Ultimate Surrender

U
ltimate
Surrender

Copyright © 2016 by Lydia Rowan

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents are invented by the author or used fictitiously. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, businesses and business establishments, places, or events are entirely coincidental. This book is intended for mature audiences only. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

C
EO
and mercenary Lucian Silver is desperate to keep his defense company afloat. Taking on meddling investors was his last resort. But the mere presence of Cassandra Porterson and her watchful eye makes his blood boil—and his temperature rise. As much as he wants to hate her, he can't deny their irresistible attraction. And when Lucian discovers that Cassandra is far from the enemy he thought, he finally begins to let down his guard.

T
hen tragedy strikes
, and Cassandra is more in danger than he could have imaged. It's up to Lucian to save the woman he didn't want around—and now cannot live without. But can Lucian fight for love when terror is knocking down his door?

“
T
hirty-six thousand
, four hundred and seventy-eight.”

Cassandra Portersen tapped a high-heel-clad foot against the concrete floor as she scribbled on the notepad she held against her curved hip. When she finished speaking, she didn’t bother to look up. And although she spoke in that particular voice, one he’d come to recognize as one of displeasure even though it was barely above a whisper, Lucian Silver still heard her loud and clear.

As much as he wished it otherwise, he reacted to her voice, the wispy, soft sound sexy and soothing, which created an interesting dichotomy because the actual words she spoke instantly ignited Lucian’s anger.

He took a deep breath, trying to end the coming conflict before it began. When Cassandra had strolled into his office this morning, he’d promised himself that no matter what she said, he wouldn’t react, wouldn’t give in to the seemingly effortless way she could shake his control. He’d also sworn he would
not
respond to that damn nagging attraction she always inspired even when she was in the process of giving him shit as she was now.

“Is there some significance to that number, Cassandra, or was this excursion simply designed to waste my time?” Lucian asked, his own voice light, although he couldn’t quite manage the calm nonchalance that had been threaded through Cassandra’s.

She looked up when he spoke, and when he glanced at her, he felt that little kick in his gut, one that went deep and settled into a pulsing warmth that would turn into full-on arousal if the past was anything to go by. Lucian couldn’t make sense of Cassandra’s effect on him, but he knew his reaction to her was more or less an inevitability.

Right now, Cassandra was shrouded in darkness, the heavy armored door of the gun safe throwing shadows that obscured her face, the relatively dim lights in the subbasement making it difficult to really see her.

It made no difference at all.

Even in the shadows, even with her thick hair obscuring one side of her face, Lucian still responded.

At this point, he halfway suspected his reaction would be the same were they in pitch darkness. He shook his head quickly to clear the thought. Him and Cassandra in pitch darkness…that was a road he had no intention of going down.

He locked eyes with her, refocusing on the matter at hand despite the fact that he wasn’t entirely sure what that was.

“Well?” he asked, not having to fake the impatience that lit his tone.

“There is some significance to it,” she said, seemingly in no hurry to clue him in.

Lucian took yet another deep breath, counted to three, then kept going to five before he responded.

“Plan to share what that is?” he finally asked.

“Thirty-six thousand, four hundred and seventy-eight would be the number of bullets removed from the armory in the last three months,” she said, her tone taking on that lilt she always got when she was surprised or annoyed or disappointed in something Lucian and his team had done.

He let an easy smile, one totally at odds with the tumult that twisted inside him, cross his face. “That’s all?” he asked. “I’d thought it was a lot more.”

As he’d known she would, Cassandra frowned, her full lips pulling into a straight line and then down. As far as frowns went, this one was subtle, just enough of the downturn of her lips for him to see her displeasure. But her eyes flashed hot with anger. She recovered quickly, though, and then set her face in a much more neutral expression, one that spoke of disappointment and displeasure, but not the outright anger he’d seen a moment ago.

This conversation wasn’t over yet, but seeing that expression on Cassandra’s face might make the whole exercise worth it. Watching her, and watching her react, was always fascinating. Cassandra tended to be contained, controlled, or at least that was the front she put up. Lucian, though, could always see the range of emotions she fought to control and took satisfaction in those moments when he saw he had the power to shake her much like she did him.

Not that she’d ever admit it. In fact, Lucian would bet Cassandra would vehemently deny it, say his arrogance was getting the better of him and then give him one of those patented disapproving schoolmarm looks.

But Lucian knew the truth: he did get to her, at least sometimes. And there was another aspect of that Lucian always considered. What Cassandra didn’t know was that her disapproving schoolmarm expressions were some of the sexiest ones he’d ever seen. Twisted, he knew, but just one of those looks from Cassandra could keep him hard for days.

Best not to linger on that, though, or the amusement threatening to make itself known. He’d spoken with the express purpose of getting that very reaction out of her, and Cassandra hadn’t disappointed. Lucian was determined to enjoy the moment, one he knew wouldn’t last long. Cassandra could be teased, but so far, he’d never found her to be deterred.

As if to prove his point, she quickly closed the heavy armory door and keyed in the combination, the mechanical click of the lock ringing loud in the deserted subbasement that also served as storage for Silver Industries. Then, she turned to face him, moving quite gracefully on three-inch heels Lucian had steadfastly determined he would ignore. He’d failed as he always did, had also not been able to avoid taking a peek at her stocking-clad calves or the rest of the generous expanse of leg revealed by her short skirt. But at least he’d made the effort. That had to count for something.

