Читать книгу Blackmailed Into His Arms: Blackmailed into Bed / The Billionaire's Blackmail Bargain / Blackmailed For Her Baby - Маргарет Майо, Elizabeth Power - Страница 15

Between her nerves over meeting Chase’s parents and her disturbing conversation with Alandra before leaving, Elena’s stomach was in knots. Her palms were sweating, her knees were shaking and every once in a while, her chest tightened so much, she could barely draw a breath.

When Chase pulled up to the house at six on the dot, Elena made her sister stay in her room. The last thing she needed was for Alandra to race down the stairs to catch a glimpse of him or be caught peering around the corner like a child on Christmas morning, trying to catch Santa Claus piling presents under the tree.

But even though Alandra bided by her wishes and stayed out of sight, Elena knew she was watching from the upstairs window as Chase helped her into the car and they pulled away.

On the drive, she tried to make small talk, tried to respond with some modicum of sensibility when Chase spoke. But inside, her blood and muscles and bones felt as though they’d been touched by a live wire. She was surprised he didn’t notice a glow in her eyes or sparks shooting from her fingertips.

The Ramsey ranch was on the other side of Gabriel’s Crossing, but they still arrived much too soon for Elena’s peace of mind. Chase’s shiny silver luxury car bumped down a long, rutted dirt driveway, kicking up a cloud of dust behind them.

A dark blue pickup truck was already parked in front of the house. Chase pulled up beside it and cut the engine.

For a moment, they sat there, neither one making a move to get out. Elena stared at the front door, fully expecting it to fly open and the stuff of nightmares to pour out.

Alandra was right; it meant something. Despite her better judgment, she was falling for Chase, and falling hard. And for some reason, whether or not his parents liked her felt like a very big deal.

She wished it didn’t. She wished she could convince herself that this was merely another business dinner he’d asked her to attend. Meeting his parents felt entirely too much like something a girlfriend would do.

A girlfriend, not a mistress.

The click of the door latch releasing on Chase’s side of the car interrupted her thoughts and she hurried to open her own and climb to her feet. Brushing her hands on the legs of her slacks, she took a deep breath and tried to calm the jumble of anxiety tightening her stomach.

She was his mistress, she reminded herself as brutally as she could. Not his girlfriend, not his fiancée, not even, really, his lover. This might be his family, but to her, they were simply another group of strangers she needed to entertain and impress to fulfill her part of the bargain.

Chase met her at the front of the car, only steps from the narrow porch that ran the full length of the front of the house.

“Ready?” he asked, seeming to sense her reluctance, even though she was doing her best to tame it.

She swallowed hard and let him take her hand, pasting on a wide smile she didn’t quite feel. “Of course.”

He led her onto the porch and through the front door. Voices assaulted them as soon as they stepped into the house. Male and female, one on top of the other.

They moved through a wide, homey living room that took up the front of the house, and down a short hallway that opened into a dining room filled with people—the source of all the noise.

Two men sat at one end of a long pine table already set with plates and silverware. One was older, one younger, but Elena could tell right away that they were related. Chase’s father and brother, she would guess.

Beside the younger man stood a high chair with a brown-haired little girl seated inside, seemingly content to occupy herself by chewing on the wrong end of a small plastic spoon.

While Elena was taking in her surroundings, a swinging door opened and two women came out, both carrying a bowl or platter in each hand as they smiled and chatted.

“Chase!” the older of the two cried the moment she spotted them standing there. She quickly set sliced pot roast and buttered green beans on the table, then rushed toward them.

“Hi, Mom,” Chase said, returning the woman’s hug as she threw her arms around him and squeezed.

When they separated, his mother turned to face Elena. “And you must be Elena. Chase told us he might bring you along.”

Elena returned her greeting and shook the woman’s hand when she offered it, with Chase adding to the introduction.

“Elena, this is my mother, Theresa. And this is everyone else,” he said, pointing as he went around the room. “My father, Isaac; my brother, Mitch; his wife, Emma; and their daughter, Amelia. Everyone, this is Elena Sanchez.”

They all smiled and said hello, and she felt her anxiety begin to ease as Chase pulled out a chair and waited for her to take a seat, then sat down beside her.

