REVENGE REVEALED: A Secret Baby Romance (Revenge Series)

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P R O L O G UE

achel heard the yelling from her suite
on the second floor and her instinct was
to ignore it. After all, it wasn’t like she

didn’t hear her father and brother going at it almost
daily, their fights growing worse with each passing
year.

Luke was a man now, no longer the scared boy who
used to cower back and endure their father’s hard
hand. He was lashing back, a fact that only
incensed their father worse.

Nothing to see here, she  reasoned,  shame  flooding
her at the thought. What could she do to stop them?
Luke  did  everything  in  his  power  to  protect  her
from the abuse their father inflicted upon him, and
or  course,  their  father  pretended  that  he  was
innocent  whenever  she  attempted  to  intervene.  It

was just another day in the life of the busted
Vaughan family.

Rachel was beginning to believe that the only way
for it to stop was through the death of one of them.

Poor Luke, she  thought,  gritting  her  teeth  together
as the voices grew louder but suddenly she realized
that  it  wasn’t  two  males  arguing  from  the  main
floor  but  Luke  and  a  girl.  The  knowledge  abruptly
made  her  much  more  interested  in  what  was
happening.

Who could that be now?

She rose from her computer desk and ambled
toward the door of her sitting room, her ears honed
to the trouble brewing below.

“…I swear to God, Luke! If you do this…” the girl
trailed off menacingly. There was unmistakable
misery in her tone, and the words caused a shiver to
roll through Rachel’s body.

“Col, you need to get out of here,” her brother
growled. “You’re causing a scene and security will
come along.”

Rachel wondered if it was security that worried
Luke or their father. Either way, Carter was likely
to hear about whatever these theatrics were about –
and he’d take it out on her brother. Silently, Rachel

willed the woman to go also.

“You’re going to regret this, you asshole!” the girl
below howled. “You will, I swear to God!”

What  is  this  drama  all  about?  The  ten-year-old
wondered,  her  curiosity  overriding  her  inherent
sense  to  mind  her  own  business.  If  it  had  been  a
conflict  between  her  dad  and  brother,  she  would
have popped her headphones on and prayed that it
didn’t turn physical, futile a hope as that might be.
Their  father  only  knew  how  to  communicate  with
his fists where Luke was concerned, and it seemed
Luke had long since learned to deal with it.

But this was different. This wasn’t a family issue.

Maybe  I  can  actually  help  Luke  this  time,  she
thought,  hope  filling  her.  So  many  times,  she’d
longed  to  play  hero  to  her  brother  the  way  he  had
for her. Not that Carter had ever laid a hand on her,
but  their  father  had  other  means  of  being  cruel,
ones  which  would  leave  deeper  emotional  scars
than Luke’s physical ones.

Before  Rachel  could  stop  herself,  she  was  at  the
landing  of  the  center  staircase,  peering  down  into
the  foyer,  ignoring  her  gut  instinct  to  leave  well
enough alone.

Below, Luke stood, his massive frame defensive,

arms crossed over his broad chest as he glowered at
the half-sobbing, half-screaming blonde before him.
At seventeen, Luke was bigger than most of their
father’s friends, towering and intimidating as he
stood over the girl.

Collette…what is she doing here?

Last Rachel had heard, her brother had broken up
with the unbalanced girl. It seemed that Collette
wasn’t taking the parting well.

Or maybe she’s taking it too seriously.

Rachel was still far too naïve in the ways of
relationships to fully understand what was
happening.

“I’ll  have  a  driver  take  you  home,”  Luke  said
firmly,  using  his  body  to  block  Collette  from
entering the house any further. From where Rachel
sat,  she  could  see  that  the  blonde  teen  was  not
amenable to that idea in the least.

“I don’t need your damned driver!” Collette
howled. “I need you! Can’t you see that? We’re
meant to be together!”

Rachel wasn’t sure who to feel sorry for. There was
a naked plaintiveness in Collette’s tone, the pain
cutting into the younger girl even from the distance
between them. But her loyalty was always to Luke

and if Luke wanted her gone…

“Is everything all right, Mr. Luke?”

Harry appeared in the foyer, his body nearly
bursting out of his too-tight suit. Rachel’s heart
caught in her throat.

Darn it. Now Daddy is definitely going to hear
about this.

“Everything’s fine,” Luke said quickly, casting
Collette a warning look.

“EVERYTHING IS NOT FINE!” she screamed.
“You’ve ruined my life!”

“Come on, Miss,” Harry said, reaching for her arm
to escort her off the property.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!” Collette
shrieked, wrenching herself away from the house
guard. “YOU DON’T TOUCH ME!”

“Collette!” Luke snapped, his patience expiring
entirely. “You need to go home!”

Rachel watched the scene in embarrassed disbelief,
unsure of who was at fault there. Even at her young
age, she knew her brother’s reputation for breaking
hearts but the anguish in Collette’s voice was
almost too much for Rachel to bear. She wanted to
run downstairs and tell Collette that everything

would be fine, but of course she didn’t dare.

As if sensing her standing there, Luke suddenly
turned, his eyes boring into hers.

“Go  back  to  your  room,  Rachel,”  he  growled  in  a
tone  so  low,  she  was  surprised  she  heard  it.  Or
maybe she only imagined he said it. In either case,
Rachel  didn’t  move.  It  was  like  she  was  frozen  in
place, waiting for the next scene to unfold.

“No! Let your sister see how you treat women! She
should know that her brother is a piece of shit!”
Collette snorted with derision in her tone. Rachel
was instantly defensive.

Luke doesn’t treat women badly. He’s the very best
person ever. You’re crazy!

Of course, the child said none of these things.

“All right, that’s enough, Miss,” Harry sighed,
seizing her arm firmly. Collette screamed as though
his touch was made of fire but Harry didn’t ease
up, marching her toward the door.

“Harry, take it easy!” Luke snapped, his eyes
flashing but the security man either didn’t hear or
didn’t heed Luke’s warnings.

“You’ll regret this!” Collette howled again. “You
mark my words!”

The door slammed behind her with finality as Harry
managed to wrangle her out of the house, leaving
nothing but a heavy silence in the front of the
mansion.

“Go back to your room, Rachel,” Luke muttered
after the initial shock of the display seemed to wear
off.

“What happened?” she demanded, unmoving from
her spot at the top of the staircase. “Why was she
so upset?”

Luke looked at her as if debating whether to
explain what she’d seen.

“She wasn’t ready to break up,” he sighed
reluctantly.

“Then  why  did  you  break  up  with  her?”  Rachel
wanted to know, her young mind uncomprehending.
It wasn’t like the girl had any basis of male/female
relationships, not when their mother had died years
earlier  and  their  father  was  never  around.  Sure,
there had been a string of bimbos coming and going
through  the  house,  but  none  who  had  stuck  and
certainly  no  one  to  introduce  Rachel  to  the  way
two  adults  were  meant  to  interact.  Rachel  had
certainly never seen a woman fight so hard to stay.

It had been humiliating to watch, and Rachel

vowed then that she’d never find herself begging
anybody to remain in a relationship with her.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” he replied,
spinning to stalk out of the front of the house and
out of her view. The answer did nothing to alleviate
the feeling of desolation Rachel had picked up from
Collette.

I  hope  she’s  okay,  Rachel  thought,  reluctantly
returning  to  her  suite,  her  heart  hammering.  She
decided  to  look  Collette  up  on  Myspace  and  send
her  a  message  on  her  wall,  even  if  it  might  mean
upsetting Luke.

Maybe  she  could  do  something  to  get  them  back
together.  Maybe  Collette  would  be  her  sister  one
day if Luke and her got married. The idea filled her
with  childish  excitement  and  she  sat  at  her
computer,  searching  for  her  brother’s  now-ex.
She’d always wanted a sister. As much as she loved
Luke, he didn’t understand what it was like to be a
girl with girl problems.

But before she could put her small fingers to the
keyboard, there was a knock at her door.

“Come in,” she called and Luke poked his head
inside the front room, a look of contrition on his
face.

“Hey,” he mumbled. “Can I talk to you for a
second?”

“Yeah.”

She turned away from the screen guiltily and hoped
he didn’t see what she was up to.

“Sorry you had to see that,” he said, not meeting
her eyes. “Collette…she’s not okay.”

Rachel stared at her brother. She idolized Luke but
she couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t more like
their father than he thought. It wasn’t something
she would ever say to his face, of course.

“What  do  you  mean?”  she  asked,  trying  to
understand  all  the  secrets  of  adulthood.  Luke
seemed  uncomfortable  and  he  paced  around  the
room, eyeing her nervously.

“You’re too young to understand stuff like this,” he
muttered, more to himself than his sister but Rachel
was hanging off his every word.

“Tell me,” she insisted, feeling slightly defensive at
the  generalization.  She  and  Luke  had  been  forced
to  grow  up  faster  than  most  kids  in  their  situation.
Granted,  there  was  almost  eight  years  between
them,  but  they  only  had  one  another.  Being  shut-
out by her brother wasn’t an option.

“Some girls are…” he trailed off, considering his
words carefully, perhaps realizing that whatever he
said might shape his sister’s world view for the rest
of her life. “Some girls don’t know when to walk
away.”

“Boys too!” Rachel said angrily. “It’s not just
girls!”

“Boys too,” he agreed quickly. “Sometimes people
read too much into what’s happening around
them.”

It was an odd statement given their upbringing.

“Collette  didn’t  want  to  break  up  but  she’s  not
someone I want to be with,” Luke rushed on like he
just  wanted  to  get  out  of  there  suddenly.  “It’s  not
my  fault.  She’s  just  not…she’s  not  someone  I  see
myself being with.”

“Why not?” Rachel insisted. “She’s nice and she
loves you.”

“We’re too young to be in love,” Luke snapped
with far more force than Rachel was used to
hearing from him. “I’m not looking to get married. I
don’t even know if I’m going to be here next year.”

The words slapped her in the face. On some level,
she’d always known that Luke would be leaving
the mansion but to hear the words in the open was

something else altogether.

“What?” she gasped and Luke’s face twisted into a
grimace, as if he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

“I’m just saying I can’t commit to a relationship
right now. Why am I discussing this with a ten-year-
old?” he grumbled to himself.

“Because I’m your sister!” she retorted, her
maturity shining through. “And where are you
going next year?”

“I’m going to college,” he reminded her but Rachel
couldn’t help but feel he meant something else.

“Anyway,” Luke continued. “Don’t worry about
Collette. She’s all bark and no bite.”

Rachel didn’t know what that meant but it didn’t
alleviate any of the tension mounting in her gut.

“She was pretty upset,” Rachel offered, peering at
her brother with inquisitive blue eyes. “Are you
sure she’s okay?”

“I can’t worry about everyone!” Luke exploded,
his face turning beet red. “I’ve got enough to think
about right now!”

Hurt pierced Rachel’s heart as she realized that he
was talking about her.

“Okay, Luke,” she breathed, looking away. “I
understand.”

But she didn’t. There was so much she had to learn
about the world yet, things that she could only
know from watching the men around her.

So far, she had an abusive father and a playboy
brother from whom to glean information. The
future seemed bleak somehow.

“Good,” Luke sighed. “Don’t worry about Collette
and focus on yourself. It’s the only way you’re
going to survive.”

Rachel already knew that advice was trite. What
was the point in living if she didn’t care about other
people? Compassion and kindness overcame hate
and evil, didn’t it?

“Okay,” she said, keeping her opinion to herself.
There was no point in arguing with Luke or her
father. She knew that already.

“And make sure you never become clingy and
needy like Collette,” Luke offered as an
afterthought. “You don’t need any man to validate
you, Rach. You learn to be self-sufficient. If I ever
hear that you’re acting the way Collette just did, I’ll
kick your ass, okay?”

Rachel swallowed the lump forming in her throat

and managed a weak smile, knowing that he would
never raise a hand to her. He was her protector,
after all.

“All right.”

Luke turned away, leaving Rachel to stew in a
cauldron of mixed emotions.

Luke’s right, she thought firmly. I’ll never make an
awful scene the way Collette did in some boy’s
house. I’ll have more pride than that.

But  as  her  brother  disappeared  into  the  hallway,
closing  the  door  behind  him,  Rachel  wondered  if
she wasn’t  in for  a  very lonely  life  ahead of  her  if
she  didn’t  permit  herself  to  love  and  trust  the  way
Collette had.

You’ll be smarter, she vowed. You won’t let anyone
break your heart. You’ll know the signs and hold
your head up always.

Sadly for Rachel, she proved to be a terrible
prophet.

“G

C H A P T E R 1

ood  morning,  Mrs.  Jeffers,”  Rachel
sang  softly,  pushing  the  tray  inside  the
facility-style  bedroom.  “How  are  you
feeling?”

Silence  met  her  question  and  a  familiar  sense  of
dread  shot  through  Rachel  as  she  hurried  in  to
check on her patient. To her relief, she saw that the
eighty-six-year-old  was  merely  sleeping  and  had
not passed in the night.

Quietly,  Rachel  moved  the  breakfast  tray  closer  to
the  bed  and  checked  Mrs.  Jeffers’  pulse  before
inching  back  out  of  the  room  and  leaving  the  old
woman  to  her  rest.  There  was  no  point  in  waking
her.

Although she might want to enjoy her waking hours

while she still has them, Rachel thought with a
morbid undertone, uncharacteristic of her usual
optimism.

Maybe  it  was  the  overcast  day  which  had  her  in  a
slightly  melancholy  mood,  with  dark  clouds
hovering  over  the  New  York  skyline  with  the
impending threat of rain.

Or maybe it’s just the endless ring of death in this
place.

“Uh oh. Did Mrs. Jeffers croak?” Grayson asked,
and Rachel raised her head to meet his eyes
reprovingly.

“What have I told you about using more tact when
discussing the patients?” she said reprovingly,
feeling like a hypocrite.

He doesn’t know what I was thinking, Rachel
reminded herself. But that didn’t make her feel any
better. Grayson shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

“You know what I mean,” he replied. Rachel’s
mouth turned down at the corners, stifling a sigh of
exasperation.

“Grayson, these are people,” she recited, giving the
new nurse the same lecture she’d given dozens of
others over the years since she’d started managing
the upscale hospice in Queens. “You need to show

them some respect.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled but Rachel knew he wasn’t.
Not really.

Not  that  she  entirely  blamed  him  for  his  apathetic
approach  to  the  patients.  This  was  where  people
came  to  die.  It  was  inevitable  and  everyone  knew
it.  Getting  too  involved  with  the  patients  would
break all of them. There was a reason why the staff
turn over was so high at the hospice. The faint-of-
heart  just  could  not  handle  the  haunted  halls  of
Hollywell Hospice.

“Go check on Alison Cooper,” Rachel said with
exasperation, knowing that her words had basically
fallen on deaf ears. Grayson seemed happy to be
released and practically bounded down the second-
floor hallway toward the Cooper room.

“He’s such a greenhorn,” Fergie muttered, stepping
out of another room. “How long do you think he’ll
last?”

“Long enough, I hope,” Rachel replied, sighing
heavily. “The turnover in this place is ridiculous
and frankly, I’m starting to feel like a robot training
new people.”

“I don’t know why you stay here, Rach. You could
be on your own private island, having your feet

rubbed by a cabana boy and being hand-fed
grapes,” Fergie growled. “You must be a sadist or
something,” she muttered.

Rachel  bristled.  She  wished  that  Fergie  would  quit
raising  the  topic  of  her  family’s  fortune  at  every
opportunity. It bothered her that her co-worker had
learned  of  her  true  heritage,  something  she  had
managed  to  keep  hidden  from  everyone  in  New
York - until Carter Vaughan had passed and she had
attended his funeral.

From  the  time  she  had  graduated  high  school,
Rachel had been determined to make it on her own
without  her  father’s  money.  Thankfully,  Luke  had
been  there  to  support  her  financially  through
nursing  school,  much  to  Carter’s  chagrin.  Her
father had been dead set against Rachel’s desire to
pursue a career helping others.

“You have a future with the company!” Carter had
protested, disgusted. “Why would you waste your
life changing bedpans?”

“Nursing is more than changing bedpans, Dad,”
Rachel groaned in disbelief. “What’s wrong with
wanting to give back a little?”

“You can give back by helping me run Vaughan
Industries. Your name is on the company for
Christ’s sake!”

So is Luke’s, Rachel had wanted to say but she
resisted the urge. The subject of her brother was a
sore one and Rachel knew that her hope of playing
peacemaker between them was nothing more than a
pipe dream. As much as her brother would loathe to
hear it, she knew that in some things at least, father
and son were cut from the same stubborn cloth.

Slowly, Carter had released his hold on her, perhaps
realizing  that  she  wasn’t  ever  going  to  be  the
daughter  he  so  desperately  wanted.  It  had  been
relatively easy for her to start her life alone and on
her  own  terms,  Carter  leaving  her  to  her  own
devices  as  she  furthered  her  career  in  the  health
care  industry.  No  one  had  ever  made  the
connection between her and Carter Vaughan – until
the day of his funeral.

The goddamned media. I could have happily lived
my life without anyone being the wiser if Carter
hadn’t dropped dead.

Overnight,  people  who  had  known  her  for  years
without  being  aware  of  her  relationship  to  the
conglomerate  CEO  suddenly  saw  her  mourning  at
his casket. It didn’t take much for them to make the
leap and Google her name thereafter.

“I stay here because I like helping people,” Rachel
replied shortly for what felt like the hundredth time.
“I stay here because this is my job.”

Why do I have to explain myself to these people?
It’s none of their damn business.

“Why would you even want to work, let alone in
such a depressing field?” Fergie insisted and Rachel
gritted her teeth, her dismal mood growing worse. It
was going to be a dark day, even if no one died.

“I’ve  got  to  check  on  something,”  Rachel  lied.
She’d  done  her  rounds  for  the  morning  but  she
didn’t  want  to  stay  chatting  about  her  father’s
money with Fergie anymore. There was no point in
explaining that she had been moderately estranged
from Carter Vaughan before his passing, her father
aghast  by  his  only  daughter’s  career  choice.  Not
that  it  was  surprising—altruism  and  Carter  were
never  synonymous.  That  didn’t  mean  she  wasn’t
saddened  when  he’d  died  rather  abruptly  a  year
earlier.

She  made  her  way  to  the  ground  floor  office,  her
mind  on  too  many  different  things  that  morning.
Flopping  onto  her  swivel  chair,  Rachel  ran  a  hand
through  her  silken  black  mane  that  framed  her
delicate face gracefully.

The phone rang and Rachel snatched it up, eager
for a distraction.

“Hollywell Hospice,” she answered, forcing a false
cheer into her voice. “Rachel speaking.”

There was a slight pause and some static.

“Hello?” she tried again.

“Uh, yes. I’m calling to arrange a tour of your
facility for my father. Hollywell Hospice was
recommended to me.”

“Our  patients  deserve  only  the  best  of  care  and
empathy  during  their  time  with  us.”  Rachel  said,
proud  of  Hollywell’s  mandate  to  give  dignity  to
their clients. “May I ask about his condition?”

“Does it matter?”

The question surprised her. Rachel was torn
between the deep resonance of the man’s voice and
the abrupt tone in which he had asked the question.

“Well,  yes…in  order  for  our  team  to  give  your
father  the  best  care  possible  during  his  time  in
hospice,  we  need  to  know  about  his  condition,
diagnosis  and  prognosis,  as  well  as  his  doctor’s
certification  of  his  need  for  hospice  care,”  she
replied delicately.

“Right, I should know all this,” the man sighed.
“I’m sorry. He’s got terminal cancer.”

“He’s decided to terminate any further treatments
then?”

There was another pause and Rachel found herself

annoyed and curious by the man’s lack of response.

The questions aren’t getting any easier, buddy, she
thought with exasperation.

“I’m  sorry,  sir,  I  know  these  questions  are  painful
but  we  want  to  ensure  that  Hollywell  is  the  best
facility for your father and that we have as much of
his  information  as  possible  to  make  his  time  here
comfortable and nurturing,” she explained softly.

“Maybe it would be better if I just come in and
speak with someone face to face,” he said, his tone
curt. After another pause, the voice on the other
end asked “What’s your name again?”

“Rachel Vaughan. I’m the manager here. And you
are?”

“Damien Smythe.” He replied after a moment.

“When would be a good time to set up an
appointment, Mr. Smythe?”

“What about today?”

Rachel found herself shrugging at his suggestion,
even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

Why not?

She looked at the desk calendar, knowing that there
was nothing booked for that day. It wasn’t like the

hospice  was  overflowing  with  people  or  that  she
had appointments day in and day out. The idea was
to  create  a  peaceful  environment.  Rachel  was
certainly not opposed to someone wanting to come
in  person  though.  It  was  her  job  to  ease  all  their
worries  and  let  them  know  that  their  family
member’s  last  days  would  be  dealt  with
appropriately,  compassionately  and  above  all,
respectfully.

“Does one o’clock work for you, Mr. Smythe?”

“Sure, Ms. Vaughan,” he replied. “I’ll be there.”

“What is your father’s name?”

To her surprise, the call was already disconnected
and Rachel was left staring at the receiver in her
hand.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was
off about the caller but in stressful situations,
people often acted contrary to their usual selves.

If my dad was dying, I’d probably sound a little
weird on the phone … or maybe not.

She realized suddenly that her own father was
weighing heavily on her mind that day. It was a
small wonder she was in such a bad mood.

Rachel picked up a pen and jotted the appointment

into  the  calendar  before  turning  her  attention
toward the computer screen. Without thinking, she
punched  the  name,  “Damian  Smythe”  as  if  guided
by  some  unseen  force.  She  saw  she  had  likely
misspelled  it,  as  most  of  what  popped  up  had
Damian with an “e”.

Instantly, her breath caught in her chest as her eyes
fell on a man in his early thirties, too sexy to be on
anything but the cover of People. His dark eyes
seemed to bore into her even from the thumbnail
photo before her, his angular face chiseled and firm
as if moulded from clay. He seemed more a Roman
god than the CEO of…what now?

Her

eyes

honed

the

information

accompanying his profile.

Achilles Technology.

Was that where she knew his name?

A closer inspection of his dark hair and enigmatic
eyes didn’t spark any more recognition, but Rachel
couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him from
somewhere. It didn’t matter—she’d meet him face-
to-face soon enough.

Hello  Mr.  Smythe,  she  thought,  a  twinge  of
familiarity  touching  her  gut  but  before  she  could
identify  it,  the  feeling  was  gone.  With  renewed

interest, she clicked on the first article she found,
still unsure if she was reading about the same man
with whom she’d spoken.

There  was  nothing  more  than  his  company’s
history,  a  Forbes  500,  publicly  traded  enterprise
which  he  had  apparently  started  himself.  In  fact,
there was nothing of mass interest at all except his
birthday and no record of a wife or children.

Get a grip on yourself, Rachel. Even if this is the
same guy, he’s a Gemini. Walk away.

She was beginning to wonder if she’d been drugged
at some point during the day. She was thinking like
a fool but even as she told herself that, she couldn’t
stop gaping at his handsome face, hoping that she
had found the right man.

The voice certainly fits, she thought, his
mesmerising tone still reverberating in her head.

A knock at the door caused her to jump guiltily and
she quickly closed the screen before anyone could
catch her cyberstalking a stranger.

“Come in,” she called quickly. Fergie appeared, a
grim look on her ebony face and Rachel instantly
felt her heart sink.

“Who is it?” she asked, knowing the look instantly.

“Mr. Jackson.”

“I’ll notify his wife,” she sighed and with a heavy
heart reached for the phone. Fergie nodded but
paused before turning away.

“I’ll never understand how you can do this instead
of claiming your family’s fortune,” Fergie muttered.
“This is a thankless job without a happily ever
after.”

Rachel held back from going over her reasons, yet
again.

“I don’t know who ever told you that life had a
happily ever after, Fergie, but I hate to tell you that
they lied. We’re here to ensure the last days of our
patients are peaceful and to help their families deal
with the loss when it happens.”

Fergie bowed her head and Rachel knew this loss
weighed heavily on her as well.

“Maybe,”

she

agreed,

pivoting

leave,

presumably  to  prepare  Mr.  Jackson’s  body.  “But  I
just  don’t  see  how  you  can  keep  doing  this  ...  you
connect  with  the  patients  more  than  anyone  else
here. If I were you, I’d run while I had the chance.
You have a perfectly good out from this suffering.”

Fergie didn’t wait for Rachel to respond, closing
the door behind her quietly. Rachel exhaled a

whoosh of breath before moving to pick up the
receiver again.

But  you’re  not  me,  Fergie,  Rachel  thought,
manipulating  the  keyboard  to  flip  through  the
contact list on her computer, her ear pressed to the
earpiece as she looked for William Jackson’s home
number.  You’ll  never  understand  how  important
making it on my own is and how detrimental taking
my father’s money would be for me.

Not long ago, Luke had made her an offer he
thought she wouldn’t be able to refuse either.

But  here  I  am,  she  thought,  her  eyes  falling  on
Esther  Jackson’s  phone  number.  And  not  for  the
first time, she wondered if her pride wasn’t getting
in  the  way  of  her  better  judgement.  Maybe  Fergie
was right. Maybe at some point she would want to
retire  to  an  island  somewhere  in  the  middle  of
nowhere  and  forget  about  the  heartache  the  world
doled  out  in  spades  —  for  now,  she  relied  on  the
emotional strength she had, to see beyond her own
discomfort and continue to ease her patients’ pain.

Besides that, abandoning her job and career would
also mean that Carter would have won and even in
his death, Rachel wasn’t ready to concede that fact.

Luke made it completely on his own and helped me
through school. I didn’t need Dad’s money then and

I don’t need it now.

Rachel  knew  she  couldn’t  let  Fergie  get  into  her
head  but  when  Esther  Jackson  broke  into  gut-
wrenching  sobs  in  her  ear  after  learning  about  the
death  of  her  husband,  Rachel  couldn’t  deny  that
being  enshrouded  in  grief  was  not  the  best  way  to
live.

Or  maybe  that  was  precisely  the  reason  she’d
chosen  the  job  in  the  first  place.  After  all,  sadness
was the primary emotion of her childhood. Almost
every  memory  she  had  was  layered  in  it  –  except
for  those  moments  where  Luke  snuck  her  away
somewhere

and

they’d

have

thrilling

brother/sister time.

He’d  often  sneak  her  out  of  the  house  on  a  sunny
summer  afternoon  and  take  her  to  the  small  lake
that  was  on  their  property.  It  was  more  of  a  pond
really, and guarded from view of the main house by
a thick copse of trees. There, he taught her to swim
and  skip  rocks  –  it  was  one  of  her  favorite
memories of all.

