Dangerous love

“I'd rather you killed me." Irene didn't raise her voice, but her words seemed to hang icily in the elegant room. Her back was to the wall, physically and figuratively, as she faced her brother-in-law. "Truly, Irene,” Joel said, raising one languid brow. “Such melodrama." "I meant what I said." "You have no choice in the matter." She shook her head. “I spent six hellish years married to your brother and I will not walk back into the flames with you." He studied her slowly from head to toe, and his gaze was an insult. Many women found him handsome, with his slim, dark elegance and smouldering black eyes. Irene, however, felt only disgust. "I want you," he said. "from the moment Noel brought you into his house, I wanted you. There were times when I was so crazed from wanting you that I considered killing my brother. Now that he's dead, you belong to me." She glanced around the room, vainly searching for an escape. This room, with its expensive furnishings, moss-green velvet draperies, marble floor, and, most of all, the bed with its coverings of lace and rich brocade would be the boundaries of her life from now on. "It's not so terrible, is it?" Joel asked, obviously misinterpreting her expression. "Certainly better than that hovel in which I finally found you. I must admit that your ingenuity surprised me; not many people could evade me for weeks." "Evade" was a poor word to describe what she'd been through. She'd tried to get out of the city many times, but Joel had too much power and too many friends. Without money, she had no hope. His men had watched every cab, every airport, every train car; she had lived like a hunted animal, running, hiding, sleeping in stores and outbuildings- and yet it had all been preferable to this luxurious prison. "I wish I'd dared to throw myself in the river," she said. "And waste such beauty? Such fire? Ah, that would be a crime." "Crime! And how many laws have you broken, brother-in-law?" "All of them, I believe," he said. "Laws are for the sheep of this world. I happen to be more successful than the rest of the wolves, for I have the intelligence to at least appear to belong among them." "Yes, indeed," she said. "There are always rewards for hypocrites." Her heart hammered as she watched his mouth quirk upward in that cynical smile she hated. So elegant, her brother-in-law, Handsome, graceful, with a wit as sharp and cruel as his eyes. He moved closer so that his breath stirred the hair at her temples. She pressed closer against the wall, knowing that he wouldn't let her move away. "I have something for you," he said. He took a flat jewellery box from his pocket and opened it. Inside lay a necklace of yellow diamonds. The stones cast the candlelight back in a hard, golden glitter. "Exquisite, aren't they?" he asked, holding the necklace against her throat. "They make your eyes look like purest amber. Truly, I've never before known a woman who could outshine a diamond." Irene swallowed convulsively. "I don't want it." "Indeed? Most women would." Lightly, he ran his fingertip along her cheek. "It won't be a bad life, Irene. Noel didn't know how to treat a woman, but I do. I'll give you gowns and jewels, anything you want.' "Give me my son back." He smiled. "Your son is dead." "Nelson, oh, Nelson! "Then you have nothing to offer me." Joel closed the box, but his eyes seemed to retain the glitter of the stones. "I see you still possess that vales pride." "It's all that's left to me, isn't it?" "True. You're a fallen woman, Irene. No decent woman will speak to you, no decent man will raise his hand to help you. I can take you, I can keep you, and the world will count it only what you deserve." She lifted her chin. "That was Noel's and your doing, not mine." "Indeed it was. How very amusing to have the wronged wife cast in the role of the sinner, the good mother taking the blame for her son's death." Her hands itched with the desire to strike him. "You can take my body, but you'll never have me. I will fight you until the day I die. Just like Noel, you'll get little comfort from possessing me." “Ah, my dear, even now you don't understand." His smile sharpened, turning feral. "It was your very defiance that attracted Noel so; the more unwilling you were, the more he wanted you. And the more he enjoyed hurting you." Even to the death of my son. Oh, Nelson! With a muffled cry of rage and desperation, she slapped her brother-in-law. He grasped her arm and bent it behind her back. Pain exploded up to her shoulder. She refused to cry out, refused to look away from Joel's black, killer's eyes. "I always thought Noel was a fool for not breaking your spirit," he said, his voice soft. "But now I understand why. You fight hard, Irene. I find it exciting. Be warned, however, that I will break you. You will know your master, and you will submit." Terrified now, she tried to tear away from him. He laughed, a guttural sound of arousal, and sank his free hand into her hair. Dragging her head back with cruel force, he ground his mouth down on hers. She held herself stiffly, knowing that fighting would only incite him further. He let go of her arm, his breathing changing as he pulled her closer. As his hands began to move over her body, she tried to shut her mind away. But she couldn't; this was worse, much worse, than submitting to Noel. "Oh, please, God, will you spare me nothing? Someone knocked, loud and urgent in the strained quiet. With an oath, Joel tore his mouth from Irene's. “Who is it?" he shouted. “Samson, sir." “Go away. I'm busy." “Sir, there be a problem. On the shipping company." “Damn it all!” Irene tried to move away, but Joel grasped her throat and held her still. Pulling her hair free from the pins, he let it fall loose. "It's like silk," he muttered. "Noel used to drive me mad talking about how it felt against his skin. He used to tell me more things, to torment me. I know how full and white your breasts are, how sweetly curved your hips are. He even told me about the tiny birthmark upon your belly, just above your woman's mound. He told me he used to kiss it." She closed her eyes, refusing to react. Refusing to be. "I'll be back," he said, letting her go. "Wear your hair loose for me when I return. And nothing else." He turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. The sound of the key in the lock hung sharp and finally in the room. Irene stared at the closed door for a moment, then ran to press her ear to the panel. She could hear the men's voices clearly through the door "What the devil is it?" Joel demanded "The Global shipping company stock fall, sir. Travis's men had bought all the shares before we get there, the shipping company is now under his name "Damn, that conniving bastard! He must have gotten the information from someone close to us. Find that traitor for me, Samson." "yes, sir. But you'd better be careful with Grant; he's cunning and quick and hates you as much as you hate him." "Good," Joel growled. "He can tell his story to the Devil, for I'll be sending him to hell soon enough." They moved away then, and Irene couldn't hear anymore. But she'd never heard that note of frustration in Joel's voice before . She'd heard of Travis Grant, as had nearly everyone in country A. He'd come to the city, a man of great charm and ability and no past. Everyone had been curious; none had found out a single thing about him. In a few short years, Travis had carved a place for himself in the ruthless world of the waterfront company and had amassed a fortune. His prowess with the ladies was as legendary as his business acumen. A plan coalesced in Irene's mind-a reckless plan, and a desperate one. But she had good reason for desperation. Noel had taken everything from her but her pride and her sanity; a month with Joel, and she'd lose even those. She needed Travis Grant. She needed his strength, his ruthlessness, and his hatred of Joel. He alone could protect her. And what will you give him in return? "Anything," she said aloud. She had only one chance for freedom, and that would soon pass. Working swiftly, she tore the bedsheet into strips and knotted them together, end to end. No one had secured the windows; no one expected pampered Irene Robertson to climb down from the third story, which she promptly did. Heading out toward the city, she made a plan to get what she wanted most revenge. Revenge for herself, and for poor, lost son, Nelson.