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  I want to see her expression but the darkness and the grainy quality of the feed skews my vision.

  There’s no way in hell she’s looking at my door with anything other than fear. Maybe she thinks she heard something. Maybe she’s being overly cautious. Maybe…

  In the next second, she shakes her head and continues to the stairs to the third floor.

  To me.

  Now my heart thumps against my ribs like a trapped animal, and again I tell myself it’s simply the fact that I’m going to finish what Granddad couldn’t. It doesn’t have anything to do with feelings. I have no feelings for this girl.

  She’s a means to an end. The fact that I want her is irrelevant. It just means—

  A pang of something I refuse to call guilt hits me. I’m not going to take anything she won’t freely give. I’m just not going to let her have her prize at the end of the night.

  She’ll hate me but who cares? I certainly won’t.

  She’s almost to the top of the staircase now and I sit a little straighter in the chair facing the door, in the darkest corner of the room. She might not see me before I make my presence known. Then again, she might realize I’m there and try to run. She won’t get far. All of the other windows and doors are locked down tight and there’s nowhere for her to run unless she breaks a window.

  I don’t think she’ll run.

  I think she’s smart enough to know it won’t help her situation.

  When she puts her hand on the doorknob, I put my phone down, that sense of anticipation rising until my lungs hurt.

  I force myself to relax as the door opens and she steps into the room.

  Finally.

  Her form is a dark shadow as she closes the door silently behind her. I’m in the room with her and I don’t hear her make a sound as she runs to the window.

  I let her put hand on the window and swing it open before I say, “Did you find what you need?”

  She freezes, so still I swear she’s not breathing.

  Then she moves as if to jump through the window.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The dogs will be on you in seconds. Why don’t you turn around?”

  She doesn’t comply right away. I didn’t expect her to. Frankly, I expect her to jump. To try to, at least. I wouldn’t have let her. She’d hurt herself and that’s not how I want this night to end.

  “Olivia, please. I’m not going to hurt you. Have a seat. I want to talk.”

  She flinches when I say her name but stays with her back to me.

  I don’t want to have to get physical. Yet. But I will if she leaves me no choice.

  A second later, she straightens away from the wall and turns. There’s enough light streaming in from the window that I can see her clearly now.

  My cock hardens even more.

  I know from the investigator’s report that her mother was part Japanese and part Italian. And her father is some combination of English, German, and French.

  And she’s a fucking beautifully exotic combination of genes with straight black hair, pale gray eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a mouth so perfect I want to devour her.

  At least for this one night.

  When the sun comes up, she leaves and I go on with my life.

  Her gaze meets mine and I see defiance in the line of her mouth. She looks like a teenager but she’s twenty-five. More than old enough to understand exactly how much trouble she’s in. How much danger.

  Though she doesn’t know it, I won’t physically hurt her. That goes beyond the line I’ve drawn. But she will give me what I want.

  “You know my name.”

  Her voice holds only a hint of roughness. No accent. It makes the small hairs on my body stand on end.

  “I know a lot more than that.”

  Her head tilts to the side, the single braid containing her long hair falling over her shoulder as her eyes narrow. I want to wrap that braid around my fist and draw her closer.

  “Then I’m at a disadvantage.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  I don’t say anything else, just watch her. She shows no sign of worry or distress, simply holds my gaze.

  I want to smile because I like that about her. Unafraid to back down. Good.

  Settling deeper into the chair, like I had all the time in the world, I hold her attention. I can practically see the gears in her head working, trying to find a way out of here.

  When her jaw clenches almost imperceptibly, I know she realizes there is none.

  “What do you want?” She finally asks the million-dollar question.

  I don’t hide my smile. “We’ll start with the file you stole.”

  Her expression doesn’t change. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course you do.”

  Her pointed chin lifts. “If you think I’ve stolen something, aren’t you going to call the police?”

  “No need for them to be involved. Not if you cooperate.”

  Her gaze narrows for a second. “And if I don’t?”

  I shrug. “Why wouldn’t you? You’ve been caught. You’re not leaving until you hand over the file.”

  “Why do you think I’ve stolen anything?”

  “Because I’ve been watching your every move since you jumped the wall. I have to say, I’ve never seen anything like your climb up the building. Amazing.”

  Her expression doesn’t change. “Thank you. Why aren’t you going to call the police?”

  “They’d just get in the way.”

  I hear her breath hitch and I wonder if I’ve frightened her. I didn’t think it’d be that easy. And I don’t want her to be frightened. I know that sounds ridiculous but I don’t want to scare her.

  I want her to fight. I want her to be brave. Call me twisted, but I don’t want her to come to me frightened.

  I want her to approach the deal I’m about to offer as I would. A means to an end.

  “Don’t be frightened, Olivia.”

  “Shouldn’t I be?” There goes that chin again. “I’m an intruder in your home. If you’re not going to call the cops, why shouldn’t I assume you’re going to do something much worse to me?”

