Page 160 of Pandora's Pleasure

I felt a headache forming as I recalled the happenings of the previous evening. That’s right…last night I’d broken into a news mogul’s home—all in a day’s work for a debutante who’d been wound too tight all her life.

After Phoebe and I had snuck out of Galante’s mansion, hugged and parted, I’d driven straight back to the apartment to change. Then I’d turned up here at the Fairmont in Georgetown, dressed to the nines in the new dress I’d bought yesterday.

What the fuck had I done?

With my grogginess lifting, I replayed how I’d risked everything to carry out my scheme. But doing nothing under the circumstances would have been equally as dangerous. We would soon know if we’d fucked up. IfIhad fucked up. No one else deserved to take responsibility for my actions. This entire escapade had been my idea.

I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to relieve the throbbing ache. All this uncertainty was making me lightheaded.

Would this be the day I lost Damien?

Don’t be silly…you’ve gotten away with it.

I felt a tightness around my heart where there should be happiness, butterflies tickling my belly.

I pulled my panties out of Damien’s jacket pocket and put them on, smiling as I remembered last night and what we’d done to each other in this suite. We’d fucked in every single room. I slid into my Versace mini dress and glanced at his sleeping form. He lay on his chest with his arms stretched languidly above his head.

I found it hard to believe that I’d been able to get so close to this mysterious bachelor. He had already been cautious when it came to love. It was hard to think I might end up hurting him if my scheme backfired.

I glanced at my watch…1:00 A.M.

We’d slept into the wee hours.

Padding toward the sitting room, I searched out something to quench my thirst and found a bottle of water. I unscrewed the cap and took a big swig, then noticed my reflection in the mirror on the far wall.

Jesus!

I almost jumped out of my skin.

Carter stood behind me, staring daggers my way.

This was his father’s suite, meant to be used during functions, so his being here wasn’t really a surprise. It was the way he looked at me with such arrogance and distain that sent shivers of uncertainty down my spine.

“You scared me,” I whispered.

“Where’s Damien?”

Raising a finger to my lips, I gestured for him to be quiet because Damien was still asleep—then immediately regretted it. Damien would shoo this asshole away, if necessary.

Carter rolled his eyes. It was obvious that we’d used this suite to have sex.

“Your father wants to talk with you.”

I frowned at him. “Dad’s here?”

“Downstairs.”

“I have to check my hair.” I hurried over to the round wall mirror and tried to brush out my disheveled locks with my fingers.

The advantage of sleeping in makeup: I actually looked well-rested with just a smudge of mascara beneath my eyes. I wiped it away to look decent again as Carter stepped forward and reached into his jacket pocket, offering me his comb.

“Thank you.” I took it, wary of him.

I dragged the prongs through my golden locks and handed the comb back to him.

“My purse is in the bedroom,” I explained, slipping on my high heels.

“You’re not going far.” He gestured toward the door.