Reclaim Me Page 2

  Allie couldn’t help but cringe at his word choice. Merger, not marriage. And certainly not love. To him their entire relationship had been nothing more than a business transaction, one her parents had shrewdly and callously negotiated to save Ingram Media from bankruptcy. Julian was chosen because he was the most desirable bidder in her father’s eyes, not because he loved her. All of it had been a fraud. From the day they first met until the night he proposed, everything about their courtship had been a carefully orchestrated charade.

  “I should be at the helm of Ingram right now. Not you and that stray who followed you home from the beach ten years later.” He took another sip of vodka and slowly licked his lower lip. “You must have been quite the fuck back then, because I certainly never experienced anything quite so . . . inspiring.”

  Allie had heard enough. “You’ve got what you wanted, Julian. I brought the ring back. Just give me the memory card and we never have to see each other again.”

  “Promises were made, Alessandra. Contracts signed. Money exchanged.”

  “I had my lawyer return everything you paid my father.” Her voice was small. The fact that her father had taken money from Julian made her feel like the whore he’d once called her, bought and paid for.

  Allie flinched at the sound of Julian’s fist pounding the desk.

  “You think that makes this right?” he shouted. His face was red and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

  A beat of tense silence passed between them.

  “Look around you,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “I don’t need your money. What I need is a high-level entry into the American market. A conglomerate to add to the Laurent holdings. What I need,” he snarled, “is Ingram Media.”

  Allie took deep breaths through her nose in an effort to slow her racing heart. Julian’s hair-trigger temper was amplified by the alcohol he was slugging back like water. She needed to remain calm, sympathize with him if that’s what it took. Anything to get the hell out of there. “I understand your frustration, Julian. But I don’t know what you expect me to do about any of this.”

  Julian composed himself almost as quickly as he’d lost it. With a final gulp he finished off the vodka. Slowly and methodically, he set the glass on the desk and leaned back in the chair, resting his elbows on the arms and steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. “It’s quite simple, Alessandra. You’re going to become my wife.”

  Chapter Three

  Hudson’s fist landed against the door like a sledgehammer. He was way past giving some dainty wake-up call, providing the jet lag had wiped out the redhead. And based on the number of times he’d knocked on the door, it had. As he stood there waiting . . . and waiting, he glanced up and down the hallway of the pricey establishment. A couple of silver trays were parked outside the room next to Harper’s, and a housekeeper was making her way toward him carrying a fresh load of towels. He waited for her to pass before pounding the wood again.

  The door finally swung open and the light from the hall sliced into the room. Harper’s lids squeezed shut against the blinding intrusion. Her hair was sticking up in every direction possible, and the second her eyes got with the waking up program, they widened. Goddamn, he thought they were going to pop out of her skull and roll across the carpet.

  “What are you doing here?” She tightened the belt on her white terry cloth robe as he pushed past her into the room.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “By all means,” she mumbled. “Come in.”

  “Where’s Allie?”

  “I thought she was with you.” She shut the door and finger-combed her hair. “I mean, aren’t you two in the middle of some over-the-top getaway?”

  “We should be having cocktails in London by now.”

  “Have you tried her cell?” Harper was doing her damnedest to avoid his direct line of questioning. He wasn’t surprised she was covering for Allie, but it was getting him good and pissed off.

  “Repeatedly. When did you last hear from her?”

  “She called me . . .” She rubbed her eyes, then paused and let her hand flop to her side, the cuff of her robe swallowing her hand. “Wait, what day is it?”

  “It’s the first of January,” he bit out.

  “She called me yesterday morning.”

  “What time?”

  Harper frowned. “Early. Well, here it was early. Like six, I think.”

  Hudson ran a hand through his hair while his mind recalibrated. He thought back to the previous morning on the train. Breakfast had been the first order of business after a night of unadulterated fucking on every surface of their cabin—against the cool window, his body pressed in behind her as they sped through the French countryside; on the floor, out of breath, but the thought of stopping a foreign concept wiped clean from their vocabulary; even those godforsaken bunk beds hadn’t been off-limits. On that train there’d been nothing but the two of them, even in a packed dining car. Or so he’d thought.

  “What did she say?” Hudson waited impatiently for Harper to fill in the blanks. Her eyes darted around the room as if the desk or chair, or maybe even the curtains, could help her out. Jesus Christ, she needed to cut the avoidance crap and start giving him information. “I know you think you’re protecting your friend, but she was supposed to meet me three hours ago and she never showed.”

  “Oh fuck,” Harper muttered as she sank down onto the navy-blue couch.

  “My sentiments. Talk.”

  “She wanted my help.”

  “With?”

  “She needed me to go to the brownstone and get something for her, said she’d have a ticket waiting for me at O’Hare and that she’d meet me at de Gaulle when I landed.”

  “What else?”

  “That was about it. The call was pretty short.”

  “And at the airport?”

  “Same thing. We only spoke for a few minutes.”

  Hudson knew she was telling the truth about the call at least; he hadn’t been out of the cabin for very long. But he also knew that once the two of them got going, it was as if they were setting a new record for most words crammed into a solitary sentence. She had to know more. But the redhead had gone from clammed-up to shell-shocked. “What did she say?” he prompted. “Walk me through the conversation.”

