Ruthless Love

by Demi Damson

  She was so close before, he hoped grazing against her most sensitive spot would be enough to push her over the edge. It better be, because he couldn’t take much more of this. He picked up the pace, still completely focused on her as she arched up to meet him, making it harder and harder for him to stay in control. He groaned and plunged in roughly. He couldn’t stop, not with her writhing under him like a wildcat.

  “Jordan,” she groaned as she tried to wrap her legs around him and pull him deeper into her.

  He pulled back and reached between them, brushing his fingers against her clit to seal the deal. It was enough. She cried out his name and bucked against him like a rodeo horse. His world went red as she came, her muscles clenching against him as she called his name over and over. He lunged forward as he began to come harder than he ever had before. She shook with one last tremor, milking every last drop out of him. He kept thrusting until he was completely empty, clinging to her like his life depended on it.

  They collapsed together on the bed, a slick and sweaty mess. “That was amazing,” he whispered, overcome with love for her again.

  “Good morning,” she whispered, her eyes still wide with pleasure. He kissed her again, gently this time, first softly on the nose and then on her lips and then deeper, swirling his tongue into her mouth until he touched hers.

  “Every morning with you is a good morning,” he said, not caring how stupid it sounded. The words flew out of him. “I can’t stop wanting to be with you. Every second of the day.” He pulled back from her oh-so-tempting lips. “Charlotte Jones, marry me.”

  That hadn’t been at all what he’d meant to say but now that the words were out, he knew it was right. Charlotte was everything he wanted.

  Charlotte looked less confident. She scrambled back to sitting position and blinked at him. “What? Really? I mean—”

  He put a finger on her mouth. “Yes, really. You can quit your job and move into mine immediately. We can hold the wedding here, or wherever you want, my darling, it’s totally up to you. We’ll choose a house together, maybe somewhere outside of the city, where it’s safe for kids, and it can have a white picket fence around the garden and...” Even as the words spilled out of his mouth, he knew it was too much, too fast. He had never even considered children but suddenly here he was, laying out their entire future.

  Worst of all, Charlotte wasn’t responding the way she had in his fantasy. She didn’t look happy at all. She looked completely petrified.

  Chapter Thirty–One

  Eyes On The Prize

  Charlotte had been stretching lazily, her headache almost gone. Sex as a cure for hangover. Who knew? And then Jordan dropped a nuclear bomb on her.

  Charlotte pulled the duvet around her, horrified, replaying the conversation in her mind. Did that just happen?

  Yes, Jordan Lovett had just asked her to marry him. Her stomach flipped at the thought. The man was gorgeous, intelligent and the sexiest man she had ever gone to bed with. She was pretty sure he wasn’t involved in the shady work of his father. Sure, he was a little spoiled. He could say stupid things. He was very used to getting things his own way. But over the past few days, she’d fallen more than a little in love with him.

  Except...

  Except he expected, like they all did, that she would simply drop everything for him. He expected her to give up her job and her apartment and meld into his life like a missing jigsaw puzzle piece, even if she had to cut off parts of herself to fit.

  What was worse, she was tempted.

  “Quit?”

  “You won’t need to ever work again, Charlotte. Whatever else happens, I will take care of you.”

  She couldn’t wrap her head around his proposal. She couldn’t get past that single word. “Quit,” she said again, but it wasn’t a question any longer. That told her everything about how it was going to be. She would quit her job and give up her flat and they would move to the suburbs where she would have 2.4 children and play hostess to his business events and have expensive doctors give her a prescription for valium to help her get through the day.

  Her voice was flat. “White picket fence and everything, huh.”

  It wasn’t Jordan’s fault: he just thought it was normal. The way things were. That’s the way men were taught it should be, especially spoiled gorgeous playboys like Jordan Lovett.

  “Look, the fence can be cast iron, if you want. That’s not the important thing.” He pulled her up into his arms and her stupid heart started racing again. Her body leaned into his with desire, even as her brain was frantically trying to process what was happening. Even now, she was set on fire just by the scent of his skin.

  “I don’t know what I want,” she said, and that, at least, was true.

  And now he was looking at her like a kicked puppy, wondering why she wasn’t ecstatic. She felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes and pulled away, not wanting him to see her cry.

  The quiet was interrupted by the jangle of his phone, bringing the beating pain behind her eyebrows back with a vengeance. He started pacing the room, suddenly all business. He spoke rapidly and forcefully, tackling decisions about some sort of office drama.

  Charlotte took the chance to soak him in, all broad chest and muscled arms. His chiseled jaw with its customary shadow. His hair rumpled and his shoulders tense. She took a long look while she still could.

  “No, it’s fine. I won’t be in until tomorrow though. Yes, thanks. Sorry.” He hung up and started grabbing his things.

  “Where are you going?” Had she driven him away? And was it for the best?

  “Just for a run.” He smiled at her, but it was weak. “Look, I’m sorry I dropped that on you with no warning.”

  She opened her mouth, not sure what she was going to say, but he never gave her the chance. “Let’s just take a quick break and then talk when I’m back.” He kissed her forehead and left.

