Kidnapped by the Billionaire (43 page)

“You destroyed my world,” she said fiercely. “But I'm glad you did. Because my world was a fucking lie. My whole life was a fucking lie! And yes, that hurts, but it wasn't you who lied to me, who pretended to be something they weren't. It wasn't you who faked their own death and let me believe it. You never lied to me, Elijah. You always told me the truth. And sometimes the truth hurts but I'd take that any day over a lie.” Her breathing was fast and hard, and she didn't look away. Holding his gaze so he could see that she was telling the truth too. “I've been wearing a blindfold all this time and you ripped it away. You made me see myself. You made me see that I'm stronger than I ever thought possible.” She wanted to touch him, but she didn't. She had to lay her heart out for him and see if he would bite. “I'm flawed, Elijah. There's something bad in me, something hungry. And I wanted my brother to live, despite knowing what he's done, because that bad thing in me doesn't want to be alone. Because he's all I have. And I was so stupid not to listen to you when you told me that I had you. So fucking stupid.” She let the emotion thicken in her voice, didn't hold it back. “I chose the wrong person. I should have chosen you. So that's the truth of why I'm here. I want to choose again. I want to choose you.”

His face was set, iron in every line. He was a man constructed entirely from hard materials, iron and granite and jet. A man of stone and metal. “Why?” A metallic, cold sound.

Violet didn't blink. Not once. “Because I'm in love you, that's why.”

*   *   *

No one had said that to him for a very long time. Not since Marie, the night before she'd disappeared, whispered with tenderness in his ear after they'd made love and before she'd gone to sleep. And he'd said it back, carelessly, holding her in the night. Never dreaming that would be the last time he'd do any of those things. Make love. Hold a woman. Tell a woman he loved her.

Now another woman was saying those words, looking up at him, turquoise eyes vivid in her small, pale face. Telling him she needed him. Telling him she loved him.

And he could feel that somehow those words were changing him, reaching inside him and rearranging him, creating a different kind of landscape from anything that had gone before.

He didn't know what to do or how to respond. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she couldn't love him because he wasn't any longer the kind of man a woman fell in love with. But he couldn't seem to get the words out. He didn't have the language, not anymore.

She loved him. How did that work? After everything he'd done? After all the pain he'd put her through. He didn't understand.

But you want it.

No, he didn't.

Yes, you do.

She didn't touch him, only looked at him, not pushing. Waiting. The next move was his and he knew it.

He'd left Woolf's office and spent the afternoon visiting various contacts, letting them know, some subtly and others not so subtly, that he was now in charge. Letting them know who the big boss now was. Getting them to spread the word.

It would take time and no doubt there would come some protests, but he'd started the process of taking over Fitzgerald's empire. Soon it would be his. And once it was, he could destroy it.

He'd taken what satisfaction he could from that as he'd come back to his apartment, as he'd walked up the steps and seen the small shape of a woman curled up beside his front door. And for the first time in years he'd been genuinely shocked.

And then he'd gotten angry. So fucking angry.

How dare she come back here. How dare she wait for him. After he'd come to terms with the fact that he would never see her again, how dare she come here and screw everything up.

He should have left her there or put her in a taxi and sent her away. But he'd found himself bending to pick her up, everything in him wanting to hold her again, feel her warm body next to his for the last time. She'd been so cold he couldn't leave her there.

A mistake. Because now she was here, telling him what he'd done for her. Telling him she loved him. Making him want everything she said to be true so badly he could barely breathe.

A tear slid slowly from the corner of her eye, down over the sweet, soft curve of her cheek. “Say something,” she said in a hoarse voice. “Don't keep me in suspense, Eli. If you want me to go, I'll go, but please … just say something.”

But it had been too long since he'd felt anything at all for him to be able to talk about it, and he'd lost the hang of it anyway.

He didn't know what to say but his heart knew what it wanted.

Elijah lifted his hands and took her face between them. And covered her mouth with his own.

He could feel her gasp, taste it on his tongue, along with the flavor that was all Violet. Sweetness like honey with a faint tart edge. It made him dizzy and at the same time soothed something deep in his soul.

He kissed her deeper, harder, letting his hands stroke down the side of her neck, to her shoulders. Then further down over the elegant bow of her spine to the curves of her ass, sliding his palms over her and easing her against him.

She was shaking, her hands pushing against his chest.

He should say something. He really needed to.

He let his mouth trace the line of her jaw, kissing down her neck to the soft hollow of her throat. And he lifted his lips a fraction, inhaling her soft, musky feminine scent. “You're my peace, princess.” His voice was raw and ragged, and he should probably have said more than that, but he couldn't. Those were the only words left to him. “You're my peace.”

She went still in his arms. “Oh, Eli…” His name on a long breath.

And the tension went out of him suddenly, as if a weight that had been pulling him down had been cut. And he put his arms tightly around her, holding her as a weird feeling of lightness swept through him. It was strange, alien, and he had to turn his face into her throat, opening his mouth and nipping at her, desperate for something to ground him.

Violet shuddered as his teeth closed on the delicate tendons of her neck, and he felt her palms press flat to his chest.

Hunger filled him at the pressure of her hands and the taste of her skin on his tongue. A biting, clawing need that he accepted without question. And there were more words he wanted to say after all.

“You're right, I do need you,” he whispered, like a vow. “And that's why I'm never letting you go. Never ever.”

Then he picked her up in his arms and carried her through the doorway into the hall and down to his bedroom. Setting her onto the bed he'd once shared with the woman he'd loved most in the world.

She was gone now, nothing was going to bring her back. And he'd thought that once Jericho was dead he'd finally be able to let her go. But it wasn't revenge that'd helped him do that.

It was Violet.

