by Reese Ryan
Elaina’s lips tightened. “Don’t patronize me. Look, forget my broken womb and prepare for yours to be claimed faster than the last yeast roll at Sunday dinner. Daddy’s ready for you to get married and make little Robidoux children. Our cousins are being fruitful and multiplying. If we don’t catch up, the company will end up completely in their hands. So, beware of Russell.”
India shook her head. “No, no, no. I’m not going to let him coerce me into anything. I’m only here for a few days.”
Elaina sipped from her glass and raised one slim shoulder. “I wouldn’t complain. Russell isn’t bad. He’s young, smart, good-looking. I don’t think you’d find it hard to cozy up to him.”
India scowled. “Then you cozy up to him.”
“I’m not the cozying type.” Elaina waved a hand. “Enough about that. I’ll wait and see who wins that battle after we get through the party tonight.”
“Where’s Byron? If this party is for him, I’d expect him to be here.”
“As if the favored son would dare take the time to plan his own party,” Elaina said without any animosity. Byron had always been spoiled and doted on by their father and late mother. Even India, his baby sister.
“He’s off with Travis. They’ll be in later,” Elaina said.
India’s stomach twisted as if she’d had six glasses of wine instead of half of one. “Will Travis be at the party?” she managed to ask in a steady voice.
“Of course, he will. He and Byron are joined at the hip.” There was one emotion Elaina wasn’t afraid to show and that was irritation, something which was thick in her voice as discussed her ex-husband and brother.
After what happened between her and Travis, every time India saw him with Elaina it felt like jagged claws sinking into her chest. The pain had dulled somewhat over the years, but Travis had never belonged to her. Elaina had been married to him. They’d shared so much. India could only imagine how hard it must be for Elaina to see him so often. “That doesn’t bother you?”
Elaina ran a finger over the rim of her wineglass. “Travis and I don’t love each other. He worked for the company and is my darling brother’s best friend.” The words sounded like a carefully crafted public relations statement.
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
Elaina pointedly looked India in the eye. Her push me on this and I’ll eviscerate you feelings were very clear in her direct gaze. “No. It doesn’t bother me,” she said carefully. “I don’t love Travis and shouldn’t have married him. Our divorce was the best thing that could have happened to either of us.” She capped off the very mature-sounding words with a serene smile.
The words were little comfort to India. She was happy her sister wasn’t heartbroken, but had they really not loved each other? She’d consoled her own bruised feelings and reasoned that Travis had married Elaina because in the end he realized he had loved her. That maybe he’d felt guilty after what happened the night of India’s birthday and had tried to make things right. For Elaina to say they never loved each other made the bitter disappointment she’d felt back then come back even more.
That doesn’t mean he would have married you. It doesn’t mean anything would have been different. She’d been too young, too idealistic and too romantic back then. Maybe the truth was Travis had just been looking for a Robidoux sister to marry so he could further his own goals. Just because he kissed her once on the edge of the tobacco field, whispered words that she’d longed to hear, didn’t mean a thing.
She managed a small smile. “I’m glad you two are still friends.”
Elaina’s shoulders relaxed along with the tightness around her smile. She clearly had not wanted to continue to explore any of her feeling for Travis. “I’d thought Daddy lost his mind plucking him from that trailer park and training him up, but he’s proven himself to be loyal. That’s all the family needs.”
India opened her mouth to ask what Elaina needed, but footsteps sounded in the hall right before a man walked into the room. India’s breath rushed from her lungs.
Time had only enhanced his good looks. Dark brown skin smoother than the finest mahogany. Midnight black bedroom eyes that used to pierce through her shyness to the bold girl she’d tried to hide from her daddy. He had a swimmer’s body. Tall, sleek, well-defined. He wore a maroon polo shirt and dark brown slacks that complemented his dark skin. His full lips were parted in a big smile. He hadn’t noticed them, as he looked back and smiled at her brother behind him. Yet flashes went through her mind of his lips brushing her neck and his eyes staring at her beneath lowered lashes in the moonlight.
Byron saw them and his grin brightened the room. “India. You’re home.”
Travis swung around. His dark gaze collided with hers.
“India?” His deep voice washed over her. She’d forgotten the sound of her name on his lips: low, smooth, intoxicating. As if he savored the syllables as they rolled off his tongue.
Her stomach tightened and she chugged the remaining wine in her glass. Heat prickled across her skin like a thousand needles. She should have gone to LA. She should have realized running from a problem didn’t make the problem go away. Her brain screamed run and her feet twitched with the urgency to obey as the one answer she’d come home to find out robbed her of the ability speak. She was still in love with her sister’s husband.
Forbidden Promises
by Synithia Williams
Look for it March 2020 from HQN Books!
Copyright © 2020 by Synithia R. Williams
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Heartbreaker
by Joanne Rock
One
Gage Striker hadn’t been in the same room as Elena Rollins in six years. They’d never spoken after their breakup. Never texted. Never called.
