Ruthless Dynasty: A Steamy Mafia Suspense Romance, page 1
Contents
Title Information
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chatper Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenity-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
A Note From Maggie
Recent Titles
RUTHLESS DYNASTY
by
Maggie Carpenter
Copyright © 2021
Dark Secrets Press and Maggie Carpenter
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Dark Secrets Press LLC.
Cover Design by Fantasia Frog Designs
https://fantasiafrogdesigns.wordpress.com
CHAPTER ONE
Screeching her Mercedes to a stop in a parking space clearly marked RESERVED, Melinda Davenport climbed out, hit the remote to lock her car, and marched towards the double glass doors.
“Hey, you can’t park there!”
Looking over her shoulder she saw a young man dressed in an ill-fitting uniform running across the parking lot.
“I just did!” she spat, not pausing her step. “Touch it and I’ll sue you and the fucking company you work for.”
His lack of response and look of shock on his face told her he wouldn’t go near it, but she didn’t care if he did. She had far more important things to worry about. Marching confidently through the double glass doors, she swept past the lobby guard to the elevators, her glossy red high-heels clipping on the marble floor.
“No, wait,” the guard yelled. “You have to sign in. Where are you going?”
“To tell the devil to stick his pitchfork up his ass,” she shot back, stepping into the elevator.
“I have to—“
“Oops, too late,” she declared, staring at him as he helplessly watched the doors close.
The express elevator whisked her up to the top floor where Blake Remington ruled his kingdom. As the ding announced her arrival, she hoped she’d interrupt something important, and it was likely. He wasn’t expecting her, and he was always in a meeting. Stepping out and ignoring the pretty receptionist’s welcoming smile, she strode down the hall.
“Um, you can’t—“
“I can and I am,” Melinda replied without turning around.
Bursting through the double doors at the end of the hall, she entered Blake’s lushly appointed executive suite, and strode past Muriel, his executive assistant.
“Miss Davenport,” the woman exclaimed, taking off her glasses. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Remington is in a—“
“Meeting? Excellent,” Melinda replied briskly, continuing to the door that led into his inner sanctum.
Charging into the sleek, expansive office, she saw her nemesis exactly where she’d hoped he’d be. Sitting in the conversation pit speaking to several men.
“Hello, everyone. I’d introduce myself but I don’t have the time,” she announced as she approached. “I’m afraid you all have to leave. I must speak with Blake on an urgent matter.”
As Blake rose to his feet, to her dismay he didn’t challenge her or order her out, and there was no angry scowl crossing his forehead. Even more irritating, he looked ridiculously handsome. It would be much easier to see him as the devil he was if he had ugly features. Instead, his mop of dark hair highlighted his crystal blue eyes, and his hand-tailored suit did nothing to hide his muscled physique.
“Melinda, what a pleasant surprise,” he said, his lips curling in an enigmatic smile. “Gentlemen, my apologies,” he continued, turning back to face the solemn group. “I’m afraid we’ll have to reconvene.”
Though the men shared confused glances, they wordlessly rose to their feet and filed past her to the door.
“You don’t need to say a word, Blake!” she snapped as it closed shut behind them. “I’m not signing your fucking contract! You’re not getting my company. That’s it. End of story.”
“Not a problem,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders and stepping closer to her. “I’ll just wait until you go bankrupt then pick up your assets for pennies on the dollar.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time, asshole.”
“I’d say three months, four tops,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “You’re already up to your eyeballs in debt, and there’s no chance of another loan. The only way you’ll save that cute ass of yours is to win the lottery, and you’ve got about as much chance of that as you have reserving a seat on Musk’s mission to Mars, if he ever gets there.”
Furious and frustrated, she slapped him across the face, then took great satisfaction watching the red mark bloom on his cheek. But as his eyes narrowed, a chill pricked her skin. Before she could move away he grabbed her arm, jerked her forward, and delivered a hard smack on her backside.
“How dare you!” she railed, struggling to pull away from his strong grip.
“I’ll always return the favor,” he growled, tightening his fingers. “Get it through your head! You lost! Sign the paperwork, take the money and run. You know you won’t get another offer.”
“Why are you such a bastard?”
“If I was a bastard I would have waited until you went under.”
“Bullshit. You want my company now or you wouldn’t have sent me that proposal. Why? Tell me!”
“I don’t have to tell you anything, and your time is up. Be a good girl and play nice or you’ll end up with nothing.”
“If you had a heart you’d—“
“Enough! Barging in here was ridiculous and immature. Did you really think breaking up a conference and throwing a temper tantrum would change my mind?”
“I did not throw a tantrum.”
