The Dare Collection April 2019. Nicola Marsh
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‘I’m sorry.’ I shoved away my disappointment, trying to regain my dignity. ‘You don’t want to sleep with me and that’s fine. I respect that.’
But something in my tone must have given me away because the muscle in the side of his jaw leapt again. ‘You’re a sexy woman, Imogen. And it’s not about your lack of attractiveness, understand? But nothing gets in the way of me achieving a goal, and that includes any personal distractions.’
I didn’t take offence at being lumped under the heading of ‘personal distractions’. I was too curious.
‘The goal being to get Dad out of the city?’ I asked. ‘Why?’
‘Why do you think? Your father is trying to set himself up as a pretender to Dad’s empty throne and that’s not happening. Not while I can still fucking breathe.’
A whisper of cold swept through me. I knew who my father was. I knew that the money we had didn’t come from him working hard. I understood that my mother’s death had left a hole inside him that he’d been struggling to fill. I’d once wanted to be the one who helped him fill that hole, but that had been before he’d made it clear that I could never be that for him.
He didn’t want the child his wife had died giving birth to.
He preferred money. He preferred power.
Of course he’d want to be the new Augustus King.
At that moment, Ajax’s phone started buzzing.
He pulled it from his pocket and checked the screen then he hit the answer button and raised it to his ear. ‘King.’
Silence fell as whoever was on the other end of the call talked.
Ajax simply stared at me. ‘Listen,’ he said eventually, his voice ice-cold. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen. The only way you’ll get your daughter back is if you get the fuck out of Sydney and stay out. And if you don’t? Then I’ll take her precious virginity and make her mine.’
Another silence fell, Ajax’s gaze burning.
Was it weird to find the way he’d said that hot? Not that I cared if it was weird or not. It was hot. Especially the way he’d said ‘make her mine’.
Calm down. You’ve known him approximately twelve hours or less.
So? It wasn’t like I was going to fall in love with him or anything. This was all about attraction.
‘Yes,’ Ajax went on. ‘She’s alive.’ He held out his phone towards me. ‘Say something to your father, Imogen.’
I looked at the phone and everything I’d been thinking vanished from my head as a wave of dread swept through me.
I didn’t want to talk to Dad. He’d be disgusted with me for allowing myself to be taken. And it would be my fault. Everything was my fault.
Why do you still care what he thinks?
I didn’t know. But that didn’t change the fact that I cared.
Ajax’s blue gaze narrowed then, as abruptly as he’d pointed the phone at me, he lifted it back to his ear. ‘She’ll speak to you later. Remember what I said.’ Then he disconnected the call without another word.
I cleared my throat, feeling like an idiot, but Ajax spoke before I could say anything. ‘Take a shower if you like—I’ve asked my housekeeper to leave you some clothes. There’s breakfast on the terrace for you when you’re done. You’re allowed to go anywhere in the house including outside, but the top floor is off limits.’ He paused, giving me a look that pinned me where I stood. ‘I’m going to be out the rest of the day, but don’t worry. You’re safe here. Understand?’
‘Yes,’ I croaked. ‘But where are you—?’
‘Later,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk more later.’
And, before I could ask him any more questions, he turned and walked out.
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