by Marie Kelly
Billionaire ’ s Revenge
by
Marie Kelly
Chapter One
Sara Balfour stood in the large elegant ballroom, feeling uncomfortable and awkward as her eyes scanned the room; her teeth savaged the softness of her bottom lip as she waited. Time and again she had been approached by men, their suave smiles barely hiding the lecherous looks in their eyes as they tried to engage her in conversation, each and every one having to give up as she brushed off their well-practiced pick-up lines. Flicking a look at her watch, her stomach clenched into a tight knot of nerves and tension as she waited - waited to see the one person who held so much power over her family’s future.
Movement on stage finally heralded the main event of the night: the keynote speech of the CEO and main shareholder of the Garelli Corporation, the man she had come to see that night. Sara had researched the head of the Garelli Empire, an older stately man, his online pictures portraying a handsome distinguished man in his sixties, her eyes that evening scanning the area continuously for him in the hope of being able to talk with him prior to his speech.
The emcee moving forward had once more brought her attention to the stage as he began his introduction, giving a brief history of the CEO and his many accomplishments. Sara was not really listening as she flicked her look around the side of the stage, a small frown knitted onto her smooth forehead. Stepping back she took a deep steadying breath, not concentrating on those around her as she collided into the arms of a man moving forward. Quickly spinning round with an apologetic look on her lovely features, she was aware as the man pushed out a steadying hand, his fingers warm as they wrapped around her arm, his handsome features smiling down at her as he mumbled a soft apology back, his voice deep and sensual. She took in the way his eyes slid down her with interest, appreciating the stunning woman before him before they reached her lovely face. His look changed, a note of confusion entered the darkest eyes she had ever seen, eyes familiar to her as she stared back at him in stunned disbelief.
“Darius?” the soft almost inaudible name escaped her shocked lips as he looked more carefully back, his warm eyes becoming cold and hard as recognition finally hit him. “Sara!” her name bitten out contemptuously as the speaker finished his introduction, his voice hardly registering to Sara as she stared back at the man she had known so many years before.
“So give a big hand for the Chief Executive Officer of Garelli Corporation, Mr Darius Garelli” A spontaneous eruption of applauding hands broke through the mesmerized way the two stared at the other. Pulling his eyes from her, his body stiff, he moved forward, quickly ascending the steps at the side of the stage. Sara stood in stunned shock, nausea filling her as she watched Darius Garelli - a man she had known as Darius Larosa - take his rightful place before the throng of rich partygoers.
Lifting a shaky hand to her forehead, she felt the despondency roll over her, the despair of knowing that it was finished, that her family’s last hope had been dashed away. She swallowed hard to hold back the tears which burned the back of her eyes. They were doomed, there was no salvation to be found at the hands of the man who after talking to one of his security guards moved with all the grace and confidence of a panther to begin his speech, as Sara once more flicked a stunned look down his wonderful body.
With a definitive movement she tore her eyes from him, turning with determination, defeat sitting heavily on her, as she pushed her way through the multitude of bodies which swarmed forward to hear the great man talk. Sara needed to be out of there, needed to put as much distance between herself and Darius Garelli as she could. Reaching the door, the security guard she had witnessed him talking to moved before her, blocking her way, his stance foreboding as he politely but firmly spoke to her. “Mr Garelli would like you to wait for him in his private office Miss”
Shaking her head firmly Sara refused to be intimidated by the tall man, her hand reached out to pull open the door. “I don’t think so. Please tell Mr Garelli that I politely declined his offer”, moving forward as the security man continued, a small almost unperceivable twitch of his lips the only real sign he heard her. “I was told that if you felt that way to say to you: ‘Paxton Holdings’”
The two words froze her to the spot, her eyes flying around to stare in disbelief at the man on the stage. A short video was playing and while the throng watched it, his eyes were focussed solely on her, their eyes colliding, his look unwavering and cold. Sara felt the pain wash through her. He knew. He knew everything. Pulling her look from him, her shoulders sagged in defeat as she nodded to the security guard, her posture and expression an admission of surrender as she allowed the door to close, before moving behind the guard to another entrance, the sounds of the presentation disappearing as she was led to the elevator.
As they made their way up within the marbled and opulent elevator, she felt sick. She had been sure that if she could get the CEO of Garelli Corporation alone, and talk to him about her problem, that she could buy the family some time, that the billionaire businessman would understand and support the family. However, that hope had been dashed the minute she discovered who the CEO now was. Darius Garelli would take great pleasure in destroying them all, coldness seeping into every part of her.
The ping of the elevator door heralding their arrival pulled her thoughts back, as with head held high she followed the guard, the realisation hitting her that they were on the top level of the exclusive five-star hotel. When the doors opened, she had been ushered into the large penthouse suite, her eyes staring in wonder at the surroundings, knowing that this was his private suite, the room he was staying at, this knowledge filling her with even more discomfort.
Ushered into what appeared to be a study, the guard told her to help herself to a drink before moving back out, the click of the front door the only sound, leaving Sara alone, alone with her thoughts and ghosts of the past. Finally she sank into the large overstuffed leather armchair, her head falling in her hands as the memories of the past flooded back.