Another time, he had come to her room after dark
and woken her cautiously with a finger to his lips to
guard against her making a sudden noise. She
would have been about six years old. He led her to
the second-floor window in the upstairs study and
hoisted her carefully through.

They had sat together on their slanted roof for two
hours,  watching  a  meteor  shower  and  eating  the
chips  that  Luke  had  stashed  up  there.  Chips  were
her  favorite  snack,  but  Carter  had  forbidden  the
cook from buying them. That meant that Luke had
used  his  money  and  secreted  the  snack  away  just
for her.

He had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders to
keep  her  warm  and  taught  her  about  the
constellations. She didn’t remember a single one of
them,  but  the  memory  of  the  freedom  and
camaraderie  with  her  brother  was  crystal  clear  in
her mind.

But besides for those scarce moments of happiness
with Luke, her childhood had been bleak.

Maybe that’s why I gravitated to this field? Or was
it to try to alleviate the sadness from other
people’s lives? Maybe it’s the only emotion I’m
really capable of feeling…

C H A P T E R 2

ne o’clock came faster than Rachel had
expected. She had almost forgotten about
her appointment with Damien Smythe

except that somehow, the attractive face she’d seen
on Google had managed to linger in the back of her
mind, despite the heaviness of the day.

Esther Jackson had come to say goodbye to her
husband of fifty-six years and Rachel had made
arrangements for the funeral home to take him. She
couldn’t help but feel that Mr. Jackson’s death was
only the beginning to a series of events she couldn’t
yet foresee.

Fatalism never suited you, Rachel reminded herself
when she got back to the office. You are supposed
to be the optimistic one.

She  paused  as  the  soles  of  her  flat  shoes  touched
the  main  floor  of  the  Victorian  styled  house,  her
heart  skipping  a  beat  when  she  saw  a  man  who
could only be Damien Smythe standing in the foyer.
He  was  alone  and  seemed  too  large  for  the  small
space as he looked about with a slight frown on his
face.  He  hadn’t  seen  her  yet,  giving  Rachel  the
opportunity  to  study  his  too-handsome  face  with
wide,  disbelieving  eyes.  Impossibly,  he  was  hotter
in person than he had been on the computer, but he
most definitely was the same person she had found
online.

Even  from  the  slight  distance  between  them,  she
could  make  out  the  intensity  of  his  almost-black
eyes  burning  through  thick  dark  lashes.  His  hair
was more dishevelled than it had been in the photo
- thick and wavy - longer than the image she’d seen
earlier.

Still, he reeked of money in an expensive suit,
standing at least six foot three with the toned body
of a man who worked out religiously.

I  wonder  when  he  finds  the  time,  she  mused,
knowing the cost that running a top notch company
took on one’s personal time. She stalled a bit longer
before  making  her  presence  known,  her  ladyparts
suddenly catching on to the prime specimen before
them  and  jumping  up  and  down  and  blowing  fog

horns to let her know that they were available for
an interview with the man too.

Rachel swallowed back her annoying libido and
forced herself into his line of sight.

“Mr. Smythe?” she asked, blushing as she heard the
odd pitch of her voice. His gaze rested on her, his
eyes widening with an interest that hadn’t been
there a moment earlier.

“How did you know?” he asked in the same deep
tone which Rachel recognized from the phone.

“I  wasn’t  expecting  anyone  else  today,”  Rachel
explained,  striding  toward  him  with  her  hand
outstretched.  He  took  it  and  released  it  just  as
quickly,  barely  allowing  Rachel  to  enjoy  the
warmth of his touch against her soft fingers.

“Let’s go in my office and we can discuss your
father’s situation,” she suggested, gesturing toward
the closed door just beyond the foyer.

“Fine.”

Damien’s demeanor was brusque, hard to identify.
He seemed to be both hot and cold, eyeing her with
an undeniable interest in his eyes but keeping her at
bay simultaneously.

He’s not here for a date, she reminded herself. No

one likes having to deal with the idea that their
loved one is dying.

“Can I get you a coffee or—”

“No,” he interjected. “What can you tell me about
this facility?”

He’s right down to business. All right.

Rachel loathed that she was disappointed by his
lack of interest. She was embarrassed by the
attraction she felt for the man.

“I assume you’ve been on our website,” Rachel
said, sitting and gesturing for him to do the same.
He seemed reluctant but he eventually lowered his
large frame into a chair, his eyes fixed on her.

“You are Rachel Vaughan, aren’t you?” he asked
quite unexpectedly. Her brow furrowed.

“Yes…” she replied slowly. “I’m the manager and
head nurse of this facility.”

“How long have you been here, Rachel? May I call
you Rachel?”

You can call her anything you want if you massage
her hooha, her traitorous clit shouted in her mind.
She tamped down that body part too. Great – pretty
soon all that’ll be left able to speak to him is my
brain.

Oooh, whispered her brain, I like the idea of the
massage…

“Of course, Mr. Smythe.”

He didn’t tell her to call him Damien, and that
oddly disappointed Rachel.

“So? How long have you been here?” he asked,
sounding slightly impatient.

“Six years. I was promoted to management four
years ago.”

“Interesting  –  you  must  have  made  a  good
impression  to  be  promoted  so  quickly,”  he
responded  with  a  hint  of  surprise  in  his  tone.  A
touchable dimple appeared briefly on his cheek.

“And what do you do, Mr. Smythe?”

One sexy eyebrow raised, as if he was surprised at
her audacity to quiz him.

“I own a company,” he replied vaguely. “Please tell
me about this facility.”

Somehow, Rachel felt like he was avoiding her and
sizing her up at the same time.

“Well, like I said, all the information, as well as a
virtual tour are available online. Should I take you
through the site?”

“Not now,” he replied shortly, sitting back to lean
an ankle over the knee of his left leg. “I was hoping
for a more humanitarian approach. You can provide
that, can’t you?”

Rachel’s  ire  was  growing,  she  was  getting  the
impression  that  Damien  didn’t  trust  that  she  was
fully  capable  of  running  this  institution.  He  had
absolutely no reason to doubt her or her job ethic.

His way of seeking to make her uncomfortable for
no good reason made her realize that he was no
different than any of the hundreds of men who had
come in and out of her family home when she was
a child. He was trying to get the upper hand by
making her feel like she was incapable.

That’s disappointing. I would have liked for him to
be a rich guy without the attitude, for once.

Rachel knew she would just have to draw upon her
inner rich girl, difficult as it was. She had almost
completely forsaken that part of her life, for good
reason.

She offered him a frigid smile of her own, sure it
didn’t come close to reflecting in her eyes.

“I am sure you will find Hollywell very
accommodating, but as I explained on the phone, I
would need to know a little bit more about your

father’s condition before we go any further.”

“You’ll know everything you need to know if I
decide he should stay here.”

“I feel like we’ve somehow managed to get off on
the wrong foot, Mr. Smythe, although I can’t say I
understand why,” Rachel told him bluntly. “My job
is to ensure that the best quality of care is provided
for  each  of  our  residents.  You  mentioned  on  the
phone  earlier,  that  we  were  recommended  to  you,
so  I  can  only  assume  that  the  dignity,  compassion
and quality of our care were not being questioned. I
also  assume  you  would  want  your  father  to  be
cared  for  with  that  same  empathy  and  humanity.  I
don’t  really  understand  why  you  seem  to  be
circumventing  my  questions  and  yet  questioning
Hollywell’s  ability  to  assist  your  father.  I  have
nothing  to  gain  by  your  father’s  admission  to  this
facility.”

He was clearly taken aback by her frankness, his
eyes enlarging slightly but Rachel also couldn’t
miss the appreciative glint in his eye.

“You have a sale to make, don’t you?” he retorted
with some crassness. Rachel bristled at the idea.

“If you’re implying that I make some sort of
commission, you’re sorely mistaken,” she growled,
inexplicably hurt that this man, this stranger,

suspected the worst of her without knowing the
first thing about her.

“Really?” He sounded dubious. “You don’t make a
bonus if the beds are filled?”

Rachel ground her teeth together, attempting to
steel her temper.

“If that’s how you feel, Mr. Smythe, then maybe
you shouldn’t be looking into hospice residences.
Perhaps home health care is a better option for your
father.”

You can certainly afford it.

Although Rachel knew that Hollywell had an
excellent reputation, and often catered to the more
elite families in society, she understood that some
people preferred to keep their loved ones at home.

She knew she shouldn’t judge him. Every situation
was different and money was only a small factor as
to why someone wouldn’t want a parent to die at
home but Rachel’s dislike for the man was growing,
despite her inexplicable attraction toward him.

I’d angry fuck him—if he promised not to talk, she
thought, her eyes falling on his full mouth with
annoyance.

“You’re not a very good salesperson, Rachel.”

His tone was mocking and a smirk was playing
around his mouth, bringing the dimple back into
play. Rachel was less impressed by that this time. In
fact, she was about two seconds away from sending
him out the door.

What is he even doing here? He doesn’t want to set
his dad up here.

“Like I said, Mr. Smythe, this isn’t a sale — despite
your implication that I have something to gain from
“filling  beds”,  my  primary  concern  is  for  your
father.  If  his  illness  has  progressed,  as  you  say,
beyond treatment, the remaining days he has in this
world  deserve  to  be  as  comfortable,  dignified  and
peaceful  as  is  humanly  possible  for  him.”  She
paused briefly, trying to keep her tone conciliatory
and professional. “You requested this meeting, Mr.
Smythe, but I get the distinct impression you came
here  to  insult  me  for  reasons  I  don’t  claim  to
understand. Perhaps an alternate hospice would be
advised.”

Oddly, a look of contrition fell on his face and he
lowered his eyes for the first time.

“I apologize,” he said quietly. “You’re right. This
entire situation with my dad…”

He trailed off and Rachel felt a familiar spark of
compassion shoot through her.

I shouldn’t have been so rude to him either.

“I do understand, Mr. Smythe. This disease is cruel
and  losing  a  loved  one  to  it,  especially  a  parent,
evokes  any  number  of  emotions.  The  decisions
you’re  faced  with  in  navigating  his  care  are
stressful  and  extremely  overwhelming.”  she  said
softly,  leaning  over  the  desk  and  willing  him  to
meet  her  eyes.  “Why  don’t  we  try  this  again,  all
right? Tell me about your father and his needs.”

Damien raised his head, holding her gaze for
several moments before nodding slowly, a deep sigh
escaping his mouth in a rush.

“He’s got stage 4 cancer,” he explained. “All we
can do now is keep him comfortable.”

“I’m very sorry. May I ask which hospital has been
handling his care? I can send for a copy of his
medical files if you have power of attorney for
him.”

“That’s the thing,” Damien muttered. “I don’t and
he’s too stubborn to sign.”

A  prickle  of  apprehension  shot  through  Rachel.
This  would  make  matters  more  difficult,  certainly,
but  it  wouldn’t  be  the  first  time  that  children  had
tried to make plans for their parents’ future without
their parent’s consent.

Depending on the situation, a court order could be
issued but that would depend on the mental fitness
of the patient.

“Where is he now?” Rachel asked, reaching for a
pen. “I could contact him and advocate on behalf
of Hollywell.”

“No!” Damien said sharply, causing her to look up
in surprise.

“He doesn’t know you’re here,” she concluded and
Damien darted his eyes away again.

“No.”

“I see.”

She settled back against the high back of the leather
chair and chewed on her lower lip. Again, she was
struck by the sense that she knew this man from
somewhere but it was a fleeting notion as he, too,
leaned forward to meet her gaze.

“He needs full-time care, Rachel,” Damien insisted,
his gravelly voice a throaty growl. “My sister and I
have been trying to convince him for a year now
but he’s pigheaded — it’s part of the reason the
cancer has progressed as far as it has.”

“Having siblings can help. You and your sister
could petition the court in this matter—”

“No!”

Rachel’s mouth parted in shock as she stared at
him, unsure of why he was yelling at her.

“It was just a suggestion,” she muttered.

You came to me! She wanted to bark at him but she
managed to hold back.

“My sister…she’s finally happy in her life,” he
muttered. “She can’t be a part of this – I won’t
have her happiness jeopardized by this.”

“Okay…”

Rachel wasn’t sure if she was endeared or put-off
by his reaction.

Luke  would  have  reacted  the  same  way  if  he  was
sitting  in  that  chair.  He  would  do  anything  to
protect  me  from  stress.  But  I  would  deserve  to
know.  It’s  not  Damien’s  place  to  shield  his  sister.
She  has  just  as  much  a  right  to  decide  on  their
father’s limited future.

“Look,  he  won’t  let  anyone  take  care  of  him.  But
he  can’t  take  care  of  himself  either.  He’s  just  too
damn  stubborn  to  admit  it,”  Damien  growled.
“Never mind, I’m not sure why I bothered to come.
You wouldn’t understand.”

I don’t, Rachel agreed silently, never having

experienced that protective and loving bond with a
parent, but she could definitely understand the
stubbornness of a father that wouldn’t listen.

After all, her childhood had been based on it. And
no amount of pleading on her part had ever
changed her father’s course of action.

Rachel  remembered  hearing  terrible  stories  of  her
father’s  actions  when  she  was  a  child.  How  he
would obliterate any obstacles in his way, people or
otherwise,  without  a  humanitarian  care  for  the
destruction he left behind. She often wondered if he
reveled in it.

She realized suddenly that she wanted to
understand this man before her though, despite the
nagging warnings that seemed to be flashing before
her eyes like police sirens.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what else to tell you, Mr.
Smythe,” Rachel told him raising her shoulders.
“Without your father’s consent—”

His stare continued to pierce her, and the possibility
of the nature of the thoughts behind the enigmatic
penetrating gaze were causing her blood to sizzle
with awareness. She was sure the attraction was on
her side only, but she’d have killed to find out what
he was thinking in that moment.

She wasn’t sure if he was angry at her for not being
able to solve his problem – when she had no power
to do so – or if he was trying to think of a way to
get  his  father  to  see  things  from  his  point  of  view.
He  obviously  cared  about  the  man  and  what  was
best  for  him  in  his  final  months,  but  Rachel  would
bet  that  the  father  was  as  strong  willed  as  his  son
seemed to be – and as unwilling to bend.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

The fact that her jaw didn’t hit the desk was a
miracle in itself.

“I — I’m sorry?” she asked, sure she’d misheard
him.

“Dinner. Do you eat dinner?”

“I-no-I, what?” In her shock, she realized she was
sputtering but the invitation had caught her
completely off guard.

“I just feel like we could have a more in-depth
conversation in a less formal setting,” he explained.

Is that it?

Damien stared at her expectantly and Rachel’s
pulse quickened. A little voice in her head told her
to refuse, that it was unethical to have dinner with
the son of a potential patient.

Potential is the operative word. It’s not really a
breach of ethics. Hollywell can call it lobbying.
Hell, I might even be able to write it off as a client
dinner.

“You’re busy,” he said, rising.

“No! No, I’m not,” she heard herself say before she
could stop the words. “I’m off at six.”

“Perfect. I’ll have a car come for you.”

He turned toward the door as Rachel slowly rose to
her feet, her head swimming from the entire
conversation.

“Until tonight, Rachel.”

And as abruptly as he had entered her life, Damien
Smythe left with Rachel completely thrown into
confusion.

What the hell was that about? She wondered, but
she couldn’t deny that her heart was racing at the
anticipation of seeing him again.

“W

C H A P T E R 3

here to, Mr. Smythe?”

It was a valid question but not

one that Damien could readily answer.

“Just drive around a bit, George. I need to get my
head on straight,” he told the driver.

“Everything okay, Mr. Smythe?”

Damien eyed the man who peered at him through
the rear-view mirror of the limousine and
considered the query.

“I’m not sure,” he finally answered truthfully, not
at all pleased with the way things had just gone.
“Just drive for a bit, please.”

The chauffeur didn’t argue and Damien lifted the

privacy glass between them, turning his attention
out the window to watch Hollywell slip away as
George pulled out from the curb.

That did not go at all as I expected, he thought, the
image of Rachel Vaughan etched in his brain like
she’d been burned in with a soldering iron.

But  what  had  he  expected  really?  It  came  as  no
surprise  that  she  had  matured  into  a  stunningly
beautiful  woman.  After  all,  he  and  his  father  had
been  keeping  a  distant  eye  on  the  Vaughans  for
years, biding their time.

What  did  take  him  aback,  was  her  passion.  The
crystalline  blue  of  her  eyes  seemed  to  pierce  his
soul, when she’d been justifiably telling him off. He
knew he had acted like an arrogant SOB, letting the
real reasons for approaching her, direct his handling
of her. The fact that she effectively took him down
several  notches,  forcing  him  to  respect  her  on  a
level  he  was  not  expecting  to,  surprised  him.  The
fact  that  she  informed  him,  in  no  uncertain  terms,
that she only had his father’s best interest at heart,
shocked him even more so, given what the Vaughan
family stood for — dollar signs.

Damien found himself sincerely looking forward to
the date he’d arranged for them that night. If only
to give her a chance to let her true self shine
through to him.

Don’t be stupid, he chided himself. It’s not a date.
Not really.

But even as he tried to reason with himself, he
knew that he had been undeniably attracted to
Rachel Vaughan.

Shocking, Damien thought sarcastically. A Vaughan
manipulating you. What a surprise.

He knew better than anyone the ways of the
Vaughans, their aptitude for deception and the way
they could ruin one’s life.

Beautiful or not, she’s not going to fool me. But I
AM going to have to fool her for this to work.

All those questions she was asking, about his father,
meant  Damien  had  some  research  to  do,  before
their meeting that night. He, thankfully, knew little
about  cancer,  much  less  terminal  cancer,  since  his
father was in no way touched by it. Damien would
not be caught off guard again. If this plan was going
to  work,  he’d  have  to  do  his  homework,  and  not
assume  he  could  just  intimidate  Rachel  into  taking
his father into her facility.

Damien  couldn’t  help  but  scoff  at  the  false  façade
she projected to the rest of the world. He knew that
behind  the  fake,  benevolent  front  she  showed  the
world,  her  family’s  fortune  continued  to  grow  as

they ground innocent people down under their feet.

He was sure that they had all planned her supposed
“career” to make the family look altruistic. But he
also knew there wasn’t a philanthropic bone in the
Vaughan family’s entire crypt, never mind the
current reigning siblings.

But  she  had  seemed  so  sincere  in  explaining  how
important  it  was  to  provide  empathy  and
compassion  to  her  patients  and  their  families.  Just
went to show what a great actress she had become.
Or possibly, she had gotten cut out of the will?

He  immediately  discarded  that  idea  when  the
memory  that  his  father  had  described  to  him  filled
his  mind.  Of  Rachel,  laughing  at  his  sister’s
humiliation.  Her  cruel  childhood  taunts  adding  to
the  already  burning  weight  that  had  plagued  his
sweet and innocent sister.

He forced himself to harden his resolve again ... He
didn’t  care  about  her  finances.  He  had  not  agreed
to  this  plan  for  money  —  he  was  wealthy  in  his
own  right.  No,  what  he  wanted  from  Rachel  and
her brother was something completely different.

Dammit ... Why did she have to seem so damned
warm and sincere?

He hadn’t been expecting that either, regardless of

the  fact  that  Rachel  was  a  hospice  nurse.  As  his
father had explained to him time and time again, it
had  been  a  brilliant  strategic  move  to  improve  the
harsh  reputation  that  Carter  had  created  for  his
family.

How  horrible  could  a  family  be  if  they  had
produced someone who was so warm and caring as
to  practically  donate  her  life  to  taking  care  of
terminally  ill  people?  They  must  be  good  people,
right?

It made him sick to think of the sham that family
portrayed, the utter bullshit of it.

Who cares what everyone else thinks? All that
matters is that the Vaughans learn their lesson. An
eye for an eye, and all that.

He steeled his resolve and hardened his will.

His brain scoffed at his tough talk, as it pointed out
to him that something else had hardened while
thinking about his upcoming meeting with Rachel.

Fuck. Don’t get distracted by her pretty face now,
he lectured his cock. Or her lithe body. Or her long
silky hair that he suddenly pictured wrapping his
fist around as he pulled her head back for a kiss.

He silenced his libido and re-affirmed what he
knew of the sibling pair that had been the focus of

his plan for years.

Then he silenced the nagging doubts formulating in
his  mind  –  determined  to  keep  her  cast  in  her  role
of manipulation, right down to the very patients she
cared  for.  She  had  to  be  getting  something  out  of
this!  The  Vaughans  had  no  consciences  and  would
do anything they could to get ahead.

She probably robs the corpses or something. Steals
their drugs.

The inane thoughts didn’t make him feel any better
but it also didn’t slow the momentum of the plan. It
had been in the works for far too many years and it
was past time to put things in motion.

“George,” he said suddenly, lowering the glass
again. “Take me to the house in Bay Ridge.”

“Of course, Mr. Smythe. Should I call ahead?”

“No,” Damien replied. “I’ll call.”

George abruptly guided the stretch limo into the left
turning lane and Damien glanced at his watch.
There were several hours before his impromptu
date with Rachel. It hadn’t been his intention to ask
her out, but the meeting had not gone according to
plan at all.

Who would have thought that she’d invite him very

primly to seek other hospices or even home care?
The dynamic he had planned to create with her had
been skewed from the start.

He had expected her to practically jump on him and
the idea of getting his father placed into the
hospice. He certainly hadn’t expected her to feel
for his father’s plight.

Or possibly she had seen through his attempt to
maniplulate her. Could that be it? Was he actually
being manipulated by her?

The thought made his resolve harden even more.

If that’s the case, she won’t know what hit her when
I’m finished.

His family would never be hurt by hers again.

The plan was in motion and they were going all the
way.

The limo pulled up outside the Colonial style house
on the water and George hurried around to open
the door for him.

“I won’t be long, George,” Damien told him and
the driver nodded.

Damien made his way up the flagstone pathway,
noting the slight bite in the September air, as if the
weather longed to turn but the summer wasn’t quite

finished with them yet.

He paused to ring the bell, looking back toward the
New York Harbor.

“Mr. Damien!” Rosalin cried. “How lovely!”

He flashed the housekeeper a warm smile and
allowed her to usher him inside.

“Why you no come visit more?” Rosalin
demanded. “I ask and Mr. Franklin tell me you
busy with your company, no time for us.”

“That’s not true, Rosa,” he replied gently. “I always
have time for you. But he’s right—the company
does keep me busy.”

“You need wife, babies,” the middle-aged woman
insisted and Damien couldn’t resist a smile.

“You keep promising to set me up with one of your
granddaughters,” he reminded her. She scowled.

“You are too good for those gold-digging putas,”
Rosalin whispered in a loud voice. Damien snorted.

“That’s your family!” he protested, amused at her
liberal tongue. Rosalin shrugged.

“I speak the truth. I no want to see you used for
your money, querido. You are good boy. You find a
good woman with hips to give you children, not

these selfie-taking cholas who no understand a
good man when they see him.”

A pang of uncertainty touched Damien’s gut.

I wonder what Rosa would say if she knew what I
was doing with Rachel Vaughan. She wouldn’t think
so highly of me then, would she?

“Is he home?” Damien asked, eager to change the
subject and she nodded, patting his cheek
affectionately.

“Yes but he in one of his moods.”

“What else is new?” Damien asked dryly. “Where
is he?”

“Sun room.”

“Thanks, Rosa.”

“I make you something to eat. No woman want to
marry a skinny man.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Rosa hurried off toward the huge kitchen,
Damien made his way toward the sun room where
Franklin sat, smoking a pipe.

“That’s a filthy habit,” Damien greeted him.

Franklin didn’t look up as he grunted.

“Filthy  habits  are  what  makes  the  economy  go
‘round,”  the  older  man  replied.  “Can  you  imagine
where  the  world’s  economy  would  be  without
drugs, alcohol, tobacco or firearms?”

“In a state of peace?” Damien offered. Franklin’s
mouth became a fine line of disapproval.

“What have I told you about bringing your left-
wing propaganda into my house?”

“I like how I say ‘peace’ and you automatically
consider that an attack.”

“Damien, did you come here to discuss your
ridiculous socialist views or do you need
something?”

“I made contact with Rachel Vaughan today.”

Franklin’s head whipped around to look at him for
the first time.

“Did you now?” he drawled. “And how did that
go?”

“Good. Fine,” Damien said quickly.

“What did you say?”

“I told her that I’m looking for hospice care for my

father.”

“And?”

“And it led to a date tonight,” he said.

“What  kind  of  woman  makes  a  date  with  a  man
under  such  circumstances?  You  go  there  to  talk
about  your  dying  father  and  she’s  dropping  her
panties. That entire family is despicable.”

Damien didn’t bother to admit that he was the one
who had brought it up, and that he had implied that
the dinner would provide a way for them to discuss
his ailing father and Damien’s predicament. It
wouldn’t change his father’s mind about anything.

I guess it’s good for him to hold onto that anger.
It’s what keeps our eyes on the prize — revenge is
messy, after all.

“Have you found out any more about Vaughan
Industries?”

“I  told  you—I  just  made  contact  with  her  today.
But  I’m  not  sure  she’s  cashing  in  on  any  of  her
inheritance.  She  certainly  doesn’t  seem  to  be
playing the role of heiress.”

“Carter probably disinherited her then. But it
doesn’t matter – I thought the same of his son, but
now we know for a fact that Luke is running the

company.  They’re  obviously  close  and  they  have
the  exact  same  moral  fibre.  She’s  in  on  the
desecration  Vaughan  Industries  creates.  There’s  no
doubt.”

“Her financials don’t indictate that she’s getting
anything more than the money she’s earning.”

Franklin snorted derisively.

“Maybe  she’s  spending  it  in  other  ways  ...”
Franklin  commented  leeringly.  “Just  because  it’s
not showing up in her bank account, doesn’t mean
it’s  not  in  some  off-shore  account  somewhere.
Don’t  be  fooled  by  what  you  see  before  you,
Damien.  How  many  times  do  I  have  to  tell  you  to
follow your gut and not your eyes?”

Damien ground his teeth together.

Every time I see him, it’s a lecture in my bad
business sense. It’s getting old.

“She  probably  sees  you  and  thinks  money  signs  ...
she’s  probably  already  thinking  of  ways  to  get  a
hold  of  your  money!”  Franklin  continued,
grimacing. “Are you going to be able to do this?”

“Of course,” Damien snapped, offended by the
question. “This is what we’ve been working toward
for years. The Vaughans will finally get what they
deserve.”

