Everything But Perfect (4 page)

Her father showed her no mercy.
“I didn’t mention it to you?” he asked his wife, effectively preventing further
discussion about it in front of invited guests.

“No, you did not,” her mother
warned sweetly.

Cheyanne could not miss the
exchange between her parents, fearing she would lose her place and then be so
lost she would never recover.

Her father then said, shock of
all shocks, “Come join the party, Cheyanne.”

What? In the clothes on her back?
Surely, he jests?

“Yes, do join the party,” Regina
piped in, her words not quite meeting her glare. “We are just discussing a
celebratory engagement party for tomorrow night.”

“No. I would not want to
intrude,” she tumbled out, her tongue tied in knots from Mitch’s innocent piece
of advice still swirling in her head.

“Nonsense,” her mother declared.
“Join us.”

“I haven’t unpacked…so much to
do.”

A steely grip suddenly held her
by the elbow—again. “I’m sure it won’t take that long to unpack a few dirty clothes,
Cheyanne. Join the party.”

Her eyes whipped to his. He was
smiling at her now, but she wasn’t feeling the love.

He physically walked her into the
room with the rest, once inside, dropping her elbow to sit on a sofa. Nowhere
to sit, she stood her ground. He then nonchalantly scooted over to make room
for her next to him.

She ignored this play, countering
it with a glare.

Her mother found the vacant spot,
and told her to sit.

She again glared at Mitch just to
make herself feel better.

As her ass was about to touch the
cushion, he slid over and she nearly landed on his lap. Damn the man. He knew
what it was doing to her to be so near to him. She’d rather eat dog dung than
be inches from someone who made her teeth ache.

“I hear you just arrived from
Africa?” one of the guests asked.

She was still reeling with the
fact Mitch would not move over and their thighs were touching.

“Um, yes, that’s right.”

“Do tell us about you little
adventure.”

Little adventure?
Cheyanne bit down on her tongue
to hold back the fury. It was not a
little adventure
, it was her career,
her life’s work, the blood pumping in her veins.

Her father, subdued into
listening about her wayward lifestyle for the next half hour, the escapades,
the spider bites and cave-ins, shifted what seemed uncomfortably in his seat. Yes,
she may have elaborated on a few of the details, but no one was calling her out
on it.

“So, with a broken leg, we had to
borrow a man from Denmark, and he was carried off by camel for almost forty
miles before he figured out how to get the animal to stop,” she ended her tale with.

“Why not just jump off the damn
thing?” Jessup inquired.

Cheyanne turned to her brother,
who was holding Regina’s hand. “That’s what broke the first man’s leg.”

“How dreadful,” Regina said,
drawing Cheyanne’s eyes to hers.

“It wasn’t that bad. He walked
back the forty miles, pissed as hell, but eventually he got back onto another
camel.”

“What a terrible occupation.
Snake bites, demented camels…” If Regina was trying to get her goat, she was
going a damn fine job at it.

“It’s the life I choose to live,”
she replied, standing up for herself.

A predatory stare came from her
father, so she quickly sought out another’s eyes, continuing with her
adventures. No matter what he said or did, she was not going to back down. What
right did he have to prejudge her existence?

She could have sworn the thigh
next to hers had tensed, however.

The party disbanded around
midnight. To avoid another distressing encounter, she offered to help with
cleanup duty. Rosa would not hear of it, nor would her father.

“I’d like a word with you,” he
said briskly.

She could not help but glance at
Mitch. He hadn’t left the room and seemed substantially amused she was about to
be called out on each of her tales.

She stood her ground, just a wee
bit tipsy. Perhaps she’d had more to drink than first thought during the party.

Her judgment clouded by alcohol,
she snapped, “Can’t it wait until the morning?”

“No,” he warned, stopping her from
leaving the room.

The bitter aftertaste of
gut-wrenching defeat swallowed, she turned to face her tormentor—well, both of
them. Her father was now standing behind Mitch, oddly with his hand on the
man’s shoulder.

Sighing heavily, she moved to the
opposite sofa, away from the one grinning at her. Stone stiff, he emptied the
contents of his glass and did not look in the slightest bit ready to give them
privacy for this long-awaited reunion.

Not only did she have to suffer
the humiliating child-like treatment,
he
had to witness it.

She tore her eyes from the
incessant man and directed her attention onto her father’s face. He was now
pacing behind Mitch. Her mother was sitting quietly in a chair.

Joe stopped in front of her and
bore down on her like a viper to its prey. “Don’t you wonder why you were asked
to come home?” he angrily accused.

