BOUGHT: A Standalone Romance (75 page)

Miles stood at the sink in our stateroom, washing blood from his hands.

How could a simple arranged marriage turn into such a horrifying, out-of-control mess?

I was supposed to marry a man, a complete stranger who just happened to be part of one of the most famous, most beloved families in the country for a few months. I only had to pretend to be the perfect wife at a few dinner parties and business get-togethers and I’d walk away with the deed to my aunts’ house, the use of his name to get a good job, and a million dollars to boot. What could possibly go wrong?

How about the fact that I fell in love with him?

Or the fact that I thought he was in love with me, too?

And then there was the whole he-forgot-to-deliver-the-divorce-papers-to-the-court-so-we’re-still-legally-married thing after he tossed me out on my rear when he decided he didn’t need me anymore. And the fact that he conveniently forgot to turn over the deed to my aunts’ house to me. Or the fact that he convinced my aunts to give me a ticket to this cruise, supposedly to bring me out of the funk I’d been in since the divorce, just so he could trap me into pretending to be his wife for a group of reporters covering the launch of the new cruise line he was—for reasons I couldn’t quite figure out—running for his father.

The last I heard, his father blamed him for everything—from his mother’s cancer to global warming. Why would they work together?

But they were. And I had to sit through a boring dinner, pretending to be happily reunited with my husband while my best friend sat across from me with the man of her dreams. It was suffocating. I had to get out of there.

Who did I run into when I left the dining room? The one guy who represented the only pleasant date—the only pleasant evening—I had after Miles kicked me out, Dominic. Only, of course, Miles knew Dominic and threatened to kill him if he came anywhere near me. Apparently, Dominic and Miles have history that involves Miles’ brother, Robert, because later in the evening we happened to run into Miles’ former fiancée, Claire, who is now married to Robert, and she announced that Dominic shot Robert in the gut.

The wound turned out not to be as bad as everyone initially thought. Lisa, my best friend, who happened to be a medical student, was able to sew it up under crude conditions. However, it was a long night. Miles was clearly concerned, watching closely—even helping where he could—as Lisa worked. I stayed close, too. But Claire? Well, she was nowhere to be found during the whole ordeal.

And now? I was so confused. And watching the blood run in circles around the marble sink was making me nauseous.

“Are you going to tell the captain?”

Miles looked up from the sink, his eyes a little weary, as though he’d forgotten I was standing there.

“Why?”

“So he can have the police waiting when we get to Spain.”

Miles’ eyebrows rose, and he regarded me as though he thought I’d lost my mind. “We can’t get the police involved in this.”

“Your brother was shot!”

“Yes, but he’s going to live, thanks to you and Lisa.”

“That’s not the point, Miles.”

He turned back to the sink, lathering up more soap to clean his hands. There was a lot of blood on his hands. It was coming off slowly, in layers, but there was still so much.

“Here,” I said, snatching my toiletry bag and digging out a body wash that had pumice ground up in it. “This will cut through the layers better.”

“Thanks.”

I leaned against the counter, tugging the loose edges of my dress around my legs.

“Why would Dominic shoot Robert?”

Miles glanced at me. “Because Dominic is part of a very dangerous family that has a beef with Robert.”

“Why?”

Miles turned off the water, stepping back from the sink with his hands held up like a surgeon on a medical drama. I tossed him a towel, and he quickly rubbed them dry, careful not to touch the white towel to the bloody cuffs of his suit jacket.

“It’s very complicated, Riley.”

“You always say that whenever you don’t want to tell me something. But I think I’ve earned the right to know.”

He brushed past me and went into the bedroom, dropping the towel on the floor and pulling his jacket off. When he began unbuttoning his shirt, I cleared my throat, trying to remind him I was still there, still waiting for a few answers.

He ignored me. Instead, he tugged his shirt from his arms and tossed it to the floor with the towel and began to undo his pants.

“Miles.”

He glanced at me. “As I recall, you’ve seen me undressed before.”

“Yes, well, things have changed since then.”

“Have they?” Again, the arch of his perfect brow. “You seemed pretty willing to come back to the room with me and check out the bed earlier.”

I blushed, the knowledge of just how right he was burning where the world could see it.

“That was before we ran into Claire.”

He sat heavily on the end of the bed. “I know you have a lot of questions,” he said, suddenly weary, as he looked up at me with dark shadows under his eyes, “but I’m exhausted. Aren’t you?”