Six years ago Sara had been 18. About to go to university, she spent the summer working in the main office of her late father’s construction business. She was shy and awkward about the way she looked, her sister often teasing her about her braces and too-skinny body and she had kept to herself. Her sister Angela was the complete opposite. Older and working in the office full-time with no desire to go off to university she was gregarious, her stunning figure and long auburn hair and good looks making her popular with the many contractors who would pass through. None more so than Nick Paxton, the owner of a small joinery company. While Angela had been initially interested in Nick, a man Sara disliked, not quite sure what it was about him that made her uncomfortable, the arrival of the gorgeous and seductively dangerous Darius Larosa soon wiped out any other man from her sister’s thoughts.
Sara was embarrassed to watch the way Angela threw herself so blatantly at the builder, brought in to help with some issue requiring a more specialised contractor. He was a hard worker, his ideas and solutions a godsend to the project he was working on, nobody more thankful than Angela as she fawned over him, her eyes promising so much every time that he would appear in the office.
He however, had been polite and distant with her sister, often choosing instead to deal with Sara. She had been nervous of the devastatingly handsome man, older than her - then in his mid-twenties. She was never really sure what to say or do when he would smile so warmly at her, his dark eyes holding her large blue ones which she hid behind sensible glasses, required when she was working on her computer, which in the office was all of the time.
Three months into his contract, money had gone missing - lots of money. A search of lockers found some it, the serial numbers given to t
hem by the bank, along with a key for her father’s office and the security safe, all tucked away in a hidden compartment in his locker.
Her father was furious. Not a man who put up with betrayal, it had taken all her persuasion for him not to call the police there and then and have Darius arrested. Sara, however, never felt that he stole the money and pled for hours on his behalf, only gaining her father’s support after telling him that it might cause a scandal. Her family were mainstays of the conservative and proper establishment in the area, and her father was always careful about how his family was presented in the eyes of these stuffy judgemental people. He forced Sara to be the one to fire Darius, his way of punishing her for taking the Italian’s side. After she had, she had never forgotten the shock on his handsome face, or the anger as he professed his innocence. She however, held firm, informing him that if he did not leave then they would involve the police. Darius welcomed the police involvement, until she explained the evidence against him, remembering the way his mouth set in such an angry line, his eyes flints of cold rage as he declared that he had been set up. While secretly she agreed with him, she said nothing, knowing that the police were very much on the side of her father and she feared that he would not get a fair hearing.
Lifting her head, she gave a small groan. His last words to her had been that he would make them pay, that one day her whole family would pay for that day, the softness of his tone, with the hint of his Italian accent, adding to the vehemence of his statement. With an ironic curl of her lip she knew that that day had finally come. Darius would have his revenge, and her family would be destroyed.
Moving over to the drinks table, she poured herself a shot of straight vodka, downing the liquid in one gulp, gasping as the spirit burnt its way down her throat. Not one to normally drink, she felt the need for something to calm the way her whole body trembled as she waited for the ax to fall, the dread filling her more with each second that slipped away.
The fact he still harboured his grudge against her family was evident from the coldness of his look as they bumped in to each other, and her ‘invite’ to his suit she realised; a small panicky laugh bubbled up inside her as she dreaded his return. Something about the situation seemed so ‘meant to be’, she thought. Six years ago it had been her dishing out the punishment to the man who would soon enjoy doling out far worse to her.
Moving back to the seat, she stumbled on the long skirt of the dress she borrowed to allow her to attend that night’s event. She wanted to kick off the uncomfortable stilettos, but knew that when he did finally appear, she needed as much height to face him as possible. Sitting back down, she waited, waited for nearly an hour, each minute stretching her already taut nerves further and further to the breaking point.
The sound of the door being opened saw her leap to her feet, her body spinning round to face the man who entered, his stance relaxed and sure, hers stiff, coiled with the tension which filled her. “Why did you have your trained goon bring me here?”, she demanded, her voice higher and shriller than she intended, her attempt at sounding calm and cool failing even to her own ears.
Raising an eyebrow in mockery Darius Garelli moved over to the drinks table. “I think we both know why you AGREED to come to this room”, his tone smooth as he threw some ice-cubes into two glasses before pouring whiskey into one and vodka and fresh orange into another. As he did this, Sara fought to bring her breathing under control, her heart beating erratically in her chest as her eyes followed his every sure movement. Under her lashes she allowed her gaze to admire him.
He had always been handsome, but dressed in the tuxedo; the darkness of it only accentuated his good looks. His tall broad-shouldered slim-hipped frame filled the outfit so well, he was devastating. His slightly tousled hair was shorter than he used to wear it, but it was still thick and glossy, the front still looking as though it had defied his will for it to sit perfectly. The memory returned of the many times as a young woman this had made her want to reach up and fix it by running her fingers through it, the realisation that she wanted to touch him even then suddenly shocking to her. Dropping her gaze in confusion at the jolt of awareness that shot through her, she stepped back as he moved towards her, before he thrust one of the glasses into her trembling hands.