  “I told you. I’m not going to harm you.”

  “And I’m supposed to take your word for it?”

  I rise to my feet and watch as she locks her knees, refusing to retreat. I force back a smile.

  “What possible reason could I have to lie?”

  She holds my gaze steadily. “What reason does anyone have to lie? What do you want?”

  I walk to the door and open it wider. “Have a drink with me.”

  Her gaze narrows again and I can tell she’s trying to figure out my angle. She’s also trying to figure out if she can make it out the window before I could catch her.

  She must realize she can’t because she sucks in a deep breath and walks toward me. She moves like a dancer and I can’t help but admire the sway of her hips. When she’s within touching distance, she stops, as if to show me she’s not afraid. But I see the wariness in her eyes and in the stiffness of her shoulders.

  I wave her through the door. “I think you know where the library is.”

  She flinches slightly as she walks by me into the hall then heads for the staircase. This allows me to watch her ass. The woman is all sleek muscle and contained energy. I want to run my hands down her arms and back up her ribs, pet the flawless skin almost completely covered by her black clothing.

  Her skintight black pants cling to every curve of her ass and her shirt lovingly outlines breasts that are barely more than a handful. Still, I want to put my mouth on them and see if I can make her come just by sucking on her nipples.

  Christ. My balls ache already and I haven’t touched her. Couldn’t touch her. Not yet. Not until she says yes.

  And she will say yes.

  I follow a few feet behind, not close enough to crowd her but not far enough away for her to forget that I’m there.

  Not that I think she’l
l forget me. I’m pretty sure I’m the number one thought in her head right now. The second is trying to figure out how to get away from me.

  I say nothing as we walk back down the two flights of stairs. I catch glimpses of her face as we reach the second floor and then again on the curved stairs to the first floor.

  Her expression remains blank but I see her gaze dart to the front door. She can’t outrun me. I’d have my hand on her arm in a few seconds flat.

  But it doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about running. I like that about her. I love watching her brain work. Even if I can’t read her mind, I know she’s thinking about ways to get away.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she stops and turns to stare at me. “I’d prefer to remain here for our little talk.”

  In the open, with access to all the windows and doors. She has to know those doors are locked and the windows are bulletproof. She’d only hurt herself if she tried to break through them.

  “And I prefer to be comfortable.”

  I wave a hand toward the library in the back of the house and, after a short, indrawn breath, she begins to move again. Now, I see nerves encroaching. Her steps are shorter and her head jerks left then right, as if planning her exit route.

  I half expect her to take off for the kitchen and attempt to lose me long enough to somehow get out of the house. Maybe she knows about the stairway from the kitchen to the upper levels, the one that used to be for the staff.

  I don’t have a house staff except for Margaret, the housekeeper who’s been with my family for more than thirty years. She’s the only person I trust to have the access codes to any of my personal properties.

  Without her, I would’ve had to learn to cook. I give a silent chuckle at the thought. Margaret would be laughing her ass off if I even suggested it.

  Margaret would be pissed as hell if she knew what I was up to tonight. Then again, she’s known me all my life. She knows all my faults. And she still works for me.

  Sometimes, that amazes me. Then I remember how much I’m paying her and realize my dad was right when he said everyone has their price. Some people’s price is higher than anyone is willing to pay. Some can be had for the right amount of money.

  I’m about to find out how much Olivia is willing to pay for her father’s sins.

  We reach the library seconds later and I can tell she’s about to bolt. Probably for one of the dark corners on the far side of the room.

  Flipping the switches at the side of the door, I flood the room with light and watch her blink to adjust her eyes.

  Shutting the door behind me, I lock it with the key and shove it in the pocket of my jeans.

  Her gaze follows my every move. And now I see fear in her eyes.

  Can’t be helped. She can’t be allowed to run. Not with the file. And not until I’ve had her.

  I’ve been fantasizing about spreading her out on top of that monstrosity of a desk and fucking her until she screams my name since this plan first took shape.

  “I’ve got whiskey, vodka, bourbon, rum. Preference?”

  “To be allowed to leave.”

  I smile and her eyes widen. Not sure if I’ve frightened her even more or simply surprised her. Whichever it is, she’s warier now. Her body stiffens and her expression sets in a way that makes me want to know exactly what she’s thinking.

  And even though I know she won’t tell me, I’m still going to ask.

  “What’s going through your head right now?”

  The chin goes up again. “You can keep me here against my will but you can’t make me tell you what I’m thinking.”

  I shrug and turn back to the small bar. I pour two glasses of whiskey, set one on the low table, and sink into one of the matching overstuffed chairs that flank it.

  This room is the one room in the house, besides my bedroom, that I took a personal interest in decorating.

  It’s my favorite room of this house, the one my father had bought years ago for my mother. But she’d been gone before he had the chance to bring her here. Or maybe she ran because she knew if he’d gotten her here, she’d never have left.

