Loe raamatut: «Baby Of His Revenge»

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Wedlocked

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“I SHOULD FIRE you right now, Laney.” Her boss glared at her. “Anyone would love to have your job. All of them less stupid than you!”

“I’m sorry!” Laney May Henry had tears in her eyes as she saw the hot coffee she’d just spilled on her boss’s prized white fur coat, which had been hanging on the back of a chair. Leaning forward, she desperately tried to clean the stain with the hem of her faded cotton shirt. “It wasn’t...”

“Wasn’t what?” Her boss, a coldly beautiful American-born countess who had been married and divorced four times, narrowed her carefully made-up eyes. “What are you trying to imply?”

It wasn’t my fault. But Laney took a deep breath. She knew there was no point in telling her boss that her friend had deliberately tripped her as she’d brought them coffee. No point, because her boss had seen the whole thing and had laughed along with her friend as Laney tripped with a noisy oof, sprawling helter-skelter across the carpet of the lavish Monaco flat. For her boss, it had all been a good joke—until she saw the coffee hit her full-length fur coat.

“Well?” Mimi du Plessis, the Comtesse de Fourcil, demanded. “I’m waiting.”

Laney dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, Madame la Comtesse.”

Her boss turned to her friend, dressed in head-to-toe Dolce and Gabbana on the other side of the white leather sofa, smoking. “She’s stupid, isn’t she?”

“Very stupid,” the friend agreed, daintily puffing out a smoke ring.

“So hard to get good help these days.”

Biting her lip hard, Laney stared down at the white rug. Two years ago, she’d been hired to organize Mimi du Plessis’s wardrobe, keep track of her social engagements and run errands. But Laney had quickly discovered why the salary was so good. She was on call day and night, often needing to work twenty-hour days and endure her boss’s continual taunts. Every day of the last two years, Laney had fantasized about quitting and going back to New Orleans. But she couldn’t. Her family desperately needed the money, and she loved her family.

“Take the fur and get out of here. I can’t stand to look at your pathetic little face another moment. Get the coat to the cleaners and heaven help you if it’s not back before the New Year’s Eve gala tonight.” Dismissing her, the comtesse turned back to her friend, resuming their earlier conversation. “I think tonight Kassius Black will finally make his move.”

“You think so?” her friend said eagerly.

The comtesse smiled, like a smug Persian cat with a golden bowl of overpriced cream. “He’s already wasted millions of euros giving anonymous loans to my boss. But the way things are going, my boss’s company will be bankrupt within the year. I finally told Kassius that if he wants my attention, he should stop throwing money down the drain and just ask me out.”

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t deny it.”

“So he’s taking you to the ball tonight?”

“Not exactly...” She shrugged. “But I was tired of waiting for him to make his move. It’s obvious he must be wildly in love with me. And I’m ready to get married again.”

“Married?”

“Why not?”

Her friend pursed her lips. “Darling, yes, Kassius Black is rich as sin and dangerously handsome, but who is he? Where does he come from? Who are his people? No one knows.”

“Who cares?” Mimi du Plessis, who liked to brag about how she could trace her family history back not only to the Mayflower, but to Charlemagne, now shrugged it off. “I’m fed up with aristocrats without a single dollar to their name. My last husband, the comte, bled me dry. Sure, I got his title—but after the divorce I had to get a job. Me! A job!” She shuddered at the indignity, then brightened. “But once I’m Kassius Black’s wife, I’ll never have to worry about working again. He’s the tenth-richest man in the world!”

Her friend elegantly blew out another smoke ring. “Ninth. His real estate investments have exploded.”

“Even better. I know he’ll try to kiss me at midnight. I can’t wait. You can just tell any wife of his would be well satisfied in bed...” Her sharp face narrowed when she saw Laney still hesitating unhappily by the sofa, heavy coat in her arms. “Well? What are you still doing here?”

“I’m sorry, madame, but I need your credit card.”

“Give you my card? That’s a joke. Pay for it yourself. And get us more coffee. Hurry up, you idiot!”

Beneath the weight of the white fur coat, Laney took the elevator downstairs and trudged through the lobby of the elegant Hôtel de Carillon onto the most expensive street in Monaco, filled with designer shops, overlooking the famous Casino de Monte Carlo and the Mediterranean Sea. As she walked out of the exclusive residential hotel, the doorman gave her an encouraging smile. “Ça va, Laney?”

