Manhattan Millionaire’s Cinderella: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance (8 page)

Except when it came to her.

“You had me in your sights twenty-four seven,” she rambled, and he let her, thinking he might catch a clue to fit the pieces in sync. In a few hours, he ’d have his answers from the VIP, his uncle. He smirked. He suspected his uncle had controlled the situation from the get go, and Cade had a hunch he hadn’t been alone. His lungs compressed, then he inhaled, filling his chest with oxygen
.
Soon, he’d know the who and the why.

A gust of air shot from his mouth. Right now, he had to shake Nina from her self-inflicted trance and spark some color in her face.

He reached for her.

“Don’t touch me.” Nina shriveled away from him and collapsed on the chair, tucking her legs beneath her.

“Okay.” He raised his hands above his head, his biceps bulging, and his eyes drilling into hers.

“Okay?” Nina squinted at him, her heart hammering and her body betraying her mind.

Barefoot, he stood tall with his jeans gaping open at the waist, his sex pressing against the half open zipper. She gulped. God help her. She still wanted him, wanted to—but she
balled
the paper in her hand and snapped out of it. “How could anything be okay, when you’ve been hunting m-my father?”

“Your father?”

She leaped from the chair and hurled the paper missile disclosing the damning evidence at him. “You had me investigated, you plotted,” –she swept up the file, pointing it at him— “you schemed to use me to—to—destroy him.“

“I didn’t know he was your fath—”

All of a sudden the fight went out of her and she slumped back in the chair,
tears stinging her eyelids. But she would not give him the satisfaction of weeping in front of him.

“Nina, you have to listen.” He jammed his fingers through his hair, pacing to and fro, finally stopping within a foot of her. “If I’m guilty, then you’re right there with me for having done the same. Maybe worse.”

She lifted her head, her eyes empty. “Wha-at?”

“You hooked me, pilfered my money, and jetted to Florence until you located him.” He snapped his fingers, the puzzle locking into place. “You thought he was there, that’s why you stole away the morning after our wedding.” His lip curled. “You had your own agenda.”

Her sharp intake of breath, a cyclone ripping between them.

“Your excuse for jumping ship?” He guffawed. “Eavesdropping— on my phone call to—”

“No.” The one word a whiz of sound from her mouth. She gripped the chair’s arms so hard, her knuckles whitened, and words snagged in her throat.

“Overheard—more palatable to you?” He shrugged, his shoulder blades tensing. “My negotiating the sale of one of Century’s yachts.” A pause, and his words crackled with scorn. “When your…er…father, wasn’t in Florence, the boutique became your cover.” A gale blasted from his mouth, whipping her face. “Cyprus became a pleasant—”

“For whom?”

“—if unexpected diversion,” he continued like she hadn’t spoken, and that had her fuming. “My euros financed your search and kept you in style until I tracked you down.”

“I said I’d pay you back.”

A pulsing beat, and—

“Then come back to bed.”

A split second of silence, deep and foreboding.

Deliberately, she pushed up from the chair and took a step, the crack of her hand across his cheek vibrating between them.

He drew in a force of sound, his features taut … unyielding.

She swallowed, and licked her lips.

He flicked a glance from her mouth to the gaping neckline of her robe, outlining the swell of her breasts. A chuckle skidded from his throat, frosting her skin and shooting shards of ice into her spine. She clutched the lapels of her robe tight and dismissed the hardening of her nipples as mere reaction to the cold, and not his expression.

“Still denying?”

“No, I mean … it’s not that simple.”

“Well, sweetheart, nothing ever is.” He stroked his knuckles across his cheek still stinging from her slap.

“I-I’m sorry—”

“Save it,” he muttered, turning away. “I’m going to take a cold shower and by the time I’m done, be packed.”

“Cade … ”

He paused in stride, but didn’t look her way. “Yeah?”

“It’s not him,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, shaky. “It’s not my father who’s—”

He nodded and yanked the door to the en-suite open.

“You know?” she asked, astounded. “Then why … who?”

