Purchased By The Billionaire

Down, but not cowed, Duardo perceived. She didn’t disappoint.

‘Let’s dispense with the pretense, shall we?’ When it came to game-playing, he was a lifetime ahead of her. ‘You have a mountain of debt you can’t hope to clear in a lifetime. Thugs have served the first of a few painful lessons for late payment. And you have no one else but me to turn to.’

Her eyes hardened. ‘Does it give you pleasure to know that?’

‘You can choose to walk out that door now,’ he intoned with deceptive quiet.

‘And if I do?’

‘You’ll never walk through it again.’

His words held a frightening finality, leaving her in no doubt he meant every one of them.

She had a mental picture of Jacob lying in an open coffin, instead of a hospital bed, and she was unable to control the shiver of fear slithering down her spine.

‘Perhaps we can start over?’

Benjamin had done a number on her. His own daughter. At the time Duardo had wanted to haul her over his shoulder and take her away. Vilify her father, and sue for defamation of character. Instead, he’d worked behind the scenes, and achieved what Benjamin had falsely accused him of at the time.

Because he could.

Now he moved to lean one hip against the edge of his desk, and watched her struggle for composure.

‘Jacob told me you’re aware of our…situation.’

He wasn’t going to make it easy. But then, why should he?

What they’d shared…what once had been…was now long gone. Destroyed by complex circumstances.

‘You want my help,’ Duardo prompted with silky smoothness, and caught the glitter of helpless anger in those brilliant blue eyes. It gave him no pleasure to see it there.

‘Yes.’

Would he make her beg? Could she?

For Jacob. Survival. Because she had no choice.

‘We need money.’ Oh, hell, this was hard. ‘To pay some debts.’

‘Debts which will soon accumulate and escalate to a repeat of this situation within a very short space of time.’

He knew. He had to know. Jacob would have told him, and it wouldn’t take much to access the true state of their miserably dire state of affairs.

She wanted to weep, but strong women don’t succumb to emotional distress.

‘Please.’ Desperation fractured her voice.

‘There are conditions.’

She expected no less. ‘What do you propose?’ Inside she was a mess of jangling nerves.

‘I clear all debts, and fund Jacob through medical school.’

Millions of dollars.

Her brother’s discarded dream fulfilled.

A substantial financial package, for which payment in one form or another would have to be made.

She needed for him to spell it out. ‘In return for…what?’

‘I want what I once had.’ He watched the realization sink in, then hammered it home. ‘You. As my wife.’

Colour leeched from her face, and for a few seconds it seemed as if the room took a slight sideways tilt.

Wife?

She had a sudden need to sit down, yet to do so would betray her vulnerability. And she refused to give him the satisfaction.

Yet there was nothing she could do about the way her heart raced to an accelerated beat at the thought of that hard, muscular body entwined with her own in intimate possession, enticing, sharing…gifting the ultimate tactile pleasure, with his mouth, his hands.

As it had been during those brief few days of their marriage, when he’d introduced her to the sensual delights of the flesh, and she’d believed herself to be in love and loved.

Even now she experienced dreams so exquisitely sensual she woke bathed in sweat…and wanting.

Kayla could only look at him, aware to a frightening degree of his strength of will and the power he wielded.

‘Revenge, Duardo?’

He took his time in answering. ‘Everything has a price.’ Eyes as dark as sin seared her own. ‘My terms,’ he enforced with dangerous silkiness. ‘Accept or reject them.’

Commit herself to him, accept him into her body, play at being wife…

‘For how long?’ The query fell from her lips.

‘As long as it takes.’

Until he tired of her? Live on a knife-edge, waiting for the figurative axe to fall?

She couldn’t do it.

Yet what choice did she have?

None. Zilch. Nada.

A pulse hammered at the edge of her throat as she fought the temptation to turn and walk out the door, out of his office…his life.

It didn’t help that he knew. Or that he was intent on playing a deliberate game, pushing her buttons…simply because he could.