She would rather have died than
start an all-out war in front of a man she still considers a stranger, but her
father just provoked her into one. Lopsided and without proper ammunition, she
gave what she could to the cause. “Does it really matter? You forced my hand by
threats. You blackmailed me into returning home.”

A fleeting assessment to Mitch, her
mutiny increased. There was a lazy grin on his face, warning her of his
thoughts. He was truly amused by this.

Well, Hell! Not anything of this
was amusing. It was downright degrading. He hearing about their family’s dirty
little secrets made her sick.

“I did, because you need to act as
if you’re a Ribbons.”

“Need to act…” She could barely
sort out her thoughts. “You control everything. You blackmailed your own
daughter, ruined the possibility of a great find. How am I not
acting
like a Ribbons? Is there a manual I wasn’t given?”

The more Mitch smiled, the more
her fury boiled over.

“I was fine with you not knowing
where I was, or who I was with,” she continued. Her fists balled. “Don’t
pretend my mentioning co-workers did not bother you. I saw it in your face. You
try very hard not to say what’s on your mind, but your face gives you away,
every time. It always did.”

Perhaps her father was not as
strong as she thought him to be, that face now paling, but she no longer cared.
Their relationship had severed four years ago, and it was not coming back.

Becoming reckless, she reloaded
for round two, but this was cut short when interrupted.

“I don’t give a damn what you
were doing or who you slept with,” he blurted out, “but I demand your respect
while under this roof, and Goddamnit, I’m going to get it this time.”

“Then perhaps I should not
be
under this roof!” She stood quickly.

A knife inside the room could
have cut the thick anger.

“I should have stuck to my gut
instinct. You’re too full of yourself to care about anyone else, and I should
have stayed in Africa, where I belong.”

“From this moment forward, Cheyanne,
you are in the care of Mitch. No more Africa, no more torrid affairs…”

“Torrid what?” she yelped.

“You heard me,” he said.

“I haven’t…” Her eyes reached
Mitch and he was no longer smiling.

Cheyanne would not dare defend
her innocence, once seeing his judgmental frown. And what did her father mean,
“in
the care of Mitch?”
She felt stupefied, her breath burning her lungs on the
way out. Glancing once more at the man, she saw his returning humor.

“What is so goddamn funny to
you?” she snapped.

The entire room went ghostly still.

Mitch rose from his seat, setting
his empty glass on the low table, and then took two steps toward her. He stood mere
inches from her body.

“You really had no idea, did
you?” he asked softly, an exact opposite of what she had thought would come
from him.

She raised her hand, and slapped
his arrogant mouth, leaving a trail of red prints on his handsome features. Her
mother gasped, her father snorted, and Mitch looked ready to kill. Rich mocha
eyes turned deadly black; demon black. On the outside, he seemed fine,
untouched. She was sure the inside was a different story.

She trembled under his stare.

“I told you once, but apparently
I will have to say it again. No wife of mine will ever get away with hitting me,
without consequences.” His hand moved up to his cheek, in slow motion.

Cheyanne pleaded with her mother
for answers, but Louise rose from her chair and left the room. Apparently, it
was now two against one.

Chapter Five

Aggravated beyond sane reasoning
that two highly intelligent men should play games with her, Cheyanne was about
to storm out of the room, but she was held from retreat by a firm grip around
her wrist.

“Let me go…you barbaric…”

“Not until you understand,” he
said, perhaps certain that if he kept her in this room, she would.

“Let me go,” she hissed at his
face.

“You’re behaving like a fool!”
her father announced.

“I’m—I’m behaving…” She could
barely breathe, let alone speak.

“Let the man explain, Cheyanne, then
you can have your tantrum, no one caring.” Mitch was still in control of her
every move, his hand crushing her wrist.

He nearly dragged her back to the
sofa and none too gently pushed her onto it. Five minutes later, her head was
swimming in a sea of despair.

“If Jessup hadn’t squandered away
millions on a bad land deal, Ribbons would still be thriving. We do not want
our loss to go public, since it’s not a public company. Mitch has generously
agreed to take over the reins for majority shares. You have those shares and
the only way he can get them is through marriage. I had this set up long before
any of my kids were born, in case of the possibility of hostile takeover, but
it is certainly a small price to pay to save the family company from ruin.”

“Small price to pay?” she yelped.
Her eyes went to Mitch, pain and hatred for the man her father was selling her
to shadowed her soul.

She knew of the way the shares
had to unfold—marriage—but she never thought she would have to default her life
just to save the family fortune. Nor, that a mere stranger was to gain control
of her.

“I can’t believe any of this is
real,” she said, dropping her head into her hands. Her head then whipped up.
“What does Jessup say to this?”

