Читать книгу The Dare Collection April 2019 - Christy McKellen, Nicola Marsh - Страница 16

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 vital that Dad thought I was on his side. That way he wouldn’t see me working in the background to take him and his filthy empire down.

Yes, Leon and Xander had got caught in the crossfire, but they were better now. They had the lives they’d 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.