“Yes, you did, and embarrassed yourself in front of some relatively important people.”
She took a breath.
It was time to change tactics.
“Blake, can’t you just lend me the money and guide me out of the mess?” she asked, softening her tone. “There must be some way we can work this out.”
“Ah, I see,” he muttered, raising his eyebrows and finally releasing her. “Maniacal indignation didn’t work, so now you’ve moved on to soulful eyes and piteous begging.”
“I don’t understand. Why do you want my little company? You could start your own in a heartbeat.”
Abruptly turning, he strode across the office to his ornate, antique desk and sat down. Feeling foolish standing in the middle of the spacious office, she followed and settled into one of the chairs across from him, then realized she’d done exactly what he’d wanted. Without uttering a word he’d controlled her.
“Melinda, I admire your passion,” he began, making her stomach flip as he stared at her. “It took guts to come in here. I could have called security, or pulled the deal out from under your feet. What you did was risky. Granted, it was childish, but it still took moxie.”
“What’s your point?” she asked brusquely, wishing he didn’t look like a hot model from a man’s fitness magazine, or the hunky Romeo on cover of a romance novel, or—
“There may be a way…” he muttered, snatching her attention.
“A way to do what?” she asked, her heart skipping as she dared to hope.
“Allow you to keep your company,” he replied thoughtfully, bringing the tips of his fingers together in front of his face and lowering his eyes. “Yes, it just might work.”
“What, tell me, what?”
“First, no more histrionics,” he said abruptly, darting his gaze up to meet hers. “I’m about to make you an offer, but one whiff of temper, one sarcastic comment, one childish response, and we’re done. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Blake,” she managed, trying to stay calm though she was bursting to hear his idea.
“If you accept, you won’t just retain your ownership. I’ll pay off your debts and invest a significant amount to give you a boost. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be back if you screw up. Are we clear?“
“Holy crap. Yes, definitely clear, except…you still haven’t told me why you want my company.”
“That will remain confidential for the moment, though, I can tell you why you’ve ended up in this hole.”
“Uh, okay.”
“The key to success is doing one thing better than anyone else, or at least, extremely well, and you—.”
“But you’re involved in a hundred different things,” she protested, cutting him off. “You’re in real estate, retail, entertainment, the list goes on and on.“
“Wrong, and don’t interrupt me again,” he scolded. “I’m a businessman specializing in real estate. Yes, I buy companies in trouble, but I turn them over to highly qualified people. Do I keep my eye on the bottom line? Of course, and if it doesn’t measure up, they’re out and I bring in someone else. You’re a very talented designer, and I’m sure, when you look around this office, you imagine all the things you’d suggest if I hired you. Right?”
“Yes, absolutely. This desk, it’s not right. It should be sleek and modern, not something out of Edwardian England, though I do like it.”
“Interesting,” he remarked with the hint of a smile, “but getting back to where you went wrong. You had no business believing you could run an architectural firm, a fabric company, and a furniture store, all by yourself.”
“I have managers!” she retorted, hating the red blush she could feel crawling across her face.
“The thing about managers is,” he said, leaning across the desk and fixing her with an unwavering gaze, “you have to let them manage, not constantly interfere.”
“Yeah, but—“
“Stop right there. That’s where you live. The yeah, but, zone. Someone makes a suggestion, and that’s the first thing you say. Melinda, you have to let people sink or swim. If they sink, they’re out and you bring new blood. There’s nothing wrong with offering an opinion, but that’s all it should be. An opinion. I’ve done my homework. Your constant need to call all the shots, all the time, and your refusal to listen to the very people you brought in to make projects successful has been your downfall. To speak plainly, your ego got the better of you.”
Embarrassed and stunned by his lecture she could think of nothing to say. Even worse, she realized his accusations were true.
“Ah, you’ve just seen the light,” he declared, sitting back in his chair. “If you decide to accept what I’m about to offer, you’d better change your ways. You won’t get another chance, not from me, not from anyone.”
“I’ll-uh-I’ll bear that in mind.”
“Coffee? Tea? Water? You should have something.”
“Tea, with milk and sugar. Irish breakfast if you have it.”
“I have everything,” he said with a wink, pressing a button on his desk. “Muriel, a pot of Irish breakfast tea, milk and sugar and two cups.”
“Right away, Mr. Remington.”
“Blake, why have you changed your mind?”
“I haven’t changed my mind, and you need to prepare yourself. Whatever you think my reasons are for what I’m offering, you’re wrong.”
As she tried to decipher what he’d just said, he abruptly rose from his chair and strode across the room to a large painting of a yacht sailing through whitecaps. Placing his palm against a wood panel next to it, the painting slid sideways. Though his body hid what he was doing, it was obvious he was opening a safe. When he turned back to face her, he was holding a file folder, and the picture slid back into place.
