Текст книги "The Billionaire's Forgotten Fiancée"

Автор книги: Nadia Lee

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

Chapter Fifteen

Shane and Ginger left the farm after two more days. They hugged Fraser and Zoe—only Ginger hugged Trevor—and promised to visit again soon, maybe even spend the Fourth of July with them. That had perked up her parents so much that Shane had felt guilty. Just how little time had Ginger spent with them on holidays?

He hadn’t wanted to drive separately, but she didn’t want to leave her car behind, and he didn’t think Mark would appreciate him leaving his precious Aston Martin at the farm.

“Follow me to my place,” he said.

“I don’t need to. I know where you live.” She blinked up at him. “Do you?”

“Of course I do.” Mark’s GPS had Shane’s place programmed. Technology was a wonderful thing.

“Fine. The loser owes the winner lunch.”

“Oh, I think we can do better than that,” he said. “Lunch and twenty minutes of slow head.”

“You’re on,” she said, then dashed to her car.

He let her go first. It was unfair to pit an Aston Martin against a Nissan. He waited ten minutes, then started.

It didn’t take that long, only a couple of hours. The late morning traffic was pretty light. Still he hadn’t spotted Ginger’s car, which was odd, but she’d probably had to stop for gas or something along the way.

When he was about five or so blocks away from his penthouse, he finally dialed Ginger. He had no doubt she knew where his place was, given how long they’d been together. But he hadn’t seen her at all, and she could be in trouble…maybe a blown tire or something.

“Hello, Loser,” she answered.

He laughed. “Who are you calling ‘Loser’? I’m almost at my place now.”

“That makes you the loser. I’m already in your living room.”

What the hell? “How did you get there so fast?”

“I know a shortcut. I’m guessing you just let your GPS guide you?”

He heard her chuckle with satisfaction and had to grin. “I’ll be there in two minutes to pay up.”

He pulled into the underground parking garage at his place. Whistling, he got into the elevator. He didn’t think he’d be happy if he’d lost to someone else, but it was Ginger. Besides, lunch and burying his face in her afterward? That felt more like a gold medal than a penalty.

The elevator stopped on the top floor, and he stepped into the penthouse. It was huge, with an open layout and floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city. At night, the view would be dazzling.

The kitchen had four gas burners and a griddle, plus two ovens and a built-in microwave. An enormous stainless steel refrigerator occupied the center, and pots and pans hung from hooks on the high ceiling. “Was I a great cook?” he asked.

“No. But you let one of Mark’s chefs design the kitchen for you. You wanted it to have everything.” She ran her hand along the marble countertop. “It was your way of telling me you wanted me to have the best. You bought it after we graduated from college.”

“Where did we go?”

“Berkeley.” She smiled. “You only got in because your brothers made a huge donation in your name, I think.”

“How come?”

“You applied past deadline because you heard it was the only school I applied to.”

“Seriously? You didn’t have a backup school?”

“I didn’t want to go anywhere else. It was Berkeley or nothing.”

“Good thing you got in then.”

She grinned. “I know.”

“Where was I supposed to go?” he asked. He was certain his parents had particular expectations, especially Salazar, who undoubtedly wanted to pretend to visit him so he could screw the young things on campus.

“An Ivy League school.”

“I see.” Probably any top-tier university with hot coeds would’ve been acceptable. He looked around. “Where do I keep the takeout menus?”

She reached over and opened the top drawer in the kitchen. “Here.” She pulled out a sheaf of them. “We have Chinese, Italian, Thai and basically everything else. If they don’t deliver, you have the concierge on your speed dial.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Mmm.” She considered. “How about a pepperoni pizza?”

“Works for me.” He ordered a large pepperoni pizza and a bottle of Coke Zero and mineral water. The bored-sounding girl on the line said it’d take about thirty minutes. Perfect, he thought.

He tossed the phone on the countertop. “We have half an hour,” he said. “So I move that we have dessert first.”

“Dessert?”

“I believe you won the bet.” He walked toward her, herding her over to the kitchen island. Her face flushed, her eyes brilliant and dark.

She licked her lips. “What if the delivery guy comes early?”

“Time to live dangerously.” He stripped her of her shirt and bra and dropped to his knees in front of her, undoing the clasp on her shorts and pulling them and her panties down her smooth legs, all the while peppering her belly with feather-light kisses.

