Breaching the Billionaire: Alethea's Redemption (Book 6) (Legacy Collection) (6 page)

Alethea. As beautiful as she was cunning. Both Dominic and Jake had warned him about her, but their warning had come one day too late. His heart beat double time as he remembered their first meeting. With her long, wild auburn hair, deep emerald eyes, and athletically tight body, she had easily been the most striking and beautiful woman at Jake’s engagement party.

He should have known from the way her attention had riveted on him that she had had an ulterior motive. The smile had come to her lips too easily. The flirting looks had been too blatant. Still, he’d been unable to resist the lure.

He’d deserved every critical word she’d written about him in her report to Dominic. That night he had, indeed, been weak and easily distracted. He’d wanted her with an intensity he’d never felt before. Like an ocean siren, she’d called, and he’d followed—leaving his duties unattended, something he’d never done in all the time he’d worked for Dominic.

Dominic’s reaction had come in the form of a simple warning. “Stay away from Alethea. She’s trouble.”

Jake had given him similar instructions: steer clear of the wreckage that would follow any personal entanglement with Alethea. He’d done as they’d asked because, although he’d spent many nights remembering the one hot kiss he’d shared with her, his loyalty was to the men who had given him a chance when the rest of the world had turned their backs on him.

No woman, not even one who made sex with other women less tempting, would be the reason he disappointed them again.

Now Jake was asking him to watch Alethea—closely. Not something he minded doing, but something that held a risk of forgetting why nothing was possible between them. His personal feelings had to come second to his duty.

He needed to find out if she was involved in the recent coding errors. To do that, he would have to breach the defenses of a woman who had once demolished his with one sultry look.

How do you outsmart a woman who prides herself on outsmarting everyone else?

You play by her rules.

Which means there are none.

He remembered the look in her eyes when she’d seen him at the hospital. No matter how their first encounter had ended, the attraction was still mutual.

I can use that.

I may even enjoy doing so.

Calling her dominated his thoughts all day, but he forced himself to wait. To win, he’d have to choose his strategy and timing carefully. Luckily, he’d had almost a year to study his target.

And he had. He’d kept her on his radar, even when some would have said it wasn’t necessary. Although she’d attended fewer and fewer of the social
events he’d worked, when she had, he hadn’t been able to look away from her. At first he’d tried to tell himself it was part of his job, but there was no denying the pleasure he found in watching her. Alethea entered a room with purpose. When she wanted to be the center of attention, her wild red mane flew loose—like the cape of a matador flaming the passions of men even as it lured them to their doom.

Doom
might be a bit strong. Most of them left their encounter with her looking bemused. Her racy choice of outfits, lingering sidelong glances, and even her light flirtatious laugh was a means of distracting her target while she gained access to whatever information she sought.

She was a woman who was always in control.

A woman men fawned over, instead of challenged.

Someone who liked to win.

A devilish smile spread across his face. He knew exactly how to throw her and keep her off balance.

It rang once. Twice.

“Hello?” Alethea asked slowly, most likely because he’d blocked his ID.

Payback time.

Lying in bed, Alethea rolled onto her back when she heard her cell phone ring and groaned. She’d trained most of her international contacts to call her at a reasonable hour, but there were still a few who forgot now and then. She reached for her phone, placing it instantly on speaker and flopping backward against her firm pillows. Like the rest of her apartment, the bed was functional without being overly comfortable. Too much comfort made a person soft, vulnerable.

Something Alethea refused to ever be again.

“Hello, Alethea.” A deep male voice echoed through her dark bedroom as if its owner were there with her.

Alethea sat up, instantly alert. There was only one man whose voice alone could have her body humming with anticipation.
“Marc,” she said, striving for calm, glad he couldn’t see the way her cheeks warmed and her nipples strained against her cotton T-shirt, a side effect of the numerous nights she’d used his image as inspiration while she’d pleasured herself. Her voice was huskier than she aimed for when she asked sarcastically, “What did I do to merit a phone call?”

“I’ve been thinking about you all week
.”

The same way I’ve been thinking about you?
she wondered, but wisely kept the thought to herself.

She relaxed back into her pillows and closed her eyes. She and Captain America had nothing in common. Even if her body was sure that wouldn’t matter.
“And you finally decided to thank me for my help at the hospital?” Okay, it was a jab, but she couldn’t resist.

He answered smoothly,
“Let’s not talk about work. In fact, there is only one word I want to hear you say and that’s—yes.”

Don’t ask. He’s playing on your curiosity.
“To what?”

His sexy chuckle
resonated through her, sending warm tingles into her stomach and lower. “To everything.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Scared?” he asked huskily.

Only of hurting myself in my haste to disrobe. See, that’s why I can’t say yes, because when something feels as good as being with you does, it never ends well.
“No, just smart enough to know you wouldn’t call unless you wanted something from me. What you’re suggesting could get messy and complicated. You don’t do either. What do you really want?”

“Oh, Alethea. So much smarter than the rest of us. If you can see right through me and my motives, then there is no risk in meeting me.” He chuckled again. “Unless,
you don’t think you could control yourself.”

“
That’s not a risk.”

“Prove me wrong. Meet me for a drink.”

Her rational side began listing all the reasons why that would be a bad idea. He worked for Dominic. Now, more than ever before, she needed to keep her head clear, if she was going to figure out what was going on. On the other hand, he might have inside information that could clear Stephan.

