The Pinnacles of Power
Dangerous Proposition
When Julia Dyson learns her father has been abducted, she believes his hidden profession may be to blame. But when she discovers a man’s name in her dad's caller history, a man suspected of shady business activity and also her teenage crush, she decides to take matters into her own hands. She confronts her father's presumed abductor, resulting in an unforgettable kiss.
In the course of one disastrous evening, diamond smuggling kingpin Colin Westwood learns that his best recruit is missing in action, and that the man has been keeping a secret for years—he has a twenty-six-year-old daughter. Determined to protect his identity, Colin vows to find the young woman, and keep her silent at any cost. Later intrigued to learn that she is actually the attractive woman he kissed, he makes Julia an offer. Come to New York City with him to search for her missing father…as his mistress.
Genre: Contemporary, Romantic Suspense
Length: 92,003 words
DANGEROUS PROPOSITION
The Pinnacles of Power
Jessica Lauryn
ROMANCE
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A SIREN-BOOKSTRAND TITLE
IMPRINT: Romance
DANGEROUS PROPOSITION
Copyright © 2013 by Jessica Lauryn
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62740-043-5
First E-book Publication: June 2013
Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
www.BookStrand.com
DEDICATION
For Dad.
DANGEROUS PROPOSITION
The Pinnacles of Power
JESSICA LAURYN
Copyright © 2013
Chapter 1
“Dear God. Do you think they killed him?” Julia Dyson asked, unable to take her eyes off the center of her father’s ransacked office, the mess of white papers that covered the floor, and the crimson bloodstain on the desk chair. She clutched tightly to the cell phone in her hand. She had discovered the little piece of technologically-advanced equipment moments earlier in the hall, still warm from the last call her father had made with it.
Her eyes were fixed on the open window behind the desk. As she stared at it, her heart began to pound.
Had her father been murdered? Shot through the heart, stabbed to death with a knife? Though there was more than enough evidence to confirm either suspicion, the possibilities seemed terrifying. Feeling as though her insides were going to come through her throat, Julia put a hand over her open mouth, coming back against the wall behind her.
Her father was no longer in his office. Whether he was alive or dead, she and Abigail had looked over every inch of the place during the last several minutes. Her dad’s car was in the parking lot, but there was nothing else in the three hundred square feet of space but the expensive furniture.
Taking a few deep breaths, Julia attempted to cool her racing mind. Finding it impossible to do so, she took several more and waited for the calming effect of them to kick in.
Just fifteen minutes ago, she and Abigail had been discussing what movie they were going to see with her dad. Now, as the panic subsided, Julia was beginning to consider something she’d been trying hard to ignore. Her father had been keeping secrets about the nature of his work for years. She couldn’t say for sure what those secrets were, but there were definitely things he hadn’t said, things he’d never admitted but that she’d always been aware of. Late-night meetings, untraceable calls—the man was probably holding more illicit information than an undercover cop.
More than likely, one of those skeletons had finally caught up with him. But could his attacker really be the last man who’d called his phone?
Afraid to learn the answer to that question, Julia clasped the back of the desk chair. Seeing the phone’s screen in her mind, the name of the last person to officially call her dad, she swallowed hard. Fighting the notion that they may have just found his assailant, she struggled to bring to mind whatever good things she could about the man in question.
Colin Westwood was practically a legend in North Conway. Dubbed a hero by his fellow workers, the guy had saved more lives in the operating room than any ten doctors combined. Maybe Colin was helping her father. Say, he was going in for a bypass.
But Julia found it pretty difficult to believe that her father would have agreed to undergo a life-threatening operation without at least giving her a heads up. Since the day her Mom left home, when Julia was just three years old, she and her dad had shared everything with one another. Everything, that was, except the details of whatever mysterious business venture he’d been involved with during the last five years, apparently.
“Julia, I know you’re upset. But the best way that we can help your dad right now is to focus. Now, Colin Westwood has been accumulating wealth for years, and a lot more of it than any physician I’ve ever heard of.” Abigail Newberry, Julia’s best friend since Kennett High School, had the look of a reporter who’d just solved the murder mystery of the century about her big brown eyes. “They say Leighton Westwood disowned Colin and Alec after they refused to work for his company.”
Julia shook her head, wondering whether there was a method to Abigail’s mad theory or whether her friend was simply letting her imagination get the best of her again. She did pay a decent amount of attention to local gossip, but she’d always assumed it was merely a rumor that Prince William and Prince Harry had been disinherited, as they both still resided comfortably in the family castle.
