Blackmailed by the Italian Billionaire (7 page)

“I don’t normally do that sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing would that be?” he asked.

He wasn’t going to make this easy on her and staring into that hard blank face, it was slowly dawning on her that for some reason he was angry. Coldly, furiously angry, and again, she couldn’t understand why. So, she had left without saying good-bye. That was hardly a crime. He’d probably left dozens of women in the same way.

“Sleeping with men I’ve only just met.”

“I’m aware of that. Your lack of experience was obvious.”

What the hell could he possibly mean by that? That she’d been no good? She shook her head. “Anyway, all I’m saying is that I was off-balance that night. I was scared, and you sort of saved me and…” she floundered.

“…and you slept with me to say thank you,” he said. “How sweet.”

Lia winced at the sarcasm in his voice.

“Or perhaps,” he said, “the truth is, you slept with me so you would get a chance to search my office, and if that’s the case—” He paused and took off his dark glasses. “—then I’m curious to know just what it is you were hoping to find.”

Lia stared into those icy, green eyes and shivered.

“What were you looking for, Lia?”

Her heart plummeted. This was a nightmare. It had to be. How could he know? He must be guessing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Luc laughed, but the sound held no amusement. “You were caught on CCTV.”

“On what TV?”

“There’s a closed circuit TV camera set up in my office. I have you on film.”

Lia turned away to give herself a moment to think. A truly horrible thought struck. She turned back to face him. “Just your office?” she croaked.

Luc smiled. “Don’t worry, your performance in the bedroom wasn’t caught on camera.”

Relief flooded her. The thought of what they had done being filmed was enough to break her out in a cold sweat. The thought of him watching it made her flood with heat.

“Mind you,” he said, “even putting aside the idea of industrial espionage, which I’m sure the police would be more than willing to investigate, there are a couple of extremely good shots of you—pretty much naked—that might possibly make a good pinup.”

“What?”

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Lia? Treacherous, deceitful, but basically a good girl.” He made the words sound like something dirty. “Or at least I’d bet the people you work with think you are. How would you like those pictures posted on the Internet?” He paused, no doubt to let the idea sink in. “Perhaps e-mailed to your friends, colleagues, the local newspaper.”

Lia shook her head, bewildered. “Why would you do that?”

“I won’t need to if you tell me what I want to know.”

Faintness washed over her. “You wouldn’t.”

He didn’t reply, and looking at that hard, implacable face, Lia knew he was capable of anything. The nausea rose suddenly, hot and bitter in the back of her throat, and she reeled away, stumbling in her need to put distance between them. She retreated into the stable and threw up until her stomach was empty then stood leaning against the wall for support.

“Lia?”

She thought about ignoring him, but knew he was unlikely to go away. “What?” she asked bitterly.

“What were you looking for?”

He was remorseless, and she felt the first stirring of anger. She couldn’t believe he had taped their meeting and was threatening to publish pictures of her. If they got out, there would go her clean-cut image and her chance at the sponsorship deal. She glared at him, in hatred. Even though he might be despicable, she had to tell him something.

“I need a drink. Come on.”

When he didn’t immediately follow, she stopped. “Look,” she said, “I promise I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Her brain was working furiously as she led the way across the yard to the room they used for breaks. She switched on the coffee machine and took a bottle of water from the fridge. Ignoring Luc, she went to the small bathroom and splashed her face with water, then rinsed her mouth out over and over again until the sour taste was gone. In the mirror, she appeared pale, her eyes huge and shadowed. What she needed was a plan, but her mind refused to cooperate.

Luc rapped on the wood. “Lia, come out of there.”

Finally, she opened the door.

“Are you all right?” he asked

“Like you care.” She wanted to rant and rage, but it wasn’t going to help—she had gotten into this herself—so it was up to her to get out of it.

“Do you want a coffee?” she asked and was pleased at the surprised glance he threw her way. It was good to get him off-balance.

He nodded. “Black, no sugar.”

As she went to walk past, he touched her arm and she flinched. “What now?”

He nodded to the strapping on her right wrist. “Your arm—you’ve hurt it?”

“I fell off. It’s nothing.”

“Fell off? Fell off what?”

