The Dare Collection April 2019. Nicola Marsh

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The Dare Collection April 2019 - Nicola Marsh


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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


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