The fact that Colin Westwood had been the last person to talk to her father on the phone before he disappeared didn’t necessarily prove he was his attacker. Or that he was involved in her father’s disappearance at all. But it didn’t exactly prove the guy was innocent.
Seconds later, Abigail stepped beside her. Unlike herself, Julia’s best friend was small-boned and on the short side. Her yellow-blonde bob came just past her shoulders.
“I can hardly believe I didn’t figure this out years ago,” Abigail said. “The doctor thing must be a façade, or at least, it can’t be the only way the Westwood brothers are maximizing their bank accounts.”
Sweat loomed above Julia’s brows. The theory was plausible, but she was far from ready to face the possibility. It was likely that Abigail had just hit the truth on the head. But this wasn’t just any mystery they were attempting to solve.
If her dad was involved with some sort of underground organization, then the man Julia had trusted for the last twenty-six years was a criminal. And another man, one she had once greatly admired, was her father’s kidnapper.
“Come on.” Unwilling to stand around speculating possibilities while her father sat tied to a pole on the floor of some basement, she started for the door. “I’ll drive us to the police station.”
“Julia! Your dad’s office is a crime scene. There’s all sorts of evidence here, including that phone you just put down on the desk. Don’t you think it would be better if we call 911 and have the cops come over here and search the place?”
That did seem logical. She could understand why Abigail would see it that way. Turning back, Julia offered an apologetic shrug. “The police station’s just around the corner.”
Abigail narrowed her eyes. “Yes it is, but I know you well enough to know when you’re being less than honest with me. You never shy away from a challenge, especially when it concerns someone you love. That cell phone is going to raise some eyebrows, Julia. God knows the police are going to want answers. Is there some reason you don’t want to confront Colin Westwood?”
A hot shiver ran up Julia’s spine. She had caught a glimpse of Colin Westwood during a few chance opportunities when she was a teenager. A burning influx of fantasies had followed the event.
Julia had never been one to fall for the shirt-and-tie type. But that all changed the day she spotted Colin Westwood collecting money for his father at the Westwood Inn. Standing something over six feet tall, Colin had a strikingly powerful presence that commanded the attention of every person in the room. Hair the color of midnight and eyes like blue gemstones had sent goose bumps along her arms, and probably every other woman within a hundred feet. She’d often envisioned him tossing aside that checkbook he always held, sweeping her into his arms, and carrying her up the hotel lobby staircase.
Drawing her from her thoughts, Abigail offered a sly smile. She allowed Julia to step past her as the two of them exited the room.
As they hurried to the car, Abigail seemed to be struggling to hold something back. Getting beside Julia’s silver Camry, it appeared as though she’d finally decided to spit out whatever it was. “I seriously doubt Colin Westwood would remember a maid at one of his father’s hotels, even if she did knock a supply cart down a flight of stairs.”
Julia bit her tongue. With her head held high, she climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.
When she had taken a job—her very first job—at the Westwood Inn that summer, her only priority had been raising enough money to buy a car. But when she caught a glimpse of the owner’s exceedingly handsome son, everything had changed.
For nearly three months, Julia had worked like a banshee every day, trying to clean her assigned rooms as fast as she could manage, making sure always to be done before three, when she knew Colin would be coming by to collect the daily earnings.
Spotting him in his typical place beside the front desk one afternoon, she’d stopped for her usual secret viewing. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he’d somehow looked more devastating than ever.
As was typically the routine, she had expected Colin would sign for his father’s money and be on his merry way. But instead of leaving, he’d turned and set his incredible blue eyes on her. And then he’d done something she never saw coming.
He’d smiled at her.
It had been the most incredible moment of Julia’s young life. At least, it had started out that way. Eyes locked with Colin’s baby blues, her body was shaking so hard that she was hardly aware of her own movements. She supposed that was why she hadn’t known her pant leg was caught beneath the wheel of the supply cart.
As she stepped forward, the cart jolted, tearing the left leg of her khakis. She’d tried to stop it, but the enormous thing was too heavy. It had rolled down the staircase, sending two hundred or so sample-sized soaps and shampoos scattering across the carpet. By the time she’d reached the first floor, her prince was nowhere to be found.
“I have no problem whatsoever confronting Colin Westwood,” Julia said, speeding out of the empty parking lot. “I’d just prefer not to do it on an empty stomach.”
“Well, that’s certainly a relief,” Abigail said. “I’m glad to know you’re not planning on abandoning your inner bounty hunter when you need her the most. The Westwoods are having a party tonight. I think it’s the perfect opportunity to ambush your suspect.”
