Chapter 1

"Instinctu divitatis," Jason Morgan murmured in a heavy Italian accent as he glanced down at the petit, brunette who had been eyeing the photograph of the Arch of Constantine.

She raised an eyebrow at him, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity as a slow grin tugged at her lips. Her eyes lowered briefly, sweeping over his form, and Jason knew she was admiring him for all that he was worth.

He returned her admiration, drinking in the way her crimson ball gown fit her snugly at the hips, displaying her tiny waist that he had the immediate desire to feel wrapped around him. His gaze lingered at the steep dip of her neckline, reveling in how the material folded around her supple breasts.

"Jason," he said in a low husky voice, extending his hand out to her, relieved to finally come across someone he was sure he could talk to.

She removed one of her hands that had been clutching her glass of champagne and placed it into his. "Elizabeth," she replied, her slender fingers giving his hand a tight squeeze.

Her palm was soft like velvet against his calloused hand and Jason grinned knowing that the rest of her body was probably just as silky. He licked his lips, imagining what she would be like in bed. She looked soft and demure, but like most women of her physique, they had a dirty side-one that Jason Morgan ached to bring out.

She pulled her hand away from his and tilted her head towards the photograph. "I take it you're an architecture aficionado."

"Italy enthusiast," he corrected, swinging his eyes briefly back to the photograph, then back at hers. They were blue, but not just any blue. They were a color and a brightness that had yet to be defined. He had the feeling that a lot of her was undefined. "The Arch of Constantine is one of the most beautiful-"

"Most people would say that's the Coliseum," she said challengingly as she gently brushed her loosely curled locks from her face.

"Then those people have never actually been to Italy," he replied smugly, dipping his head towards her. "Though there is also-"

"Palatine Hill," Elizabeth cut in, interrupting him for the second time. Jason tried to hide his amusement of her knowledge, but of course, she had picked up on it. She sipped her champagne, then placed a mocking hand on her chest. "What? Did I steal your next attempt at making me feel inferior?"

He swallowed hard, tugging at the collar of his tuxedo shirt. "I wasn't implying-"

"Yes, you were," she whispered, leaning into him. "You thought you'd rattle off some unimpressive history and that I would fall all over myself in disbelief that a man cares that much," She paused again, switching to a breathy, ditzy tone, "About an old building that some stupid Italian carved."

She cocked her head at him, her lips wearing the most beautiful smirk Jason had ever seen. "Intinctu divinitatis…Do you even know what that means? What it really means?"

"Inspired by the divine," he replied without missing a beat, though it was hard for him to focus when she was looking at him like that. Her lips were far too plump, asking to be taken, and the smell of vanilla that seemed to roll off of her in waves was nearly drowning him.

He took a sip of his bourbon, narrowing his eyes at her. "Some call it a play on Constantine's religious context, of how God appeared in a vision to Constantine. I'm sure you know the whole To the Emperor Caesar Flavius Constantinus, the greatest, pious, and-"

"Blessed Augustus: because he, inspired by the divine, and by the greatness…And so on," she filled in, blatantly rolling her eyes at Jason. She glanced around the room, shaking her head. "How many women does this tactic work on?"

Jason didn't have to follow her gaze to know that she was criticizing every bleached blonde, implanted and tucked, poorly dressed date that the majority of men had brought tonight.

He hated functions like these, yet they were always deemed necessary whenever he established some kind of new business venture. His partner always told him, they reminded people of his true, inner virtues, but Jason could have cared less. People knew who he was and what he did regardless and it had never phased him. He wasn't going to brown nose and gravel at those who were secretly disgusted by him and the things he did when the sun went down.

It was truly sad, which was why he spent most of the night by himself. Careening from poker table to poker table, only to end up alone on the deck watching the stars that appeared to float over the water.

"I wasn't trying to use it on them," he said, continuing their banter as he flashed a flirtatious grin at her.

