Kitabı oku: «The Dare Collection April 2019», sayfa 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ajax
I ABSENTED MYSELF from the house over the next couple of days, using the time to have meetings with people who should have known better than to fuck with me. Meetings that involved gentle reminders of who was boss...and that wasn’t William White.
The reminders weren’t of the violent kind—it wasn’t necessary when threatening people’s money worked just as well—but that didn’t mean I was kind. I’d ruin every last son of a bitch in this town if they even so much as kept White’s name in their contact list, and they knew it.
I also tried not to think about Imogen, an impossible task seemingly.
My brain kept returning to the look on her face when I’d handed her the phone that morning. She’d stared at it like I’d handed her a snake, making every one of my protective instincts sit up and take notice.
She’d told me her father hadn’t hurt her physically, yet she really didn’t want to talk to him. In fact, the only time I’d seen her scared was when I’d given her that phone.
Why? What had he done to her?
Knowing what the story was between her and White didn’t affect my overall goal and technically it could be called a distraction. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what a delicate thing she’d seemed that morning either, with the light falling on her hair, turning her from white and pale into sun-drenched gold. She was fragile and vulnerable, a woman in need of protection.
Yet that’s not all she was. There had been a demanding element to her, flashes of a strong, stubborn will, plus an honesty I hadn’t experienced in a long time. The world I moved in—even now it was totally legit—was full of bluffs and façades and gambles and trade-offs. Games. That’s what doing business was all about.
But Imogen didn’t appear to have a façade at all. She didn’t strike me as a game-player either. There was no artifice to her, no guile. She wanted me and she’d been totally straight up about that.
Hot.
It was probably a good thing I’d stayed out of the house. God knew my dick could sure as hell use some time out.
Two days later I stepped out of the building where I’d had my last meeting, heading to the featureless black sedan where Andy, my assistant, was waiting for me.
Getting into the car, I settled myself then slammed the door shut behind me.
As Andy pulled into the traffic, my thoughts drifted back to my little captive. I hadn’t seen her for the past couple of days, though my housekeeper had been giving me daily updates, which consisted of Imogen roaming around my house being bored, apparently.
Too bad. Then again, Imogen kept asking my housekeeper questions which annoyed Mrs Jacobs because I’d forbidden her to answer them.
I probably needed to give Imogen a few more things to do.
You could think of a couple of things.
I scowled at the traffic. Yeah, there were a lot of things I could think of for her to do. Particularly things involving a bed.
Sadly, that wasn’t happening. I had to keep my eye on the big picture, that’s what I’d always been about. I couldn’t get obsessed with the details and, right now, Imogen White was merely a detail.
Like your brothers were details?
Shit, my brothers had never been details. No, I hadn’t been able to stop what had happened to them, not when I’d had to keep up the façade of the loyal first son to Dad, but it had been vital that Dad thought I was on his side. That way he wouldn’t see me working in the background to take him and his filthy empire down.
Yes, Leon and Xander had got caught in the crossfire, but they were better now. They had the lives they’d always wanted and all because Dad was no longer in the picture.
It had all been worth it in the end.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I hauled it out and looked down at the screen. Yet another call from White. Should I answer it this time or leave the prick to stew a little longer?
I hit the answer button but didn’t say anything.
‘King?’ White’s voice vibrated with fury. ‘You’d better be answering this time, you piece of—’
‘Are you ready to give me what I want?’ I interrupted. ‘Or am I going to have to disconnect yet again?’
There was a silence, White evidently trying to get himself under control. ‘I’ll call the police. Tell them you have my daughter.’
‘No, you won’t. You can’t afford to have the police getting into your business and we both know it.’
He muttered a curse. ‘I’m not leaving this city. It’s impossible.’
‘Then I’ll make sure your pure Princess isn’t so pure any more.’
‘You can’t. She won’t let you touch her.’
I laughed. ‘Oh, you’d be surprised. She seems to quite like the idea.’
‘If you’ve even so much as—’
‘Relax, I haven’t done anything to her.’ Apart from a kiss, but that didn’t count. ‘Her virginity is quite safe.’
‘I’ve only got your word for that.’
I watched the city moving past my window. ‘And my word is all you’ll get.’
‘The word of a King.’ He spat the words down the phone, my name dripping with contempt.
‘You respected my father’s,’ I said coldly. ‘You’ll respect mine.’
‘What makes you think I care enough about her virginity to pack up my life and go somewhere else anyway?’
‘Because you need it. Once she’s mine, she’ll be useless to you. And you don’t have anything else of value to get people on your side, do you?’