“Everyone  who  comes  into  contact  with  these
people  gets  hurt—both  literally  and  figuratively.
Luke  was  a  goddamn  MMA  fighter  before  he
decided to drop the sham and show that he was still
close with his father. Lies! All of them!”

His father’s face contorted with anger. “Pretending
to turn his back on his father and the Vaughan name
– then admitting that he was the goddamn CEO.
Don’t forget!”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Damien insisted.

Franklin paused and studied Damien carefully.

“Your tone sounds funny. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

Franklin’s red-rimmed eyes became slits.

“Damien, don’t forget why this all started. If
you’ve lost sight of what happened in the past—”

“I haven’t! Stop putting words in my mouth. I’m
still very much on board.”

“If you can’t do this—”

“Are you trying to change my mind?” Damien
snapped. “Because that’s what it sounds like.”

“I’m just making sure you’re not going to bail in the

middle of this.”

“How many more ways do you want me to tell you
I won’t?” Damien retorted. “I came to you, didn’t
I?”

“I suppose you did but that was a long time ago.
People change.”

“I haven’t changed.”

“No, you haven’t, have you? You’re still very
protective of your sister.”

A heavy silence fell over the room and Damien
flopped onto the oxblood settee.

“Just watch out. She’s very pretty, Rachel
Vaughan,” Franklin finally said, breaking the
silence. “And I’m sure she knows how to use it to
her advantage.”

Damien’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead in
disbelief.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Damien
demanded, aghast. “That I’m going to fall in love
with Rachel Vaughan? Because she’s attractive?”

Franklin visibly shuddered at the idea.

“If you do, I don’t need to tell you how disowned
you will be. Besides, I’m more worried about her

pulling  a  fast  one  on  you  ...  just  be  sure  to  keep
your…interests…protected. She’ll do whatever she
can to outwit you ... and I won’t be forking out any
of  my  fortune  for  any  screaming  little  Vaughan
bastard  she  tries  to  trap  you  with.”  He  made  no
attempt to disguise his hatred.

“Thanks, Dad—for the complete lack of faith in me
— it warms my heart!” Damien muttered with
sarcasm.

“I’m just trying to protect my own,” Franklin
growled. “You can’t fault me after what happened
with your sister.”

“Sure I can,” Damien retorted. “If you haven’t
figured out the difference between the two of us by
now, maybe you never will. I am not her. I don’t
think with my heart.”

I don’t shut off my brain when all the warning
signs are screaming at me.

Damien got to his feet and strode toward the door
as Rosalin reappeared, a silver tray in her hands.

“No! You no go! I made you sandwich!”

“Sorry, Rosa,” Damien sighed. “I have to go.”

He gave the housekeeper a peck on a wrinkled
cheek and she scowled.

“Don’t be mad!” he called over his shoulder. “I’m
following your advice.”

“What advice?” she demanded, her thick accent
following to his retreating back through the
corridor.

“I’m going out on a date.”

As he disappeared toward the front door, Damien
found himself overthinking the words he had
spoken to his father mere minutes before.

I’m nothing like my sister. I’d never give someone
that kind of power over me. And I will never need
someone so badly that I lose myself.

His  thoughts  drifted  back  to  how  Rachel  and  her
father and brother had torn his world apart when he
was just a kid. The memories of the chilling events
weren’t  exactly  his  –  they  had  been  described  for
him  by  his  father  and  sister.  The  tragedy  and  the
pain,  the  taunting  and  the  ridicule,  all  painted  out
for him by the only family he had.

Their plan was brilliant, really. The old ‘eye for an
eye’ had never been so apt.

So why then, was it was a long time before he could
stop the word “hypocrite” from bouncing around in
his mind.

C H A P T E R 4

achel paced nervously outside the front
doors of Hollywell just after six p.m.,
wishing she hadn’t agreed to meet with

Damien Smythe.

She certainly wasn’t dressed for the occasion in a
simple pair of slim, form fitting black pants and soft
brown riding boots, topped by a loose off-the-
shoulder beige blouse.

I could have looked up his number online and
cancelled, she thought, running her hand through
her ebony strands nervously. As if she was going to
really call and cancel.

She’d spent the better part of the day considering
the somewhat odd meeting with him, like there was
something she was missing about the entire

encounter.  Her  gut  was  warning  her  that  perhaps
something  was  amiss  but  the  heat  in  her  loins  was
telling  her  that  maybe  she  was  going  to  get  an
opportunity  to  assuage  the  need  she’d  ignored  for
almost six months.

When was the last time I was caressed or kissed,
much less laid?

It was a daunting question but she shamefully
shoved it from her mind. This was business. She
wouldn’t sleep with the son of a potential client.

Potential is the operative word, isn’t it?

Gratefully, a black town car pulled to a stop before
her, forcing Rachel to stop the direction her
thoughts were heading.

Rich men are all bad news, she reminded herself.
There’s a reason you left that world behind.

The driver stepped out and nodded at her, a curt
smile on his face.

“Good evening, madam. I’m George.”

“Hey, George,” Rachel said with deliberate
casualness.

“I will be taking you to the restaurant to meet with
Mr. Smythe.”

Disappointment filled Rachel.

He really meant it when he said he’d send the car.
He’s not even here to meet me.

She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. After all, he
had been clear it was just a business meeting.

“Thanks.”

She shuffled forward as he opened the back door
for her and she slid inside, suddenly feeling terribly
embarrassed.

Keep your legs together and your head held high,
she told herself. She realized that was something
her father would say to her and it caused her to
shiver with disgust.

“Where is it we’re going?” she asked.

Not that I’m up to date with the five-star
establishments these days.

In fact, Rachel had never spent a great deal of time
knowing the New York high life, not when she had
always worked while she was in the city.

“Yeti’s. Do you know it?” George asked as he
steered the vehicle away from the curb, his eyes
meeting hers through the rear-view.

“No,” Rachel replied quickly. “I don’t know why I

even asked.”

She laughed shortly, realizing that her unease was
almost palpable.

Just stop talking and see where this goes, she
chided herself but by the time the car slid over the
Williamsburg Bridge, bringing them into the heart
of Manhattan, her palms were sweating.

It’s not too late to change your mind, she reasoned
but she didn’t open her mouth to instruct George to
take her home.

“This is it, ma’am,” George announced, stopping
before the valet in front of a non-descript black
building.

It looks new, Rachel mused irrelevantly as she
stepped out of the car. George waved the lurking
valet away and nodded toward the entrance.

“Mr. Smythe is expecting you.”

In a panic, she looked at the driver and helplessly at
her outfit.

“I’m  really  underdressed  for  this,”  she  muttered,
more  to  herself  than  him,  but  to  her  surprise,
George  smiled  warmly  at  her,  the  wrinkles  in  the
corner of his eyes creasing.

“You look lovely, Ms. Vaughan,” he assured her.

Oddly, the compliment gave her the modicum of
confidence she needed and with a deep sigh, she
ambled toward the door.

Inside, she was stunned to find the place empty.
Only a maître d’ stood at the front, apparently
waiting for her.

“Ah, good evening, Ms. Vaughan. Follow me,
please.”

With mounting confusion, Rachel made her way
into the eerily quiet restaurant, her heart beginning
to thud.

Is this a set-up? Am I about to be murdered or
something?

She knew the thought was ridiculous and when she
let go of her irrational fears, she saw that her
anxiety was really a shiver of excitement. Then her
eyes clashed with Damien Smythe’s.

The jolt of awareness burned through her, taking
her breath away. Instantly, moisture flooded her
core and her nipples tightened in anticipation.

What was it about this man, dammit!

After  a  moment  where  time  seemed  to  stand  still,
she  shook  herself  mentally  and  dropped  a
professional  mask  over  her  face.  She  saw  by  the

flare of awareness in his eyes though, that he had
caught her embarrassing moment.

Unlike her, he was freshly showered, his thick head
of  hair  brushed  neatly  back  to  show  every  line  of
his  perfect  features,  including  the  intense  eyes
which fixed on her face with too much awareness.
He  had  also  changed  since  she’d  seen  him.  His
black  jeans  hugging  the  lower  portion  of  his  body,
snuggly. He wore a dress shirt and blazer, no doubt
due to the distinct chill in the air this evening.

“You made it,” he said, rising as she approached.

“Of course,” Rachel replied, slightly perplexed by
the greeting. She extended a hand for him to shake
and he took it. Gone was the standoffishness she’d
sensed in him earlier and he offered her a smile.

“Please, sit,” he instructed her and the maître d’
pulled the chair out for her to be seated.

“Where is everyone?” she wanted to know, looking
around again with some awe. “I know it’s still early
but it is Friday night.”

“I closed the restaurant for our meeting,” Damien
explained, causing her eyes to widen in shock.

“You what?”

He shrugged and grinned at her and Rachel was

having a hard time reconciling this man with the
same aloof stranger who had come to the hospice
that afternoon.

Maybe  it  was  just  the  stress  of  being  around  so
much  death  that  made  him  seem  like  a  prick,  she
reasoned,  permitting  herself  to  warm  up  to  the
surroundings.

“I wanted to have a private conversation,” he
explained. “So I had the staff close the place so we
could talk.”

Rachel wasn’t sure if she was flattered or unnerved
by his confession.

“Do restaurants often close at your whim?” she
asked lightly, sitting back to study him with thinly-
veiled interest.

“Only the ones I own.”

Again, she was taken aback by the answer.

“I-I thought your business was technology,” she
said without thinking. Damien’s eyes lit up with
some amusement.

“Have you been reading up on me?” he asked
innocently and Rachel’s face flushed with
humiliation.

“No,” she lied but the denial was ridiculous to her

own ears.

“That’s all right,” Damien said softly, leaning across
the table to stare at her with intensity. “I read up on
you too.”

Defensiveness sparked through Rachel and she sat
back, her shoulders tense.

“Oh?” she asked with some anger. “And what did
you find?”

God,  I  really  need  to  change  my  name  if  I’m  still
being  stalked  by  the  rich  boys.  I  imagine  he’ll  be
less  smug  when  he  finds  out  I  have  nothing  to  do
with my father’s company.

“I know you’re the youngest director that
Hollywell has ever had,” Damien replied, again
catching her off guard. “I know you graduated top
of your class at NYU.”

Her face flushed as she realized that his research
was strictly professional.

Am I always going to have a chip on my shoulder
about being Carter Vaughan’s daughter? The man
came to you about his dying father and you turned
it into something ugly. Shame on you, Rachel!

“Why

did

you

bother

looking

into

background?” she asked weakly, unable to meet his

penetrating gaze.

“I demand the best care for my father,” Damien
replied evenly. “And that means doing my due
diligence.”

She looked up and nodded, contrition flooding her
face.

“Of course,” she mumbled. “You should know that
all the staff is screened heavily. They are subject to
random drug tests and there are security cameras
everywhere.”

“Lucky security guard,” Damien mused.

“Pardon?”

“I imagine he has a rather charmed life watching
you all day long, Ms. Vaughan.”

Their eyes locked and Rachel felt her cheeks tinge
crimson.

“We’ve  already  established  you  can  call  me
Rachel,”  she  murmured.  There  was  an  undeniable
attraction  between  them,  one  which  Rachel  knew
she wasn’t imagining now.

“Rachel,” he agreed. “Shall I order some wine for
us?”

She nodded, her body tingling in anticipation.

C H A P T E R 5

fter initially finding out from Damien that
his father had been diagnosed with
prostate cancer, but that he had not

revealed  that  diagnosis  to  his  children  for  quite
some time, Rachel began to get the impression that
his  father  was  a  very  proud  and  stubborn  man.
Unfortunately,  that  stubbornness  would  ultimately
cause  his  death.  According  to  Damien,  the  lack  of
early treatment had caused the cancer to follow its
natural  course  to  other  parts  of  his  body  and  had
ultimately  compromised  his  lymphatic  system
metastasising to his bones.

He  was  not  in  for  an  easy  time  for  his  last  days,
unfortunately,  and  Rachel’s  heart  went  out  to
Damien.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to  ask  for
emotional support from his sister and his father was

in no shape to help himself, let alone see his son
through this emotional rollercoaster.

Following  a  mouth-watering  veal  entree,  Rachel
found  her  reservations  about  Damien  dissipating
quickly.  Damien  confided  that  he  needed  a  break
from  the  deep  discussions  about  his  father  and
ordered them more wine. Their conversation turned
from  life  and  death  to  life  in  general  and  as  the
hours  ticked  innocuously  by,  Rachel  found  herself
feeling  more  and  more  comfortable,  both  from  the
wine and the company.

“So how long have you owned this restaurant?” she
asked,  as  the  hovering  waiter  poured  the  last  of  a
pinot  noir  bottle  into  her  glass.  Rachel  knew  the
vintage  was  stupidly  expensive  but  she  couldn’t
resist its delicate taste.

“About six months.”

“Branching out?” she asked, and Damien eyed her
with an enigmatic expression on his face.

“Achilles Technology is merely a name,” Damien
explained. “We don’t deal exclusively in the tech
field.”

“It’s an interesting name,” Rachel offered.
“Achilles.”

“It’s to remind me that everyone has a weakness.”

He smiled, and a slight shiver went through her.

“And what’s your weakness, Damien?” Rachel
asked somewhat brazenly, leaning back, but
meeting his dark eyes directly.

“I fear I have the same uncreative weakness as any
man.”

“And what would that be?” She asked, the light
warning in her mind slipping away with another sip
of wine.

“A beautiful, intelligent woman,” he said, reaching
unexpectedly for her hands. Rachel felt a thrill flow
through her body. Without tearing his eyes from her
face, Damien dismissed the waiter.

There was no doubt in Rachel’s mind what he
intended to do.

“I’m  sure  you  meet  lots  of  women  in  your  line  of
work,”  Rachel  said,  trying  to  keep  the  note  of
excitement  from  her  voice  as  Damien  rose  to  his
full height. Slowly, he sauntered around the table to
stand  before  her,  towering  over  her  with  an
undeniable desire in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t compare you to anyone else,” he said
gruffly. “You’re different, aren’t you, Rachel?”

“I like to think so,” she breathed, as he grasped her

hand and pulled her to her feet.

The soft background music seemed to come more
into focus as they embraced and held each other’s
gaze while dancing softly to its rhythm.

After what seemed like an eternity, his strong gaze
piercing her soul, Rachel felt like he had connected
to her, somehow. It was almost surreal, the sense of
bonding that passed between them. Rachel shook
herself mentally.

Damn, I think I could really fall for this guy.

The speed of the emotions alarmed her slightly, and
she gently placed her hands on his shoulders and
pulled back.

“I  should  probably  get  going  ...  it’s  late.  I  need  to
cover  for  one  of  my  staff  early  at  the  hospice
tomorrow  morning.”  Rachel  was  startled  by  how
husky her voice sounded to her own ears.

Damien  pulled  her  back  into  his  embrace,  before
bending  his  head  to  fuse  his  lips  with  hers.  A  sigh
escaped her mouth, gaining him access to touch her
tongue  with  his.  Like  an  electric  shock  to  her
system,  she  gasped,  allowing  the  kiss  to  deepen,
fully  intoxicating  her  more  than  the  sweet  wine
had.

His hand caressed her back, moving slowly down to

cup her buttock and draw her closer to him,
revealing the full extent of his desire.

He pulled his mouth away from hers, yet kept her
close to his body.

“We’ll save dessert for our next ... meeting ....” He
calmly suggested, despite the raging evidence of his
arousal for her.

“I  —  of  course  ...  our  next  meeting,”  Rachel  was
mortified  to  hear  herself  stumble  over  the  words.
She  cleared  her  throat  before  continuing,  “Given
the  advanced  nature  of  your  father’s  illness,  that
next encounter should happen fairly soon?”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, when does your shift end?”

“I should be home by one.” Tomorrow? Really?

She found it hard to believe he was going to call her
so soon. She struggled to not sound breathy, the
heady effect of that kiss still holding her in its grip.

“I’ll have George take you home,” Damien said,
pulling away to retrieve her coat. “He’ll be waiting
outside.”

She nodded, studying his too-attractive face. He
held out an arm for her to take and Rachel
accepted it as they wandered out of the building.

Outside, George had already pulled up the car and

waited by the backseat to let her in but he
discreetly kept his eyes averted outward as they
said goodnight to one another.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Rachel offered
awkwardly, looking down. “Your restaurant is truly
wonderful.”

“Thank you for coming to meet me, Rachel ... and
for hearing me out regarding my father.”

“Of  course,...we’ll  figure  this  out,”  she  said  again,
touching  his  cheek  gently,  before  turning  toward
the  town  car.  But  before  she  could  take  another
step,  Damien  pulled  her  back  into  his  arms  and
pressed his mouth to hers.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised gruffly, as the
door closed behind her, leaving Rachel to watch
him with skeptical eyes.

“Did you have a good time, Ms. Vaughan?” George
asked, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Yes, thanks, George.”

I did, didn’t I?

She  couldn’t  deny  that  she’d  had  a  great  time
chatting  with  Damien.  He  had  been  charming  and
witty,  two  qualities  she  hadn’t  found  with  the  rich
frat boys she’d known in her youth.

But boys grow up to be men, don’t they? Maybe I
was always too judgemental about the wealthy kids
I knew back then.

Rachel really didn’t have a gauge to know
anymore. The only wealthy people she dealt with
now were the ones dying in her care.

“Mr. Smythe is a good man,” George volunteered.

Rachel nodded at the driver. “He does seem that
way, doesn’t he?”

Why  would  someone  like  him  want  someone  like
me?  Was  it  only  for  the  sake  of  his  father,  or  was
there more at play here? Those two kisses and that
bulge in his jeans led her to believe that there was
definitely  some  attraction  –  or  was  that  just
wishful thinking on her part?

She  harshly  pushed  those  thoughts  away.  Her
concern  had  to  be  for  his  father  first,  not  her  own
needs, vocal as they were at times. She swore that
she’d  had  to  speak  sternly  with  her  girl  parts  a
dozen  times  this  evening.  It  seemed  that  just
looking into his arresting eyes was enough to wake
up her hibernating libido.

Damn, she was in trouble…

“Y

C H A P T E R 6

ou’re  paying  me  double  time  and  a
half  for  this,”  Chandra  told  him,
throwing  open  the  door  to  the  inner
office without knocking.

“You’re salaried,” he replied automatically. “But I
can put you back to working hourly if you want.”

“As if there’s much of a difference,” Chandra
chortled. “You still demand my life, basically.”

Damien didn’t respond, his mind elsewhere as he
continued to stare blankly at the computer screen
before him.

Chandra paused to study his face quietly.

“You’re distracted,” she commented, cocking her
head to the side. A second later, light filled her

face. “Oh! You got laid, didn’t you!”

Damien scowled.

Unfortunately,  no,  he  thought,  feeling  his  jaw
clench  at  his  own  frustration.  And  he  had  felt  that
frustration  all  fucking  night  long  –  explaining  his
mood this morning.

“Get Ms. Smythe on the line,” he said, more to
dismiss his secretary than because he wanted to
talk to his sister.

“It’s Saturday, doesn’t she have therapy in her new
group on Saturdays?”

Of course.

“You’re right,” he sighed. “I’ll call her later.”

“Seriously, why have you dragged me here on the
weekend?” Chandra wanted to know, her rosebud
mouth curling down into a sulky pout. “I have a life
too, you know?”

“Then  I  should  fire  you  for  breach  of  contract,”
Damien  intoned.  “I’m  fairly  sure  that  it  reads  that
you  are  forbidden  from  having  a  life  while  you
work for me.”

“It may as well,” she threw back at him. “All I do is
run around for you.”

Damien scowled at her.

“What’s more important to you,” he demanded.
“Your life…or me?” he pseudo-joked. “Look, if
you need to go, go.”

Chandra  just  stared  at  him  intently.  They  had
worked  together  long  enough,  that  although  their
relationship  was  unconventional  for  a  boss  and
assistant, she was usually very good at reading him.

“Seriously,” he said, “I’m not in the mood to argue
with you. I’ll find someone else to help me.”

Chandra looked at him closely, perhaps realizing
that they weren’t bantering, as was their norm. She
didn’t hesitate to share her feelings with him and he
gave back as good as he got.

“Sorry, boss. I didn’t realize you were being
completely serious.”

Damien eyed her balefully.

“Yes, I’m serious. I need you to do some more
research for me into Vaughan Industries.”

“That shit again?” Chandra sighed. “Come on.”

Damien’s eyes flashed dangerously but Chandra
didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Do I pay you to question me?” Damien growled,

trying to force a note of intimidation into his voice
but Chandra didn’t seem to give a shit. He clearly
gave her entirely too much leeway in this company.

“You pay me to keep you functioning properly,”
she retorted. “And fixating on a decades-old
vendetta is hardly the way to run a business.”

“Chandra—”

“Jesus Christ, Damien, they were kids. You aren’t
even old enough to remember what happened.”

“I  remember  exactly  what  happened,”  he  shot
back. And what he didn’t remember, his sister and
father  had  filled  in  for  him  in  the  days  after  the
incident.  “And  I  really  don’t  want  to  discuss  this
with  you.  You  had  no  business  digging  into  this  in
the first place.”

“Well, forgive me for not blindly following orders,
master,” Chandra snapped back sarcastically.

“Chandra, you’re really trying my patience. Get me
what I asked for. Especially focus on Rachel
Vaughan.”

Chandra’s mouth pursed, her grey eyes narrowing
suspiciously.

“What the hell does she have to do with anything?”
Chandra wanted to know. He lowered his eyes and

pretended to read the same screen he’d been
staring at for the hour since he’d arrived in the
office.

She’s not wrong. Rachel wasn’t the one who
destroyed my sister, and then tried to destroy my
father’s business when we were seeking justice.

But she was there! She laughed and taunted, just
like her father did when Col fell apart!

The  doubts  made  his  stomach  churn,  worse  than
ever  before.  He’d  had  a  much  better  time  than  he
expected to last night. He really hadn’t counted on
her  being  as  down-to-earth  and  real  as  she  had
been.  As  he’d  woven  his  lies  around  his  father’s
“cancer”  he  began  to  feel  more  and  more  guilt
ridden  by  it.  She  did  exactly  what  her  mandate
dictated  she  should  do,  understand  his  concerns,
empathize  with  how  he  “felt”  about  his  father
“dying”  and  offer  to  support  him  and  his  family
through this challenging time.

And after that ... that kiss, her passion ... his cock,
Jesus! He could have had her right there in the
restaurant, had common sense not prevailed. HER
common sense, mostly.

“You didn’t answer me,” Chandra sighed again.
“What does Rachel Vaughan have to do with
anything?”

“You know what? Forget I asked,” Damien
snapped. “Go home. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Damien, what are you doing?” Chandra asked, her
tone changing slightly to reveal a note of worry. “Is
this your dad’s idea?”

Defensiveness fused down his spine and he glared
at Chandra furiously.

“I know you think you have all the answers but you
don’t,” he spat. “And my family affairs are exactly
that—mine. Stop nosing around where you don’t
belong.”

Chandra was unflappable and she stared at him,
deadpan.

“Damien,  you  started  this  company  to  show  your
father that you didn’t need him. You built Achilles
through  your  own  sweat  and  blood.  Don’t  let  his
misguided  ways  drag  you  back  down  to  his  level
otherwise  you  might  as  well  dissolve  Achilles  into
Smythe Corp and call it a day.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing!” Chandra
barked back. “You’re fixating on something that
happened twenty fucking years ago! I thought you
agreed to let this go.”

Damien ground his teeth, knowing that the words
she spoke were true—to a point.

So  what  if  Dad  suggested  this  again?  It  doesn’t
mean  I’m  getting  sucked  back  into  his  clutches.
We’re  doing  this  for  justice.  This  is  about  family,
not business.

“Again, I don’t owe you an explanation. Get out if
you’re not going to help me.”

“I’m going,” Chandra agreed. “But not before you
tell me what you’ve done.”

“I haven’t done anything!” he lied, guilt showering
through him. “And whatever I do is none of your
concern.”

“Rachel Vaughan is younger than you,” Chandra
reminded him. “Maybe you don’t remember it like
you think you do. Maybe she doesn’t deserve to be
dragged into this vendetta that your father and
sister have brainwashed you about.”

“I  do  remember  what  happened!”  Damien  yelled,
slamming  his  fists  against  the  desk.  Chandra
jumped  at  the  unexpected  reaction.  “I  saw  my
sister  fall  apart.  I  saw  the  ambulance.  And  her…
body. I know what he cost her and I know what she
did because of him.”

“You can’t possibly know the whole truth – you

were a kid yourself!” Chandra insisted. “If you
speak to—”

“I’m not doing this with you again, Chandra. Just
get out so I can think.”

She held his gaze steadfastly, making no move to
leave.

Damien ignored her, not willing to discuss it further.

Chandra released a huge sigh and turned away.

“For  your  sake,  I  hope  you  know  what  you’re
doing,”  she  muttered.  There  was  no  note  of
confidence  in  her  voice.  “You’re  so  fucking  much
better than your father. Please don’t forget that.”

She left the office and Damien could only stare
after her silently, his mind whirling. He was so torn
but the plan was already in action.

Without giving himself any more time to think, he
reached for his cell phone and dialled out, checking
the time – she should still be at Hollywell.

“Rachel Vaughan,” she answered softly. Her honey-
laced voice filled him with an unwanted warmth
and an image of her full lips breezed through his
mind.

“Hi,” he said. “It’s Damien.”

“Hey!” She didn’t even try to hide the happiness in
her voice. “I guess you made it home all right last
night.”

“Of course. And George assured me you did too.”

“He’s a good driver,” Rachel chuckled but he could
hear the nervousness.

“Listen…I know it’s short notice but are you free
tonight? There’s a Jazz Festival in Central Park on
the Summer Stage. Is that something you’d be
interested in?”

“That sounds lovely!” There was a husky note to
her voice and before he knew what was happening,
there was an uncomfortable bulge forming inside
his boxers.

“I’ll send George for you around six ... we can grab
a bite after?”

“Sure ... that would be great …” She trailed off.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Not really,” Rachel rushed out. “I don’t want to
ruin a moment between us, but…”

“You can tell me. What is it?”

“Well…your father. We will need to discuss plans
for his care at some point soon.”

Damien chewed on the insides of his cheeks.

“Yes, of course,” he sighed, trying to find a way to
put her off. “I guess I was just trying to sweep all
the unpleasantness under the rug. We can’t really
do anything over the weekend, how about we enjoy
the night and go over my options on Monday.”