“When we get to New York, the ‘who’ will surface,” he hurled over his shoulder.

“But I don’t want to go with you.”

He spun around. “If you don’t want your father named an accomplice

in a global wide electronic scam, you’d better be ready to board Century One at twelve hundred hours.”

“B-b-ut you said you knew it wasn’t him.”

“No, you said it,” he clipped out.

“I-I don’t understand.”

Cade twisted his mouth in wry cynicism. “As you said, it’s not that simple.” His gut signaled her father wasn’t as innocent as she seemed to think, but he couldn’t explain now. But he bet his uncle held the deck, her father cut the cards and one other dealt the hand, working the ETF system. That’s whom he had to nab to staunch the financial bleeding of Century Corporation.

He sized her up and down, and his body throbbed…for her. Ruthlessly, he resisted the sexual pull to gather her up in his arms, but her forlorn look penetrated his blockade, stabbing his heart.

Yeah, he’d get the hacker, but would it cost him Nina?

Cade stood with his hands behind his back, the brooding look in his eyes reflected in the wide expanse of window of his New York headquarters on Madison Avenue. The memory of their sexual tryst last night in his penthouse had him hardening up…but something else prodded his heart. Elusive. He couldn’t identify it. And it was stoking his frustration. A swear word blasted from his mouth and tainted the air.

“Having a bad day already, dear? Nina waltzed into his office, and stood her ground several feet from him, his surprise at her appearance evident from his face. She glanced over her shoulder at her old office…a bittersweet memory taunted, and her back went rigid. “Your receptionist must’ve gone on a loo break, so I showed myself in.”

He nodded, taciturn.

“My debt’s paid in full.” She tossed the penthouse keys on his desk,

taking in every flicker of his face; the flare of his nose, the shuttering of his eyes, the set of his mouth. Her pulse skittered and her palms went damp. Images replayed in her mind…him holding her, touching, tasting…heaven. Emotion rose inside her, and she clutched her handbag, willing herself to breathe normally.

“How do you figure that?”

“The deal was for one night…” She couldn’t get the word ‘sex’ out. It sounded so cold, mechanical, impersonal; and there had been nothing cold or clinical about their lovemaking. It had been a volcanic eruption of the senses and the heart…at least for her.

“With me.”

She nodded, wanting more…of him. But she couldn’t, not without his love. It would crush her. Be strong, be smart, she told herself. A wisp of a smile. Smarter.

“Yes.” It had been a memorable night of passion with him. Unforgettable. A knife twisted in her heart. “And now it’s done…it’s over.”

Shifting a step, she had the armchair between them. He noted her movement, and his eyes turned glacial. She gripped the smooth leather to

steady her jelly-filled legs.

Mere hours ago, Nina had fluttered her eyelashes and with a satisfied smile on her face, stretched across the king-size bed to touch him. Her hand landed on the empty pillow, her eyes flew open, and fuzz filled her brain cells. She had squinted at the note propped on the bedside table lamp, and her heart plummeted to her pink-tipped toes curling on the satin sheet. His scent, cool spice and man, clung to the sheets, spiking her memory with every detail of their sizzling night.

A bleat of sound slipped from her mouth, exploded in a groan, and even the New York traffic far below couldn’t smother the hopelessness of it.

An image of their village abode flashed through her mind, and the groan morphed into a wistful sigh. It’d been rough, he’d been demanding and bossy, and sparks had flown—but oddly enough, she’d been happy in a simple, uncomplicated way.

She snatched the note, and his impersonal words scrawled in black ink, smacked her face.
‘Returning late. Chauffeur at your disposal.’ C.S.

A shiver ran through her, and her teeth chattered. She drew the sheet closer about her and huddled beneath. He hadn’t even signed the thing.

In the lull of her thoughts, her heart thumped her ribs. One, two,

three…she chided herself at her idiocy. What did she expect? A declaration of love? An epiphany after one night with her? She laughed, and the sound turned to a whimper.

