Chapter Four

Xavier

I had not expected her to be so beautiful.

I had not expected her eyes to pierce into my soul but they did.

I looked down at the petite blonde beneath me, her slender wrists shackled in my hands, as the SUV drove down the road through the snowy night.

I had instinctively covered her with my body, pressing her into the soft leather of the backseat the moment she tried to flee.

I could hear her soft pleading pants and sweet scent of fresh linen and tea roses on her skin.

Her every gasp lifted her full breasts higher above the tightly corseted satin dress to the point where I thought the fabric couldn’t hold her any longer.

My muscles tensed, and I forced myself to turn away.

I wasn’t supposed to be interested in Sylvia Browne.

Yes, I despised her greatly.

But use her to get the things I wanted?

Certainly, that was exactly what I was going to do.

So, how could I explain this sudden surge of desire? How could I explain the way she captivated me?

There was absolutely no way I could explain such nonsense.

Before I slept with any woman, I always had a condition: I had to want her. That was the end of it.

I was uninterested in learning about her personality, her so-called soul.

What would the point of such an exercise be?

Why would I bother about such things when by morning I would have finished with her?

It wasn’t like my mistresses were virgins or fragile-looking ladies. They were capable of looking after themselves and pursuing their interests.

They had their own agendas which were usually lusting for my body, money, power, or all three.

I was fully aware that anyone could be bought with the right price attached.

Everyone had a cost, they just had to name it.

But wanting this specific woman was a new low for me.

Sylvia Browne was amoral and mercenary, cunning and devious.

I had known that but I hadn’t expected her to be so stunning. I didn’t think she would be so gorgeous.

I could almost understand why Arnold Lincoln had taken such a risk by making her his fake bride.

Any man notwithstanding his values would want to possess such a woman.

She looked up at me, her eyes flashing, still panting.

When I ripped the tiara off her head, her honey-blonde hair had tumbled loose from the elegantly smooth chignon.

Long blond tendrils fell now against her heart-shaped face and against her cream-colored skin that was smooth and fine. She had bright roses on her cheeks.

Her eyes were the bright turquoise of the sea framed by thick black lashes.

Her lips were full, pink, and parted, and her face was flushed with passion and rage.

I imagined her as a woman who had just made love during a raging fire. I desired her. And this enraged me.

“She must be luring me on purpose, teasing me like a coquette,” I reasoned.

I guess she was turning her feminine charms on me in the hopes of avoiding punishment and winning my heart.

Unfortunately for her, I was heartless. Her charms wouldn’t work on me.

Since I first heard about Arnold’s alleged wedding, my men had been keeping a close eye on his castle.

I intended to kidnap the baron and force him to reveal Laila’s location but Arnold was far too smart for that.

He had never left his castle alone because he feared I was lurking around.

I could no longer wait as days passed.

I was no longer certain of Laila’s condition or what had happened to her. She could be dying or dead.

In desperation, I nearly stormed the castle with all my men, guns blazing, even though I knew it would end in disaster.

Then I saw the man’s new bride leaving the castle to the moonlit garden in the dark.

When I saw her illuminated by the eerie northern lights, I recognized it for what it was: a miracle.

And I had taken advantage of the situation.

Arnold destroyed the things that mattered to me and I would not hesitate to do the same to him.

His bride would be my new souvenir.

Sylvia Browne, the American waitress who squandered Laila’s fortune on jewels, furs, and designer clothes, was well known to me.

Revenge was finally at my fingertips.

In order to become a rich baroness in the eyes of the world, the little gold digger had just lied her way through the most sacred vows of a marriage ceremony.

Rather than working her way out of poverty, she had lied about it.

That was all I required to seek vengeance on both of them.

I had no sympathy for anyone who had a hand in Laila’s disappearance.

I had nothing but pure and cold hatred for her.

Except that wasn’t the case anymore. I was now filled with lust for her.

I couldn’t think about all her crimes but rather how I could punish her in my bed.

I despised her as I gripped her wrists tightly in my hands. I heard the pant of her breath in the backseat of my SUV.

Her pants did nothing but to increase my urge for her.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” she exclaimed.

“No?” I had to force myself to concentrate solely on her eyes and not on her breasts, which were rapidly rising and falling with each breath.

By sheer force of will, I gritted my teeth and focused my gaze solely on her face.

“My husband is going to…”

“You don’t have a husband.” I snapped as I narrowed my eyes at her

“Oh, my God,” she whimpered, her face contorted with shock and horror.

“What exactly have you done?”

“You know what I mean,” I grumbled.

Her face turned white, and her body froze.

“Did you… did you cause him harm?”

I had been tempted to do so just an hour before but plans changed.

Although killing Arnold would have been satisfying, it would have had negative consequences too.

I couldn’t possibly care for Laila or find her if he was dead. Especially since I couldn’t tell anyone about our relationship because I had given my word.

“Take me back,” Sylvia Browne said quietly.

“And I swear I’ll never tell anyone what you did. I swear! My husband will never hear of this!”

“You promise?” I mockingly asked. “We both know your promise is meaningless.”

“How can you say that?” Her voice trembled as her eyes welled up with tears. “You don’t even know who I am! Just take me back to my family.”

Manufactured tears, I reasoned, created by a devious little actress.

“I have had enough,” I said sternly. “And now both you and your lover will pay…”

But then she started kicking at me with her high-heeled shoes as she struggled wildly.

It was like she had suddenly snapped into a beast.

In waves of white lace, her wide dress flew over the backseat.

As her knee hit the back of the seat, the driver in front nearly spun off the road.

She kicked the window so hard that I had to grab her ankle to prevent her from shattering it.

“Stop!” I yelled, using my body to force her to comply.

But, to my surprise, she continued to fight even though she was much smaller and had no chance of winning.

“You beast! You are a coward! You criminal!” she screamed. “My husband will track you down. He’ll put a stop to your evil plans. You’re never going to get away with this!”

“One more word and your husband will find your body by the roadside,” I muttered and watched as she froze.

All of her struggling only increased my want and desire for her.

As she writhed beneath me, I saw the spark of furious challenge in her eyes. The intensity of my need hit me like a wave.

But why did she fight me, when it had to be clear from the onset that she had no chance of winning?

It was clear that she had already lost but she still decided to give it a try.

She stopped struggling and began staring at me with dark rage. She was glaring at me with hatred and defiance.

Her look only sparked a response in me that was even worse than lust.

It was the last thing I wanted to feel for her.

A grudging respect!

As the convoy slowed down, I immediately released her.

Ahead in the moonlight, my largest jet was waiting for us on a deserted landing strip.

When she saw the jet, her whole body sagged with sudden despair.

The SUV stopped, and she turned to me. A single tear streamed slowly down her cheek.

“Don’t do this,” she whispered.

“Please…whatever quarrel you have with Arnold, don’t force me on that plane. Please, whoever you are…let me go back to the people I love!” she cried

Love?

This venal woman knew nothing about love.

“Let me go back to my husband,” she continued tearfully.

My lips curled. “I told you. You have no husband.”

She gasped, looking terrified.

I stared back at her as the driver opened my door.

She knew perfectly well what I meant. It was an act.

It had to be!

“I’m begging you,” she whimpered, her blue eyes luminous with the light of unshed tears. “Don’t hurt him!”

Roughly, I grabbed her arm. “And the reason you have no husband,” I bit out, “is because Arnold Lincoln already has a wife.”

I watched the way her facial expression changed with the revelation.

I don't care what was running through her mind at that moment.

All I knew was that I already had a bait and I was going to use her to get what I wanted.