The Dangerous Billionaire

by Jackie Ashenden

A featureless black key card sat on the table.

  Van picked it up, staring at his brother. “You sure?”

  “Yes.” There was another flicker in his brother’s eyes. “You need to keep her safe, and I’ve got lots of extra security features installed. No one is going to get in who shouldn’t be there.”

  Knowing Lucas, Van could well imagine that the “extra security features” were going to make the place like Fort Knox. Which was exactly what he wanted.

  Shooting Chloe a glance, he raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?” Not that she was going to get much of a choice about where they were going to go, since Lucas’s place was their best and safest bet. But hell, she’d wanted some input into the decision, so some input she’d get.

  “Why can’t we go back to Wyoming?” There was a rebellious jut to her chin and a lingering fire in her dark eyes. Clearly she wasn’t happy about it.

  “Because I have to stay in the city. Got too much shit with Tate Oil to deal with.”

  She pulled a face. “You can’t send me home with a few more guards or something?”

  Oh no, they weren’t have this discussion again. Van gave her a hard stare, which made her expression turn mutinous, but mercifully she didn’t say anything.

  “I can’t offer to be around,” Lucas went on, ignoring their interchange. “I’ve got my own shit to deal with right now. But if you need anything, Van, just let me know.” His gaze wasn’t precisely warm—with Lucas it never was—but something intent gleamed there all the same.

  Van knew what it was. Lucas might keep his emotions locked down so tight he may as well not have any, but the guy always had Van’s back and always would. There was a bond between them—and Wolf too—a bond forged way back in that boys home, when Van had found one of the new kids, a skinny little blond boy crying one night in his bed. Van had been eight, already in care for a couple of years after his mom and dad had both died from overdoses, and when he’d discovered that the blond kid had lost his family to a fire, he’d decided, being older, that he would protect him.

  He’d been protecting his brothers ever since.

  Wolf cursed under his breath, then said, “Fucking Lucas, showing me up.” He glanced at Chloe briefly then back at Van. “I gotta go, man. But you know where I’ll be if you need anything.”

  “Yeah. I do.” And he did. Wolf had his back, too, no matter how much the guy ostensibly complained. Of course, both brothers should be instantly in his face about keeping Chloe safe, and he didn’t know what to think about the fact that they weren’t. Then again, he wasn’t sure if he wanted them involved anyway. The job of protecting Chloe had been given to him and even though he wasn’t happy with it, he felt strangely territorial about it all the same.

  “Hey,” Wolf went on, looking at Chloe. “Van’s got my number. Get him to give it to you so you know who to call in an emergency, okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “Me too,” Lucas added. “If Van’s down or there’s an issue and he’s not around, I’ll try to get there as soon as I can.”

  Van made a note to program both numbers into Chloe’s phone ASAP. But first, they needed to get her to Lucas’s place and fast.

  Five minutes later, Lucas having given him the address, Van shoved back his chair and stood up. “We better get going.” He gave his brothers a look. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but I’m going to need you both to stay in touch, understand? There’s this takeover happening, lots of shit going down, and we need to be ready for it.”

  Wolf grimaced and looked away, his jaw tight. And there was a moment when Van thought he might offer to stay, but he didn’t, remaining silent instead.

  It wasn’t like him and it made Van wonder whether he should be insisting his brother remain in New York and help. But no, that territorial need had him in its grip, insisting that protecting Chloe was his job, no one else’s.

  So all he did was nod once at his youngest brother, glance briefly at Lucas in a silent thank-you, and turn to Chloe.

  She was sitting there with her gaze on the table, her face pale, something a little bit lost in her expression. Something a little bit vulnerable. It made him automatically reach out for her hand.

  Her eyes widened, making him suddenly aware of what he was doing. A small shock went through him. What the hell was he thinking now? After that moment in the car, touching her was a mistake and he knew it. Yet he didn’t take his hand away. He didn’t know why she was looking so fragile all of a sudden, but he wanted her to know that he was here. Wanted to give her some reassurance, to feel those delicate, slender fingers in his and the slight pressure of her grip. Wanted to feel her holding onto him.

  You can’t do this. You got Sofia to trust you and look what happened to her.

  Yes, he knew that. Just like he knew his brothers were watching him in surprise and probably wondering what the fuck was going on. But suddenly he didn’t care. She looked like she needed something and he wanted to give it.

  He met her gaze. “Come on, pretty. Time to go.”

  An expression lingered in her eyes, one he didn’t recognize. Then she blinked, looking at his hand outstretched in front of her. And for a moment he thought she wouldn’t do it, that she’d be stubborn and refuse. But then slowly she took it, her fingers sliding between his, her hold light but firm.

  A surge of electricity went through him at the touch of her skin against his, an intense kind of possessiveness filling him. Yes, she had needed something. She’d needed him.

  Let her go, you stupid fuck. This should only be about protecting her.

  Yet he didn’t. And as she got to her feet, Van only firmed his grip.

  Then, ignoring his brother’s stares, he led her out of the pub.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Chloe walked into the main living room of Lucas’s penthouse and stared up through the skylights that let the gray New York afternoon flood in.