Pot roast, mashed potatoes, green beans and sliced peaches were passed around the table, the room filling once again with noise as everyone started speaking at the same time. Voices and laughter mixing, conversations overlapping and turning on a dime.

Instead of being overwhelmed, Elena found the exuberant atmosphere comforting. It reminded her of some of her own family’s gatherings, back before her mother died. She, Alandra and their father still ate meals together as often as possible, but they tended to be quieter, more subdued affairs these days.

Although she didn’t take a large part in the interaction, she responded whenever questions were directed at her and found herself laughing several times at one thing or another. And as if the meal itself wasn’t delicious enough, Theresa brought out a fresh-from-the-oven pecan pie that nearly made Elena weep.

With everyone stuffed, and little Amelia’s eyes drooping, things began to quiet down. Elena helped Theresa clear the table and fill the dishwasher while Emma took the toddler upstairs to sleep and the men moved from the dining room to the living room. A few minutes later, they heard the front door open and then close, and Theresa rolled her eyes.

“Isaac thinks I don’t know about those filthy cigars he likes to sneak after dinner. Like I can’t smell them on him for hours afterward.”

She reached into a cupboard and removed three short-stemmed wineglasses to go with the bottle of chardonnay she’d already set on the counter. Holding the three glasses upside down in one hand and the neck of the bottle in the other, she nudged the kitchen door with her hip and led the way through the house to the sitting room.

“He takes the boys outside with him so he can claim they needed to talk. I won’t say anything tonight, though, since it will give us girls a chance to chat, too.”

Emma came back downstairs then, to curl up in one corner of the overstuffed sofa. She smiled and thanked Theresa when the older woman passed her a half-full glass of wine.

Elena took a seat on the other end of the sofa, not quite at ease enough to put her feet up. But then, she was a guest here, not a daughter-in-law.

Theresa handed her a glass, too, then sat back in a matching armchair to sip from her own.

“So,” Theresa murmured casually, “tell us how you came to be dating my son.”

“So what’s up with the raven-haired beauty?” Mitch asked, sipping at the three fingers of scotch he’d poured before their father had dragged them outside so he could sneak a few puffs from his cigar before their mother discovered him.

Chase took a sip from his own glass before responding. “Nothing’s up. She’s a friend, that’s all.”

“Mm-hmm.” Keeping his gaze on the barn and paddock several yards from the house, his brother said, “You haven’t brought a woman home to meet Mom and Dad since we were in high school.”

“She seems like a nice girl,” Isaac put in from farther down the porch railing. “I like her.”

Chase elected not to respond to that. Mitch was right about him not bringing a girl home to meet his parents since they were both teenagers, but he didn’t want to give anyone ideas.

He couldn’t even say for sure why he’d brought Elena along tonight. It wasn’t to meet his parents—not to see how she acted around them or what they thought of her.

He’d just … wanted company. He hadn’t wanted to show up for yet another family dinner by himself, feeling a bit like an outsider now that his brother was married and so obviously happy with his wife and daughter. Ever since Mitch and Emma had gotten together, his parents—or at least his mother—had focused on seeing him settled down.

She wasn’t single-minded about it, thank goodness. Only the occasional question about his personal life or remark about his finding a “good woman” to let him know he was still on her radar.

He’d known that even before asking Elena to accompany him tonight. So why the hell had he gone through with it, anyway?

Because it was part of their agreement. She would go with him to meetings and dinners whenever he needed her, and he’d needed someone with him tonight.

That’s all there was to it, nothing more. The fact that his mother and father—and even his brother, apparently—were reading more into it was none of his concern.

Not that he hadn’t noticed how well she fit in with the rowdy bunch he called family. She hadn’t been overwhelmed by them, as he’d feared. Instead, she’d seemed to enjoy the boisterous camaraderie and had handled the many switches in conversation with ease.

Then again, what did he expect? Ever since he’d started spending time with her again, there wasn’t a situation he could think of where she’d been uncomfortable or out of place.

Perhaps he’d been testing her, tossing her into the middle of one of his family’s dinner gatherings to see if there was anything that caught her off guard. Or maybe he’d simply wanted her with him, wanted to share a part of his life with her that he hadn’t before.

Of course, it didn’t make him too happy to think that might be the case. If it was, he was in trouble. She was supposed to be his mistress … and only that because he wanted to exact a bit of revenge on her for the way she’d treated him in junior high.