“Your tea, Mr. Remington.”
Shifting in her chair, Melinda watched Muriel walk in carrying a tray.
“Melinda, over here,” Blake ordered as his assistant placed it on the coffee table in the conversation pit.
As Muriel left, Melinda moved quickly to join him, choosing to sit in one of the armchairs rather than the couch next to him.
“You pour and I’ll talk,” he directed. “Save your questions until I’m finished, and as I said earlier, prepare yourself.”
Opening the folder, he handed her a single sheet of paper, and she immediately noticed a familiar name at the top.
“Riccardo Campano,” she mumbled, then glanced down at a list of charities and organizations.
“Have you ever met him socially or otherwise?” Blake asked. “Would he remember you if your paths crossed?”
“Yes, I knew him when I was in college. The last time I saw him was a couple of months ago at a charity polo match. I think you were there too,” she remarked, recalling how attractive he’d been in his khaki slacks, white shirt, and a forest green sweater around his shoulders. She also remembered a beautiful redhead draped around him.
“Yes, I was.”
“Blake, will you please tell me what this is about?”
“You may have heard Riccardo Campano has just purchased a six-thousand square foot penthouse at Arlington Towers, the new luxury complex downtown.”
“Naturally, it was in the papers. He paid a staggering amount.”
“Did you know he’s started looking for a designer?”
“Uh, no. Are you suggesting I put my name forward?”
Before he could answer, she heard a chirping sound.
“Excuse me,” Blake said, quickly lifting a cell phone from his pocket. She watched him glance at the screen, then rise to his feet, smiling as he walked away. “Hello, Brenda.”
His voice had changed.
It was warm and smooth.
Though she pretended to study the paper in her hand, she listened intently. The conversation was short, but it was clear he was meeting Brenda, for dinner. Looking up at him as he returned, an unexpected pang of jealousy rippled through her body.
But she caught herself.
Though he was ridiculously handsome, oozed power, and carried a seductive twinkle in his eye, he was the devil incarnate
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” he exclaimed as if their conversation hadn’t been interrupted. ”Land the contract to decorate Riccardo’s penthouse. But there’s more to it. Once you get the job, do what you must to insinuate yourself into his life.”
CHAPTER TWO
It was almost a year since Blake had first laid eyes on Melinda Davenport. He’d been sitting in the Lapidus Bar in Miami when she’d waltzed past wearing a bright yellow, silk sundress. His eyes had caught sight of her curvaceous backside seductively apparent beneath the thin fabric, then he’d traveled his gaze down her long, tanned, naked legs.
As he’d watched her sit at a table with six other people and take command, he’d sensed her self-importance. All he could think about was stripping off the fuck-me-now dress, throwing her over his knee, and spanking her until her supercilious attitude became one of soft submission.
Finding out who she was had been a piece of cake.
To his surprise and delight he’d learned they both lived in Beverly Hills. Calling in favors from several of his trusted contacts, he’d made it a point to run into her at various events. She’d maintained an aloof distance, but he rarely saw her in the company of the same man twice, causing him to believe her attitude wasn’t due to a relationship. When he researched her design company, he was surprised to discover she was sinking.
He’d decided to throw her a life jacket.
She’d grabbed hold, and months of tense negotiations had begun.
Now she was at his mercy.
Though she’d been difficult through the endless meetings, and there were times he’d been tempted to walk away, his attraction to her gathered steam.
She was under his skin.
He wanted her.
All of her.
And he was sure she was equally drawn to him.
But their subtle, seductive dance had stalled.
Then out of the blue, an opportunity presented itself.
A way to get inside information on Riccardo Campano’s business affairs, and break through Melinda’s icy shell at the same time.
Now he’d laid out the compelling offer, and sipping his tea as he studied her, Blake knew it was one she couldn’t refuse.
“I’m willing to give it a try,” she finally declared, lifting her eyes, “but there’s only so far I’m prepared to go. The obvious question is, once I’ve—how did you put it? Insinuated myself? What is it you want me to do?”
“I’ll answer that if he hires you,” Blake replied. “You can expect a call or email from his office in the next few days.”
“I don’t have to approach him?”
“No, someone will suggest you for the job.”
“Who?”
“That’s irrelevant, all you have to do is win him over.”
She didn’t say anything, but leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.
They were encased in enticing, black, sheer stockings.
He could imagine the lacy garter belt holding them up, and the matching panties, probably French cut. He’d peel them off…slowly. His cock stirred and he let out a sigh.