  I have no illusions about my father, but I have a shit-ton of resentment where my mother is concerned. Some call it an obsession. They’re probably right.

  It takes her a full thirty seconds to consider her options before she swallows hard and slides into the chair opposite me.

  Leaning back into the cushions, I watch her lift the glass then take a delicate sniff followed by a healthy swallow.

  Can’t blame her for needing the liquid courage. Maybe it’ll loosen her up a little, though I’m not holding out for a miracle.

  “So,” I start. “The file.”

  She seems to have gotten a better handle on her emotions because she stares straight into my eyes and says, “Go to hell.”

  I smile. “I’ve been. Why do you need the file?”

  Her gaze narrows as if she’s learned something to use against me. “If you know so much about me, you know the answer to that question.”

  “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that I don’t. Enlighten me.”

  “And if I do, will you let me leave with it?”

  That will never happen but I’m willing to play along to get what I want.

  “Convince me I should.”

  She takes a few breaths before taking another sip of whiskey. Her gaze drops to the glass I hold in my hand. Is she wondering if she can outdrink me?

  I’m six-two and weigh two hundred pounds. I’m by no means a muscle-bound gorilla but I don’t miss too many workouts. I can run a 5K in twenty minutes and swim twenty laps without stopping. I take care of my body because you never know when it might turn on you.

  She’ll never be able to drink me under the table.

  Finally, she leans back into the chair, mimicking my casual stance. But she’s just as ready as I am.

  “What if I told you it’s a matter of life and death?”

  My eyebrows rise. “Yours?”

  For the briefest second, she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and bites down before releasing it.

  Why the fuck do I find that so amazingly erotic? It makes me want her to use those teeth on me. All over. It also means I want to use my teeth on her and my mouth waters just thinking about where I’d use them first.

  My gaze falls to her throat then lower, to her breasts. Are her nipples tight and pointed or am I seeing things that aren’t there?

  Can she really be as turned on as I am right now?

  Because if she is, this whole revenge-fuck scenario could blow up in my face.

  Chapter Three

  Olivia

  Two weeks of watching him have made me crazy.

  That’s the only explanation I have for the way I feel about the man staring like he wants to take a bite of me.

  Yes, he’s handsome but I knew that. There’s something about him that makes my breath catch. Not many men have done that. The few who have, I slept with.

  Probably not a good comparison right now.

  He’s not conventionally handsome. His features are a little too broad, his eyes a little too intense. And that hair. It falls past his shoulders and looks like he hasn’t combed it for days, just ran his hands through it to keep it out of his eyes.

  He’d look like some crazed hermit if not for the fact that the body under those jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt is honed to my idea of perfection.

  All right, maybe I might have developed a little crush on the mark. But no other woman I know would blame me if they’d seen him the way I have.

  Especially if they’d seen him naked and just out of the shower.

  Like I have.

  I still have no idea who he is and curiosity is eating me alive, even though he’s caught me stealing and now has me locked in a room with him in a mansion straight out of a horror movie miles from the nearest house.

  And no one knows I’m here. Not my dad, not Maylyn. Not Bryant or Reese.

  Damn it, what h
ad I done wrong?

  The answer is nothing. My surveillance isn’t at fault. No, someone had to have tipped him off. The question is… What do I do now?

  He’s made no attempt to hurt me but I know he can. He can probably snap my arm with one hand. Knock me out with a single blow to the head.

  The fact that he hasn’t makes him that much more dangerous.

  And when he stares at me like he is now, with that level of intensity, I want to climb on his lap and stick my tongue down his throat.

  Yeah, that’s definitely crazy. And possibly creepy.

  Although now that we’re in the same room together and he holds my fate in his hands…

  Maybe I’m in shock. I’ve never been caught before. Sure, I’ve had a couple of close calls but no one has ever seen my face.

  Shock is the only reason I can come up with for how I feel about this man.

  So what now?

  I haven’t responded to his last question and, from the look on his face, he’s still waiting for an answer.

  He’d asked if my life was in danger. I could lie but I have a feeling he’d know. I’m pretty sure he already knows why I need the file.

  Which leads me back to the idea that I’ve been set up.

  I need answers and the only way to get them is to give some. I just need to be smart about it.

  “No, not my life. Someone close to me.”

  “Someone you love.”

  “Yes.”

  His expression doesn’t change. “And why should I care?”

  Does he want me to beg him to save my family’s life? There’s no reason at all for him to care. How do I appeal to him?

  “Because you’re not a monster.”

  His eyebrows rise slightly though I can only see one. The other disappears under the fall of hair across that side of his face. “How do you know that? What do you think you know about me?”

  He sits back in his chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world. And why would he? I’m the one he caught breaking into his home. He could call the cops at any time and I’d be taken away. Hell, he could do anything at all to me and no one would know. We’re completely alone.