I told Lil I wouldn’t do anything until we spoke again.

However, she did dare me to call Marc.

So, technically,
I won’t be breaking my promise.

“Okay, one drink.
”

“Excellent. Now say it.”

“Say what?”

“Yes.”

What game was he playing? “No.”

His voice deepened
, and hot desire shot through Alethea as he said, “You are a delicious challenge, Alethea. Keep fighting to control every situation. It’ll make your eventual submission that much sweeter.”

Alethea’s heart thudded loudly in her chest as her body once again was at odds with what she was thinking.
Submission? Who does this guy think he’s talking to?
With some irony, Alethea admitted to herself,
only a woman who just drenched her panties at the thought of him trying to make her submit.

Cool. Play it cool. Don’t let him see that he’s getting to you.

“I thought you wanted to meet for a drink.”

“We both know what you really want from me. Why try to deny it?”

“Wow, there probably isn’t room for me and your ego in your bed, so I’m going to pass on that offer.”

His low chuckle was about the sexiest thing she’d ever heard. It was playful, yet held a promise of determination. “I love the way you hide behind sarcasm when you’re scared. It may turn off some, but I think it’s hot. You can insult me all you want, Alethea. It won’t change how the night ends. I know what you need.”

A cold shower? What the hell is wrong with me?
She angrily tucked her comforter tightly around her. “I don’t need anything. I can have who I want, when I want, how I want.”

“And that’s why you’re not satisfied. You don’t want someone you can control. You dream of being taken
, roughly, again and again. You want to be the one who begs for release. I know what you crave, and I can give you that fantasy and more. But you have to submit to me fully. That’s what I like. That’s what
I
need.”

Alethea panicked and hung up.

Before she agreed.

Her phone vibrated and she checked her messages. He’d sent her a short text. “I thought you were braver than that.”

She could almost hear him laughing, and an angry heat spread up her cheeks.
Bastard.
She threw her phone down next to her on the bed.

What an arrogant ass. Who does he think he is—God’s gift to the vagina?

She mimicked his voice as she repeated his words, “No man has ever fully satisfied you.”

Ridiculous.

And right.

Of course
, she’d had her share of orgasms and sexual partners, but none so remarkable that they’d remained crisp in her memories. She’d kept the number to one hand by remaining in contact with one of the more talented of her partners, but even he was little more than a convenience. A girl could only invest in so many batteries before sex had to involve the real deal.

Maybe that’s the problem.
She tried to remember the last time she’d had sex and realized it’d been more than a year.
It’s been too long. That’s all this is. I’m a healthy woman in my prime.

Marc is nothing special.

I should have met him for a drink just to scratch an itch and end this ridiculous fascination I have with him.

Why couldn’t he ask her out, buy her a drink, and let her sneak out in the middle of the night while he slept
, like every other man she knew? Why go all macho and all “You will submit to me”?

By saying that
, he proved how very little he does know me.

I’ll never submit to a man.

Okay, now and then in a passing fantasy, but that’s fantasy. In reality I would never give anyone else control over me.

She
remembered a therapist she’d spoken to back in high school, when her mother had thought she needed to talk out her feelings. The woman had warned her that she would never be happy if she lived the rest of her life on high alert.

Easy advice to give if you’ve never lost everything because of a threat you
didn’t know was there.

Had your father die and kn
ow it was your fault.

I won’t relax as long as I have something to lose.

Someone to protect.

Relaxing, much like deep sleep, can wait until I’m dead.

Marc set his phone on the table, started undressing for bed, and smiled. He hung his suit in the closet and donned a pair of flannel lounge pants. Alethea wasn’t going to meet him that night, but he hadn’t expected her to. She was rattled, though, and that had been his goal.

He placed his wallet and watch on his nightstand beside photos of his family, and shook his head in amusement. His mother would have boxed him on the ear if she’d ever heard him speak to a woman the way he’d spoken to Alethea, and both of his sisters would have done the same. He’d been raised in a household of strong, opinionated females. His father was a retired M
arine, just as his father had been before him, a fact that gave people the wrong impression of how he’d grown up. Born to older parents, he’d missed the deployments and had grown up in a solid two-parent home with a father who doted on his wife and spoiled his daughters. Stone men were fiercely protective of their family and country, but in the home, they were laid-back and more prone to humor than harsh words. His father often said there were times and places that required the worst of what was in a man; the home was not one of them.

They weren’t a wealthy family, but they worked hard and raised their children to respect authority, education, and the value of a loaded Colt .45. He’d grown up with more than a little admiration for intelligent, independent women.

But there was something about Alethea that made him want to pound his chest and drag her off to the nearest cave—an urge that was only stronger now that he sensed a part of her wanted him to do just that.

Shit.

Focus.

I need to get into her head, not her pants.

His loyalty to Dominic was not going to be undermined by a paranoid redhead
,
no matter how gorgeous she was or how many cold showers it took.

He took his laptop to bed with him and searched the Internet for anything that would explain what motivated her. He’d read her personal history via a detailed background check
, and it didn’t add up. She’d been a model student until middle school, and then something had happened. Something serious enough to change the course of her life. The list of private schools that had thrown her out was impressive, speaking volumes about the financial clout her family must have had. The report stated that her father had died of a heart attack. Had she been there when it happened? It didn’t say. There was remarkably little information about the incident.