And yet, the exact moment his former lover crossed the threshold of his remote Montana home, crashing his private party, he knew. He sensed her nearness like a breath on the back of his neck—a prickling awareness that set every nerve ending on alert.
How had she gained admittance? He’d hired a security team to prevent just such intrusions. Heads would roll for the oversight, given how many celebrity guests were under his roof at his Mesa Falls Ranch home tonight—guests who rightly expected their privacy to be protected. In the meantime, he needed to contain the problem. Just as soon as he located her.
Gage stood in the massive foyer with his friend and Mesa Falls co-owner Weston Rivera. The DJ was playing a pop song in the great room behind them and a handful of people were dancing. Just then, a commotion erupted near the front door as one of the evening’s more prominent celebrities strolled in with her entourage. Social media star Chiara Campagna caused quite a stir with her sleek dark hair and wide dark eyes, but Gage’s attention passed over her quickly.
Elena was his real concern.
Guests poured from the great room into the foyer, phones recording Chiara’s entrance as she accepted a magnolia flower from a greeter. It amazed him how much attention she attracted, especially among the handful of Hollywood elite who’d been invited to this evening’s party, a PR effort to raise awareness about the ranch’s environmental initiatives.
And to provide cover for the fact that all six of the owners of Mesa Falls Ranch were scheduled to fly in for a meeting this weekend. They were in crisis mode. The tabloids had been far too interested in the ranch ever since the actress Tabitha Barnes used their holiday gala as a platform to make explosive allegations about one of Mesa Falls’ former guests.
Gage kept waiting for the spotlight to fade and the public to move on to the next scandal, but tabloid reporters had started showing up to chase the story once they discovered how much time Alonzo Salazar had spent at the ranch before his death.
Much to Gage’s personal frustration, Elena had recently embarked on a new career in entertainment journalism. He had a strong suspicion she’d taken the job only when she’d seen a chance for payback given the way they’d parted. With all the gossip Elena Rollins could have covered closer to her Southern California home, of course she’d post a photo of her plane ticket to Missoula, Montana, on her social media account with a provocative caption about hunting down answers.
He’d known all week she was coming for him.
With an effort, Gage returned his attention to his business partner, and the coolly poised blonde at his side. The woman didn’t look familiar, but it was clear by the way Weston curled a possessive arm around her waist that she was someone special to him.
“This is more than we planned for, mate,” Gage observed as he took a rough head count of the crowd in the foyer. “We need better security.” Then, forcing a more pleasant note into his voice, he peered down at Weston’s guest. “I’m Gage, by the way.”
“April Stephens,” the woman replied, her blue eyes darting around the room and up to the cathedral ceiling where hidden lights cast a warm glow on the partygoers. “And thank you for inviting me. Your home is beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He had helped design the modern take on a lodge-style home, but he hadn’t spent much time on-site since his business interests kept him on the move. At fourteen thousand square feet, the property was made for entertaining more than anything. “I know this isn’t everyone’s idea of a party, though, love. Come back in the summer when we can kick our shoes off, barbecue some ribs and throw horseshoes by the pool. That’s more my speed.”
He’d never bought into his parents’ belief that appearances were everything. He might have been born with the proverbial silver spoon, but he’d chucked it aside as soon as he realized how much baggage came with it. Now, he had his own wealth. Made his own rules. Funny how he still ended up throwing parties for the overprivileged. At least he called the shots these days.
Weston leaned forward to address Gage. “I need all the help I can get convincing April to spend more time here.”
Intriguing that Weston would make his interest in the woman so clear. Gage had known Weston since boarding school days and he couldn’t recall a single female in all that time whom his footloose, mountaineering friend had gone out of his way to impress.
Gage nodded, respecting Weston’s wishes even though he couldn’t imagine diving into relationship waters again. He returned his attention to his friend’s date.
“Definitely come back and spend some time with us when there’s not so much hype.” He snapped his fingers suddenly, remembering why he should know the woman. “April. You’re the financial forensics investigator. How’s your case going?”
So this was the woman who’d been hired by Alonzo Salazar’s son to trace his mysterious finances. Gage’s former mentor had recently been unmasked as the man behind a Hollywood tell-all book that had caused Tabitha Barnes and her family a world of trouble.
“It’s closed,” she assured him. “I’ve tracked enough of Alonzo’s earnings to satisfy my client, so I’m officially finished with my work at Mesa Falls. I’ll be flying back to Denver tomorrow.”
Gage nodded, realizing she wasn’t going to offer any specifics. He would ask Devon Salazar for an update on the case in the morning since her findings could very well turn media scrutiny in another direction. Away from the ranch.
The encouraging thought immediately faded, however, as he felt the hairs at his shirt collar stand on end. The hum of awareness grew to a buzzing sensation until he had no choice but to turn around.
And came face-to-face with his former lover.
