Scandalously Expecting His Child. Olivia Gates

      Her accent was American, her voice too low to fathom clearly in the background din, but its warmth speared through his loins, made him grit his teeth.

      Hiro pulled her more securely to his side. “It must be a mere manifestation of your electrifying personality.”

      Raiden aborted a snort at Hiro’s hackneyed comment. But what he couldn’t rein in was his rising hackles at Hiro’s possessive attitude. He couldn’t believe his reaction. He’d never felt confrontational with another man over a woman.

      Then she turned fully to him, the smile on her lips not reaching her eyes as they met his for the first time. The bolt that hit him this time almost rocked him on his feet.

      Those eyes. Those intense, luminescent sapphire blues. They were the same color of her eyes.

      It was really getting ridiculous how he was trying to find similarities between the two completely different women.

      “I hear congratulations are in order,” Scarlett murmured, her gaze flitting from his eyes to Megumi’s before he could hold it.

      It couldn’t be she was shy. This was a woman who knew her power over men, a power that must have been perfected through years of practice and exercised at will. He was certain there wasn’t a diffident cell in that voluptuous body. So why didn’t she want to look him in the eye?

      “Scarlett had a prior engagement.” Hiro turned to Scarlett, his gaze taking on a besotted edge. “But she still honored me with consenting to grace the ball.”

      “How could I not, when you organize the best balls in the northern hemisphere, Hiro?” Scarlett turned to Megumi with a warm smile. “Between you and me, I was hoping that by meeting the guests of honor of this ball, I might get my first invitation to a high-society Japanese wedding.”

      “If I’m invited—” Hiro shot Megumi a brief glance before resuming his adoration of Scarlett “—you certainly will be.”

      “We’d be honored to have you both grace the wedding.” Megumi felt nowhere her usual serene self, her words brittle, her expression forced.

      She didn’t like Scarlett? Probably not many women did. Scarlett must be an ego crusher, especially to those females who considered themselves beautiful. For she was magnificent.

      “I trust this is also Kuroshiro-san’s sentiment?” Hiro asked, turning his challenging gaze to him.

      In their previous meetings, Hiro had been reserved, but he’d made it clear their enmity would be kept to the financial battlefield. This time, though, he was struggling to hold back his aggression. Because he felt territorial over Scarlett?

      Not that she’d given Hiro any reason to fear him. She’d barely looked in his direction so far.

      Hiro, on the other hand, was still glaring at him, waiting for his corroboration. Raiden gave it to him with an inclination of his head.

      Megumi’s hand tightened. Was she urging him to vocalize his response? He knew he had to comply, or it would be taken as an offense. His silence so far had been bad enough.

      He didn’t feel like making a response. Right now the only thing he felt like doing was snatching Hiro’s arm off Scarlett’s waist and dragging her away from him.

      Still, he said, “Matsuyama-san, Ms. Delacroix, your presence at our wedding isn’t only our privilege, it’s a necessity.”

      His deferential words didn’t seem to appease Hiro. The man’s response was perplexing, since Hiro had not only insisted on holding this ball, but had brought to his attention the very woman he was visually wrestling him over.

      Thankfully, the stilted meeting came to an end shortly afterward, and Hiro and Scarlett moved on. Raiden forced himself not to watch them walk away. Not to watch her. But he could no longer bear having Megumi by his side.

      Looking down at her, he tried to smile, failing this time. “If it’s okay with you, Megumi, I’ll now take advantage of your kind offer to go make the rounds.”

      “Of course.” Megumi stepped back, looking as relieved as he felt to finally separate.

      Walking away, he forced himself to stop by a few congratulators. As soon as he saw an opening to get out of the ballroom, he took it. On his way out, he again saw Scarlett. She was heading out, too. Even from the back, and from a distance, the sense of familiarity swamped him all over again. The same intensity he’d experienced when he’d first seen her.

      Her. That was how he’d always thought of the woman he’d known by the name of Hannah McPherson.

      He’d met her in New York one bright summer afternoon five years ago, when she’d swerved her car to avoid hitting a reckless biker and crashed into his car instead.

      From the moment she’d stepped out of her car, everything else had ceased to matter to him. The inexorable attraction he’d felt toward her had been something he’d never thought he could experience. He’d always told her she’d literally crashed into his life, and pulverized all his preconceptions and rules.

      Ignoring his usual precautions, he hadn’t even performed the most basic investigation on her. It had been through her that he’d known her to be a kindergarten teacher by morning, and a florist who ran an inherited shop by afternoon.

      When he’d taken her out that first night, she’d made it clear it wouldn’t go any further because he inhabited a world alien to hers. She hadn’t budged when he’d insisted that attraction like theirs bridged all differences. It had taken their first kiss for her to capitulate, concede that what had sprung between them had been unstoppable. And from that first night, he’d plunged with her into an incendiary affair.

      Then after five delirious months, a single inexplicable discrepancy had led him to unravel an ingeniously spun web of fraud. And to an appalling verdict. That her identity had been manufactured just prior to meeting him.

      It had all been a setup. Starting with the accident that had brought them together. She must have been sent by some rival to spy on him. And in their intimacy, he’d left himself wide-open. Whatever she’d been after, she could have found it.

      But since no one had used privileged information against him yet, either she hadn’t found what she’d been looking for or she was waiting for the right time to leverage her intel from her recruiters. Or him. Or both.

      Pretending to be oblivious until he’d decided how to deal with her, he’d called her. She’d been her usual bright, eager self at first, then as if hearing through his act, her voice had changed, becoming a stranger’s. Then she’d asked if he preferred she called him Lightning, or if he’d left that name behind when he’d escaped The Organization. And he’d realized it had been far worse than his worst fears.

      It hadn’t been corporate espionage material she’d managed to get her hands on, but his most lethal secret. His previous identity. And she’d known its value, its danger. That its exposure would bring The Organization to his and his brothers’ doors. The Organization that needed them all dead.

      His blood had frozen and boiled at once as she’d said it was just as well he’d brought the charade to an end so she could make her demands. Some money in exchange for her silence.

      “Some money” had turned out to be fifty million dollars.

      Enraged, he’d assured her he didn’t negotiate with blackmailers. He took them out. So it was in her best interest to keep what she knew to herself.

      Unfazed by his threat, she’d said he’d never find her to carry it out, but that she’d had no wish to expose him, just needed the money. It was pocket change to him, so he should just pay without involving payback or pride. He also shouldn’t fear she’d ever ask for more or hold her knowledge over him in any other way. Once the transaction was complete, he could consider that she’d never existed. As she’d never truly had.

      Though bitterness and fury had consumed