Manhattan Millionaire’s Cinderella: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance (9 page)

“She gave you the slip?” Cade vaulted from his chair and pressed the intercom. “Cancel all my appointments.”

He swept up his Armani overcoat and sprinted for the elevator, barking orders into his cell, barely noticing his secretary’s open-mouthed confusion. “On my way down…Waldorf…quickest route.”

A hush, and the elevator doors slid open. He stepped inside, disconnected the call to his chauffeur and pressed the line to his pilot. “Prepare the Lear for take-off.” He glanced at the Omega on his wrist. “I’ll be at Kennedy
within the hour.”

******

Patrick pulled the limo to a stop in front of the Waldorf-Astoria
and Cade leaped out, storming through the Park Avenue entrance.

“Uhm…dress code.” The bellman ogled Cade’s mud-caked

boots beneath his Armani coat. Cade gave him a fierce look. The man stepped aside, and he crossed the chandelier-lit lobby.

Cade barged into
Sir Harry’s bar, scanned the dim interior and grimaced. Struck out again. His uncle and Nina’s father—no shows. A growl of frustration erupted from deep in his chest. He spun around to exit and bumped into a woman rushing in.

“I-I’m glad I got here in time,” she said, anxiety cracking her words.

“Sorry, you’ve got the wrong guy.” He sidestepped her. What a pick-up line.

“I don’t…” She grabbed his arm. “…have the wrong guy.”

“Lady—” He braked to a stop, noted the concern in her features…her eyes. Memory knocked, and he snapped his fingers. “Limassol Wine Fest…my uncle’s date.”

“Actually,” she murmured, wringing her gloved hands, “I’m his wife and—”

“You have a message from him?” Cade demanded, his words crackling with impatience.

She gave him a level look with her mascara-fringed eyes that made him squirm. And Cade Sloan never, but
never
, squirmed, not since he was a kid of six.
Her hazel irises reflected a ring of gold—golden-brown eyes.

Like his own.

Shock immobilized him for a second, and then feelings he’d buried deep inside him for almost thirty years erupted in an avalanche of bitterness. It must’ve reflected on his face, for she closed the gap with a step and reached for him.

He shook his head and backtracked a couple of paces; then his discipline kicked in, and he stood his ground. Nothing made sense. Was everyone mad? Or just him?

“I can explain,” she murmured, almost pleading.

“You had better.” Cade took her elbow, guiding her to a secluded table in the corner and nodded to the bartender. He needed a drink. Strong, black coffee. And by the peaked look on her face, she did too, spiked with something stronger. “You have exactly ten minutes.”

“I can do it in five,” she blurted. “Details, I’ll leave for another time.”

“Get started.” He plunked down in the chair opposite, giving her no quarter.

At the close of her tale, stunned, Cade pushed his untouched coffee aside and stood up to leave.

“Easy there.” A man dug his fingers in his shoulder and shoved him back down.

“What—” Cade sank in the chair, the point of the gun digging in his ribs. Fine hair on the back of his head stood on end…there was something familiar about the gunman. Acrid taste scoured his tongue. “Daddy Sloan?” His nickname for his father slipped out unconsciously from Cade’s lips.

“Long time no see,” the stranger blustered, concealing the firearm beneath his coat.

“No.” His mother rose to her feet, her face ashen.

“You got that right, lil’ lady,” he blurted, his alcohol laden breath tainting the air. “Your pre-wedding fling with the favorite son popped this bastard, but I wasn’t fooled.”

Cade siphoned a gallon of air into his lungs, and then let it hiss between his teeth, every sinew in his body primed for attack. “You…uh… missed me and decided to come calling?”

His father shot him a furious look, and ignored his wisecrack.

“Joe always had the upper hand over half-bro here, but I got you anyway,” he bragged, his eyes shifty. “Willingly or not.”

“But you didn’t keep me,” his mother murmured.

“Shut up,” the gunman ordered, and then guffawed. “I slammed you Sloans where it hurt most, your bank account.” He grabbed Cade’s untouched coffee, poured it down his throat and swiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “He laughs best who laughs last.”

“What is it you want?” Cade demanded, the irony smashing him

between the eyes. The man he chased for over a year stood inches from him, and he couldn’t make a move to bring him down.

