Anna DePalo - CEO's Marriage Seduction / His Style of Seduction - CEO's Marriage Seduction / His Style of Seduction

A car was parked in a deserted lot illuminated by yellow streetlights. After a few moments, it began to shake and move with the exertions of its occupants. Eventually a disheveled Carter and a half-dressed woman emerged, and Carter helped the woman with the clasp of her bra and her sweater. While the woman brushed her hair and applied lipstick, Carter ran his hands over her. Finally the pair made it back into the car and drove off.

A second segment on the DVD showed Carter and the brunette arriving at a motel. Through the glass window of the motel’s front office, Carter and his female companion could be seen checking in. Afterward, the pair headed to a second-floor room.

When the video ended, Griffin leaned down to pop the DVD out of the computer.

His lips twisted. Apparently Carter wasn’t too cheap to shell out for a bed occasionally . Or maybe in some situations his sexual encounters didn’t need to be so hurried because he didn’t have to run back to Eva.

The bastard .

Griffin switched out the DVD for the CD Ron had sent, set it to Play and leaned back in his chair again.

After a few seconds, the audio came on. A man and woman could be heard conversing against a low murmur of background noise and voices.

At first the couple talked about banal things like the menu, but after a waiter had departed with their order, the conversation turned sexual.

The woman used Carter’s name a couple of times, while he referred to her as “Sondra” or, more often, “baby.”

Griffin rolled his eyes as the woman recalled her last sexual encounter with Carter, then pouted about not having more of his time.

Yeah, right , Griffin thought. If Carter wasn’t set on reeling in an heiress, he supposed the woman had a fighting chance of getting more of Carter’s attention.

Griffin listened as Carter tried to placate his companion with assurances that he’d soon whisk her away for a Mexican vacation and that he was expecting a windfall that he couldn’t go into details about.

Griffin felt his temper ignite. It was clear Carter’s windfall was his upcoming marriage. Obviously Carter wasn’t going to divulge to his lover that he was two-timing an heiress. It might expose him to blackmail.

Carter was toast , Griffin thought. If he ever got his hands on pedigree boy…

The audio recording continued to follow the couple through their meal. Toward the end of it, Carter began to describe in intimate detail what he wanted to do to Sondra.

When the audio recording ended, Griffin mulled over his options and didn’t like any of them.

Just how the hell was he supposed to share this with Eva? She’d hate him for life, if she didn’t despise him already.

Later that day, he had the misfortune of running into Marcus when the older man stopped by his office just as he was about to exit it.

“Have you heard anything yet from Ron?” Marcus asked.

“Nothing,” Griffin heard himself respond.

He didn’t even have to think about his reply.

But it occurred to him afterward it was the first time he’d had to lie to Marcus Tremont about anything important.

Three

Eva curled up on the couch. Her Bluetooth headset allowed her to speak with her mother while she paged through one of several magazines about San Francisco’s social scene. She liked to keep up with what her clients, as well as her business competition, were doing.

It was a Tuesday evening—a night of the week she could usually count on to be able to kick back and relax.

As a party planner, she lived on the opposite timetable from the rest of the world. Midweek was her weekend, while at the end of the week, she became turbocharged as things heated up at work. On weekends, she was often supervising her employees at some museum fund-raiser or at a socialite-hosted charity lunch, making sure everything went off flawlessly.

Now, however, her midweek was being consumed by wedding planning.

“What about the Fairmont?” her mother asked.

“I’m not sure it’s exactly what I’m looking for….”

It had quickly become apparent to her that her mother was picturing a wedding for hundreds of family, friends and assorted business associates.

The historic Fairmont Hotel, with its gilded rooms projecting an old-world elegance, was well suited for the purpose.

The problem was, Eva acknowledged, that she herself longed for something more intimate.

But Carter seemed to be on the same page as her mother.

“What about the Palace of Fine Arts then?” her mother asked, naming another popular and elegant San Francisco wedding location.

Eva sighed.

“I heard that,” her mother said.

“Did you?” she asked absently.

“It’s too bad your father owns only commercial office space,” her mother remarked with dry humor. “At a time like this, we could use an inside edge.”

“I’m not sure Dad will even attend the wedding.”

“Oh, he’ll come around,” her mother said breezily, repeating her unwavering opinion up to now. “You’re his only child, and though he may have a hard time showing it sometimes, he really does care about you.”

The buzzer sounded, and Eva wondered who could be ringing her doorbell.

Her town house condo was in a low-rise development in Russian Hill. Though she had friends nearby, no one was in the habit of dropping by unannounced. And she knew her close friend, Beth Harding, was out of town at the moment.

“Mom,” she said, “I’ve got to go. Someone’s at the door.”

“All right. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow so we can continue to talk about wedding plans.”

Her heart lightened. “It’ll be fun.”

This was what she’d looked forward to. Sharing one of life’s passages with her mother.

“Oh, I just know I’m going to get teary seeing you in a wedding gown,” her mother responded, her voice suddenly choked.

Eva felt tears clog her own throat. “I know, Mom. I know.”

After ending the call with her mother, she slipped her feet into her shoes and went to her front door.

Because the ground level of her condo housed a garage and storage area, her front door was one flight up from the street, accessible via an enclosed external stairwell, at the foot of which was a tall locked iron gate.

She opened the door and locked eyes with the last person she expected to see darkening her doorstep. Griffin Slater .

Automatically she tensed.

“Can I come up?” he called.

Her mind ran over the possibilities. Yes, no, when hell freezes over?

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone coming out more suspicious than she intended.

He seemed to find her question amusing.

“Would you believe I just happened to be in the neighborhood?” he responded.

“Actually, no,” she replied, even as good manners impelled her down the stairs to open the gate.

She knew he lived in nearby Pacific Heights, but she’d never run into him on her home turf.

They ran in different circles. She was too bohemian, too much of a free spirit, she was sure, for Griffin Slater’s taste. On the other hand, he probably even scheduled sex with the women he dated.

She didn’t understand why he was so irritating by nature. His siblings were pleasant people. She even counted his sister among her extended circle of friends.

With Griffin, however, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was letting the Big Bad Wolf in.

As usual, he wore a conservative business suit—this time set off by a herringbone shirt and bright yellow-and-blue striped tie. In contrast, her mauve shirt and tan pants—which she’d worn at work that day and hadn’t yet changed out of—felt almost casual in comparison.