One Night Of Consequences Collection. Annie West

she needed to see the project through—if only for herself.

      She was just putting the finishing touch on it when her door opened. Assuming it was Otillie again, with more food or water, she continued working.

      His spicy scent enveloped her a heartbeat before his shadow fell over her. “Is this your renovation plan for the Chateau?”

      “Yes. I’ve been working on it for a month.” Likely wasted hours and energy—more dreams crumbling in her grasp.

      “I wish to study it.”

      “You’re the boss,” she said, trying for a light tone, trying not to feel excited that he was interested in her plans.

      If he noticed, he didn’t comment as she saved the file to a portable drive and handed it to him. That was when she looked up at him. His powerful aura always took her breath away.

      But tonight his dark hair was windblown, and there was a darkly intense gleam in his eyes. He looked as rugged and wild as if he’d just climbed down from the ratlines of a tall ship. And so sexy she trembled with renewed desire.

      “You seem pleased with yourself,” she said.

      “Oui. It’s begun.”

      She took a breath, afraid to ask. “What do you mean?”

      “Bellamy Enterprises.” He tossed the portable drive in the air and caught it, over and over. “I launched a hostile takeover bid roughly an hour ago.”

      The breeze drifting through the windows died to a whisper, as if awed by the power he’d wielded. Or perhaps, like her, simply stunned he showed no more excitement over destroying another man’s empire. No, not another man—her father.

      “You’ll control it all, then?” she asked, when she could trust her voice to remain steady. “Blend the two companies into a massive corporation?”

      “No. I’ll take the dozen or so properties that interest me and sell the rest.”

      She shook her head, admiring his cunning in the defeat of an adversary. “Peter will have to start all over to acquire half the wealth his father amassed.”

      “Oui. He’ll have to earn it.”

      Which he’d never done. Peter was the heir, whereas she’d had to prove herself to gain her shares in the Chateau.

      “Will I have to earn back my position at the Chateau as well?” she asked. “Or have you already dismissed me?”

      “I’ve not replaced you—yet.”

      She waited for him to go on, to give her an inkling if he would keep her on or let her go, but he simply stared at her, his expression closed. If he shut her out now—

      “Does it upset you that I’ve ruined Peter?” he asked.

      “No.”

      She was certain now that Peter was responsible for selling Edouard’s shares in the Chateau, and her own as well. She knew she’d gotten caught in a battle between Peter and André. She knew there was only one way to stop it.

      That was the story of her life. In limbo, with neither parent wanting her. She’d lived in the shadow of Edouard Bellamy and his son. She was tired of being a pawn in rich men’s games.

      That was what she’d been to Edouard. To Peter. And to André, she realized with a sinking heart.

      He’d forced her from the Chateau to break Peter, and he’d crushed her hopes and dreams when he’d seized control of her hotel. Now it was over—or nearly so.

      “If you are not grieving for your lover, then why do you look so sad, ma chérie?” he asked.

      Her lover? If he only knew—

      She shook her head, sighed. “Perhaps you are right. I am grieving over the fact that my lover believes I came here to ruin him, that I conspired with his enemy. I’m sad that he believes lies and discounts everything I say.”

      “The facts are black and white, ma chérie. They don’t lie.”

      She’d never win with him. Never. And that realization broke her heart all over again.

      “Let me go, André. There’s no reason for you to keep me—”

      “You are pregnant with my child.” He stood over her, as warm and welcoming as a marble statue. “Or is there something you wish to tell me?”

      Yes, I am Edouard Bellamy’s daughter! The unwanted, unloved, daughter of André’s enemy. Get it out in the open. Swiftly. Brutally. Like ripping the bandage off a wound. Then deal with the consequences. And there would be consequences.

      If she thought he loved her— If she believed that he could come to love her—

      “Answer me, Kira. What are you afraid of?”

      She looked up into his mesmerizing eyes and spoke with her heart. “That you’ll toss me aside after I’ve served my purpose to you, when you grow tired of me.”

      He stared at her a long, charged moment, his body impossibly stiff and unyielding. Then he drew her to him, his head bent so close to hers she saw an inferno of need blazing in his eyes.

      “I can’t imagine that day ever coming,” he said, and captured her mouth with a kiss that seared her to her soul.

      She could imagine it coming when she revealed the secret that was festering in her. He’d despise her. She’d be the enemy.

      But for the moment she was still his lover. She wanted him too much to spoil the moment with painful confessions. Just one more night together.

      Talk could come later, for it would signal the end she wasn’t prepared to make yet. Never mind André had used her—was using her now. She wanted him. She was using him to fill that void.

      And, most importantly, she loved him.

      It was that simple, and that complex.

      She’d pour everything she had into this moment, willing him to believe her, to look into her heart and see the truth. If only she could win his heart, his trust, then maybe the truth wouldn’t be so horrible to bear.

      And if she was wrong?

      She closed her mind to the crippling fear that his hatred would blind him to reason. Blind him to her.

      Nothing was stronger than love. She had to believe that.

      His long strong fingers entwined with hers as she drew near, the warmth of his touch melting her chilling fears. He brought her hand to his mouth, his eyes ablaze with passion. The kiss he pressed into her palm fired her with heat and she trembled with guilt and anticipation.

      He escorted her into his room and peeled off his shorts. Her body quivered at the sight of him, warmed her skin and her heart, for he was beautifully sculpted, his tanned skin stretched smooth over chiseled muscles gleaming like bronze.

      “You are magnificent,” she said.

      “I am just a man.” He took her clothes from her, then dropped kisses on the flesh he’d exposed. “But you are a goddess of pleasure and beauty.”

      His compliment needled her conscience, for she was a goddess who’d kept something vital from him.

      He trailed kisses up her arms, his breath hot against her skin, his body burning her where it touched. Hot, cold. Fiery passion, cold reality.

      She opened her mouth, guilt spoiling her pleasure. Her confession was poised on her tongue. But his mouth fused to hers, his kisses an addiction she could never get enough of.

      “Only in your arms,” she said. But how long could this passion last?

      A lifetime wouldn’t be long enough, she admitted, as his hands played a lusty symphony on her breasts while his teeth nipped at her collarbone, her neck. She clung to his