She might be married to him, but she was no wife to him, not even for one night. A one time mistress would be more like it. She turned up her

nose and sniffed. A mistress might fare better than she had under his controlling dictates. She pressed her eyelashes closed, determined not to cry, but her lip quivered. She wanted to scream, to release her anger at him and at her own foolishness.

A tear oozed beneath her lashes, slid down her cheek and settled on the corner of her mouth. She flicked it away with her tongue, the saltiness stinging the bleakness inside her. She hiccupped and hugged his pillow. Another tear welled up and spilled over, then another.

Finally, she sucked in mouthfuls of oxygen and knew what she had to do. Must do. For her sanity, for her father, for her business in Florence, before everything she’d worked for bit the dust. She managed to drag herself from the bed and to the shower.

She dressed in a classic Chanel suit and stilettos to boost her confidence. After applying a touch of mascara and lipstick, she swept her

hair up in a chignon, clipped gold hoops in her ears and packed her few belongings. She flirted with the idea of skipping out while he was at work but that’d be cowardly. For her dignity and peace of mind, she had to see him. Confront him one more time.

“Paid in full.” She enunciated each word, hoping that hearing them again would convince her.

A silent beat.

“You’ve paid a portion,” he said, his tone unflinching.

Startled, she gaped at him. “What?”

Cade tried to crush the erotic kick in his male counterparts, but it didn’t work. He wanted her…more nights with her…a lifetime of sensual delight. Their passion blasted all records—his chest expanded, his blood heated—images of her with him, under him,…skyrocketing…flashed through his psyche.

“A night is what we agreed on.” He shoved his hands in his jeans’ pockets, and drew closer.

She inched backward but the edge of his desk stopped her.

Good.

“A night—half of a twenty-four cycle—twelve hours.” He cleared his throat. “A technicality” –he shrugged— “but since we got a late start” –his eyes bore into her, into her soul to extract something, anything that’d give him the edge— “our midnight madness lasted say two hours—”

She averted her gaze, so he couldn’t decipher her reaction.

So, he went on full throttle— “add our one hour pre-dawn frolic in the Jacuzzi…”

Her face flamed.

“ … tops, three hours.” Another step brought him within inches of her, her exotic perfume ensnared, and he closed the gap. “The electrical combustion afterward would be another two.”

Was that a catch in her breath? Or his?

“Total, five hours…with you,” he murmured, his words gruffer than he intended. “If not for the emergency at the site this morning and the pending VIP meet in an hour, we’d still be—”

“London?” she whispered, her voice wavering.

“Moot point.” He brushed stray tendrils at her nape with his knuckles, tempted to bury his face in the softness. “You didn’t come back to bed.”

Lifting a few strands, he brushed the ends across his mouth, then allowed them to drift between his fingers. Silky, smooth, sensual. “You still owe me seven hours…in my bed.”

“You can’t be serious.” She licked her lips, and that had his gut clenching. Then, she turned her baby blues full force on him and sucker-punched him in the solar plexus.

And because of that, his tone grew harsher. “I am…serious.”

“You’re unreasonable.”

“You will pay my due to the last minute, second—”

“Your heart’s made of stone.”

Her words nearly felled him, but he remained resolute. His uncle’s morning text warned something big was going down tonight. Cade had to keep her under surveillance to ensure she didn’t wander into a danger zone,

“You will do as I say.”

“If I refuse?” Her chin went up a notch.

“You’ll have to pay the balance in cold hard cash.”

“You know I don’t have that kind of money.” The obstinate angle of her chin softened, and her lashes fluttered, shielding her eyes, but her tone remained cool…all business.

He shrugged. “Then you had better warm my bed tonight.”

“No.”

“I wouldn’t be so hasty.” His words were smooth steel. “Papa might get caught in the crossfire.”

Her head snapped around.

He lifted a sardonic brow.

“Cade, no,” she pleaded.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

She didn’t move, setting off her own flare. “I’ll call him.”

A pause, then— “Go ahead.”

