Blackmailed by the Italian Billionaire

Chapter Eight



Luc tasted her sweetness. Briefly, he was tempted to push her beyond the limits she had already set out, but he could sense the tension radiating from her body. He made do with a question instead.

“Alone, cara?”

He almost smiled as she gave him a filthy look out of those beautiful, extremely expressive eyes. Then she turned and stalked off.

“Damn,” he muttered as the door slammed closed behind her. He ran a hand through his hair—he was in big trouble. Sighing, he sank down onto the cream leather sofa and tried not to think about the fact that he was so hot and hard it was painful. Or the fact that it was turning into a regular occurrence.

That wasn’t what worried him. He knew he could seduce her, but he was starting to realize that as far as Lia Brent was concerned, mere seduction wasn’t enough. He wanted her to come to him freely. And that bothered him. A lot. He still didn’t trust her, wasn’t sure he could ever trust Jimmy Brent’s daughter or forget what he owed the man.

He’d told himself Lia was business, purely a way of reaching her father and getting the revenge he craved. Told himself that the sex had been an added bonus, unimportant. He’d been lying. He wanted her again, had since that night, quite desperately, beyond reason.

Jimmy Brent had gone, no doubt, done his disappearing act because he knew Luc was after him, believed that Luc wouldn’t rest until he had made him pay. He was wrong. The choice had been a hard one, but in the end, he’d been happy to forget Jimmy. Now he wanted nothing more than the opportunity to forget him again. At least for the foreseeable future, until he had sated himself with Jimmy’s delectable daughter. He closed his eyes and imagined sinking once again into her silky depths.

With a groan, he rested his head against the back of the sofa. He needed a cold shower, or maybe a hot steamy one, where he could indulge in one of those fantasies. But he knew if he stayed here with Lia only a few feet away, no doubt curled up all warm and sweet in his spare room, then he might go seriously insane. He had to get out of there. In some ways, he’d been running from his past life. Maybe it was time to embrace it, blow off some steam, and he knew just the person to help him. He reached across and picked up his cell phone.

“Gary?”

“What the f*ck…it’s nearly midnight.”

Luc grinned. “Yeah, the night’s still young. You want a drink?”

Gary was silent for a second. “I’ll be outside in fifteen minutes.”

“Take a cab,” Luc advised. “You won’t be wanting to drive.”

He showered quickly, dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt, and a black leather jacket—a remnant from his misspent youth—and headed out of the building. Gary raised an eyebrow when he saw him, then grinned.

Gary was tall and sandy-haired, and looked mean enough to scare anything that might be wandering the streets of London after midnight. He’d also been Luc’s best friend while they were growing up. They’d terrorized the streets together, gone after the same girls, watched each other’s backs, and managed to keep one step ahead of the law.

Gary had joined the army when he was seventeen. Luc had very nearly joined with him, but his father hadn’t been long dead, and Luc had still been determined to make those responsible pay. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder what his life would have been like if he’d enlisted with his friend. It was amazing how a single decision could affect your whole life and the lives of those around you. Would his mother have gone back to her family if he hadn’t gotten into trouble? She’d always sworn she wouldn’t.

Gary had left the army six years ago after a bomb blast in Afghanistan had left him with a permanent limp. He’d been unable to find a job, and Luc had offered him the position of head of security for his company. Now, he was in charge of hiring and firing the security force, but also headed up any investigative work Luc needed doing. He was good at his job.

“I kept the cab,” Gary said. “You want to go west or east?”

“East,” Luc said. “I have an urge to visit our old haunts tonight.”

“I know of a few places that might still be open. I’ll take you on a pub crawl.”

They were silent as they drove through the quiet streets, but as they settled down in the darkened booth of the first pub, Gary sat back, one arm along the seat, and studied him. “So what’s brought on this bout of nostalgia? Or need I ask?”

Luc took a long pull of his beer while he considered what to say. Gary was the only one he’d talked to about Lia—Luc had asked him to do a standard background check on her, before he’d left for the States. “Lia’s staying at the apartment until this is sorted out.”

“You know you’re making a mistake not letting me handle this,” Gary said.

“Yeah, and you know how I know—because you’ve told me a hundred times.”

“You’re too close, and it’s my job. You should listen to me. She’s obviously a treacherous bitch, and you’re a fool to go anywhere near her, let alone let her into your apartment.”