  “She was mostly thanking me and telling me about the reservations she’d made. Then she put me in a car and had the driver take me here. I should have called to check on her but I was so whacked, I passed out the minute I got to the room. Oh! Maybe she tried to call . . .” She shot up, snatched her cell off the table, and slid her thumb across the screen.

  “Back up. What did she want you to get?”

  Harper looked up and locked eyes with him. “Her engagement ring.”

  “Why the hell would she want that?”

  “She didn’t. Julian did.”

  “Come again?” How typical, Hudson thought, for Harper to leave out the biggest fucking detail.

  “He called her that morning, said he wanted it back and gave her some sort of ultimatum.” With a quick surge, Hudson strode to the window in an attempt to throw off his aggression. Every cell in his body screamed for him to pick up the chair, the lamp—hell, even the couch—and go all rock star on the room.

  “I told her this wasn’t a good idea and that you needed to know what was going on, but she said she could handle it and—”

  Hudson spun around. “Handle it?”

  “—that it would all be over in a few hours and then she could get on with her life and she’d never have to see that bastard again.” Harper’s words came out rapid-fire. “I’m so sorry. I should have never agreed to help her. I knew better than to trust that asshole.”

  He had his phone out before she’d even motored through her last sentence.

  Max answered the call on the first ring.

  “Bring the car around,” Hudson barked into the phone. “And I’ll need an address for Julian Laurent.” He started for the doo
r at the same time Harper began flinging clothes out of her suitcase.

  “Just give me a minute to get dressed.”

  “I got this.”

  “You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you walk out that door without me.” Harper’s brows were raised in a hard stare, her hands white-knuckling some colorful montage of clothing.

  He blew out a resigned breath. “Then get the lead out.”

  Chapter Four

  Allie was sure she’d heard him wrong. Julian couldn’t have possibly been serious. After everything that had transpired between them, there was no way he could have deluded himself into thinking she would actually marry him.

  “I want what was promised me,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “What I’m owed. It would have all been mine, everything: the cable network, the newspapers, the magazines. Merged with my Asian and European holdings, Ingram would have been a global leader.”

  “There are other media conglomerates, Julian.”

  He shook his head. “Not like Ingram. Their assets are unique.” His bloodshot eyes roamed over her. Even in the dim afternoon light she could see his pupils dilate. “And while it’s hardly a pedigree, the Ingram name is as close to royalty as Americans get.”

  “I don’t love you, Julian. And you’ve made it clear you don’t love me either.”

  “Love is for fairy tales, Alessandra. It has no place in the real world. I would have thought your mother taught you that by example if nothing else.”

  Allie stiffened. “I’m nothing like my mother.”

  Julian’s head fell back on a harsh laugh. “Are you really so blind as to not see it? You’re exactly like your mother. And I’m not referring to your looks, although I guess I should be grateful the trophy glitters.” He ran a hand through his light brown hair, which fell perfectly back into place. “If it helps you sleep at night, consider our marriage a chance for you to carry on her legacy.”

  “This isn’t the Dark Ages. You can’t force me to marry you.”

  “That is correct.” He stroked his lip with his index finger. “The decision is ultimately yours. Although if you defy me, that video will find its way to the proper authorities.”

  So this had been his plan all along. The race to return his ring was just the excuse to get her there so he could reveal his true end game.

  Twisted amusement lit his eyes. “Don’t look so shocked, Alessandra. You didn’t really think I’d give up so easily, did you?”

  “You don’t have to do this,” she said as if there were some way to reason with him.

  “That is where you’re wrong, ma cherie. You left me with no other option.”

  “Me?” The high pitch of her voice betrayed the raw emotions she struggled to control.

  “Oui.” His gaze turned impassive. “After all, you are to blame for the deal falling apart in the first place. All of this—” he waved his hand through the air “—is your fault. You brought it on yourself when you broke our engagement.”

  Allie looked down at her hands, balled into fists in her lap. “You attacked me.”

  Julian snorted. “How did you think I would react when I discovered my fiancée had been whoring her way through the city in my absence? You should have been grateful I was willing to look past your indiscretions, but instead you chose a man who quite literally had been your servant. Another lesson your dear mother should have imparted: the staff is for fucking in the shadows, Alessandra, not parading through the lobby of the symphony.” He rattled the cubes inside the empty crystal tumbler. “Shame, really. If you had just left well enough alone, none of this unpleasantness would have been necessary. You’d be living here as the new Marquise Laurent, quite literally the queen of the castle; your precious Mr. Chase and his deadbeat brother wouldn’t be on the proverbial chopping block; and your parents would still be alive.”

  Allie’s head snapped up. “What does my parents’ death have to do with any of this?”

  “Your parents wanted Ingram to remain in the family. Your father would have withdrawn his support once you called off the wedding, and without the blessing of the almighty Richard Sinclair, I didn’t stand a chance at convincing the rest of the board.” He leaned back in the leather chair and crossed his ankle over the opposite knee. “I needed someone in power who was a bit easier to control.”