“Ça va, Jacques,” she replied, mustering up a smile. But the heavy gray clouds seemed as leaden as her heart.

It had just stopped raining. The street was wet and so were the expensive sports cars revving by, along with the sodden-looking tourists crowded together in packs on the sidewalk. In late December, the winter afternoons were short and the nights were long. But that only added to the delight of New Year’s Eve. It was a popular time for people, especially wealthy yacht owners, to visit Monaco and enjoy exclusive parties, designer shops and world-class restaurants.

Laney comforted herself with the thought that at least the rain had stopped. Aside from her worries about the coat getting wet, she’d run out of the building too fast to grab her coat and just wore a plain white shirt, loose khakis and sensible clogs with her dark hair pulled up in a ponytail—the uniform of the servant class. But even without rain, the air was damp and chilly, and the sun was weak. Shivering, she held the fur coat tightly in her arms, both to protect it from being splashed by a passing car and to keep herself warm.

She didn’t like her boss’s fur coats much. They reminded her too much of the pets she’d loved growing up at her grandmother’s house outside New Orleans, the sweet, dopey old hound dogs and proudly independent cats. They’d comforted her through some heartbreaking days as a teenager. Thinking of them reminded Laney of everything else she missed about home. A lump rose in her throat. It had been two years since she’d last seen her family.

Don’t think about it. She took a deep breath. The fur in her arms was bulky and big, and Laney was on the petite side, so she shifted the coat over her shoulder to look down at her smartphone.

But as she scouted out the nearest fur cleaner, she was suddenly jostled by a large group of tourists stampeding by, blindly following their guide’s flag up ahead. Stumbling forward, Laney tripped off the curb and fell forward into the street. Turning with a gasp, as if in slow motion, she saw a red sports car barreling down on her!

There was a loud squeal of tires, and Laney felt a surge of regret that she was going to die, at twenty-five, far from home and everyone she loved, holding her boss’s dirty fur coat, run over by a car. She just wished she could tell her grandmother and her father one last time that she loved them...

She closed her eyes and held her breath as she felt the impact. The car knocked her over the hood and she flew, then fell hard on something soft.

The air was knocked out of her lungs, and she wheezed for breath as everything went dark.

“Damn you, what were you thinking!”

It was a man’s voice. It didn’t sound like the voice of God, either, so she couldn’t be dead. Laney’s eyes fluttered open.

A man was standing over her, looking down. His face and body were hidden in shadow, but he was tall, broad-shouldered. And, it seemed, angry.

A crowd gathered around them as the man knelt beside her.

“Why did you run out in the street like that?” The man was dark-haired, dark-eyed, handsome. “I could have killed you!”

Laney suddenly recognized him. Coughing, she sat up abruptly. A wave of dizziness went through her, and she put her hand on her head, feeling sick.

“Be careful, damn you!”

“Kassius—Black,” she croaked.

“Do I know you?” he said tersely.

Why would he? She was nobody. “No...”

“Are you injured?”

“No,” she whispered, then realized to her shock that it was true. Looking down, she saw the fur had blocked her impact against the street like a soft pillow. Incredulously, she touched the nose of the wildly sleek and expensive sports car pressing into her shoulder. He must have stopped on a dime.

“You’re in shock.” Without asking permission, he ran his hands over her. He was no doubt searching for broken bones, but having him touch her—stroking her arms, her legs, her shoulders—caused heat to flood through Laney. Her cheeks burned, and she pushed him away.

“I’m fine.”

He looked at her skeptically.

She look a shuddering breath and tried to smile. “Really.”

Of all the billionaires in Monaco—and there were tons—she’d just inconvenienced the one her boss wanted, this mysterious and dangerous man. If the comtesse found out Laney had caused him problems, on top of everything else...

Laney tried to stand up.

“Wait,” he barked. “Take a breath. This is serious.”

“Why?” She glanced back at the glossy fender of the car. “Did I hurt your Lamborghini?”

“Funny.” His voice was dry. He was looking at her narrowly. “What were you thinking, jumping in front of me?”

“I tripped.”

“You should have been more careful.”

“Thanks.” Rubbing her elbow, she winced. On the two occasions she’d seen the man before, while he was having lunch meetings with the comtesse, Laney had vaguely thought Kassius Black must be an American raised in Europe, or possibly a European raised in America. But there was a strange inflection in his voice that didn’t suit either theory. In fact, it was an accent she recognized well. But it obviously wasn’t possible. She rubbed her forehead. She must have hit it harder than she thought. “I’ll try to take your advice in the future.”

