Mistress By Blackmail: International Billionaires I: The Italians Read Online Free PDF

marriage—and I’ll be gone from here in a flash.”
    Turning, he glared at her. Her hair was mussed by his hands. Her eyes were huge and blue in her delicate face. Her lips were plump and puffed from his brief kiss. His burning anger mixed with an aching lust. She forced him to use his last cruel card. So be it. Why was there some primal part of him taking delight in breaking her to his will? “You leave me no choice.”
    Her dainty eyebrows frowned. “What do you mean?”
    “I am done trying to reason with you.”
    “This is your idea of reasoning with me?” She huffed. “Issuing commands I’m supposed to follow? Stealing a kiss when I don’t want anything to do with you?”
    “I am afraid I will have to disappoint you on your wish to have nothing to do with me.” He stepped behind his desk and lifted the folder. Slapping it down, he pinned her with an icy glare. “For the near future you will be with me all the time.”
    “I will not.” Her pointed chin jutted.
    A harsh laugh escaped him. “From this point on, Ms. Moran, you will do exactly as I say.”
    “Ha!”
    “I will take great pleasure in seeing this happen.” He shoved the folder towards her. “Some light reading for you.”
    She eyed it with distrust. “What is it?”
    “You wish me to translate once more?” He sat down in his leather chair, his eyes never leaving her. “The report is about your father.”
    Her lithe body froze. “How do you know my father?”
    “I don’t know him. I know of him.”
    She gave him a nonchalant wave of her petite hand. But he was not deceived. She vibrated with unease and she no longer met his gaze. “So?”
    “Sooo.” He drawled out the word. “He is in trouble.”
    “Oh, no.” Her head jerked up from her contemplation of his carpet.
    “This is not the first time, is it, Ms. Moran?”
    She stared at him as if he were a rattlesnake ready to strike.
    He obliged her.
    “My security team has determined your father is neck deep in a heroin ring.”
    “Bloody hell. I told him I would give him some money—”
    He snorted in disgust. “You are naïve if you think the tiny amount of money a starving artist can give is going to be enough to feed a heroin addiction. Your father is dealing to feed his habit.”
    “I thought he’d finally made a decision—”
    “Don’t be a fool.” His tone was overly harsh yet he couldn’t seem to help himself. Frustration and anger still simmered in his blood. He craved her submission, her defeat, with a ferocity that surprised and stunned him. Yet the craving compelled him forward. “Your father has two destinations. The one he takes will be determined by you.”
    “Me?” she squeaked.
    “ Si. ” Lust and fury roared in his head, in his heart, in his body. The passionate mix drove him to conquer. “My security team will either turn your father over to the police—”
    “No!”
    “Or deliver him to a recovery facility.”
    Dead silence answered his words.
    “A very expensive, successful recovery facility.”
    She stood rigid: her face white, blue eyes stark in contrast to her skin. He had a sudden desire to pace to her, sweep her in his arms, tell her he would protect her.
    However, this was not his goal or his duty. His duty was to his business, his family, his brother. She was merely an object of his fleeting desire.
    And his adversary.
    “Well, Ms. Moran? Which will it be?”

Chapter 3
    B eing treated like unwanted baggage was nothing new.
    As a kid, she’d always been treated this way.
    Still. It rankled.
    Darcy glanced across the long length of the limo seat. The Great Man ignored her. As he’d ignored her in the limo that drove them to Heathrow. As he’d ignored her on the long flight to New York. As he ignored her now. He’d been far more interested in his phone, which he was currently talking into, or his laptop, which he’d had in front of him the entire eight hours on the plane.
    She shouldn’t care. She should be thankful his attention