by Lynda Chance
“I admit it—and I’d do it again. Show me a downside to this—you can’t because there isn’t one. If I’d known about you sooner, we’d be past all this shit and you’d be completely happy by now. But we’ll get there. I’ve screwed up a lot of things in my life—but trust me—taking you as mine wasn’t one of them.”
Not knowing how to respond, she pursed her lips in silence and his expression hardened, his look intensifying. His head lowered over hers; the kiss he gave her was hot, forceful, scorching her all the way through within seconds. She lost her breath; his tongue invaded her mouth as he held her captive. He began kissing her as if it were his last kiss—as if he were on death row and she was his last request.
He shifted, his hips moving between her thighs to press against her mound with threatening, tempting force. A tumult of heady desire blasted her nerve endings. As she moaned in her throat, he reacted to it, growling low as the kiss took off to a new level—away from anything that resembled a mere kiss. His lips clung, his teeth nipped as he seemed to swallow her whole, all the while holding her pinned.
She felt a corresponding need to rock against him but she was too firmly caught in his hold. She couldn’t move even an inch, she could barely breathe. Lacking the ability to do anything more, she kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his, her treacherous body screaming for relief, remembering exactly the force of relief this man could give her—the satisfaction he could give her—the devastation he could wreak on her body and senses. She wanted it all and more, again … and again.
As if by magic, as if he could read her mind and knew exactly what she wanted, he released her face as his hand drifted to her breast. He pinched her nipple and caressed her entire breast, weighing it in his hand. Unable to hold it in, she let out another small sound, and his hand dropped between her thighs.
Pushing her skirt up, he found her clit through her panties and began a purposeful assault on her senses. Her thought process split in two, and in desperation, she twisted her mouth from his in a bid for oxygen.
As she breathed in deeply, his head dropped to her neck and he began sipping, then sucking at the curve of her collarbone, nudging the heavy gemstones out of his way. She trembled in his arms, transported to a place where she had little will. She felt his breath as he rasped deeply, “Make your phone call. And while you’re talking, think about how badly I want you. How badly you know you want me. You’re completely mine, Erin, and soon you won’t want it any other way, I promise you that.” Her eyes opened and through a roaring in her head, she abruptly realized that her manipulation of him would be a double-edged sword. Shock bled down her spine. Shock that she might be the one who would be easy to manipulate—even if it would be a sweet, sweet manipulation.
Refusing to give in to him completely, she began pushing against his shoulders, and after a low growl of warning, he finally released the place between her thighs and then grasped her chin until they were staring at each other with glazed eyes. They were both dragging in oxygen as if their bodies had been pushed beyond comfort. A new understanding of his sexual power over her was only now beginning to resonate in her brain—why else would she be about to make a phone call that would irrevocably change her life when instead, she should be demanding to be sent back to the U.S.?
Without a doubt, this plan of hers could blow up in her face. But, she needed him crazy about her. It was the only possible way she could get him to call off his vendetta against her brothers. But what if his will was stronger than hers?
As she stared into his desire-laden eyes, his erection was powerful between them, a bold testament of his passion for her. It eased her somewhat to know that she wasn’t the only one enthralled, but his next words brought her crashing back to reality. “I suggest you call your mother now. Please assure her that she is always welcome here.” Holding her gaze captive, he lifted her hand that clutched her cell phone, his thumb running back and forth over her skin in a subtle, yet demanding caress.
When she remained frozen, he urged, “Now, sweetness.”
As if following his directions by rote, she glanced down and pressed the single button that would ring her mother, and brought the phone to her ear. As the phone rang, his hips stayed pressed against her stomach, and the very second that her mother answered, his hand strayed to her breast where he palmed it entirely.
Panicked that he would make the blatant, sexual move when she was about to engage in conversation with her mother, her lungs seized up as her gaze locked with his. She found him studying her with a relentless domination that dared her to object. She had no time to object—her mother was answering. Erin sucked in a breath and tried like hell to stay focused on the conversation that would cement her stay in Argentina. “Mom?”
“Erin, sweetheart! How’s Vegas, baby?”
“It was great.” As she gave the answer, she knew from his close proximity that Max could hear not only her end of the conversation, but her mother’s as well.
“Was? Aren’t you still there?” her mom asked.
Max pinched her nipple as if refusing to allow her to forget about him and Erin bit her lip. “No—no, I’m not.”
“You’re home then? Courtney said you’d called in a few days of vacation. Shall we go shopping today?”
“I’m not home yet.” When she said the word ‘yet,’ Max abruptly released her breast to lift her chin. With her neck angled up, his hand slid from her chin to wrap around her throat. As he stared down, his eyes became tinged with a layer of ice. She quickly backtracked on the single word that had set him off. “I mean—I’m not back. Listen, Mom, I need to tell you something. I’ve done something kind of crazy.”
There was silence for a few seconds before her mother asked soberly, “Crazy?”
Max’s hand left her throat and trailed back to her breast with utter possession—as if touching her however and wherever he wanted were his prerogative and his alone. “M—maybe not … crazy. Impetuous?”