“I don’t mean to be blunt, Damien, he’s in stage
four cancer… we’ll want him to be settled and
comfortable as soon as we possibly can.”

“Yes.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m sorry. I’ve upset you now,” she apologized.
Sometimes she was too pragmatic. It likely came
from having to help with this planning stage for so
many families.

“Not at all,” he replied. “We’ll go over the
legalities involved next week.”

“Of  course.  So…I  had  trouble  sleeping  last  night
...”  Rachel  confided  suddenly.  “I’m  not  sure  why
you  have  this  effect  on  me,”  she  confessed  softly
and  his  shaft  instantly  responded  to  the  words.
Subconsciously,  his  wide  palm  rubbed  against  the
material of his black dress pants and the heat of his
crotch made him sigh.

No one said this had to be boring, he reasoned with
himself, trying to silence the guilt echoing through

his ears.

“Trust me, I know exactly what you mean,” he
growled back. “I’ll see you tonight. We can discuss
the effects we have on each other then.” He
couldn’t stop the smile from entering his voice.

“Can’t wait,” she signed off and Damien dropped
the phone back on the desk, his hand gripping his
hardened shaft, beneath the desk. Chandra stormed
back in then, so he casually moved his fist onto the
top of the desk, glad that he hadn’t been standing.

“And  what  do  you  hope  to  achieve  by  this?”
Chandra  asked  as  though  she  hadn’t  promised  to
leave.  “What  good  will  it  do  if  you  infiltrate  their
lives?”

Damien glowered.

“After everything you dug up on the issue, you
really need to ask me that?” he demanded, but
Chandra didn’t back down.

“I’m  wondering  if  you  even  know  what  it  is  you
think  you’re  doing,”  she  shot  back,  as  she  slid  a
folder  onto  his  desk.  Damien’s  mouth  became  a
hard line and the arousal which had filled his body
evaporated as he remembered exactly what was at
stake.

“Well?” Chandra prompted.

C H A P T E R 7

he night was colder than she had
anticipated when she slipped into the

car but to Rachel’s surprise, Damien was sitting
inside waiting for her.

“You’re here!” she cried, surprised to see him. “I
thought I’d be meeting you at the park.”

He smiled, his eyes raking over her beautiful face
appreciatively.

“It’s not a proper date if I don’t pick you up at your
door — you look amazing,” he replied smoothly
and Rachel shivered with pleasure. “I thought we
could take in some of the festival then head to my
place for a bite to eat.”

His scent was taking over her senses, causing little
tingles of awareness to sizzle through her. Without

warning, he leaned in and captured her lips in a soft
kiss, his teeth gently nipping her lower lip teasingly.

“I haven’t been able to get you off my mind all
day,” he confessed, his breath hot against her face.

“I feel a bit like a fraud,” Rachel confessed quietly,
as George pulled the car out into traffic.

“Why?” Damien responded with a frown on his
face. His eyes seemed to pin her.

“You  came  to  me  for  help  with  your  dad.  To  be
completely  honest,  I  feel  as  though  I’m  taking
advantage  of  the  situation  to  spend  time  with  you.
We just seemed to… connect last night.”

Rachel watched as a number of fleeting emotions
seemed to come over his face, before he smiled at
her, calling up that ever charming dimple.

“You  are  helping  me  with  Dad,  but  like  I  said
earlier, there’s little to be done right now. I’ll have
to continue working on him. He’s as stubborn as a
mule and it’ll be a battle to get him into Hollywell.
As  much  as  I  hope  we  can  have  him  in  your  care
before  it’s  too  late,  I  have  little  doubt  I’ll  be
jumping  through  several  of  his  hoops,  before
everything is settled.”

He paused and Rachel got the impression he
wanted to say something else. His eyes glanced

sideways  before  he  captured  her  gaze  again  and
continued,  “we  did  connect  last  night,  and  there’s
no  reason  for  us  not  to  see  exactly  where  that
connection will take us, right? It doesn’t make you
a fraud.”

Rachel

sat

back,

Damien,

and

contemplated  his  words  as  the  streets  rolled  by.
George’s driving was flawless and before she knew
it,  they  were  pulling  up  to  the  park.  Music  had
already  filled  the  air,  as  they  made  their  way  to
Summer Stage.

Rachel’s taste in music was eclectic and she found
herself thoroughly enjoying the evening in
Damien’s company. After a few hours he suggested
they head over to his home for dinner, and despite
any misgivings she may have had about how
quickly things were moving, she agreed.

“ O

, jeez, you should be head chef in your own

restaurant! That meal was delicious.” Rachel raved
sincerely, noting that Damien seemed pleased by
her praise.

“I don’t know about that, but I do like to
experiment a bit with flavors.” He responded,
intensely capturing her gaze with his own.

“That is decadently obvious,” she replied, reaching
for her glass of wine and trying to lighten the mood.
“I’d need to buy a whole new wardrobe, if I had a
meal like that every day. That or spend way more
time working out than I do now.”

She  watched  in  surprise  as  his  gaze  seemed  to
intensify  more  still.  “I  can  think  of  several  ways
which  can  make  you  want  to  work  out  regularly.
Ways  that  are  quite  addictive,  actually  —
exhilarating, in fact.”

He  stood  up  and  stepped  around  the  table,  taking
the glass from her hand and setting it down, before
pulling  her  up  from  her  chair.  One  hand  slipped
behind  her  neck,  beneath  her  hair,  applying  slight
pressure  and  pulling  her  closer  to  him.  As  she  had
the night before, she relished in the evidence of his
response  to  her.  She  drew  in  her  breath  when  she
felt his other hand reaching up to caress her breast
through  the  thin  material  of  her  dress.  The  fire  in
his  eyes  was  unmistakable,  as  his  lips  moved  to
crush hers.

Is this happening? Right here in his kitchen?

Instead of alarming her, the notion only fueled the
heat already surging through her body and a gush of
warmth spread inside her silk panties.

She was glad she had taken care to don a matching

set. As Damien reached behind her to unzip her
dress, she realized that he wasn’t paying any
attention to her underwear at all.

Any  reservations  she  may  have  had  were  quickly
replaced  with  intense  heat  when  Damien  leaned
down  and  tongued  her  nipple,  right  through  the
fabric  of  her  bra.  His  strong  fingers  tugged  and
pulled  at  her  nipples  through  the  lacy  material  of
her  bra,  keeping  them  taut.  As  the  lace  intensified
the  reaction  in  her  sensitive  nubs,  she  gasped,  her
head dropping back and her back arching to thrust
her breasts forward, begging for more attention. His
mouth  enveloped  her  sensitive  bud,  drawing  on  it
deeply  until  she  thought  her  knees  would  collapse
beneath her.

The  wetness  of  his  tongue  against  the  lace,  as  he
suckled  her  nipple  deeply  through  it,  sent  shivers
through  Rachel’s  body.  She  allowed  his  hands  to
hover  over  her  dress,  barely  hanging  on  her  hips
and  then  shifting  it  down  with  her  panties
seamlessly until she was half-naked before him.

“Have you ever been taken in the kitchen before?”
he  purred,  standing,  his  mouth  moving  up  the
prickled  flesh  of  her  cleavage  to  breathe  into  her
ear.  Before  she  could  respond,  a  finger  dipped
inside her, causing Rachel to moan with pleasure.

“Hm? Have you?” he insisted, demanding an

answer.

“No,” she gasped out as his finger slipped in and
out of her already soaked core to tease the
throbbing nub of her clit.

“Good,” he said before biting on the lobe of her
ear. Rachel cried out as two of his fingers entered
her, Damien’s long thrusts making her gush against
him.

“So wet, so responsive, Rachel Vaughan,” he
sighed. “You make me want to fuck you raw.”

Each word he spoke made her hotter, and passion
spread like wildfire through her veins.

This is surreal, she thought but she didn’t stop him
from continuing to drive his long fingers inside her
until she felt the culmination of an orgasm brewing.

“Please,” she begged, wanting to find her release
with him inside of her. “Damien…I need you. I
need your cock – now.”

He  growled  in  her  ear,  and  the  hard  cock  that
currently  pressed  against  her  body  jerked  at  her
words.  He  raised  his  head  and  stared  at  her  with
penetrating  eyes,  the  fire  burning  in  his  gaze
scorching a trail straight to her core.

“Are you trying to rush me, princess?” he

whispered into her ear. “Maybe you should be
careful what you wish for,” he warned darkly in his
silky voice.

Smoothly, he spun her around, so she was facing
the back of the couch just steps away from the
dining table. Damien spread her legs wide, bending
Rachel at the hips to expose her fully.

He caressed her ass, before landing a crisp slap on
her cheek. Rachel’s cry of pleasure was muffled
against the couch cushion. She knew there would
be a handprint on her cheek later but somehow that
only aroused her more.

The hardness of his head brushed against the
soaked spot between her ass and longing pussy. The
weight of his body pinned her against the couch, a
hand reaching up to encircle her neck gently.

“Are  you  ready  for  me?”  he  asked,  but  she  didn’t
really  need  to  answer.  The  desperate  moan  that
escaped  her  was  answer  enough  –  not  to  mention
that her ass had a mind of its own and was pushing
back against him, almost daring him to plunge deep.

He filled her roughly, fully, stealing the breath from
Rachel’s lungs and she cried out with satisfaction as
his girth stretched her completely.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned as the walls of her pussy

sucked around his shaft. She threw her head back,
needing to make contact with him. She felt like she
had been shot from a cannon, or like she was free-
falling.  Never  had  passion  been  so  strong,  never
had  she  lost  all  sense  of  herself  as  her  body
threatened  to  fly  apart.  The  sensations  were  so
strong  that  she  struggled  to  catch  her  breath,  but
between  his  deep,  merciless  thrusts,  and  his  hand
still circling her neck, it was nearly impossible.

She bucked backward, the sensation of losing
control driving her higher than she’d ever known.

When she was sure she might pass out, he changed
his  angle  slightly  and  his  cock  hit  a  special  spot
inside.  At  the  same  time,  his  other  hand  came
around  and  grasped  her  nipple  firmly,  tugging
sensuously.

All thought was lost. Her orgasm hit her like a tidal
wave. It was like nothing she’d ever known, the
release of her juices flowing against his throbbing
cock.

“That’s it, princess,” Damien gasped. “Come for
me.”

A  sheen  of  perspiration  covered  both  of  their
bodies.  He  drove  her  higher  into  a  pleasure  that
only  built  larger  and  more  cataclysmic  with  every
thrust.  A  thrilling  pleasure  stole  through  her,  a

pleasure that bordered on pain, bordered on
rapture.

His voice was strained, his own breaths escaping in
rasps. Groans of pleasure could be heard as he
continued to thrust his shaft into her.

His orgasm exploded in a wave of such intense
satisfaction that Damien pulled back, a shock wave
of awareness hitting him as his climax continued to
tear through him. A guttural noise reverberated
from his lips as his body refused to release hers.

Rachel  quivered,  her  legs  not  willing  to  support
herself  much  longer.  She  backed  her  ass  against
him,  squeezing  herself  around  his  huge  member  as
if to squeeze every drop of pleasure she could from
him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, slowly withdrawing from her
with a reluctance that she could feel clearly, despite
the headiness of the wine and satisfaction coursing
through her veins.

It took a greater effort than she imagined to turn
around and face him, her knees still threatening to
buckle.

“I bet you’ve done this countless times before,” she
said

nonchalantly,

trying

lighten

the

awkwardness of the situation. But the thought of

just being another conquest for him filled her with
shame.

Damien chuckled.

“No. Not countless, and only with women I really
like,” he replied, running his thumb along her cheek
as he tried to catch her eye.

She shifted away from him, not willing to let him
see the emotions that were running through her.

He reached to pull his now-wrinkled pants over his
hips.

She knew she should follow suit and get dressed
too, but she couldn’t muster the energy to move
yet.

“You okay?” Damien asked, eyeing her closely.
“Oh, I see. You want to move this to my bed?”

He was teasing her but embarrassment flooded her,
even though she’d been fully on board with what
they’d done.

“Hey, look at me,” Damien ordered her softly. He
cupped her face and tilted her head up to meet his
piercing gaze. “I was just teasing you.”

“I know,” she agreed quickly. “I’m just not used to
doing things like this. And you’re so – not easy to
handle,” she struggled to explain. Then she glanced

up into his eyes, meeting his gaze for the first time.

She saw instantly when he realized what she wasn’t
saying. That she was really into him – and it
freaked her out.

She  had  vowed  to  herself  a  long  time  ago  that  she
would never let anyone mean more to her than she
herself  did.  To  that  end,  she  had  realized  that  end
result  was  that  she  never  actually  let  anyone  into
her walls.

But she had never experienced a moment like that
before, a touching of souls almost. It had rocked
her – in more ways than one. And not all good. She
suddenly felt the desire to run, to protect her heart.

Dammit! She suddenly realized she was still naked.
She glanced over longingly at her dress, not sure if
her  legs  would  hold  her  up  all  the  way  over  there.
Taking  pity  on  her,  Damien  reached  over  and
grabbed  her  dress,  sliding  if  over  her  head  and
brushing  it  down  over  her  body.  The  soft  material
brushed over her ultra sensitive nipples and caused
her to draw in her breath.

“What  is  it?”  Damien  asked,  concern  in  his  voice.
Her eyes trailed over him hotly as she took in every
muscle  of  his  toned  stomach.  He  caught  the  look
that  flared  in  her  eyes,  and  his  cock  twitched
instantly. He pulled her against him for another kiss.

She melted into him, her response causing his own
desire to spike again.

“What the fuck have you done to me?” he
demanded quietly, without malice. He swept her up
in his arms, carrying her to his bed, as he had
jokingly suggested moments before. The feel of his
arms cradling her that short distance was enough to
make Rachel ask herself ...

What the fuck are you doing to me, Damien
Smythe?

C H A P T E R 8

amien

opened

his

eyes

slowly,

awareness crashing over him as he
thought of the night before. Dinner ...

last  night  ...  then  that  stunning  dessert  ...  followed
by  a  midnight  snack  he  would  not  soon  forget.  He
hadn’t  been  as  turned  on  by  a  woman  for  a  good
long  time  and  he  wasn’t  thrilled  that  he’d  allowed
himself to be turned on by this particular woman.

And it wasn’t just that he had been turned on.

His first orgasm with her had thundered through
him with a soul-wrenching realization. He wasn’t
feeling vengeful when he fucked her.

Quite the opposite.

He had felt…connected.

Deeply.

He was so fucked.

He glanced down at the gorgeous dark-haired vixen
in  his  bed.  The  sex  had  been  part  of  his  plan  last
night,  but  her  reaction,  that  was  something  he  had
not  planned  on.  Rachel  Vaughan  had  been  so
willing, so open and trusting of his touch. And she
had been so passionate — the magnetism between
them was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

That’s because you hate her. Angry sex is the best
kind, they say, he tried to reason.

The problem, of course, was that he was in no way
feeling anger towards her, as he took her on his
couch and again in his bed last night. And the fact
that his shaft was even now hardening had his head
throbbing even more as he realized he wanted to
drive into her heat again.

Alarm bells were going off ... his very real
attraction to her could not be a part of this plan! He
needed to come away from this scheme completely
unscathed and unaffected by her.

He silently slipped out of his bed, careful not
disturb the naked beauty. He needed a long shower
to clear his head and to wash away this effect she
was having on him.

He was relieved and somewhat alarmed when he
returned to his bedroom to find his bed empty.

Had she left in the time it took him to shower?

He heard noises coming from his kitchen and
followed the sound, securing the towel around his
waist.

“What  are  you  doing?”  he  asked  loudly,  catching
Rachel  off  guard.  She  was  dressed  in  the  clothes
she had worn last night, and she’d been busy while
he  was  in  the  shower.  The  dining  room  had  been
cleared  of  the  dishes  from  the  night  before,  the
dishwasher  neatly  filled  and  in  the  sink  were  the
cleaned pots he’d used to prepare their meal.

“I didn’t want to leave you to clean up from dinner
... I was just going to make some coffee, but
couldn’t find it.” She rambled nervously, trying to
look anywhere but at him.

Hmmm ... I seem to have the same effect on her as
she does on me. That should help me to get back to
the task at hand.

“I’ll get it,” Damien moved into the kitchen,
purposely crowding her space, smirking at how she
quickly moved to the other side of the island, again
looking anywhere but at him, as he retrieved the
coffee and some mugs.

“Oh ...” He heard her say. “I assume this is your
sister?”

Shit! He hadn’t thought of the pictures he had in
the living room of his open concept condo.

There was a picture of him and Collette at
Christmas a couple years ago.

“You’re  right  –  she  does  look  happy,”  Rachel
observed,  innocently.  She  seemed  to  scrutinize  the
picture,  a  bit  longer,  and  Damien  wondered  if  she
recognized Collette? In the picture, his sister had a
slightly  vacant  look  in  her  eyes,  but  a  wide  smile
nonetheless. It had been a good day for her.

He hoped to god that Rachel didn’t recognize her.
That would really mess up the plan!

The only thing in his favor was that Collette had
changed a great deal in the twenty years that had
passed since she had dated Rachel’s brother.

Her hair was cropped short now, and she had lost so
much weight. Not that she had ever been heavy, but
she had been a healthy, curvy girl in her teens.

“Yes,” he said curtly. “Her happiness was a long
time coming and very hard earned. I’d like to make
sure it stays that way.”

His tone elicited a look of surprise in Rachel, as

though she couldn’t understand his angry reaction
to her comment.

“I – of course you would. Actually, you remind me
of my brother ...” Rachel offered, conversationally.

“Really,” he sneered. “I sincerely doubt that.” He
shot back, without checking his tone.

Again, Rachel was taken aback by his tone, rushing
to try to explain.

“I only meant you are as protective of your sister as
my  brother  has  been  of  me,  all  my  life  ...”  She
paused, her eyes looking at him, as though now on
alert,  before  she  continued.  “It  will  no  doubt  be
difficult  for  both  of  you  to  deal  with  your  father’s
illness,  Damien.  As  much  as  you  want  to  protect
her,  you’ll  need  her  support  as  much  as  she  needs
yours in this. I will do my very best with Hollywell
Hospice to make your father’s transition as easy as
possible for all of you.”

Damien breathed a slight sigh of relief and tamped
down  the  rising  feeling  of  guilt  in  his  gut.  Rachel
hadn’t  seemed  to  recognize  Collette  and  she
seemed to think his odd reaction to being compared
to  her  swine  of  a  brother,  had  been  related  to  his
father. Rachel didn’t seem to make any connections
and  he  had  to  make  sure  she  didn’t  have  any
further chance to.

“I’ll  have  George  take  you  home.  I  need  to  get  to
work  for  a  few  hours  today,  despite  it  being
Sunday.” It was a blatant lie, but he didn’t want to
risk  Rachel  finding  anything  else  out  in  his  home,
that  would  point  to  his  deception  with  her.  He
needed her out.

Besides, he really needed to put some distance
between them before he fell…harder for her?

Damn!

Maybe  he  should  just  abort  this  plan  of  his.  Every
time  he  felt  firm  in  his  resolve  to  get  his  revenge,
Rachel  showed  him  a  side  of  herself  that  he  never
thought could exist in a Vaughan.

Sensitivity? Caring??

“Oh, of course ... I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
She said quickly, but he could tell he had hurt her
feelings.

Why the hell did that bother him?

Damien rang George and escorted Rachel down to
the street where the car waited.

“I can expect to hear from you, later this week,
then?” Rachel asked him, her voice thin and
uncertain.

“With regards to your father ...” She prompted him,

C H A P T E R 9

hat were you expecting ... morning
snuggles? You just screwed a guy

you met two days ago. Obviously this was a one-
night stand. No wonder he’s acting strangely.

She  couldn’t  bring  herself  to  regret  it,  despite  the
misgivings  and  alarm  bells  she  was  sensing  this
morning.  She  could  still  feel  the  throb  of  his  cock
inside  of  her.  And  she  could  not  believe  how  hot
last night had been ... intense ... surreal ... amazing,
really.

Confusion flowed freely through Rachel – as good
as last night was, something about this morning was
disturbing her. He’d seemed cold, almost distant.

He said he had to go to work. You’re being
oversensitive.

She wondered why she cared so much.

You’re confusing intense sex with real feelings.

She needed to go home and get her head on right. It
really wasn’t like her to be so cynical but she
couldn’t shake the feeling that she and Damien had
parted this morning on a very uncomfortable note.

And it had seemed as though she had to remind him
about making arrangements for his father.

Once that was done and his father had passed on,
he’s going to forget I ever existed. And that’s fine.
I’m a big girl.

“Good morning, Ms. Vaughan,” George said, sliding
into the driver’s seat.

“Hello, George.”

As embarrassed as she should probably have felt
staying overnight with Damien, she found herself
going over the last few days.

She  hated  that  she  was  spending  so  much  time
considering  the  implications  of  his  actions  this
morning.  So  what  if  last  night  ended  up  being  a
one-off. She was a big girl. She could handle it.

C H A P T E R 1 0

achel was surprised when she picked up
the ringing phone on Wednesday
afternoon and heard Damien’s voice on

the other end. She was just finishing the last of the
charting  she  had  to  do  on  her  patients  and  was
ready  to  call  it  a  day.  Rachel  had  pretty  much
convinced  herself  Damien  had  decided  to  go
elsewhere  to  place  his  father,  given  the  intimate
turn their short time knowing each other had taken,
and then the fact that she hadn’t heard from him.

“Hi, Rachel ...”

“Damien? I wasn’t sure I’d be hearing from you,”
she commented professionally.

“I had some unexpected business come up out of
town and only returned home late last night.” He

explained.  “I  was  hoping  I  could  pick  you  up  at
Hollywell  and  we  could  grab  some  Thai  takeout?
We  could  take  it  back  to  your  place  so  you
wouldn’t have to drive home later, if that works for
you.  I  need  to  get  some  plans  in  place  for  my
father.  I’m  concerned  his  health  could  be  taking
another turn.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that ... Yes, of course we
can  discuss  your  options  moving  forward.”  Her
tone  had  softened  on  hearing  news  of  his  father’s
health. She was torn by the emotions that evoked in
her  and  by  the  fact  that  her  body  had  reacted
instantaneously  to  the  deep  timbre  of  his  voice.
Despite knowing that her place would likely not be
the  best  place  for  this  discussion,  she  simply
couldn’t refuse him.

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

ACHEL

COULDN

’

P REVENT

the growl her stomach

made, when she entered Damien’s car an hour later.
He  had  stopped  to  get  the  food  first  and  she
realized  she  hadn’t  really  eaten  much  in  the  last
few days and the savory smells were revealing her
hunger  ...  upon  looking  at  Damien’s  casual  dress
and unruly curls, she was ravenous for a few things,

truth be told.

“Wow ... hungry?” He glanced at her and grinned,
after hearing her stomach rumbling loudly.

“Me too, actually.” He leaned forward and claimed
her lips, the rush of passion going straight from her
mouth to her core.

Food suddenly didn’t seem to be first on her list of
wants, after that interaction.

“We can warm this up later, right?” she asked
suggestively, trailing her hand down his chest and
gripping the rigid length of his cock that was trying
to surge straight out of his pants. “I’ve got a bottle
of wine.”

What the hell is wrong with you, Rachel?
Professional, remember?

And try to keep your legs closed this time!

“Later  would  be  great,”  he  murmured,  reaching
toward  her  for  another  deep  kiss.  Her  good
intentions  flew  straight  out  the  window  as  feelings
of heat slid down her spine.

His hand found the hem of her dress, snaking
upward to caress her inner thigh briefly, not
surprised to find her damp in anticipation.

“Is this all for me?” he asked, delving a finger

between the silk of her panties and the slick heat of
her crotch.

“You should stop,” she breathed haltingly, at least
making a valiant attempt to be professional. “At
least until we get to my place.”

There, I tried. Now I can enjoy, right?

Rachel pushed forward in her seat and sighed,
closing her eyes to embrace the sensation of his
nimble fingers sinking deep within her core.

“Damn,” she whispered. “You’re going right in for
the jugular.”

“Mm  ...  I  suppose  we  should  wait  until  we  get  to
your place.” He laughed, pulling away from her and
placing  those  dangerous  hands  on  his  steering
wheel,  while  throwing  a  wicked  sideways  grin  her
way.

She groaned in mock agony. “You’re killing me,
you know that?”

ACHEL

DIDN

’

EVEN

WAIT

for the elevator doors to

close. She didn’t want the spell between them
broken and she pinned him ruthlessly against the
far wall, tongue jutting out to sample the lines of his

luscious lips.

By the time the elevator stopped on the sixth floor,
Rachel had managed to unbutton both his shirt and
pants, his belt unhooked as he almost chased her
down the hall.

Again, they paused in front of the door, Damien
spinning her around to pin her against her door.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on by
someone,” he growled. She could hear the sincerity
in his tone and as if he’d flipped a switch, she felt
the rush of juice between her legs.

“Let me unlock the door,” she laughed but he made
no move to release her, his fingers clinging to her
upper thigh as he slid between her legs, blocked by
the clinging silk of her long dress.

“You better hurry,” he breathed. “I wouldn’t want
to stab a hole in this pretty dress of yours.”

With  a  final  kiss,  she  managed  to  fumble  her  keys
out  of  her  purse  and  enter  the  front  hallway.  The
door slammed behind them and Damien was pulling
her  dress  up  and  over  her  head,  and  then  pressing
her nearly naked frame up against his own.

One hand seized her perfectly sculpted ass, bringing
Rachel’s legs up against Damien’s waist. His index
finger dug beneath the lace of her panties to

explore her weeping cleft.

“You’re so wet for me,” he groaned, striding further
into the apartment with her draped over him as if
she weighed nothing more than a scarf.

His  kisses  rained  over  her  body,  each  one  hotter
than the last until he finally found his way into her
bedroom,  dropping  her  unceremoniously  onto  the
bed,  but  not  before  unclasping  her  bra  to  release
her breasts.

He  draped  her  legs  over  his  shoulders,  wanting  to
seat  himself  as  deeply  as  possible  in  her  hot
crevice,  when  he  was  ready.  His  hands  embraced
her swollen breasts, fingers teasing the soft skin of
her  erect  nipples  and  his  tongue  began  to  explore
the drenched crevice between her thighs.

Rachel  bucked  upward,  her  clit  filling  his  mouth
and  he  latched  on  instantly,  sucking  her  back  in
long,  deep  laps.  Her  sweet  sigh  was  music  to  his
ears and she began to writhe beneath him.