Julia slammed hard on the break, catching sight of an unexpected squirrel scampering across the pavement. “How do you know about that?”
“The entire town of North Conway knows about it,” Abigail said. “Besides, Colin Westwood is a friend of Ryan’s. Colin does usually invite him to these things, not that Ryan has much interest in talking shop with a bunch of medical tycoons.”
It was hard to believe Abigail’s down-to-earth husband was friends with Colin Westwood. Someone whose parents had worked two jobs just to pay the bills hardly seemed like a match for a man whose father owned half the town.
Julia wasn’t exactly a history buff, but she knew a few things about the residents of North Conway, particularly those like the Westwoods, who were talked about the most. Leighton Westwood was a wealthy Irishman who’d married an even wealthier Englishwoman named Elizabeth, after coming to the United States. Most said the man was a corporate genius, and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Leighton Westwood owned more businesses than most entrepreneurs on Wall Street.
Colin was Leighton’s firstborn son. And though Colin had shocked the entire town by becoming a doctor instead of joining the family business, Julia found it hard to believe that the man hadn’t been influenced by his luxurious surroundings.
Maybe Colin had taken to pulling in extra cash by working for the same underhanded cause as her dad. And when things hadn’t gone his way, he’d decided to eliminate the competition.
The idea left her horror-stricken.
As if she’d read her mind, Abigail took the phone they’d discovered and pressed a few buttons. Julia could practically hear her friend’s mouth falling open from where she was sitting.
She veered to the side of the road. “What’s wrong? Did you find something?”
With widened eyes, Abigail held up the cell phone. “The last call made to this phone isn’t the only one Colin Westwood is responsible for.”
“There are more?”
“Try all of them.”
Julia swallowed, fighting with every fiber of her being to ignore the dread that was gnawing at her gut. All consideration that Colin might be her father’s doctor was completely gone.
She took the phone from Abigail’s hand. Facing the road ahead, she slipped it into her pocket. “Mind if I drop you off at your place? There’s a man I need to see about an abduction.”
Chapter 2
Hundreds of young men and women were scattered across the pavilion. The majority of them were heavily intoxicated. Their conversation created a hum that could undoubtedly be heard all over North Conway.
Colin Westwood stood on the grass behind his mansion, watching from several feet away as his foolhardy younger brother gave that wife of his a kiss that initiated more than a few whispers. Turning at an angle, he rolled his eyes. For the third consecutive Saturday night in a row, his brother and sister-in-law’s decision to throw a party had just put a hell of a damper on his plans.
It wasn’t as if he had somewhere more important to be. But standing in the middle of a crowd of drunken gold diggers didn’t exactly give him a lot of privacy.
His mood lifted temporarily as two pretty young women, whose names he couldn’t seem to remember, shot him a couple of flirtatious waves. The women were curvaceous and th
in, though not as tall as he preferred. The one to his right had a killer set of legs, and the blonde could melt the arctic with her smile. Turning toward them, Colin offered a slow, suggestive grin. The irritating sound of a grunt nipped his perfect plan in the bud.
Anxious to be through with the inevitable, he turned to the man standing beside him. Desmond McGrath, one of his trusted employees, was a young man of keen intellect and absolutely no common sense.
“Whatever this is about, it can wait until tomorrow,” Colin whispered sharply. He turned from the crowd, indicating with a swift gesture of his hand that Desmond should follow suit. “In case you weren’t aware, Mr. and Mrs. Love-Struck are entertaining half the state of New Hampshire in my backyard tonight.”
Contrasting drastically from his typical groomed stance, Colin’s square-chinned, small-framed assistant looked up at him. An exceptional amount of fear quaked in his gray eyes. “Tucker’s gone,” he said in a whisper.
Colin shifted his arm, wondering whether he’d been leaning up against the side of the house for too long, or whether he felt a heart attack coming on.
Tucker was his second in command. Hell, the man probably had more confidential information floating around in his head than he did. Either Desmond’s poor sense of humor had finally taken a terminal dip, or else the world was about to collapse beneath both of them.
Snatching his counterpart by the shoulder, Colin strode in the direction of the patio door. Certain they were out of earshot, he loosened his grip. “What do you mean, gone?”
“I mean, one minute the guy was checking in with me, and the next he stopped returning my calls. I’ve been trying to track him down for two days. No one on the inside knows where he is. At least, no one claims to know.”
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