Janette Kenny – Pirate Tycoon, Forbidden Baby (страница 3)

André was a man who took what he wanted, when he wanted. He’d proved that when he’d seduced her on Petit St. Marc. Proved it again when he’d swum in from the Caribbean like a great white shark and gobbled up control of the Chateau.

Yet she’d glimpsed another side of him on the island—a tenderness that had called to her heart, and a vulnerability she hadn’t understood.

Yes, for now she’d return to the island with him. Perhaps there she’d find the right time to tell him about their child. Perhaps there she’d be able to reason with him about the Chateau—convince him she’d been robbed of her birthright. Perhaps in time they’d be able to start over.

André Gauthier stared at the deceptive woman walking down the corridor before him, her rounded hips rocking in an invitation that any red-blooded man would accept. No wonder Bellamy had given her forty-nine percent of Chateau Mystique.

Kira Montgomery was sex personified. She had certainly beguiled him with the oldest trick in the book.

He’d prided himself on his cool control under duress, nurtured it until it was second nature. It had never let him down—until Kira had invaded his island three months ago.

André hadn’t been surprised when Bellamy had sent a female employee to Petit St. Marc to charm him after his last offer to buy the Chateau had been turned down. The excuse that she’d come for a prearranged meeting had been a lie.

The old man had banked on Kira’s charms and André’s moment of grief to alter his ultimate goal. Or so André had believed.

It had worked. For that one night. Kira had pleaded her case with passion, and André had found himself caught up in the most stimulating debate of his life.

He hadn’t realized the extend of her deceit until much later. The elder Bellamy hadn’t sent her—his son had. Peter. His most fierce rival. Peter—the man he now suspected had set in motion events that had brought about the accident that had killed Edouard’s mistress and landed Edouard in a hospital.

Kira was not only Peter’s mistress, she was his accomplice as well. Oui, she was the brains of the maneuver that had ultimately eliminated the old man—that had earned her control of Chateau Mystique.

But her treachery had robbed André of something far more valuable than property. She’d had a hand in destroying the last of his family.

Kira had deceived him in the worst possible way.

She deserved no less in return.

Retribution coursed through his blood like a molten river.

Peter Bellamy would chaff, knowing that André held Kira on Petit St. Marc. She in turn wouldn’t be able to contact her accomplice—her lover.

She’d be at his mercy when he launched the final takeover of Bellamy Enterprises.

His revenge wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d bested Bellamy’s conniving son at his own game—until he’d made Kira regret that she’d set out to destroy him.

André joined her in the lift and they rode up in silence to the fifth floor. He wondered if she’d entertained Peter Bellamy there while the old man had dominated his mistress in the penthouse.

The dark thought stayed with him as he followed Kira to a fifth-floor door. She slid a card key in the slot and stepped into a small but cozy suite. He noted the room bore quaint personal touches, typical of an English parlor, and carried her light floral fragrance. It seemed too benign. Too cozy.

“Pack light,” he said, annoyed by the thought of her entertaining Peter Bellamy here.

Her shoulders stiffened—proof the order had grated. Good. He wanted to keep her off balance, keep her wondering what he planned to do to her.

“Do you plan to keep me locked in a room?” she asked.

“If I must.”

The color leached from her face, only to return in a rosy flush that hinted of righteous anger. He ground his teeth, annoyed she could project such a quality.

“This is wrong of you to force me to leave here,” she said.

How dared she accuse him of wrongdoing? “You should have thought of that before you agreed to do Bellamy’s bidding.”

She stared at him, her expression guarded. “As I’ve said all along, I was told you’d agreed to meet me on your island to discuss the Chateau.”

“Save your lies,” he said. “I have proof of your part in his scheme.”

Her lovely mouth fell open, as if she was shocked by his claim. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re referring to.”

His smile was as tight as the tension bouncing off the jade brocade walls. “It amazes me that people shred the paper trail but forget the electronic one.”

“There is none,” she said.

“Don’t be too sure.”

“But I am certain.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

She flushed, but instead of continuing her defense she looked away from him. Guilt? It must be.

André smiled. He’d caught her. Her game was over, and his was just beginning.

“Enough wasting time,” he said, eager to leave this place that pulsed with bad memories.

She moved into her bedroom like someone walking to the guillotine. Soundlessly she rolled a case from the closet. The damned thing was half as tall as she.

When he realized her intent, he took it from her and hefted it onto the bed. “Take only the essentials.”

“I’ll pack what I wish to,” she said, her amber eyes too bright with moisture.

Her tears had no effect on him. He’d learned long ago from his mother and sister that women cried over everything and nothing just to get their way. He certainly wouldn’t allow Bellamy’s mistress to beguile him again.

His mobile phone chirped and he immediately answered it. The tone signaled it came from his guard. “What?”

“Peter Bellamy just arrived.”

André cut a sharp glance to Kira, who seemed preoccupied packing her bag. She’d not been out of his sight, so either Bellamy was making a surprise visit to the Chateau to see his lover, or someone on Kira’s staff had phoned him.

“Watch him.” André slipped his mobile in his pocket. “How much longer are you going to dawdle over what to take?”

“I only need a few more things, and my files.” She moved to a desk and secured a laptop. “Everything is here so I can keep abreast of the hotel.”

“You cannot mean to continue working?”

“I’m not one to sit around and while away my time.” She flicked him a defiant glare and slipped the laptop in a carryon. “And I don’t require your permission.”

“Do not be too sure of that.”

André had the satisfaction of watching her face drain of color before his mobile chirped again. He answered it curtly.

“Paparazzi just arrived,” his guard said. “They’re swarming around Peter Bellamy.”

Damn. The last thing André wanted to do was engage in another public confrontation with Kira and the media at the start of his takeover.

He met her questioning gaze. “We need to leave without the gossipmongers seeing us. Unless you prefer a repeat of our last encounter?”

She flushed crimson and shook her head. He feared she’d balk—that she’d court the media’s attention again. “The service entrance is our best choice.”

He repeated that to his guard. “Meet us in five minutes.”

“But I’m not ready yet,” she said.

He swore and checked his watch. “You have three minutes. Then we leave, no matter your state of dress.” He gaze slid over her body, openly appreciating her curves. “Or undress.”

She stiffened, as if ready to argue.

He fed on his annoyance and tapped a finger on his watch. “You’re down to two minutes and forty-five seconds.”

Mumbling an oath, she grabbed lacy undergarments from a drawer and ran to the walk-in closet. He made to follow.

“Don’t you dare come closer,” she said, making him wonder if she could read minds.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He strode to her suitcase, zipped it shut and heaved it from the bed.

With five seconds to spare, she stepped from the dressing room wearing a floral skirt that hugged her firm bottom and thighs and stopped above her knees to accentuate the curve of her calves and dainty ankles. A fashionable summer sweater in a clear turquoise molded the full bosom he knew filled his hands. She stepped into sling heels that were sexy as hell, and tossed a smaller bag into her carryon.