One Night Of Consequences Collection. Annie West

      “How would I know?”

      She whirled on him, blinking once, then again, before she saw him in the gloom. The shadows fit him well.

      “Don’t lie to me,” she said. “You must have paid someone at the Chateau to do your bidding. Someone who would forge my name on documents so nobody would question why my stocks were offered to you, making your takeover complete.”

      “I don’t resort to underhanded dealings.”

      She jerked her chin up, willing him to read the movement as defiant. Livid. “Just kidnapping?”

      “Don’t bait me, ma chérie.”

      “Why not?” She moved toward him, trembling with anger as well as anxiety, tired of his bullying. “You stripped me of my home and my job. My dream. I have nothing left to lose.”

      “No?”

      He flung an arm around her and jerked her to him. Her breasts flattened against his chest, her stomach rubbing his taut belly. His powerful arms banded hers to her sides.

      His captive. His desire. His!

      She felt his dominance in every breath he took. Felt his savage need course from him into her, fueling her own wants which she could barely contain.

      Kira knew the folly in trying to break free, so she stood as stiff as a statue and braced herself for a kiss meant to dominate. To punish.

      Let him take. She could give no more.

      For surely an arrogant man like André, who was this close to the edge, would take her now? He’d be driven to punish her for challenging him. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he controlled everything about her.

      Like the last time they’d ended up entwined in each other’s arms? Making love with a fever that had threatened to consume them? That had created a life?

      His head bent to hers, slowly, his gaze afire with need and something else she couldn’t recognize. She trembled, wanting him so badly she shook.

      But she had to be strong—for her child. For her self-respect. That was all she had left. Kira turned her head, denying him.

      Instead of his expected spate of anger, one strong, masculine hand slipped between their bodies and splayed on her belly. Tremors coursed through her with terrifying force, mocking her with a sense of rightness she was loath to admit. Firing her blood and her anger in turn.

      But it was her heart that paused, warmed, softened. For surely that protective palm, pressed where their child thrived, meant he cared?

      “I will file for complete custody,” he said, his lips grazing the tender skin behind her ear. But instead of heat, she felt chilled to the bone.

      He couldn’t be that cold. That heartless. Yet he wasn’t a man to make idle threats either.

      “You can’t mean that,” she said.

      “But I do, ma chérie. The baby binds us together now, but after the birthing that will change.”

      The forewarning speared her heart and soul, honing her maternal instincts to protect her baby however she must. How could she have thought she had nothing more to lose? That she had a chance for a future with André?

      She’d do anything to keep her child. Anything.

      She would not lose this battle.

      Kira turned her head, her gaze seeking his in the minimal light. His resolute features confirmed he knew her weakness as well. And he knew how to use that against her.

      Certainly whoever had sculpted his beautiful mouth had seduction in mind. She felt her own lips tingle, remembering the firmness of his mouth molded to hers, the provocative bow that tickled and teased and tempted her to shed her inhibitions. She had only to shift a little and lift her face to his to steal a kiss, to take the initiative again. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. But, oh, how she longed to!

      And his eyes—my God, she could drown in their mesmerizing depths.

      “You can’t seriously mean to take my child from me.” Because it was wrong and cruel. Because it would kill her to be cut from her child’s life.

      “It is for the best,” he said, his voice lethally low and as impassive as his gaze. “I am wealthy and can provide for my heir.”

      “I’ll fight you.”

      “You will lose.”

      She didn’t doubt that he was right, that he’d pull strings to get his way. But she wouldn’t capitulate either. Not on this. Not ever.

      “Then I’ll seek joint custody—”

      “No. After this reckless stunt you pulled today, you can’t be trusted to care for my baby.”

      Unbidden tears stung her eyes and she looked away, feeling frantic now, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d brought her low again. She gathered her courage around her, ready to plead with him to have a heart, then reminded herself he had none. For no man possessing compassion would attempt to rip a child from his mother’s arms.

      “I’ll fight you until my very last breath,” she said again, her fingers bunching his wet shirtfront. “I’ll never willingly give up my child.”

      A charged silence rebounded off the cave walls, the tension punctuated by the rain that had reduced to a gentle patter, as if hushing to hear what he’d say. But time crawled by and he didn’t respond. Didn’t so much as move a muscle.

      Slowly, sunlight crept into the cave, as if the heavens were rolling up their blinds. Even the air had become heavy and still, as if holding its breath in anticipation of his reply.

      “Nor will I,” he said at last, his arms tightening a fraction in a parody of a hug before releasing her.

      Kira stepped away from him, knowing things would only get worse when the truth came out, certain that whatever bargain she struck with André must be done soon. “I’ll never accept being a passing moment in my baby’s life.”

      Some emotion flickered in his eyes—something beyond hate or lust or cold calculation. Something that gave her a thin thread of hope. She grabbed onto to it and held tight.

      She trusted that André would never be so cruel as to rip her baby from her arms, from her heart. But if she was wrong…

      André ran a hand over his hair, slicking the wet strands back off his tanned brow, his features unreadable as he motioned to the cave entrance. “It’s time we returned to Petit St. Marc.”

      “How?”

      She doubted she had the strength to paddle the kayak back to the island, even if she could find it. Most likely the small craft was lost to the sea.

      “With luck, my Jet Ski rode out the squall.”

      “And if it didn’t?” she asked.

      He lifted one broad shoulder in a negligent shrug and left the cave. She took a deep breath, stretching her hands forward and then tightening her fingers into fists. Once. Twice.

      But it did no good. Her hands still trembled, her stomach still pitched, and her heart still ached with old worries and new. For if she couldn’t reach his heart, she’d have to escape the island before her baby was born. She’d have to disappear. Start over. Hide the rest of her life. For a man like André would never let her best him.

      Kira quit the cave and stepped onto the rain-soaked black sand beach. As she’d expected, there was no sign of the kayak.

      Its burial at sea was fitting, since a pirate had seized control of her hotel. Her life. Her future.

      Out with the old.

      In with the new.

      Her gaze flitted to André, knee-deep in the frothy surf, inspecting a long, sleek Jet Ski. His hair