Page 134 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

Rather than taking the fork, Caleb leans forward and closes his mouth around it, keeping his gaze on mine.

A faint smear of pink frosting clings to his lower lip.

Without thinking, I lift my thumb and wipe it away.

The moment I touch him, his entire focus sharpens.

My hand stills against his mouth.

Caleb catches my wrist.

For several suspended seconds, neither of us moves.

Then he turns his head and presses a kiss to the center of my palm, making heat bloom beneath my skin.

I withdraw my hand and look at Lucian, who has been watching the exchange with an intensity that makes the air feel hot.

“You want some?” I ask.

His gaze lowers to the frosting, then returns to my mouth.

“I’ll wait till I have you alone.”

The promise embedded in his words sends warmth curling low in my body…

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Sophie

That Evening

“What exactly are we doing here?”

Lucian doesn’t answer as we continue down yet another private corridor, this time at the Bella Rosa.

Since meeting them, I’ve learned that billionaires move through a different version of the world than I do.

At the end of the hallway, a silver-haired man in an immaculate tuxedo waits beside what appears to be a mirrored wall.

He inclines his head as we approach. “Gentlemen. Madam.”

Then he holds out a shallow tray lined in black velvet.

Lucian and Caleb place their phones on it, and they wait for me to do the same.

The attendant locks our devices in a compartment concealed in the wall, then places his palm against a dark panel. A blue light travels beneath his hand, followed by the quiet disengagement of a lock.

The mirrored wall slides open.

Beyond is what appears to be a gaming salon.

A massive chandelier spills light over black lacquer, pale marble, and a single baccarat table positioned beneath it.

Arched windows overlook the Strip, reducing all that noise and neon to a glittering ribbon in the distance. There are no slot machines, no crowds, no cocktail servers weaving through tourists.

There are only a handful of men in tuxedos speaking quietly around the room, and their conversations fade as we enter.

A few hours ago, I was eating tacos from a paper basket, and now I’m dressed in a midnight-blue gown that’s deceptively modest from the front, the silk falling in a smooth line to the floor. But my entire back is bare, and thousands of tiny crystals sewn into the fabric catch the chandelier light whenever I move.