Unwrapped (Sugar & Spice #1)

Chapter 1

TESSA

T he Mercer holiday party is exactly what you'd expect from two brothers who've built an empire—glitzy, glamorous, and overflowing with champagne. The penthouse sprawls across the entire top floor of their downtown building, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city skyline and a very coveted, direct view of Lake Michigan.

“Hate to think what this view cost,” an older woman mutters next to me.

“Yeah,” I reply politely with a nervous laugh, about to introduce myself since I am here to mingle but she turns and walks away about as quickly as she appeared. I turn around to face the room—large crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the space, which is decked out in twinkling lights and garlands, and a giant Christmas tree that almost touches the vaulted ceiling. The ornaments alone probably cost more than my monthly rent. In fact, I’m almost positive I saw a Tiffany’s label hanging off of one of them.

The room is beautiful, and I should be soaking in the scene, networking with the city's elite who are scattered throughout the room, but my mind's too busy racing with secret little thoughts about… him .

I scan the room, looking for my best friend Ivy who's off somewhere talking to Asher Mercer about our bakery. And while I should be thinking about business and making connections like I told Ivy I would be, my heart has other plans. Specifically, plans that include tracking down a certain Mercer brother—the other one.

The one who used to make my teenage heart race every time I caught a glimpse of him from across the hallway.

The older, bad boy who still haunts my dreams more than I'd care to admit.

As the captain of the cheer squad, student body president and valedictorian of my graduating class—Zane Mercer and I didn’t come close to running in the same circles. Apart from the fact he was three years older than me and I was friends with his younger brother Asher, he was also not the kind of influence any young girl’s parents wanted their daughter around.

A memory of the last time I remember seeing him in person flashes through my mind. It was the summer after my freshman year of college and I was back in my small town in the suburbs of Chicago. My mom had sent me a text, before I left my apartment in the city that I shared with Ivy, to let me know she saw the Mercer boys in town. She informed me in case I wanted to make a point to say hi to Asher while I was home. I did want to make a point to say hi to one of the Mercer brothers…but it wasn’t Asher.

The sun was burns the skin of my bare arms as I lift my arm to shield my eyes from it’s piercing rays. The summer is starting off strong with temperatures in the high eighties and humidity already nearing August levels. The outfit I took a painstaking amount of time choosing now suddenly feeling too childish when I look down at the flowery, one piece romper that makes me look like an overgrown toddler.

“Shit,” I mutter, tugging at the material in an attempt to pull it down a little lower, showing off what little cleavage I have. I straighten my back, squaring my shoulders as I fluff up my hair and close my car door with my hip.

I may or may not have purposely parked my car on the Main Street in town, right down the block from Mr. Mercer’s insurance office, when I noticed Zane’s telltale black corvette he’s driven since high school.

“You’re not an innocent sixteen year old anymore,” I whisper to my nearly nineteen year old self, convinced that having finally lost my v-card to a guy in college meant that I was a grown ass woman.

That is until a minute later when Zane himself walks out of his dad’s office with his arm around a woman with a body like an actual Coke bottle. For the first time, I understand what that reference meant. His hands move from her waist to her ass, both of them grabbing a handful of her and tugging her closer till she falls against him with a squeal.

I freeze on the sidewalk, my face burning as he backs her against his car, sliding her up onto the hood while he bends her back and drags his tongue down her neck to her tits. It’s the middle of the day and Zane Mercer takes the opportunity to once again show the world he doesn’t give a fuck about the rules, he’s going to do what he wants.

Trying to avoid being noticed, I spin around, tripping over my own feet and falling to one knee. “Ouch!” I wince, glancing down at the red and slightly bloody road rash. But I don’t have time to linger, I’m too embarrassed, standing up and limping away back to my car where I cringe silently, praying he was too engrossed in Miss Coke Bottle’s tits to witness that.

"You look like you're hunting for someone," Ivy says surprising me. I turn just as she appears beside me with two glasses of champagne. She hands me one, a knowing smirk playing on her crimson-painted lips. Her black dress hugging her body and accentuating her décolletage.

I take a long sip of the bubbles, pushing the embarrassment that still lingers from that memory out of my mind and trying to appear casual even as my eyes continue their covert scan of the room. "I'm networking. Isn't that why we're here?"

"Right," she draws out the word, clearly not buying it. "And your networking has nothing to do with a certain brooding Mercer brother that you secretly swooned over in your diary?"

"I never had a diary," I protest, though we both know that's a lie. "And I have no idea what you're talking about. Besides, shouldn't you be more focused on your own Mercer situation? You should see the way that man has been eye fucking you from across the room."

Ivy blushes, glancing over at where Asher stands talking to a group of investors. Unlike his brother, Asher is all easy smiles and charm, his golden hair catching the light as he laughs at something someone said. "That's... different."

"Different how?" I challenge, but my words trail off as I finally spot him.

Zane Mercer stands by the windows, his back to me, looking just as broad-shouldered and intense as I remember. His dark suit is perfectly tailored, outlining a body that seems even more impressive than it was in high school. His profile is sharp against the glittering city lights as he talks to some suit-clad businessman, his arms crossed, radiating that familiar 'don't approach me' energy that used to both intimidate and intrigue me.

"Go talk to him," Ivy nudges me with her elbow. "You're not in high school anymore, Tess. Now you can use those tits and that ridiculous wit to charm him into bed."

"I didn’t say I was going to—" I start to protest, but Ivy's already walking away, throwing me a thumbs-up over her shoulder. I don’t know why I feel the need to lie about my intentions with Zane. Sure there’s a touch of ego in there, wanting him to see me now that I’m grown up but I’m also not above having a hot, holiday fling with him.