The truth was, my exhaustion rested heavily on my shoulders. I wanted nothing more than to snuggle under that incredibly soft comforter and forget reality for a few hours. However, reality had become this soap opera of characters—who all seemed to circle around the two of us—and I desperately needed to know how they all fit together.

“I promised I would explain everything,” Miles said, lifting his hand toward me. “And I will. But can we get some sleep first?”

I reluctantly took his hand and allowed him to pull me onto his lap. He ran his hand slowly up my back, his other hand slipping under the hem of my skirt.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“Did you? You seemed pretty happy to see me go.”

He groaned, as he pressed his mouth to my shoulder, biting down just hard enough to send a shiver of pleasure down my spine.

“Whether you believe it or not, I was trying to protect you. To keep you out of the exact mess I seemed to have just dragged you into.”

He kissed my neck, the heat of his breath taking mine away. I knew I should move away and set some ground rules to keep myself from falling into the same trap I fell into after his mother died. I knew he only needed me now because he was worried about Robert, just like the first time he came to my bed was because he was grieving for his mother. It was a deep, dark trap that I was only beginning to climb out of. If I fell again…

But how could I resist the feel of his hand on my hip, the taste of his lips on mine? How could I refuse him the comfort he so desired when my heart was screaming out for him, when every nerve in my body was aching for his touch? I was lost the moment I walked into the bathroom and found him standing there in nothing but a towel, that goofy smile on his lips.

I touched the side of his face, drew him closer to me, and buried my fingers in his hair. How could I have thought I could get over this? That I could stop wanting this man? How could I have thought that going on a single’s cruise could ever make me forget his touch, his smile, his sense of humor? I was never going to forget. And I was never going to get over losing him when he sent me packing again. But he was mine—right now. And he wanted me—right now.

Right now was all that mattered.

That’s why I didn’t argue when he slipped my dress from my shoulders. And it’s why I didn’t protest when he lifted me and carried me to the bed, setting me down in the center of its overstuffed mattress and silky soft sheets. And it’s why I welcomed him when he lay with me, when he slid inside of me, when he took me to a paradise that I could only visit in his arms. And that’s why I curled up in his arms afterward and slept more peacefully than I had in the past six months.

Miles was gone when I woke the next morning. A part of me wasn’t surprised. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

I climbed into the shower and stood under the spray for a long time, trying to let the heat take the knots from my muscles. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw blood circling the sink before it went down the drain. I couldn’t believe how much blood there had been, how much blood came from a wound Lisa insisted wasn’t that bad. It looked bad. And Robert was unconscious all night.

I tried to imagine Dominic—the sweet, romantic guy who took me to a play in Dallas and this restaurant where they had violinists walking through the dining room, playing whatever romantic serenade a couple might request—shooting my brother-in-law. As much as I disliked Robert for everything I knew he’d done to Miles—such as marrying his fiancée—I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to shoot him. Let alone someone like Dominic.

None of it made sense to me.

When I was dressed, I left the room, searching for the dining room. The brochure my aunts gave me said they had a breakfast buffet until noon, and I was starving. However, just as I turned the corner, heading to the lovely smells emanating from the spread, two very large men stepped out in front of me. One grabbed my arm and the other pressed some sort of cloth to my mouth. In seconds, my knees buckled, as the world went dark.

***

I woke with a horrible taste in my mouth. I immediately sat up, coughing, my throat scratchy and sore.

“It’s the chloroform,” a voice in the darkness said. “There’s water on the table beside you.”

“And how do I know there isn’t something in it?”

“If I’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already.”

I knew the voice. It was Dominic.

“You shot Robert.”

“He killed my sister.”

Those words hung in the air for a minute, heavy, like the proverbial elephant. I reached for the water, drinking it down quickly. Gratefully. It didn’t completely wash away the horrible taste, but it made my throat less scratchy.

Dominic switched on a light. We were in a small stateroom, probably one of the ones in the belly of the ship, as there were no windows or portholes. But it was nice. The bed was a king size, the sheets a little less luxurious than those in the suite I shared with Miles, but still a good quality. There was a thick carpet, a comfortable-looking, straight-backed chair, and a heavy chest of drawers. And the open door to the bathroom showed a smaller version of what was in my suite.

“Why am I here? What have you done?”