“A horse.”
What the hell else would I fall off?

Lia made the coffee, adding milk and sugar to her own. She handed him his mug, took hers over to her favorite seat, and sank down. He remained standing, but Lia refused to be intimidated further.

“Is that why you slept with me?” she asked. “Did you have this planned?”

“No,
cara
.” he drawled. “But I could hardly resist such a willing offer.”

She stared at him, making no attempt to hide the hatred in her eyes. “Would you really publish those pictures?”

He didn’t answer, just took a sip of his coffee, and stared at her.

“Stupid question,” she muttered more to herself than Luc.

“Tell me what you were looking for, Lia.”

“I was looking for my father. I thought you might have some information about him. You said you knew him.”

Luc studied her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “So you really don’t know where he is?”

“Why the hell would I be looking for him,” she said slowly, enunciating each word, “if I knew where he was? Are you being purposefully obtuse or just stupid? I do not know where my father is.” She sighed. “Look, Mr. Severino…”

“Don’t you think we’ve gone a little past such formalities?”

Lia gritted her teeth at the reminder. “Luc,” she said, “I haven’t seen my father in over ten years.”

“Letters? Telephone calls?”

“I haven’t seen him, heard from him. Nothing. I went to see Harley Watson because I remembered him from when we lived in London. I thought he might know where my father had been for the last ten years.”

“Why didn’t you just ask? Why the charade about the job?”

She glared at him incredulously. “I didn’t know my father well, and I hardly knew Mr. Watson at all. But I do know something of what he was, what they both were, and I couldn’t just walk in there and ask.”

“Why did you leave with me?”

Lia looked away and shoved her hands in her pockets. “For the same reason. You said you knew my father and…” She cast him a bitter glance, “at the time I believed you were the safer bet. Anyway, I thought you might have some information. You said you were an acquaintance. I don’t know anything about you apart from that. Then we…” she paused at a loss for words.

“Had wild, mind-blowing sex,” Luc said, and she glared at him again.

“Anyway, I felt uncomfortable, so I ran, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I told you the job was separate, nothing to do with sleeping with me.”

“And I told you I don’t want your stupid job, I only wanted to find my father.” She looked at him and suddenly realized that it had all been for nothing anyway. “You don’t know where he is either, do you?”

Luc sipped his coffee. “No, but I want to find him.”

“Why?”

“Unfinished business.”

“What sort of unfinished business?” she asked.

“That’s unimportant. So, why do you want to find him now after all this time?”

Lia thought for a moment. She didn’t want him to know her financial situation; it was none of his business.

“I promised my mother,” she said at last.

“Why?”

“My mother loved my father. She was very upset when he left. And my father hasn’t even met Mike, my brother, he’s only ten—he was born after my father disappeared. My mother wanted him to see Mike, and I promised I would try to find him.”

“Very admirable. But what’s changed? Why now?”

God, he was persistent. “My mother died six months ago.”

“You told Harley she was fine.”

“I thought Mr. Watson might not help me. He and my mother were friends, sort of, but I was nothing to him. Look, my mother’s dead, and I wanted to find my father, that’s not a crime.”

“Do you love your father?”

“Of course,” Lia said, lying.

But this was a different Lia from the one he’d met at the club and the one he’d had in his bed. No makeup, dressed in faded jeans, the soft, blue denim molded to her long legs and the slight curves of her bottom, and an equally faded T-shirt clinging to her small breasts. The sleek fall of hair had been replaced by a mass of blond curls pulled ruthlessly back into a ponytail. He found her natural beauty a refreshing change from the sophisticated, made-up women he usually dated.

So which one was the real Olivia Brent? Was she setting him up so Jimmy Brent could finish the job he’d started all those years ago? She honestly didn’t look treacherous—she looked gorgeous and real, and down to earth.

She’d put down her coffee cup and sat curled up in the chair, hugging her knees to her chest, nibbling on that succulent lower lip, obviously deep in thought. Then she glanced up at him.

“So, now I’ve told you what you wanted to know, will you give me those pictures?”

“No.”

A scowl flashed across her face, and she jumped up and paced the room in frustration. She came to a halt in front of him hands on her hips, and Luc almost smiled.