  It was impossible to think straight around him. She leaned back into her pillow, wondering for a moment what it might be like if it was always like this. Could she share a life with Jordan Lovett? She rolled over into the warm spot he’d just vacated. It was nice to dream.

  But, no. She wasn’t giving up her business or her life to be with him. Damn, she could be tempted to do it for a month or two. Except now he’d asked her to give him everything and she couldn’t do that.

  Not that it mattered what she thought, anyway. She couldn’t forget the minor fact that everything she’d told him about herself was a lie. He had proposed to Charlotte Jones, not Charlotte Nichols. He didn’t know who she was or where she’d came from. And if George Lovett knew she was Owen Nichol’s daughter... she shook her head. There was no chance this could ever work.

  But she could still do what she came for. The house was empty: Jordan was out running and George was almost certainly out playing golf. Lauren had no reason to talk to her or to look in the office. She would never get an opportunity like this again. And everything was ruined anyway.

  She started pulling on her clothes: just a t-shirt and jeans. There was no point in dressing up fancy, now. She was ready to take down the big boss.

  If Charlotte could find the evidence, she could tell Jordan about it and maybe he’d understand why she’d lied to him. Maybe she could explain... She swallowed. Explain she was in his house as a spy, that she’d come here looking to take his father down, that she was lying about who she was. He wouldn’t understand. How could he?

  Fine. That was it. She needed to accept it was over. She’d tell him goodbye and disappear out of his life. All she had to do was throw away the burner phone and she was free. He didn’t know her real name or anything about her. He’d never find her. It would be easier for everyone.

  With tears in her eyes, she finished getting dressed. She might as well finish the job she came for. Doing nothing, after all this, had to be the worst possible option.

  Besides, ruthless, right? But she knew when it came to Jordan, she no longer wanted to be ruthless. She jus
t wanted the chance to show him why this was so important to her and hope he would give her the chance to explain, however unrealistic that might be.

  She wiped her hands on her jeans and made her way to George Lovett’s office.

  Charlotte stopped in front of the doorway, clenching her shaking fingers. No reason to be nervous, she told herself. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been in here before. If someone walked in, she could say exactly the same as she had planned before: she simply was looking for a book to read and meant to enter the library, not the office. The house was big enough, it was easy enough to get lost. And once she found what she was looking for, she would clear out and leave their lives forever.

  She slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Thirty–Two

  Running Is Cheaper Than Therapy

  Jordan started out at a fast pace, pushing himself out of the garden and onto the street in record time. He was burning away his frustration and anger and, yes, fear. He was frightened he’d screwed things up. He was frightened Charlotte was going to walk away. He was frightened he might lose her just as he’d realized how much he needed her.

  He ran faster, trying to shut up his mind and get his body exerted to the point that it matched with his already thumping heart.

  He didn’t think he misread her completely. Yes, she was an escort and yes, it was her job to make every man feel like the center of her world. He understood that. But he wasn’t stupid. The way her body reacted to his, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. That wasn’t scripted. That was Charlotte Jones, the real Charlotte, not the working girl, he was sure of it.

  And yet, he was also sure something behind her eyes had shut down like a shutter when he’d proposed to her. He had become so overwhelmed with love he couldn’t hold back the words and he knew he’d overwhelmed her in the process. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  But that didn’t explain the look in her eyes. If she wasn’t immediately sure, that was one thing, but she looked awfully damn sure, actually, that he’d said the wrong thing completely. Something or someone had hurt her, he was sure of that, and somehow, he had reopened the wound. And what did he know about her, really?

  He cursed his impetuousness once again. George was right, he needed to slow down.

  As he turned the corner into the main street, he saw Mrs. Butrey walking Bitsy to the park. He jogged over and walked alongside her for a moment, catching his breath.

  She gave him a sidelong look. “Well, young Lovett,” she said after a few moments. “Are you running from or to?”

  He didn’t follow. “I’m just running around town.”

  She shook her head. “No, young man, I’ve seen you running around town since you were a teenager. This is the first time I’ve seen you really run. I just can’t tell if you are running away from something or trying desperately to catch something. Where’s that young lady of yours?”

  Mrs. Butrey always did see straight through him. “She’s at the house.” He sighed. “I asked her to marry me.”

  “After the engagement party?” She laughed at his embarrassment and held up a hand. “Don’t explain, I knew it wasn’t what it seemed. Well, well, well.” She barely glanced at him. “And her response wasn’t quite what you expected, I guess.”

  He stretched and kept walking, carefully dodging the Pekinese running in circles around him, trying to trip him up with its leash. “Not really. No, Mrs. Butrey, not at all.”

  “I can’t say I’m surprised. You probably overwhelmed her. You always have been very intense when you want something, and you tend to take things too fast.”

  He winced at that and got ready for a lecture on how he should wait to get to know her and not rush into big decisions. “George keeps telling me,” he said, hoping to head her off. “He thinks she’d make a better mistress than wife.”

