Filthy Rich (29 page)

She blinked a few times. “But my mother died six months ago. We're still trying to recover.”

“I'm terribly sorry for your loss. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.” He gestured toward the door.

She shook her head and a few blond strands slid over those amazing tits. “No, I won't excuse you. Didn't you hear what I said? I don't know what my father owes, but we can pay you back. We just need time.”

“I was only half listening, really.” He leaned forward, his gaze resting on her face. “You're rather beautiful. I find it distracting.”

With a clenched jaw, she clutched the armrests of her chair until her knuckles were white. As she took a deep breath, the green buttons on the waistcoat strained and looked ready to pop right off the bloody thing. Very distracting indeed.

“Please, I'm trying to keep my family together, Mr. Blake. Since my mom died, that house is all we have left. Surely you understand that?”

“I don't have family, Miss Campbell. Relatives are considerably more trouble than they're worth.” A pain in the bloody ass was more like it. He flatly refused to acknowledge his own.

“Please?” Her voice was a breathy whisper and she tugged on that full bottom lip with her teeth. “Can you give us an extension? Just a month or two. I promise we'll pay every cent.”

He bit back a smile. Oh, she was good at this. Very practiced. Most men probably tripped over their own cocks to give her what she wanted. But he wasn't most men. And her sad eyes left him as unmoved as her tragic little family drama. “Do you know what I do, Miss Campbell? Who I am?”

She met his gaze. “Who are you, Mr. Blake?”

“I am, for lack of a better phrase, an investment angel. When I loaned your father money to expand his business, he put your house up as collateral.” He lifted his shoulder. “But he's hemorrhaging money, an astounding feat given that he has a commercial refrigeration repair business and we're in the middle of a desert. He even sold off the tools and equipment, which were also mine.” He raised a brow in annoyance. Brian Campbell had gone behind his back. Did he think Trevor wouldn't find out? And even though the loss was trivial, Trevor hated losing money, no matter how small the amount. “How your father's managed to keep his head above water this long is something of a mystery.”

“What? No, you're wrong. He wouldn't do that without telling me.” She scooted to the edge of her seat and placed her hands on top of his desk. Her nails were ruthlessly short, the skin around them red and rough. “You can't do this. My sisters will be out of a home. I'm begging you.”

“I am sorry for your plight, but it changes nothing. Now, I trust you can find your way out.” Dismissing her, he turned his attention to one of the computer screens and checked the commodities prices. Wheat held steady, oil down, gold up.

Hmm, he'd made a nice little sum today. Not a fortune, but tidy.

When he glanced back, she still hadn't moved. The heat drained from her cheeks, leaving her pale. That lush bottom lip trembled.

Trevor sighed.
Oh
God, not tears
. He narrowed his eyes and gave her a nasty, calculated smile. “You know, Miss Campbell, with assets like yours, you could make money in this town. I'm sure you could work a pole as well as the next girl. Or there are the brothels. Prostitution is legal in parts of Nevada, after all.” Just as he'd planned, the tears that clung to her lashes didn't fall. Color flushed her cheeks. He'd lit the fuse, and now he waited for the explosion.
Anger
—
so
much
better
than
tears
.

She leaped to her feet and slammed her palm on his desk. “Fuck you. Take your loan and your investment angel bull crap. Just…” Her gaze darted from his face to the multiple computer screens and her mouth flattened into a straight line. Angry eyes met his. “Fuck. You.”

He took in her pink cheeks, the determined tilt of her chin, then his gaze slid downward, landing on her breasts, which were rapidly rising in agitation. “If you'd like, I'll be happy to oblige.”

“My God, do you think this is funny? My mother is dead, my father is now unemployed, my sisters are about to get kicked out of their home, thanks to you, and you're joking about sex?”

He splayed his hand over his chest. “I never joke about sex, Miss Campbell. I take my fucking very seriously.”

She froze for a moment, her lips forming a perfect O before she turned and stalked across the room to the fireplace. Clasping the edge of the marble mantel, she remained silent.

Even in those hideous black trousers, her ass looked nice and firm. She was rather magnificent.

He was a bastard for saying those things to her, for taking her family home. But it was business. It wasn't personal. Why didn't people understand that?