“He won’t have any say. Whoever
holds the most shares is CEO. It wasn’t the way I wanted it, but Mitch assures
me it’s for the best.”

“Oh, I just bet he does,” she
said tartly, sharing her disgust equally among those still in the room.

“Jessup thinks he’s gotten away
with stupidity. He will marry that high-fluting woman and ruin more of himself
than just this company.” Once again, he stopped pacing and ran his hand through
his hair. “My son has little to be desired in the brains department, even more
in choosing whom he intends on marrying.”

All of a sudden, her father
changed gears on her and smiled. “I will leave you two alone to hash out the
details.”

Two seconds later, he left the
room.

Why hadn’t she thought something
like this was in her future? Her father was asking her to exchange her life for
money. Was he that resentful at her for defying his authority and leaving for
Africa? Could he be so blinded by greed, so cold and calculating, that he would
damage not only her future, but Angels’, as well? The dig sight would make them
all famous—eventually. She’d done her homework. That ancient city was there;
she need only find it under a mountain of sand.

Angel would die if he had a
scandal attached to his name. He was too decent, a real person, with real
honesty. She could not imagine what this would do to him.

Angel’s reputation ruined, they
were all ruined.

Watching Mitch, as if he had not
a care in the world, the bile filled her mouth. Cheyanne clenched her jaw to
hold it at bay. Choosing between friendship and family against dignity and
fortune…God, help her, she hated the man now standing before her.

“He really hadn’t thought you
would buckle and return,” he said.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Your deep seated hatred is
pretty hard to miss.” His words were careless, and so uncalled for.

“What right do you have…” she
started. She did not think she could take much more of his arrogance. Anything
coming out of her mouth amused him, and that just annoyed her in the worst
possible way.

“I have every right in the world.
You’re here, your self-righteous pride is wounded, and you still have not
figured out why your father came to me with this.” Having gotten her attention,
Mitch continued. “He knew you would do what you had to do, to save your mother’s
company. Her fortune, her honor, and her place in society…it all rests on your
shoulders now. Make the right choice, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that!”

His brow had risen. “Would you
prefer if I call you bitch?”

“Would you prefer if I hit you
again?”

“I’d like to see you try it,” he
said forcibly.

Cheyanne backed down. “Why would
you go along with this? I could turn the both of you in. Blackmailing a person
for company shares is illegal.”

“No one would listen to you, even
if you dared.”

“Oh, really?”

“For the past two years, Joe made
it a point to let others know how spiteful you are.”

These words stopped her cold.

Her father, well known in New
York, the man could do no wrong. She, on the other hand, left the bosom of her
family on a whim. She was the wildcat, returning to the den.

Taking a deep breath to control
her darkest emotions, she sat down for fear her legs would give out on her.
“Why hurt Angel?” she muttered.

“If Joe had nothing against you,
you would not be wondering why.”

“Why go to the trouble of
pretending you did not know who I was on the train?”

“At that moment, I hadn’t known.
Had I, you would owe me twelve dollars for your meal.” His eyes then lit up,
staring at her face. “I sure as hell would not have allowed you to use my
shoulder as a pillow, either. As far as I’m concerned, you are to be a wife in
name only, nothing more. I want the gain of your shares. I won’t open up a
single part of my life to you. In fact, I would prefer you went back to your
lover…Angel, is it? I wonder how much of one he really is.”

He rose from his seat; leaving Cheyanne
to watch him like a hawk watches a mouse on an open hayfield.

“In a few days, you will be Mrs.
Lavede, then hopefully nowhere near me until the marriage annulled.”

He poured a drink, downing it
swiftly. “You will get an allowance to live on, but you will not live with me. Nor
will you have any contact with me, unless I say so.”

Cheyanne’s contempt for the man kept
piling higher. She stood, and when he returned close to her, she raised her
arm, but he caught it before she could get away with what was still fresh on
her mind.

“Damn you!” he ground out, his
grip on her wrist beyond painful. “Once was more than enough. Twice…and you
won’t like the consequences.”

****

If this was what he had to do to
keep her virginal outrage in check, so be it. He was more than willing to do
whatever was necessary to keep control, but he never thought she would soften
under his touch.

The hungry ache Mitch could not
seem to control built quickly. He felt the lust—tangible, real. Now, all he had
to do was let her go. Then why the hell was he still holding her wrist?

Cheyanne had closed her eyes,
tempting fate. Her breathing all but ceased the moment he touched her, he set
his mouth against hers, her pliant lips burning against his flesh.

