Jennifer Probst - The Marriage Merger

Sawyer dropped his voice. Sticky honey and hot oil mixed and slid together in a delight to her ears and the pulsing center between her legs. “you chose wrong before and got screwed. But that won’t happen with me.”

Her skin prickled and her breasts ached behind her proper white bra. Julietta had the sudden urge to rip off her clothes and offer herself to him on his desk. Spread her thighs and bend to his will. Horror mingled with surprise at the primitive reaction he coaxed. Thank God she’d learned early to control her breath to calm her nerves in public situations. She forced a small smile. “Confident, are we? Good, I look for that in a partner. I assume you have a formal proposal I can go over?”

He pushed the black leather binder across the desk. She scooped it up, gave it a cursory glance, and tucked it away in her briefcase. “I’ll get back to you this week.”

“No. Tomorrow.”

Julietta frowned. “Impossible. I need lawyers to look it over. I have to bring it to the board members. Talk with Michael.”

He cut his hand through the air. “Michael runs La Dolce Maggie, and I intend to give him the same deal with my local operations in New york. If this is going to work, I need to know you’re my point person for everything. you make the decisions. Democracy is good, but sometimes a monarchy gets better results.” Something flashed in his eyes—deep and sexual and wicked. “I’ll have to prove that to you soon.”

Julietta refused to clear her throat or act timid. “you run the risk of me saying no to the whole thing.”

“yes. But I still need an answer tomorrow. I’ll take you to dinner.”

She shook her head. “No need, Mr. Wells, I—”

“Sawyer.”

Her belly dropped at his commanding tone. “Sawyer.

I’ll need till five p.m.”

“Perfect. Whatever your decision is, we’ll celebrate over wine and pasta. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

The situation tilted, and she grabbed for footing. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I do. Whether or not we do business, I’ve spent time with most of your family and would like to share one meal with you. Talk about Max. your sister. Is that too much to ask?”

She felt like an idiot. How did she fight such a rea-sonable request without looking like a total bitch? But something told her she didn’t want to be alone with him, especially in her apartment. Inviting him in seemed deadly.

Her tongue stumbled over the words. “Fine. you can pick me up at the office; I’ll be working.”

He bowed his head as if it had been her idea the entire time. “Very good. I’ll be looking forward to your decision.”

She rose from the chair and decided to avert the whole handshaking thing again. Her cowardly move caused his lip to quirk in a half smile, but he stayed behind his desk and watched her leave. once again, the door swung silently open, as if finally allowing her escape. Did he have a re-mote under his desk so he could screw with his clients? The whole meeting rattled her usually calm nerves.

Juliettta dug deep, straightened her shoulders, and marched out of the office without a glance back.

…

He wanted her.

Sawyer stared at the closed door and tried to make sense of his rioting emotions. Her scent lingered in the air.

He dragged in a breath and tried to capture her essence.

The sweetness of vanilla. The exotic kick of coconut. A heady contradiction like the woman herself.

Shit. This was going to be more complicated than he thought.

He rose and paced. Wondered if he should withdraw the offer. He expected certain things from the oldest sister of the Conte family. A reserved demeanor. A sharp mind.

A ruthless sense of organization and leadership. Assets he admired and needed in a business partner long term. His conversations with Max and Michael had convinced him La Dolce Famiglia would be the perfect fit, and that Julietta was fully capable of making all the decisions.

He’d never expected to be attracted to her.

Sawyer knew he possessed an uncanny ability with women. Part gift, part training. every nuance of expression was analyzed. Body language, words, gestures. especially the eyes, which he believed were the window to the soul.

except his. The inviting golden color was a trick of the light meant to throw an enemy off guard. once someone dove in, all she’d discover was a black pit of hell.

He shook off the gloomy thought and yanked himself back to the problem. The moment she walked in and greeted him in her cool, possessed tone, he wanted to claim her. Her surface image screamed look, but don’t touch. Glance, but don’t study. Question, but don’t ponder.