He dipped a thumb between her legs and grunted with approval at how wet she already was. “Were you thinking about this while you were waiting for me?”

“A little,” she said, her voice unsteady.

He pushed at her legs. “Spread wider and tilt your hips forward. Lean back against the island.”

She did as she was told. He licked a wet path down her belly until he reached the slick prize between her legs. He tongued it gently, licking with just the tip. A tremor ran through her, and he blew on it, then breathed in her scent. Here it was darker and heavier with her feminine musk. He wanted to hear her scream her brains out in his kitchen. Then in his living room. And bedroom. And everywhere else in the penthouse.

He pushed his tongue into her folds and she moaned softly, pushing her sex toward his mouth. He gripped her pelvis, holding her there so he could eat her up.

As he licked and sucked on her clit, she threw her head back, her hair hanging loose. The position pushed her breasts out, the pink tips erect, and the soft mounds jiggling with every labored breath she took. Did she have any idea how fucking gorgeous she was? Everything paled next to her.

He pushed his tongue as far as he could into her tight channel, savoring the way she tasted and felt. She was wound tight, so close that a little nudge and she’d fall apart. She was also damn vocal about what she wanted—harder, faster, yes there, oh my god.

Her voice and demands drove him. He wanted to feel her climax burn through her with keen desperation that left him aching.

He coated his thumb thoroughly with her slick juices until it was drenched. Then increasing the pressure of his mouth, he brushed her tight rosette with it.

Her hands dug into his hair. “Oh my god. Shane!” She spread herself wider, completely open to him. Her knuckles whitened as she screamed and came apart. Her legs gave out, and he caught her before she hit the floor.

She shuddered in his arms. “Oh my god…” she moaned.

He kissed her on the mouth. She responded greedily, her body apparently still primed. “I want you inside me so bad,” she whispered against his mouth as she licked her own juices from his lips. “Please.”

He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. His cock sprang out, fully erect and hard as marble. “Ride me,” he ordered.

Biting her lower lip, she gripped his shaft and levered herself onto him. She was so slick he slipped right in. He bit back a groan. Holy hell. That felt amazing. Like a hot, moist velvet glove…

Her walls clenched around him as she moved. He rubbed a finger around her folds, getting it wet. As she found her rhythm, he teased her anus then pressed into it.

Sucking in a deep breath, she slowed then stilled. “Shane…”

“Does it not feel good?” he murmured, his mouth traveling over her collarbone.

“It…does, but…”

“Shhh. Don’t overthink it. Just enjoy it.” He licked the pulse on her neck. “Haven’t we done this before?”

She swallowed before shaking her head.

“If you don’t like it, tell me and I’ll stop.”

She moved again, thank god, and he kept his rhythm on her anus synced to hers over his cock. She whimpered, the sound thin with need.

A knot of pleasure tingled in his groin, and he gritted his teeth as he held himself back. Ginger’s pleasure came first.

He braced his feet on the floor and thrust into her harder, increasing the pressure and speed. She watched him, her darkened eyes on his. Her breasts bobbed, and she panted faster. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Come for me, Ginger,” he said.

She clenched her teeth, then threw her head back and screamed as he kept pumping into her. Her walls tightened and milked his cock, making him hiss as an electric sensation spread all over him. She looked like a goddess, her golden hair cascading around her, and her body glowing with pleasure.

Unable to wait anymore, he gripped her ass hard as he ground into her. “Mine,” he grated out, then let go and came inside her.

Her arms relaxed around him. The kiss she gave him was cotton candy sweet.

Content with the world, he kissed her back leisurely. Then sighed when the intercom buzzed.

Her belly growled on cue, and she pulled back with a giggle. “Lunch.”

He grazed her stomach with a finger. “Your wish is my command.”

* * *

Ginger munched on a slice of pizza as she looked around the penthouse. Everything was immaculate; it hadn’t changed at all since the day she’d come over to return the engagement ring. The housekeeping had kept the place in tiptop shape, and all the photos and albums on the mantle over the fireplace were dust-free.

Shane pulled three of the albums and brought them to the low table where their pizza was spread out. “So. Are the pictures inside all mine?” he asked.

“No. Some of them are mine and some are your family photographer’s.” She flipped opened the black one. Shane had never let her peek inside it before, calling it “a bunch of old family photos and stupid stuff”.