Rising to his feet, he looked around at the crowd that had formed a semicircle around them in the street. “Is there a doctor?” No one moved, even when he repeated the request in rapid succession in three other languages. He pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Um...” She bit her lip. “That’s nice and all, but I’m afraid I don’t have time for that.”

He looked incredulous. “You don’t have time for an ambulance?”

She gave herself a quick look for gushing blood or maybe a broken leg she hadn’t noticed. But the worst that seemed to have happened was that she’d had the wind knocked out of her and had gotten a little lump on her forehead. She touched it. “I’m on an urgent errand for my boss.”

Wincing a little, she pushed herself off the street and rose to her feet. He reached out his hand to help her. When their hands touched, she felt electricity course through her body, making her shake all over. She looked up at him. He was nearly an entire foot taller than she was, handsome and powerful and sleek in his dark suit. She could only imagine what a pathetic mess she looked like right now. Talk about noblesse oblige.

She dropped his hand.

“Well, thanks for stopping your car,” she muttered. “I’d better get going...”

“Who’s your boss?”

“Mimi du Plessis, the Comtesse de Fourcil.”

“Mimi?” Abruptly, the man stepped closer, searching her face. Recognition dawned. “Wait. I know you now. The little mouse who scampers around Mimi’s flat, fetching her slippers and finding her phone.”

Laney blushed. “I’m her assistant.”

“What was her errand, so important that you nearly died for it?”

“But I didn’t die.”

“Lucky for you.”

“Lucky,” she breathed as she tilted her head back. Her mind felt oddly blank as she looked up at him. Up close, he was even more handsome. And his face had character, with an interesting scar across one of his high cheekbones. His aquiline nose was slightly uneven at the top, as if it had been broken when he was young and not properly realigned. This man hadn’t been born rich—that much was for sure. He was nothing like the wealthy playboys Mimi had gone through like tissue paper since her divorce. This man was a fighter. A thug, even. And for some reason, as he looked down at her, he made Laney feel dizzy—as if the world had just moved beneath her sensible shoes.

His gaze sharpened. “So what was the errand, little mouse,” he repeated, “so important you were willing to die for it?”

“Her coat—” That reminded her. Looking around for it, she gave an anguished cry.

The expensive white fur was now soaked in a muddy puddle on the street, ripped to shreds where one of his tires had gone through it.

Laney took a deep breath.

“I’m so fired,” she whispered. Her head was starting to clang with headache as she knelt and picked it up. “She told me to get it cleaned before the ball tonight. Now it’s ruined.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it is,” she said miserably. “First I spilled coffee on it. Then I wasn’t paying attention where I was walking. I was too busy looking at my phone to get directions to a cleaner... My phone!”

Looking around wildly, she saw it had been crushed beneath the back wheel of his car. Going to it, she lifted its crumpled form into her hands. Tears rose in her eyes as she looked at its shattered face, now crushed into unrecognizable metal.

She wouldn’t let herself cry. She couldn’t.

Then just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, the gray clouds burst above them, and it started to rain.

It was too much. She felt cold raindrops pummeling her messed-up hair and chilled, bruised body. It was the final straw. Against her will, she started to laugh.

Kassius Black looked at her like she was crazy. “What’s so funny?”

“I’ll definitely lose my job for this,” she gasped, hardly able to breathe for laughing.

“And you’re happy about it?”

“No,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Without my job, my family won’t be able to pay rent next month or my dad pay for his medications. It’s not funny at all.”

Kassius’s eyes turned cool. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” she replied, thinking what a strange conversation this was to have with the ninth-richest man in the world. Or was it the tenth?

A car honked, and she jumped. They both turned to look. The crowds of people around them had already started to disperse now it was clear she wasn’t going to bleed out and die on the street. But his car was still holding up traffic. The drivers of the similarly expensive cars lined up behind it were starting to get annoyed.

Kassius’s jaw clenched as he made a rude gesture to them then turned back to her. “If you’re not hurt and don’t want to see a doctor—” he watched her carefully “—then I guess I will be on my way.”

“’Bye,” Laney said, still mourning her broken phone. “Thanks for not killing me.”