  A cold sweat misted Allie’s skin. “What did you do?” she whispered.

  Julian leveled his beady stare. “Whatever it took.”

  No, no, no . . .

  “Once I ensured the Ingram-Sinclair holdings would be transferred to their sole heir, I simply turned to the seemingly illustrious Mr. Chase for a bit of leverage. I didn’t even need to dig too far. Covering up a murder?” The corner of Julian’s mouth twisted in a hideous grin. “It’s as if he handed you over on a silver platter.”

  Allie struggled to catch her breath while Julian gloated about orchestrating her parents’ murder as if it was a victory in a polo match. “Everything fell into place so easily it was almost boring, really. Other than the imbecile taking your mother’s ring as a souvenir.” He tsked. “As a professional, he should have known I couldn’t leave that type of loose end. Then again, having the ring in his possession when his body was discovered did a nice job of setting him up to take the fall. From what I hear, the police have all but closed the case.”

  The taste of bile rose in Allie’s throat, and for a moment she thought she might be sick.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like that drink now, Alessandra? You look a little pale.”

  Her mind spun as she struggled to process everything she’d learned, but one thing was certain: Julian had killed her parents in cold blood. Threatening to incriminate Hudson in a murder was only the tip of the iceberg. There was no telling the lengths he would go to force her to do his bidding. She was willing to do whatever it took to keep Hudson safe, but it wasn’t in her power to give Julian what he wanted. “The shares from the estate aren’t enough to give you control of the company,” she told him. “Hudson owns a considerable amount.”

  “I’m well aware of his holdings. And I’m also aware of his weakness for you. You’re his Achilles heel, Alessandra. It shouldn’t be too difficult for you to get him to sign over his interest in the company.”

  “How exactly do you expect me to do that?’

  “By ending your relationship.”

  “He won’t believe me.” There was no way Hudson would believe she was leaving him, that she didn’t love him. Or would he? She’d been so horrible to him when she’d discovered he was the one secretly buying up shares of Ingram Media in a hostile takeover attempt. And now if he thought she had left the country without him . . .

  “Convince him. Tell him you’ve had a change of heart, that you can’t forgive him after all, or that you’ve simply grown tired of him. I don’t care. But end it.”

  “He’ll fight for me.”

  Julian sneered. “I’m counting on that. Let him grovel like he did before, then you can give him the ultimatum. Make him prove his love by signing the stock over to you. It’s the decent thing to do seeing as how you’re Jonathan Ingram’s only surviving heir. Then, of course, you’ll deliver the final blow to his ego by joining my side in wedded bliss.” His words were a direct contrast to the bitter contempt in his tone. “And since you’ve already proven you can’t control yourself around the dog, let me make one thing perfectly clear. Manipulate him, Alessandra, but don’t fuck him. That’s a service reserved for your future husband.”

  “If you think I’ll sleep with you, you’re crazy.”

  “Contrary to what that mongrel may have told you, you’re not the lay of the century. Far from it, in fact. I have plenty of resources at my disposal to better meet those needs. You’ll sleep in my bed by invitation. The frequency will depend on how fertile you are.” He smirked. “And my mood, of course.”

  Allie gaped at him. “You expect me to have your child?”

  He rose from his chair. “Two. An heir and a s
pare, as the Brits love to say.”

  Allie shrank back as he rounded the desk. “Relax,” he said, his laugh mocking her fear. “No one shall call a Laurent a bastard. I won’t be taking you again until after the wedding.” He strolled past her to the row of crystal decanters and refilled his glass with a hefty pour. “Which brings me to the time frame. The annual shareholder’s meeting is in April, and my sources tell me the board is set to vote on a permanent CEO when they convene in March.”

  His sources? Allie barely had time to consider who at Ingram was funneling high-level information to Julian when he dropped another bomb on her.

  “We’ll need the ceremony to take place well before that meeting. Mid-February at the latest.” He cocked an eyebrow. “St. Valentine’s Day? Perhaps more fitting for the massacre than a diaper-wearing cherub, but apropos nonetheless.”

  “You want to get married next month?” she asked. Her voice was hoarse.

  “Oui. The arrangements won’t be a problem given that the plans were already in place. Most of them can be adjusted to the February date. At least enough to capitalize on the PR . . . I’m thinking something along the lines of ‘Dashing Prince Rescues Orphaned Heiress.’ Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

  Clearly he had lost his mind. But she had to play along. It was the only hope she had of buying the time she needed to figure a way out of this mess. “Why so fast . . . I mean, we have our whole lives, what’s the rush?”

  “We need to allow adequate time for the blushing bride to realize how much the company has suffered at the hands of a corporate raider and replace him with her new husband.”

  “The co-CEO idea was just for the interim, Julian. I don’t think anyone expects it to continue permanently, regardless of whom is sitting in that chair.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I have no intention of working alongside you.” He took a sip from the crystal glass. “Once we return from our honeymoon, you will have a change of heart, decide you have no place in the boardroom after all, and use your considerable stock percentage to vote your new husband into the position.”