I couldn't have it any other way. Except instead of dreaming about you, I want to go to sleep with you in my arms. I want your face to be the first thing I see each day. I want to smell you on my skin constantly." He cupped her face, angling her head so she was looking directly at him. "I want to make you happy. I want to take care of you and our child. I just want you. All of you. The real you. So, yes, I am completely fine with this. I want this, but only if you want this, too. If you're sure you want me."

"I do." She raised her hand to his cheek and pulled him closer. "I want this. I want you. I want a life with you. And this is going to sound so stupid considering everything that is going on at the current moment but what I would really love is if we went on a date." She laughed, trying to ignore the small crack in her voice and the fact that her cheeks were growing moist. "I've never been on a date before."

"We can have as many dates as you want." His lips brushed hers gently. "I've fallen in love with you, Razel."

"I love you, too." She crushed her mouth to his and laughed as he shuddered due to his thin shirt. "Aren't you a little underdressed for this weather?" She bit her bottom lip as the right corner of his mouth turned upward.

"Not as underdressed as you." And just to make a point, he slid his right hand up her leg.

She shifted on the seat, parting her thighs ever so slightly. "How long until we're at your apartment?" She sighed as his mouth traced a line from her lips down her neck.

"Two and a half hours?" he growled against her throat.

"Two and a half hours?" She groaned. "That's an awfully long time." Brushing her lips along his cheek, she whispered in his ear, "And I'm not wearing any panties."

Matthew straightened, and looked into the overhead mirror. His voice strained as he said, "Driver, take us to the nearest hotel."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Damn sure."

She chuckled as he leaned in; his tongue parted her swollen lips and eagerly searched her mouth. His fingers pressed firmly into her back as he held her tightly. Every muscle in his body grew tense under her roaming hands. The taxi swayed as the driver made his way down the road. She couldn't help the wide smile that emerged on her lips as happiness burst inside her.

_Sweet freedom_ , she thought as his kiss grew deeper, and she sunk into his embrace.

### The End

### Also by Elizabeth Morgan:

Scottish Werewolves: freaky Vampires and a Slayer with a bad addiction and an insane legacy. Add a big dose of sarcasm, sizzling chemistry; a lot of silver and a ton of blood and . . . Welcome to the Blood Series.

www.e-morgan.com/the-blood-series.html

The family legacy is now in her hands.

Vampire Slayer.

Born Infected.

Addicted to Blood . . . but not by choice.

Turn the page for your sneak peek at book one in the urban fantasy series....

### Cranberry Blood

Blood Series: Book One

### Cranberry Blood

Blood Series: Book One

Lights spluttered above me, fighting with some relentless attempt to come back on, even though the battle appeared hopeless.

_It is hopeless._ I'm trapped.

Fresh waves of pain rippled around my skull and down my spine as I fought to see everything around me, but thick grey smoke flooded the corridors. It crawled down my throat; the taste and feel of ash coated my tongue, making me gag. The need to cough kept grabbing me while ash blocked my nose and stung my watering eyes. My head throbbed, pressure in my skull tightened, as I fought hard to keep my eyes open.

There has to be a way out.

My eyesight had clouded from the smoke; my nostrils burned with it.

The awareness under my skin blazed as hot as the fire that currently threatened to bring the entire structure down on my head, but I had to walk down here; every impulse in my body forced me forward. I had no idea what I hoped to find, but I knew in my gut that I could get out.

My right hand hit the uneven wall before me; my heart sank as I stood before the dead end.

My lungs burned as the smoke continued to consume my body.

I wasn't supposed to die down here.

### Chapter One

~ Heather ~

Air scorched my throat as my body jerked into consciousness. Eyes wide and unfocused, I shot into a sitting position, fisting my hands against my chest as I fought to breathe. My heart hammered, each beat loud and clear as it thumped in my ears. My gaze darted around the room. Relief settled over me like a gentle summer's breeze as each small familiarity of my bedroom filtered into my jumbled mind: the tall, old mahogany wardrobe to the right side; the window, where light desperately tried to seep through the blinds; and lastly, across from the foot of my bed, the vanity table in the same dark shade of wood. Everything exactly where it should be, including me, in my bed, exactly where _I_ should be.

I inhaled, the simple motion causing a stitch to run up my sides, but I ignored it. Sinking against my pillows, I rested my head against the wooden bed frame and closed my eyes. One breath, two, three; my heart steadied back into its usual rhythm. I rubbed my hands across my face, wiping away the sheen of sweat that had broken over my skin. On my exhale, the quietness of the room embraced me. The usual knots in my stomach started to tighten as the confusion of the recurring dream faded. I forced my mind to reach out and grab the escaping images, but, as always, reality quickly settled in and made my vision nothing more than a blank canvas.

