by Ellen March
An irritated scowl swept his features, and he slapped his glasses back up his nose. “If I can be allowed to finish, I’ll tell you.”
She shot him a withering glare and pursed her lips. Though judging him to be an obnoxious git, she wisely kept quiet.
“The Orangery is a club,” he explained, before passing across a sheath of papers detailing its description. “It’s currently being run by the manageress—a Miss Charu McDonald.”
“What sort of club is it?” Her interest was piqued, and she felt a storm of relief that it wasn’t an orchard. Her gaze roved over the picture she held; already she loved the place. It was a solitary granite house set on grounds of rolling green.
“You’ll discover that when you get there. It’s not my position to influence you in any way. Although you may decide to sell it.”
Savannah shook her head. “No chance. I like the picture.” Her impulsive nature kicked in. “Where is it?”
“About thirty miles from here, outside the village of Marsdon. Once you know when you’re going to be moving in, I’ll ring and inform them.” He paused. “There’s also a small sum in her personal account that you can claim; however, the business side of it looks pretty dire.”
“You mean it’s losing money?”
“A lot,” he confirmed.
Again she looked down at the picture she held. She smiled, and her eyes glistened. She still couldn’t believe how her luck had changed. Savannah didn’t care what sort of club it was. She was going to make it work. “Then I’ll have to see what I can do to reverse that,” she stated and flashed Cato a triumphant grin.
***
Micah swore long and hard, his foot flat to the accelerator. The ancient wreck that Rio had delighted in saddling him with trundled along. He could have decked him when he saw what he’d be forced to drive to the club.
Neither had he missed the glint of mischief crossing his friend’s face when he demanded his credit cards.
Every single one.
Rio had only stopped short of frisking him when he saw how his black glare burned and his fists clenched and unclenched in warning.
Micah had a short fuse at the best of times, and now he was at boiling point.
Turning the car onto a meandering, leafy lane, he looked around at the rolling landscape. In the distance, a large grey house stood out against the greenery. Nearing it, he could make out a number of wooden cabins to the side. They were nestled amid a cover of shrubs and purple hydrangeas.
Micah took in the sight of the plain granite building. It was cold and sterile, in stark contrast to its vibrant surroundings. Tall windows blinked and twinkled in the afternoon sunshine. The only splash of colour came from the vivid orange double doors. Pinned alongside was a large sign in green and gold. THE ORANGERY was emblazoned across it in an exaggerated swirl.
Micah flung open the door of the inferior car he’d been forced to drive and yanked his bag out. His Lamborghini, Ferrari, and Aston Martin had been confiscated, along with his cards. But he had to concede it would be unbelievable that a bouncer would pull up in one of those. He stood and squinted across at another large sign that stood alongside the gravel parking area. Apart from his, there were only two other vehicles there.
It was quiet, and he briefly checked the time before snatching up his holdall and striding towards the entrance. Micah was fervently regretting having agreed to this stupid bet, but he’d never been able to turn down a challenge.
Rio had known that.
He sincerely hoped that his so-called friend was going to fail in his mission of bedding the mystery woman. Because after this crazy stunt, Micah knew he was going to take great pleasure in screwing her and getting his revenge.
Especially after what could be a dry period.
Micah nudged at the door and wandered inside. The large lobby had rich, panelled walls, giving it an elegant appearance. Until he spotted the scratches and neglect on the once polished wood. The tiled floor was a deep red web of hairline cracks that ran across several of them—testimony to the constant wear and tear.
Micah glanced curiously around. Only stillness greeted him. Suddenly a side door swung open. His sexual interest rose at the vision walking slowly towards him.
“I’ve been expecting you. I take it you’re Micah?” The woman’s predatory gaze slid over him. She liked very much what she saw. He exuded so much testosterone she felt her pussy twitch and dampen. If she’d been wearing any, her knickers would be wet. “I’m Charu McDonald. Pleased to meet you.” She held her hand out and made her move.
His grip was hard as his fingers tangled with hers.
“Honey, the pleasure is all mine.” He gave a wicked wink, his lips tugged into a grin, and he flashed her a sexy smile. Maybe the coming month won’t be so bad, he thought, conveniently forgetting he was supposed to be gay.
“Rio rang. He said you’d be arriving today,” she all but purred. Her tongue snaked out and slicked across her lips.
Originally she’d been annoyed when Rio hadn’t come in person; he was one awesome male. But taking in the man before her, she smiled. She was more than pleased.
“What he didn’t say was what you looked like.” Charu sucked in a slow breath. “You sure you’re not available?” She wished that Kitty hadn’t devised such a stupid male employee policy. That they all had to be gay. Why, she didn’t know, and up until now it hadn’t bothered her.
But this man before her was a whole new ball game.
Micah tried to temper his dick, which hardened beneath the fabric of his jeans. He knew instinctively she was his kind of woman—horny, hot, and available. But he was supposed to be gay.
Shit, he thought. Rio is an evil bastard.
He toyed with the idea of pretending to be bisexual. Eventually he breathed out his answer, “Honey, I’m available, but unfortunately you know it won’t be you.” He carefully studied her. “Any good-looking males around here?” Micah almost gagged on the words.