‘You have no idea—’
‘I’ve done my research, White. Believe me. You don’t have the finance, not these days. All you have is your daughter.’ I leaned back against the seat. ‘Except you don’t even have her now, do you? I could make her mine, get a couple of kids on her. What do you say to having a couple of King grandchildren, hmm?’
‘Fuck you.’ His voice was bitter. ‘I’ll leave and when you free her I’ll take her somewhere else. A new city. Melbourne, maybe.’
‘Fine. I don’t care where you go.’ And I didn’t. There was only one thing that mattered to me. ‘Just stay the fuck away from what’s mine.’
There was silence from the other end of the phone, though I could feel his fury.
‘I want proof of life,’ he said eventually. ‘In person.’
Something inside me tightened. ‘A meeting?’
‘Yes. Alone.’
‘No.’ I didn’t even need to think about it. ‘There will be no meeting.’
‘Listen. You let me talk to her for five minutes, just so I know she’s okay and unhurt. And if she’s fine I’ll leave Sydney. I’ll even take a few people with me so they’re out of your hair.’
Interesting. He was clearly desperate to have her back if he was prepared to negotiate. And I’d certainly be happy with fewer troublemakers to worry about. ‘That could work,’ I allowed.
‘Once I’ve gone, you can let her go and we’ll go elsewhere. But only on condition that wherever it is I go, you stay out of it.’
My smile widened. ‘Like you can tell me what to do. I dictate the terms here, White. Not you. But I’m feeling magnanimous. I’m sure a five-minute meeting with your daughter can be arranged.’
‘Good. Tonight. Bring her to—’
‘As I was saying. I dictate the terms. Which means I’ll be in touch.’ I didn’t wait for him to launch into yet another round of protests, I simply disconnected the call then put my phone back in my pocket.
Good. This was proceeding much more smoothly than I’d planned. If all he wanted was a meeting with his daughter, then that was easy enough to arrange. Of course, he might want to meet with Imogen in order to steal her back, but I’d make sure that didn’t happen.
Will Imogen agree, though?
I thought back to the way she’d frozen up when I’d tried to hand her the phone and the fear in her face...
Yeah, her agreement might be a problem.
Perhaps it was time I asked her what the deal with her father was. Directly.
I finished up the last of my meetings then headed back to the King mansion in Vaucluse, darkness beginning to fall.
A kick of excitement hit me as the car approached the gates, which was strange since I’d never particularly enjoyed coming home before. I’d had the place renovated to the highest standards, but it was little more than a hotel room. Too many shit memories basically.
But not tonight. Tonight there was someone waiting for me.
Except when I got inside I couldn’t find her.
She wasn’t in the kitchen I almost never used, with all its stainless steel and white tiles. Or in the cavernous lounge with the windows that faced the ocean and the black leather sectional sofas. She wasn’t in any of the bedrooms on the first floor, or in the gardens outside. Or by the pool on the terrace that looked out over the sea. Or in the massive bathroom with the bath big enough to be a hot tub all on its own.
Mrs Jacobs had gone home so I snapped questions at my security staff, but they swore she hadn’t left the building.
Which meant only one thing.
She was upstairs. Where I’d told her she wasn’t allowed to go.
Bad little one. That was where my bedroom and office were, my private space.
I stormed up the stairs, taking them two at a time but soundlessly. Because if she was up there after I’d explicitly told her not to, then she was up there for a reason. And if that reason was something I didn’t want her to fucking do, then I wanted to catch her in the act.
My office was empty, same with the other couple of rooms, which left only my bedroom.
Silently I stepped inside.
One wall was glass, as was most of the side of the house that faced the ocean, and the light shining through it showed me nothing but an empty room, except for my bed that faced the huge windows.
I waited, barely breathing, allowing myself to become aware of the space around me, the breath of air on my skin, any change in temperature, the slightest of sounds. It was a trick I’d learned from Dad’s old Head of Security and it had helped me on more than one occasion.
I moved through the room slowly, expanding my awareness outwards, listening.
Nothing.
I stopped by the big walk-in closet. The door was half open, exactly the way I’d left it this morning.
But there was the faintest of scents in the air.
Roses.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Imogen
I LEANED IN to the suit that hung from the rail in front of me and sniffed, the warm scent of sandalwood and cedar filling my senses.
It was such a delicious smell. I wanted to bury my nose in the lapels of Ajax’s jacket and spend the rest of the evening breathing it in.
Okay, so it was a little weird, me being in his closet and sniffing his clothing, and I did feel bad about poking around in his private space.
It was only that after two days of being alone with nothing to do I was going stir-crazy.