The vibrations of his moans brought her instantly to
the heights he wanted, and with a loud cry, she
released against his smooth face, spraying his chin
with her orgasm.

“Well,” he purred, looking up in surprise. “Missed
me much?” he asked with proud satisfaction. This

woman could seriously wrap him around her finger
if she knew how strongly she affected him.

“Wow,” she groaned, her body limp and blissful.
“Just. Wow.”

He dropped his head again, determined to make her
go another round. Rachel realized she’d been
wanting him nonstop since their first night together.

Fuck. This is too good.

His hands scooped under her ass to raise her body
higher against him. He quickly forced her body into
that place again, teetering on the edge of orgasm,
but this time, he wasn’t letting her go over.

“Please,” she cried. “I need you inside me again,
deep and rough ... Fuck me hard, Damien” she
begged him, her eyes locked onto him. “Now.”

He raised his body, positioning himself to enter her.
Suddenly, Rachel seemed to shake herself, her eyes
going wide with horror.

“Oh my god! Condom! We need a condom…” At
once the incredulity hit both of them.

Holy shit. He hadn’t used a condom the other night.
He never forgot to protect himself.

Never.

How had he missed that? Especially with Rachel??

It wasn’t like sleeping with her was part of a normal
relationship, for Christ’s sake.

It was a revenge plot.

She was a revenge plot.

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed. “I’ve got a condom,
right here.”

He reached down into his pants pocket and pulled
the condom out of his wallet. “But maybe we
should just stop…” he trailed off, not sure what the
right move was.

“Oh,  my  god,  you  can’t  stop  now,”  Rachel
whispered,  her  voice  desperate  with  need.  “Look,
we can’t do anything about last time now, right? So
as  long  as  we’re  careful  now…we  can  maybe…”
she  looked  at  him  hopefully,  her  gaze  full  of
unfulfilled desire.

He  thought  back  to  the  state  he  had  left  her  in
before  her  realization  had  overturned  them  both.
He’d  been  enjoying  hearing  her  cries  of  need,  and
the  way  he  seemed  to  know  just  what  her  body
needed even before she did.

She was so responsive to him, and he’d taken her
right to the brink of orgasm twice, before backing

off and teasing her beautiful body for a while, and
then taking her back up again. When she had
begged him to fuck her, the desire to sink into her,
hard, had been stronger than anything he’d ever felt
before.

He leaned over her, pulling her sweet body back
beneath his. “Anything you need, baby, I’ve got
you.”

He  trailed  kisses  over  her  exposed  neck  and
collarbone,  slowly  trailing  down  to  her  sensitive
breasts.  She  had  the  most  beautiful  breasts  he’d
ever seen, and he couldn’t get enough of watching
her  nipples  pucker  even  when  he  just  stared  at
them.

Finally,  he  lowered  his  mouth  and  blew  on  one
strawberry  tip,  watching  it  ruche  even  more,
puckering  tightly  under  his  gaze.  He  licked  the  tip
of  it,  and  smiled  when  Rachel  groaned,  her  breast
rising even further to try to get his mouth to accept
the offering.

He finally took pity on her pretty pleas and sucked
hard on her nipple, using his teeth a bit, just to hear
her cry out again.

When she was as desperate as she had been before,
he slipped the condom on and positioned himself at
her core.

“Please, Damien…now.”

“Like this?” he asked, the head of his pulsating
shaft plunging into her with one solid thrust.

“Oh, my God ... yes ... more!” she cried. She hadn’t
realized  how  sensitive  she  still  was  from  all  the
“activity”  they’d  had  lately,  but  it  hurt  so  good  as
she  suctioned  him  in,  the  walls  of  her  pussy
drawing  him  in  deeply  until  he  gasped  at  the
feeling.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, his jaw clenching
hard. “You are … so fucking ...”

He couldn’t finish his thought, a primal instinct in
him taking over. He thrust into her over and over,
each plunge filling her with more pleasure.

“I-I’m  coming,”  she  whimpered,  the  moan
becoming  a  hoarse  scream  as  she  exploded  into
pieces.  Her  nails  dug  into  his  naked  buttocks,
clawing  at  him,  drawing  him  closer  until  he,  too,
was cursing and climaxing almost violently.

“Shit, Rachel. You’re killing me.”

He felt the wave travel down through his spine,
grab his sac in a vice of pleasure, and explode out
of him, with wave after wave of ecstasy crashing
through him.

“FUCK!” he growled. “Fuck me!”

Her ankles locked around him, not wanting to let
him separate as she savored the moment between
them.

His  release  seemed  to  go  on  forever  and  she
reveled  in  the  feeling  of  his  body  spasming,  her
own heartbeat synching to his. At last his forehead
came  down  and  rested  on  hers  lightly,  the  intense,
heated  look  in  his  eyes  burning  her  up  all  over
again.

“Damn,” he finally managed to say, kissing the tip
of her nose playfully. “You have a golden pussy,
you know that?”

“I’d say it’s red now,” she teased breathlessly.

He propped himself up on a hand to peer at her
face. His expression was so tender it almost brought
tears to her eyes.

“I want to take you somewhere next week. Can
you get a couple days off from work?” he asked her
suddenly.

FEW

weeks passed in a blur of passion

and laughter.

They  had  spent  every  spare  moment  together.
Rachel  was  hesitant  at  first,  both  because  of  her
professional  concerns,  but  also  because  she  was
scared – scared of her quickly growing attachment
to the man, and of the depth of her feelings for him.

How could anyone become so important so fast? Is
this what love starts out as?

He had taken her to a cabin that sat on the banks of
a  gurgling  river  just  outside  of  the  small  town  of
Flat’s  Creek.  He  told  her  about  having  a  horrible
fight with his father when he was eighteen and just
jumping  into  his  car  and  driving  away,  almost
desperate to get as far from his family as he could.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever come back.

But then his car had broken down a few miles away
from  the  town.  The  walk  into  town  had  been
scorching, and when he heard the sound of a river
nearby,  he  left  the  paved  road  and  made  his  way
into  the  woods  to  try  to  find  some  relief  from  his
thirst.

He’d stumbled upon the quaint cabin shortly after.
It had been empty, and he’d sat on the porch
overlooking the stream for hours. For some reason,
the cabin soothed him, brought peace when he was
feeling anything but calm.

As soon as he’d made enough money, he bought the

cabin.

No  one  else  knew  about  it,  and  no  one  else  had
ever  been  there  with  him.  The  poignancy  of  the
place  drew  Rachel  too,  there  was  some  quality
about  it  that  almost  seemed  healing.  He  told  her
that  when  his  father  became  unbearably  difficult,
he’d go there, just to get grounded again.

They visited museums and sat for hours on the
window seat inside Rachel’s favorite library. There,
they’d laugh and talk about everything from the
classics, to Calvin & Hobbes comics.

Flashes  of  her  promise  to  her  brother  on  that  long
ago  day  would  come  to  her  out  of  the  blue  every
now  and  then.  She  had  become  so  used  to
protecting her heart and her sense of independence,
that  it  was  hard  for  her  to  let  Damien  inside.  She
still  hadn’t  told  him  who  her  father  was,  but  he
knew  so  much  more  about  her  than  anyone  else
she’d  ever  known  since  moving  away  from  her
childhood home.

Damien was starting to take those protective walls
down – slowly at first, but faster with every day
that passed.

She just felt safe with him. She couldn’t really
explain it. He always put her needs first, and he
was so damned protective of her too.

“I

C H A P T E R 1 1

’m glad you called me today,”
Rachel confessed. “I wasn’t sure
you would after the other day.”

Rachel  had  felt  like  there  had  been  something
bothering  Damien  for  the  last  week  or  so.  She
couldn’t  put  her  finger  on  it,  but  it  seemed  like  it
was more than the problems with his father, which,
according to him, were slowly getting resolved.

Every now and then he seemed distant, and almost
confused, and when he had left her at her place
after driving her home from work the other day, he
had declined her invitation to come in and instead,
had driven away with just a wave and a distracted
kiss.

“Why not?” He sounded confused. “I said I would,

didn’t I?”

“You did, but…”

INHALED

and smiled to stop herself from

embarrassing herself.

“Never  mind.  I’m  rambling.  Thanks  for…well,
that,”  she  said,  pink  tinging  her  face  as  she  smiled
at him. They had just finished having amazing sex –
again. It was crazy how he seemed able to read her
body  and  anticipate  each  and  every  one  of  her
needs.

“That?” he teased. “Could you be more specific,
please? I’m not sure exactly what you mean by
‘that’.”

She grinned, glad to have the old Damien returned
to her. The fun one, who wanted to be with her and
tried to make her laugh at her own shyness.

“You know, ‘that’ – the part that makes me scream
your name and beg for more. I won’t ever get tired
of ‘that’.” She chuckled.

His smile faded at her words and he slid out of her,
his eyes darting away from her face.

“I’m starving,” she said to dispel a sudden

awkwardness. “I’m going to grab us some wine and
cheese – I don’t really have much else here right
now. I’ll be right back.”

“I’m  not  sure  I  can  move  right  now  –  even  for
food,”  he  groaned,  attempting  to  dispel  the
discomfort  of  the  moment  too?  “My  father’s  maid
had this talent where she always knew when to heat
dinner  and  have  it  on  the  table  for  us…it  was  like
magic,” he said wistfully.

“Didn’t it bother you having someone wait on you
hand and foot all the time?” she asked.

“Did it bother you?” he countered. Rachel paused,
turning to eye him.

“What do you mean?” she asked slowly, a spark of
apprehension shooting through her.

Does he know I’m Carter Vaughan’s daughter?

He had claimed to do his due diligence. Had that
taken him as far back as her paternity?

And if so, why didn’t he mention it before?

Damien didn’t meet her eyes as he reached for his
boxers.

“You grew up with money, didn’t you?” he asked
nonchalantly.

“What makes you say that?” Rachel demanded
defensively. “And even if I did, obviously I’m not
rich anymore.”

She couldn’t say why, but indignation was flowing
through her in a torrent. She didn’t understand his
tone.

“Hey, I’m not trying to upset you,” Damien said
softly. “Sorry if I did.”

“You know who my father was,” Rachel said flatly,
wishing that she wasn’t so disappointed.

“No, I don’t.”

She eyed him skeptically.

“No?” she repeated. “Then why did you ask if I
grew up with money?”

“You have the aura of someone who grew up in
boarding schools,” Damien sighed. “I can tell a rich
girl from a mile away.”

“I’m not a rich girl ... and I resent that you say you
sense an aura like that with me!” Rachel snapped
angrily. “Please stop saying that in such an insulting
way. I-I have nothing to do with my father’s
business. I made it on my own without his help.”

Well, almost on my own. Luke helped.

A  sheen  of  disgust  flashed  in  his  eyes,  for  just  a
moment, but then he blinked and it was gone – if it
had  even  been  there  at  all.  Rachel  couldn’t
understand why he would be disgusted with her. It
wasn’t like he didn’t have money himself. Besides,
she  really  didn’t  have  money.  Not  anymore,
anyways.

“Bad blood between you and him?”

Rachel’s mouth pursed together and she lowered
her eyes.

“It’s a long story,” she mumbled. “He wasn’t a very
good father.”

“Rich dads are notoriously absentee,” Damien
chuckled. “My father included.”

“Is your father well-off? I thought your wealth was
self-realized?” Rachel asked curiously. Instantly,
Damien clammed up, maintaining the smile on his
face but it didn’t meet his eyes in the least.

“Are we really going to spend the night discussing
our fathers?” he asked firmly. “Because I can think
of much better things to do.”

He eyed her suggestively and Rachel found herself
unsure of what to think.

You’re the one who brought up the subject, she

thought.

“I hate to bring this up,” she said delicately. “But
we did plan this little tête-à-tête to discuss moving
forward with establishing care for your father
tonight.”

A scowl appeared on Damien’s face and he
snatched up his boxers.

“Business it is. Should we at least get dressed
before we start this?”

“You’re right,” she muttered. “Damn, now wasn’t
the best time to bring it up. Forget I said anything.
Just stay here and I’ll get the food ready and bring
the wine.”

He sighed, his shoulders lowering with resignation.
“Actually, you’re right. I’m sorry, it’s just…difficult
to go from feeling so…good,” he glanced at her
body with heat flaring again in his eyes, “to
thinking of Dad.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I really do understand.
I’ll be right back, okay?”

Her cell phone was ringing and it took Rachel a full
minute to find her handbag in the darkened front
hallway where she’d discarded it.

When she finally got to it, she paused in surprise.

Luke.

Idly, she held the phone in her hand, unsure of
whether to call him back or not. She thought about
Damien waiting for her in the bedroom and decided
against it but before she put the phone away, she
pulled open her browser on a whim.

Smythe, she typed into the search engine.

Instantly twelve million results came up, among
them, Damien. But that wasn’t who she was
looking for.

Scrolling, her thumb rested on the photo of a
distinguished looking man in his late sixties and an
older, but recognizable, spitting image of the semi
naked man not ten feet away in her bedroom.

Franklin Smythe. CEO and founder of Smythe
Corp.

Smythe Corp. Of course. This is Damien’s father?
The guy dying of stage four prostate cancer?

She refined her search, punching in “Franklin
Smythe, cancer” but nothing pertaining to the man
arose.

Going back, she hastily read through Franklin
Smythe’s Wikipedia page, searching for clues about
Damien’s father’s illness, but there was nothing to

be found.

Then  she  saw  an  article  that  made  her  blood  run
cold.  There  was  a  picture  in  it,  of  a  smiling
Franklin,  cutting  the  ribbon  on  a  new  wing  to  the
Hospital  for  Psychological  Wellness  in  Detroit.  He
looked  hale  and  hearty,  his  arm  wrapped  around  a
buxom blonde. Rachel’s eyes searched for the date
on the article and her heart skipped a couple beats
when she saw that the picture had been taken two
weeks previously. That man did not have stage four
anything.

A now-familiar sense of alarm was knotting in her
gut and slowly, she put the phone away.

“You okay out there?” Damien called.

“Yeah. Just looking for a corkscrew,” she lied,
heading into the kitchen with the wine she had
promised him.

Maybe it was really good makeup. But Rachel had
seen enough death and illness in her time to
recognize someone who was that sick. They always
lost weight and their faces were gaunt and pale.
That man had looked completely healthy.

Or maybe that wasn’t Damien’s father.

But even with that explanation, she couldn’t
supress the unease growing inside her. Franklin

Smythe was from Detroit, just like she was.

Do the Smythes know my family?

She  walked  back  into  the  bedroom,  suddenly  very
aware  of  her  nakedness.  She’d  left  the  food  in  the
kitchen and as she set the pinot grigio on the night
stand,  she  instinctively  reached  for  a  blanket  to
cover her nakedness.

“Are you getting all shy on me suddenly?” Damien
teased.

“Tell me about your father,” she asked, determined
to get to the bottom of these niggling doubts.
“Where is he now?”

Damien’s smile faded and he scowled slightly.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about our
fathers,” he growled. “Isn’t that what we agreed?”

“I want to know where you came from,” she said
simply, not letting it drop. “Is that a problem?”

Damien’s eyes were almost black as he stared at
her but he managed a smile.

“No,” he agreed. “I guess not. It’s just a touchy
subject given all he’s been through.”

“Where is he now? Is he working?”

“Oh,  God  no.  He’s  completely  laid  up.  I  feel  bad
not  being  there  with  him.”  Damien  explained,  his
words  rushing  out  in  a  wave  which  made  Rachel
wonder if he wasn’t making it up as he went along.

“Where are you from originally?”

The question seemed to take him aback.

“New York.”

“You were born in New York?”

Damien’s eyes became slits of annoyance.

“Why do I feel like I’m suddenly being
interrogated?” he demanded, sitting upright. “What
is this about?”

“You tell me,” Rachel said evenly. “Your father is
Franklin Smythe, isn’t he?”

A  thousand  emotions  seemed  to  cross  over
Damien’s  face,  and  none  of  them  were  good.
Rachel  could  almost  see  the  wheels  turning  in  his
mind as he struggled to give her an answer.

“Have you been Googling me?” he demanded,
settling on defensiveness.

“Have you been playing me?” Rachel retorted
evenly, yanking the sheet even higher around her
form. “Why are you really here, Damien? Does this

have something to do with my father?”

“I’m here because I like you,” he growled.

“Is your father really dying?”

A calmness seemed to settle over him and he
pinned her with a cruel stare.

“You  know  what?  It’s  time  for  me  to  go,”  he
sneered  as  he  pulled  on  his  pants.  “And  FYI,  you
and  your  entire  family  can  go  to  hell,  Rachel.  In
fact, I hope you and Luke meet up with your dear
old dad, who is surely burning there as we speak.”

Shock coursed through Rachel as she gaped at him.

“What??” she felt like she’d been physically
slapped.

That was uncalled for, she thought, blinking. To her
horror, tears welled behind her eyes. What the hell
are you crying about? You don’t even really know
this guy. He’s obviously confused and seriously
messed up.

And what hurt the most? He had obviously used
her, and used her caring nature against her.

God, he made me feel for him!

“What are you really doing here, Damien?” she
hissed, steeling herself from his scathing glare. “I

have nothing to do with the Vaughan company.
You’ve wasted your time.”

As her heart continued to crack, and her
embarrassment at how easily he had played her
flamed through her, that long ago lesson, not to let a
man deep inside her walls, reared its ugly head.

The words hurt to say but now his intentions were
becoming clearer.

“You should have slept with my brother if you
wanted an in with Vaughan Industries,” she
continued.

A cruel smile formed on Damien’s lips and he
sneered at her as he buttoned his shirt.

“I wouldn’t touch your brother with a ten-foot
pole,” he growled. “Who knows where his dick’s
been? After all, aren’t you all whores?”

The pain stabbed through her, tearing her walls
down and leaving her wide open to the hate
spewing from him.

“Get  out,”  Rachel  whispered  brokenly.  “I’m  sorry
to  ruin  your  evil  scheme,  but  I  have  nothing  to  do
with  Vaughan  Industries,  or  my  brother  anymore.”
That last part wasn’t quite true, but she didn’t want
this asshole to think he’d hurt Luke by breaking her
heart.

“Pity,” Damien leered, his gaze sliding over her
derisively. “I was looking forward to kicking you to
the curb the same way your brother did my sister.”

Rachel stared at him uncomprehendingly. Tears
now tumbling from her eyes.

“What the hell are you going on about?” she
demanded. “Who’s your sister?”

Damien smirked.

“Collette Smythe,” he spat at her.

Then suddenly, the name Collette did register with
Rachel.

“Collette!” she said, the memory of a hysterical
young, blonde girl popping into her head. “You’re
Collette’s brother?”

“Surprise!” he jeered.

“Are you crazy?” Rachel breathed, her confusion
making reality almost swim in front of her. “You’re
revenge fucking me because your teenaged sister
and my teenaged brother broke up?”

She couldn’t begin to make sense of his logic
except to conclude he was, in fact, unstable.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Damien hissed.
“What your brother did…”

Rachel gaped at him.

“What? What did Luke do, but be a teenager?” she
snapped back, suddenly feeling very naked in spite
of the sheet wrapped around her.

“She  was  pregnant,”  Damien  growled.  “Your
fucking “protective” brother got my sister pregnant
and then kicked her to the curb. She had a botched
abortion and couldn’t even have children after that.
She  tried  to  kill  herself!  Your  goddamn  family
ruined  my  family  for  more  than  fifteen  fucking
years!”

He  towered  over  her  suddenly,  hate  spewing  from
his gaze and lasering into her, cutting her heart into
tiny  pieces.  “And  don’t  try  to  pretend  you  didn’t
know about it all. She told me how you laughed at
her  when  she  went  to  tell  your  brother  about  the
baby. How you called her a slut.

“Fuck!” he spat. “A kid your age shouldn’t have
even known a word like that!”

“No, you’re lying…” Rachel breathed. “Or she’s
lying – that never happened!” Shock suffocated
Rachel and she shook her head.

“My sister fought tooth and nail to get herself back
to the point where she found happiness again. But
she’ll never be the same. Never! She had so many

issues to deal with after the suicide attempt, added
to her depression. We’ve had to fight tooth and nail
just to get her stable and out of the hospitals she
was stuck in for years.”

“Luke didn’t know about a baby,” she whispered
desperately. “He would never have turned his back
on her if he had.”

“He knew, goddammit. Stop fucking lying for him!”
Damien  spat,  whirling  to  leave.  “Never  mind.  I’m
not  surprised  you’re  protecting  him.  Nice  fucking
you, Rachel — you really are a horny bitch, aren’t
you? I thought you’d be a much tougher mark.” He
threw  the  hateful  comment  out  at  her  before
disappearing out of her bedroom door.

A  moment  later,  she  heard  the  smash  of  the  door
slammed  hard  enough  to  shake  the  apartment,
leaving  her  alone  in  the  darkness  to  ponder  what
the hell had just happened.

Instantly, she conjured the memory of the high-
strung blond girl, wailing in the foyer as she begged
Luke to take her back. Had there been any mention
of a baby?

Luke would never have abandoned Collette. He is
too protective to do something like that.

But if Collette had been pregnant, surely she would

have told Luke, if only to keep him.

Maybe  I  don’t  know  my  brother  as  well  as  I
thought, Rachel thought miserably, sinking onto the
bed. She reached for the bottle of wine ignoring the
glass,  downing  a  long  sip  as  if  to  drown  her
sorrows.  All  she  wanted  to  do  was  curl  up  into  a
ball and forget this humiliating experience had ever
happened.

Just another reason I’m glad I’m far away from all
things Vaughan, she thought grimly, knowing that
she would never, ever tell her brother what had just
happened. Whether or not Luke was guilty of the
charges Damien accused him of, her brother would
never let him get away with what he’d just done.

“Y

C H A P T E R 1 2

ou did what?” Franklin choked, his
eyes bugging out of his head.

“She figured it out already,” Damien

sighed, settling back onto the sofa. “She was
smarter than I gave her credit for.”

“You barely got started with her!” Franklin howled.
“You were going to make her fall in love with you,
remember? That was the plan!”

“I know what the plan was, Dad, but it’s done now.
She knows who I am.”

“For  fuck’s  sake,  Damien.  I  asked  you  to  do  one
thing!”  Franklin’s  face  was  red  with  anger  and
Damien  wondered  why  his  father  was  taking  it  so
personally.

“She liked me well enough until I told her what
happened.”

Franklin’s eyes narrowed into slits so small, the
brown of his eyes was no longer apparent.

“You told her the truth?” he echoed. Damien
instantly realized his mistake.

“Dad,  it  wasn’t  going  to  work  anyway  –  She  was
pushing  for  legal  documents,  in  order  to  bring  you
into  Hollywell.  She  plays  by  the  rules.”  he  said.
“Besides,  honestly,  it’s  been  twenty  years  since
those two were together. Collette is better now—”

“That doesn’t take back all the damage that the
Vaughan family has caused us!” Franklin howled,
banging his fist on the coffee table.

“Well, it’s done now,” Damien sighed. “I’m sorry
but it is.”

He couldn’t deny that those words brought a sense
of relief to him.

A month. I couldn’t even keep it up for one month.
Things got too real, too fast, with her.

Perhaps it was the echo of Chandra’s words
echoing through his mind or the notion that maybe
he was fighting a battle that had nothing to do with
him.

No. It’s not either of those things. It’s the fact that I
was developing real feelings for Rachel. She had
been nothing but genuine with him – he was sure of
that, despite how he had left things with her two
nights before.

The  memory  of  her  indignation,  the  pride  behind
her  making  it  on  her  own—all  of  it  had  served  to
show  Damien  that  she  was  nothing  at  all  like  her
father or brother.

He’d seen the shock and yes, the hurt in her eyes,
as  he  threw  his  frustration  and  his  anger  at  her
full  force.  As  ironic  as  it  seemed,  their  plan
probably  worked  even  better  than  they’d  hoped
for.  She  had  looked  truly  lost  by  his  betrayal,  not
that  she’d  admit  it  to  him  or  to  anyone.  She  had
too much pride for that.

Even as he’d left her apartment two nights earlier,
it had taken every fiber of his being not to go back
and comfort the hurt showing in her eyes.

“No,” Franklin growled. “No, it’s not done. You
need to go back and win her over again.”

“Dad, that’s not happening,” Damien snapped.
“She despises me now — our plan worked well in
that regard. There’s no way she’s going to take me
back.”

The  words  sank  heavily  into  his  gut  and  Damien
realized  that  not  seeing  Rachel  again  was  going  to
affect  him  a  lot  more  than  he  was  willing  to  admit
aloud  but  what  else  could  he  do?  He  should  have
paid  more  attention  when  he  first  met  her.  He
remembered  being  worried  that  he  was  too
attracted. Dammit! He wasn’t supposed to get hurt
in this!

“You are a disappointment to me and your sister!”
Franklin hissed. “You should be ashamed of
yourself.”

“Dad, if Collette knew what we were doing—”

“You would upset your sister all over again? Did
you forget how fragile she was? How could you
possibly suggest bringing her into this?”

“I’m just saying that Collette finally made peace
with her demons. Maybe we should too.”

“You’re a terrible brother and son. Get out of my
sight.” Franklin glowered at Damien who rose
stiffly. That was it. He was done.

The years of being berated and mistreated were
behind him. His spine stiffened and he glared back
at Franklin.

“I’m sorry I let you drag me into this in the first
place,” he muttered.

“You won’t be saying that when you’re disowned,
will you?” Franklin sneered and Damien waved his
hand dismissively.

“Do what you have to do, Dad. You’ve lost Collette
and I’ll not be walking through these doors anytime
soon,  after  this.  In  case  you’ve  forgotten,  I’m  a
billionaire in my own right. Your company actually
makes  less  than  mine  according  to  last  quarter’s
statements. So do me a favor and save your rhetoric
for  those  MAGA-hat  wearing  interns  who  flock  to
your  side,  all  right?  Disinherit,  disown  or  do
whatever the hell you want, but leave me the fuck
alone.”

Franklin peered at him with rheumy eyes, his face
registering understanding.

“Oh, my Lord!” he cried. “I can’t believe I didn’t
see it before! You’re in love with her!”

“You’re crazy.”

“You’re in love with that Vaughan slut! That’s why
you’re so upset.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Damien muttered,
storming toward the hallway, before he did
something else he’d regret.

“That’s good! That can work for us!” Franklin
yelled after him. “Hold onto that love and—”

Damien strode out of range purposely and made his
way to the front of the house where Rosalin was
dusting.

“You leave already?” The maid demanded. “No!
You never stay!”