“If I remember correctly this was what you used to drink” Sara did not speak as she dumbly nodded, surprised that he would remember such a minuscule detail about her. Raising his glass, he took a sip of the golden liquid, his eyes unblinking as they watched her, those eyes glacial, taking in everything about her - his look predatory, the thought sending another tremor through her.
Silently, she took a large gulp of her drink before carefully placing it on the table beside him, seeing as for the first time his eyes held humour, relishing her discomfort she knew. Placing his drink beside hers he moved around her, his eyes openly running up and down her body, Sara feeling the heat flood her cheeks at his disrespectful scrutiny.
“So little Sara Balfour…all grown up”, stopping only feet before her. “And how you have grown up”, the innuendo so clear on his tone, Sara feeling the prickling anger give her the strength to stand taller. She had cursed Angela for talking her into wearing the cocktail dress, one that she would never have chosen. The front plunged as the material wrapped around her, clearly showing her cleavage, her breasts pulled together in the underwear her sister had chosen for her. Fighting hard not to cover herself with her hand she glared back at him.
“Don’t play with me Darius…I came here to talk to the CEO of Garelli Corporation. I didn’t realise it was you”, her voice full of the disappointment and despair she felt. “You changed your name”, her tone accusing as he gave a small smile. “I took my father’s name”, he explained, moving to lean against the table, Sara so unaware as she gave a sigh of relief at even this little bit more space between them. “He made it worth my while”, his voice tinged with an anger she did not understand. Taking another sip of his drink, he scrutinized her as his eyes again slid over her wonderful figure.
“So how exactly did you plan on getting the CEO of Garelli Corporation to hold back from throwing your sister into jail?” The question made her wince before her cheeks once more stained pink as he again rose, his finger gently running along her naked arm. “Because how can you be so sure that I might not be open to the same kind of persuasion?”
Gasping in indignation, she took a quick step back, her heel catching on the hem of her skirt as she lost her balance, his hands shooting out to grab her shoulders, keeping her from falling. As she once more regained her balance, he continued to hold her, his thumb now gently stroking the soft flesh, Sara’s mouth suddenly so dry. Standing, he towered over her, his eyes dropped to her cleavage. Trying to pull her arms from him she felt the heat of panic rising from her belly.
“Th…Thank you. I’m fine now” She tried to pull her arms from his hold, Darius’ fingers only digging harder into her soft flesh, a wolfish smile lighting his features. “Yes…I might very well be interested in that kind of persuasion”, he murmured softly. A loud gasp left her as he hauled her harder up against him. Sara only just managed to bring her arms between them, her fingers feeling the hardness of his chest, praying that he would not feel the way her heart was beating furiously within her breasts, their bodies tight together.
“Stop this”, she hissed at him, her voice quivering with fear, the fear of her own reaction being so close to him was rising within her. She felt as his head dipped his nose and mouth trailing along the long naked curve of her neck. Sara again wishing that she had not allowed herself to be talked into having her long blonde hair piled high on her head, longing for its protection as tremors made her whole body shake, the small pulse on her throat beating alarmingly.
His small laugh against her skin only made the trembling worse, as she stared helplessly at the ceiling, her hands trying to push herself from him, desperation setting in. Then just as suddenly as he grabbed her, she was free as he pushed her from him, once mor
e stepping back and nonchalantly leaning against the desk. His eyes surveyed the reaction of the woman before him, a small smile of satisfaction lighting the corners of his handsome mouth. “Same old Sara Balfour, cold heartless bitch. Every bit her daddy’s girl”
Sara fought hard to stop the hot tears which stung the back of her eyes from spilling over her eyelids. She was nothing like her father. Her whole life she had been his constant disappointment. To him she had not been as pretty as Angela, or as sociable. She did not have all of the right boys rushing to their doorstep with marriage proposals. Her determination not to give up on her dream of university to work in the company was a decision her father sneered at, his derision of her no secret. To be likened to the detestable man she grew up with hurt, but dropping her eyes she fought to hide her pain from the man before her. Needing to gain more control, she finally allowed her look to become harder and once more in charge of her emotions, she lifted her eyes to his.
“Thank you”, she bit out, her tone full of challenge, seeing as his eyes flashed dangerously. She instinctively knew that he meant to move back towards her just as the intercom sounded, the voice on the other end stalling him. “Sir the ambassador is about to leave” She saw as his look flew from her to the intercom, a frown creasing his forehead as he swore softly under his breath before his hardened look once more rested on her, his tone demanding and arrogant. “I have something to deal with. Wait here”
Standing, he then made to move to the door as Sara turned abruptly, her eyes flashing with anger. “I am not some little lap dog for you to order about. You have already kept me waiting here for an hour. There seems very little point in my waiting here for you to enjoy humiliating me” Darius stopped short of the door, slowly turning to face her. No more was there any humour in his voice as he responded so coldly, “You have no idea what real humiliation is Miss Balfour. Your whole life you have been cosseted and spoiled, but if you don’t want your sister to be sitting in a jail cell by this time tomorrow night then you will damn well will do as I tell you”, his eyes boring into hers, “Is that very clear?”
