Counsellor (Acquisition Series Book 1) by Celia Aaron Page A

be afraid. I was. But not of him.
    He moved his hand around to the front of my dress and teased my hardened nipple with his thumb. He groaned low in his throat. The cloak hid his movements, but I felt every single touch. When he cupped my breast and squeezed, I hitched in my breath.
    “You’d let me fuck you right now, wouldn’t you? In front of all these people. Right here.” He released my nape, grabbed my hand, and guided it to the hard length in his pants. “You’d take this.”
    My heart fluttered even faster. I slid my hand along him and his hips jerked toward me. I couldn’t think, couldn’t waste my thoughts on fear when he created an inferno that scorched me in my most secret places.
    “Yes,” I breathed. “I would.”
    “And I’d take you, too. In fact, I will, but not here. Business first. Get through this, and I’ll grant you a reward.” With that, he let me go and backed away. His step was steady but his eyes were wild.
    My skin was needy, demanding his touch and more. What was wrong with me? I hated Vinemont. Maybe it was because of what I’d done to myself. Maybe I felt like I deserved some sort of punishment for being so weak throughout my life? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I wanted him to rekindle the same fire in me, to make me burn for him, no matter the cost.
    He held out his arm for me again. I took it and allowed him to escort me into the glowing hell of the Oakman chateau.
     
    ***
     
    Masked greeters welcomed us and offered to take my cloak. Vinemont declined and swept me further inside the mansion. It was alight with conversation and alcohol. Servers in harlequin masks wove through the revelers, offering drinks and taking already empty glasses.
    One whisked towards us, his tray laden with champagne.
    “No, thank you,” I said.
    Vinemont grabbed two glasses and handed me one. “Drink. It’ll help.”
    I took a sip and then another. We walked further inside. Everything was gilded, golden, and sparkling. Dozens of chandeliers lined the high ceilings, and the walls were covered with intricate murals of romanticized scenes from the old South. It reflected a whitewashed history, the lighter paint hiding a bloody and violent past.
    I waved my glass at the images of cotton fields and smiling slaves. “This is disgusting.”
    “Thank you for your fascinating art critique. Now, drink,” Vinemont urged.
    I swallowed another mouthful of the champagne, my stomach warming. And then the delicious liquid was gone. Vinemont handed the second glass to me.
    “Finish it.”
    I did as he instructed, suddenly thirsty and starving. My lunch at Renee’s hands seemed to have happened days ago.
    “Good.” He passed the empty glasses to a particularly horrific server dressed in complete maudlin. His mask was skeletal even as the bells jingled merrily along his crown.
    What sounded like a full orchestra began playing somewhere deeper in the house. Vinemont and I fell into the stream of masked strangers, some of them in gorgeous gowns that seemed to have come right off a runway. The men were all in staid black tie, the only things marking them as different were the varied masks that hid their faces. Some were pure peacocks, others in simple black. All seemed eager, almost excited. A buzz was in the crowd, elation at what came next, whatever that might be, creating an expectant energy.
    A man plucked the edge of my cape and stared down at me.
    I cringed back into Vinemont.
    The stranger didn’t seem to notice, or care. “A Vinemont, I take it?”
    The hum of the music grew, the whine of violins echoing down the wide marble hallway before the sound coalesced into beauty along with the other instruments.
    “Yes.” Vinemont pulled me into his side, forcing the stranger to release my cloak.
    The stranger smiled, his eyes lighting behind his midnight blue mask. “There are no female Vinemont heirs. So you must be an Acquisition.”
    “I’m just—”
    “She’s mine. Back the fuck off,