Elena Rollins stepped toward him, swathed in strapless crimson silk and velvet. Her dark hair was half pinned up and half trailing down her back, a few glossy curls spilling over one bare shoulder. Even now, six years later, she took his breath away as fast as a punch to his chest. For a single devastating instant, he thought the smile curving her red lips was for him.
Then, she opened her arms wide.
“April!” Elena greeted Weston Rivera’s date warmly, wrapping her in a one-armed embrace like they were old friends.
Only then did Gage notice how Elena gripped her phone in her other hand, holding it out at arm’s length to record everything. Was it a live video? Anger surged through him at the same time he wondered how in the hell she knew April Stephens.
“Smile for my followers,” Elena instructed her friend as the two women eased apart. She lifted her cell to get both of them in the shot.
April hesitated, clearly confused about being in the spotlight.
“Were you unaware of Elena’s day job?” Gage asked April as he plucked the device from Elena’s red talons and dropped it in the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “She’s now a professional menace.”
Elena rounded on him, pinning him with her dark eyes. They stood deadlocked in fuming silence. Weston might have said something to him—Gage couldn’t be sure—before Weston and April headed off. Now it was Gage and his ex, surrounded by at least twenty-five other guests still filming Chiara Campagna’s every movement on their phones.
“That belongs to me,” Elena sniped, tipping her chin at him. “You have no right to take it.”
“You have no right to be here, but I see you didn’t let that stop you from finagling your way onto the property.”
She glared at him, dark eyes narrowing. “My video is probably still recording. Maybe you should return my phone before you cause a scene that will bring you bad press.”
Extending a palm, she waited for him to hand it over.
“If you have a problem with me, why don’t you tell it to the security team you tricked into admitting you tonight?” He pointed toward the door where two bodyguards in gray suits were stationed on either side of the entrance. “You’re trespassing.”
The crush of people in the foyer began to ease as Chiara Campagna’s entourage made their way into the great room, pausing just inside the open double doors to take a few photos with her friends. At least there would be less of an audience for whatever antics Elena had in mind.
“Is that a dare, Gage?” Her voice hit a husky note, no doubt carefully calibrated to distract a man.
It damn well wasn’t going to work on him.
“I’m giving you a choice,” he clarified, unwilling to give her the public showdown she so clearly wanted to record and share with her followers. “You can speak with me privately about whatever it is you’re doing in my house, or you can let my team escort you off the premises right now. Either way, I can promise you there won’t be any cameras involved.”
“How positively boring.” She gave him a tight smile and a theatrical sigh before folding her arms across her chest. “Maybe using cameras could spice things up a bit.”
She gave him a once-over with her dark gaze.
He reminded himself that if she got under his skin, she won. But he couldn’t deny a momentary impulse to kiss her senseless for trying to play him.
“What will it be, Elena?” he pressed, keeping his voice even. “Talk or walk?”
“Very well.” She gestured with her hands, holding them up in a sign of surrender. “Spirit me away to your lair, Gage, and do with me what you will.” She tipped her head to one side, a thoughtful expression stealing across her face. “Oh, wait a minute.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “You don’t indulge your bad-boy side anymore, do you? Your father saw to that a long time ago, paying off all the questionable influences to leave his precious heir alone.”
The seductive, playful note in her voice was gone, a cold chill stealing into
her gaze.
He’d known she had an ax to grind with him after the way his father had bribed her to get out of his life.
He hadn’t realized how hard she’d come out swinging.
* * *
Elena followed Gage through his massive home on unsteady legs.
At well over six feet tall, he cut an imposing figure. His build was as formidable as ever, broad chest and muscular arms filling out his tuxedo. As she walked behind him, she could appreciate the way those broad shoulders narrowed to his waist, how his dark hair brushed the collar of his jacket. She caught a glimpse of the tattoos on his forearms just beneath his shirt cuffs. She used to love tracing the intricate colorful patterns there, asking him the stories behind each. And he would tell her, spinning tales of his past in the New Zealand accent that was an aphrodisiac to her. Or maybe it was just Gage—pure and simple. He could have spoken with a Southern drawl or a Boston accent, and she probably would have thought it the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.
He had affected her that way at one time.
She hadn’t been prepared for how seeing him would affect her now. Six years had passed since their relationship ended in an icy goodbye, with Gage believing his father’s story that she’d allowed herself to be paid off in order to leave Gage alone. She’d been so angry at his automatic condemnation that she hadn’t bothered to correct him. If he thought that poorly of her character, then he’d never really known her at all, and couldn’t have possibly loved her.
So she’d told herself that their split was a good thing. An eye-opening moment about someone she’d cared for deeply. She’d even been married since then, a colossal flop of an endeavor that had left her broke and humiliated. Her cooking-show-host husband had taken up with his assistant while Elena was out of town at a conference. She’d become a divorce cliché before she’d turned thirty.
