A Ruthless Lust

by Raquel Belle

  “You’re so cool.”

  Wyatt grinned. “Most say we’re ‘nerds,’ but I say, we’re the cool ones.”

  “Hell yeah.” Abby sighed and grabbed his hand to give it a squeeze. “Don’t worry about me, okay? You need to focus on being a college student and all that young people stuff.”

  “Young people stuff?” He scoffed. “How old are you? Eighty?”

  With a weary grin, her brows elevated. “Trying to keep the peace in this family ages one very quickly.”

  “Go back to New York, Abby. You were happier away from this hell hole.”

  “I can be happy wherever you are. We’ll talk later. Okay?”

  Wyatt nodded, but the look on his face still held concern. He wasn’t stupid. He knew something was up. Abby’s reassuring smile disappeared as she walked off.

  Elaina managed to brush Abby’s wild waves into some semblance of order and added a bit of color to her lips. Abby batted her hand away each time she tried to add mascara and blush. “I’m not Cinderella going to the ball for Christ’s sake. Lay off the clown makeup.”

  Elaina huffed. “You need to look presentable.”

  “We don’t even know that Damian is here to see me yet. For all we know he’s here to rip us all a new one because an Aldridge crashed his party.”

  Celeste appeared in the doorway of Elaina’s room just then. Her lips were tight and her cheeks pink. Elaina and Abby stared at each other, wondering what happened between her and Damian. “Actually, he’s here to see you, Abby.” Celeste’s brows were creased as if she couldn’t believe Abby had caught Damian’s interest after all.

  She was insulted that her own mother seemed so surprised that a man might be interested in her. Not that she thought Damian really was interested…she was sure he wanted to speak with her for some other reason. But still, it was very insulting. To her annoyance, Elaina appeared equally shocked. “Oh my God, you spoke to him as yourself, and he’s interested. I don’t get it.”

  Grabbing the brush from Elaina’s hand, Abby slammed it down and glowered. “Thank you for the confidence in my ability to interact with a member of the human race! God, you’re acting like I really want him to like me. We hate him. Remember that.”

  “He assumes you live here,” Celeste said. “Don’t let him know otherwise. If he grows fond of you maybe we can use that to keep the house, at least.”

  Abby refrained from reminding her mother that she hadn’t yet succeeded in seducing the man, so there was no certainty that he would become fond of her any time soon. Standing up, she smoothed the long-sleeved purple silk top that Elaina loaned her. It was a little loose around the chest. “Don’t you have anything smaller? You know from your pre breast implant era?”

  “No …,” Elaina said, hating to be called out for any work she’d had done. Abby smirked. At least the pair of black jeans fit perfectly. She wasn’t the fashionista her mother wanted her to be. She had even worried about her lack of style when she landed her dream job in New York, but she knew she could have maneuvered her way around that fashion scene just fine. She might have even called Elaina for advice and they’d have something to talk about instead of hurling insults at each other.

  She sighed as she slipped her feet into black, half boots, still thinking about the job she gave up to come home and be with her family. Maybe Wyatt was right. Maybe she would have been better off staying in New York. She’d moved back home just to be used as an instrument for revenge.

  She sighed again. You’re the one allowing yourself to be used. It was true. Her current predicament was her fault. She’d agreed to the scheme because she hated Damian Coldwell just as much as Celeste and Elaina seemed to. Heading down the stairs, she allowed her resentment of the callous jerk to take over. It would help her to remember why she was doing what she was doing. Her steps faltered at the last stair. He hadn’t been a jerk when she’d spoken to him anonymously, had he? No, he’d seemed ... likable.

  Whatever. Her father was dead because Damian was a power-hungry son-of-a-bitch. He was going down. She kept that same energy as she searched the living room and foyer for him. The front door stood ajar. She walked toward it, wondering why he chose to wait outside in the cold rather than inside. Maybe his guilt was too heavy for him to set foot into the Aldridge home. Yanking the door open further, Abby had to fight down the same wave of attraction she’d felt the night before. How could she still be attracted to him after finding out who he was?