Dull throbbing picked up at my temples. _Shit._ A sigh escaped me. _Not again._

I threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed, suddenly aware of something gripping the skin of my stomach and back.

"What the—?" The raised hem of my black vest allowed a glimpse at the white bandage strapped around my torso. "How the hell did that get there?"

Shuffling steps took me over to the mirror on the vanity table where I studied the clean dressing that clung to my washed-out skin.

Brow furrowed, I stared at the white patch. "Okay. I really don't remember hurting myself, let alone bandaging myself up." My focus snapped to a smaller bandage, taped on the left side of my forehead. I studied my half-naked reflection with confusion. My already pale, peach skin looked pasty white, my golden curls nothing more than flat frizz. The throb in my temples increased as I forced my mind to conjure some memory of what had happened last night.

Blurred snippets of my most recent trip to London skipped through my brain. Standing on the roof across the way from some club.... Then nothing but blank.

I grabbed my comb and sat down on the edge of the bed, a hiss escaping my lips as pain shot up my left side. I took a deep breath and began to pull the comb through my matted hair, clenching my teeth as agony bit at my skull with each sharp tug. My mind continued to sift through snips of the night: going out to look for Carlson, finding him with Antonio. They had followed three drunken women from a club and dragged them into a loading bay behind one of the larger shops. Me following them and helping the three women get away.... _At least, I think I did._

But what happened after that? More blankness. _Damn._

Hair pulled over one shoulder; I plaited the limp mass and then placed the comb on the vanity table. My forehead began to tighten, and the painful awareness of the familiar thirst that started to crawl up my dry throat assailed my system. My stomach gurgled.

_God, I feel rough._ I needed food and my mixture, followed by a long, hot shower.

Rolling my head in a circle, I listened to the small pops of tense muscles as I walked to the head of the bed and reached behind the pillows for my sword. My hand met the mattress. My heart stopped. I threw the pillow aside.

Where the hell is my sword?

A strange reckoning tickled below the surface of my skin as my gaze tripped over the room. _Something isn't right._

I walked around my bed to my wardrobe and pulled out a pair of black jogging pants. My focus landed on my sheathed sword, which leant against the white wall behind the bedside table. I slipped into the garment and grabbed my sword, unsheathing the blade as I tiptoed to my bedroom door.

The leather sheath got tossed on my messy bed and the door eased open. Daylight flooded through the slim stairwell window, lighting up the narrow, cream-coloured hallway.

I walked over to the next door and opened it gently; the familiar smell of my Grandmother's musky perfume hit me as I stepped into the room. I lowered my sword since no one stood there, but my feet refused to move. Her furniture sat where the pieces always had been. The purple bedding laid neatly, not a crease in sight. A layer of dust covered her bedside table. The faintest trace of her scent still lingered. A ball of grief swelled in my chest, lodging tightly between my throat and heart.

I hadn't taken a single step in here for over a month. She would have wanted me to clean, to open the window and air out the room, but I honestly couldn't bear the thought of dusting her away just yet.

I backed out of the room and shut the door, letting out a breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding.

I'm finally going crazy. Somehow, I got myself home; it doesn't really matter how. Maybe I came in, sorted myself out, and then passed out in bed? I must have. What other explanation could there be?

With a sigh, I walked across the landing to the bathroom door. The throb in my temples increased. My muscles felt tighter than a bowstring. A shower and something to eat and drink; these should do the trick. Then maybe my brain would decide to start working, and I could fill in the blanks.

The scent of wet dog flew into my face once across the bathroom threshold. My clothes from last night sat in a shredded pile on the black marble floor, along with my set of daggers. The first aid kit lay open in the sink.

A deep inhale revealed more; combined with the smell of dog, the bathroom held traces of blood. _My_ blood.

I stepped into the room and peered into the waste-bin to see a large amount of dried, red cotton wool.

"I don't remember doing this." My eyes bugged at the mess.

_Surely, I would remember doing this? Why the hell do I smell dog?_ Another inhale. _And pine?_

Something really didn't feel right. I had never been so bad that I couldn't remember what had happened on a hunt, and by the looks of things, I'd been in real bad shape.

