The Rogue's Fortune

by Cat Schield

  Damn. Tears piled up in her eyes. She blinked away the moisture and willed the elevator to arrive. Already she was running late for her evening with Roark. He was expecting her at his loft in ten minutes. She’d give just about anything to be heading home.

  They’d been out every night this week. Dinner with friends. A launch party for a socialite’s shoe line. A special gala to raise money for diabetes research. And last night, he’d taken her to a Knicks game at Madison Square Garden.

  Anywhere and everywhere they could be seen together.

  As the elevator deposited her on the first floor, Elizabeth pulled out her phone and dialed Roark’s number to let him know she was on her way at last. For a man who claimed to prefer an unfettered personal life, he’d demonstrated a protective streak.

  At some point in the past fifteen minutes since she’d looked outside, a snowstorm had kicked up outside. Fat, quarter-sized flakes drifted down. If she hadn’t been so darned tired, she might have enjoyed the beautiful scene. Instead, all she saw was the traffic snarled on the street before her. Catching a cab was going to be harder than she expected.

  Flinching at the damage she was about to do to her favorite pair of shoes, Elizabeth pushed open the door and was surprised to see Roark’s driver heading her way.

  “Good evening, Miss Minerva.”

  “Hello, Fred.” At the warmth of his smile, her throat tightened and tears sprang to her eyes. She was obviously more tired and overwrought than she thought.

  “Mr. Black sent me to fetch you. He thought you might have trouble catching a cab tonight.”

  She gave him a watery smile. “I was just thinking that exact thing.”

  They’d agreed to meet at his loft tonight rather than have him pick her up at work. Until her day fell apart, she’d hoped to get out at three, go home and grab an hour’s sleep before heading out for tonight’s clubbing.

  “Can you take me to my apartment so I can change?”

  “Mr. Black requested I bring you to him directly.”

  And so she was being kidnapped. Elizabeth settled back into the comfortable leather and watched the city slide past her window. The slow journey lulled her into closing her eyes. The sound of Fred’s voice awakened her.

  “We’re here, Miss Minerva.”

  She covered a jaw-cracking yawn with a gloved hand and swung her feet onto the pavement. “Thanks.”

  Groggy from her short nap, she half stumbled across the sidewalk and nodded to the doorman as she passed. When the elevator door opened, she was surprised to see Roark.

  “You were supposed to leave work at three.”

  Her heart thumped at his concern. She liked the way he worried about her. “Margo Hadwell is a demanding, difficult woman to plan a party for.”

  He tugged her into the elevator and pushed the button to take them to his floor. “You work too hard.”

  “I’m going to have to if I want Josie to make me a partner.”

  “How did your meeting with her go today?”

  Thanks to Roark, when she’d approached her boss about her future with Josie Summers’s Event Planning, Elizabeth had been ready to counter her boss’s speculation about Elizabeth’s surprise engagement.

  “She swallowed our story that we met at a club the last time you were in New York, and that we had a whirlwind affair. How we fell in love by email. The roses you sent me after the Banks wine auction helped sell it.” Elizabeth grinned in triumph. “After that, I was able to keep her focused through my entire proposal. She agreed to bring me on as partner, but only if I land Green New York’s spring gala.”

  Sponsored by the largest conservancy organization in the city, the gala was one of the must-attend events of the spring. Josie had pitched on it three years in a row without success. This year she’d challenged Elizabeth to do the impossible.

  “Whatever introductions you need, let me know.”

  “Thanks, but there’s more to winning the gala than just knowing the right people. I need to present the perfect proposal.”

  “You can do it.”

  Roark’s confidence in her abilities raised her spirits. He’d been so supportive, exactly the way she’d dreamed the man in her life would be. Only Roark wasn’t the man in her life. At least not in the traditional sense.

  Filled with conflicting emotions, Elizabeth twisted the engagement ring around her finger as Roark opened the door to his loft. She needed to keep her head in this game and ignore the messages from her heart. And by the looks of what Roark had planned for the evening, that was going to prove challenging.

