Revenge. Lust. Betrayal
I've watched him for weeks. I have no idea who he is or why he holds the key to saving my father's life. But I'm fascinated by him. A hard-bodied, long-haired, unshaven, stunning man. I shouldn't want him. Desire can cloud judgment and I need to be sharp to steal the information he has hidden away in his secluded mansion.
And when he catches me, I shouldn't be so eager to take the deal he offers: My body for a file with all the answers I need. He wants to spread me on his desk and make me cry out his name before he takes me. I'm only too eager to agree.
But when he's finished with me, will he keep his word? Or will he propose a deal even more indecent...
Warning: This is the first part of a longer story and ends on a cliffhanger. You may want to throw your ereader against the wall (I suggest you don't). But don't worry, the next book is coming.
Read an excerpt ...
I had a feeling she’d come tonight.
Anticipation runs through my body like an electric charge, making my heart pound and my breathing quicken.
I tell myself it’s because I can finally finish what I started, but some part of my brain knows that’s not true.
I ignore that and concentrate on not making a sound as I head from my hiding place on the third floor to the attic bedroom while she enters the library below.
It’s been almost two weeks since she started watching the house. I knew she’d make her move soon. The countdown to save her father is getting closer to zero and Olivia will do everything she can to save him.
What she doesn’t know is that she needs to save him from me.
And she’s about to learn just how much it’s going to cost her.
Watching her through the security system feed on my phone, I know she’s found the safe and is making her way back up the staircase.
Damn, the girl moves like a gymnast. No, like a trained dancer. I’d gotten hard watching her climb the wall of the house like she’s fucking Spider-Man.
Hell, if I’m honest, I’ll admit I get hard anytime I see Olivia. I tell myself it’s because she’s beautiful and any man who sees her wants her. But I know that’s bullshit.
There’s something about this woman that makes me want to fuck her.
And I’m going to. She’s going to give me what I want tonight and I’m going to take back what she needs to save her father. Then I’m going to watch the bastard twist in the wind before I shut him down.
I can’t fucking wait. The smile on my face would probably terrify her. Tough shit.
She’s a thief. A good one, by all accounts. But she’s still a thief. Tonight, she’ll learn what it’s like to be on the opposite side. Tonight, I’m going to steal what she needs so desperately.
Then I’m going to send her back to her father and watch the trap close around him.
Through the security feed, I see she’s reached the second floor. Where she pauses, looking at the closed doors. At my bedroom door, in particular.
Of course she knows which one it is. She’s been watching the house for two weeks. I made no effort to hide the fact that that’s the room I sleep in. But why is she staring at it?
I want to see her expression but the darkness and the grainy quality of the feed skews my vision.
There’s no way in hell she’s looking at my door with anything other than fear. Maybe she thinks she heard something. Maybe she’s being overly cautious. Maybe…
In the next second, she shakes her head and continues to the stairs to the third floor.
Now my heart thumps against my ribs like a trapped animal, and again I tell myself it’s simply the fact that I’m going to finish what Granddad couldn’t. It doesn’t have anything to do with feelings. I have no feelings for this girl.
She’s a means to an end. The fact that I want her is irrelevant. It just means—
A pang of something I refuse to call guilt hits me. I’m not going to take anything she won’t freely give. I’m just not going to let her have her prize at the end of the night.
She’ll hate me but who cares? I certainly won’t.
She’s almost to the top of the staircase now and I sit a little straighter in the chair facing the door, in the darkest corner of the room. She might not see me before I make my presence known. Then again, she might realize I’m there and try to run. She won’t get far. All of the other windows and doors are locked down tight and there’s nowhere for her to run unless she breaks a window.
I don’t think she’ll run.
I think she’s smart enough to know it won’t help her situation.
When she puts her hand on the doorknob, I put my phone down, that sense of anticipation rising until my lungs hurt.
I force myself to relax as the door opens and she steps into the room.
Her form is a dark shadow as she closes the door silently behind her. I’m in the room with her and I don’t hear her make a sound as she runs to the window.
I let her put hand on the window and swing it open before I say, “Did you find what you need?”
She freezes, so still I swear she’s not breathing.
Then she moves as if to jump through the window.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The dogs will be on you in seconds. Why don’t you turn around?”
She doesn’t comply right away. I didn’t expect her to. Frankly, I expect her to jump. To try to, at least. I wouldn’t have let her. She’d hurt herself and that’s not how I want this night to end.
“Olivia, please. I’m not going to hurt you. Have a seat. I want to talk.”
She flinches when I say her name but stays with her back to me.
I don’t want to have to get physical. Yet. But I will if she leaves me no choice.
A second later, she straightens away from the wall and turns. There’s enough light streaming in from the window that I can see her clearly now.
My cock hardens even more.
I know from the investigator’s report that her mother was part Japanese and part Italian. And her father is some combination of English, German, and French.
And she’s a fucking beautifully exotic combination of genes with straight black hair, pale gray eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a mouth so perfect I want to devour her.
At least for this one night.
When the sun comes up, she leaves and I go on with my life.
Her gaze meets mine and I see defiance in the line of her mouth. She looks like a teenager but she’s twenty-five. More than old enough to understand exactly how much trouble she’s in. How much danger.
Though she doesn’t know it, I won’t physically hurt her. That goes beyond the line I’ve drawn. But she will give me what I want.
“You know my name.”
Her voice holds only a hint of roughness. No accent. It makes the small hairs on my body stand on end.
“I know a lot more than that.”