“Do as I say and no one gets hurt.” His father motioned them to get

moving, his hand in his coat pocket, his signal clear. “A ride to Sloan…er… Century Global for a final transaction, and we’ll call it a day.” A pause… “And that lil’ lady you’ve been sporting on your arm will be off the hook.”

“Nina.” Cade breathed her name on an intake of breath. “If you’ve touched her I’ll break you apart.”

“You’re hardly in a position to call the shots.” And to emphasize his point, he nudged him with the revolver. “Excuse the pun,” he chortled. “Now step on it.”

Cade thought he must be in a parallel universe…past and present about to detonate. Stuck in the middle, he racked his brains for a way to douse the fuse, and then chuckled. “Nothing quick about battling New York rush hour traffic.”

That hit a nerve, and the enemy’s face folded in distaste, his mouth a thin line. “Radio for the chopper…and no tricks.”

“No.”

He grabbed his mother and pressed the weapon into her back. “Gimme another answer, boy.”

“Yes,” Cade amended on a heartbeat, meeting his mother’s terror-stricken eyes. He pulled out his cell phone, uttered an order, and clicked off. “This way.”

“I give the orders,” his father boasted, chewing his bottom lip.

Cade inclined his head in acquiescence, and Daddy Sloan paused, inspecting the door exit to East 50
^th
Street. “Outside. We’ll climb the fire escape to the roof.”

The moment they set foot on the pavement, two NYPD vehicles screeched to a stop and blocked their path, sirens ripping through the air. “Drop it and raise your hands.” The officers leaped out, took cover behind the cars and drew their pistols.

Panicked, his father grabbed his mother and using her as a human shield, dragged her with him to the deserted parking structure.

A police chopper circled overhead.

He shoved her at the officers and made a run for it.

Cade sprinted after him and tackled, the gun hurling from his hand and skidding across the asphalt. A brief scuffle, and Cade yanked him up by the collar. “Hands over your head…Daddy Sloan.” Cade shoved him forward into the officers’ hands. “Your visit’s been cut short.”

A third cop car swerved in. His uncle and Nina’s father shuffled from the back seat, and Cade grinned. “A family affair.”

“Not exactly,” his mother murmured from the shadows.

Cade snapped his head her way, but didn’t move.

“He’s not your father,” his mother blurted, her features riddled in shock.

“Any more surprises?” Cade muttered, noting his uncle securing an arm around her shoulders. Heck, he felt like a tidal wave had upended him, and then a nuclear blast scrambled his brain. He got it, but a part of him resisted. A myriad of emotions pummeled his insides, turning his words rough. “Someone better tell me what the heck’s going on.”

“I will,” Nina’s father said, stepping up to the plate.

“Where’s Nina?” Cade snarled.

“On her way to Florence.”

“How do you know?”

“She called her mother, trying to reach me.”

Grim-faced, Cade nodded, relief spreading through him. She was safe.

“We’ll fill you in on the way to the airport.” His uncle clamped a hand on his shoulder, and his muscles knotted. “I’ve got my lady, now go get yours…son.”

“I intend to,” Cade bit out in force. But could he?

******

Cade felt like a bull in a china shop, standing smack center on the shop floor of the Fantasy Secrets boutique. Shoving back his hardhat, he curved his mouth in a lopsided grin and perused the merchandise.

No sign of Nina.

He flicked his fingers across a scarlet satin chemise draped over a mannequin,

the sensual feel reminding him…of her. Demolishing the smile from his mouth, he dismissed the frilly nothings surrounding him and trekked to the counter.

Several weeks had elapsed before Cade could extricate himself from the legalities in New York, and jet to Florence. After he arrived, still trying to make sense of the bombshell his mother and uncle…er …father had detonated in his life, he hadn’t sought Nina out immediately.

A self-deprecating grunt echoed from deep in his throat. Today, after touring the development now designed to rebuild rather than bulldoze, he knew the time had come to confront his runaway Cinderella.

He pressed the buzzer next to the computerized cash register.

Swiping his palm across his dirt-stained jeans, he heaved a breath. His gut whipped. Absurd. He was the CEO of Century Corporation, grossing millions globally—that was assured now profits stayed within the company—and here he was feeling like a nerdy teen on his first date. And just because of that, he tautened his features and banged the bell.

Silence.

He palmed the bell again, the sound reverberating around the shop.

“We’re closed,” she called from somewhere in back, her words muffled. “Didn’t you see the closed shutters?”