  Candlelight illuminated the dining table, barely making a dent in the darkness filling the large open space. Soft music played. Intimate, romantic, staged for seduction.

  Elizabeth swallowed hard. “I thought we were supposed to go out tonight.”

  “You sounded tired when I spoke to you on the phone earlier. I figured we’d stay in tonight. Have a quiet dinner, just the two of us.”

  She should struggle to free herself from the spell he wrapped around her so effortlessly, but his hand, sliding into the small of her back, and her exhaustion undermined her willpower.

  “What about the club hopping we were supposed to do? You want us to be seen.”

  “We’ve been seen enough this week. Tonight, I want you to myself.”

  Treacherous delight stole through her. She cautioned herself to resist, but the intense light in Roark’s eyes weakened her resolve. “Dinner sounds nice, but I’m so tired I might fall asleep over dessert.”

  A crooked smile bloomed. “Sweetheart, if I have my way, you’ll be dessert.”

  His words seared through her like lightning, bringing her body to vibrant, tingling life.

  “That’s not funny.” Her voice shook.

  “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  “Roark.” Elizabeth’s feet remained glued to the floor as he headed toward the kitchen. “We’ve talked about this. I’m not going to sleep with you.”

  “Don’t make any decisions until you’ve tasted my lamb stew.”

  “You cooked?”

  Honestly, how much more could one girl withstand?

  “It relaxes me.”

  Without further argument, she let him tow her toward the table. The man was nearly impossible to resist. But she would keep up the battle until the last of her strength left her. She’d made a promise to herself. No more bad boys.

  But was Roark as bad as his reputation made him out to be?

  Or was she fooling herself instead of confronting reality? How many times had she coated her doubts about a boyfriend in iridescent layers of hope, transforming ugly and uncomfortable truth into pretty falsehoods she could live with. Trouble was the bad stuff wasn’t gone, only covered up by her optimism. Not this time.

  * * *

  “That was delicious.” Elizabeth gathered their plates and headed for the kitchen. “When did you learn to cook?”

  “Before I learned how to sneak out, I used to spend a fair amount of time in the kitchen with Rosie. Our cook.” Melancholy settled over Roark as it always did when he talked about what it had been like to grow up in a penthouse high above the bustle of New York.

  “What was your mother like?” Elizabeth looked contrite as soon as the words were said. “I’m sorry. If you’d rather not talk about her, I understand.”

  He shrugged. Talking about her had never been easy. His shame in leaving her the way he had was tied up in his resentment of how fiercely she’d sheltered him from the world, not understanding that an energetic boy needed activity and adventures.

  “She was smart and tough. I never understood why someone with her head for business and her iron will became like a terrified child outside her front door.”

  “Did something traumatic happen to her?”

  “Not that I ever found in her journals.” The square stem of the crystal wineglass felt cool against his fingertips as he spun the goblet and observed the play of candlelight in the facets. “She wrote about eve
rything else.”

  “If she never left her penthouse, how did she…”

  “Conceive me?” Even in the dim light, Roark couldn’t miss the color splashed over Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Unlike what we’re doing, I imagine she had sex with my father.”

  Her lips thinned at his mild censure. “But how did they meet?”

  Until Vance had entered his life four years ago with the tale that they were both sons of Edward Waverly, Roark hadn’t realized how deeply he’d buried his longing for a father. The hole in his psyche had gone unnoticed before he’d left for the marines, but he now understood that it had been a persistent ache he’d learned to ignore. After his military career ended, he’d focused his energy on the hunt for antiquities and used the thrill of success to keep all disquiet at bay.

  “My grandfather collected coins, some of them extremely valuable. After he died, my mother decided to sell his collection. She approached both Rothschild’s and Waverly’s. The representative from Waverly’s convinced her to let him auction the coins.”

  “You mean Edward Waverly.”

  Roark thought back to the journal entry from that day. His mother’s normally bold, confident penmanship had wobbled. Her crisp, matter-of-fact recounting of the day’s events had become somewhat disjointed when describing her meeting with Edward Waverly.