“I had my guys bring you here so that I could talk to you.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to talk to me in the dining room?”

He leaned forward in his chair, running his fingers through his hair as he studied my face. “Actually, I didn’t want to risk getting interrupted.”

“So you had your goons chloroform me?”

I pushed the blankets off of my legs and got up, charging across the room to the door. I should have known—by the simple fact that Dominic didn’t make any effort to follow me—but the moment I grabbed the doorknob, I found it locked. I tugged at it multiple times, but it would not budge. I slammed my hand against the thin wood and yelled, but that didn’t do me any good either.

“We’re on the bottom level of the ship. The only person who might hear you would be one of the crew, and they’ve been paid well to ignore anything they see or hear coming from this room.”

I didn’t care. I slammed my hands against the door again, screaming as much in frustration as fear or anger. Well, maybe there was quite a bit of anger in there.

Dominic must have gotten tired of watching my tantrum. He came to me, grabbed my arms, and tugged me away from the door.

“Relax. No one’s going to hurt you,” he said against my ear.

I twisted away, not wanting him that close to me. I crossed back toward the bed, but then the implication of it—unmade and so welcoming—caused a shiver of revulsion to burst through me. I crossed my arms over my chest and moved to the far side of the room, pressing my back to it so that I could watch Dominic as he paced across the room.

“I don’t understand why you’re resisting me like this.” There was a little pout in Dominic’s voice. “We had such a good time together that night in Dallas. And you know that I would never hurt you.”

“Do I? We went on one date. And then you shot my brother-in-law.”

“Yeah, well, I should have aimed better.”

“Why? Why do you want him dead?”

Dominic leaned against the door—much the way I was leaning against the wall—and stared at me. He seemed hesitant to answer my questions, and I wasn’t completely sure why. But there was something about the way he was looking at me that caused another shiver to rush down the length of my spine.

I straightened up, but stayed against the wall, wanting as much space between us as possible.

“What has Miles told you about me and my family?”

“Nothing.”

“Not even after last night?”

I shrugged. “We didn’t have a lot of time to talk while we were trying to stop Robert’s belly from bleeding.”

Dominic looked thoughtful for a minute. “I’m surprised he’d even care about saving his brother’s life. After everything that Robert’s done to him…”

“You mean, marrying his fiancée?”

“Among other things.” Dominic regarded me again. “What do you think of Claire?”

I tried to pretend nonchalance, jerking my shoulder just slightly. But there must have been something on my face because Dominic broke into a grin.

“Don’t like her much, do you?”

“I don’t really have an opinion either way.”

“Are you sure?”

Dominic came toward me as he reached inside his jacket. I backed up a little, pressing myself so hard against the wall that if it were physically possible I would have slid through the wall and into the water on the other side. He pressed an envelope into my hands.

“These might help you form an opinion.”

I started to give them back, but he pushed them against my chest.

“Really,” he said. “Check them out.”

Reluctantly, a sense of dread building in my chest, I opened the envelope. A handful of pictures fell out, and I caught Claire’s beautiful face in a few of them as they fanned out in my palm. Claire and Miles. Claire and Robert and Miles. Claire staring across the room at Miles with Robert at her side. I dropped the envelope and neatened the pile between my hands and looked closer. I began to recognize details I really didn’t want to see.

Claire was in Florida. On my honeymoon.

Claire in Waco at Miles’ office.

Claire and Robert at the same restaurant Miles and I frequented in Waco for the many business meetings he dragged me to.

Claire and Miles in his parents’ garden in Massachusetts.

Claire and Miles over and over again.

“Those were taken by a private detective my father hired.”

“To do what?”

“To find Miles. To prove that he was lying about leaving Massachusetts for you.”

“For me?” I looked up, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. “What are you talking about?”

“Miles ran from an obligation he had to my father. He claimed it was because he was seeing a woman in Texas and he’d gone there, not only to start a construction business he’d been dreaming of for years, but to marry the woman of his dreams. Which he did, three weeks after my father confronted him.”

I looked down at my hands, my eyes falling to those pictures again. There was nothing overtly romantic about the pictures. They weren’t touching in most of them and definitely not kissing. But the fact that I could recognize the settings, the fact that Claire followed us to Florida and then to Texas, bothered me on a level I was unfamiliar with. It filled me with a sense of uncertainty, of fear, of betrayal. It left me wondering if I really knew anything at all about Miles and his intentions toward me.