  The penthouse was as different from the Tate mansion as it was possible to get, all pristine white walls and dark, hardwood flooring. There was no art to speak of and no comfortable furniture. In fact, there was barely any furniture at all—a couple of chairs in the open-plan living/dining area, a small table down one end, and a couple of stainless steel barstools pulled up to the kitchen island counter.

  It was a beautiful place, but it had a bleak feel to it with nothing but that cold, gray light coming in from above.

  She could hear Van’s footsteps go down the hallway as he began scouting out the place—looking at the security or so he said. But that was good, she needed a couple of minutes of silence and stillness to stand there and think.

  Mainly about why the hell she’d reached out and taken his hand.

  She didn’t understand the impulse that had made her do it. It was only that the way the three of them had sat there talking with one another had made her feel kind of … alone. There had been undercurrents there, references to things she didn’t know about, unspoken looks that told of experiences she hadn’t shared. They knew each other in a way she never had and probably never would.

  It had made her throat get tight, made her wish she was part of the connection that flowed between her foster brothers, that she was included in that sense of togetherness. She’d tried not to let it matter to her, tried not to care, because shit, she was part of something at the ranch. No, she’d never made particular friends with anyone there, but then she hadn’t felt like she’d needed to. The running of the place consumed all her time so she’d never felt lonely, and besides, when she needed someone to talk to, the best and most patient ears in the place were the horses.

  Yet despite all of that, she couldn’t get rid of the ache in her heart as the brothers talked to one another, sharing a connection she wasn’t part of, or the horrible isolated feeling turning over and over inside her. Then Van had held out his hand, the look in his eyes understanding. As if he’d known exactly what was going on with her. And even though she knew she shouldn’t, she hadn’t
been able to stop herself from lacing her fingers through his, craving the warmth of his skin, the feel of a connection she’d been denied all her life.

  Chloe swallowed, staring at the heavy gray sky above her.

  The reality, though, was that it wasn’t Wolf or Lucas she wanted to feel closer to. She didn’t know them. She didn’t have the same childhood memories of them that she had of Van, and they hadn’t been there for her the way he had.

  Van would always be someone special to her, and whether she liked it or not, being in his presence constantly was turning him into something even more than that. Making her want things she’d told herself firmly that she didn’t need.

  Yeah, it was a problem and she didn’t know what to do about it.

  “It’s all looking secure.” Van’s deep voice came from behind her. “There’s a bedroom down the hallway that’s a guest room, so why don’t you go settle in? Looks like Lucas didn’t keep much in the fridge so I’ll go out and get a few essentials while you do that.”

  Her hand tingled, the remembered heat of his fingers closing around hers lingering.

  “Why are we at Lucas’s?” She kept her gaze on the sky, curling her fingers into a fist, only half conscious of doing so. “You don’t have a place of your own here?”

  “No. I don’t much like the city. I prefer to stay on base.”

  She turned slowly to face him, suddenly curious. “What about Wyoming? Is that the reason you were away so often doing military stuff? You didn’t like the ranch?”

  His expression gave nothing away. “I liked the ranch. And I did come back. Whenever I was on leave, remember?”

  Oh yes, she remembered. The image of him shirtless and bending over that horse’s hoof was painfully clear in her mind, making her face get hot. God, she really did need to stop thinking about that.

  “But not the last eight years,” she said, unable to keep her tone from sounding snippy. “Unless of course you had an eight-year deployment that I don’t know about.”

  An emotion she couldn’t read flickered across his face. “There were reasons.”

  “What reasons?”

  “Complicated ones”—he shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, his dark brows drawing down—“that I’m not going to get into now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to talk about it.” His gaze narrowed. “Why do you want to know, anyway?”

  “Because I—” She stopped, aware all of a sudden that maybe pushing him about this wasn’t the best idea. Not given what it could reveal about her. “It’s fine,” she went on after a moment. “Forget I said anything.”

  Something glinted in his eyes. “Because you what?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She turned toward the windows. “Do you think this place has a better view than Dad’s?”

  He didn’t reply, the taut silence lengthening.

  Then he said quietly, “Did you miss me?”

  Her chest ached all of a sudden, her throat constricting, and she didn’t know why, because of course she hadn’t missed him. There had been all sorts of things happening with the ranch, the purchase of new pastures, new stock, expanding the breeding programs.… She hadn’t had time to miss him. She hadn’t even thought about him.

  “No.” She ignored the catch in her voice.

  “That’s why you’re angry with me, isn’t it?” he went on. “It’s not because Dad left me the ranch. It was because I wasn’t there.”

  She couldn’t look at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t even think about you. I had too much to do.”

  “You’re not angry at the others, though. And they didn’t visit either.”

  It was true, none of them had. But it was only Van who’d mattered. It was only Van who’d ever mattered.

  But she didn’t want to think about that, still less feel it. She was done with making herself vulnerable to people just so they could walk all over her.

  Steeling herself, she turned from the window and met his gaze. “Where did you say the bedroom was again? Like you said, I’d better get myself settled in.”

  He didn’t move, yet the look in his eyes pierced her straight through. “Why do you keep insisting nothing’s wrong? You were kind of quiet back there at Leo’s, which is definitely not you. So what’s the deal?”

