Purchased By The Billionaire

Their main meal was delivered, and served with a polite flourish.

‘Benjamin’s most prized possession.’ Duardo waited a beat. ‘One he would have done anything to remove from my orbit.’

Kayla looked at the artistically displayed food on her plate, and felt suddenly ill. ‘You’re wrong.’

‘I, too, can produce documented proof.’ He picked up a fork, speared a morsel and held it suspended for a few seconds. ‘The comparison with Benjamin’s papers should prove—’ he paused almost perceptibly ‘—interesting, don’t you think?’

Except there were no papers. At least, not those. When she’d asked, Benjamin had insisted they were with his lawyers. Who, on enquiry, could find no record of them.

It seemed unconscionable that Benjamin would contrive to destroy her marriage. Had his personal grief over Blanche’s loss tipped him over the edge?

‘Eat,’ Durado commanded quietly.

‘I’m not hungry.’ For even a mouthful would choke her, and she pushed her plate to one side, her appetite gone.

It had been a doozy of a day. One that was far from over. She wanted to walk out of here, away from this inimical man, what he proposed…everything.

‘Don’t even consider it.’ His tone was a silky threat, and, without thinking, she picked up her glass and flung the contents in his face.

In seeming slow motion she watched Duardo collect his table napkin, glimpsed the startled attention of the waiter, who rushed to his aid, and she stood to her feet, collected her purse…and fled.

She made the pavement, lifted a hand to flag a passing cab, only to cry out as strong hands closed over her shoulders and swung her around.

Duardo’s features looked hard in the dim reflected streetlight, the structural bones etched in controlled anger.

‘You’re hurting me.’

‘Believe me, I’m being extremely careful not to.’

For a moment the tension between them was electric, stretched so taut the slightest movement would result in an explosive shower of sparks.

‘I can’t do this.’ It was an agonized cry dredged from the depths of her soul.

His hands slid up to cup her face, tilting it so she had no recourse but to look at him.

‘I need time,’ she said.

‘Time won’t change a thing.’

‘Please.’

He traced the outline of her mouth with the edge of his thumb. ‘No.’

Kayla bit him…hard. Heard his muffled oath, tasted his blood and cried out as he hefted her over one shoulder.

‘Put me down!’

‘Soon.’

She curled her hands into fists and pummelled them against his back. To no avail, as he strode easily to his car, unlocked the passenger door and bundled her into the seat.

He was close, far too close as he caught the seat belt and clipped it in place. ‘Move, and I won’t answer for the consequences.’

She hated him…didn’t she? Hated him for placing her in this invidious position.

Yet…what if he was telling the truth?

Had her father lied and connived to his own ends?

She shook her head in disbelief. It was almost too much for her to take in.

She watched as Duardo walked around the car and slid in behind the wheel.

It was difficult to see his expression in the dim interior of the car, and she stared blankly at the night scene beyond the windscreen.

‘I want to see the paperwork detailing your takeover.’

She had to know.

‘I’ll instruct my lawyer to supply you with a copy.’

The Aston Martin purred to life, and she sat in strained silence as the car traversed the city streets. Duardo offered the opportunity for a life free from debt, the fulfillment of her brother’s dream.

Jacob was all she had, and he deserved this chance.

So, too, did she. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. For the love of God…didn’t she?

The alternative…

Don’t go there. It serves no purpose.

There was only now. And she’d deal with it. She had to.

The car drew to a halt in the narrow inner-city suburban street where she lived.

A late-model four-wheel-drive was parked nearby, and she stood still as Duardo paused to speak with the driver before indicating the entrance to her apartment.

Dim lighting didn’t disguise the dingy surroundings, or the well-trodden wooden stairs as she ascended them ahead of him. Chipped paint, and the faint but distinct smell of decay.

Double locks on the door protected a pitiful space with minimal furniture, worn furnishings and the lack of personal touches. It was simply a place to sleep, not to live.

‘Collect what you need.’

It didn’t take long to transfer her meagre belongings into one bag and place Jacob’s possessions into another. ‘The landlord—’

‘Spence has already dealt with it.’ He indicated the small foldaway table. ‘Leave the key.’

Kayla looked at him in silent askance as he caught hold of both bags.