  “She never named him.” Roark thought about those passages. He’d scrutinized them over the years, looking for answers to his father’s identity. “A week later they were lovers.”

  “So fast?”

  “When he saw something he wanted, he went after it.” Roark caught Elizabeth’s hand and tugged her onto his lap. “That’s something we have in common.”

  She made no attempt to hide her dismay. “Strictly business, remember?”

  He bent down and kissed her tight lips. Almost immediately her spine lost its stiffness. Her hand crept over his shoulder and tangled in his hair. He smiled at her soft sigh of surrender. They’d been circling this moment for days, flirting with the attraction between them, testing the limits of restraint.

  “Forget business,” he murmured against her lips. “I want you.”

  Her body trembled. “I want you, too. But I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

  “This is a great idea. I thought so from the first second I laid eyes on you. Somehow, even from across the room I knew it would be like this between us. So damned hot.”

  He pulled her blouse free of her narrow skirt, fingers skimming past the silk hem. She gasped at the skin-on-skin contact. Her muscles tensed as he spread his fingers over her rib cage.

  His lips fastened over hers, swallowing her groan. With tongue and teeth he explored her mouth. The taste of her, the abandon with which she kissed him back. He wanted more. So much more. And so did she.

  Swirling sensation stole all rational thought. He focused all his attention on the woman in his arms.

  Blood pounded in his ears, driving his need for her higher.

  “Roark.” Elizabeth shifted on his lap. Her chest pumped as she sucked in an irregular breath. “Your phone is ringing.”

  “I don’t care.” He nuzzled her neck and smiled when she quivered.

  She got her hands between them and used his chest to lever herself off his lap. “What if it’s important? You should answer it.”

  Cursing, he let Elizabeth back away, but held her gaze. “You’re the only thing that’s important to me at the moment.”

  The phone stopped ringing before she could respond. They stared at each other for a series of heartbeats, anticipation building once again. His palms still tingled with lingering pleasure from the exploration of her lush curves. His chest burned from contact with her full breasts. If pressing against her drove him wild, what the hell was going to happen to him when he made love to her?

  He might never be the same.

  Roark took a single step in her direction and the silence was shattered by another round of ringing.

  “See.” Elizabeth looked toward the phone. “They’ve called back. You’d better find out who it is.

  He snatched up the phone. “Yes?”

  “Good evening, Mr. Black,” said the doorman. “Sorry for the interruption but the FBI is here. They want to speak with you.”

  Any hope Roark had of resuming their earlier activity vanished. “Send them up.”

  Elizabeth was watching him with a frown. “Should I go?” Her fingers shook as she stuffed her blouse back into her skirt and smoothed her hair.

  “No need.” He headed toward the door. “They won’t be here long.”

  “Who won’t?”

  “The FBI.”

  She stiffened. “Nine o’clock on a Friday night is a little past regular office hours.” Suspicion darkened her eyes. “What do they want with you?”

  “There are some questions surrounding the Gold Heart statue Waverly’s will be auctioning.”

  “What sort of questions?”

  “Whether it’s the same one stolen from Rayas.”

  “Is it?”

  Her distrust cut him like the sharpest dagger. “No.”

  Walls slid into place around his heart. The guarded sensation was familiar and reassuring. Talking to Elizabeth about his mother had been like unlocking a vault sealed for centuries. Some things were meant to remain undiscovered.

  “Why is the FBI talking to you?”

  Roark knew he’d lose ground with her if he brushed off her question. “Mallik Khouri accused me of stealing the statue from the palace.” Annoyed with the interruption and frustrated by the suspicion that shadowed Elizabeth’s eyes, he flung open the door. Voice dripping with sarcasm, he asked, “How can I help the FBI?”

  “We’ve had some new developments regarding the missing Gold Heart statue we need to discuss with you tonight.” Special Agent Matthews smiled at him from the hallway. Her lips bore a predatory curve.