As did the fact he’d indulged Cassandra enough to take this little trip in the first place, he thought to himself, again trying to return back to the matter at hand, and again reminded that he
still
didn’t know what that actually was.

He started to ask again. However, Cassandra didn’t look to be in an especially charitable mood as she turned and surveyed him, clearly having recovered from her earlier upset.

“Are you trying to turn this into a joke?” she asked.

Ahh, so she was going for the superior tack. He should have anticipated that, been ready to fend it off, but she’d caught him flat-footed. Before he could think, he was on the defensive, a place he ended up far more often than he liked with Cassandra.

“Is it something else?” he asked, his voice nearly thundering, not that she batted an eyelash.

“I view the survival of Silver Industries as anything but a joke,” she tossed back quickly.

“And how does the number of bullets my team uses influence Silver’s survival?” he asked, walking a step closer to her.

She still didn’t flinch. “It matters because I have to give a report to the shareholders,
your
shareholders. You remember them, right?” she asked, squeezing her fists though her arms still hung loose at her sides.

“How could I possibly forget about the shareholders? You’re shoving them into my face every time I turn around,” he said through clenched teeth, his nearly hissed-out words not at all reflecting the annoyance that was increasing by the moment.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes and stood a little taller, the movement making her look every bit as formidable as he knew she was. “Is that what you call it? Shoving them in your face?” she asked, daring him without words to contradict her.

Lucian had never passed up a dare.

“That’s exactly what I call it. I turn around and there you are, telling me that the shareholders want this or that, telling me my team is too much trouble,” he said, giving voice to the frustration that was now at full force.

“Maybe that’s what you hear because you’re too damn pigheaded to listen to me, but that’s not what I say. Not at all,” she said, her eyes flashing with anger but her voice still wispy, still barely more than a whisper.

“Then since there’s been such an oversight, why don’t you explain again?” Lucian said.

The slight flare of her nostrils was her only reaction, and a breath later, she started. “Lucian, I have to send quarterly reports to the shareholders so they feel comfortable with the state of the company and comfortable continuing to fund this business. Now I have to explain a two-hundred-percent increase in ammo costs. Not to mention that thing in Vietnam.”

“Don’t start, Cassie,” he said, his voice edged with warning.

That got more of a reaction out of her than anything else, her posture going ramrod straight and her eyes locking with his at his use of the hated nickname. “My name is Cassandra,” she said icily.

“Well, then, ‘Cassandra,’ just for the record, I don’t give a shit what some shareholder thinks. I’m going to lead my team and my company the way I see fit, even if doing so involves thirty-six thousand bullets,” he said, his eyes locked on hers the entire time.

“Not yours,” she said even more quietly than usual.

“What?” he asked impatiently.

“The company’s not yours,” she said, her voice a little louder this time.

“Oh, so that’s not my name on the side of the building?” he replied, looking at her incredulously.

“It’s your name, but this is not your company, as you seem to always forget. The Silver family owns a third,” she said, her gaze still locked with his, her stance still unyielding. “The rest is owned by shareholders, shareholders who want me to account for every dime and who have no stomach for your…antics.” She trailed off toward the end of her sentence but he still got the message.

Lucian’s chest burned, both at the reminder of what he tried so hard to forget and at the fact that he was powerless to deny what she said.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He turned to face her fully, his eyes on hers.

“If those shareholders understood anything about our business, they wouldn’t raise an eyebrow about a couple thousand bullets.”

“Perhaps,” she said, shrugging in a way that Lucian couldn’t quite interpret, “but the fact is, they are concerned about the budget and the attention you’re drawing.”

“You know we operate quietly,” he said, his voice still strong though there was no doubt Cassandra was clearly winning this battle.

“So what about Vietnam?” she asked, almost accusatory, though that could have been Lucian’s own self-consciousness at play.

“What about it?”

“Lucian, fiascoes like Vietnam could lead to Silver closing its doors.”

“Bet that would make your day,” Lucian said.

She frowned again, but this time Lucian couldn’t enjoy it. Her disappointment was too acute, and when she shook her head, he felt something too much like regret for his liking. “Then you really are as stupid as you’re acting,” Cassandra finally said.

She marched past him to the elevator and pressed the Up button. The tight way in which she pushed the button told him that he had gotten under her skin, but when she looked at him, she was the picture of unruffled.

“I’m done with this conversation for the moment. The report is due to the shareholders in four weeks. Make sure you read the draft before then,” she said.

Then, when the doors opened with a soft
swoosh
, she stepped inside and was gone.

Lucian waited a moment and then marched back to the armory and punched in the code. When the door unlocked, he stepped into the twenty-by-twenty gun safe and began doing a quick tally. Thirty minutes later, he emerged, having found everything in place. He’d known it would be, but his brother had always hammered into him the importance of maintaining supplies, and the old habit was one he hadn’t yet managed to shake.

Of course, there was another reason for his taking the time to do the count, one he was much less inclined to acknowledge though there was no way he could ignore it. Truth was, he’d needed the time to regain his equilibrium after this latest round with Cassandra, and time to prep for the next one, which was surely to come.