Pirate Tycoon, Forbidden Baby

His smile was glacial. “You’re coming with me, ma chеrie.”

Her skin pebbled as a cloying sensation settled over her. “In your dreams,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice.

A muscle pulsed madly in his cheek. “I’ll carry you if I must, but we are returning to Petit St. Marc.”

The island? Her heart stuttered, then began racing. “Why?”

“To trump your lover, ma chеrie.”

Had he gone mad? “Then you are wasting your time, because I don’t have a lover.”

“I know you’ve been doing Peter Bellamy’s bidding from the start. Now it stops.”

“Peter?” A hysterical laugh bubbled from her. “I assure you that I’m not his lover.”

“Spare me your lies. I know the truth.”

No, he couldn’t be more wrong. But she realized that if he didn’t believe her in this, he’d never believe he was the father of her child.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Leave now or I’ll—”

He snapped his fingers and she jumped, slamming her back against the wall. “That’s all it would take to have this hotel razed. Your shares would be worthless. Is that what you want?”

This was blackmail. Kidnapping at the very least! But to balk would bring about the destruction of her hotel.

“No,” she said, knowing he wasn’t bluffing. “But I can’t leave the Chateau without making arrangements.”

“You can and you will.” His long fingers curled around her bare arm and he guided her out the door, his touch surprisingly gentle.

Yet she felt the underlying steel and rage in him and knew fighting was futile. And she was so weary already.

Andrе was a man who took what he wanted, when he wanted. He’d proved that when he’d seduced her on Petit St. Marc. Proved it again when he’d swum in from the Caribbean like a great white shark and gobbled up control of the Chateau.

Yet she’d glimpsed another side of him on the island—a tenderness that had called to her heart, and a vulnerability she hadn’t understood.

Yes, for now she’d return to the island with him. Perhaps there she’d find the right time to tell him about their child. Perhaps there she’d be able to reason with him about the Chateau—convince him she’d been robbed of her birthright. Perhaps in time they’d be able to start over.

Andrе Gauthier stared at the deceptive woman walking down the corridor before him, her rounded hips rocking in an invitation that any red-blooded man would accept. No wonder Bellamy had given her forty-nine percent of Chateau Mystique.

Kira Montgomery was sex personified. She had certainly beguiled him with the oldest trick in the book.

He’d prided himself on his cool control under duress, nurtured it until it was second nature. It had never let him down—until Kira had invaded his island three months ago.

Andrе hadn’t been surprised when Bellamy had sent a female employee to Petit St. Marc to charm him after his last offer to buy the Chateau had been turned down. The excuse that she’d come for a prearranged meeting had been a lie.

The old man had banked on Kira’s charms and Andrе’s moment of grief to alter his ultimate goal. Or so Andrе had believed.

It had worked. For that one night. Kira had pleaded her case with passion, and Andrе had found himself caught up in the most stimulating debate of his life.

He hadn’t realized the extend of her deceit until much later. The elder Bellamy hadn’t sent her—his son had. Peter. His most fierce rival. Peter—the man he now suspected had set in motion events that had brought about the accident that had killed Edouard’s mistress and landed Edouard in a hospital.

Kira was not only Peter’s mistress, she was his accomplice as well. Oui, she was the brains of the maneuver that had ultimately eliminated the old man—that had earned her control of Chateau Mystique.

But her treachery had robbed Andrе of something far more valuable than property. She’d had a hand in destroying the last of his family.

Kira had deceived him in the worst possible way.

She deserved no less in return.

Retribution coursed through his blood like a molten river.

Peter Bellamy would chaff, knowing that Andrе held Kira on Petit St. Marc. She in turn wouldn’t be able to contact her accomplice—her lover.

She’d be at his mercy when he launched the final takeover of Bellamy Enterprises.

His revenge wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d bested Bellamy’s conniving son at his own game—until he’d made Kira regret that she’d set out to destroy him.

Andrе joined her in the lift and they rode up in silence to the fifth floor. He wondered if she’d entertained Peter Bellamy there while the old man had dominated his mistress in the penthouse.

The dark thought stayed with him as he followed Kira to a fifth-floor door. She slid a card key in the slot and stepped into a small but cozy suite. He noted the room bore quaint personal touches, typical of an English parlor, and carried her light floral fragrance. It seemed too benign. Too cozy.

“Pack light,” he said, annoyed by the thought of her entertaining Peter Bellamy here.

Her shoulders stiffened—proof the order had grated. Good. He wanted to keep her off balance, keep her wondering what he planned to do to her.

“Do you plan to keep me locked in a room?” she asked.

“If I must.”

The color leached from her face, only to return in a rosy flush that hinted of righteous anger. He ground his teeth, annoyed she could project such a quality.

“This is wrong of you to force me to leave here,” she said.

How dared she accuse him of wrongdoing? “You should have thought of that before you agreed to do Bellamy’s bidding.”

She stared at him, her expression guarded. “As I’ve said all along, I was told you’d agreed to meet me on your island to discuss the Chateau.”

“Save your lies,” he said. “I have proof of your part in his scheme.”

Her lovely mouth fell open, as if she was shocked by his claim. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re referring to.”

His smile was as tight as the tension bouncing off the jade brocade walls. “It amazes me that people shred the paper trail but forget the electronic one.”

“There is none,” she said.

“Don’t be too sure.”

“But I am certain.”