Inside were pictures of Shane as a baby, then his transformation into a toddler…a boy…then a man. He hadn’t been the happiest child. Kids generally weren’t shy and awkward in front of cameras, especially when they were handsome and generally outgoing. But Shane’s smiles were either stoic or obviously staged at the photographer’s direction. And he wasn’t the only one. His siblings also posed like store mannequins, and his parents were just as stiff, even in the shots where they had their arms around each other.

“Do you remember any of it?” she asked, looking at him.

“No. I just know we weren’t all that happy.”

“Things could change, you know,” she said. “Ceinlys was so…relaxed at the dinner. I’ve never seen her like that before.”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

“What about your dad? Has he called you yet?”

“Nah. And I don’t really expect him to. He never wanted me anyway.” He gave her a rueful smile that made her chest tight. “Yeah, I remember that much. Anyway, let’s not talk about that boring stuff. If you want to look through the photos, feel free. I’m going to nap now that I’m full.” He patted his stomach. “Join me?”

“If I nap now I’m not going to be able to fall asleep tonight.” She wanted to look at the rest of the albums, especially the ones he’d never let her see.

He nodded and closed his eyes. Soon he was snoring softly, his face slack and relaxed. She pulled an afghan over him and turned back to the albums.

Finally she reached a red one. She hadn’t seen that one either. She’d never understood why he’d kept so many if he didn’t want to show them to anybody. He certainly hadn’t looked at them much.

When she flipped the pages, an envelope dropped to the floor. She picked it up. It held something stiff inside, maybe a few photos he hadn’t yet mounted? There were only two words on the envelope—Re: Ginger.

Tilting her head, she opened it. Six photos spilled out onto her hands, then fell to the floor as she started shaking violently.

Her vision hazed, her mouth going dry. She blinked a few times, trying to focus on them, to see the details. Her heart pounded erratically, and something bitter and nasty coursed through her veins. She clenched her teeth as her stomach twisted hard, pushing the pizza back up.

She fell to her knees in front of the glossy photos. They were of her…and some men. They were in some kind of club, but she didn’t recognize the location. And she didn’t recognize anybody else in the pictures except herself.

But in the photos, she was laughing with the men. One of them had his hand on the small of her back and was leaning close, his face a handsbreadth away from her breasts. He wasn’t an ugly man, but she would’ve never allowed somebody she didn’t even know that kind of liberty, even if she’d been single.

Then there was another one of her dancing and laughing. Again, surrounded by men. They looked at her, and it appeared they were eye-fucking her even in the dim light.

Somebody buying her a drink. She accepting it with a flirty grin and a hand on the collar of his shirt.

She slowly gathered them up. They had to be photoshopped. There had to be some kind of inconsistency with the shadows or colors or…something that would show that they weren’t genuine.

Her body went alternately hot and cold as she studied every single square inch of them. She couldn’t see anything that looked wrong. And being a photographer herself, she knew what to look for.

What if whoever was behind them was really good? What if that was how they were able to make them look so authentic?

Who would make something like these and send them to Shane? A jealous woman who wanted Shane for herself? But Ginger had never noticed anybody like that around. He’d always been careful to let people know he was with Ginger and Ginger only.

She didn’t have any stalker or psycho ex-boyfriend either. She’d dated a boy before Shane, but that had been her freshman year of high school. The last she’d heard, he was a successful lawyer, happily married with two kids.

She reached for the envelope. The front had Shane’s name and address, and some PO box for the sender who hadn’t bothered to put down his—or her—name. It was postmarked the previous May.

Now it made sense. His erratic behavior. His leaving. His refusal to talk to her.

Anger exploded in her chest, stealing her breath. She was shaking so hard, she couldn’t even cry out in fury. Her eyes grew hot with unshed tears. He should’ve confronted her with them. Given her a chance to explain. She’d deserved that much, hadn’t she?

At the same time, a small part of her knew why he hadn’t. He’d never had any role model. That had been before his siblings had settled down, and his parents’ marriage had been a train wreck. She could just see him asking Salazar for advice. “Well, son, you should’ve expected it. That’s always how relationships go. There are other fish in the sea.”

The fury turned into an aching sense of loss and betrayal. She tried to blink away the tears, but they coursed down her cheeks anyway.

