BLACKMAIL_A billionaire blackmail romance

by Chloe Fischer

  He leisurely turned to stroll from the room, pausing to look back as if hoping to catch a glimpse of her naked skin.

  Over the years, Ryland had made some very questionable moves toward her but never quite crossed the line.

  Still, Ayla was constantly on alert around him, knowing that he was not fully balanced.

  She knew what Ryland was capable of.

  She would never forget what he could do.

  Closing the door as he sauntered away, she engaged the lock on her door for the first time since she had moved into the apartment and sank back, pressing her hand to her chest.

  He’s going to keep creeping in here. I have to move.

  But something told her that no matter where she went, Ryland would always find her.

  Oh god, I should just turn myself in to the police. I need to end this once and for all.

  Her brain was still too fuzzy to think clearly but she knew she needed to get dressed and get him out of her house.

  She quickly threw on a pair of Lululemon track pants and a bra and tank top combo, throwing her damp tresses into a haphazard bun and tried to inhale slowly.

  “Ryland, you can’t keep coming here. It’s weird and you’re making me nervous,” she told him flatly as she joined him in the kitchen where he had pulled a beer from the fridge.

  “I am protecting my investment,” he replied easily, taking a swig of the bottle. “And making sure my little sister is safe in the big city.”

  “I’ve gotten by just fine this long without you,” she reminded him shortly. “But I appreciate your concern.”

  “How are things going with Diren Benning?” he asked as if she hadn’t spoken. “Any progress?”

  A hot flush filled her face and she shook her head quickly.

  “I’ve only been there for two days, Ryland. I told you, this will take time. I will let you know if I get anywhere.”

  Ryland smirked, his cold black eyes raking over her body.

  “Really?” he drawled. “Because those hickeys on your neck say otherwise.”

  Another wave of nausea threatened Ayla but she knew it had nothing to do with the hangover she was about to endure.

  “They aren’t hickeys,” she lied. “I had an allergic reaction.”

  “To Benning’s aftershave?” Ryland asked innocently but there was a razor in his undertone. Ayla knew it well.

  She was growing more paralyzed with fear by the moment.

  From somewhere deep inside her, she summoned a spark of courage and tried to reflect a stoniness in her face.

  “Ryland, I can’t do this for you,” she told him flatly. “I have decided that I’m going to speak with the police in Tallman about what happened.”

  A frigid silence followed her words, but Ryland continued to stare at her, sipping the beer.

  “What happened to you, Ayl?” he asked finally, flopping onto a wooden chair, putting his ankle casually over his knee. “You used to have such a sense of adventure.”

  She gazed at him, catching his mockery but she did not take the bait.

  “This has gone on way too long. What happened was my fault and I should have taken responsibility for it a long time ago. I won’t mention your part in it – “

  “Are you really that stupid, Ayla?” he roared, and she jumped, stepping back. “What are you going to say you did with the bodies?”

  A peculiar feeling started in the pit of Ayla’s stomach.

  “The bodies?” she echoed. “What bodies?”

  Ryland’s face grew cruel.

  “You haven’t figured it out after all this time, have you?” he snarled, spitting contemptuously on the floor. “How do you think the police never came knocking, you dumb bitch? I took care of everything. I protected you and this is how you thank me?”

  “Ryland, what bodies? Who else died?” she started to tremble as the dread increased in her belly.

  But even as she asked the question, she knew the answer.

  He scoffed and rolled his eyes, jumping to his feet, his face growing red with anger.

  “Why do you keep bringing that shit up? It’s done, and it should stay in the past where it belongs. I told you, if you just do this, you’ll never see me again. Isn’t that what you want? What you’ve always wanted?”

  I keep bringing this up? You are the one who keeps coming to me with your harebrained schemes! She wanted to scream.

  There was a plaintive but terrifying note in his voice and Ayla was afraid to answer, unsure of what the right answer would be. It seemed like Ryland was right on the very edge of his sanity, closer than he had ever been. And Ayla didn’t want to be around when he finally went over, knowing in her heart that whoever was around him when he became desperate enough would be the one to suffer his violence first hand. But she needed this to end. Finally. She couldn’t live with this hanging over her head any longer.

  She gnawed on her lower lip and dropped her gaze.

  “I can’t do what you’re asking,” she whispered, hating that she sounded so unconvinced. “It’s just too risky. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am. I can’t lose it all now, Ryland. You have to understand. If this is something you want to do, you’ll have to find another way.”

  Ryland closed the gap between them, his dark eyes alight with rage.

  “You selfish cunt, you’re just a spoiled bitch!” he hissed, his hand encircling her throat. “You will do this.”

  Ayla closed her eyes, willing away the tears of fear but she shook her head.

  “No,” she breathed. “I’m not doing it. I’m going to the police this weekend. We’re done. Stop coming around, Ryland, or I will tell them you were there.”

  The slap was both unexpected and painful.

  Ayla tasted blood in her mouth.

  “You stupid cow! How long do you think it will take them to figure out my involvement once you tell them? No, you won’t say a word and you will get those account numbers for me, Ayla. Or you’re going to have even more blood on your hands.”