Turning away from him, she dropped the fragments of metal in a corner trash can. Slinging the ruined fur over her shoulder, Laney started to walk desolately down the sidewalk in the pouring rain. She’d go back to the Hôtel de Carillon and ask Jacques if he knew a fur cleaner that could perform magic. Oh, who was she kidding? Magic? He’d need to turn back time.

She felt someone grab her arm. Looking up in surprise, she saw Kassius, his handsome face grim. He said through gritted teeth, “All right, how much do you want?”

“How much of what?”

“Just get in my car.”

“I don’t need a ride—I’m just going back to the Hôtel de Carillon.”

“To do what?”

“Give my boss her fur back and let her yell at me and then fire me.”

“Sounds like fun.” Lifting a dark eyebrow, he ground out, “Look. It’s obvious you threw yourself in front of my car for a reason. I don’t know why you’re not doing the obvious thing and immediately asking for money, but whatever your game is—”

“There’s no game!”

“I can solve your problem. About the coat.”

Laney sucked in her breath. “You know how to get it fixed? In time for the ball tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I would be so grateful!”

His voice was curt. “Get in.”

By this time, the cars behind them weren’t just honking, but the drivers were yelling impolite suggestions.

Kassius held open the passenger door, and she climbed in, still clinging to the ruined, muddy, ripped fur coat. He climbed into the driver’s seat beside her, and without bothering to respond to the furious drivers behind them, he drove off with a low roar of his sleek car’s powerful engine.

She glanced at him as they drove. “Where are we going?”

“It’s not far.”

“My grandma would yell at me if she knew I’d gotten in a car with a stranger,” she said lightly. But part of her was already wondering if she should have refused his offer. The fact that he drove an expensive car didn’t mean he could be trusted—in fact, in her admittedly limited experience, it generally meant the opposite.

“We’re not strangers. You know my name.”

“Mr. Black—”

“Call me Kassius.” He gave her a dark sideways glance. “Though I don’t think Mimi ever introduced us.”

“All right. Kassius.” The name moved deliciously on her tongue. She licked her lips. “I’m Laney. Laney May Henry.”

“American?”

“From New Orleans.”

His sudden look was so sharp and searching that it bewildered her. She wasn’t accustomed to being noticed by men, and especially not a man like him. She felt Kassius Black’s attention all the way to her toes.

Her boss had said the man was inscrutable, that he had ice water in his veins. Why was he bothering to help her?

But she needed his help too badly to ask questions right now. “Thank you for helping me. You’re being very kind.”

“I’m not kind,” he said in a low voice. He looked at her. “But don’t worry. You won’t lose your job.”

Her heart lifted to her throat. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had helped her. Generally she was the one who was responsible for everyone and everything.

“Thank you,” she repeated, her voice cracking slightly as she looked out the window, blinking rapidly.

Monaco was a small principality, only two square kilometers, pressed against the Mediterranean Sea on one side, surrounded by France on the other. But as the country had no income tax, wealthy people from all over the world had flocked to become citizens, so it was said that a third of the population were now millionaires. It was famous for its nineteenth-century grand casino, its elegant society and the Grand Prix held every year on the notoriously winding streets.

“I don’t see how this can possibly be made perfect again,” she said sadly, looking at the ragtag coat in her arms. She looked at him. “Maybe you could come back with me to her suite and explain what happened? If you put in a good word, then the comtesse wouldn’t fire me.”

His voice was cool as he focused on the road. “Mimi and I are business acquaintances, nothing more. What makes you so sure I’d have influence on her?”

“Aren’t you in love with her?” Laney blurted out.

“In love!” His hands clenched on the steering wheel, causing the car to sway slightly on the road. Then he looked at her. “What gave you that idea?”

Laney realized she’d gotten it by eavesdropping, and her cheeks went hot. She didn’t want to be indiscreet or spread rumors about her boss. Embarrassed, she shrugged, looking out at the pouring rain. “Most men seem to fall in love with her. I just assumed...”

“You assumed wrong.” He pulled the car abruptly into a spot on the street and parked. “In fact, I’ve been accused of having no heart.”

“That’s not true.” She smiled at him shyly. “You must have one. Why else would you be helping me?”

He gave her a darkly inscrutable glance. Without answer, he turned off the engine and got out of the car.