He knew Rio and he knew why he hadn’t mentioned this woman. If he bedded her, Rio would find out and the bet would be over. Shit, but he was a sneaky son of a bitch. No wonder he was so good in the security game. He left nothing to chance.
Micah was aware that he’d been labelled a lying, controlling bastard in the boardroom or making a deal, wearing down the owners until they agreed to his demands. Believing the end justified the means helped him spill out the lies. Yet this one stuck in his throat … to pretend he was gay when all he wanted was to make love to this woman.
He swore again he was going to get back at Rio. He knew damn well he didn’t do dry. It hadn’t been twenty-four hours and he was already gagging for it.
Heck, it wasn’t the cash he couldn’t do without, it was the sex.
Yet he felt a peculiar sense of unease, only too aware that he had no money. The power had been taken out of his hands—Rio knew that. Micah had succeeded in business because of his drive to prove he didn’t need anyone. He answered only to himself. Yet here he was out on a limb, due to some crazy bet.
Micah shook his head, determined to get his own back.
The next time Rio rang him for a chat in the early hours, he would tell him where to go. Yet he knew he couldn’t; his insatiable curiosity wouldn’t allow it. Because his friend was a hedonistic basket of delights. He lived on the edge. For Rio, you were only living if you took everything to the limit, whether that meant pursuing the thrill of extreme sports or winning over the supposedly unobtainable woman. He was one wild and crazy man. And he was also the only person Micah could truly trust.
***
Charu nibbled on one glaring red nail. She held it to her pearly white teeth, considering Micah’s reply. Something didn’t ring true—she could sense it. She dropped her gaze to his heavy crotch and decided that no way was he refusing her. If he really were gay, then she was about to give him an education in heterosexuality.
“Follow me. I’ll show you to your room, and then I’ll give you a rundown on what’s
expected of you.” She gave him another once-over as she explained, “The private quarters are reached through the lobby. There’s an access code to the door.” She grabbed the keys, so pleased she’d worn the short flared skirt. She intentionally kept a few steps ahead of him going up the stairs.
Micah followed and knew damn well the game was on. As his dark gaze trickled over the cheeks of the taut ass bouncing before him, he glanced down at his crotch, which was growing by the minute.
He smothered a groan and continued in painful silence.
***
Charu sat in the small office cluttered with paper and held the receiver to her ear. Her elfin face had paled.
She gripped the phone tight, a twirl of anger ravaging her inners. “Yes, thank you, of course.” She barely managed to keep the shock from her voice. “When can we expect her?” Rising, she crossed to the window and stared out at the landscape, her pale blue eyes narrowed to icy slits. “Of course.” With a long, angry huff of breath, she clicked it off.
Immediately she dialled again, her fingers drumming against her thigh. She prayed it wouldn’t go to message, because this was serious. So much for his contacts, she thought with a flash of fury.
“At last,” she snapped.
“Whoa, what’s wrong with you?” He was in his car on hands free, his thoughts on a particular female.
“I’ve just had a call off the solicitor. No wonder they’ve been taking so long.”
A frown creased his forehead and he pulled into a layby, snatching the phone to his ear. “What are you talking about?”
“The new owner, a Savannah Shore, is arriving tomorrow,” she snapped, still unable to believe what she’d heard.
“But that’s impossible. Kitty didn’t have any relatives.”
“According to you, but obviously you were wrong.” She spun around from the window and marched in sharp strides around the room. “Now what do we do?”
He sucked in a ragged sigh and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Killing Kitty had been comparatively easy—a hit-and-run. She hadn’t been in her right mind for years, didn’t know where she was or who she was. He reasoned it had been a mercy killing, except he’d had enough of waiting for her to die.
Now it looked like he’d have to arrange the same thing again.
“So what are we going to do? What if she wants to look at the records?” pushed Charu.
“Stop panicking. I need to think. Do you know anything about her?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Then get rid of the books, hide them. If she asks, tell her they’re being audited at the accountant’s.”
“Yeah, and then?”
“I work out a plan to kill her. Because one way or the other, the club will be ours.”
Chapter Four
Savannah glared at her brother. “You can’t be serious.” Nausea trundled in her stomach. The euphoria of owning a business, a house, and a club all rolled into a single package dived in one harsh plunge.
“Sis, it’s time we went our separate ways. This is your chance to live.” His eyes glazed with tears. No way did he want to be apart from her, but they both had to move on, especially her. She had to get a life.
“But I want you with me,” she insisted. “I don’t want to be alone.” Her face crumpled and she sniffled.
Cato immediately crossed to her. They’d been standing in the lounge when he’d dropped his bombshell. The room wasn’t a lot bigger than the kitchen. For a two-bedroom house, it was seriously tiny. However it was all they could afford.
He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. “Sis, you know I’ll always be here for you.” Cato winced at his words, because it had always been the other way around. His hand stroked her hair and he suffered her tears soaking into his shirt.
“But why can’t you come with me?” She was hiccoughing now, and with her snorting and sniffing, she sounded like a warthog rummaging for food.