  She opened her bright, terrified eyes and stared at him.

  “What are you saying?” she demanded, choking back a sob.

  He pushed her back and grinned disarmingly.

  “Shut your mouth and do what you’re told, or your classy mom is going to be next.”

  Ayla’s jaw dropped.

  “What the actual fuck is that supposed to mean?” she gasped.

  He sneered at her contemptuously.

  “What did it sound like? If you keep being such a prissy bitch, Beth Ann is going to have a rough time.”

  “You wouldn’t!” she hissed, shaking her head. “She’s like your own mother, Ryland! She raised you too!”

  Ryland chortled.

  “Wow,” he sighed, looking at her sadly. “You really are dumb as shit, aren’t you? I don’t give a rat’s ass about Beth Ann. I don’t know how anyone could give a shit about such a waste of space.”

  Ayla could not stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks as she detected the sincerity in her stepbrother’s words.

  “Please, Ry – “

  “Oh, shut up, Ayla. Stop begging. It’s annoying. Just do what you’re told, and your crackhead mother will be fine. Deal?”

  She nodded, swallowing the agonized moan in her throat.

  “Okay,” she whispered, almost choking on the words. “Yes.”

  He peered at her.

  “Great,” he sighed. “We have an understanding. Now hurry up, sis, and get me those accounts. Time’s a wasting, as Beth Ann would say.”

  Chapter Eight

  Diren’s head lifted and he turned to look at Ayla hunched over her computer at the far side of his office, chewing on her lower lip in concentration as she worked.

  It seemed he could not stop watching her as she pored over the documents he had emailed to her and again, he found himself wondering what she was thinking about.

  Those budget proposals are boring as sin but she looks like she’s investing her life savings in the
m, he thought curiously. He had a feeling that she was not focussed on the proposals at all but that her mind was a million miles away.

  Over the past two weeks, they had worked closely together, although he had respectfully kept his hands to himself.

  Respectfully or more self-preservationally? He asked himself wryly.

  He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he had a grudging admiration for the girl. The elusive quality which he longed to identify about her was driving him crazy, but it seemed the more he studied her, the more it seemed to slip from his understanding.

  She’s just different somehow. I’ll figure out what it is eventually.

  But Diren Benning was not a man to simply walk away from a mystery.

  “Why are you staring at me?”

  The question caught him off guard.

  He hadn’t realized that he had been caught.

  “You’re too loud,” he replied, shifting his attention back to the screen before him. “Try to type more quietly.”

  He didn’t need to look up to see her stunned expression.

  A moment later he realized that she was moving, and he glanced at her as she packed up her Mac and grabbed her purse.

  “Where are you going?” he demanded. “You have work to do.”

  She eyed him through her peripheral vision.

  “I’ll go work in the front office,” she replied curtly. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

  He winced.

  I should have known she would say something like that, he thought. He was gradually beginning to learn the ways of his new assistant and while she didn’t outwardly fight with him, she had a subtle way of putting him in his place.

  At first, Diren had been irritated by her borderline insubordination but over time, he saw that she was an excellent worker and confident in her own abilities.

  She didn’t need to be babysat, he realized. Diren couldn’t remember the last time that he had an assistant who didn’t require coddling.

  She’s the perfect assistant and you’re ruining her by being a complete ass, he warned himself.

  But another part of him was glad he kept her at bay. He knew the dangers of letting people get too close. It always backfired, and he would not make that mistake. Not again.

  Especially not with a woman that I am not entirely certain I trust.

  “No,” he said flatly. “I have people coming in and I want you to meet with them.”

  Ayla paused.

  “Alone?” she asked dubiously. He snorted.

  “Of course not,” he retorted. “You’re an assistant.”

  She scowled and Diren realized how condescending the words had sounded.

  His face softened.

  “I mean that it’s an important meeting and I need you to take notes.”

  It wasn’t true, of course. The Stanhopes were coming back and there was no need for minutes to be taken, but Diren also didn’t want to lose sight of his new assistant.

  Ayla didn’t need to know that. It was imperative that she did not sense the need he had to keep her near.

  Slowly, Ayla nodded and reclaimed her seat at the small desk, opening her laptop.

  Unexpectedly, he blurted out something.

  “I’m not filing a lawsuit against Delia.”

  Ayla raised her head and stared at him, her blue eyes expressionless.

  “I didn’t realize that you were considering it,” she replied, a slight note of surprise in her voice.

  Diren shrugged.

  “It has been on my mind,” he told her honestly. “But I have opted not to do it.”

  “That’s probably a smart move,” she said, returning her gaze to her computer. “You don’t want to open that can of worms, after all.”

  Diren felt his brow crease and he stared at her questioningly.

  “What does that mean?” he demanded. “I would be perfectly within my rights to pursue a breach of contract case. You garnered the information after all.”

  His statement was met with silence and he got the sense that Ayla was gathering the words in her mind before saying them aloud.