  “Oh, George. Never you mind him. He’s wrong. And he just hates not being in the center of things. It’s not like he’d let anyone else run the company, just let him complain. You are right to keep it on the straight and narrow. There are plenty of people who wouldn’t mind taking the Lovetts down a notch.”

  Since when did she know about the company business? She didn’t give him a chance to ask what she meant by that.

  “Even as a boy, you tried to be three steps ahead of everyone else. Knowing you, you probably planned out the next ten years of your lives and announced to her exactly how it was going to be.”

  He chewed his lip. In retrospect, that was, in fact, exactly what he’d done.

  “This young lady of yours, even I can see she’s used to doing things for herself. You can’t just make decisions and expect her to fall in line. You are going to have to learn to work with her.” She smiled at him. “If you think she’s the one for you, that is.”

  “I think she is.”

  “Then, you need to stop assuming you have to be in charge all the time.” She patted his arm. “That young woman will make you a good partner, if you let her. But if you’d rather have one of those plastic beauties on your arm who will always do as they are told...”

  “No, that’s not what I want.” That he was sure of.

  “Well, then, maybe you need to stop proving how clever you are to have solved everything in advance and ask her what she wants. She might surprise you.”

  They walked in silence to the far end of the park, while Bitsy yapped at a fallen leaf.

  “You’ve got a good point,” he said.

  “I know.” She smiled. “Do send me an invitation to the wedding if you manage to get it right.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Butrey, I will.” He gave her a one-armed hug and turned to head back to the main road.

  “Now he’s running to catch something, Bitsy—or rather, someone,” he heard her say as he jogged out of the park. She was right. He started running faster.

  He was just heading around the paddocks when his phone rang. He pulled it out to check, in case it was Charlotte. Lauren. She would wait. He dismissed the call but it rang again almost immediately. Scowling, he swiped to decline it again. When it rang the third time, he got nervous. Maybe there was something wrong with Dad.

  “This better be important.”

  “Jordan? You have to come home immediately.” She was whispering into the phone.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s a burglar in the house.” Her voice was frantic. “Maybe more than one. He’s got a crowbar. I’ve called the police but they’ll take forever to get here. Please hurry!”

  The line went dead.

  Jordan sped back towards the house at rocket speed. He threw open the front door, panting, to see Lauren there, holding her finger to her mouth.

  “What the—” If she’d called him for a joke, he really was going to kill her.

  “SHHHH!” She closed the front door as quietly as she could. “There’s one in the office. I think he’s searching for the safe. I don’t even know if George locked it after putting my jewelry back last night after the party. There may be others in the house. Jordan, we’re being robbed!”

  He wiped his brow. “Where’s George? Where’s Charlotte?”

  “Your dad is golfing and not answering his phone. I have no idea where Charlotte is.”

  “Ok.” He crept to the corridor. Sure enough, he heard the sound of a closing drawer in the office. Someone was in there.

  He needed a weapon. The axe from the wood pile? Too unwieldy, and too far away. Maria’s big chef’s knife? He didn’t want to get that close to someone. He grabbed the poker from the hallway fireplace. “Stay back. I’ll deal with this.”

  Chapter Thirty–Three

  Caught In The Act

  Charlotte opened the drawer for 2003 and started rifling through the files. She needed to find Kenny James, the one her father had mentioned. She flipped through all the J’s, skimming past multiple James, and then it finally sunk in. He was filing everyone by first name. She shook her head, telling herself not to judge,
and then went to the K’s. Sure enough, there was Kenny.

  She was pulling out his files when she heard something behind her. Spinning around, she was ready to make any excuse she could. But no one was there. The sound... it was like the click of a door. But the door was closed. It must have been something else. She was getting paranoid. Still, it was time to hurry.

  She took the folder to the desk, closing the drawer behind her so it wasn’t obvious she’d been snooping through the files. At the desk, she spread the paperwork in front of her: a business card for Mr. James, which confirmed he worked for the EPA department of the city. An index card with some quick notes: his wife’s name was Mary, he had two children, both boys. They’d lived in Australia for a year. Nothing particularly exciting. She laid them out and took photographs quickly with her cell phone.

  A glamour shot of a scantily dressed girl, wearing only a thong and a big smile. Her arms were crossed in front of her, covering her chest but not very successfully. There was some serious triple-D side-boob action on display. The photograph had a note scribbled across the corner: Love you Kenny! Come and visit me again soon! Love, your Sexy Serena. There was a phone number and a row of hearts. Another photograph showed two older men with the same woman, each with an arm around her. This one was addressed to My favorite sweethearts, Buddy and Kenny, for giving me the night of my life. On the back were scribbled details of a hotel.

  So. That was interesting. Was George taking her to strip clubs on the company dime? That seemed like the kind of thing George Lovett would do.

  She remembered the name Buddy: the man who Jordan thought introduced her. George’s right-hand man, he’d said. Could Buddy and George have threatened Kenny James with exposure, maybe threatened to tell his wife? Charlotte took a snapshot of both photographs.