One Night Of Consequences Collection. Annie West

      Fast.

      Hard.

      Kira was his booty, fetched from the sea. His prize to savor. His to command. Yet the life within her tempered him like nothing else had. Life they’d likely created.

      She’d gotten to him, breached his defenses, made him deal with emotions he’d vowed never to feel. He hated the doubts that crept into his mind. Hated second-guessing himself. Hated that she had lied to him from the start.

      It would stop now.

      He wouldn’t be swayed by her excuses.

      He had to throw up walls again.

      He had to gain the upper hand.

      He had just the means to make her hate him.

      “You could have asked more for your shares, ma chérie,” he said.

      “Shares?”

      “Oui. Your stock in the Chateau.”

      He heard her breath catch, felt tension eddy from her in icy waves. “I didn’t put a price on my shares because they aren’t for sale.”

      Mon Dieu, was all that came from her mouth lies? “I received a call early this morning, giving me first chance to buy your shares. Just like Edouard’s were offered to me.”

      “This can’t be happening,” she said. “Who called you?”

      “It doesn’t matter.”

      “Yes, it does, because I won’t sell.”

      “You can’t change your mind now.”

      “I most certainly can. I never approved a sale. My God, I have to call my solicitor, stop this before—”

      “It’s too late. I paid your price,” he said. “As of an hour ago, Chateau Mystique is one hundred percent mine.”

       CHAPTER SIX

      KIRA moved toward the mouth of the cave, her feet leaden, feeling cold and hollow inside. She’d thought she’d survived the worst life could fling at her. How naïve she’d been.

      When Edouard had promoted her from hospitality manager of his elite Le Cygne Hotel in London to significant minority stockholder of Chateau Mystique, she’d been terrified and anxious. She’d wanted to please Edouard. Wanted to prove to him that she could run a luxury hotel, that she was worthy of his attention at last.

      But she’d barely settled in when tragedy had struck. A car accident had taken the life of Edouard’s mistress and left him in critical condition.

      That was when André Gauthier had struck, offering an outrageous sum for the whole of the Chateau. Edouard, through his solicitor Claude, had delivered a firm no—the Chateau wasn’t for sale. But André had persisted, and Kira had feared for Edouard’s recovery in the face of so much turmoil.

      She’d said as much to Claude, who’d quickly arranged that meeting between Kira and André on Petit St. Marc. A meeting André still swore he’d known nothing about.

      That was when she’d engaged in the most bracing debate of her life. That was when she’d lost a bit of her heart to André Gauthier.

      Not once had she surrendered her stance on the availability of the Chateau, but she’d caved to his sensual demands.

      The day after she’d returned to Las Vegas Edouard had died. Kira had mourned him in her own way, for though he’d been her father, she’d barely known him.

      He’d made it clear when she was very young that he would provide for her, but he’d never give her his name. He would keep her apart from his legitimate family—the two would never become one. She was never to admit her paternity to anyone, and if she did he’d disinherit her.

      She’d done as he’d asked because she’d been a child and alone. Because she’d known no better.

      He had educated her and given her a job at his London hotel, but the biggest surprise had come when he’d brought her to America and given her shares in the Chateau. He’d made it clear that this was all she’d get from him, and his own shares wouldn’t pass to her until his death.

      It had been enough. She’d had great plans to improve the hotel on the Vegas strip, and she’d had a chance to finally know her father.

      But tragedy had struck first. And now, through an act of deceit, André owned it all.

      And she had nothing but false promises.

      She stared out at the rain sheeting over the islet. Had the person who’d trumped up documents to make it appear as if she’d conspired with Peter Bellamy to ruin André also forged her name to dispose of her shares? Had they done the same with Edouard’s shares as well?

      Who had that much corporate power? Peter Bellamy?

      According to Edouard, when Peter had discovered Kira’s existence his legitimate son had resented her. Had her half-brother sought to ruin her? If so, he’d done a good job of it, for both acquisitions had gotten past Claude, her and Edouard’s solicitor.

      It could take years of litigation to regain her shares. She had no money. No resources. Nothing but a baby growing in her. While André had wealth and control on his side.

      How utterly foolish she’d been to think she could come to terms with him. “How much did you pay?” she asked.

      “You know the answer.”

      “How much?” she asked, her voice cracking.

      His pause stretched an eternity. “Two million.”

      A fortune. Her fortune.

      Kira pressed her head against the damp stone wall of the cave, feeling dry and burned up inside. Used and tossed aside like refuse.

      She doubted the funds had gone into her account. No, whoever had plotted this embezzlement would have escaped with it.

      Kira pressed a palm over the cold stone, so chilled by her bleak future that she barely felt the dampness seep deeper into her. She didn’t know what to do now. Didn’t know what she could possibly do.

      She stared at the rain coursing over the rocks, each droplet knowing its destination. Gravity guided it, though the water was happy to stay its course, to rush on and join a larger pool, its identity lost in the community of water, joining the mass for the common good of the sea.

      Kira envied those droplets, for as of now she had nowhere to go. No one to turn to for help. No family waiting to take her in. No purpose. Nothing.

      All because of a traitor at the Chateau and André Gauthier’s thirst for vengeance.

      She’d known André was ruthless, that he was a corporate raider who attained whatever he set out to conquer. He’d never lied about wanting the Chateau.

      But she hadn’t guessed he’d be so relentless in his pursuit of it. That he’d abduct her in his quest for vengeance, then cut her out of her inheritance without remorse. That it would be so easy for him to achieve his goal with the destruction of her own.

      Her own naïveté was much to blame, for she’d believed the trouble she’d faced at the Chateau had stemmed from a few disloyal employees who’d resented her sudden elevated status. She’d never dreamed someone was plotting her ruin.

      Or were they? Could she truly believe André? Had he paid the traitor to do this bit of nasty business?

      Her heart said no, that he’d simply been waiting for the opportunity to present itself. But her heart was too hungry for love to be trusted. Her heart was too open, too innocent—easy bait for the sly and cunning of the species. Like André?

      He had the power to engineer such a takeover. The ruthless