Laney’s heart pounded as he swiftly strode around the front of the car. He was very tall, at least a foot taller than her, and probably a hundred pounds heavier—a hundred pounds of pure lean muscle. But in spite of his muscle, he moved with almost feline grace beneath his sleek dark suit. Opening her door, he held out his hand.

She stared at it in consternation, wondering if she dared to put her hand in his when it had caused such a powerful reaction in her before.

“Fur?” He said impatiently.

Oh. Blushing, she handed it out to him. He threw the coat casually over his shoulder. It seemed small compared to him. He reached out his hand again. “You.”

For a moment Laney hesitated. She was afraid to make a fool of herself, and the chance seemed high. When she was nervous, she always blurted out stupid things, and Kassius Black made her very nervous.

She timidly placed her hand in his and let him help her out. The warmth and strength of his larger hand against hers did all kinds of strange things to her insides. Dropping his hand quickly, she looked up at the Beaux Arts–style building with a frown. “This doesn’t look like a dry cleaner’s.”

“It’s not. Follow me.”

She followed him through the doors of a very elegant designer boutique. He handed the old fur to the first salesgirl he saw standing inside. “Here. Get rid of this.”

“Of course, sir,” she replied serenely.

“Get rid of it? What are you doing?” Laney cried. “We can’t throw it away!”

But he was looking at the beautiful, well-dressed salesgirl. “Get us a new coat just like it.”

“What?” said Laney.

“Of course, sir,” the girl repeated calmly, and Laney had the sense that her courteous response would have been the same to the request of any wealthy customer, whether it involved tossing a candy wrapper or disposing of a dead body. “We do have one very similar from the same line. The cost is fifty thousand euros.”

Laney nearly staggered to her knees, but Kassius didn’t blink.

“We’ll take it to go.”

Ten minutes later, he was driving her back to the Hôtel de Carillon with the elegantly wrapped new ermine tucked in the trunk, which was confusingly in the front of the car, not the back. Rich people always did some things a little differently, she thought.

But there were some things they did the same.

“There’s only one reason you’d blow all that money on a coat,” Laney informed him as he drove. “Admit it. You’re wildly in love with the comtesse.”

Kassius glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “I didn’t do it for her.” He gave her a sudden grin. “I did it for you.”

“Me?”

“You know who I am and the resources I have. And yet you haven’t tried to take advantage of the fact that I hit you with my car. You should be claiming whiplash, spinal injury, threatening to sue. That’s what I assumed you were after when you flung yourself in front of my car.”

“I didn’t fling myself anywhere,” she protested.

His dark eyes seemed to trace over her petite, curvaceous body, as if imagining her without her button-up white shirt and khakis. As she blushed, his eyes met hers coolly. “You could be lawyered up, demanding millions.”

Millions? That thought hadn’t even occurred to Laney. That kind of fortune could have completely changed her life—and more importantly, her family’s.

But...

“That wouldn’t be right,” she said slowly. “I mean, it wasn’t your fault I fell into the street. You did everything you could not to hit me. Your quick reflexes saved my life.”

“So if I offered you a million euros right now to sign some kind of legal release attesting to that, you would sign it?”

“No,” she said, sadly, cursing her own morals.

His cruelly sensual mouth curved up cynically. “I see—”

“I would sign it for free.”

He looked startled. “What?”

“My grandma raised me to tell the truth and not take advantage. Just because you’re rich doesn’t make me a thief.”

Kassius gave a low laugh as he took a tight left turn. “Your grandmother sounds like a remarkable woman.”

“She is.” She smiled. “A true Southern lady.”

Kassius stared at her for a moment, and his dark eyes glimmered in the fading gray twilight.

His car pulled up in front of the grand entrance of the Hôtel de Carillon. But as he turned off the car engine, she saw something in his face that twisted her heart.

Without thinking, she timidly touched his shoulder. She immediately regretted it as she felt the hard muscle beneath his sleek black jacket. Her hand fell away, but she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Why do you look like that?”

His dark eyes met hers. “Like what?”

She wondered if he’d felt the same sizzle of energy she had when they touched. No. Of course not, that was ridiculous. He was interested only in her employer, who was beautiful, aristocratic and glamorous— everything that she, Laney, was not.

She took a deep breath. “You look...sad.”

Kassius stared at her for a long moment. Then he gave her an abrupt, hard smile. “Billionaires don’t get sad. We get even.” He turned away. “Come on. I’ll save you from Mimi.”