  “Yes,” she finally agreed. “You would be within your rights but at what cost? You were obviously looking for something specific she might have said, and we’ve established she didn’t say it. All that a lawsuit would do is open the floodgates for all your old lovers to step forward. And God forbid…”

  She trailed off, glancing at him nervously as if she had said too much already.

  Diren felt himself bristle.

  “God forbid what?” he asked, his jaw clenched.

  “God forbid someone countersues with a sexual harassment claim.”

  Diren almost gasped at the words, his mouth falling open.

  “Sexual harassment?” he choked. “You must be kidding! I have never forced anyone to do anything sexual in my life!”

  Ayla just ignored him as she continued to scroll through her work.

  “Do you think I harassed you?” he asked, his voice like gravel.

  Her head whipped up, her blue eyes wide with surprise.

  “Of course not, Diren,” she replied. “But I am not like everyone else. And in this day and age, in light of what’s happening in other industries and workplaces…”

  Their gazes locked, and he started to respond when Catrina’s voice called out through the intercom.

  “Mr. Benning, the Stanhopes are here,” she intoned.

  “Five minutes, Catrina,” he replied. He looked back at Ayla, but she was already pretending to be engrossed in her screen.

  No, he agreed silently. She is not like everyone else.

  “Do you think I’m some power hungry, horny bastard who seduces every woman that he meets?”

  As he spoke, he wondered who had taken over his body.

  What the hell do I care what she thinks? He wondered, aghast that he had asked the question, but there was no way to take the words back.

  As if echoing his thoughts, Ayla responded.

  “What difference does it make what I think?” she said quietly. “You have a lot more going for you than I do. I am the last person you should be asking for image advice. Anyway, that’s not what you pay me for.”

  His grey eyes narrowed into slits.

  “Is that your way of saying yes? You do believe I’m some lecherous pig who gets off on asserting my power over women?”

  Ayla sighed loudly as if he was annoying her and his back became a steel rod of anger.

  She turned to him deliberately.

  “I am not the person you should be projecting this off,” she told him stonily. “If you have doubts about how you treat women then that is something you need to work on. You can’t blame others for your own reputation.”

  “My own reput – “

  A knock on the door interrupted his thought and Catrina poked her head inside.

  “George and Vanessa Stanhope, Mr. Benning.”

  Diren pulled his eyes away from Ayla and reluctantly rose stiffly to his feet to greet the grandfather/granddaughter duo.

  “Hello, Diren,” Vanessa Stanhope said brightly, entering the room as George shuffled in behind her.

  The old man seemed to have aged significantly in the past weeks and Diren almost didn’t recognize him. The CEO could see the man had no idea where he was as he looked around the inner office.

  Diren smiled graciously at them and slipped around the desk.

  “I’m so glad we could meet again,” he told Vanessa, extending his hand. Ayla stayed near her desk, apparently unsure of what to do.

  It was the first time he had asked her to stay to meet with anyone.

  “My assistant Ayla Dumas,” he offered, and Vanessa nodded politely before sitting on the sofa. George looked faraway and confused.

  “Nancy,” George whispered. “What are we doing at the opera? I don’t like the opera. The loud voices hurt my ears.”

  Vanessa patted his hand reassuringly and smiled nervously at Diren.

 
; “It’s okay, granddad,” she told him quietly. “We won’t be here long.”

  George mumbled something incoherent.

  “He’s pretty far gone now,” Vanessa told Diren quietly. “But he still maintains his own power of attorney so he needs to be here to sign.”

  Diren made a commiserating noise but he wondered how that would affect the sale.

  Will it hold up in court? I should have Alvin up here just in case.

  It was too late to worry about that. He had them there and ready to sign over Windchime Publications to him. Alvin could sort out any loopholes later.

  That’s why he charged such a ridiculous salary, after all.

  It had been too many months of negotiating. Diren just needed their signatures on a tentative agreement and they would be good to go finally.

  I don’t know why the little businesses always make it the most difficult, he thought, maintaining his fake smile. They cause the biggest stink and take the longest.

  “I am so sorry,” he told Vanessa comfortingly. “Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?”

  She shook her head quickly.

  “No, thank you,” she replied. “We just want to sign the tentative agreement and be done with this. Our lawyers can handle the aftermath, but I just want to have some assurances from you before we do this.”

  “Of course,” Diren replied charmingly. “How can I put your mind at ease?”

  “Firstly, Granddad’s biggest concern was what was going to happen to Windchime. Are you still going to follow the same process we use, with our publishing standards?”

  “Of course!” Diren lied. “That was always what I told George. You will have the final say in everything. Windchime will simply fall under the Benning Media umbrella. Everything else will stay the same.”

  Vanessa’s brow knit slightly, and she chewed on her lower lip.

  “But Diren, you must admit that Benning Media doesn’t exactly jive with the same values as Windchime. We have a huge following in the LGBTQ and feminist communities. Benning is much more…conservative.”

  Diren chuckled.

  “Every good businessman knows that demographics is everything. There is no law which says we can’t appeal to all sides of the coin. You don’t need to worry. Windchime will continue to publish the same wonderful works it always has.”