The Tycoon's Blackmailed Mistress. Maxine Sullivan
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with all the arrogance of someone rich enough to get anything he wanted. “The broken glass?” he reminded her.
She raised one slim shoulder. “A picture frame fell off the wall.”
His eyes sharpened with a concern that was at odds with the forbidding set of his jaw. “Are you hurt?”
For a moment she was tempted to lie. “A small cut, that’s all.” Nonchalantly she lifted her finger to show him, but when she saw how much blood covered the tissue, she gasped.
He swore. “Danielle, that is no small cut,” he muttered, reaching for her hand, his touch scorching her. She tried to pull back…tried not to welcome the feel of his skin against hers…but he held firm.
To counteract the effect, she glared at him. “I wouldn’t have cut it at all if you hadn’t rang the doorbell just as I was picking up the glass.”
“Next time I’ll leave you to bleed to death,” he said brusquely, undoing the tissue to reveal the injured finger. He scowled as he examined it. “There’s a lot of blood, but I think you’ll get away without stitches.” He raised his head, his dark eyes stabbing her. “Any other injuries I should know about?”
Tell him no.
But the truth slipped out. “Only a bump on the head.”
“Show me.”
She winced where she felt the lump. “It’s nothing, really. It’s—”
“Bleeding,” he growled, moving in closer, touching her head.
She swallowed convulsively. “I’ll be fine.”
“Where’s your first-aid kit?”
“In the kitchen, but—”
“Right.” He cupped her elbow and started her forward with him. “Let’s take a proper look at it.”
Her skin continued to scorch where he touched. “Mr. Donovan, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than play doctor with me,” she said as they sidestepped the broken glass.
He shot her a masculine look that coiled tension inside her. His thoughts didn’t need to be said out loud to fill the silence between them.
As soon as she reached the kitchen, she quickly moved away from him and took the small box out of a cupboard to place on the bench. He followed her, then began searching through the contents. Taking advantage of the moment, she stepped back, grateful the kitchen was large and airy and far less intimate than two people standing in a doorway.
“Move that stool over there and sit under the light,” he ordered. “I’ll be able to see better.”
That was what she was afraid of. But, her heart thudding against her ribs, she did what he said anyway. Better to get it over and done with so he’d leave sooner rather than later.
He came toward her, the ball of cotton in his hand contrasting with the tan of his skin. And then he stood behind her, bringing a very male scent with him. She’d noticed it when he’d walked in but now the scent intensified like a potent wine, ready to lull her into blissful surrender.
She jumped when he brushed a lock of her blond hair aside and began dabbing at the cut. His touch was gentle yet probing, the way a man’s touch should be. Would he be the same in bed? Oh, yes, he’d know how to turn a woman on.
“Mr. Donovan—”
“Flynn,” he suddenly said in a rough voice.
She ignored that. “Mr. Donovan, I think—”
“How long will it take you to pack?”
That pulled her thoughts up short. “Pack?”
“For Tahiti. I have to go there for business. My jet’s on standby. We can leave within the hour.”
“Tahiti?” She spun to face him, barely wincing as his fingers brushed her scalp. Dear God, what was he saying?
His dark eyes watched her with a knowing look in them. “I have a house there. Our privacy will be assured.”
It fell into place then. He expected her to go away with him as payment for the loan. God, did he really think she would do such a thing?
“I don’t need any privacy,” she choked, strangely hurt. “I don’t intend to go away with you.” A burst of anger hit her. “Anyway, just who do you think you are? You snap your fingers and I’m to drop everything? Sorry. Your women friends may do that but I have a mind of my own.”
His eyes hardened. “Oh, come now, Danielle. Who are you trying to fool?”
She straightened her shoulders. “The only fool around here is you.”
His face tightened, making her aware of the firm thrust of his jaw and the broad plane of his forehead. “Don’t underestimate me.”
A frisson of fear slipped down her spine. This man had wealth, power and the right connections and he believed she’d done him an injustice. As much as she wanted to deny he could make life uncomfortable for her, she knew he would do it if pushed. She couldn’t afford that. There wasn’t only herself to think about now.
She moistened her mouth and tried to be conciliatory. “Mr. Donovan, please…I don’t sleep with men I barely know.”
“That isn’t what your late husband told me.”
She felt the blood drain from her face.
“I see you don’t like being caught out,” he mocked, seeming to watch her more closely.
Pain squeezed her heart. Robert…her husband…the man she’d been married to for three years…had told Flynn Donovan such lies about her? Why?
“Um…” She cleared her throat. “What exactly did Robert say?”
“That you married him for his money. And that you slept around and spent it all,” he said bluntly.
It was just as well she was sitting on the stool or she may well have fallen. How could Robert have said those things about her? She’d thought she’d loved Robert when she married him. And she never, ever slept around and she’d never wasted his money. Never.
Then she looked at Flynn Donovan. At that moment she hated Robert for his lies, but she hated Flynn more for his lack of compunction over her feelings. “I see. You obviously believed him.”
His lips twisted. “When he explained the reason for defaulting on the loan, I wasn’t actually concerned with character references.”
“Yet you lent the money to us based on character,” she said, her voice remarkably calm considering the turmoil inside her.
His eyes narrowed. “No, we based it on the fact that he was coming into money and would pay us back as soon as he received it. He seemed a good risk at the time. We didn’t take into account that you had the money spent before he could even get to it.”
Danielle remembered Robert mentioning something about coming into an inheritance from one of his aunts, but she hadn’t realized it was a large enough amount to serve as collateral for a loan. For him to have then spent that amount plus the two hundred thousand he’d borrowed from Flynn Donovan spoke of sheer irresponsibility.
And Monica? Had she known? Danielle didn’t think so. Her mother-in-law was well-off in her own right but had never discussed money and, in any case, she knew Monica had never suspected her son had a problem with money.
She certainly hadn’t suspected any problems, Danielle mused as she realized Flynn had walked over to the first-aid kit and was rummaging around in it. One thing was clear. No one would believe her if she chose to refute Robert’s claims.
“Why deny it?” Flynn said coldly over his shoulder, confirming her fears. “Your car alone cost fifty thousand dollars, not to mention your frequent European holidays and shopping sprees.