Kay Thorpe - Bought By A Billionaire

Bedded by…

Blackmail

Forced to bed…then to wed?

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

COMING NEXT MONTH

AT LEAST he hadn’t refused outright to see her, although he must be aware of why she was here. Aware of curious glances from staff in the vicinity, Leonie kept her face blank of expression. Vidal’s arrival, along with her father’s absence, would have given rise to some speculation, but she doubted if the full facts were known as yet.

The man who emerged from what had been her father’s office looked far from happy. Leonie couldn’t blame him for avoiding her eyes. She only hoped he hadn’t lost his job as a result of not realising what was going on.

She waited on tenterhooks for the summons to the inner sanctum herself, dreading the moment of confrontation. It was two years since she had last seen the man she was about to beg for forbearance on her father’s behalf. Two years since she had told him he was the last man on earth she would ever consider marrying. If he still held a grudge against her for that put-down there was little chance of his complying with her plea, but she had to try.

The woman seated at the desk her father’s secretary normally occupied was new to her; she remembered him saying he’d had a change about a month ago. She looked across at Leonie as the intercom buzzed, curiosity written large in her eyes. ‘You can go through now,’ she said.

Leonie got to her feet, steeling herself for what was to come. It was on the cards that she would be emerging from the office again in a couple of minutes with Vidal’s boot—metaphorically if not physically—behind her. Not that he’d be anything but within his rights in telling her to go take a running jump, so to speak.

It was some time since she’d visited her father at work. Spacious and well-lit, his office overlooked the river. Leaning negligently against the windowsill, lean and lithe body clad in a silver-grey suit of impeccable cut, Vidal Parella Dos Santos regarded her in silence for a lengthy moment, his tautly sculpted features unrevealing.

‘You’ve changed little,’ he observed in excellent Cambridge-acquired English. ‘But then, looks such as yours are unlikely to deteriorate.’ He indicated the chair set her side of the wide desk. ‘Please be seated.’

‘I’d as soon stand,’ Leonie answered. She drew a steadying breath, meeting the dark eyes full-on. ‘I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how I feel about what my father’s done. He abused your trust in him, and deserves to pay the price for it.’

‘But?’ Vidal prompted as she hesitated.

‘But prison would kill him,’ she said.

One black eyebrow lifted sardonically. ‘So what are you suggesting? That I allow him to get away with embezzlement?’

Leonie put everything she knew into keeping a steady head. ‘I’m asking you to just give him time to put things right again. He can repay what he owes by remortgaging the house.’

‘And how would you propose that he even arranges a mortgage without a job?’ The smile that crossed the hard-boned face when she failed to answer immediately was almost humorous. ‘You expect me to reinstate him too?’

‘He’s unlikely to get another job at all if you prosecute,’ she pointed out. ‘Which means he’s never going to be in a position to pay back. Obviously it would have to be in a lesser capacity.’

‘One denying him any further opportunities to tamper with accounts, you mean?’

Leonie caught herself up, only too aware of being baited. ‘It makes more sense than putting him in a cell.’

Vidal studied her strikingly lovely face, framed by the heavy fall of Titian hair, lowering his gaze with deliberation down the shapely length of her body, then back again. She tilted her chin, green eyes sparking as they met his once more. It was still there: the covetousness that had so alienated her in the past. What this man wanted he was accustomed to getting. Her refusal to marry him had been met with total disbelief at first, followed by cold fury when she’d added insult to injury by saying what she had. There had been no need to go that far, she had to acknowledge now. It said something for him that he hadn’t taken it out on her father at the time.

More than could be said for her father for certain.

‘Did he send you to plead his case?’ Vidal asked.

She shook her head. ‘This is my idea. I don’t condone what he’s done, but I’d hate to see him in a prison cell myself. I’m sure it can be taken for granted that he won’t be doing any more big-time gambling.’

There was a lengthy pause. Leonie wished she could tell what was going on in the arrogant dark head. She was still here. That in itself gave her some hope.

‘You think him ready to carry on here in the circumstances?’ Vidal asked at length. ‘So far only one other person knows the truth of the matter, but even if he were sworn to secrecy there would be speculation.’

Leonie had been holding her breath without realising it, letting it out now on a cautious sigh. ‘Something he’d just have to live with. Part of the price to be paid.’

Vidal straightened away from the windowsill, six feet of vital Portuguese masculinity. ‘I need time to consider,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you my answer tonight. My suite.’ He shook his head as she opened her mouth to protest, a hard glint in his eyes. ‘Eight o’clock. Unless you’d prefer to settle the matter here and now.’

She knew exactly what he meant: the same settlement she would be facing at eight, if she went. There was little point in pleading with him. If she wanted to succeed in her aim, then she paid the price too.

She made no effort to conceal her aversion as she looked at him. ‘I suppose I should have anticipated this.’

Broad shoulders lifted, his expression unrelenting. ‘I’m due some recompense, I believe, but the choice is entirely yours.’

Leonie turned without another word and left the office. She gained the lifts, looking neither right nor left, pressing to descend. Thankfully the cage was empty when it arrived. Facing a sea of faces would have tested her to the limit.

One thing was certain: there would be no renewal of the marriage proposal tonight. Vidal would be seeking to humiliate her as she had humiliated him two years ago. There was one very good way of doing that: by making her submit to him. The very thought of it made her cringe inside, but if it meant keeping her father out of prison she could live with it. She would have to live with it.

It was raining when she got outside. Lacking an umbrella, and unwilling to have the pale beige suede suit she was wearing ruined, she sought refuge in a nearby coffee shop. Others had done the same thing, limiting table space, but she found a seat at the window bar, gazing unseeingly out at the hurrying crowds as she thought about the man she had just left.

One of Europe’s leading industrialists, at the age of thirty-five Vidal Parella Dos Santos was regarded as something of a phenomenon. Born into Portuguese aristocracy, he could have idled his way through life any way he chose. Leonie had met him for the first time some weeks after her father had become chief accountant of the London company. She’d been drawn to him at first, she had to admit: few women could fail to find his looks alone an attraction. What she’d taken against was his arrogant assumption that he could have any woman he wanted for the mere asking. It had come as a shock when her refusal to sleep with him had resulted in a proposal of marriage, but she had been under no illusions. All he saw, all he coveted, was the outer shell. He knew nothing of the person she was inside, nor wanted to know. Once he’d tired of her she would have been discarded, like all his other women.