“Well, please tell me that it was something fun. Did you buy those boots you’ve been wanting? Erin, did you max out your credit card?”
When her mother began rattling, Erin felt a wave of homesickness wash over her. “No boots and the credit line is still good. But I’m having—” she tried to keep her tone light, “—fun.” Sure. Fun. That was it. It was always fun to be kidnapped and transported to a foreign country and held almost entirely against your will—even if you were feeling an almost profound need to have mind-blowing sex with your captor again.
Her mother’s tone became serious. “What did you do, baby?”
Erin took a single breath and let it out. “You know Las Vegas is where crazy things happen, right?”
“Stop right there, young lady. I know we’re close, but I really don’t want to hear if you’ve had a—how do you kids say—a hook-up. That’s too much information!”
Erin let out a small, consoling laugh that she was in no way feeling. “Well, brace yourself, because what I did can’t be classified as a hook-up.”
“Spill it, Erin!”
“I met a man—”
Her mother broke in. “Well, that’s lovely—”
“Mom, please, let me finish.” Erin took a deep breath and blurted out, “We got married—and I’m in Argentina.”
On the other end of the line, dead silence met her words. “Mom?”
Suddenly the silence was broken with frantic words. “Argentina! Why Argentina? Are you safe? Where are you? Where in Argentina, exactly? What is this man’s name?”
“I’m perfectly fine, Mom. In fact—I’m thrilled.” Her eyes closed in denial on that ridiculous word, and when she opened them again, she found Max watching her with a not-so-pleasant look on his face. She rushed to continue, “I’m on his ranch south of Buenos Aires and it’s beautiful here. Max wanted me to assure you that you’re welcome anytime—we’d love for you to come visit.”
“Well, you can bet your little butt that I’m coming. Max? What’s his last name?” her mother ask
ed tenaciously, suspiciously—as any mother would under the circumstances.
Erin closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. “Max Villarreal.”
As if the name meant nothing to her, her mom asked, “Honey, are you sure you know what you’re doing? Marriage is a serious business. Please forgive me because I know how loveable and pretty are you—but—are you entirely certain his intentions are honorable? You come from a wealthy family and he probably knows that—are you under duress of any kind?”
She called on every ounce of her limited acting skills. “No, of course not. Mom, I promise you, Max doesn’t need our money.” Her eyes flew open and found his attention completely centered on her as she both challenged him and tried to reassure her mom, “He only wants me for me.” With those false words that even now reminded her of her hurt, Erin gave him her best dirty look in retaliation for the lie she told.
“Well, when are you coming home?” her mother asked.
“Probably not for some time, you know—we’re on our honeymoon. Maybe—maybe you should wait to come until we’ve gotten settled.” Erin thought she could bluff her way through a few phone conversations, but looking her mother in the eye? Justine would know something was wrong.
“We’ll see. Right now, I want your exact location. And I’d like a phone number other than your cell. Is that too much to ask?”
As she studied Max, he released her momentarily, unlocked the door and walked through his office to his desk. When he came back, he carried a letterhead. Erin quickly read the printed information to her mother.
Erin could tell her mom was frantically writing down the information before the older woman said, “Okay, I’ve got it. But just so you know, just to make sure this man is on the up and up, I’m calling Damian.”
At the name of her oldest brother, Max’s eyes lit up as if pleased and Erin felt her stomach drop. So, his revenge was about to begin. “Whatever you need to do to feel better about this, Mom. That’s fine.”
“That’s exactly what I want to do. Please be safe and take care. And stay in touch so I don’t freak out!”
“I will. Love you.”
“I love you, too, baby. Talk to you soon.”
After she’d disconnected the call, Max slowly released her and walked back to his desk. She followed him into the outer office and moved closer to the door and to her escape. He shifted a stack of papers and without glancing at her, he said, “You did well.”
“What choice did I have?”
“You had a choice and you made it.”
“How did you know that I’d—” she searched for the correct word, “concede? How did you know that I wouldn’t tell my mom why you’re holding me here?”
“Because I’m not holding you here—you can leave anytime you want. We’ve already gone over this, Erin, but since you’ve chosen this course, it would only make sense that you wouldn’t want your family to worry. You love them—I’ve known that since before we met. If you didn’t feel a great deal for them, this wouldn’t work.”
Once again, Erin couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t telling her the truth; she knew she was playing into his hands. She highly doubted that he’d just let her leave—no, he was manipulating her into thinking she had a choice. His scheme was too flimsy, it didn’t make sense. If she had an ounce of brainpower in her head, she’d demand to leave at once. But what if he wouldn’t let her go home? How bad would it be then? Showing her where he kept her passport truthfully meant little, as he probably damn well knew. It wasn’t as if she could walk to Buenos Aires. She had to act as if she had a choice in all of this—if she didn’t, they’d be pitted against each other to such an extreme that the ramifications of that seemed like a nightmare to her. Once again, she shut her thought process down because it didn’t bear thinking about. She didn’t want to know—not now—not yet.