  There Damian stood, his imposing figure clad in a long, black coat. He was looking every bit a mobster. Perhaps he’d been a mob boss or a henchman before he acquired his wealth. Maybe that was how he’d gotten the money to start out in the business world. Her imagination ran wild.

  In the light of day, she got a much better look at him. His hair wasn’t black but rather a coffee-brown that appeared black in some lighting. It was medium length—long enough to move with the wind—with a stubborn lock falling over his brow. His nose was slightly crooked as if it had been broken before. That along with his dark eyes, which seemed to hold many secrets, only made him look scarier, yet sexy as hell. She gave herself a mental kick for that last thought.

  Undeniably, Damian was attractive in a rugged kind of way. He was worlds away from the soft, polished businessmen she was accustomed to seeing. Even the planes and angles of his face were sharp and chiseled, most likely making him intimidating to everyone he ever did business with. Not only did he look like he could take someone down with a mildly delivered right hook, he also oozed the tough guy vibe, especially with the thin, long scar sitting above his top lip.

  Abby blinked—self-loathing filling her. Why did she have to find him so alluring? He was the enemy.

  “Abby Aldridge,” Damian said, his obsidian eyes sliding over her from head-to-toe. Meeting her gaze, his expression hardened. “We meet again.”

  Chapter Five

  Damian

  Something in Damian stirred at the sight of Abby. Some strange magnetism that made him want to see her and to touch her. It was the same feeling he’d gotten last night before he’d discovered she was a member of the family he so passionately despised. That was why he found himself at the Aldridge mansion. He had to look at her again in the light of day, knowing who she was, and prove to himself that he wasn’t attracted to her.

  His experiment did not conclude as he’d hoped. He was still attracted. Damian mentally swore. He wanted to kick himself six ways to Sunday and back. Why couldn’t he just let it go? All he’d had to do was forget he’d ever met Abby. Forget she’d ever brightened his dull night and given him a reprieve from his many demons, if only for a few minutes.

  “Mr. Coldwell. What are you doing here?”

  He smiled. That’s the same question he was asking himself ...

  And she did indeed look sweet enough to eat, with her long, vibrant tresses floating around her shoulders. Her porcelain-like skin took on a pink hue the longer she stood in the doorway, exposed to the cold air. Guilt clawed at him for having the lady outside in the cold, but there was no way was he about to set foot into the den of snakes, especially after the less than warm greeting he’d received from that hateful harpy, Celeste.

  “Maybe, I’m here to prove to you that I’m not a pompous ass, or a slaver.”

  Her skin changed from pink to red within seconds. It was sweet, the way she readily blushed. Perhaps she wasn’t jaded and cold-hearted like the rest of her clan. “I did not call you a slaver, Damian, and you know it.” She blushed harder. “May I call you Damian?”

  To his annoyance, his heart was melting just a little in Abby’s presence. The thought that he should use the sweet Abby and discard her, just for kicks as further revenge on the Aldridge family, was starting to seem a bit cruel. Instantly, he hardened his heart. He wouldn’t get ahead of himself and fall for the innocence that she exuded. How did he know she wasn’t like her mother or sister?

  “Sure.”

  “Would you like to come in? It’s freezing.”


  He looked over her shoulder into the spacious foyer. “No. Would you mind stepping outside?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. He thought she would refuse, but she let out a breath. “Let me get my coat.”

  With a single nod, he turned away and closed the door.

  “What are you doing, Coldwell?” he asked himself. Try as he might, he couldn’t come up with a definitive answer. He really wanted Abby. He was curious about her. He wanted to find out why she’d shown up at his charity event. He wanted to use her to hurt the Aldridge family, in addition to taking everything they owned. Wiping a hand over his face, he exhaled long and hard, watching his breath form a white fog. What he should do would be to march back to his car and speed away from the reach of this entire family.