  Behind her, Agent Todd slumped in his ill-fitting overcoat, his expression sullen, appearing as if he’d rather be home on such a miserable night.

  “Has the thief been caught?”

  “Let’s just say we’re pursuing a strong lead.” Agent Matthews’s gaze flicked into the apartment and spotted Elizabeth. “Sorry for the interruption.” She was anything but. A cat playing with a mouse. “May we come in?”

  They were wasting their time. Until the statue arrived in America, they had no reason to arrest him. The theft had taken place in Rayas. That crime was for the authorities in Rayas to prosecute. However, trafficking in stolen merchandise would interest the FBI. Good thing he didn’t do that sort of thing.

  “Have you spoken to Dalton Rothschild?” Roark asked, still blocking the agents from entering the loft. “If someone stole the Gold Heart, he would be my lead suspect.”

  “Funny,” Special Agent Matthews said. “That’s exactly what he said about you.”

  “We’d like you to come in and tell us where and how you came by the statue Waverly’s is planning to auction.” Special Agent Todd didn’t sound anywhere near as cordial as his words. They wanted answers and fast.

  “I can’t do that.” The statement had more bite than he intended. Usually he was happy to cooperate with the FBI, but they’d interrupted a very promising interlude and reinforced the wall of distrust between him and Elizabeth. Roark exhaled and forced down his irritation. “I’ve signed a confidentiality agreement.”

  “How convenient,” Agent Matthews drawled. “Let’s go see if we can find something you can discuss.”

  “I’m not telling you anything.”

  Agent Matthews gaze moved past him. “Perhaps your fiancée knows something. Shall we bring her in and see?”

  Roark ground his teeth. He didn’t want Elizabeth involved in this mess. “I’ll get my coat.”

  Triumph flashed in Agent Matthew’s eyes. “You do that.”

  Although Elizabeth had remained in the kitchen, he had no doubt that she’d heard the entire exchange. The way she wouldn’t meet his gaze as he neare
d spoke volumes.

  “I should head home.”

  “Stay,” he cajoled, cupping her face. “I’ll explain everything when I get back.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanations,” she murmured, but the way she clutched the dish towel in her hands made Roark wonder if it was his neck she wanted to wring.

  “Stay,” he repeated. “I won’t be long.”

  Her muscles softened minutely as he kissed her gently on the corner of her lips.

  “Okay.”

  Satisfied, he returned to the agents.

  “She seemed to need a lot of convincing to stick around,” Special Agent Matthews remarked as they headed down the hall. “Doesn’t she trust you?”

  “She trusts me,” he said as the elevator doors closed, trapping him in the small space with the two FBI agents. “It’s you she doesn’t trust.”

  “Really?” Matthews laughed. “And why is that?”

  “She seems to think your pursuit is overzealous. Like maybe you’ve got the hots for me and this case is just an excuse to spend time alone with me.”

  Agent Matthews laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “She has no need to worry on that score.”

  “You’re right about that. I’m a one-woman man and she’s the one woman for me.”

  “From what I’ve heard, everyone is surprised by your engagement.” Agent Matthews met Roark’s impassive stare with her laser-sharp gaze. “Why keep Ms. Minerva such a secret if you two were so in love?”

  “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a fan of gossip, Agent Matthews.” He accompanied his mocking words with a bland smile. “Do you have a pile of glossy magazines hidden away in your desk drawer?”

  “I don’t gossip, Mr. Black. I interview people for facts.”

  “And yet you’re suspicious over the fact that I didn’t flaunt my relationship with Elizabeth for the amusement of the New Yorkers that read Page Six.”

  While Agent Todd headed for the driver’s side, Agent Matthews opened the back of the black cruiser and gestured Roark inside. “I’m suspicious over the timing of your engagement. It certainly has taken the focus off the Gold Heart statue.”

  Roark paused with his hand on the door and offered a sardonic grin. “What a cynic you are, Agent Matthews. Don’t you realize that love finds you when you least expect it?”