Page 24 of Duchess (Royal Harlots MC: National New York Chapter #1)

Caleb

T he restaurant was one of those upscale rooftop spots nestled atop a high-rise hotel in the heart of New York City.

Its floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city skyline glittering beneath the night sky.

Modern lighting cast a soft glow over marble floors, crystal glassware sparkled like ice, and clean-cut men in tailored suits floated from table to table, pretending their money made them untouchable.

I hated these places. Too polished, too quiet, too much pretense.

The man's arm brushed against mine as I leaned in, making sure the low cut of my red dress did its job. He was a hedge fund baby through and through, born into wealth and fed privilege from a silver spoon. Salt and pepper hair matched his well-trimmed beard, giving him a distinguished edge that might’ve fooled someone into thinking he’d earned any of it.

But I knew better. Still, I wasn’t here to judge.

I was here to win him over, and if my cleavage helped speed up the deal, then so be it.

Rhea had warned me he’d be more into the image than the woman beneath it.

Perfect. That meant I could work him without worrying about his hands getting greedy.

I’d dressed to kill tonight. The fire-red silk clung to every one of my curves, a neckline plunging just enough to leave him wondering what it would take to see more.

The client across from me wasn’t here for a date.

He was here to close a deal, and I’d use every asset I had to make sure the numbers leaned in my favor.

I was halfway through a steak that was overpriced and under-seasoned when his phone buzzed. He answered, nodded, and stood with a tight smile. "Emergency call. I’ll be back in a moment."

The second he walked off, I didn’t even get a breath in before the leather of the booth shifted beside me.

"Didn’t know you liked your steak rare, Duchess. "

My heart thudded and a slow heat spread through me, one that had nothing to do with the wine or the man who’d just left.

"You’ve got five seconds to leave before I make a scene," I muttered, keeping my voice low and my eyes forward.

But Caleb didn’t leave. No, he fucking leaned in, looking every bit the devil, I remembered.

He looked handsome tonight, too handsome.

His midnight, black hair was slicked back with just enough wave to hint at how wild it could get.

His dark eyes were bottomless, a storm brewing with control and chaos, and his lips looked fully sculpted.

Sinfully tempting in the dim light, drawing me in like a magnet.

His jawline was cut from granite, a sharp, masculine edge softened only by the five o’clock shadow that shadowed his skin.

Everything about him screamed danger, but it was the kind you wanted to touch, taste, and curse yourself for afterward.

And that perfectly cut navy suit molded to broad shoulders, hiding a body I knew was carved from power and blood.

Turkish steel in human form, and I hated how my pulse betrayed me just being near him.

His hand slid beneath the pristine white tablecloth with all the arrogance of a man who thought he held all the power.

His fingers were tracing the inside of my thigh with a slow, possessive stroke that made my breath stutter in betrayal.

Heat licked up my spine as I grabbed his wrist, the warmth of his touch searing into my skin, dangerous and electric, the kind that made a woman forget how to say no and remember how easily she'd once said yes.

"You looked bored. Figured I’d offer you something more... appetizing ."

I gritted my teeth and gripped my fork like a weapon. "Touch me again, and I swear to God, Caleb..."

"What, you’ll stab me to death?" he said, voice soft but laced in wicked amusement as he looked down at the fork. "Might take you a while."

"Don't tempt me."

"Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried. But you wouldn’t do it here. Not in front of all these rich pricks."

He smelled like expensive sin. His over-priced cologne mixed with the tobacco scent of his cigars, and his breath tasted like whiskey, while the heat of his hands induced violence. His fingers tightened on my leg just as he leaned in to whisper against my neck.

"You can dine with them, dress in their silk, wear their diamonds... but we both know who you cum for when you’re done playing Queen."

His fingers slid higher, brushing the edge of my panties, dragging heat across flesh that had no business reacting to him. I clenched his wrist tighter, but he only leaned in further, his lips brushing my ear with infuriating control.

"Go ahead, make a scene. Let all these polished little monsters see what you really are. We both know you won’t, because truth has a price in this world, and you can’t afford the fallout. Not here. Not in front of the client you’re so desperately trying to impress."