Tempting fate’s hand, as well, he
knew to do this was to strike a deal with the devil, shake Satan’s hand while at
the foot of Hell’s gates. He released her; uncertain of what he’d started,
unsure of anything at this point.

This was not supposed to happen.
There was to be no contact with this woman, no entanglements, no involvement.
She would not be able to build up any walls or create any traps that he might
fall into.

“You have one day to decide.”
Mitch stood his ground, his muscles tense.

Daddy’s little princess was
looking at him as if he had said the world would end tomorrow.

“Decide to marry, or watch
Ribbons Corporation fail, like so many others. I highly doubt you would want to
step back and watch your mother suffer in bankruptcy court.”

“It would never come to that,”
she said bitterly.

“It already has, sweetheart. Why
do you think making a deal with the devil is necessary? It’s not for personal
enjoyment, I can assure you.”

“Are you gay?” she suddenly
blurted, dead serious.

Mitch checked his mirth. “Um, no.
Far from it.”

“Then go to Hell!”

Eyes blazing, she raised her hand
to her lips, and then ran from the room, posthaste.

Mitch watched her go, knowing she
would come back. She had too much pride, too much fire to allow him the easy
claim to her soul. He had broken her down by one well-timed kiss, cracking her
shell. His gut said she would be his by the end of the week, in every sense of
the word, and his gut never failed him before.

He lied about no contact. What
man would not, if it got him what he wanted that much quicker?

Then why did he feel like a heel
for doing it? Even if he told her the truth, he now knew he was in deep trouble
with a dangerous woman. Jessup took billions from a company and reduced it to
pauper status. The takeover was pittance for Jessup’s mistake.

Mitch now wondered if he was not
making a bigger mistake. He would own a company, if liquidated, worth billions,
but he was not certain he was ready to give up on a spiteful vixen. He liked a
woman with fire in her soul. She would challenge him and he would have to
prepare for this expectancy.

****

Out in the rose garden, unknowing
and uncaring to how she got there, Cheyanne sunk to her knees and cried.
Mitch’s forced embrace had somehow made waves of desire rise up in her as never
before. The tips of her toes were still on fire, never mind how her lips felt. He
was a dangerous man, inside and out.

She wasn’t used to playing with
men like him. Then again, she hadn’t played with any man in four long years. She
meant only to push him into giving up this cockamamie idea. Her mother made it
perfectly clear she had little concern to the outcome. Her father was just an
ass, all the way around. And Mitch? Good God, just thinking about him made her
blood boil.

The mountain overshadowing the
molehill was the fact her father’s money was the one thing keeping the dig site
open. If she went along with this blackmail, it would remain open. If she did
not, Joe would shut her down faster than blowing out a match. There was only
one thing she could do. This one thing chilled her to the marrow of her soul.

She rubbed her hands up and down
her arms, but procrastinating would do her no good. If she marries, he could
have his quick win, she could leave, power and money exchanged for dignity.

That was the real gist of her sudden
heartache. Her dignity was on the line.

She stood then made her way back
into the mansion. She had one heart-wrenching night to make her choice. All she
had to do was hand over her shares, and then go back to Africa…as easy peasy as
baking an apple pie. What could possibly by the downfall?

She was chagrined to discover Mitch
hadn’t left the mansion. She headed to the bar, pouring a drink.

No downfall? Who am I kidding?

Turning, with glass in hand, she
watched Mitch remove papers from his tuxedo pocket. He laid them out on the low
table, smoothing out the creases. Not once did his face give an indication of
what was coming next.

“I’ve changed my mind. You decide
tonight.”

Cheyanne took a deep breath, held
it, and then checked her temper when lack of air made her lightheaded. Either
that, or Mitch seemed to draw out the blood from places needing it the most.

She swallowed the fire in her
glass, and to her dismay started choking. Mitch, coming to her aide, checked
himself.

Under tear brimmed lashes, his
reaction did not go unnoticed or uncategorized. Had he really jumped to his
feet, concerned for her welfare?

He retraced his steps and sat
down, producing a pen from his pocket. He twirled it in his fingers, clicking
the end, repeatedly. He was making her nervous by the action.

“What are those?” she asked,
pointing at the papers.

“These?” He pointed at them, as
well.

“Yes, those,” she said quickly.

“Documents to your death sentence,
sweetheart.”

The subtle click of the pen broke
her last straw. Cheyanne backed away, praying the documents would not leap off
the table and reach her. Devil’s parchments…from devil’s spawn.

“The sooner we get this over
with, the better for all. I have things to do tonight, and I don’t have any
more time to waste.”

“More important things than
obtaining billions by default?”

His eyes reached hers. “
Much
…more.”