  He was a twisted bastard, wanting the daughter of the man he hated, of the man he’d supposedly led to take his own life. Damian waited for the faintest bit of guilt to seep in. There was none. With a humorless laugh, he shook his head. What could he tell Abby? Hey, I know I ruined your father and indirectly killed him, but I think you’re cute. Want to date?

  Laughter bubbled in his chest. Date. Since when was that a part of his vocabulary? He didn’t date. He had sex with women for kicks, so why did Abby make him think about dating? He didn’t get to analyze his thought because the door opened. Abby stepped out, a tiny ice princess in a black cashmere coat and matching hat and gloves. Curious eyes landed on him. “Well, I’m outside. Are you going to tell me why you’re really here?”

  “I see there’s no beating around the bush with you.”

  “Not when there’s a high probability of freezing to death. Spit it out, Coldwell.” Her mouth clamped shut, and she inhaled. “I … I mean. Please, just tell me why you’re here.”

  Amused, he studied her intently, wondering why he found her feisty outburst such a turn on. He was disappointed when she seemed to reel her temper back in. He looked her straight in the eyes. “Fine. Why were you at my charity event last night?”

  Cocking an elegantly arched brow, she looked every bit the haughty, rich princess. An Aldridge, he reminded himself bitterly. “I have a soft spot for kids. I hate the idea of them or anyone else going hungry. I heard about your event from a friend and thought it was a worthy cause.”

  With narrowed eyes he searched her face, looking for the slightest hint of dishonesty. “Surely you know who I am.”

  Again, the brow went up. “Damian Coldwell.”

  “I bought your father’s company before he passed away.”

  Abby didn’t even blink. “Did you? I know nothing about my father’s business affairs.”

  Damian gritted his teeth. If the woman was lying, she was damn good. He found himself hoping that she really was ignorant of what transpired between him and her father. “So, you made a donation last night, did you?”

  “Of course. I didn’t show up just to look pretty, Damian. It was a charity event.”

  “With what money? I believe your family’s financial situation is ... precarious at the moment.” He waited for that temper he’d gotten a glimpse of to erupt. For her to break character…if she was, indeed, acting.

  Abby’s chin jutted out. “With my money. Is this how you show your benefactors your gratitude? My family’s financial situation has nothing to do with me. I’ve been out of the loop for years. I only came home when I received news of my father’s death. Pardon me for taking the time to grieve before delving into the family’s financial state.”

  Her tone rang with indignation and those pale, blue eyes seemed to darken to an electric blue that shot sparks of fire at him. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman so badly in his life. Realizing he’d somehow moved closer to her like an angry prosecutor, he took a step back. “You were in so much grief, yet you had the energy to get all dressed and go to a party?”

  “I needed the distraction, some time away from this house and the ghost of my father.” Her lips quivered. “He donated to charity all the time. I felt like I was honoring him in a way.”

  Unshed tears brightened her eyes and he took another step back. It was the first time in a long while that he felt like the savage that many accused him of being. At thirty-six, his mother would still box his ears if she were to witness him handling a lady in such a manner, especially a lady in mourning. Shoving a hand through his hair, Damian muttered, in a not-so-smooth transition, “Have lunch with me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If you need a distraction and more time away from here, then have lunch with me.”

  Abby blinked. “You show up here, interrogate me like a hound-dog detective, insult me, and now you want me to have lunch with you?”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he nodded. “Yes.”

  Her laugh was like tiny fingers feathering across his skin. “Do you get many dates with this tactic?”

  “Well, as tactics go, this is the first time I’ve ever tried one as peculiar as this.”

  She held his gaze, her mouth twitching until a smile broke through. He found himself smiling back. How did she do it? Make him want to smile. He had a plastic smile for business, and a practiced smile for women when he wanted to get between their legs, but since last night he’d squeezed out more than a few genuine smiles in Abby’s presence.

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then, I’d invite you to dinner instead.”

  Abby shook her head. “Interrogation and insult before asking me out ... You have an interesting kind of charm, Damian.”