Back into the hall and to creep quietly down the stairs. The odour of dog grew with each step, the smell of coffee and bacon gradually joining in. My stomach clenched at the familiarity of walking down these stairs every morning to find my grandmother happily cooking breakfast in our kitchen. Minus the smell of animal, though.

I couldn't believe she'd died almost six weeks ago. _God, I miss her._

As I stepped into the lower hall, a glance out of the side window showed my black Range Rover sitting in front of the house, between the front door/porch and the closed, wrought iron security gate. A long, silver scratch marred the paintwork on the bonnet. Antonio's face flashed through my mind.

I remembered stumbling back to the car to find him there, waiting for me. The bastard had dragged his filthy claw along my Rover. _That son-of-a-bitch!_

I killed him, though. I think. He lunged and.... I looked down at my left arm. Two pale lines slashed across my skin. He'd stumbled and caught me on the arm, but I got him in the neck....

The sudden sound of rustling paper snapped me from my thoughts. Tension grabbed me, the awareness crackling beneath the surface of my skin.

Someone is in my house.

Stepping through the open living room door, a new scent invaded my nostrils. Tangy, manufactured, like expensive cologne. An unfamiliar, black travel bag sat tucked away between the red leather sofa and the TV stand. The papers rustled again. I moved lightly toward the archway that lead into the dining room, my sword still gripped comfortably in my right hand.

"Your breakfast is getting cold, Heather. I suggest you stop trying to sneak in here and just come in so that we can get this over and done with," said the deep male voice of whoever was in my kitchen.

What the hell is going on? Who is he? Why is he in my house? How does he know my name? And why the hell has he cooked me breakfast?

I took a deep breath, and then exhaled before slowly walking through the archway into the empty dining room. When I turned my head to the left, I saw a strange man seated at my kitchen breakfast bar. He sat casually, in jeans and a forest green T-shirt that clung to his broad, sculpted back and defined biceps. The sun flooded into the kitchen through the side window and glinted off his copper-blond hair, which brushed his shoulders.

"Are you going to come into the room or stand there drooling all day?" He turned a page of his newspaper. I couldn't place his accent, although certain words had a dull edge to them...a Northerner, perhaps?

I inhaled again; nothing new amongst the scent of dog, pine, bacon, and coffee, which meant he wasn't a Vampire. Leeches smelled like mouldy, wet earth; not an overpowering smell, but hidden underneath the products they wore. Not that a Vampire could get in here, anyway. They could only come in with a personal invite, and since they all wanted me dead.... No matter what state I'd been in last night, I wouldn't have invited one in. _So, who the hell is this guy?_

I walked toward him, my sword glinting in the sunlight, the hilt gripped firmly in both hands. "Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my house?" I stopped three feet behind him.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"Wrong answer." The tip of my sword found the firm space between his shoulder blades. "I said, who the hell are you and what—"

"Killing me isn't going to help." He turned another page of his paper.

"I disagree. I think killing the stranger who broke into my house is a very good idea."

"I did not break in," he replied calmly. "My name is Brendan Daniels and I'm actually here to help you."

I snorted. "Like I believe that."

"It's the truth. Besides, if I really wanted to hurt you, I would have. I also wouldn't have left your weapons with you."

"Well, you're obviously an _eejit_."

He laughed. "You have serious trust issues."

"Trust issues? Says the complete stranger who broke into my house and—"

"I used your house keys. They were in your jacket pocket," he said. "And yes, trust issues, says the stranger. The stranger who promises he isn't here to hurt you."

"Just because you say you're not here to hurt me doesn't mean it's the truth."

"True. But why go to the trouble of killing you when I could have left you lying in the car park the other night and let the seven greedy Leeches looking for you find you and bleed you dry?"

My stomach turned as memories of my outing slammed clearly into my brain. I had walked into a trap, so set on finding Carlson that the need to kill the bastard once and for all had blocked all sense and reason. Twelve lower generation Vampires had been waiting on the rooftops surrounding the loading bay. Carlson and Antonio wouldn't stop talking, so I backed out of the area, and that's when I saw them all. Their black eyes watched my every move as their mouths hung wide, displaying their fangs.

"I have waited so long for this moment," Carlson had said.

So had I.

My grandmother never told me where to find him. She wouldn't let me kill him even though he deserved my sword through his neck more than any other Vampire.

They obviously found out Gran had died and simply waited for me to come out and play. I went, and they _had_ been waiting for me, and like some amateur, I walked right into their trap. I killed two Vampires in order to get out of the loading bay, and then I had the other ten, along with Carlson and Antonio, chasing me through the dark and empty back streets of London. I tried to lead them somewhere humans wouldn't find us; much good it did me.