She swung toward him. “All right. If that's the only way, then I'll do it.”

“What?” Her ass had him in a bit of a daze. What had they been talking about?

“I accept.”

He replayed the last couple of minutes over in his mind. Then it finally hit him, like a cricket bat to the head. She was offering to fuck him in exchange for her house. Dear God.

She licked her lips and glanced at the door.

Already
regretting
her
hasty
offer?
Good, she should be. And of course, the idea was ridiculous. She was hardly the type to offer up her body in exchange for anything as mundane as a small house in a rather shabby part of the city.

He stood and stepped from the behind the desk, strolling toward her slowly, purposefully. His gaze lowered to her mouth. She audibly swallowed but stood her ground. He liked her spirit. She was tall, but he towered over her, forcing her to crane her neck to glare up at him.

He placed his hands on the mantel and caged her between his arms. With his head angled, he leaned forward. Their lips were only inches apart. Her pupils dilated, her breathing became shallow. If he leaned just a little closer, those breasts would graze his chest.
So
tempting
.

She smelled good enough to eat—a light, fresh fragrance that wasn't too delicate, wasn't overpowering. It made his cock stand up and pay attention. “All right then, I'll forgive the debt if you agree to cater to my needs. At my beck and call, fulfilling my every whim, for as long as I want you. How does that sound?” Dropping his hands, he pulled back and smiled. Positive she would throw his offer and probably her fist in his face, he waited. Baiting her was rather delicious. But he needed to get back to work. He couldn't spend the rest of the afternoon taunting Allie Campbell, as delightful as that sounded.

She stared at him with those impossibly blue eyes. “All right,” she said after several seconds, “for one month, but I want it in writing.”

His jaw dropped for an instant, gobsmacked. “Sorry?” He'd just been teasing her. He couldn't have a mistress. Didn't want one. Especially one that came with so much baggage. A party girl who knew her way around? Possibly. A woman who had sisters to take care of, a widowed father? He resisted the urge to shudder.

“I said yes.” She tilted her chin and studied him. “You expected me to say no, didn't you? Are you trying to welsh out of it?”

Was she challenging him? Questioning his word? He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her coolly. “I've never
welshed
on anything in my life.”

She mimicked him, also crossing her arms, and nodded. “Good.”

“Three months, not one, and there's a catch, Miss Campbell.” He smiled at the panicked look in her eyes.

“What's that?”

Ah, now he had her. “You have to comply with whatever I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it, no matter how…depraved”—his voice deepened on the word, drew it out—“or the deal is off.”

Her arms fell and she shook her head. “No. Forget it.”

Excellent. “Well then, good day.” Turning, he walked back to his desk.

“Wait,” she said, a thread of desperation in her voice. “Two months. And I won't do anything that could hurt me.”

He wasn't sure what possessed him to turn around, but when he did, he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. And it made him feel… He rubbed his chest. He didn't know what the feeling was, but he didn't like it. He quickly dropped his hand. “But a little pain can be very pleasurable.”

Instead of running for cover, like a sensible girl, she met his cool gaze with her own.

“Then we'd need a safe word or something. And no other partners.”

Truly, he'd never been into pain, either delivering it or receiving it. Doling out the occasional light spanking—well, quite. But that wasn't painful. That was foreplay. As for other partners, he didn't like to share. Not that he was planning on actually having Allie Campbell.

So. Tempting.

He told his cock to shut up. He'd never let it do the thinking before and he wasn't about to start now.

But what was he to do? Knowing there was no way out of his offer, not without
welshing
, he stalked toward her and held out his hand. “You're mine for two months. Deal.”

She hesitated for the briefest moment. “Deal.”

When she placed her hand in his, he felt a rush of anticipation.

“And you'll forgive my father's debt, let us keep the house, and pay off the existing mortgage,” she said in a rush.

He sighed. “Fine.”

Her face relaxed a bit. “Fine.”

Bloody hell. He wasn't sure when things had gotten so out of hand, but somehow Trevor had acquired himself a mistress.

Dawn Ryder is the erotic romance pen name of a bestselling author of historical romances. She has been publishing her stories for more than eight years for a growing and appreciative audience. She is hugely committed to her career as an author, as well as to other authors and to her readership. She resides in Southern California.