“You should come work for me, Rosa,” Damien
sighed. “Instead of for that kook.”

“That no nice way to speak about your father,”
Rosalin sighed, shaking her head reprovingly.
“Even if it true.”

Damien grinned for what felt like the first time
since leaving Rachel’s apartment.

“You good boy. You stay,” Rosalin pleaded. “Your
father, he has no one.”

“And I am sorry for that, Rosa ... That’s his fault,
not mine,” Damien said firmly. But he smiled gently
at her to take the sting from his words.

“You have to come to Manhattan and stay for a
weekend, all right?”

“Okay,” she agreed without conviction.

“See you, Rosa,” he said, giving her a kiss on the
cheek before disappearing out the door toward his
car. He had driven himself that day, not wanting to
see George’s judging eyes in the rear-view.

Everyone knew better before I started with this shit
—George, Chandra, probably even Rosa. But did I
listen? No.

It was too late for regrets now. What was done was
done. As he had said to his father, Damien knew
that Rachel would not forgive him for all he’d said.
As infuriated as he’d been just now, by his father
referring to her as a slut, the words he threw at her
that night had been even more hurtful, because she
had come to trust him and he betrayed that trust.

He knew that there would be no going back from
that.

As he pulled out of the wrought iron gates, he saw
his father appear on the front steps, his face twisted
in fury and Damien found himself questioning why
this was so important to Franklin.

It’s like Chandra said — it’s been twenty years.
What hadn’t his father told him about that time?

He wrenched his gaze toward the road and
accessed his blue tooth.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Oh, look who it is! Mr. Too-Busy-For-His-Big-
Sister.”

“I’m not too busy for you,” he sighed. “How’s it
going?”

“Oh, you know, just trying to remember where I put
my will to live some days. You?”

Damien shuddered slightly. He knew she was
making cracks to try to be funny, but he didn’t want
to hear them, not when her turbulent life had
affected everyone’s so dramatically.

“What’s wrong, Damien?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to see how you were
doing.”

“Don’t lie to me. I can tell when something’s up.
What’s going on?”

“I just came from Dad’s,” he confessed.

“Ah. Want to come over?”

“Nah. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“What’s the old bastard going on about now?”

Damien gritted his teeth, tempted to tell her the
entire sordid story but he managed to contain
himself.

“It’s hard to say. Can we have him committed?”
Damien half-joked. He remembered what Rachel

had  said  about  fighting  for  power  of  attorney  and
he  was  beginning  to  wonder  if  maybe  Franklin
wasn’t  someone  who  warranted  an  interception  of
legal capacity.

“That’s  why  I  walked  away  a  long  time  ago,  my
dear  brother,”  Collette  chuckled.  “And  trust  me
when  I  say,  I  felt  like  an  entirely  new  woman,
because of that.”

“Yeah. I need to follow your advice.”

“You were doing so well,” his sister continued.
“Why did you go back?”

Because it’s not as easy for me as it is for you to
give up on someone I care about, he wanted to say,
but held his tongue.

“It’s a long story. But I think I’m good now.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure. I just wanted to hear your voice and
make sure you were okay too.”

“Damien, I’ve finally got my life back. I do what I
want – most of the time, anyways. And I feel like a
whole new person. And I’ve got my dog, who…
well, I could do without the stinking mutt but you
know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, a smile curving his lips. “I do.”

“You seeing anyone or are you still married to your
desk?”

Again, his mind wandered back to Rachel.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” he muttered.

“Uh oh. You sound like you just got dumped.”

“It’s complicated.”

“You should hire sexy interns. I have to say, that
was one thing Dad always did right. Kept plenty of
pretty faces around.”

“I could do without the sexual harassment
lawsuits,” Damien replied dryly. “But thanks for
the tip.”

Suddenly,

the

sound

dog

barking

enthusiastically erupted inside the car and Collette
released a grunt of annoyance.

“I have to go, Brother dear. Icarus sees a potential
playmate – or food, I can never tell which. You
come and have dinner soon, okay?”

“Sure. As long as you’re making lasagna,” he
joked.

“Punk. Careful or I’ll take make you lasagna every
Christmas for five years.”

“You  wouldn’t,”  Damien  warned,  the  memory  of
the  house  almost  burning  down  last  year  when
Collette  got  “distracted”  while  cooking  still  fresh
on his mind.

“Love you, Damien.”

“I love you too, Col.”

He disconnected the call and exhaled in a deep sigh
of resignation.

I bet Collette hasn’t thought about Luke Vaughan
in years. The only ones with him on their minds
were me and Dad.

The realization made Damien feel both foolish and
sick to his stomach. He’d fallen victim to his
father’s tales yet again.

You knew better. You knew that this had nothing to
do with Collette and everything to do with Dad. He
was trying to accomplish something – you just
don’t know what. And you enabled him just like you
always do.

And in the process, he’d ruined his chance with
someone whom he’d never had a stronger
connection in his life.

It’s for the best, a little voice in his head insisted.
How do I know that Rachel Vaughan isn’t the

C H A P T E R 1 3

uke  blinked  two  or  three  times  as  if  his
mind  couldn’t  quite  register  what  he  was
seeing  before  him.  His  dark  blue  eyes

seemed the color of midnight while he processed
his sister’s sudden arrival.

“What are you doing here, Rach?” he finally asked
when he found the words. Rachel smirked slightly
but there was no mirth in her expression
whatsoever.

“Nice to see you too, big bro,” she chirped,
sauntering further into his office and settling down
in a chair before him. “How’s Mer?”

Luke gaped at her, shaking his head, his face
paling, reddening and then waning again.

“What the fuck?” he demanded, finally mustering

the anger she had been expecting. “Seriously,
Rachel, what the actual fuck?”

“You kind of look like Dad right now,” she offered,
knowing that her words weren’t helping the
situation in the least.

He sprung up from his chair and padded over to her
as though she was both prey and predator, keeping
his distance slightly while he studied her from head
to toe.

“Is this a joke?” he asked, a glimmer of hope in his
eye. “This is a joke. Ha, ha. Hilarious — get rid of
that pillow.”

He tried to laugh it off, but it was impossible
because deep down, he knew he was staring at his
very pregnant sister and she hadn’t flown to Detroit
to mock him.

“It’s not a joke,” she confirmed, settling back
against the chair with more ease than she felt. “I’m
well and truly knocked up.”

“Who’s the father? Are you married? How the fuck
did this happen?” Luke sputtered, his words
tripping over each other and she stared at him
impassively.

“Now you sound like Dad,” she remarked, shaking
her head. “Really? Those are the questions you fire

at me? How about, ‘How are you feeling? Do you
need anything?’”

Luke scoffed, his face twisting into a scowl of
disbelief.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m not saying the right thing
right  now,”  he  barked.  “My  sister,  whom  I  have
spoken  with  several  times  over  the  past  what?  —
Six months, I’m guessing? —has surely known that
she’s  been  pregnant,  but  failed  to  mention  that
she’s  growing  another  human  being  in  her  womb.
Fuck, Rachel, I didn’t even know you were seeing
anyone!”

“I’m not,” Rachel said flatly. “Which is why I’m
here.”

He looked at her, a cross between compassion and
fury etching his face.

“Does the father even know about this? Who is this
bastard?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know,” Rachel laughed,
again humorlessly. She had spent the past half year
thinking about exactly how this had happened and
how stupid she’d been.

The  gods  couldn’t  just  let  me  forget  I  had  been
humiliated  in  some  botched  revenge  plan  and  go
about  my  life,  could  they?  No,  I  am  perpetually

dragged back into the hell that is my family ties.

Guilt  always  followed  her  thoughts.  Until  Damien
had  appeared  in  her  life,  Rachel  had  never  really
considered Luke anything other than her protector,
her  big  brother  who  was  out  to  save  her  from  the
dangers of life.

But now she didn’t know what to think. If what
Damien had said was true, she didn’t really know
her big brother, did she?

The  combination  of  hormones  and  confusion  had
only  created  doubt  about  her  brother  for  the  first
time  in  her  life,  and  returning  to  Detroit  had  been
the  desperate  act  of  a  woman  who  had  no  other
options  —  as  much  as  she  wished  she  could,  she
simply  couldn’t  bring  herself  to  reach  out  to
Damien, herself.

At  first,  Rachel  had  decided  that  she  was  simply
going  to  raise  her  child  alone.  Her  intention  had
been to not tell anyone about the baby until he was
born,  but  the  pregnancy  had  proved  harder  on  her
than she had expected.

She  couldn’t  do  as  much  as  she  had  been  able  to
before, and her obstetrician had diagnosed her with
hyperemesis gravidarum, which basically translated
into  morning  sickness  to  the  nth  degree.  She  had
already  been  hospitalized  twice  for  dehydration,

and her emotionally and physically draining job at
the hospice wasn’t helping, according to her doctor.
She had been forced to choose between her job and
her baby’s health, and of course, there was no
doubt which way she would choose.

Rachel was very aware that once she held her baby
in her arms, she would never be parted from him or
her. Already, she enjoyed a little thrill every time
she felt her little baby kick or roll over. She hadn’t
been prepared to be a mother, that was for sure, but
it didn’t matter. Nothing would stop her from giving
her child everything.

Everything.

You always wanted to be a mother, she reminded
herself. You wanted to give a child what you never
had yourself—stability and unconditional love.

She just never imagined she’d be doing it alone.

But as she entered her third trimester, she knew
that she couldn’t fulfill the plan which had sounded
so good in her head at the beginning.

She was going to need help.

The question then became did she tell the baby’s
vindictive father, who might take his misplaced
anger out on the baby?

Hard no! If only she could have trusted the man he
had pretended to be. But as much as his betrayal
had hurt, her never ending well of empathy could
almost understand why he had done what he had.

Her empathy didn’t extend far enough to trust him
again, though. He doesn’t need to know.

Unbearably,  Rachel  had  thought  about  Damien
more  often  than  she  should  have  over  the  past  six
months.  Too  often  she  had  reached  for  the  phone,
but  then  forced  herself  not  to  call  him,  reminding
herself  over  and  over  of  the  truly  nasty  words  he
had hurled at her the last time they were together.

What kind of masochist are you? He used you. He
would have used you longer if you hadn’t figured it
out and you miss him? And if you did let him back
in  your  life  ...  how  do  you  know  he  wouldn’t  kick
you  to  the  curb,  as  he’d  promised  to  do  and  take
from  you  the  one  tiny  life  who  mattered  most  to
you?

But to be safe, Rachel knew she had to get out of
New York before she did something she regretted—
like showing up on his doorstep.

Have some damned dignity and think of your baby!
had become her mantra, but as she sat staring at
Luke’s shocked face, she realized that the dignity
part was out the window.

She’d worked so hard to make it on her own, to be
someone she could be proud of without the help of
her father’s money and look where she was.
Pregnant, alone and about to ask Luke for help—
using the inheritance he’d been left by Carter.

“Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?”
Luke pleaded, trying to keep the disappointment
off his face.

Damn,  he  really  is  starting  to  remind  me  of  Dad,
she  thought,  the  notion  causing  a  twist  in  her  gut.
She  knew  her  brother  really  was  nothing  like  the
abusive,  controlling  man  who  had  been  Carter
Vaughan,  but  his  tone  at  that  moment,  and  the
disappointment  she  thought  she  saw  etched  on  his
face, cut her deeply.

“I’m not judging you, Rachel,” Luke growled,
mistaking her silence for defiance. “You’re a grown
ass woman, after all. I’m just trying to understand
how this happened.”

She grinned at him, just slightly, not able to pass
that one up.

“Well, when a man and a woman love each
other…”

“Don’t be a smart ass,” Luke growled, the corner
of his lip lifting in an almost-smile. But then he

returned to serious. “Did something happen to you?
Were you…?”

Rachel just snorted.

“As you just said, Luke, I’m a grown ass woman. It
may come as a shock to you that I am not a virgin.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’ve
always  been  so  responsible.  I  just  can’t  imagine
how  this  happened,  unless…oh  for  Christ’s  sake,
Rachel,  are  you  enjoying  watching  me  sweat?  Just
spill it, already!”

Rachel sighed, losing the bemused expression on
her face. It was true—she had no reason to make
her brother sweat.

Even if this may be his fault.

Protectively,  she  splayed  her  hands  over  her
swollen  belly,  relishing  in  the  comfort  of  the
movements  beneath  palm,  as  her  little  man  made
his presence known.

“I’m pregnant,” she offered and Luke snorted.

“We’re past that,” he grunted. “How far along are
you?”

“Twenty-five weeks.”

“Jesus. Is everything okay with you? With the

baby?”

“Yes,” Rachel replied, exhaling as she finally
recognized the brother she’d always known asking
the right questions. “We’re fine.”

Physically.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Luke demanded,
finally making his way back to his chair as if he
suddenly realized that his huge frame might be
imposing as he towered over her.

“I hoped I could do it on my own, at least until he
was delivered. But work…” She inhaled. “Work is
too much. Everyone is dying around me and it’s not
a good place to be pregnant. I’ve already had to be
hospitalized a couple…”

“What  the  hell?!  Are  you  kidding  me?  And  you
didn’t  call?”  Luke  roared.  “What  were  you
thinking,  Rachel?  For  Chist’s  sake  –  I  love  you.
Why wouldn’t you come to me?”

Now she saw the hurt beneath his anger. Suddenly
the guilt and the pressure were overwhelming. “I’m
sorry…” she said quietly. “I just wanted…to make
it. On my own. You wouldn’t understand.” She
tried to raise gracefully from the chair, knowing she
was going to break down at any moment, but not
wanting to do it in front of her brother.

The trip had been exhausting, and she simply
couldn’t explain how important it had been to her
to not need their father’s money – ever.

“Rachel, look, I’m so sorry,” he said much more
softly. “And I do understand. More than anyone
else ever could. I left too, remember?”

Why had she not remembered that essentially, Luke
had done the same thing she had. Left their cold
and abusive father, and made a fulfilling life for
himself – without any help from Carter or Vaughan
Industries.

“What can I do for you, Rach? Money? A place to
stay? Do you want to move in with us? You know
you’re more than welcome – and the rugrat too, of
course.”

The questions made her feel nauseous, but warm at
the same time.

So much for being a grown ass woman. But I
should have known I could lean on Luke.

“Maybe  both  until  the  baby  is  born,”  she
confessed.  “I’m  not  moving  in  with  you  though,”
she said quickly. “I just need to be able to support
myself  until  I  can  go  back  to  work  after  the  little
hellion  is  born.  Or  as  soon  as  he  stops  catapulting
all  foods  and  liquids  right  out  of  me…”  she  joked

mirthlessly.

“Rachel, tell me what you need me to do,” Luke
insisted. “You know I always have your back.”

Her face softened and she nodded.

“I know.”

They looked at one another awkwardly and Luke
reached for the phone.

“How did you get here? Did you rent a car?”

“No, I flew and took an Uber from the airport.”

“I’ll call Mer and let her know you’re staying with
us for a couple days,” he said, but Rachel shook her
head.

“Not yet,” she instructed him and he slowly put the
phone back. “I need you to do something for me,
first.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Anything,” he agreed. “Name it.”

“I…” she took a deep breath. “I need you to
inform the father.”

Luke stared at her blankly.

“Why can’t you do it?” he demanded and Rachel

grimaced.

“I don’t want to see him.”

“Why not? Did he hurt you? I swear to God,
Rachel, if he put a hand on you—”

“It’s more complicated than that,” she muttered.
“But no, he didn’t touch me.”

“Rachel,  I’m  trying  really  hard  to  react  like  a
normal  human  being  but  you’re  making  it  really
difficult  when  you’re  talking  me  in  circles.  Please,
just spit it out.”

Rachel knew she had to say it, painful as it might
be.

“The father is Damien Smythe,” she said simply,
waiting for the name to resonate with Luke. To her
absolute shock, not a glimmer of recognition
touched his face.

“Fine. He’s from New York?”

Rachel continued to gape at her brother who
returned her gaze expectantly.

“Well?”

“The name doesn’t mean anything to you?” she
asked and Luke’s brow furrowed. Slowly, a gleam
of understanding filled his eyes.

“Franklin Smythe’s son?” he asked.

“Collette Smythe’s brother,” Rachel prodded. “You
know, the girl he says you knocked up in high
school and abandoned?”

Disbelief colored Luke’s face.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he
demanded, anger creeping into his tone. “He told
you that?”

“Is it true?”

“That I impregnated…” He trailed off, his jaw
almost hitting the mahogany desk as a dawning
horror filled his eyes, and rage slowly crept over his
features.

“Is this some kind of sick game?” he choked.
“Damien Smythe got you pregnant as revenge?”

“I don’t think a baby was really a part of his plan,”
Rachel offered by way of consolation, but it did
nothing to dispel the red tinge in Luke’s face.

“He’s out of his fucking mind!” Luke roared. “I
never got Collette pregnant! Trust me, she would
have said something if I had!”

Rachel eyed him uncertainly at first, but she
believed Luke. He’d never lied to her before and
she was sure he wasn’t lying about this.

“Damien  seems  to  think  that  you  did  and  that
Collette  had  an  abortion  which  caused  her  some
sort  of  mental  break.  And  then  she  also  tried  to
commit suicide?”

Consternation and dismay filled Luke’s face.

“No!” he insisted. “There’s no way! If Collette was
pregnant, the baby certainly wasn’t mine.”

He paused and she could see the wheels in his mind
turning.

He’s wondering what Meredith is going to make of
this when she hears about it. Dammit, I shouldn’t
have come. I’m just going to cause drama for them
over ancient history.

“Well, regardless of the truth behind it, Damien
should know he’s about to be a father,” Rachel
sighed. “I wasn’t going to tell him. Ever. But…the
more I think about it, the more I feel like the baby
deserves to know his father.”

“But,  but  –  he’s  obviously  a  sadistic  asshole,  if  he
tried  to  hurt  you  to  get  revenge!  How  could  you
want  him  in  your  life?  In  your  baby’s  life?”  he
asked incredulously.

“Oh,  not  my  life.  Never  again.  And  I  mean  ever.”
Rachel’s  heart  still  ached  when  she  thought  about
his  treachery.  “But  the  more  I  think  about  it,  the

more I think that he’s a little…like you, Luke.” She
braced herself for the explosion she knew was
coming.

“What?! How could you say that? I would never
hurt you!”

“But  that’s  exactly  my  point,  Luke.  You  would  do
everything  in  your  power  to  protect  me.  Always.
And  Damien  feels  the  same  about  his  family.  He
was  obviously  misled  by  at  least  one  of  them,  so
that means he’s prone to being a stupid asshat, but
ultimately,  he  was  putting  his  family  first…”  Her
voice trailed off as she realized she had almost had
that position in his life.

How could that still hurt? After the betrayal and
the pain? I just have to forget him already. It’s not
like I could ever trust him with my heart again
anyways.

“That’s  just  crazy!”  Luke  sputtered,  this  time
reaching  for  his  cell  phone.  “I’m  nothing  like  him.
And you’re right – he’s going to damn well provide
for  this  kid  and  set  the  record  straight.  And  then
I’m going to kill the son-of-a-bitch.”

“I  don’t  want  him  in  the  baby’s  life  if  he  doesn’t
want  to  be,”  Rachel  stressed  vehemently.  “IF  he
wants  a  chance  to  be  in  the  baby’s  life,  then,  I
guess he can maybe have it, but I’d be just peachy

if he doesn’t.”

That would actually be so much easier, she
muttered under her breath.

“And the way things were left, I have to assume he
might not want to be,” Rachel said quickly. “I…I
guess that’s why I’m asking you to tell him. I really
don’t want him to laugh in my face — I trusted him
initially or I wouldn’t have, you know ... I can’t go
through his rejection again.”

“He won’t fucking be laughing in my face,” Luke
assured her, a familiar rage shadowing his eyes.

“Don’t hurt him, Luke,” Rachel told her brother
firmly. “Promise me.”

“I can’t promise you that,” he snapped back.

“Luke…if you don’t promise me, then I’ll do it
myself,” Rachel insisted firmly, waiting for him to
acknowledge her demand.

“Fine!” he growled. “But he won’t always be safe,
Rach. Mark my words. I can wait out a vendetta
too.”

Rachel rolled her eyes.

What  the  hell  was  wrong  with  men?  Did  they  all
think  with  some  archaic  caveman  part  of  their
brain  when  their  protective  emotions  were

involved?

“In the interim, maybe I can stay with Remy,” she
offered quickly. “Or at a hotel. Meredith isn’t going
to take this well.”

Luke’s face was the picture of fury, but he placed a
comforting hand on her shoulder.

“It’s  just  not  true,”  he  insisted  again.  “Whatever
Damien  told  you,  it’s  a  lie.  As  messed  up  as  she
was,  had  I  known  about  a  baby,  I  would  have
figured out a way to see she was cared for.”

Rachel nodded and leaned toward her brother to
kiss his cheek.

“I believe you,” she said softly. “But I still think it’s
a better idea if I go to Remy’s until it’s all sorted
out.”

Luke nodded begrudgingly and exhaled.

“This is fucking nuts,” he growled. “But I’ll get to
the bottom of it, I promise.”

“No!” Rachel said sharply. “Forget about Collette
or whatever happened when you were in high
school. It’s long over now. I just want you to deliver
the message to Damien so he knows about his kid.
It’s not easy, I know, but I feel strongly that it’s not
right to keep it from him.”

“Sure,” Luke replied, the word seeming to stick to
the roof of his mouth and Rachel felt a jab of
worry.

Maybe I made a mistake coming to him. Maybe I
should have just sent an email.

But  there  was  no  guarantee  that  Damien  would
read  an  email  from  her  and  if  Rachel  was  being
honest  with  herself,  she  knew  that  she’d  come  to
Luke  because…well,  she  knew  that  Luke  would
tell her the truth.

Even if it’s not one I want to hear.

“I’m calling a car for you and I’ll tell Remy and
Olive you’re on your way.”

She nodded and squeezed his hand gently.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “Sorry I doubted you.”

Luke met her eyes and shook his ebony mane of
hair earnestly.

“You don’t need to be sorry about a damned thing,”
he growled. “I wish I could say the same about that
fucking idiot, Damien Smythe.”

“Y

C H A P T E R 1 4

ou aren’t going to believe this,”
Chandra breathed, darting into
Damien’s

office.

“But

Luke

Vaughan is outside.”

A peculiar sense of life coming full-circle flowed
through his body. He kept his face impassive.

“He’s pissed!” Chandra continued, her eyes wide
and almost scared. “You better talk to him.”

His instinct was to tell the cocksucker to fuck off,
but he would be lying if curiosity hadn’t
overwhelmed him.

Did something happen to Rachel?

The question twisted a knife through his gut. He’d
tried to discover how she was doing, after

everything fell apart. He’d only recently found out
she was no longer the director at Hollywell Hospice
and that had him concerned. She wouldn’t have left
a job she loved as a result of his vendetta, would
she? The thought pained him.

Isn’t that you wanted to do, you idiot? Breaking
her was the plan, remember?

“Show  him  in,”  Damien  instructed,  sitting  back  as
Chandra  hurried  out  of  the  inner  office.  On  some
level,  he  had  been  expecting  the  visit  from  Luke
immediately after his and Rachel’s last meeting, but
apparently she hadn’t run to her big brother to fight
her  battles  for  her.  And  as  the  months  had  passed
without  word  from  Rachel  or  her  brother,  he
realized he was almost disappointed.

How  many  times  had  he  thought  to  go  speak  with
Rachel, to at least try and smooth things over? But
what could he possibly have said that would make
her  want  to  hear  him?  He’d  behaved  like  an
asshole,  motivated  by  some  notion  of  avenging  his
sister.

A sister who didn’t seem to need avenging
anymore, nor even knew about it.

He knew that walking away from Rachel would be
challenging, at first. What he hadn’t counted on
was how much he found himself missing her.

It didn’t help matters that his father would not let
things drop and was constantly on him to reconcile
with her. The knowledge that Franklin wanted them
together only served to keep Damien away from
her, to protect her from further hurt at the hands of
the Smythe family.

There’s something else going on with Dad. This has
to be about something other than just getting back
at Luke Vaughan.

But life had gone back to a relative normal, even if
Damien did often think of Rachel and what she was
doing.

And now her brother was storming into his office,
smoke almost emanating from his nostrils.

“You and I have something to discuss,” Luke
hissed, advancing on him. Instantly, Damien rose
and met his eyes evenly, both men a hair’s breadth
apart in height.

“Sit  down  then,”  Damien  growled,  determined  not
to be intimidated by Luke’s blustering. Whether or
not  he  had  decided  to  let  go  of  the  age-old
vendetta,  Damien  still  had  no  respect  for  Luke
Vaughan.

“You don’t have any right to tell me what to do,”
Luke snarled. “Not after what you did.”

“If this is about Rachel, that was months ago. Why
are you coming to me now?”

“Why  did  you  target  my  sister,  she  had  absolutely
nothing  to  do  with  Collette’s  relationship  with  me.
What  bullshit  did  Collette  feed  you?”  Luke
snapped. “I never got her pregnant!”

The information caused a stirring of uncertainty in
Damien’s gut, but he maintained the glower on his
face.

“Like you would ever admit to being a coward,”
Damien sneered.

Luke glared at him hatefully.

“I should just fucking bust your pretty face,” Luke
sneered. “Sadly, I promised my sister I wouldn’t do
that.”

Confusion swept through Damien as he studied
Luke’s furious face.

Really? She waited six months to send Luke after
me?

Granted, he hadn’t known Rachel all that well, but
the woman he’d met hardly seemed like the type to
send her big brother after an ex—particularly not
after such an extended amount of time had lapsed.

You’re not an ex, remember? You were a hate fuck.

“Is Rachel okay?” Damien heard himself ask. He
could have kicked himself for showing the
weakness.

Luke scoffed.

“Do you give a shit if she is? She was just a game to
you, wasn’t she? You abused a decent girl for no
reason!”

“My sister was a decent girl too! And I did not
abuse Rachel!” He spat, knowing at least on some
level it was a bald-faced lie.

“Your sister had problems long before I came
along,” Luke spat back. “I didn’t add or subtract to
whatever was going on in her head. Instead of
blaming me, maybe you can look to your father for
the origins of that mess.”

Damien bristled.

“I want to know what she told you,” Luke hissed,
drawing his face closer to Damien. “Whatever it
was, she lied.”

Damien’s eyes narrowed, his lips parting to protest,
but as he thought about it, he realized that Collette
had never told him about her pregnancy.

No, but Dad sure as hell went on about it.