But none of that explained who this guy was or why the hell he'd made himself at home in my kitchen.

"So you were there?"

"That much is obvious. Who do you think brought you home?"

"How did you even know where I live?"

"You have sat-nav in your Rover. And, like I said, I'm here to help." He slid off the stool; the tip of my sword grazed his green T-shirt.

I clenched my teeth. "Why help me? You don't even know me."

He finally turned to face me. He'd pulled back his copper-blond hair, allowing me to see his face fully. A broad nose accompanied by high cheekbones and a tall forehead set off the deepest green eyes I'd ever seen. A fine layer of copper stubble outlined his square jaw and surrounded thick, peach lips.

His emerald eyes sparkled as I met his gaze.

"True, but I helped you because I thought it would be in your best interest to get you back to the safety of your own house."

He thought it would be in _my_ best interest? _Who the hell does this guy think he is, a knight in shining armour? He looks like a friggin' Ken doll, for Christ's sake, and_.... Wait a damn minute. "Seven Vampires?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Before, you said seven Vampires? There were twelve left."

"Well, you eventually killed the Italian one before collapsing in front of your car, leaving eleven. The blond one who couldn't decide whether he wanted to eat you or screw you—"

"Carlson." I shuddered at the memory of him pinning my body to the rough concrete road. His thighs clamped my legs shut as he lapped at the blood trickling down my forehead....

"Well, turns out he, as well as three of the others, actually needed their heads to fight back, but the rest of them ran off, and since my priority is you—"

"You're the one who knocked Carlson off me?"

Memories exploded and rolled around my mind like storm clouds. Carlson had slid his talons into my waist, knocking me to the pavement and causing me to cut my forehead. He had pinned me between the ground and his growing erection while he demanded I beg him to change me. A few cheap insults and shoving some silver in his ribcage was enough to piss him off—as if I would want to be blood-bonded to the bastard who'd helped destroy my mother and father. On my refusal, he'd bared his fangs; about to feed from me...then the next thing I knew, he was gone. Once I got to my feet, I saw four decomposing bodies on the ground, only yards away from where I, myself, had almost bled to death.

"Yes." He picked up a glass of orange juice and took a mouthful.

"Carlson is dead?"

He gulped. "Well, last time I checked, decapitation usually does the trick. So, yeah."

A strange relief flooded me. My hands began to tremble. I tightened my grip, trying to keep a firm hold on my sword. "Are you a hundred and ten percent sure he's dead?"

"A hundred and forty-six percent sure."

I couldn't believe it. Carlson, dead. Well, in the sense that he wouldn't be prowling the streets or feeding ever again. He was actually gone. I suddenly didn't know whether to hug this strange man, or kill him for taking away my opportunity to kill the monster that'd infected my mother. "Why did you kill him?"

He laughed. "Well, I was considering letting him and the rest of his friends eat you, but then that wouldn't have made me a very good guardian, now, would it?"

Cranberry Blood

Blood Series: Book One

Killing Vampires? Easy.

Tracking someone? Simple.

Helping, and protecting a Vampire slayer.... Bloody hard work!

Thirteen years ago, Brendan Daniels made a deal with a psychic. In exchange for information on the whereabouts of a Rogue Werewolf, he promised to help and protect Sofia's granddaughter. Unfortunately, he had no idea what he was letting himself, or his Pack, in for.

Nothing about Heather is simple, from her weird dietary needs to her life's mission. The girl can handle herself, but the promise to protect her soon becomes a need, and one he can't fully understand.

Vampire Slayer.

Born Infected.

Addicted to blood.... but not by choice.

Heather Ryan is the current Slayer in a long family line. Like all before her, she has spent her life searching for her ancestor, Marko Pavel, the Vampire her family has sworn to kill. If that isn't complicated enough, she is also a born "Infected", and to keep her from becoming insane or giving in to her darker side, she is on a very strict diet.

Now that her Grandmother Sofia has passed, it is up to Heather to take the family legacy into her own hands. Or at least, it would have been...if her Grandmother hadn't sent a Werewolf to help her.

What is the irritating Brendan supposed to help her with? Sofia never told either of them. Luckily, it doesn't take long for Heather and Brendan to find out that the Vampires have big plans, and that the Leeches have waited a long time for them both.

This title contains explicit language, violence, and some scenes of a sexual nature.

Available at most online retailers. Also available in print.

She-Wolf

Blood Series: Prequel

Blurb:

Dealing with the Rogue Werewolves terrorizing his Pack? Simple.