“Probably.”

Gary considered him for a moment. “Don’t take this wrong, but Harley reckons you’re thinking with your dick and not your head.”

Anger flashed through him, but he pushed it down. Gary was genuinely concerned. He might not have been around, but he knew the havoc Jimmy Brent had caused in his life. “You’ve spoken to Harley?”

“When I was preparing the report.”

“But you came up with nothing to suggest that she’s in contact with Jimmy?”

“Maybe not. All I’m saying is—don’t lose sight of who she is, and who her father is. Don’t trust her.”

Luc swallowed the last of his drink. Wasn’t he here to forget about Lia? And her father. He held up his empty glass. “Aren’t we supposed to be drinking?”

Gary grinned. “Hell, yeah. As you said, the night is still young.”

…



“Stupid machine!” Lia snarled, staring at the coffee machine in disgust. She couldn’t even work out how to turn it on.

It had taken her ages to fall asleep last night. She’d lain with the feel of Luc’s lips on her own, the taste of him filling her mouth, despite the fact that she had scrubbed her teeth for five minutes. When she had finally dropped off it was to her usual dreams, and she’d tossed and turned all night.

Something had awoken her in the early hours of the morning, and she’d lain in the extremely comfortable bed wondering what to do. She couldn’t go back to sleep and eventually, at six thirty, the need for coffee had driven her from her room. Coffee was an absolute necessity for her first thing in the morning. Not an option.

She stared at the machine disconsolately, then left the kitchen and wandered back into the huge living area. There was no sign of Luc, but a sound from above made her glance up. The door to the rooftop conservatory was open, and she tiptoed up the spiral staircase and peered out. For a moment, all seemed quiet, then the splash of water broke the silence. Lia froze. She edged through the doorway.

Luc’s long body sliced through the water, his movements swift and economical. He moved easily, fluid and graceful, and Lia was filled with the same awe she’d always felt in the past when watching a beautiful horse move. Well, she acknowledged honestly, not quite the same feeling.

Luc came to a halt at the end closest to where she hovered, shuffling from foot to foot. Lia knew she should go but was quite unable to make herself do it. She told herself it was cowardly to run, that she had to get used to Luc if she was going to have any peace over the next few days or however long it took before he realized her father was a no-show. Mind you, she didn’t think she would ever get used to Luc looking like this, the water gleaming on the golden skin of his shoulders and chest.

He wiped the water from his eyes. “Join me.”

Lia shook her head. “I don’t have a suit.”

“Neither do I,” he drawled.

Definitely time to walk away, but again, she couldn’t bring herself to move. She stood glued to the spot as he pulled himself out of the water in one smooth motion, the muscles rippling under his honey-gold flesh.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she stood there mesmerized, unable to glance away. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. And he was naked. Absolutely, unashamedly naked.

He stood, almost seeming to pose for her, stretching his long, lean body sinuously, running his hands across his chest then through his dark, wet hair. She risked a glance at his face to find him watching her from deceptively sleepy eyes, a small smile playing across his lips. It was obvious he knew exactly how much she wanted him.

Her gaze dropped over his broad, golden chest, sleek muscle under satin skin, down his flat belly, lightly furred with dark silky hair. She blinked as she rapidly skimmed over where that silky hair flared out to form a nest for his manhood. He was stirring in that dark nest of curls, thickening, and her eyes widened before she squeezed them tightly shut. Her whole body reacted to the knowledge that he was becoming aroused—tightening, melting. She shifted and only reopened her eyes when she was sure they were pointed firmly at the ground. She stared at his feet; even his toes were beautiful—long and tanned and perfectly manicured.

He had no right to be so perfect.

“I need a cup of coffee,” she said, her eyes back to his face, but carefully bypassing the bit in the middle.

“The machine’s in the kitchen,” he said soothingly. “There was no need for you to come out here.”

She didn’t want to be soothed. “I don’t know how to turn it on.”

He sighed, but picked up a towel from a nearby chair and rubbed it roughly over his hair leaving it tousled, then blotted the water from his body before securing it around his lean hips, the white of the towel contrasting with his dark golden skin. Lia watched through narrowed eyes.

“Coffee?” he said when she didn’t move.

“Can’t you put some clothes on?”