She stuffed the horrible pictures back into the envelope and shoved it into her purse. She was about to leave, then stopped at the sight of Shane. Quickly she scribbled a note for him on a napkin:

I just remembered something I have to do. Don’t worry about me.

She was going to find out who’d sabotaged her relationship with Shane and stolen one of the most precious things in her life. And then there would be hell to pay.

Chapter Sixteen

The first thing Ginger did when she got home was boot her laptop so she could look up the address. The PO Box was located in Cincinnati, Ohio. She could probably call the post office and ask who was renting it.

The United States Postal Service site pulled up the number. When she dialed, the clerk said there must’ve been an error since the PO Box number didn’t exist. “You might want to contact the sender for the right address.”

“I don’t have their number or anything,” she said.

“Oh. Then I don’t know. Do you at least know their full name or the company name?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

The man sucked his teeth. “Don’t know what to tell you then.”

“Thanks anyway.” She hung up. Dead end.

She bit her lower lip. Why did she think it’d be easy? She’d thought she’d trace the address, find whoever was behind this and confront them. Were there any fingerprints on the envelope? She stared at it dubiously. Cop shows always had people handle evidence with gloves on. She doubted there was anything usable left after Shane and she had touched the envelope with their bare hands, assuming that the sender had been careless. It looked like it had all been carefully planned.

Who could help her figure this out? Shane’s family had private investigators on retainer to handle delicate situations, but she didn’t want to use them. She wasn’t certain that they’d be discreet until she got to the bottom of this. Their loyalty was to Shane, not her.

Then she snapped her fingers. Trevor!

How could she not have thought of this? She picked up her phone again and speed-dialed her brother. He’d always said he had contacts. Maybe they could dig around. When he didn’t pick up, she called her parents’ farm. Zoe answered the phone.

“Hi Mom. Is Trevor there?”

“No, he had to leave suddenly.”

“For what?”

“He said it was classified.” Ginger could imagine her mother rolling her eyes. Trevor threw that around so many times that they weren’t sure if it was for real or a code word for “I don’t want to talk bout it.”

“Did he say when he was coming back?” Trevor didn’t answer his phone or check voice mail when he was on his “classified” assignments.

“No. Are you all right, Ginger? You sound harried.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I just remembered something I had to tell him, but it’s not urgent. I’ll wait until he’s back. Love you.”

“Love you too, dear.”

Ginger tapped her finger on the edge of her phone. Another bust. What should she do next? Just cold call a few investigators and see? But the really good ones didn’t work for just anybody. She’d heard rumors that even Justin Sterling had had to get an introduction at one point.

She called Debbie. “Hey, can we meet?” Debbie was her last hope.

“I’m in downtown right now. You want to meet for coffee or something?”

“Sure.”

“Actually let’s have dim sum. I didn’t eat lunch, and I’m starving.”

“Okay, that’s fine, too.”

“Meet me at Golden Dragon in half an hour or so then. If I get there early I’ll order for you.”

Ginger put the envelope back into her purse and drove to the restaurant. Debbie liked it because it had fabulous Chinese food, and most importantly, she got to eat free there since it was owned by one of her second cousins. The place was gorgeously appointed in rich gold and red and dragon motifs. The hostess recognized Ginger and led her immediately to the private dining room in the back.

Debbie was in a cute sunflower yellow dress with spaghetti straps. Expertly pedicured toes peeked through her matching sandals. She pushed her shoulder-length black hair back when she noticed Ginger and gestured at the empty high-backed chair. “I just got here. Finished my soup. The lobster’s very good today.”

“Is lobster ever not good?” Ginger took the seat. It was amazing how much food Debbie ate and still managed to stay thin.

Debbie chortled. “True.” Her sharp gaze zeroed in on Ginger’s face. “So what’s up? You don’t look like a carefree, ‘I’m in love’ kind of woman. I thought you reconciled with Shane?” She glanced at the ring on Ginger’s finger.

“We did, and it was great, but that’s not why I wanted to see you.” She pulled out the photos inside and explained what they were. And how she couldn’t trace anything back to the sender.

Debbie stared at the pictures. “They’re really good. Wow. They look so authentic.”

“That’s the problem. I think they’re the reason Shane pulled that disappearing act.”