Carefully he took off her clothes, a slow unveiling of her perfect golden skin and soft curves, and he wanted to let her do the same to him, but by then he was too desperate. Instead he tore off his own clothes and pushed her back onto the bed, pausing only to find the condom box he'd stashed in the nightstand and grabbing one for protection. Then he was easing into her, sheathing himself in her tight, wet heat, feeling her legs close around his waist and her arms around his neck. Surrounding him.

And he closed his eyes, resting for a moment.

Because he was home.

 

EPILOGUE

Elijah got the call just as Violet arrived back at the apartment. She'd been out helping the latest batch of women rescued from an underground brothel down in the south, near New Orleans. Another link in Fitzgerald's filthy chain broken.

Turned out Violet was good with the victims, gaining their trust and helping them adjust to freedom again. But then, as he'd found out in the past month or so, she was good at a lot of different things. Helping take down bad guys was just one of her skills.

She raised a brow at him as Zac Rutherford's voice spoke down the other end of the line. Only a few, cryptic words.

“We're going to send someone to get him, Hunt. A contact of mine who's managed to infiltrate his organization.”

Elijah smiled at her then turned away, so she wouldn't see the darkness he knew had entered into his eyes. Because he understood exactly who Rutherford was talking about. “I didn't agree to this,” he said curtly.

“Your agreement was not required. This is a courtesy call only.”

“And if I want to stop you?”

“You're welcome to try, but I don't advise it.”

The line abruptly went dead as Rutherford cut the call.

Elijah cursed silently.

So, they were going to move against Jericho. He'd been kind of expecting it for weeks, but he hadn't been sure when it was going to happen or how they were going to do it. And a large part of him had been debating whether or not he'd actually try to stop them.

Weird that he should want to save the man he'd been so desperate to kill.

But then that's what love does to a man, isn't it?

He stared at the blank screen of his phone for a moment. Love. Holy Christ.

“Hey.” Warm arms slid around his waist, soft, feminine heat at his back. “Who was that?”

He turned, his heart beating faster, his cock ready and willing as it always was when Violet was around.

The smile turning her beautiful mouth started to fade, her brow creasing. “Something's up, isn't it?”

“Yeah, something's up.” He couldn't tell her about the Nine Circles and their plans for her brother, not yet. But he could tell her something else. Something that had been building for the past month that he hadn't the words for. At least not until now.

He slid his hands into the short strands of her golden hair, holding her there, keeping her still. “There's something I forgot to tell you.”

She blinked. “What? If you forgot to tell me we're out of coffee, I may be forced to kill you.”

“No.” He smiled. It still felt strange to do that. “I forgot to tell you I love you.”

Her mouth opened, the color deepening in her cheeks, something glittering in her eyes. A diamond. A tear. And maybe she was going to say something of great importance, but he didn't let her.

He kissed her instead.

Love. It didn't destroy. It saved. It had saved them both.

And now it was going to save her brother.

 

Read on for an excerpt from the next book by
JACKIE ASHENDEN

IN BED WITH THE BILLIONAIRE

Coming soon from St. Martin's Paperbacks

 

 

The look on his face hadn't changed, the lazy smile still curving his mouth, his eyes still cold. Strange when he felt so hot and when he smelled … good.

What the fuck are you thinking? He's evil. He was the one responsible for taking Thalia. And you're going to kill him.

“There won't be any deals,” he said in that same purring voice. “I take what I want when I want it. And the only reason I haven't taken you right now is that I don't want you.”

Temple took a small, silent breath. She hated being restrained, hated being helpless, and his grip was very, very strong. It wasn't anything she couldn't break, though to do so now would be a mistake and would only cause him to be even more suspicious of her.

She eased the tension from her arms, looking up into his face. And sure enough, she couldn't see any of what she'd come to recognize as lust there, not even a flicker. She made a small movement with her hips, and yeah, despite the fact that she was nearly naked, there was no tell-tale hardness pressing against her there either.

Fuck.

His smile widened as if he'd read her mind. “Looking for something?”

Okay, so this was unusual. She wasn't vain, but again, men were simple. If a nearly naked chick got in their laps, they were usually pretty interested. But this man? Nothing. Why not? Did crime lords lose the ability to get it up after a certain length of time?

Temple raised an eyebrow. “Did you forget your little blue pill?”

He laughed, a soft, deeply sexy sound that had her almost shivering. “Or maybe you just don't have what it takes to be in my bed.”

She let her lashes fall. “Hey, I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“I'm sure you can.” His grip tightened on her wrists and he lifted his free hand to a lock of her hair, twisting it absently around his fingers, that scalpel-sharp gaze running over her. Dissecting her. “But if you don't know what I want, you can't be anything at all.”

“Give me a hint and I can try.”

His gaze narrowed. “You don't like this. You don't like me holding you like this.”

She had to fight not to show her shock. She'd perfected the art of hiding her feelings, of never letting anyone see what she didn't want them to see. And she couldn't imagine how this man had managed to spot what she herself was only barely aware of. How the hell had he managed that? She was sure she hadn't let anything slip.

Discomfort built inside her, but she ignored it, trying to think about how to respond instead. If he didn't want her, she had to figure out how to make him, because currently the only thing holding him here was the fact that she wasn't acting like all the rest.

She needed him to want her and badly enough to keep her, at least for a little while. Until she'd gotten the information she needed from him. Then she'd kill him as she'd promised Zac Rutherford and his friends she would. Kill him and collect the money she was owed.

Jericho was always going to be her last contract. And her most satisfying.

Temple looked at him from underneath her lashes. “I wouldn't have thought it would matter to you what I like.”

He stared at her for a second, bright and sharp as a blade. “It doesn't,” he said. Then he smiled again, like a tiger, lazy and hungry. And the finger in her hair pulled suddenly tight, a small shock of pain flashing over her scalp.