A man didn’t usually bring his mistress home to meet his parents. And a man bent on revenge certainly didn’t look for ways to incorporate the subject of his vengeance more firmly into his life.

He threw back the last of his scotch at the same time his father stubbed out his cigar.

“She’s just a friend,” Chase repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. Heading for the front door, he stopped with his hand on the knob to turn back and fix his brother with a warning glare. “Leave it alone.”

As interrogations went, Elena supposed the one with Chase’s mother and sister-in-law wasn’t so bad. It had started with, “So, tell me how you came to be dating my son,” but hadn’t gone much farther than that.

Elena had explained that she wasn’t dating Chase, that they were really just friends and business acquaintances. And Theresa Ramsey was savvy enough to realize her son wasn’t a topic Elena cared to discuss, so she’d quickly moved into less personal, less dangerous territory.

They’d talked about Chase’s and her trip to Vegas, but only in the vaguest of terms. About Chase’s company, Ramsey Corporation, and how he’d built it from the ground up all on his own. About Elena’s family—but again, only in the vaguest of terms—since Elena didn’t particularly want to remind Theresa of the Christmas party they had attended where she had been so rude and cruel to Chase. And finally, about how Emma and Mitch had met—as children—and then ended up falling in love and getting married so many years later.

It was a lovely story, one that brought tears to Elena’s eyes. For a moment, it almost made her believe true love existed and that fate could take a hand in a person’s life, even if things had gotten off to a rocky start.

But what was she thinking? That some unseen force would reach down and bring her and Chase together?

Who was she trying to kid? Even if he found her physically irresistible … even if their current relationship lasted much longer than originally intended … she didn’t think he would ever be able to get past what she’d done to him all those years ago.

She didn’t blame him, but she did wish things could be different.

If only she hadn’t been such a spoiled, arrogant brat as a teenager.

If only they had met again as adults with clean slates and no ugly baggage from their pasts.

Then, maybe they would have actually had a shot at making things work.

But the way it stood now, she knew they didn’t. She also knew that when the time came for them to call it quits, a little part of her heart would break off and travel with him wherever he went.

Her chest tightened and her eyes began to dampen again. She quickly swallowed and took a deep breath, hoping her companions wouldn’t notice the sudden rush of emotion that threatened to close her throat.

To her left, the front door creaked open and she welcomed the sudden distraction as Chase entered the room, followed by his brother and father.

Chase, she noticed, was carrying an empty tumbler and moved directly to the bar. For a moment, he hesitated, apparently contemplating a refill. But then he set his glass down and walked away.

Moving to the sofa, he took a seat at her side while his brother did the same beside his wife, so that the two women were at the ends with the two men sandwiched between them.

Rather than sit down, Isaac took up position behind his wife’s chair. Close enough, Elena noticed, to play the part of the loving husband, but far enough away that Theresa wasn’t likely to comment if she noticed the scent of cigar smoke lingering on his breath or clothes. To cover her grin, Elena lifted a hand to her mouth and pretended to cough.

For the next half hour, the six of them made small talk. Thankfully, the conversation completely avoided the topic of Chase’s and her relationship.

And then it was time to leave. Chase stood, holding a hand out to her to help her to her feet, and everyone else followed suit.

Theresa and Emma both hugged Elena while Isaac and Mitch shook her hand and wished her well. She was invited to come back any time, and she promised that she would, even though she suspected such an event would never actually take place.

In the car, Elena waited until Chase had started the engine and turned down the driveway before leaning against the headrest and releasing a long breath. The bright headlights created twin streaks of yellow along the dirt lane.

“Tired?” Chase asked, glancing in her direction before returning his attention to the road.

“Not really,” she answered honestly. She was, but only because she’d been so nervous and tense about meeting his family to begin with. With the anxiety behind her, she suddenly felt like a blown-up balloon pricked by a pin and allowed to expel its air all at once. “I was just thinking about how nice your family is. Thank you for introducing them to me.”

A beat of heavy silence passed, then he said, “They liked you, too.”

She smiled in the darkness. “I’m glad.”

He turned on the radio and the soft strains of a classical CD filled the space around them. Neither of them spoke another word until they neared her house.