I take a deep breath, smoothing down my red cocktail dress. The one I spent an hour painstakingly choosing just for tonight. The back dips low, leaving my skin exposed, a stark contrast to the high neck. It makes me feel powerful, in control of my sexuality. However, the confidence I've built over the years suddenly feels paper-thin, but I push forward anyway.

The closer I get to him, the quieter the surrounding noise becomes and the louder my stilettos hear clicking against the marble floor. I take in a shaky breath, his back still facing me when I approach him.

"Well, if it isn't Zane Mercer," I say, injecting my voice with more confidence than I feel. "Still avoiding the crowd, I see?"

He turns, and for a moment, something flickers in his dark eyes—recognition, maybe surprise. But then it's gone, replaced by that maddeningly neutral expression he's perfected. His jaw is still as sharp as I remember, his dark hair styled in that purposefully messy way that probably took an hour to achieve. A five o’clock shadow gives his otherwise clean cut image an edge.

"Tessa Marlow," he says, my name rolling off his tongue in that gravelly voice that still makes my stomach flip. "Didn't think you'd be here."

He lifts his glass to his lips, taking a healthy sip. That’s when I notice the tattoos on his hands. My eyes must linger on them longer than I realize because his gaze drifts from mine to his own hand with a chuckle.

"No?” I say, pulling my gaze back to his eyes, “And miss a chance to crash a Mercer party?" I raise an eyebrow, channeling every ounce of sass I possess. I pause for a moment, hoping he might reference a memory I still have of seeing him at one of their high school parties. Technically, it wasn’t their party, it was Zane’s party—Asher just let a few of us sneak in. But he doesn’t bite so I continue. "Besides, your brother's helping with our bakery. Or didn't you hear?"

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "Heard something about it. Asher's always picking up new...” he pauses, offering a smirk, “projects."

The way he says 'projects' isn’t exactly complementary and I don’t need to be a genius to see he probably couldn’t care less about said project. Ten years later and he still has the ability to get under my skin with just a few words.

"Is that all you think this is? A project?"

"Isn't it?" He turns to face me fully now, his height forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. My mouth goes dry, I forgot what an imposing figure Zane Mercer is. His cologne wraps around me—a scent I’m not familiar with but instantly it makes my head spin. "My brother's always had a soft spot for lost causes."

"Lost causes?" I step closer, irritation making me bold. The champagne probably helps too. "Our bakery is suc—is not a lost cause, Zane. And what a rude thing to say.” I lift my glass to my lips to let it go but my frustration gets the best of me. “We didn't come here begging for handouts. We came because your brother saw potential in what we've built. Not that you'd know anything about that, since you're too busy sulking in corners to actually pay attention to what's happening around you."

A ghost of a smile touches his lips, and damn if it doesn't make him even more attractive. "You always did have fire in you, Marlow. Even back in school."

The comment throws me off balance. "You... you noticed me in school?" Instantly I wish I could take it back. My cheeks flush at my moment of vulnerability and suddenly I’m that shy sixteen year old girl all over again.

"Hard not to," he says cryptically, then adds, "You were always around, weren't you? Following Asher like a puppy."

My cheeks burn. "I wasn't following Asher, you jackass. I was—" I catch myself before I can admit I was actually trying to catch glimpses of him. That I used to time my walks to class just so I could pass him in the hallway on the off chance he actually showed up to school.

"You were what?" He prompts, and there's something almost playful in his tone now.

"Nothing," I snap, taking another sip of champagne to hide my flustered state. "God, you're still just as infuriating as you were back then you know that? I thought with age you might have grown out if this.."

"And you're still just as..." he pauses, his eyes trailing over me in a way that makes my skin tingle, "transparent."

"Transparent?" I scoff, even as my heart races. "You don't know the first thing about me, Zane Mercer. You think just because I was the popular cheerleader in high school that you have me…” my words trail off as he takes a step closer to me.

He leans in slightly, and I catch another whiff of his cologne. "No? Then why are you over here talking to me instead of networking with all those potential investors?"

I meet his gaze defiantly. "Maybe I like a challenge."

"Or maybe," he says, his voice dropping lower, "you're still that same girl who used to watch me from behind her little pom-poms, thinking I didn't notice."

My breath catches in my throat. All these years, I thought I'd been so subtle. "I didn't?—"

"You did," he cuts me off, a smugness in his tone that both infuriates and excites me. "And now here you are, all grown up and still looking at me the same way."

"You're delusional," I manage to say, but my voice comes out breathier than I intended. My plan to have the upper hand on him tonight is quickly dwindling.

He smirks, and the expression is so devastatingly attractive I want to either slap him or kiss him. Maybe both. "Am I? Prove it. Stay away from me for the rest of the night."

It's a challenge, and we both know it. The smart thing would be to walk away, to prove him wrong. To show him that I'm not that same lovesick teenager who used to pine after him. But something keeps me rooted to the spot, my heart pounding as I stare up at him.

"Fine," I say finally, squaring my shoulders. "Challenge accepted. But just so you know, Zane? You're not as irresistible as you think you are."

His laugh is low and knowing, sending shivers down my spine. "We'll see about that, won't we, Marlow?"

I turn and walk away, my heels clicking against the marble floor, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. And despite my words, despite my determination to prove him wrong, I already know I'll be back. Because some things never change—and apparently, my weakness for Zane Mercer is one of them.

As I make my way back to where Ivy stands with Asher, I catch my reflection in one of the windows. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes bright, and I look exactly like what I am—a woman who's just been thoroughly rattled by the man she never quite got over.

God help me.