Debbie’s head snapped up. “Damn. That sucks. Why didn’t he say something?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he just freaked out. You know his family history. And these pictures… Shane probably looked for signs of manipulation and couldn’t find any.” He was a talented photographer himself and knew what good photoshopping could do.

Debbie scowled. “So you can’t tell if they’re photoshopped either?”

“If they were of somebody else, I would’ve thought they were real.”

“Eeek.” She rested her chin in her hand. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to find the person who did this.” Ginger explained what she’d tried. “So it looks like I’ll have to hire a pro for the job, and I’d like your help.”

“How?”

“You guys have an investigator on retainer, don’t you?”

“Yeah, we do, for vetting new employees and other stuff. But I don’t know the guy personally. He only deals with Dad. I’ll ask when I call him tonight.” Debbie scowled. “But the guy might be really expensive. Dad likes to splurge—you get what you pay for, blah blah blah blah blah.”

“I’ve got the money,” Ginger said. Dane had paid her plenty.

“Okay. I can’t promise anything…but hey, if Dad says no, we’ll find somebody else. It doesn’t matter.” Debbie narrowed her eyes. “I want to know what bastard did this to you, so I can set them on fire and watch them burn.”

Ginger hugged her friend. “You’re the best.”

* * *

“Ginger!”

His breaths came out in white puffs in the frosty air. He could barely make out anything in the darkness, but the way his voice echoed said the place was barren.

The sound of breathing grew louder as he ran. His heartbeat increased, each da-dum louder that the one before.

Where was she? He was so damn alone…

Finally he saw someone not too far ahead. He ran toward the figure, knowing it was Ginger. Nobody else was in the dark place except her.

She was standing in a puddle. Ginger turned her head slowly, her gaze unfocused and dim. She didn’t smile or wave. Her arms dangled by her sides, and there was a wet red stain on her thin, white dress. His gut twisted as he saw it was blood. “Ginger…”

The pale skin over her collarbone split. More blood spilled out.

“Oh my god, Ginger.” He reached out for her, pulled her close.

She didn’t make a sound, but more of her skin peeled open like an invisible knife was being pulled across her.

Fear chilled him. He held onto her, tightening his arms around her. “Stop!” he screamed, but more lacerations appeared on her skin and face. “Ginger!”

“Shane…?” she whispered. “It hurts.”

“Somebody help!” Panic bubbled in his throat. “Help!”

“Help!” Shane jackknifed into a sitting position…then blinked at the bright light shining into his eyes. He put a hand over them. Sweat filmed over his body, and his heart was beating fast and hard.

What the hell had that been? It didn’t feel like a lost memory coming back.

He buried his head in his hands, his heart starting to slow. Stupid nightmare.

He looked around.

Alone.

“Ginger?” he called out. “Ginger?”

No answer. Panic re-spiked his pulse. He rolled to his feet, bumping into the table. The empty pizza box and napkins fell on the floor, but he ignored them. “Ginger, where are you?”

He looked everywhere. Where was she? Was she okay?

There had been so much blood. He ran a hand over his face, trying to regain some perspective. It was just a nightmare. Not real. She was probably fine. He dialed her number.

“Hey, Shane,” Ginger said.

“Where are you?”

“I’m out. With Debbie. Are you okay?”

Was he okay? He stared at his shaking hand. Jesus. He clenched it and dragged in some air. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I left you a note on the pizza box.”

“You did? Uh, yeah. I didn’t see it. I…” He swallowed. “I was just worried.” Who was Debbie? Oh yeah… Ginger’s best friend. “Okay then. Have a good time. When are you coming back?”

“Not sure yet. I have a lot of work to catch up on since I took so much time off. Even when I’m not working for clients, I have paperwork and stuff.”

He wanted to see her now, to make sure she was okay, but he also didn’t want her to see him like this. “Okay. Yeah, that’s fine.” He hung up and tossed the phone on the counter and rested his elbows on it, burying his face in his hands. Had he always overreacted after bad dreams? What an embarrassment.

Or was it just that particular dream? Jesus, it had felt real! He could still smell Ginger’s blood.

He breathed through his mouth. She’d been cut every time he touched her or said her name. Even his panic-scrambled brain could pick that up.

He dug the heels of his palms against his eyes. It was just a stupid dream. It didn’t mean anything.