Flora Dain - Chase

Mischief

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.mischiefbooks.com

Copyright © Flora Dain 2014

Cover design: Head Design 2017, cover images: Shutterstock.com

Flora Dain asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © 2014 ISBN: 9780007579594

Version: 2017-08-21

Contents

Cover

Title Page CHASE Flora Dain THE WOLFE: BOOK 2

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

More from Mischief

About Mischief

About the Publisher

These days it starts with the bracelets.

They look sensational. Trust me, when you’re out on the town with your wrists sheathed in custom-made, 22-carat white gold studded with diamonds, you look like a princess.

But the princess has, let’s say, obligations to her prince.

He has them too, like not going too far.

But I bet he’ll get close.

I try not to dwell on this. I love him. I want him to slay his demons because, until he does, this relationship’s going nowhere.

In a way I’m special. I’m the only person on the planet he’s ever trusted. So for him power play is not just a game, it’s therapy. Plus for me it’s a free pass into his heart. And if I can enter and warm it through, then maybe the ice that’s formed around it most of his life will thaw long enough for him to find happiness – if not with me then with someone else.

I’d sooner not dwell on that either. For now I’ll play things by ear. Bottom line, this complex man is well worth the struggle.

The bracelets are new. He keeps them for me. I could never afford the insurance. When I wear them people stare, dazzled by the gems or outraged at the bling, depending on how well they know me. They’re not my usual style.

Nor is he.

Darnley Wolfe – part businessman, part inventor, part visionary, part damaged, all male – is also my lover. But only part of him is available for love.

His company makes millions. It deals in surveillance wizardry, personal protection and, for me, an exclusive line in heartache.

Our first date was last year, a chance collision in a spectacular clinch that lasted nearly eight hours and shifted our universe. Our second date was in high summer. We collided in the Lone Star State, hot on the trail of my ex but soon hotter still for each other as we hurtled into a rollercoaster ride high on emotion, low on trust and powered by wild, pulsing sex.

Our third date starts tonight. Two minutes ago he snapped the bracelets on my wrists. They’re a signal for him and a safety net for me. But the gleam in his eyes tells me they’re a far cry from the handcuffs he’d sooner see in their place .

Now we’re holding hands as we walk through the luxurious spaces of Camp Akela. His parents’ lavish summer retreat looks much the same as it did when I came back here a few days ago but for us there are big changes.

Holding hands is one of them. Our relationship was under wraps when we first came here. Now it’s spectacularly open, thanks to the meddling of Ryan, my vengeful ex, who managed to splash pictures of us worldwide.

Deep down, I find it kind of hot that everybody now knows Darnley and me are an item. It means when people look at us they must be guessing what we do when we’re alone. And that thought burns me up because I actually do know and I glow with arousal every time I think about it.

The second change is the quiet. His parents, Aaron and Lydia, are now back home in Manhattan. His brother Eldon left too, along with my best friend Billy. They’ll catch up with us later. So we’re pretty much alone here, that is if you don’t count the fleet of staff and a security detail big enough to impress the White House.

And the third change – and for me the biggest – is the bracelets. I’ve agreed to accept them along with the conditions he’s attached to them. But now I’m scared. The conditions are specific about me but rather less so about him. They’re supposed to keep me safe, to warn him that I’ve accepted certain terms but also that he takes on certain responsibilities.

Like not hurting me in a fit of over-enthusiasm.

All I know is we’ll go new places. And from what I know of Darnley’s taste in travel, sex-wise at least, that could mean some pretty scary territory.

His hand tightens on mine as we walk through the spacious entrance area. ‘Got any plans for the evening?’ He sounds casual, like I might be dining out round the corner or popping into the nearest deli. Except we’ve already dined – the chef hung on for our visit – and the nearest deli is probably some three hundred miles downstate and there’s not a corner in sight. We’re surrounded by forest.

I press against him, leaning into his shoulder like a hungry feline. ‘Not right this minute. You?’

He wraps his arm around me and hugs me close. ‘Plenty,’ he murmurs. ‘Once we’re clear of the grounds.’

‘We’re going outside?’ This surprises me. So far all our action has been strictly indoors. We’ve disgraced ourselves on pretty well every surface, leaned against every doorway and steamed up virtually every window in the place.

Now he wants to start outside ?

Like something just hotwired between us he pulls me towards the driveway and we walk quickly, past the golf course, past the lake and further still, pushing deep into the trees. I start quietly to fret. What now? What does he want to do out here that we can’t do in the privacy and shelter of our rooms?