His other hand trailed upward, calloused fingers ghosting over my collarbone before dipping into the plunge of my dress, just enough to skim the swell of my breasts. "You wore this dress for a schmuck like him? What a waste."

I turned my face away, and my jaw clenched. "Jealous, much?"

He dragged his nose along the curve of my throat, slow and sinful, until I shivered. "Tell me, Duchess," he murmured, voice husky and soaked in seduction, "how bad do you want to cum for me again? Because I can still taste you on my tongue. So sweet and addictive. I want you dripping down my chin."

He dragged his nose up beneath my jaw, inhaling like he needed the scent of me to survive. "I want your taste on my tongue again."

His tongue traced my ear as his calloused fingers slipped beneath the edge of my panties, unhurried and bold.

His fingertips found the slick heat waiting for him, and he let out a low, guttural sound that made my thighs clench.

"You're wet for me, Duchess," he whispered, his voice thick with need and victory as his fingers slid through my swollen, needy lips. "So fucking wet, and I’ve barely touched you. I want my fingers soaked in your heat, Duchess, while you beg me not to stop. I want to feel you pulse around me, desperate and filthy, just the way I remember. The way you’ve always been for me." But most of all, I want you to admit that every single night since you ran, you’ve dreamt of this moment. And I’m going to keep coming for you until you do. "

"I will never give into you, Caleb." I breathed.

He pulled back with a smirk that made my blood boil. He left my traitorous pussy thrumming from his touch.

"Not never, Duchess. When you give in. Next time, it won’t be dinner I’ll be interrupting, Duchess.

It’ll be something that leaves a mark. A message, loud and clear, in a language only you and I understand.

Keep playing house with your polished friends, I'll be the shadow that keeps you looking over your shoulder. You’ll know it’s me, and when it hits, you’ll realize just how far I’m willing to go to take back what’s mine. "

Then, with a smooth grace that made me want to choke him, he rose from the seat and walked away like he hadn’t just set my entire body on fire with rage and something far more dangerous.

I sat there, trembling, trying to piece myself back together. The client returned moments later, oblivious to what I had just gone through, and the rest of the dinner passed in a blur of fake laughter and stiff small talk.

But I did not sleep well that night. And whatever little sleep I did get was filled with hot desires, rough moans, and the scent of expensive cologne and tobacco.

The next morning, I was still raw. I hadn’t slept, not even for a second. I was still in the red dress, lying curled on the couch with a fury in my chest that wouldn’t ease.

The door slammed open.

Rhea.

Her heels struck the floor like bullets, her eyes wide, her hand gripping her phone like a weapon.

"Have you seen the email?"

My voice came out hoarse. "What email?"

She shoved the screen in front of me.

Killic Consolidated Holding: Building Acquisition Confirmation.

I read it once. Twice. Three times.

"No," I breathed. My voice cracked. "He bought it?"

Rhea nodded. "Our building, Steph. The Violent Femmes location, bought. Just like that."

“Half the building,” I corrected.

“He bought the foundation. Which means we pay his mortgage.”

I shot to my feet. Blood roared in my ears. "Motherfucker!"

Rhea looked away, lips pressed tight. "He knew exactly what he was doing when he took Sanja. He was planning to destroy you, us."

"He didn’t show up at that restaurant last night just to get under my skin. That was a warning. This... this is the fucking threat."

"Restaurant?" Rhea blinked. "What are you talking about?"

I ignored her question, rage building. "I should have known better. I let my fucking guard down again, didn't I?"

"That's not the question, Stephanie. I want to know what we are going to do?" she asked quietly.

I stared out the window, the city humming beneath us. "I’m going to kill him," I said.

"What?" she asked. "Stop fucking around, Prez. We need to figure something out."

Suddenly, my phone buzzed, and an unknown number popped up with a text message.

We’re not done, my future Queen. Not even close.

"I'm going to kill him, and no one will ever find him after I'm done with him." I smiled, and Rhea simply sank into a chair. Because she knew I was about to do something really bad to this man.