  “There’s no deal.”

  “Bullshit.” He was staring at her like he was trying to see inside. “You held onto my hand back there like you couldn’t bear to let me go. What was all that about?”

  Her heart was starting to beat much faster, a vague sense of threat looming over her. “I could ask you the same thing,” she shot back. “Why did you even hold out your hand in the first place?”

  The gold was back in his eyes, flickering like a flame. “Because you looked like you needed support.”

  It’s not support you need from him.

  She wanted to look away then because she was terribly afraid that the thick mess of feelings inside her was leaking out somehow and he could see it. Could read it. And that he’d turn away like her father had done. Because who liked having to deal with all those tangled, knotty emotions? The hungry, consuming kind. Noah hadn’t. And in the end, she hadn’t either.

  Except she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of letting him see how he affected her, how he’d gotten to her. And the only way to do that was to pretend he hadn’t.

  “Thanks for the concern,” she snapped. “But—”

  “You’re fine,” he finished for her. “Yeah, I get it.” The intense hazel of his eyes glinted from beneath thick, sooty black lashes, somehow pinning her to the spot. “Thing is, Chloe. You’re not fine, and you haven’t been fine since the moment you got off the plane. And you know what? I’m getting pretty fucking sick of you pretending you are.”

  The sense of threat deepened, a primitive fight-or-flight response beginning to kick in, and it took all she had not to simply walk from the room. But she wasn’t going to be a coward in front him, she just wasn’t.

  So talk to him then.

  No, she couldn’t do that. Couldn’t give him pieces of herself, not when she had no idea what he would do with them. Not when that could end up with her wanting something from him that he couldn’t and wouldn’t give her. She didn’t want to end up being that silly little girl who kept hoping for something the way she had with her dad, not again.

  Instead she moved, coming right up to him, staring into his eyes, letting him see that she wasn’t pretending, not at all.

  “I. Am. Fine.” She enunciated each word clearly, so there could be no mistake. “How many times do I have to say it?”

  He’d gone very still, looming over her like a mountain carved from warm, living, breathing rock. And for some reason all she was conscious of was how cold she was, and how hot he was. So very, very hot. And that she wanted to get closer, get some of that heat for herself.

  Mistake. Back away.

  Yet her feet felt like they were encased in concrete, and she couldn’t move. His reassuring scent was all around her and she couldn’t stop staring at his beautiful mouth. There was something about his bottom lip she’d never noticed before, something about the curve of it. Sensual, yet with a cruel edge. It made her shiver.

  “Why are you so angry, pretty?” His voice was as soft and dark and deep as black velvet. “You can tell me. You know that, right?”

  All of a sudden, she wanted to. Wanted to tell him that yes, she was angry. Because he’d never visited and she had missed him. That no, she actually wasn’t fine, because she was starting to realize that while he might have Wolf and Lucas, she had nobody and never had. That she was lonely. That she was hungry for something, a hunger she didn’t have words for and one that frightened her in its intensity. A hunger she’d tried to keep at bay for a long, long time.

  But she couldn’t tell him that, because doing so would make her vulnerable and she didn’t want to be vulnerable. Not again.

  Except now she could f
eel that hunger slipping from her grip, his nearness making it twist and turn like a half-starved beast on a chain. And she knew she should move back. Walk away.

  Yet she didn’t. She trembled instead.

  He must have seen it because his gaze shifted, flickered, the shards of gold close to his iris suddenly brilliant.

  Like a tiger’s.

  The thought rolled through her head and she couldn’t think why she’d thought it. Or why it made everything inside her gather tight into a small, hard knot. But it did.

  “Van.” His name came out husky, with a desperate edge, and she had no idea why she’d said that either. Only inches separated them, and suddenly all she wanted was to close the distance, because she was cold and needed his heat. Craved it.

  So she took another step toward him, and he didn’t move. He only watched her as she got closer. Then closer still, so there was no space between them at all.

  And the rock-hard expanse of his chest was abruptly under her palms, though she had no memory of reaching out to him, the heat of him flooding through her. And then she was sliding her hands up his chest and further, around his neck, pushing her fingers into the thick, short black silk of his hair.

  His gaze held hers the whole time, saying nothing. Watching her, all bright, burning gold. Like a challenge.

  A challenge she couldn’t resist.

  Chloe rose up on her toes and pulled his mouth down on hers.

  * * *

  Van went utterly still as Chloe’s mouth opened beneath his, her fingers twisting in his hair, holding on. And he couldn’t quite work out why he’d let her do it, why he hadn’t stopped her. Why he hadn’t simply turned around and walked out of the room.

  But he hadn’t. He’d let her get closer, mesmerized by the flicker of hunger that had woken into life in the darkness of her eyes. A hunger he felt echo inside of him, too.

  Don’t just stand there, asshole. Stop her.

  He should. Christ, he really, really should. Yet he didn’t.

  Her kiss wasn’t at all practiced, but her mouth was open and hot, and she tasted of desperation. It was like a fucking match to an open can of rocket fuel, exploding the desire that had been simmering constantly inside him for a couple of days now.