Boston Avant-Garde: Impetuous by Kaitlin Maitland Page A

realized he was gone.
    “Looking for me?”
    She startled, her heart slamming against her ribs.
    He grabbed her arm, wrenching her around to face him. “You weren’t thinking about leaving without me, were you, Desiree?”
    Was there any other conclusion he could draw? “Maybe.”
    He pinned her against one of the granite columns that rimmed the banquet hall. Tucked behind the mass of decorative trees and draperies, they were all but invisible. She sucked in a deep breath to call out, but the look on his face made her choke on her own scream.
    “Think about that, Desiree. Do you really want anyone to notice us?” His eyes glinted in the near darkness. “They’d see the affluent businessman, lonely and separated from his fiancée, being ruthlessly seduced by her whore of a sister. The same sister who has been frequenting seedy bars in the Back Bay.”
    She hated to admit it, but there was some truth to what he said. Their society loved to gossip. And nothing made better gossip than a sex scandal. The sour taste of fear coated her mouth, and she couldn’t swallow around the lump in her throat.
    “Now that you’re feeling cooperative, I think I’d like a closer look at those nice round tits. Your sister barely fills out an A-cup on a good day. It’s nice to know there’s a decent pair around when I need them.”
    The modest neckline of her black dress tore as he pulled it roughly aside, exposing the lace-trimmed cup of her bra. Her chest heaved as she struggled to call for help. Her distaste for gossip was overruled by the instincts screaming a warning inside her head.
    “Hold still!”
    His forearm locked on her throat. Her head bounced backward against the column, stars dancing before her eyes. Her vision began to curl inward, blackening at the edges. Fighting for consciousness, she struggled again as he ripped the cup of her bra to expose her left breast.
    “Let’s see how sweet you taste.”
    His teeth closed around her nipple, biting hard before sucking in a way intended for pain and not pleasure. Her agonized groan only seemed to make him more excited. He pawed for the hem of her skirt, trying to reach up underneath it. In his excitement, he lessened the pressure on her neck. Knowing it was now or never, Desiree pushed against him with everything she had. He stumbled but managed to right himself.
    “Bitch! You’ll learn better than to cross me.”
    Desperate, she lifted her foot and planted her heel solidly on his instep. Her shoe snapped as Jackson made a strangled, squalling noise and grabbed his foot. Taking the opportunity, she fled.

Chapter Ten
    “Nicolai!” Flynn was flagging him down from the other end of the bar.
    Erik had left hours earlier, going home to his wife. The poor girl was having bouts of nausea. Nicolai had zero experience with pregnant women, but he was glad their positions weren’t reversed. Not that he didn’t like kids or want them for that matter. His life just hadn’t worked out that way.
    Flynn crossed the L, coming to Nicolai’s side of the bar. “Hey! This cabbie says he’s got a passenger without cab fare.”
    “This is my problem how?” His mood had been swinging back and forth from elated to pissed so often he couldn’t keep track of it. Desiree hadn’t walked through the door. On one hand he was glad. On the other he wanted to see her just one more time. Even if it was just a glance from the kitchen, where he’d resolved to hide if she made an appearance.
    “Look, Mister, the lady says she wants to talk to Nicolai.” The cabbie’s words carried such a thick coating of Southie they were almost unintelligible.
    “Lady?” Flynn jabbed him in the ribs. “Must be your angel.”
    The driver shook his head as if disgusted. “She might’ve been someone’s angel before, but some devil used the hell out of her before she got in my cab.”
    Something cold twisted in Nicolai’s gut. If Desiree had gone to one of the damned sex clubs she’d been laughing about,