An uneasiness swept through Damien as the sordid

tale replayed in his head. He had been young when
it had all happened but he remembered the breakup
between Luke and Collette, the days of her crying
in her room. Then he remembered the ambulance
showing up one night at home. He had been
ordered to stay in his room, but his father had filled
him in about what had happened the next day.

His father. Fuck!

Had there really been a pregnancy, an abortion?

He  loathed  that  he  was  second-guessing  the  story
that  Franklin  had  told  him,  but  why  was  that
surprising?  Franklin  had  always  had  ulterior
motives when it came to his children.

There’s only one way to get the truth for sure—by
asking Collette.

“I’m waiting!” Luke barked. “Well?”

“You really need to get out of my face,” Damien
insisted, not at all intimidated by Luke, but
definitely getting pissed off. “I’m not talking to you
while you’re breathing down my neck.”

“You’re really in no position to tell me anything,”
Luke growled. “You have no idea what you’ve
done, you stupid bastard. But you’re going to make
it right,” he vowed.

Damien blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

“What exactly do you think I did?” he demanded
warily.

Luke smirked humorlessly.

“You’re going to be a daddy, you prick.”

The words didn’t register right away and he stared
at Luke blankly.

“What?”

“That’s what happens when you take advantage of
unsuspecting women,” Luke hissed.

A combination of emotions flowed through Damien
—denial, disbelief and oddly, defensiveness for
Rachel.

“Your sister is stronger than you give her credit
for,” he growled at the furious, ex-MMA fighter.

If anything, she had the upper hand. Sometimes he
was glad that she never figured out how deeply he
had come to care for her.

Of course he didn’t add that.

“My sister is six months pregnant with your baby.”

Damien peered at him dubiously.

Is this some kind of counter-revenge?

Strangely, he couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t,
that Luke was speaking the truth. Everything about
his anger seemed real and Damien suspected that
Luke was a better fighter than he was an actor.

“I  want  you  to  pull  out  your  check  book  and
write,”  Luke  instructed.  “I’ll  deliver  it  to  her  and
you’ll  stay  the  hell  away  from  her  and  my  family.
Do I make myself clear?”

Damien scoffed.

“She sent you here to get money out of me and tell
me to stay away?” he asked skeptically. Luke’s
eyes became even more furious, if that was
possible.

“She sent me here because she was afraid you’d be
as cruel as you’ve already been to her and laugh in
her face. She left a job that she loved, and likely
her career because of this little vendetta you
cooked up. I’m the one telling you to stay the fuck
away from her — if you value your legs.”

“Threatening me isn’t going to work, Luke,”
Damien snapped.

“It better work, because if I see your face around
my sister—”

“Your sister is not a child who needs you to protect
her,” Damien snarled. “Stop acting like she is.”

“Funny coming from you. You spent twenty years
brewing some insane revenge over a matter that
didn’t even happen for yours.”

“Collette didn’t know anything about this,” Damien
growled before he could stop himself. Luke’s brows
shot up.

“You took it upon yourself to do this? To what end,
Smythe? Were you going to have Rachel fall in love
with you? Marry you? Or maybe this pregnancy
was your plan all along?”

Damien lowered his eyes, knowing how insane it all
sounded now. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty,
after all.

Fuck! He has every right to be incensed.

“I don’t see that check book.”

“I will not walk away from my child,” Damien
barked back. “No matter how much you threaten
me.”

“You already did. When you threw a woman like
Rachel out of your life,” Luke snarled at Damien.
“I’m just ensuring you stay away.”

The men held each other’s gazes unwaveringly.

“Rachel  doesn’t  want  to  see  you,  Damien,”  Luke
said  softly.  “Or  else  she  would  be  here  herself.
You’ve hurt her enough that it took her six months
to even tell me about what you did. She tried it on
her own first, cause that’s just who she is. The only
reason  she  came  to  me  is  because  this  pregnancy
has cost her her livelihood, and it’s kind of hard to
raise  a  kid  by  yourself  when  you  have  no  money
coming in. If you have an ounce of morality, you’ll
leave  her  to  raise  her  child  –  away  from  you  and
your insane family.”

Damien’s jaw clenched, knowing that arguing with
Luke was useless. He would have to speak with
Rachel himself.

Not that I expect that will go a whole lot better.

“Start writing,” Luke snarled. “You’re beginning to
piss me off.”

“I thought Vaughan Industries was thriving,”
Damien said sarcastically. “I had no idea that you
were so strapped for cash.”

Luke  laughed  harshly.  “Oh,  no,  no,  no,  little
hypocrite. You are going to write me that check, so
that  I  can  tell  Rachel  this  is  how  you’re  dealing
with  your  “mistake”.  And  my  sister  turned  away
from Vaughan money, the name and all it stood for
years ago. If you had bothered to investigate at all,

you’d know that. It’s a matter of pride with her, and
you expect me to force it back into her life?” Luke
shot back. “Typical deadbeat.”

Damien gaped at him, a short laugh escaping his
lips.

“I’m telling you that I don’t want to walk away
from Rachel—”

“And I’m telling you the matter is closed. Holy shit,
Smythe, if I have to tell you to write the check one
more time—”

“I’m going to give you a check, Luke, but this
won’t be the last you see of me. I’m going to talk to
Rachel. And you better tell her I’ll be there – soon.
But right now I need to figure out what the hell
happened to my sister.”

Luke smirked.

“We’ll  see,”  he  replied,  snatching  the  check  from
Damien’s  hands.  He  seemed  satisfied  with  the
number  before  returning  his  dark  blue  eyes  on  the
younger man’s face.

“Rachel will see this as a payoff which is no more
than what she was expecting anyway. No matter
what you do from here, she won’t trust you. You’ve
already shown her what a dick you are. This is just
the icing on the cake.”

Luke spun to leave, his words another painful slash
through Damien’s crumbling life.

“I would never desert my child, Vaughan. You’d do
well to remember that.”

“You don’t care about that baby any more than you
cared about Rachel,” Luke growled. “Drop the act
and crawl back under the rock you came out from.”

Luke was gone then, leaving Damien to stare after
him, heart thudding in his chest.

Rachel is pregnant with my child, a child
conceived out of a misguided sense of hate.

This  was  the  universe’s  way  of  telling  him  that  he
and  Rachel  weren’t  finished  with  one  another,
something  he’d  suspected  for  months.  However
he’d gone into their union, Damien had left Rachel
somehow changed. He hadn’t expected the impact
their  short  time  together  would  have  on  him  and
deep down, he had clung to the hope that he might
see her again.

Now, fate had come knocking on his door to tell
him that they weren’t done after all.

I don’t give a shit what that bastard Luke says—I’m
going to talk to Rachel and we’ll figure this out.

But he knew he couldn’t go there until he had the

entire story finally.

He needed to go back to the roots and learn the
truth before confronting Rachel.

Even if that meant splitting open old wounds and
finding out he’d been a pawn of his father’s—
again.

Whatever the outcome, Rachel deserved the truth.
And one way or another, Damien intended to give it
to her.

The only question was, could she forgive him?

C H A P T E R 1 5

here was something endearing about
Remy’s fiancée. She had opened her

arms, home and heart to Rachel, making her feel
completely comfortable. Not an easy feat, to be
sure.

“I  really  appreciate  you  letting  me  stay  here,”
Rachel  told  the  girl  as  she  set  a  cup  of  chamomile
tea  before  her.  “Things  are  kind  of  a  mess  right
now.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Olive replied genially,
her dark eyes warm. “I’ve seen my fair share of
messes.”

Rachel grunted and reached for the mug, her eyes
darting around the condo.

“I gotta tell you, I always thought I was going to be

the one to marry Remy.” There was a teasing note
in her tone.

“I’m sure every little girl thinks she’s going to grow
up to marry her brother’s best friend,” Olive
conceded, grinning and unperturbed. Rachel
nodded and exhaled.

“Maybe that’s what happens when you grow up
with serious daddy issues.”

“Don’t get me started,” Olive laughed. She nodded
toward the coffee table in the living room. “I’m in
the process of doing a DNA search for my own
father.”

There was a home DNA test sitting openly on the
table and Rachel sighed.

“Do you really want to know the truth?” she asked.
“I mean, if you’ve already gone your whole life
without ever meeting the guy, what could the
difference possibly be now?”

Olive shrugged.

“Closure, I guess?” she suggested. “The man who I
thought was my father sold me to Remy – for under
a half mil, I’ve gotta add,” she told Rachel with
disgust. “I guess whatever I learn can’t be worse
than that.”

Rachel didn’t know whether to commiserate with
the woman, or chuckle.

Olive  seemed  to  be  over  the  trauma,  as  it  hadn’t
taken  any  prodding  to  get  her  to  spill  the  tale,  and
she  could  swear  that  the  woman  was  more
disgusted by the amount she had been sold for, than
by  the  ludicrous  situation  where  a  father  sold  his
own child to an ex-Navy Seal, turned famous tattoo
artist.

“Sorry,”

Rachel

mumbled,

settling

commiserating. “I guess we all have our crosses to
bear.”

Will my son want to know who his father is when
he’s older?

Rachel reasoned that at least she’d be able to
provide him with that answer when the time came.

Or maybe I’ll marry someone and my child will
always think my husband is the father, like Olive’s
mom did.

She found herself sneaking a look at Olive, curious
to know how her mother had gotten away with it
for so long. From what Rachel had learned, Olive
had not been treated well by the man she’d always
thought to be her father.

Then again, if she had been, she would have never

met Remy. Lucky bitch, she thought without any
real malice.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Olive said lightly, “but
what’s the deal with your baby daddy? All Remy
will really tell me is that the guy’s an epic bastard.”

Rachel shuddered at the ‘baby daddy’ phrasing.

Good God. I’ve become a Maury show. Baby
daddy. Jesus Christ.

“It’s a long story but he won’t be in the picture,”
she sighed. She thought of the hefty check, sitting
uncashed in her purse.

Luke’s words still echoed in her head.

“He’s not interested in you or the baby,” her
brother had said. “He’ll send you more money if
you need it.”

Rachel didn’t know why it had hurt as much to
hear as it did. What had she really expected? That
he was going to drop everything and declare his
love for her? Beg for her forgiveness?

Could you forgive him anyway? He never cared
about you. That’s why you sent Luke instead of
talking to him yourself. You knew this was going to
be the outcome.

His rejection of her ... again ... didn’t change the

fact  that  she  still  thought  about  his  dark  eyes,
roaming  over  her  body,  searching  her  face  as  if  he
could  read  into  her  soul  as  effortlessly  as  he  read
her body.

What was he thinking? How could his plan ever
have worked?

There were still way more questions than answers
and maybe that was what bothered Rachel the most
—the not knowing.

“Are you hungry? Remy will be home from the
shop soon,” Olive said, rising from the island. “I
can whip up some tacos or something.”

Rachel stared at her, the question barely filtering
through her mind.

You can’t stay here either. These people have a life
together. You’re a third wheel here.

Remy wasn’t her brother and she couldn’t stay with
Luke and Meredith. They were wonderful, but she
needed her own space to learn how to live her life
as a mother.

“Rachel?” Olive asked, cocking her head to the
side with concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I’m just
thinking.”

“I bet,” Olive chuckled. “But how do you feel
about tacos?”

“Sounds great,” Rachel agreed even though food
was the last thing on her mind.

I have to take that money and go back to New York,
she thought. I can’t stay here in Detroit.

“Rachel, you don’t have to make any decisions
right now,” Olive said softly as if reading her mind.
“You need to focus on the baby and nothing else
right now.”

“I am focussing on the baby,” Rachel said with
determination. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking
about.”

“I know a good OB/GYN,” Olive suggested. “I can
try to get you an appointment.”

Rachel raised her eyebrows with suspicion.

“Are you—?”

“No, no,” Olive laughed. “We’re not having a baby
until after I finish college. One more semester.”

“Oh.”

Rachel shifted her eyes away.

“Thanks anyway but I’m not staying in Detroit. I

already have a doctor in New York.”

“The hell you’re going back to New York!” Remy
snapped, sauntering in through the front door.
“How the hell are we going to keep an eye on you
when you’re out east?”

“It’s not that far away,” Rachel said, smothering a
grimace. She hadn’t intended for Remy to hear her
plans. Remy was just as protective of her as Luke
so it was no wonder he expected her to stay too.

“Rach, you have no one in New York,” Remy
reasoned. “Your job isn’t waiting for you, you have
no apartment—”

“Gee, thanks for reminding me about all that’s gone
right in my life,” Rachel said sarcastically. “I
appreciate that.”

“You know what I mean,” Remy insisted, ambling
toward her, his eyes fraught with concern. “What if
something happens to you?”

She heard the underlying disapproval in his voice
and suddenly she felt like she was eight years old
again, being lectured by her teenaged brother.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Remy,” Rachel shot back.
“I can plan my own life accordingly.”

“Did you plan to get knocked up by some

psychopath with a vendetta?” Remy barked back.

Dear God. Remy reminds me of Dad too. I really
need to go back home.

“Damien isn’t a psychopath,” she heard herself
mutter. “He thought he was doing right by his sister.
Just like you and Luke would have done for me.”

She looked meaningfully at him.

“And if you and Luke say you would have done
any differently, you would be lying directly to my
face.”

“You think me or your brother would drag an
innocent party into some skewed revenge plot?
Knock her up and abandon her?”

“Damien  already  thinks  that’s  what  Luke  did,”
Rachel  reminded  him.  “And  here  we  are.  Besides,
he  thinks  that  I  helped  push  his  sister  toward  her
suicide attempt.”

At  Remy’s  raised  brow,  she  quickly  explained,  “I
didn’t  of  course!  I’m  not  sure  why  he  thinks  that,
but  someone  in  his  family  told  him  that  I  was
involved.

“Well, then he’s got liars in his family,” Remy
argued.

“I know that. And you know that. But we trust

what  our  family  tells  us,  right,  Remy?  Unless  it’s
Carter  speaking,  of  course.”  A  delicate  shudder
worked  through  her  as  she  thought  of  how  truly
untrustworthy her father had been.

“Okay,” Olive said quickly, raising her hands.
“Let’s not get into a heated argument over this.
Rachel, do you want to help me in the kitchen?”

Rachel shook her head.

“No,” she muttered, feeling so overwhelmingly
tired. “I’m sorry, Olive. I think I need to lie down
for a bit. I’m tired.”

“That’s a good idea,” Remy agreed in that
authoritative way that made Rachel roll her eyes at
him. “Get some sleep so you can think more
rationally.”

Rachel scowled at him but she didn’t bother to
respond before storming toward the back of the loft
and slipping into the spare bedroom.

She hadn’t been lying—she was exhausted, and as
soon as she lay her head on the pillow, sleep
overcame her.

Should I stay here until the baby’s born or go back
home? She wondered, her palms caressing the swell
of her womb.

Why had she come in the first place? She could
have easily asked Luke for help from New York. In
fact, her brother had been forced to go to the east
coast to confront Damien, hadn’t he?

You came here because you don’t trust yourself to
stay away from Damien, even after everything he’s
done to you.

The reality of the thought caused her eyes to fly
open and she exhaled in a breath of nervousness.

After everything this man has done, you still want
to give him the benefit of a doubt he doesn’t want.
You really do need all the help you can get.

Misery embraced her and Rachel closed her eyes,
reaching for the blanket to pull protectively around
her.

You need to stay here, she thought, succumbing to
sleep. Tomorrow you can start looking for places.

“W

AKE

, R

ACH

.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up in
confusion. Damien sat perched at her side, his
brown eyes huge and concerned.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded,
struggling to sit up but his strong arms pushed her
back against the pillows, his breath warming her
face.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he
explained. “Why did you come here?”

“Is this a joke?” she asked angrily. “You know why
I came here! Look!”

She tossed the blanket aside but to her shock, the
baby bump was gone.

“What did you do?”

“I  didn’t  do  anything!”  he  protested,  lowering  his
head  to  kiss  her  lips.  Eagerly,  she  reached  up  to
pull  him  toward  her,  a  familiar  but  almost
forgotten burst of heat coursing through her.

“No!” she thought she snapped, but the words
didn’t leave her lips and she pulled him even
closer.

“I  missed  you,  I  swear  I  did!”  he  murmured,  his
words tickling the lines of her face as he dropped
his  head  over  the  curve  of  her  chin.  His  strong
hands roamed over her, seeking out the contours of
her  body,  lingering  in  every  place  that  had  been
neglected since he had last been there.

His  lips  trailed  along  her  naked  skin  and  she  idly
wondered  where  her  clothes  had  gone.  But  even
then,  subconsciously,  she  knew  she  was  in  the
throes of a dream.

Don’t wake up, she pleaded with her subconscious.
Please. You need this.

His  tongue  continued  along  the  flatness  of  her
belly, legs rising around his ears for him to nuzzle
against  the  soaked  slit  between  her  legs.  A  low
moan  escaped  her  lips  and  she  arched  her  body
upward to fill his mouth.

“Oh god, I missed you,” she mumbled. “Even
though you’re an incredible bastard.”

He  moaned  into  her  clit,  the  feeling  sending
shockwaves  through  her  system  and  bringing  her
higher  toward  the  orgasm  he  always  coaxed  from
her with such ease.

“Why did you have to be such a bastard?” she
moaned, the build up of release seizing her.

“What if you’re wrong about me?” he asked,
somehow still lapping at her with fervor. “What if
this was all a mistake?”

“I’m  not  falling  for  that  —  I  fell  for  your  stories
one  too  many  times.”  she  sighed,  her  legs
quivering  and  with  a  cry  of  passion,  she  spilled

against his waiting mouth, knowing that this was as
close to Damien as she’d ever get again.

Suddenly, he was gone and she was alone again, a
deep sense of loneliness overwhelming her.

A low sob formed inside her throat and grew into a
cry of sorrow, which reverberated through the
room.

It was enough to rouse her from sleep and when her
eyes opened for real this time, her face was stained
with tears.

Stop it! She growled to herself, stifling her sniffles
with a hand before Olive or Remy could hear her. I
can do this. On my own.

But as she dried her eyes with the back of her
hands, she couldn’t stop the dream from replaying
in her mind.

His words bounced around in her head.

“What if you’re wrong about me? What if this is
all a mistake?”

Miserably, she swallowed her tears and released a
long sigh of resignation. She wasn’t wrong and it
wasn’t a mistake.

She and her baby were still alone.

C H A P T E R 1 6

amien turned to his driver. “I won’t be
long.”

“Of course, Mr. Smythe.”

As he rang Collette’s doorbell, he heard the
cacophony of barking that his arrival had initiated.
Soon, the pounding of large dog paws could be
heard careening around the corner of the entrance.

“Well, hello to you too, Icarus.”

“Coming!” he heard his sister shout.

“Damien?” Collette appeared on the porch, her
eyes lit with confusion. “Is everything okay? Is it
Dad?”

“No, no,” he assured her, closing the distance

between them. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to talk to you about something
that happened a long time ago. Can we sit down for
a minute?”

“Of course.”

Damien followed his sister inside the house, his
mind whirling as she led him into the kitchen.

“Want a beer or something?”

He shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I just want to talk to you about
Luke Vaughan.”

Collette’s eyes darkened and Damien instantly
regretted he’d brought it up so abruptly.

“What about him?”

“Look, I know that whatever happened with you
happened at a time when you were vulnerable—”

“Vulnerable? I was a fucking basket case, Dam.
You were too young to remember but I had a lot of
issues back then.”

“I remember,” Damien muttered uncomfortably.
“Which is why I’m so reluctant to bring it up.”

Collette chuckled softly.

“You can talk about it. It’s embarrassing, not
painful,” she replied, plopping onto a wooden chair
to study his face curiously. “Not anymore, at least.”

“Not painful?” he echoed. “You were a mess when
Luke broke up with you. I…you tried to hurt
yourself.”

Collette’s face shadowed, but she kept eye contact
with him. “Things were…tough, for me. Back then.
I struggled – a lot. With depression, and some other
mental  issues,  Damien,  but  it’s  okay.  I’m  better
now.” She smiled warmly at him as if she was trying
to  comfort  him,  instead  of  the  other  way  around.
“I’m really sorry you had to see that, by the way. I
know I never…apologized before. Dad forbade me
from talking to you about it. He said he’d handle it,
and  I  was  never  to  bring  it  up.  But  now…I  don’t
think  that  was  really  fair.  I’ve  learned  a  lot  in
recovery, and one of the things I’ve learned is that
a person should never try to hide their condition, or
even  be  embarrassed  about  it.  Sometimes  it  really
helps  when  it’s  out  in  the  open,  you  know?
Granted,  I  was  an  emotional  mess,  but  that  was
before  I  was  properly  diagnosed  with  bipolar
disorder. Times were a little different then.”

Damien swallowed, careful to choose his words
properly.

“What about the pregnancy?” he asked, looking
away as he spoke.

“What pregnancy?”

His head raised sharply and he looked at her in
disbelief.

“The one which resulted in the botched abortion
which resulted in your attempt on your life!” he
cried. Collette gaped at him, sheer confusion etched
on her face.

“Damien! Where the hell did you get such an
idea?” she demanded, her face paling. “That never
happened…oh my God!”

Realization colored her face and Damien was sure
he’d never seen his sister so incensed.

“Is this something that Franklin told you?” she
demanded.

Uh oh. She called him Franklin. Oh fuck…

He could only nod, not trusting his voice.

“That son of a bitch! He really does take the cake
for the most despicable father on Earth, doesn’t
he?”

“But you had an abortion—”

“Stop saying that!” Collette hissed, looking around
as if she was worried someone might overhear. “It’s
simply not true.”

“Then why would he tell me all that…?” Damien
asked in disbelief. His entire world view was
shattering before his eyes.

Collette scowled, contempt written all over her
face.

“Do you know our father?”

Shame threatened to smother Damien and he
looked at his sister in shock.

“Oh God…”

“Damn  Franklin  for  saying  that  to  you,”  she
snapped  irritably.  “This  whole  time  you  thought  I
was  some  helpless  victim  of  Luke  Vaughan?  If
anything, I put that poor asshole through the ringer
with my mental issues.”

Her eyes narrowed further.

“Why are you bringing him up now?”

Oh my God. What did I do?

“Why would Dad say that if it never happened?”
Damien demanded again, trying to make sense of
what he’d learned. “What the hell…?”

Collette grunted again.

“Our  father  was  always  trying  to  get  an  ‘in’  with
Carter Vaughan,” she explained. “He was over the
moon  when  I  started  dating  Luke.  He  had  no  idea
what  a  piece  of  shit  Luke’s  dad  was.  But  in
retrospect,  I  doubt  he  would  have  cared.  Dad  was
all  about  the  money  and  making  connections.  It
turned out that Carter had the power to stand in our
father’s way.”

Collette paused and eyed him, a look of
understanding coming over her face.

“Wait  a  sec…he  was  incensed…Franklin.  When
Luke  broke  up  with  me.  He  was  probably  more
upset than I was, to be honest – and that’s saying a
lot,  because  I  went  crazy.  In  hindsight,  it  was  the
event that got me the help I needed, but at the time
I  sure  didn’t  see  it  that  way.  And  neither  did  Dad.
He’s  the  one  that  told  me  we’d  make  them  pay.  I
thought  he  was  trying  to  support  me…in  a  fucked
up  kind  of  way,  but  still.  I  wonder…”  she  trailed
off, both siblings not wanting to believe their father
could have stooped so low as to manipulate both of
his  children  to  further  his  business  dealings.  For
decades.

Fuck.

“I probably only started dating Luke because he

pushed me toward him. Franklin is a great
manipulator, you know?”

“Oh…I’m starting to see that with blinding clarity,”
Damien breathed.

“I think him and Carter had some deal in the works.
Ultimately it fell through and Franklin never really
recovered from the financial loss of it. He had a
hard on for that guy until the day he died.”

“And beyond,” Damien muttered, still not fully
understanding what his father could possibly have
hoped to gain by ruining Rachel Vaughan though.

“What did he make you do?” Collette insisted.
“Jesus Christ, Damien, I told you to walk away
from the old man years ago.”

“I have to go,” Damien breathed, his fists clenching
hard. “Thanks Collette. I’m sorry to have brought
this up again.”

“Damien!”

But he was already gone, flying toward the town
car with his heart in his throat.

“George, take me to—”

“Ms. Vaughan’s apartment?” the driver guessed and
Damien eyed him.

“How did you know?” he muttered.

“I knew you’d come around eventually,” the
chauffeur replied.

CAR

HAD

BARELY

STOP P ED

outside the building,

but  Damien  was  already  jumping  out,  flying  inside
the  lobby  to  buzz  Rachel.  After  the  third  time
poking  his  finger  against  the  intercom,  an  elderly
woman  exited  the  double  doors  and  Damien  let
himself in.

“Hey! Do you live here?” she yelled after him but
Damien was too busy running up the steps,
forsaking the elevator.

What the hell are you even going to say to her?

He didn’t care. All that mattered was that he faced
her. And came clean. She’d never forgive him, he
was sure. But he had to tell her – that she was right,
he was an asshole. A completely unforgivable
asshole.

On the sixth floor, he found himself pounding on
her apartment door.

He already knew he could no longer find her at the
Hospice.

Damien  desperately  wished  he’d  thought  to  ask
Luke  more  about  Rachel  when  he’d  come  to  the
office,  but  he  knew  Rachel’s  brother  probably
wouldn’t have disclosed any real details anyways.

“Oh, my God! If you’re a Jehovah’s Witness, so
help me God—”

The door flew inward and Damien was staring at an
elderly man, his face pinched into a scowl.

“What do you want?”

“Where’s

Rachel?”

Damien

demanded,

dumbfounded.

Did I get the apartment wrong?

But he knew that spot on the wall, the same one
where he’d pinned her, ready to take her right there
in the hallway without reservations.

“Who?” the old man snapped. “You have the
wrong unit, boy.”

The old man turned to slam the door in his face but
Damien stuck out a foot to block him.

“When did you move in here?”

The old timer glowered.

“Two weeks ago,” he snapped. “Now get lost

before I call the cops. No wonder she doesn’t want
you anymore. You’re rude!”

Damien moved his foot out of the way and allowed
the door to slam in his face, his mind whirling
crazily.

Where did she go? She’s pregnant with my baby
and now she’s gone.

He inhaled and forced himself to calm down.

Think.

There was only one place left, that he could
imagine Rachel might have gone if she wasn’t in
New York anymore.

She’s gone home.

He spun back for the stairs, his hands reaching into
his pocket for his cell phone. As he descended the
steps, he pulled up flights to Detroit.