When she stood too long in indecision, he rounded his desk until he was standing in front of her once again. “You’re thinking too hard about this. Stop doing that,” he hissed.
****
Chapter Seven
Max reached out for her but Erin scooted back. Even as she told herself to keep her lips sealed, that she didn’t want to know, she did just the opposite. “You’re bluffing. You don’t have anything on the corporation. You don’t have any leverage—you couldn’t. My brothers are too decent, too smart, too astute. They don’t carry debt—they’re not publicly traded. You’re bluffing—I’m going home.”
“Yeah? You want an example of what I can do to them?” His features hardened as his lips firmed into a sneer. “Before you jump on a plane, why don’t you ask about the Houston property they’ve been wanting so badly—do you know which acquisition I’m talking about?”
Suddenly feeling a cold chill run down her spine, Erin stilled. He could only be referring to one parcel of land—a very important parcel. “The hundred-acre tract on the Grand Parkway?” she asked. “Courtney already has a contract. It’s a done deal.”
“You’re wrong.”
Wrong? She couldn’t be wrong. She knew how the Rule Corporation operated, leaving nothing untouched, nothing to chance … but if what he was telling her was true, Max Villarreal was a force to be reckoned with. An opponent she needed to tread even more carefully around.
As they stared at each other in the escalating silence, her phone began ringing. Damian’s name blinking on the screen sent her nerves skyrocketing. “It’s Damian.”
“What did you expect?” Max sneered.
“What do you want me to say to him?”
“I’d be thrilled if you’d tell him that I’m holding you hostage. That you’re even now tied spread-eagled to my bed—face down—but I’m sure you’ll not want to upset him.” As if dismissing her, he walked to his desk and opened his laptop. Seemingly unconcerned and concentrating only on the screen, he said, “Truly Erin, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you say to him. He’s not my business anymore—you are.”
Even more upset now than before and deciding not to postpone the inevitable, Erin pressed the button that would accept the call while she turned and walked from the room. There was no damn way she was having this conversation in front of Max. “Hello?”
Damian’s voice blasted her immediately. “Erin? What the hell is going on?”
As she walked up the stairway that would lead her to the room where she’d slept, she attempted to keep her voice neutral. “Calm down, Damian.”
“Calm down? Calm down?” he roared.
There was only one way she could allow this conversation to go—exactly as Max predicted she would. “Well, you could congratulate me,” she suggested as she shut the door and sank down onto the middle of the bed halfheartedly, hating the web of lies and half-truths she was about to spin to her oldest—and most protective—brother.
“Congratulate you?” Erin heard something slam in the background—Damian was obviously finding it hard to get himself under control. “Honey, do you know who Maximo Villarreal is?”
She let out a resigned sigh. Did she ever. “Yes. He’s an Argentinian businessman. He told me he knows of the Rule Corp—so, I’m sure you know of him as well.”
“How did you meet him?” her brother all but snarled.
Erin pulled a pillow to her chest and hugged it. “By chance. In a restaurant in Vegas.”
“By chance?” he snorted disdainfully.
It didn’t sound as if Damian believed that for a second, and who could blame him? “Yeah—just like you’d meet anybody,” she answered.
“Look, I’m trying to control myself here, but there’s no way that you and he met by chance,” her brother bit out.
“How do you figure? What else could it have been other than coincidental?” she challenged.
“Honey—I know you’re smart—and pretty,” he said in a tone that said he was trying to hold himself in check. “But it seems too unreal that the two of you would just meet like that. Have you considered he might have sought you out delib
erately?”
Flying by the seat of her pants and only concerned for the moment that Max didn’t get his damn revenge through her, she set out to speak in calm tones to her brother. “For what reason?”
“To get to us.”
Knowing exactly who ‘us’ was, she didn’t pretend otherwise. “Why would he want to do that?”
Damian didn’t answer her question, only seemed to set out to soothe her. Like that would work. “Listen to me Erin, you’re safe, okay? I don’t know what kind of bullshit the motherfucker has told you—and it doesn’t matter right now. You’ve made a mistake, but I’m going to fix it. I’m going to catch the next flight out of here—”
“No—don’t do that!”
“I’m coming to get you—to bring you home.”
Erin closed her eyes to regroup and when she did, she heard the subtle hiss of the door opening and then closing. She opened her eyes, and found Max in the threshold, watching her. She took a cleansing breath and resolved to answer her brother with something that he’d believe—something that was doubly hard to say with her husband staring at her. “I don’t want to come home.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re saying. Listen to me, Erin. Villarreal is holding a grudge against us, of that we’re certain. He’s been making offensive moves against us.”
She stalled, trying to make it seem as if she was hearing this for the first time. “What kind of moves?”
“For one thing, he’s dogging our tracks—he’s out to keep us from acquiring the property we need. He’s buying shit out from under us right and left—driving up prices beyond what’s reasonable.”
“Maybe he’s just a good businessman,” she suggested in a subdued tone, watching from the corner of her eye as Max locked the door and then leaned against it.
“Never said he wasn’t. There’s no question that he’s filthy, filthy rich—”
