First Rapture (The Rapture #1)(6)

“Not really surprising. He’s always been drop-dead gorgeous,” Kristen admitted. “Of course, I’ve heard that he’s now supposedly reformed.”

“Reformed?”

“He stopped hopping from bed to bed.”

Madison made a sound of disbelief. “Yeah, right. And I’m about to sprout wings and fly to the moon.”

“Oh my god.” Kristen widened her eyes in shock at Madison’s bitter tone. “You’re still in love with him.”

“No,” Madison snapped. “I was never in love with the bastard. But he’s like a virus that’s infected my life. I’m here to purge him once and for all.”

***

The charity event being held at the upscale hotel was like any other charity event.

A mediocre dinner that cost the social elite five hundred dollars a plate. An auction where they were expected to overbid on ridiculous items that no one wanted. Followed by a dance where bored husbands flirted with the scantily-dressed barmaids, and equally bored wives exchanged vicious gossip.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t risk offending the hostess who’d arranged the event for a new science building at the local university, or endangered muskrats, or whatever happened to be the current flavor of the month. Not when her husband was an investor in Luc’s real estate company.

Much to everyone’s astonishment, including his own, Luc had walked away from his father’s casino empire five years ago. He was done trying to earn the old man’s respect, choosing instead to try and halt the steady decline of the city he loved.

Buying corporate buildings and new construction in foreclosure, he used his contacts spread throughout the world to flip the properties and bring in new businesses.

In some ways he was still in the gambling business. Only this time it was with his money and the money of his investors.

And he’d been highly successful.

But he was in the delicate process of expanding his business, which meant rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful to keep his investors happy.

It also meant he couldn’t just leave when his current stalker followed him onto the balcony overlooking the gaudy, spectacular beauty of Vegas.

“Please, Luc,” the voluptuous redhead pleaded, her fake lashes framing her green eyes like stiff spikes, and her lips slick with red gloss. “Would you just listen to me?”

Luc downed the last of his aged whiskey, wishing to hell he’d never given in to his rash impulse to ask out the persistent female.

His only excuse was that he’d been bored and searching for something he couldn’t seem to find.

Something he still couldn’t find.

“I told you not to follow me here, Sherri,” he growled, shaking off her clinging grip.

“What choice did I have?” she pouted. “You won’t accept my phone calls.”

“Because we have nothing to say.” He sent her a warning glare that not even she could fail to comprehend. “Walk away or I’ll tell your father about that vial of white power you keep in your purse.”

Her expression abruptly hardened, the green eyes glittering like chips of emeralds. “Bastard.”

With a flounce, Sherri turned to head back into the crowded party, leaving behind the overwhelming stench of her expensive perfume.

Luc grimaced, wishing to god he’d made up an excuse to avoid the evening. Especially when yet another female appeared in the open doorway, her slender form outlined by the lights of the ballroom.

“The Dark Angel strikes again,” a low, delectably feminine voice purred. “Do you actually keep a tally of how many hearts you’ve broken over the years?”

“Hardly. I…” His annoyed denial died away as the woman stepped onto the balcony, the moonlight gliding over her tall, willowy body. His breath caught in his throat. Her feminine shape was shown to advantage in the long black Dior gown that split up the sides to reveal slender, impossibly long legs, and a tight bodice that hugged the curve of her br**sts. Her glossy dark hair was left free to tumble over her bare shoulders, the silken strands emphasizing the creamy perfection of her skin. A shockingly intense arousal blasted through him, followed by an equally shocking recognition. “Christ. Maddy?”

A cool smile touched her lips. “It’s Madison.”

Luc’s boredom was seared away by a thrilling sense of pleasure as he studied the female who’d invaded his dreams a hundred times over the years.

“Madison,” he murmured, his gaze drinking in her astonishing beauty.

She’d always been pretty. A fresh-faced innocent who’d tempted him more than he’d ever wanted to admit.

Until that night…

Luc hissed as he instantly became hard at the memory of sliding into the tight, exquisite heat of her body. Shit. Nothing had ever felt so good.

“Long time, no see,” she said, moving to lean her hip against the iron balustrade, her movements hypnotically graceful.

Luc smiled, a tingle of erotic anticipation racing through his body.

“That’s not entirely true. I’ve seen you everywhere over the years,” he admitted, belatedly realizing why he’d been so obsessed with following her rocketing launch into fame. He’d never gotten her out of his system. Madison Philips was not only the one who gotten away, but she was the only one worth keeping. “Magazines, billboards, even TV. The face of Tivago Tequila.” He lifted his empty glass in a toast of genuine appreciation. This woman had every excuse to fail, and instead she’d risen above her past to become an international star. “It was a great campaign. And very clever of you to take your payment in stocks rather than cash.”