  “Is it working on you?”

  “God help me. It is, because I’m about to have lunch with you.”

  This time, he gave her a satisfied smirk.

  Chapter Six

  Abby

  Abby tried her best to stamp out a serious case of nerves. She was in Damian’s car—it looked like the vintage silver one she’d seen in a Bond movie—on their way to whichever spot he was taking her to. He’d tested her, and holy hell, it seemed she’d passed. As it turned out, when push came to shove, she was one hell of an actress. Of course, all of the answers to his questions held some truth. She did in fact make a donation to his charity. She did need to cover her ass if he ever went digging though. It was nothing spectacular, but a nice chunk of change from her trust that no one, not even her own mother, knew about. Her father hadn’t even used his trusted lawyer, Henry, for the account. For years she’d followed her father’s instructions and told not a soul about her trust, which she’d gotten full control of at twenty-one even though her father had still been alive. Although, she hadn’t touched a dime of it until her donation to Damian’s charity.

  It was clear now why her father had done what he did. Celeste simply couldn’t be trusted with any large sums of money. The woman was too caught up with living the high life and maintaining appearances. And Henry, the sleaze, wasn’t so loyal after all. Now, even with the Aldridge finances in the dumps, she could ensure that no matter what, Wyatt would finish school and would be taken care of until he took out on his own.

  A wave of unease hit Abby as she turned to stare out the window. Had her father foreseen the family’s current situation? She’d been far away from home but they talked all the time. Why didn’t he tell her that something was wrong? Why hadn’t he told her about the threat that was Damian? Then again, the way Henry Sullivan and everyone else told the story, Damian came out of nowhere had and swiped the company right out from under Caleb.

  “Are you alright?”

  The voice of her father’s enemy filtered into her mind. Turning to him with a neutral expression—one which she had no idea how she’d managed to pull of—she nodded. “Fine.”

  “You’re quiet.”

  “How do you know I’m not always quiet?”

  “The brief times in your company have shown me that you speak your mind.”

  “Are you attracted to women who speak their minds?”

  He gave her a fleeting glance and grinned. “Not usually. Too much trouble.”

  �
��So, what is this thing between you and me then? I’m not your type.”

  “Maybe not, but since last night I seem to have developed a thing for witty redheads.”

  Abby’s heart fluttered. He was into her. Why couldn’t she be on her way to a lunch date with a nice man whom she’d met at an art gallery or a bookstore? A man who she wasn’t about to seduce and betray. Of course, fate had to be a twisted bitch about it and put a man she might grow to like directly in her path…only to have him turn out to be her father’s murderer. In all fairness, Damian hadn’t put a hand on her father. But he was guilty as sin in her book.

  Shaking off her morbid thoughts, Abby sat up and turned in her seat. “So, a sports car, huh?”

  “Is something wrong with that?”

  “I’m not a fan. And this flashy, tiny piece of metal doesn’t suit you.”

  “No? And what do you think would suit me?”

  “Something much bigger and more powerful. Like you.”

  The heated glance he directed at her nearly melted her on the spot. Luckily, he returned his attention to the road. Eyes that intense she should be outlawed. “Maybe I drove this flashy, tiny piece of metal to impress you.”

  “I doubt that. Plus, I’m pretty sure you remember me telling you that I’m not really in to those exuberantly rich lifestyles.”

  “I remember perfectly, Black Sheep. Perhaps I thought you were lying. You do live in a sprawling mansion, and you dress like a rich princess.”

  Abby mentally snickered. Oh, how wrong he was. She actually lived in a modest apartment and nothing she had on—except for her underwear–belonged to her. To tell Damian or not to tell Damian? Abby contemplated. She’d snagged his attention by being herself. Elaina’s advice on how to act like Damian’s type was completely null and void at this point. Why not give him the full dose of Abby and see where it got her? Well, maybe not the full dose. She didn’t want him knowing where she really lived. “I have a confession, Damian.”