Her voice reminded him of tinkling ice squeezed in the heady warmth of an Italian accent. She wore her hair pulled back from her face with only a few strands allowed to escape and cradle her cheeks. When she turned her head, the light caught the glimmer of dark red wine strands glisten-ing like rubies in the midst of proper conservative pearls.

Those dark eyes were large and dominated her face, but a swirl of actual gold around the irises gleamed with a hidden depth he bet most men never caught. A strong nose, chin, and defined cheekbones set off a mouth so soft and plump he wanted to spend hours just sucking and licking. The fact that she didn’t even accentuate them with lipstick made her mouth even more tempting.

She wore her clothes with the command of a woman who liked classic, expensive fashion and knew how to carry it off. Her long, lithe frame had set off the Vera Wang cream suit: the pencil skirt skimming her hips and hitting midcalf.

She had walked across the room with purpose in her bone leather pumps, as if her body were only along for the ride, and almost a separate entity. As if her mind and body were completely disconnected in a dueling battle. The thrust of her small, high breasts under her suit jacket and the smooth peek of warm brown skin as she crossed her legs revved his body to immediate attention. Full staff. Thank God the desk was high, because wouldn’t that have been an embarrassing moment. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman turned him on by just walking into a room. Not since Carina.

The memory of Julietta’s younger sister flashed before him. Before his friend Max made his claim, he’d been fascinated by the earthy need and innocence Carina exuded in Vegas, but he realized immediately she was in love with Max. Never one to settle for second place, he’d let her go because she wasn’t meant for him. Not long term. Perhaps a brief affair, but she’d never look at him the way she did his friend. Sawyer was glad they were happily married after such a long journey. But even his reaction to Carina was a slight buzz compared to the roaring in his dick when Julietta entered the room.

Her fingers were strong, smooth, and trembled ever so slightly in his grip. She dominated the challenging conversation that most men wouldn’t have been able to follow, and she never lost her footing. yet when he’d made his comment about her being different from her family, she’d stiffened and pain had flared in her cocoa eyes.

Beneath that tight, buttoned-up demeanor was a tangle of passion, emotion, and mess. The best decision lay before him. Cancel the dinner. Back away from the deal. Move on.

A woman like Julietta had the power to wreck his concen-tration, screw with his business, and make his life miserable.

yet something pulled him to her. Twisted his insides with a raw need to strip her surface bare and make her face who she really was. The way she responded to his demand that she say his name spoke volumes. She had natural submissive tendencies, which intrigued his dominant side.

What would she be like in bed? Her mind was so bent on constant control, he bet she had a hard time focusing on the pleasures of her body.

He could teach her.

His blood pounded and heated through his veins. She wouldn’t be an easy match, though. She’d be one major pain in the ass. Did he have time for this now? His long-held dream of building his own hotel empire lay right before him. Tying her up in his business could prove risky. But damn, tying her up in any way, shape, or form was too fucking tempting.

Sawyer realized the past few years he’d been skimming the edges with women. He played at relationships to a point he wouldn’t know a real connection if it was advertised in blinding neon. Work had been his driving force for the past decade, and it remained his sole demanding mistress. His forays into pleasure were set ahead of time with ironclad rules. But many women slipped into clinginess and emotion he couldn’t handle, forcing him to end the relationship quickly. Julietta might be able to offer him a bit more depth, with the ability to keep business separate from pleasure.

Most women couldn’t handle the limitations.

He bet Julietta Conte handled any challenge thrown at her.

Sawyer tapped his finger against his lips and analyzed all the options. Such a delicate line to walk between business and pleasure. Snakes twisted in a pit beneath him, ready for even one misstep. She’d need to be handled with kid gloves at first, before he switched to the delicious sting of the whip. He needed to learn what drove her, what she hid, and how best to yank away years of barriers. Was it too risky, especially when he was about to unveil his dream and his only reason for survival all these years?

The answer coursed through him with a bone-deep knowledge he never questioned.

And he made the decision he’d wanted to from the moment he met her.

Julietta glanced up: 4:58 p.m.