Trying to convince his mate he does want to be with her? Bloody impossible.

Owen MacLaren is the Alpha's son and the Pack's second, and he has never been one to let anything get to him. So when a bunch of Rogues begin purposely dumping mutilated bodies around the Pack Keep, he is more than ready to deal with the Werewolves responsible.

But one night off and a trip to a local strip joint for a colleague's stag night changes things, and Owen soon discovers he isn't immune to everything....

Being an independent Loup and travelling the world? Easy.

Having to come home and face the Werewolf who broke her young heart? Challenging.

After five years away, Clare Walker finds herself back home in Scotland, working in a strip club. The tips are decent, and she gets to dance, but it isn't a place she thought she would ever be at, let alone Owen, her Pack second and the mate she has always desired.

Although Owen is determined to prove he wants to be with Clare, things can't go smoothly between them, not when they have past issues to sort out and a bunch of unusual 'Rogues' to deal with.

This title contains explicit language, violence, and graphic sex.

Available at most online retailers. Also available in print.

### Reviews:

### She-Wolf

" _She-Wolf_ has passion, tension and a super paced story line. The characters are real, their stories are gritty and as for the scenes between Clare and Owen... well; they burn up the pages for sure. Written with skill, this story puts the reader at the heart of a thrilling tale."

\- Deborah (The London Cat)

" _She-Wolf_ was action packed with an emotional love story attached. The intimate scene in this book is smoldering hot, the author gives you a little taste of the erotic romance that leaves you panting for more, seriously panting for more."

\- Crystal (Crystal's Random Thoughts)

"This is definitely a worthwhile read for any werewolf fan."

\- Carmel (Rabid Reads)

### Cranberry Blood

"Written with style and passion, this unique paranormal adventure brings entertainment with a bang. Bold and gripping, combining Werewolves and Vampires, this exciting mixture of creatures brings yet another exceptional story to life."

\- Deborah (The London Cat)

" _Cranberry Blood_ picks up after _She-Wolf_ and boy it was action packed. The plot was wicked with all its twists and turns that made this book such an emotional ride."

\- Crystal (Crystal's Random Thoughts)

" _Cranberry Blood_ is a wild ride that's sure to entertain even the most difficult Urban Fantasy connoisseur with its innovation and creativity."

Carmel (Rabid Reads)

### Acknowledgement:

The re-release of this book wouldn't have been possible without the help of two very wonderful women.

Dianna Hardy, a beautiful soul and extremely talented author who has become a treasured friend to me over the last two years. Thank you, Dianna for your constant support and helping me understand the details of self-publishing. I honestly couldn't have published this book without you.

And Zee Monodee, my fabulous editor and friend who has been a wonderful support and helped me whip this book into shape. Thanks for everything, hun.

Also, I would just like to thank Fiona Jayde for designing such a fantastic cover for this story. She really is very talented, and I have to say that I am utterly in love with it. So, thanks Fi.

Lastly, and most importantly, I would like to say a big thank you to my readers. Thank you so much for taking a chance on my work. I do hope that you enjoy my stories, and that you will continue on this journey with me, because I have lots planned. So stay tuned.

### About the Author

Elizabeth Morgan is a multi-published author of urban fantasy, paranormal, erotic horror, f/f, and contemporary; all with a degree of romance, a dose of action, and a hit of sarcasm, sizzle, or blood, but you can be sure that no matter what the genre, Elizabeth always manages to give a unique and often humorous spin to her stories.

Like her tagline says; A pick 'n' mix genre author. _"I'm not greedy. I just like variety."_

And that she does, author of erotic ménage horror, _Creak_ , paranormal erotic horror and UK, US, & Australian Amazon best seller (Gay/Lesbian, Fiction, Lesbian), _On the Rocks_ , erotic romance, US, UK & Spanish Amazon bestseller (Erotica Short Story) _Truth or Dare?_ And sweet contemporary romance, UK & US Amazon bestseller (British/Drama & Plays), _Stepping Stones_.

She also has her hand in self-publishing. Look out for more information on her upcoming releases at her website: e-morgan.com

Away from the computer, Elizabeth can be found in the garden trying hard not to kill her plants, or dancing around her little cottage with the radio on while she cleans, watching movies or good television programmes – Dr Who? Atlantis? The Musketeers? Heck, yes! – Or curled up with her two cats, reading a book.

### For more information on Elizabeth's work, published and upcoming, head on over to her site: http://www.e-morgan.com