Squinting at him, she pulled her cell from her purse and keyed in the number, her hand quivering. Seconds ticked by, and she caught her lip between her teeth, her cheeks going pale.

“Something wrong?” he asked, sotto voce.

“‘The subscriber’s number is not in service,’” she mumbled, dazed. “But he always answers my calls.”

“Apparently not today.” He propped his hip on the edge of the desk,

rolled up his sleeves, his covert gaze playing tug-of-war with hers.

Unaware of her effect on him, she licked lip-gloss from her bottom lip, her luminous eyes glazing over. He had a gut-checking moment.

Civility was not all it was cut out to be.

He wanted to swat everything off the desk and take her on the glossy top. Every muscle in his torso corded, and he crunched down on his molars.

No interference. Not even Nina. From nabbing the bad man and stemming the financial gutting of his corporation. Tonight.

“Where is he?” she accused, her fists pounding his chest. “What have you done with my father?”

“Hey,” he muttered, grabbing her wrists. “I’m a businessman, not a monster.”

“That’s debatable.” She pulled away from him, her body language reflecting her resentment, and he let go so quickly, she stumbled back into a chair.

“Call him tomorrow, Nina.”

“Why?”

He tilted his mouth in a cocky grin. “By tomorrow you’ll be all paid up, honey.”

A sharp intake of breath, and she spun around to leave, but he shifted, blocking her path.

He tutted, and propelled her against him. He swooped down and claimed her mouth with his. A heartbeat later, he released her.

“A taste of what’s to come, darlin’.”

“You’re a bast—”

He pressed the intercom, his words cold…cruel. “Mrs. Sloan is leaving. Send in my next appointment.”

Nina rushed out of the office, her eyes blurring with tears and bumped into the blonde receptionist strolling back in. She kept her finger on the elevator button, willing it to hurry up.

“Mr. Sloan said you forgot your keys.” The receptionist poked her head back out of the door, dangling the keys from her fingers and fluffing her short bob with her other hand.

“I have another set, thanks.”
But not to the penthouse
, the thought zipped across her mind.

At that moment, the elevator doors slid open, and Nina slipped inside, relieved. The elevator closed and began its descent. Mr. Big and Mighty Sloan was coming in for a crash landing. She still had an ace to play.
But, first she’d ensure her father was safe by calling the only other person he’d confide in.

Nina hurried across the lobby to the restroom and retrieved the Macy’s shopping bag she’d stashed in the nook behind the trashcan earlier. She left behind everything he’d given her—gowns, jewelry, shoes. A wry smile teased her mouth. Her favorite Italian shoes had been a temptation, but she’d learned her lesson. She’d owe him nothing more.

In order not to alert his chauffeur, she’d stuffed her few belongings in a shopping bag, rather than a suitcase. Clutching the bag in her hand, she hurried across the foyer, her heels clicking on the marble tiles. The moment she stepped through the revolving doors, she got bumped into the stream of humanity.

Clouds loomed overhead.

The pretzel man stood on one street corner, the hot dog stand opposite, the pita & falafel seller rolled his trolley along the sidewalk, the T-shirt vendor and the flower girl claimed their own spots to the backdrop of beeping yellow cabs—a unique trademark of the New York weave.

Nina flagged down a cab, and when it swerved to a stop, she tossed the bag in the back and followed it. “John F. Kennedy Airport, please.”

A squeal of tyres, and the cabby barged into the flow of traffic; passing a Starbucks spilling over with patrons on a coffee fix prior to boarding the subway, and whizzing past Patrick who leaned against the parked limo.

She twisted around, and a grin curved her mouth. The chauffeur

yanked off his cap, tossed it on the ground, snatched it up, and dove into the limo; nosing away from the curb after her.

A giggle bubbled in her throat, and she leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes. Reprieve. Cade’s chauffeur would never catch up to her through the morning rush hour.

A sobering thought flashed through her mind and the giggle dissipated. She hooked a loose curl behind her ear, her heart hammering and her hands clammy.

What would happen when Cade caught up with her?

There would be hell to pay.