“Because with you out of the way, I can move the new hair stylist in.” He tried to resist the grin that always appeared at the thought of Callum. Slight, talented, dark and oh so sexy.
Savannah’s breath hitched at his words and she leant her head back to stare up at him. “What did you just say?” Her misery and self-pitying sobs dragged to a sudden halt.
Cato pinched her cheek playfully. “Come on, Sis, you know I’ve got the hots for him. And hell, there’s no way I’m packing my job in. I love it.”
Confusion rumbled over her, along with a glut of pain. “What about me?” Her voice quivered.
“Come on, Anna.” He always reverted to his nickname when he wanted something. “You know that by now we should be living separate lives. And this is a good opportunity.” His words were low, coaxing, seductive.
“I didn’t know I was cramping your style.” She pushed against him, rage overtaking despair. She’d done everything for him, gone without, lived the life of a nun. And now he was prepared to drop her at the first excuse?
“You’re not.” Cato gripped her shoulders. He was determined to get through to her, and she was acting like a bereaved parent. In a way, he thought, she was. “But this is a chance for you, Anna,” he said. “A chance for you to live your own life and stop worrying about me.”
Her hand cupped his cheek as she debated whether to smack him good and hard for what he was suggesting. But then she changed her mind. “Cato, I can’t leave you. We’ve been together too long.”
“You can and you will. I’ll take you up to the new place, settle you in, and then come back here.” He dropped a tiny kiss on to her upturned forehead. “Okay?”
Her watery glaze swept over him. “But we’ve never been apart.”
Cato shook his head. For the first time ever, she was the child and he was the adult. “Then maybe it’s about time we were. Besides, it’s only thirty miles up the road. Not exactly far, is it?”
Savannah couldn’t argue with his reasoning. Yet she felt as if her child was being wrenched from her. At the thought of Cato abandoning her, she couldn’t stop the snivels of despair, along with a glut of hurt.
She was redundant now—he was the independent one.
***
Savannah ambled up to the café. For once her sunny smile was missing; she felt the weight of the world. Though she wanted this chance, she felt confused and scared to be going it alone. Sucking in a nervous swallow, she glanced down at her resignation, written out on a scrap of paper.
As she walked in, a wave of relief blasted over her. Finally she could tell them where to stick their job. Her gaze settled on Slade, seated at his usual table, and she shuddered. He was watching her like a randy tom cat.
Slade was monitoring every bounce of her chest. He could almost visualize sucking on her nipples. He knew they were dark brown, had seen the shadow of them beneath the material. He rubbed his hand over his engorged erection that had swiftly grown from lazy lob to rampant hard-on.
“Morning, Savannah.” He smiled from behind his shades whilst he scrubbed a hand across the roughness of his chin.
She gave him a brief nod then continued on past.
He continued to watch her as she bustled about, eventually arriving at his table. “Anything wrong?” He’d noticed her excited agitation as she buzzed between customers.
“It’s my last week,” she said. All morning she’d endeavoured to contain her emotional shifts, which kept veering back and forth between excitement and fear.
Slade sat up from his characteristic slouch, his focus sharpening. “What do you mean?”
“I’m moving away. It’s personal, but let’s just say it’s a godsend and I’m finished here.” She tapped her pencil against the small pad and looked down at him. “The usual, I take it?”
Slade gave a brief nod. He didn’t like her words. The fact that he wouldn’t be seeing her every day.
“So, where are you going?”
She couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. “Away from here,” was all she said, and
continued with her orders.
Life, she decided finally, couldn’t get any better. Apart from Cato …. And again the gloom descended.
She’d stopped noticing Slade’s lascivious gaze, more calculating than ever.
He’d track her, he decided. Wherever she settled, he’d be there, awaiting his chance. Someday soon she would be his.
***
It was the day of the move, or to be more specific, the day of the transition from one house to another. Because Savannah didn’t have many personal possessions. A host of photos of Cato growing up and a load of mismatched, oversized clothes. And all were scrunched into her battered holdall. She didn’t bother with makeup, and jewellery had never been important to her. Well, that was a lie, but better not to want what you’d never be able to afford.
Cato ignored her wails. She’d cried every time they’d switched houses. Which was why it had been so difficult for the solicitor to track her down. However, this time was different; she was moving on alone for the first time.
Savannah stood and sniffed, gazing around the room. “There are so many memories here.”
“Bullshit,” said Cato with a shake of his head. “What about the last six houses we’ve left?”
She shot him a look of reproach. “Needs must, and you should be glad I was savvy and got us out of shit.” Savannah nibbled on her lip, a new thought having occurred to her. “Got to be honest, though, that solicitor should go into debt collecting. He’s the only one who’s found me.”
At last Cato managed to herd her out of the house; he slid into the driver’s seat of the small car and waited. Eventually she chucked her bag into the back and slumped with a dramatic humph into her seat.
“Do your seatbelt up,” he ordered. He tamped down a grin as she struggled with it.
Yanking hard she finally clipped it in. “Well, come on then,” she snapped.
***