“She wasn’t there, sir?” George asked.

“No,” Damien replied. “And there’s no flights out
tonight. Fuck!”

He inhaled and looked at the driver.

“How much gas is in the tank?” Damien asked.

“There are gas stations everywhere you can drive,

Mr. Smythe,” George reminded him.

“Right. Good. Of course. We’re going on a road
trip, George.”

“Detroit, sir?”

Damien’s mouth parted but no sound came out at
first.

“H-how do you know that?” he demanded.

George chuckled and shook his greying head.

“Mr. Smythe, I have eyes and ears.”

“One day, you’ll have to write a tell-all memoir,
George,” Damien muttered. “Just leave this part of
the story out of it.”

“I have no idea what you mean, sir. Shall we leave
now?”

Damien shot him a grateful smile and nodded.

“Yes, please.”

“It will be fine, sir,” George said, putting the car in
drive.

“How can you know that?” Damien sighed. “You
have no idea how stupid I was.”

“Because Ms. Vaughan had a father like yours too.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I set out to hurt
her, George. On purpose. Fuck.”

“As we always say, Mr. Smythe, you can only
change the future.”

“I can try,” he agreed, pulling up his contacts on his
phone.

He needed to have a long, deep conversation with
his father.

WAS

nine o’clock when the town car pulled up to

Luke Vaughan’s residence and Damien was both
emotionally and physically exhausted from the
journey.

“George, we’ll find a place to rest up,” Damien
promised the driver. “But I need to know that she’s
here first—even if Luke doesn’t let me see her.”

“I understand, sir. Take your time. These old bones
still have more juice in them than you might think.”

Damien didn’t respond and instead bounded up the
steps  toward  the  door.  He  recognized  the  house
from  his  childhood.  It  was  strange  to  be  on  the
steps  of  Carter  Vaughan’s  mansion  after  all  those
years.

He rang the doorbell and in less than a minute, he
was facing a gorgeous blonde with an impassive
face.

“Yes?” she asked coldly, leading Damien to wonder
if she didn’t already know who he was.

“I’m looking for Rachel,” he said. “Please.”

Her brow knit and she shook her head.

“I’m sorry, there’s no Rachel at this residence.
Who are you?”

“You know who I am!” he snapped angrily. “At
least let me talk to Luke.”

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know who you are,” the
blonde insisted. “What’s your name?”

“Damien Smythe,” he growled, knowing she was
toying with him. Her face curled into a sneer, her
full lips becoming a cruel smile.

“Perfect!” she announced with an alarming
cheerfulness. Suddenly, an envelope was slapped in
his hand and he looked at it in disbelief. “You saved
me the trouble of coming to you.”

Damien looked at it uncomprehendingly.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded.

“It’s two things,” the woman replied. “First, it’s an
order to stay a hundred yards away from the
Vaughan family at all times.”

“Fuck. You’re the lawyer?”

Her sneer faded into a death glare.

“I’m more than the lawyer, Mr. Smythe. I’m
Rachel’s sister-in-law. I will make you so sorry you
ever fucked with me if you come back here, or if
you try to hurt her again.”

“I’m not trying to hurt her. I want to explain—”

“Don’t you want to know what the second part of
the summons is?”

“Summons?” he echoed. “What summons?”

Luke appeared behind his wife, his cobalt eyes
glowing with fire.

“You should have just stayed away, Smythe,” he
sighed. “Why didn’t you just listen?”

“What is this, Luke? I just want to make sure
Rachel is okay!” Damien pleaded. “I made a
mistake—”

“Yes, you did,” Luke conceded. “Mer? You want to
tell him?”

“…A

C H A P T E R 1 7

sshole,” she heard Remy snarl. “Good. I

hope  he  cried  like  the  little  bitch  he  is….no,  she’s
still  sleeping…there’s  no  need  to  tell  her  now…
well, the court date is in three weeks, Luke. There’s
enough  time  to  let  her  know…of  course  she’ll
appreciate it.”

Rachel sat back, trying to make sense of what
Remy was talking about with her brother.

What court date? What had they done?

Dammit, she thought, I don’t have a good feeling
about this.

Angrily, she slid open the door to her room and
strode into the living room where Remy had just
hung up the phone.

“What was that about?” she demanded. “What
court date?”

Remy grimaced.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Then you shouldn’t talk so loudly,” she countered.
“What did you guys do?”

“Um,  it’s  possible  that  maybe  Meredith  may  have
prepared  papers  for  you  to  sue  for  all  parental
rights of the baby.” Remy spit the words out as fast
as  he  could.  Rachel  noticed  his  flinch,  as  if  he
expected her to be pissed.

And damn right she was pissed.

The words were little daggers in her heart.

Just hold on a sec, Rachel, and think about this.
Maybe it’s the best thing…in the long run?

The thought hurt hard, but she had to be realistic -
after all, it’s not like Damien had come running
after Luke’s visit, was it?

“But that’s crazy,” she muttered, flopping onto the
couch at his side. Olive was at class, leaving the
two of them alone for a few hours. “I’m the one
who wanted Damien to know about his child. Why
didn’t she come to me with this?”

“You’ve got enough to worry about without legal
issues,” Remy reminded her. “They’re just
watching out for you. We all are.”

“I don’t need to be babysat,” Rachel growled. But
even as she spoke, she thought about how she was
living in his house, knocked up and alone.

“It’s not babysitting. It’s family looking out for one
another,” he said. “Stop taking everything so
personally.”

Rachel  didn’t  know  how  to  feel.  After  Luke  had
told  her  that  Damien  didn’t  want  anything  to  do
with  their  baby,  she  had  cried  –  but  she  hadn’t
allowed herself to indulge for long.

It turned out that in a funny way, his rejection was
kind of what she had needed. The affirmation that
she was on her own.

She had known that, of course, but his check had
just made it more…final. To be honest, she couldn’t
deny that there had been a part of her that thought
he may have tried to contact her when he found
out.

But he hadn’t.

So, if you know that it’s just you and the baby, why
are you still living with Remy and Olive? Hmm?

“Sorry,” she sighed. “So, he knows—Damien?
About Meredith’s petition?”

“He just got served the papers tonight,” Remy
replied and Rachel’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Doesn’t my signature need to be on something like
that?” she asked. Remy didn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m sure Meredith took care of everything.”

“Ethically?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Don’t change the subject, Remy. Why is this being
done so secretively? Damien made it clear that he
didn’t want any part of this baby…didn’t he?”

Remy didn’t answer and Rachel’s eyes grew huge.

“Didn’t he?” she demanded, sitting up straight.
“Remy, what do you know?”

“Luke will kill me…”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t and right now! I’m in
arm’s reach!”

Remy exhaled.

“I guess Smythe showed up at the house looking for
you,” he muttered. “That’s when they served him.”

“What?!”

Remy nodded, looking miserable.

“What did he say? What did he want?” Rachel
ground out.

“I swear, I have no idea.”

Rachel lumbered to her feet.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find out what the hell is going on,”
she snapped.

“Rachel, don’t!”

She ignored him as she snatched up the phone. It
rang in her hand.

“Hello?” she breathed, not recognizing the number.

“Rachel! Are you okay?” Damien demanded.
“Please, just tell me you’re okay.”

A thousand emotions flooded through her, hearing
that deep voice again, making her head spin.

“I didn’t know you were here in Detroit,” she said.
“How did you get this number?”

“I own a technology company, remember?” he said,
then he paused. “So, you want me to give up my

rights to the baby?”

“No! No, I mean…I don’t know what I want,
Damien.”

“Will you talk to me, Rachel?” he implored. “Just
for five minutes – please.”

“Look Damien, Luke told me that you didn’t want
to have anything to do with me or the baby,”
Rachel sighed, glaring furiously at Remy who
wisely backed out of her room.

“That’s just not true, Rachel – I swear. I told Luke
when he came to my office that I was coming to
talk to you – I just had to straighten things out with
my father…and Collette, first.”

His  tone  held  an  unmistakable  ring  of  truth,  and
more  than  that,  it  showed  the  integrity  that  she
knew  was  so  important  to  Damien.  Not  integrity
towards  her,  of  course,  but  to  his  family.  She  had
seen it often when they were together, his sense of
duty, of protectiveness towards those he loved.

If  he  knew  any  of  the  truth  now,  he  would  have
needed  to  confront  his  sister  and  father  before  he
came  to  her.  She  just  didn’t  know  if  he  actually
knew any of the truth, because no one was fucking
telling her the truth!

Rachel didn’t know how to react, who to believe.

How was she supposed to make decisions for her
and her baby when everyone kept lying to her?

“I need to see you, Rachel,” he whispered
fervently. “Where are you?”

She blurted out the address to Remy’s loft.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She exhaled as he hung up and scrambled to find a
sweater.

“You’re not meeting him,” Remy said sternly.
“He’s put you through enough.”

“I’m meeting him. I want to hear what he has to
say.”

“Rachel, he used you—”

“I  know  what  he  did!  I  lived  through  it,
remember?”  she  yelled.  Inhaling  sharply,  she
collected  herself.  “That  doesn’t  change  the  fact
that he is my child’s father. And that everyone has
been lying to me for way too long.”

He looked down with shame. “Rachel, you know
we all – “

“Yes, I know. You have always tried to protect me,
you and Luke both, but it’s high time I stand on my
own two feet.”

“At least let me come with you. What if he—”

“No.”

There was a finality in her tone and Remy seemed
to sense that arguing was futile.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I’ll be back soon.”

She kissed his cheek and hurried out of the loft to
meet

Damien,

her

stomach

twisting

with

apprehension.

C H A P T E R 1 8

he river was stunningly beautiful at
night, Windsor glimmering on the

Canadian side as they stood staring over the water.

“I don’t even begin to know where to start,”
Damien confessed, quietly, grasping her hand.
“What I did…”

“My brother didn’t do anything to your sister,” she
told him flatly. “You were wrong.”

“I know that now,” he agreed, shaking his head
with disgust. “I spent half my life not realizing I
was being played by my father.”

Rachel just looked at him.

“Why? Why would he say something so horrible
when it never happened?”

Damien drew in a breath, before trying to explain
the whole sordid, ridiculous story.

“Our  fathers  were  supposed  to  merge  companies
back in the early 2000s and something went south.
I’m  not  sure  who  was  at  fault  for  the  deal  falling
through  but  I  guess  that  would  really  depend  on
who you asked.”

“That fucking company,” Rachel muttered. “It
haunts me everywhere I fucking go.”

“My father ended up humiliated by the whole
thing, so of course, he made it his life’s mission to
end Vaughan Industries, or at least to hurt all the
Vaughans that he could reach. I’m not sure how, in
his convoluted mind he expected that to work, but
my father…well, he’s not always sane.”

“I can relate to having a father who’s more than a
little  off,”  Rachel  muttered.  She  looked  at  him
warily.  “Did  you  ever  have  feelings  for  me,
Damien?  Or  was  I  always  just…  a  part  of  your
father’s plan?”

“That was the entire problem,” Damien said gruffly,
raw emotion making his voice even deeper than she
remembered.  “I  had  feelings  for  you  from  the
minute  I  met  you  ...  honestly  ...  even  before  you
ripped me a new one, that first day at the hospice.
My  loyalties  were  so  split.  On  one  hand  I  was

coming to care so damn much for you, but on the
other hand, I really did believe my sister’s life had
been ruined by Luke and your family, and that she
needed avenging.” His gaze was piercing. “I had no
idea everything was a lie.”

“The things we do for family,” Rachel sighed,
understanding seeping into her slowly.

“I  don’t  expect  that  you  can  understand  this  or
forgive  me  for  anything  that’s  happened,”  he
sighed. “But I do want you to know that I want to
be  a  part  of  this  baby’s  life.  Fuck,  I  want  to  be  a
part  of  yours  too,  but  I  understand  that  what  I  did
to you was…reprehensible.”

His jaw clenched with the strength of his emotions.
He glanced down, then met her gaze once again.
“Please know that I’m sorry, Rachel. So very sorry.
You never should have been hurt – I never should
have hurt you. It makes me sick to think of what I
did to you, those things I said to you – fuck! I still
can’t believe I said all those horrible things.”

Rachel’s  heart  ached.  She  could  hear  the  sincerity
in  his  words,  but  then  again,  she  thought  she  had
heard  sincerity  before  too.  She  just  couldn’t  get
past that.

“I do want you in both of our lives,” she replied
softly, finally accepting that she should have come

to face him herself. They were both being jerked
around by their families. “Even though I’ve hated
myself, every single time ... I haven’t been able to
stop thinking about you since we were together.”

“Me neither…” he sighed again. “Jesus Christ, I
could have avoided all this if I’d just talked to my
sister before believing what my father told all those
years ago.”

“I guess this is what can happen when we let other
people influence our decisions,” she conceded,
thinking about how her family had been making her
decisions these past weeks – without telling her the
truth either. “Classic Othello syndrome here.”

“No. It was my fault – everything. And I’ll never
forgive myself for what I put you through.”

“I agree that you were an ass. Complete and utter,
really. But I could have talked to you – I was fairly
certain that you were being manipulated by your
father. I was just too scared that you’d…hurt me
again.”

His flinch at her blunt words actually made her feel
a bit better. At least he truly regrets…

She lifted her head to stare into his eyes before she
continued.

“Maybe we should start all over again—sans the

“dying” father and all the secrets.”

A relieved smile touched his face and he nodded.

“Are you sure, Rachel? I can’t believe you’d give
me that chance. I swear – I will never hurt you
again.”

A  small  glint  in  his  eye  warned  her  a  moment
before  he  leaned  forward  to  whisper  in  her  ear.
“Okay, so I have this restaurant in New York called
Yeti. Maybe you’d like to see it one day – after all,
we  seem  to  have  a  special  connection  in…  dining
rooms.”

A shiver of desire slipped down her spine.

Then she grasped his hands and placed them over
her belly.

“God, Rachel, we’re going to be parents. You have
so much to tell me. But first, I need to just hold
you. Just for a moment – until I know you’re real
again.”

She chuckled at his abrupt turn-around, from sexual
dining room references, to babies and cuddling.
“You’re incorrigible,” she breathed.

“You bring out the best in me,” he replied, brushing
his lips over her cheek.

Rachel tilted her head to catch his mouth with hers.

For  the  first  time  since  meeting  him,  there  was  a
certain  freedom  to  the  happiness  she  was  feeling.
No  reservations,  no  suspicions.  She  realized  that
she  had  always  felt  that  something  was  “off”  in
their  early  days.  The  nagging  sense  of  caution  had
weighed down their romance a touch – not enough
to  halt  it,  just  enough  that  a  tiny  piece  of  her  was
always a little skeptical.

Now  she  felt  that  piece  lifting  away,  and  the
lightness  and  sense  of  fulfillment  was…exquisite.
The  feel  of  his  skin  against  hers  felt  exactly  as  it
should, not clouded by doubt or worry, and Rachel
knew she was finally home, in Damien’s arms.

“I

E P I L O G UE

really  think  I  should  stay  at  the
hotel,”  Damien  insisted.  “Luke’s
been  just  waiting  for  a  chance  to

start a fight with me for months.” He sighed
dramatically. “And I’d feel real bad if I hit your
brother.”

“He’s  not  going  to  hit  you,”  Rachel  groaned  and
rolled  her  eyes.  They  both  knew  that  Luke’s
professional  MMA  fighter  status  would  mean  that
Remy  would  be  lucky  if  he  got  a  shot  in  -  if  the
anticipated fight ever actually happened. “Just trust
me.  Anyway,  we  need  to  tell  them  we  eloped
sooner or later.”

“Let’s say later,” Damien suggested as she blew
him a quick kiss before she exited the car. “Let’s
not give him another reason to kill me.”

“You’re the father of his nephew,” Rachel
reminded him. “He’s not going to deck you in front
of Jayden. Is he, little man?” she said, cooing to the
infant.

“Anyway,  the  family  meeting  is  being  hosted  by
Olive,  who  doesn’t  seem  to  despise  you  nearly  as
much  as  everyone  else,”  Rachel  continued  with  a
grin.

“Olive doesn’t count—she’s not really family yet.”

“I wonder when those two are finally going to tie
the knot?” Rachel said. She knocked on the door to
the loft and instantly, Olive’s head poked out, her
eyes glittering with excitement.

“Finally!” she said. “Get in here. Hi, my sweet,
sweet baby!”

She kissed Jayden on top of his head and ushered
the couple inside where Luke and Meredith were
already seated in the living room.

“Sorry. Our flight got delayed because of the
weather,” Rachel explained.

There was a murmur of “hellos” as Luke stood to
hug Rachel and the baby. He deliberately snubbed
Damien, of course.

“You’re going to have to stop with this shit,”

Rachel muttered to her brother, but Luke didn’t
respond. The two men had not warmed up to each
other in the least, although Rachel was pretty sure
it was all just becoming an act for both of them.

“Sit down,” Olive encouraged. “We have
something to tell everyone.”

“You’re pregnant!” Meredith cried excitedly,
clapping her hands together. The noise startled
Jayden, who began to cry.

“Oh! Sorry!” Mer apologized, reaching for the child
to soothe him. “Sorry, cutie. Shh. Auntie Mer was
just too excited that she’s going to be an auntie
again! Well, an honorary one, at least.”

Rachel turned to Olive.

“Are you pregnant?” she squealed, instantly happy
for the pair.

Jayden would have a friend close in age—

“I’m not pregnant,” Olive groaned. “Why does
everyone want to put a baby in my womb?”

“What’s this about then?” Luke asked, a note of
confusion in his voice.

“We’ve finally set the date ... we’re getting married
this Christmas!” Olive exclaimed, reaching for
Remy’s hand. He pulled her into an embrace,

surprising all of them by how tender it was.

“Oh, how wonderful! A Christmas wedding will be
beautiful.  Congratulations  to  you  both.”  Rachel
exclaimed.  “Imagine  that  ...”  she  trailed  off
meaningfully,  looking  around  at  her  closest  family
and friends before she continued.

“Who  would  have  thought  we’d  all  be  hitched  by
the  time  next  year  comes  along.”  She  reached  out
to  Damien,  who  just  grinned  at  her,  shaking  his
head, knowing she couldn’t pass up this opening to
finally announce their elopement.

“What are you talking about, Rach?” Luke and
Remy growled, nearly in unison. “Don’t tell us you
two have set a date, too?”

“Nope  ...  we’ve  already  signed  the  papers.  We
eloped  right  after  Jayden  was  born!”  Rachel
explained  proudly,  not  at  all  alarmed  by  the  fact
that all of them, excluding Damien, were staring at
her, as if she had suddenly sprouted a second head.
The silence in the room was deafening.

Luke was the first to rise and come straight toward
Damien.

“Luke ...” both Meredith and Rachel spoke his
name in unison and with the same intonation of
warning.

“What? I figured I would be the first to
congratulate my nephew’s father for FINALLY
getting his head out of his ass. It sure took him long
enough.”

And with that insult, the silence was finally broken,
the air filling with shouts of congratulations and
well wishes.

Each  couple  had  learned  tough  lessons,  some  by
getting  hit  with  them  harder  than  others.  And  they
knew  that  these  siblings  and  friends  were  always
going to be there for each other.

F O R A P R E V I E W O F L UK E ’ S

S T O R Y , C H E C K O UT R E V E N G E

UN L E A S H E D

“Sweetheart, do I look like I scare easily?” he
growled, his bemusement gone. “I served in the

army for five years—in the action. I’m an MMA
fighter. You might want to take a different approach
if you’re trying to come at me.”

Meredith cocked her head to the side.

“Fear  comes  in  many  forms,  Mr.  Vaughan,”  she
replied  quietly.  “It  doesn’t  matter  how  physically
strong  one  might  be,  everyone  has  their
weaknesses.  Any  good  comic  book  will  tell  you
that.”

His lips parted for a moment and Meredith was
suddenly worried she had gone too far.

Screw it , she thought, might as keep going. In for
a penny, and all that crap…

“You graduated suma cum laude from University of
Michigan. You’ve been groomed to take over your
father’s company. Isn’t that why you went to one
of the best business schools in the country?” she
asked quickly, trying to change the subject.

“You  think  you  know  me  so  well,  don’t  you,  Ms.
Maddox.”  The  scorn  in  his  voice  changed  the
sentence  from  a  question,  to  a  sarcastic  statement.
It  took  her  aback  and  she  just  barely  stopped
herself from replying snidely. He was a conundrum
of  opposing  emotions  beneath  a  stark,  composed
exterior.  It  was  no  wonder  that  his  presence

couldn’t quite be captured in a photograph.

“I didn’t come here to fight with you, Mr.
Vaughan,” she told him softly.

He scoffed and sat back, the glimmer of anger
fading from his eyes.

“Then you might want to start calling me Luke and
not ‘Mr. Vaughan.’ I despise that name.”

“Luke,” she agreed.

Understanding how he felt about his father might
come in handy later.

“Call me Meredith.”

Begrudgingly, he nodded and Mer smiled at him.

“Let me try this again,” she offered. “I don’t know
what my father said to you to turn you off of the
idea of taking over the company which your father
left you, but I want to explain some of the more
humane aspects of what’s at stake here.”

“And  what  makes  you  think  I  give  a  shit?”  Luke
asked  conversationally,  finally  flopping  back
comfortably.  He  folded  his  arms  over  his  chest,
drawing Meredith’s eyes toward his hard pecs.

Stop it! It’s not like I can run my tongue over those
right now. But if I did, would it shock him? Or

would he just guide my head down along the ridges
of—

“That’s what I thought,” Luke snorted and
Meredith realized with great humiliation that she
had been gawking at him without answering.

“You don’t care about your father’s company? I
mean, it was something you had all around you
growing up, something—”

“Meredith, you’re beginning to remind me of your
father,” Luke barked at her. “Did you come here to
say something different or—”

“Did my father tell you what would happen if the
company dissolves?”

“Oh no! You mean I won’t get my mitts on the
billions that Carter squirreled away? That sounds
awful. If only I had learned some way to take care
of myself without his help all these years!”

Meredith almost smiled at the mock horror in his
tone, as she looked around the elegantly decorated
living room.

“You don’t seem to be failing, Luke, but surely you
can always do better. I know you live for a
challenge.”

“Lady, you really are not coming at me the right

way,” Luke growled and Meredith realized he
wasn’t lying.

I need to change tactics. I need to disarm him, but
how? He’s so fucking hostile.

“Forget about your money,” she said quickly.
“Maybe you don’t care about that, but what about
the thousands of people who are going to lose their
jobs when the company gets dissolved, Luke?”

“Not my problem. Maybe they shouldn’t have
worked for such an unholy bastard.”

Meredith scoffed.

“Really?  You  think  that  people  who  need  jobs  are
busy  investigating  the  CEO  of  the  company  they
work  for?  Seriously?  Did  you  thoroughly
investigate the US Army when you took a job with
them because, have I got news for you—”

“Enough!” Luke barked, his jaw clenching hard,
and Meredith saw that she had struck a nerve,
pointing out his callous statement.

“Thousands  of  people  are  going  to  be  displaced,
Luke,” she told him simply. “I don’t know what the
beef  was  with  you  and  your  father,  but  he’s  gone
now.  Whatever  the  bad  blood  was  about,  it
shouldn’t affect the employees and family members
who have nothing to do with this feud.”

Luke was quiet for a long moment, staring at her
almost accusingly for several seconds.

I’m getting through to him. I did it! Without
seducing him! Her libido started to write a letter of
complaint, but inside her mind, she was proud that
she was making headway on her own...wasn’t she?

She  was  growing  hotter  and  hotter  under  her
clothes,  each  glare  he  administered  making
Meredith  want  to  feel  his  strong  body  over  hers,
pinning her down.

Breathe. Focus on your breathing before you
orgasm right in front of him.

“Your five minutes are up.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she stared at
him in shock.

“What?”

“Your time is up,” he told her flatly, rising from his
place on the sofa. He extended an arm for her to go
and she gaped at him, unmoving.

“You’re not going to consider it even?” she asked
in disbelief. “You don’t care about those people?”

He sauntered toward her and paused, towering over
her to cast a shadow on her curvy frame.

“I  care  about  my  people,”  he  spat.  “That’s  why  I
make  efforts  to  take  care  of  my  people.  If  Carter
couldn’t  be  bothered  to  take  care  of  his  own,  why
should I have to clean up his mess?”

The  bitterness  in  his  tone  pierced  through  her  and
regret  flooded  her  body  as  she  slowly  stood.  She
couldn’t  be  sure  if  it  was  his  nearness  or  the
devastating  blow  that  he  had  delivered,  but
suddenly, Meredith was finding it difficult to focus.

“I’m going to leave my card,” she mumbled, defeat
sweeping through her as she reached into her Prada
handbag and scrawled her cell on the back of her
business card. “You can call me any time if you
change your mind.”

“I won’t,” he assured her, turning away. But before
he could move, she reached out to grab him,
pressing the card against his palm.

He flinched as if she had struck him and started
back, dropping the card on the floor.

“I-I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I-I was just giving
you my card.”

“You should go,” he told her flatly, stalking away
quickly and leaving Meredith no choice but to
follow him.

She paused to pick up the card off the floor and

leave in on the coffee table. When she caught up
with him in the foyer, he was standing at the door
with it open, his eyes fixed on her.

That’s it? That can’t be it!

But Luke didn’t say another word as Meredith
walked toward him and she was at a loss for
something to say.

“Luke—” she started to say, an apology ready to
spring from her lips. She couldn’t be sure why she
felt like she needed to say sorry.

“Nice meeting you, Meredith,” he told her but he
did not meet her eyes. And then the door closed.

She stood in the hallway, feeling like she had the
female equivalent of blue balls somehow.

REVENGE UNLEASHED

, by Chloe Fischer

A L S O B Y C H L O E F I S C H E R : T H E M A F I A

S E R I E S

Taking My Mafia Princess

Breaking the Law

Taken by the Mafia Boss

And check out Chloe Fischer’s collaboration boxsets with

Jacey Ward.

In the first generation, there are four alpha brothers with

superpowers, separated as children. A soldier, an assassin, a

thief, and the holder of the baddest superpower of all.

To  connect  with  me,  you  can  sign  up  for  my
Readers  Club.  In  the  club  I  notify  readers  of
upcoming  new  releases,  post  contests  and
giveaways, and sometimes I vent a wee bit.

Everyone needs an outlet, right? Lol

I also ask for plot advice and new character names.
Every now and then I need suggestions on strong
hero and heroine names. (Thanks to all my readers
who have named their own heroes in my books.)

Readers Club Link

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