At a stop sign, Chase stopped. Only when they remained there for longer than Elena thought was necessary did she look at him, brows drawn together in an unspoken query. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel and he didn’t meet her gaze.

“I can take you home,” he said slowly. “Or you can come back to my place with me.”

Her stomach jumped and every inch of her skin broke out in gooseflesh, tingling as though she’d just been touched by a live wire.

She licked her lips, her mouth gone dry. “I … can go home with you, I guess,” she told him in a soft voice.

His only response was a tight nod. Then, instead of turning right as he would have to drop her off, he went straight, toward his own home.

She’d never given much thought to where he lived. Whenever she pictured him in his own environment, it was his office, behind his desk, as he’d been that first time she’d gone to plead her father’s case. Aside from that, she supposed she’d always assumed he lived in an apartment somewhere, perhaps a penthouse on the top floor of the Ramsey Corporation office building.

A man like Chase—single, wealthy, independent—wouldn’t need much space. Just a bedroom, bathroom, small kitchen and of course an office where he could work.

So her jaw nearly dropped when he turned into an upscale housing development and stopped in the driveway of a gorgeous, sprawling two-story brick home.

“This is your house?” she asked as he cut the engine, not bothering to hide her awe.

He sat back in his seat, offering a wry smile. “Yeah, why? Did you think I lived at some cheap hotel? Or maybe sleep at my desk at work?”

She flushed at just how close his guess was to what she’d been thinking and was glad it was too dark for him to see.

“No,” she denied, “I just didn’t realize you owned your own house. It’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you. Though it’s not quite the mansion you grew up in, I know.”

He opened his door and stepped out and she followed suit.

“Yes, well, even I admit Pop went a bit overboard when he built it. He was the first member of his family to really make something of himself, and I think he confused the house from Gone with the Wind with the average American dream.”

That earned her a chuckle and she joined in as he led her up the moonlit path to the front door. Reaching around the jamb, he flipped a switch. Light flooded the foyer and part of the front yard from a massive chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling where dozens of crystal teardrops twinkled brightly.

“Would you like a tour?”

She nodded eagerly, already fascinated by the little she’d seen.

He showed her the den, kitchen and family room, and stood in front of a set of wide French doors at the back of the house as he described the patio and lawn that she couldn’t see much of in the muted illumination from the house. There was also an indoor pool and workout room, two things even her father’s sizeable estate couldn’t boast.

Then he led her upstairs and pointed out several beautifully decorated guest rooms, as well as a central restroom that didn’t look as though it was used very often.

At the end of the hall stood the master bedroom, easily twice as large as any of the others, and done in dark, masculine tones. The bed was a giant four poster made of mahogany and covered with a comforter of forest green and navy blue swirls. On either side of the bed stood two-drawer nightstands carved of the same wood and with the same design as the bedposts, and holding matching wrought iron lamps. A doorway to the right of the bed led to the master bath, with a sunken whirlpool tub, a separate shower and two sinks set into a long marble countertop.

As though she wasn’t impressed enough already, he informed her that he’d overseen both the design and decoration of the entire house. The man had great taste, she admitted, more than a little surprised by just how luxurious and tasteful his home was.

It was a shame, though, that he lived there alone. Such a large place seemed wasted on only one person.

“So,” he murmured, “would you like a glass of wine, or something else to drink?”

They were still standing in the middle of the bedroom, but while she had felt completely comfortable a moment ago, she was suddenly faced with an attack of nerves. Her reason for being in his home, alone with him, this late at night flashed back to her and her heart gave a tiny flip.

“No, thank you,” she said softly with a shake of her head. She’d had two glasses of chardonnay at his parents’ house. Any more and her head might start to get fuzzy.

Her fingers worked distractedly on the strap of her purse as she added, “I should call my sister, though. Let her know I’m going to be late.”

He nodded, then pointed to the cordless phone charging on one of the nightstands. “Help yourself.”

Striding to the walk-in closet at the far side of the room, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it in the jungle of other suit jackets.

“If you’d like,” he said as she was dialing, “you can tell her I’ll bring you home in the morning.” Cocking his head in her direction, he shot her a glance filled with sultry and seductive meaning. “That is, if you’d like to stay the night.”