After he’d left me that morning, I’d decided that the only way to figure out how to get him on board with the whole losing my virginity thing was to explore as much of his house as I could, see what I could discover about him. And then perhaps use it to my advantage.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to discover. He had an industrial, minimalist aesthetic which seemed to involve no clutter anywhere and absolutely nothing personal, including no knick-knacks or family photographs.
So I’d asked what I could of his housekeeper, Mrs Jacobs, but she wouldn’t give me any answers, getting annoyed when I attempted to press the issue.
So I’d tried to wait him out.
I swam in the pool. I walked around the gardens. I watched TV and a few movies. I peered through his library and the bookshelves full of books.
But I couldn’t settle. Every passing hour was another hour of my freedom gone. Another hour closer to going back to my father and a life of no choices about anything.
It put me in a foul mood.
This wasn’t just about sex and my stupid hymen. Or even revenge against my dad. This was about life. My life. And what was missing from it. Choice. That was what was missing.
And I wanted the very first choice that I made to be about Ajax. Learning more of his secrets. Discovering more of his touch, more of him. And the longer he stayed away, the hungrier for him I became.
That’s why I was up here on the forbidden second level of his house. Because my curiosity had morphed into frustration and I hadn’t been able to contain it. I couldn’t stop obsessing about what was up there, thinking that if he’d told me to stay away, it must mean that there was something he didn’t want me to see.
So on the third day I’d crept up the stairs.
The second level had been quiet, with the same kind of uncluttered, minimalist vibe that the downstairs had.
There was an office and a bedroom that both faced the ocean and made the most of the awesome view.
His office was a plain white room with a polished wooden floor and a huge slab of black wood that served as a desk, with a sleek silver computer on it. Bookshelves lined two walls, all stacked with business texts and filing boxes. But, unlike downstairs, there was a piece of art on the wall above his desk: a painting of a yacht on the ocean, sailing towards the horizon. The picture was simple and clean and beautifully done. I could almost smell the salt coming from it, feel the wind in my hair.
Why had he hung this picture here? What was it that he liked about it?
I was tempted to look at his books or have a nosey at his computer, but I did have a few scruples and decided not to in the end, moving into his bedroom instead.
That was a nice space, the only furniture a massive bed that faced the wall of glass and a dresser. There were two photos on it, who I assumed were his brothers, Leon and Xander.
There wasn’t much else in the bedroom but, since the door to the closet was open, I put my head in and had a quick look inside. That’s when his scent hit me and that’s when I stepped inside, moving to where one of his suits hung, wanting more of it and the warm feeling it gave me.
Yes, I was an idiot and sniffing his clothes was ridiculous. But that scent reminded me of how he’d made me feel the night he’d kidnapped me. Safe. Peaceful. Yet excited too.
You should probably leave before he catches you here.
I straightened reluctantly. I really didn’t want him to catch me on the second level, especially not in his closet with my nose in his suit.
Abruptly, fingers closed around my upper arm.
I froze, a burst of panic exploding through me.
The fingers tightened in an irresistible grip and I found myself being pulled gently but firmly out of the closet then pushed with the same irresistible gentleness against the closet door.
An expanse of white cotton was in front of me, a T-shirt pulled tight over a broad, muscled chest.
Oh, hell.
I went from panic to excitement in seconds as it slowly penetrated whose fingers were wrapped around my upper arm. And the scent that I’d been inhaling only moments before was now coming direct from the source.
‘Little one,’ Ajax rumbled. ‘What the fuck are you doing in my closet?’
Embarrassment set fire to my cheeks and I wanted to sink straight through the floor.
Going through his things had turned out to be a really stupid idea.
‘I’m sorry.’ I stared at his chest because I couldn’t bear to look up at him. ‘I was just...uh...bored.’
‘Bored,’ he echoed. ‘So bored that you had to come upstairs, where I explicitly told you not to go, and start looking around my fucking closet?’
He sounded pissed and he had every right to be. Being found intruding on his privacy didn’t exactly reflect well on me.
‘I... I’m sorry,’ I repeated. ‘I know I shouldn’t have. But there wasn’t anything else to do. I swam in the pool and watched all the movies. And I don’t have a computer, and I—’
‘Look at me when you’re speaking to me.’
I didn’t want to, but staring at his chest was stupid so I gritted my teeth and looked up.
His electric-blue gaze slammed into mine and all the air vanished from my lungs, sending my heartbeat tumbling over itself.
In the two days he’d been away, I’d told myself that surely I’d overstated his attractiveness; that he couldn’t possibly have been as gorgeous and compelling as I’d made him in my head.
But I was wrong. If anything, I’d understated it.
He stood very close, looking down at me, and his fingers on my skin were warm, sensitising all the places that he wasn’t touching.