“What does Miles have to do with your father?” I asked almost absently, desperately needing something else on which to concentrate.

“He told my father that he was responsible for my sister’s death.”

My head came up so quickly that a pain flashed through my neck.

“What are you talking about?”

“My sister. Rebecca.” Dominic stepped back, falling back onto the bed. He stared at his hand, the weight of the world on his shoulders. Then he looked up, and there was as much anger in his eyes as there was grief. “Robert killed my sister and let Miles take the blame for it.”

I didn’t know what to say, and something about the way he was staring at me suggested he didn’t want me to say anything. He wanted to tell his story without interruption; he wanted me to know exactly what kind of people he thought Miles and Robert were. He wanted someone to hurt as much as he did, and he clearly thought his story would destroy me.

“Robert was dating my sister a few years back,” he began. “She thought he was the sun and the moon; she talked about him like he was a Prince Charming come to life. But I knew she was just a fling for him. He’s a womanizer. A fucking loser who treats women like objects to be used and tossed aside. I wasn’t about to sit back and watch him do that to Rebecca.

“I pulled him aside and told him to stay away from her. He agreed that he would. He knew that he would have the full wrath of my family on him if he didn’t listen. No one wants to cross a de Luca. Not if they know what’s best for them.”

De Luca
. The name seemed vaguely familiar, but I wasn’t sure why.

“He assured me the relationship was over. But I found out later that they continued to see each other for months. Rebecca would sneak out of the house and slip off with him when no one was really paying that much attention. The last time I saw my sister, she lied to me. Told me she was going up to bed. But she was really going off with him to some club outside of Boston.”

He shook his head slowly, sadly, a darkness filling his eyes that sent cold shivers down my spine.

“What happened?”

He looked at me, anger suddenly burning in his dark features. “We got a call from the local police department. She’d been found in a car that had crashed into a copse of trees not a mile from our house.”

“I’m sorry,” I said almost on instinct.

“The car belonged to Robert, but he, of course, was nowhere to be found.”

“He just left her?”

Dominic shook his head again, the frustration that stiffened his shoulders so obvious that I could almost feel the tension rolling off of him.

“After she died, after the funeral, my father tracked Robert down and confronted him. It was more than a month later, but there was a fresh scar on his forehead. It was so obvious he was behind the wheel that night. I mean…come on, why would Miles be driving his brother’s car? Why would he be with the girl who claimed to be Robert’s girlfriend? And why would Miles, of all people, leave her there, injured as she was.” His hands were balled into fists on his thighs, anger snapping so clearly in his eyes that it might have been fireworks in a Fourth of July sky.

Then he continued, “But Miles insisted that Robert had nothing to do with it. He insisted that he was driving the car that night. And my father…”—outraged dripped from his next words—“…believed him, for whatever reason. But I know. I know that Robert killed my sister.”

Dominic stood and began to pace. There was a tension in his shoulders that was so tight I could see the muscles vibrating under his shirt. A part of me felt grief for him. I knew what it was like to lose your family in a single moment. I have few memories of the crash that killed my parents and even fewer of my parents themselves. However, I have this constant sense that something was missing in my life. That was something I would never wish on anyone else, even someone who meant harm to the man I loved.

“When was all of this?”

“It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. My sister is dead, and
that
man is responsible for it.”

Dominic stopped moving, his eyes falling to the pictures I still held in my hands.

“Miles begged my father not to push the police to arrest Robert and made a deal with him to keep my father from telling Jackson Thorn. Told him he would make it right. How he could make something as catastrophic as killing my sister right, I had no idea. I wanted the truth. I wanted Robert to pay for my sister’s death. An eye for an eye…”

A flash of memory, of Robert lying in that bed last night, his side oozing blood as Lisa and Miles did their best to remove the bullet and stitch it up, rushed through my mind.

I shivered again.

“My father wouldn’t let me near Miles or Robert. Said he had it under control. Instead, he sent me to fucking South America to deal with family business down there.”

And that’s when I realized where I’d heard the name de Luca before. Martin de Luca was a notorious crime boss on the East Coast, a ruthless man who was rumored to have politicians and high-level businessmen alike in his back pocket. He was said to run New York—not just the city, but the whole state—and that he had the ear of senators and congressmen. There were even rumors that he and the president were golf buddies.