“Coffee or clothes?”

She turned and went back to the kitchen. He followed, still clad only in his towel. Lia watched his movements, trying to pay attention so she could do it herself next time; the less interaction she had with Luc the better. He was not good for her equilibrium. But as the smell of fresh coffee infiltrated the room, she started to relax. Finally, he put a large, steaming mug in front of her, and she sighed blissfully, closing her eyes, and breathing in the wonderful scent.

“So, you’re not a morning person then?”

She took a sip. “What makes you say that?”

He smiled and took a seat at the huge table next to her. His long, bare legs stretched out in front of him, almost touching hers.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“Okay. Something woke me early.”

“Probably me coming back.”

“It was five in the morning.”

“Definitely me coming back.”

She studied him closely. Now that she looked, his eyes were a little bloodshot. “Did you go out last night?”

“Yes.”

“You were drinking?”

He grinned. “Like a fish.”

Despite the bloodshot eyes, he looked remarkably well for a man who presumably had had no sleep last night. Lia regarded him balefully while trying to avoid staring at his naked chest. But it was impossible. There was too much of it. He appeared strong, not bulky like the sort of guys who worked out, but sleek and hard-muscled like a racehorse. She could clearly see his ribs under golden skin like satin. His chest was smooth except for tufts of dark silky hair over dusky male nipples, and down below his navel a line that disappeared enticingly beneath the white towel. But she wasn’t going to go there.

“I phoned Maggie,” Luc said, making her jump and spill her coffee. She glanced up at his face to find him watching her, a small smile curling his lips.

“What?” she asked.

“Maggie. She’ll be here at ten.”

“Do we have to do it today if the party’s not for over a week? I don’t like shopping much.”

“All women like shopping.”

Lia shook her head. “That is such a sexist comment. I happen to know lots of men who like shopping.”

Truth be told, she was intrigued to meet someone who had known Luc’s family. Maybe she could learn something useful, discover why he was so determined to find her father, why he was such an ass. She sat and sipped her coffee, tried to ignore the almost naked man next to her. It was impossible. After a few minutes, he drained his cup and stood up.

“You want some breakfast?” he asked.

She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re offering to make me some?”

“Actually, I cook a mean omelet, and I need to eat.”

“Soak up the alcohol, you mean?”

“Maybe.” He thought for a moment, rubbed a finger down the spot between his eyes. “Definitely.”

“Go ahead then. I want to see this.”

She reached across and poured herself another coffee, then watched as he collected the ingredients from the huge fridge. He’d said last night that he could make coffee, but it was obvious he knew his way around the kitchen.

“So where did you learn to cook?” she asked.

He glanced around from where he was frying bacon, the delicious scent filling the room. “My father believed that cooking was women’s work. Unfortunately, my mother had been brought up in a household that believed cooking was the housekeeper’s work.”

“She was rich?”

“Her family was…quite wealthy. They didn’t approve of my father, and I don’t remember her having any contact with them at all back then. She was a stubborn woman. Anyway, we ate a lot of takeout while I was growing up. If I wanted anything at home, I had to cook it myself.”

Five minutes later, he placed two perfectly cooked, fluffy, golden omelets on the table and pushed one in front of her, before resuming his seat and picking up his fork.

Lia waited a moment, then picked up her own and took a bite. It was delicious. “Wow,” she said. “I can’t even make toast.”

“And what’s your excuse?”

“Well, we weren’t rich but we did have a housekeeper.”

They ate in almost companionable silence. Like a couple. The thought brought her up short. If she wasn’t careful, she would forget that the only reason she was here was because Luc was blackmailing her. For some reason, he was being charming. But why should she believe that the Mr. Nice Guy act was the real Luc any more than the wicked blackmailer? Obviously, he was willing to go to any lengths to get her cooperation—even cooking for her. No doubt, it was a devious plot to lull her into a false sense of security with his fabulous culinary skills, while turning her mind to mush by flaunting his nearly naked body in that tiny white towel.

Not going to happen. She was made of sterner stuff.

She put down her fork slowly, and Luc glanced up from his own food.

“Thank you. I’m full,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question her, just finished his food and pushed back his chair. “I have to go to the office. I’ll be out all day, but I’ll see you this evening for dinner.”

She nodded, letting out a sigh of relief as he left the room.