She tried not to return the smile, but it was obvious she was flattered by his attention. "Oh, no, you don't have to be that creative with them," she replied. "I'm sure something along the lines of I have a condom, meet me in the nearest empty bathroom works just fine."

He shrugged, flicking his tongue across his lips. She definitely was not like most women who attended this functions. "Is the bathroom too tacky for a woman of your stature?"

"To each their own," she replied, folding one arm across her chest as she sipped her champagne. She leaned into him, her eyes fiery with desire. "But I prefer the coat closet."

He bit his cheeks to keep from laughing, but couldn't help and enjoy the way she came back at him so quickly. "Coat closets are nice," he murmured, his eyes roaming over body again. He imagined how well the curve of her body would mold against his. "They're dark and quiet…"

"Plenty of bars and racks to brace yourself on," she replied coyly, her tongue sweeping across her lips before she sank her teeth into the lower one. "Though, it can prove to be hell on your body the next day."

She winked at him, then turned away sauntering down the row of photographs that were hanging on the wall. He watched the way her hips move, swinging from side to side, the fabric bunching around the smooth curve of her ass.

Okay, so normally, he hated functions like these where everyone wore a façade that countered their true existence, the rich and poor coming out alike. Each person competing to have acquired the most attractive date and posh suit or the most supplicated demeanor. At midnight, the boat would dock and the guests would retire to their rooms or onto dry land, the reality of their sad lives coming back to them. And those that refused to give up on their fantasy right away, would continue playing craps and blackjack until their wallets were empty and their savings scraped dry.

But she was different.

"Who is that fine piece of-"

"She's mine," Jason cut in, turning his head towards his friend and business partner, Johnny O'Brien.

"She's all real," he replied, making an unimpressed face. "You know me. I like my blondes with the silicone boobs and-"

"Then you should have your fill tonight," he said, rolling his eyes in disgust.

Jason Morgan may have slept with a lot of women, but he had never succumbed to one who was over tanned and plastically built. He wanted a woman with skin as soft as silk and a good, sultry smell that lingered on him for days. He liked his women's bodies to move beneath him. He liked being able to mold their breast in the palm of his hand, making it his own.

"What's her name?"

"Elizabeth."

"Which tells me jack shit," he said, looking her over far too much for Jason's comfort. Jason slapped him in the side of the head. "What the hell was that for?"

"Mine."

"You're awfully possessive over this chick. Who is she?"

"I have no idea," Jason replied, his mouth going dry when she looked his way long enough to swipe her tongue over her button lip before chewing it on, a devious grin on her face. He ached to chew on it for her. "But I need you to find out."

"It's your boat," Johnny murmured in annoyance. "Your casino opening. Isn't that damn assistant of yours supposed to keep up with stuff like this?"

"Oh, you mean the one I had to fire because you slept with her," he spat, taking a long sip of his bourbon, his eyes following Elizabeth's body as she moseyed across the room.

Johnny grunted. "I told her I don't do commitments. And then she went all Fatal Attraction on me."

He flashed his eyes to Johnny's, shooting him a glare. "Fatal Attraction?"

"Michael Douglas bangs the shit out of Glen Close. And he's married and she goes-"

"Johnny, shut up," he interrupted, shaking his head. Johnny started to ramble on again, but he ignored him, realizing that he'd lost her. He glanced around the room, his eyes suddenly landing on her again. It was as if she was waiting on him to find her. "I'm not asking you. Just find out whatever you can about her."

"So, maybe it's your turn to go all Fatal Attraction," Johnny murmured, turning around and stalking off towards the bar.

Jason ignored his fit, knowing Johnny would come through like he always did. He watched as she played with the strap of her dress, letting her delicate hand linger against her creamy shoulder, a bemused smile on her face. She looked as though she didn't understand why Jason was giving her so much attention, but she sure was enjoying it.

He groaned quietly to himself when he felt the stirring in his pants. He tucked his hand into the waist of his pants, adjusting them against him, knowing that at this rate, he'd either have to get her into the coat closet or go home empty handed.

And Jason Morgan never went home empty handed.