The sound of her voice was smooth as Southern Comfort on a wintry night, it washed over him, stimulating every fiber of his body.

He kept his finger on the buzzer.

“Who—” She hurled from behind the curtained partition, and lurched

to a stop, her eyes wide with surprise, or was that shock? Removing the pins clamped between her teeth, she poked them in the negligee draped over her arm and brushed the bangs off her forehead. Her elusive scent floated to him, distinguishable even amidst the bottled fragrances and scented candles on the shelves. She’d turned out to be as indefinable as the perfume she wore…and just as provocative.

Sensual.

Sexy.

She tilted her chin and lowered her lashes, her eyes blue slits.

“Wha-at are you do—we’re closed,” she said,
her mouth set.

A jab that hit the mark…right beneath his heart, and he almost vaulted the counter to steal a kiss…kisses. His Adam’s apple bopped, and he flexed his abs, controlling his ardor.

“Nope.” He tucked the work-hat under his arm and inclined his head to the door. “Sign says five-thirty.” A glance at his wrist, and he rapped the watch with his knuckle. “Two more minutes.”

“Very well.” She sighed and turning her back to him, hung up the snowy fluff of nothing on a rack. Dawdling, she removed the pins, fiddled

with the price tag and smoothed the folds.

He hooked his boot on the rung of a stool, his jaw taut.

Finally, she spun around, her features tense, her eyes glinting ice. “What can I do for you?”

“Naa, naa.” He wiggled his brows and planted his boot back on the floor. “It’s what I can do for you.”

“Really?” She elevated a shapely eyebrow. “What might that be?”

He grinned.

Her brow dropped back in place, and she assessed him suspiciously.

“I want to buy a gift for a special lady,” he said, his gaze clashing with hers. “And the woman I love.”

“Certainly.” She hurled the word at him like a snowball, her voice an Arctic breeze.

He frowned. Was there a skid beneath her self-assured demeanor?

Good. Perhaps his words had drilled through the frosty exterior to prick her

heart. She certainly had nailed tacks into his.

“I hope you find what you want.”

“Me, too.” He drummed his fingers on the counter.

That garnered him another glare.
“What did you have in mind?”

Oh, baby, if you knew what was in my mind
. “Uh … something hot, sexy.” His eyes never left her face, and then his grin broadened. “Like the one there. On the rack behind you.”

“It’s very expensive.”

“She’s worth it.”

She nearly gagged at that and clearing her throat, found her voice. “Size?”

He tilted his head, pursed his lips and measured with his hands in the air. “About yours.”

“Pardon?”

“Your size should fit her just fine.”

“Of course.” She spanned her hands on the counter, whizzing in a breath, and he noted the wedding ring still on her finger. A Tarzan yell

exploded inside him, but he kept his game face on, tuning into her words.

“Our exclusive lingerie is made to fit all shapes and sizes.”

“I’ll take it.”

Another Arctic front blasted, depositing another layer of frost between them.

“That’ll be thirteen thousand euros.”

“A real bargain,” he mocked.

“We do an exceptional job.”

“I’m expecting it.” He winked.

Nina flicked a curl off her shoulder, her pulse all a flutter again.

The rogue. The blackguard. The jerk. She gritted her teeth, running out of choice adjectives to hurl at him, even if it was only in her mind. He’d stolen her heart with his
laissez-faire
attitude and then, stomped on it. Why else would he be buying gifts for another woman? Well, she wouldn’t let him know how much it got to her.

“We aim to please our customers,” she murmured, giving him a coquettish smile.

“Yeah,” he ground out, his mouth firm.

“Will that be cash or credit?” Nina removed the negligee from the hanger, allowing the sheer silk trimmed with fur to slide between her fingers. “No personal checks. No exceptions.”

He raised both eyebrows, and then slammed them back in place, entrapping her in his laser-sharp focus for a long hot beat. “Natch.” Shrugging, he pulled out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Would you like it gift wrapped?” She took a gift box from beneath

the counter, set it on top and outlined it with gold speckled tissue paper.

“Not before I see it in action.”

“What do you mean?” She picked up a pair of scissors from the shelf, snipped off a length of ribbon from the roll, replaced the shears and folded the garment. Had to keep busy, the mantra drummed in her head, and remain detached from his sexual magnetism. Fat chance, but she had to try, didn’t she?