Captive Hearts (Hearts on Fire Book 2)

by L. M. Connolly

  She let the ramifications sink in. Joy that he might have made her pregnant, and despair that he couldn’t have done. “So, you think I could be pregnant.” She gritted her teeth. “You knew that and you agreed to a clean break?”

  “I always intended to contact you, but when I knew I wanted the Woodward, I decided to tell you to your face.” He frowned. “You’re in the hotel business. I thought you’d find out who I was easily enough and contact me if you needed me. Evan Cooper isn’t very far from Ethan Black. You knew what I looked like. I don’t hide away in a corner.”

  She blinked her tears of anger away. “And you thought I spent my days studying the social pages of the glossy magazines? It wasn’t fair, Ethan. You should have told me when it happened.”

  And he hadn’t because he was afraid she’d put the price of the hotel up.

  Well, she could deal with that. “That puts the price of the hotel up by another million.” An outrageous demand, but she didn’t feel like letting him down easy.

  He nodded. “Done. Does that mean you’ll marry me?”

  Marriage? Why would he suggest that? “Why? You don’t have to marry to become parents these days.” Again, she pushed down any expectation of pregnancy. She couldn’t afford to think about it.

  “Do you think you’re pregnant?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t feel any different. It’s not been long enough for—for me to know.” She didn’t have many periods. Missing one wouldn’t have raised any alarms for her.

  “Marry me anyway,” he suggested, his smile devastating.

  She couldn’t let him know how much he affected her, even now. “That’s enough,” she said. “I’ve learned that you’re the buyer of my hotel, that you’re Ethan Black, that you were playing me from the start. And now you think you might have made me pregnant?”

  Why should she let him off easily by telling him the truth? Her low fertility level had driven away one man. His reaction had shamed her. Since then, she’d kept the doctor’s advice to herself, and mourned in private.

  Her voice broke. Before he could do anything, she pulled her hands away and went to the door.

  “Wait!”

  The power of his voice halted her in her tracks.

  “Here.”

  She turned to find him behind her, holding two white packs. Pregnancy tests. It was real. He honestly thought he could have made her pregnant.

  “Take them. Find out for sure and we’ll go from there.”

  Although she took them from him, she didn’t move. Shock after shock had rocked her until she didn’t know if she could take any more.

  Without speaking, she spun around and left the room.

  *

  Scarlett went straight to her old room, now a mess of dust sheets and drilled-out plaster. The walls were half-decorated, the wallpaper falling away. Beneath, she got fascinating glimpses of old colors and even a scrap or two of paper. Restoring this house would be endlessly fascinating; uncovering her family’s history, digging into the records, finding out what the house looked like when her several great grandfather had moved in. If she took the job.

  How could she even consider it?

  If she signed the contract, she could do it. Unlike Ethan, she knew she couldn’t be pregnant. For a few seconds, she considered lying to him, telling him that she was, but no, she wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t demean herself just to get her own back on him.

  And right now she could look up Ethan Black on her phone. Now she had his real name, image after image poured out on the search page. Links to social networks and gossip blogs, thousands of them. She could understand why Ethan hadn’t believed she didn’t know about him. Of course she did, but Black was a fairly common name. At first, overwhelmed by seeing him again, being in the presence of the most devastating man she’d ever met, she hadn’t recognized its significance. Then she did.

  The Black family were akin to the Hiltons or the Sheratons. They were giants of the hotel world. To have one of them in her hotel, or as he had described it, ‘the Black,’ had stopped her mind from working for a full minute.

  She’d slept with him, for heaven’s sake. Laughed with him, let him scramble down to her filthy cellar and investigate the fire. Good grief. In most of the pictures he had men in black suits and sunglasses trailing him. Security. Why didn’t he have any now?

  She glanced out of her bedroom window. Oh, her error. A car was parked opposite the hotel, and if she wasn’t mistaken two men sat there, watching and waiting. A long black limo was parked in front of it. How the hell had they cleared two parking spaces here?

  And he wanted to marry her? That had to be a trick, although why, she couldn’t imagine. What could he possibly get out of that?

  She’d better get the first order of business over with. She’d welcomed the tests as a way to escape for a short time, to catch her breath, but the result was preordained. She took the white packs into the bathroom. Taking the tests took no time at all. When the first one came out positive, she shook and clutched the sink to steady herself. Then she did the second. Now she was really confused.

  Pregnancy would be more than she ever expected. After the debacle with Peter, she’d given up all idea of family and marriage, turning her attention to her career. In many ways, this hotel was her baby.

  Not anymore.

  She’d lost the hotel. Had she gained something infinitely more precious?

  When she walked back into the study Ethan had his laptop open again, and he was typing something into it. As soon as she went in and closed the door, he put the lid down and gave her his full attention.

  “Why would you want to marry me?” she demanded.

  “Are you pregnant?”

  She shook her head. “Answer my question first.”

  To her consternation, he smiled. A genuine smile, lighting his eyes and deepening the creases at the corners of his mouth. “I might have known you’d go to the heart of the issue. I’m attracted to you—very much. That’s real. You burn me up.”

  Sure, it was burning her up too. He could suck on that. She planted her hands on her hips and took a wide stance. “What else?” Because this man was tricky. He worked the angles.

  “Okay then.” He leaned back in her creaking chair and folded his arms. A defensive gesture, like the one she had used earlier. But he met her gaze directly. “My father agreed in the presence of witnesses to the budget for renovation to the London Noir—if I get married. He named two women I don’t have the least interest in, but he didn’t specify that I should marry one of them. Just that I marry.”

  “Would you have done so?”

  To his credit, he didn’t prevaricate. “Probably. Though the prenup would have been ironclad and it wouldn’t have lasted long. My father is keen on family. He believes in it, thinks families stick together. I’ll do it to save the group. I’m not looking for attachment or anything long-term.”

  That hurt. The cold-blooded description of an arranged marriage was bad enough, but to hear that he didn’t want “attachment” was worse. “Why not?”

  He shrugged. From what he said, the idea of a love match deeply disturbed him. Having done some research, Scarlett could have a few educated guesses about that. His father had married five times. That couldn’t have been comfortable for a growing boy.

  “I don’t want that kind of complication in my life.”

  Bullshit. He was avoiding it, like she’d avoided the topic of her infertility.

  On one point she wouldn’t budge. “If we have a child, I expect lots of complication. If you can’t love it, and give it attention, I don’t want you to have anything to do with it at all.”

  He tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking again. “I’m worth a lot of money. Would you deprive your child of that?”

  Your child. “No. But I also want any child of mine to be brought up in a happy, loving home.”

  He nodded. “That’s what I want, too. I’m capable of loving a child.”

  Just not that chil
d’s mother.

  He’d given her the upper hand in this, at least. “So, you want to marry me in order to avoid marrying someone you don’t like or don’t know. Why don’t you advertise, or use a matchmaker? Plenty of people do that these days.” She had to know. She wouldn’t marry anyone with a closed mind, determined not to let her in.

  Why would she even consider marrying him? But she was. The white wands she held in her hand had a lot to do with that. She must be mad.

  “Yes, I could do that. But when I met you—hell, why should I?”

  Before she had a chance to do more than take one step back, he was out of his chair and heading for her. Two strides brought him to her, near enough for her to feel his heat. He grasped her upper arms. “Deny that we don’t set the bed on fire. Deny that you still want me, because I sure as hell want you.”

  He brought his head down for a passionate, thorough kiss.

  She couldn’t not respond. As if he’d trained her, she opened her mouth to accept his tongue and hooked her arm around his neck. The relief was followed by a fast ascent to passion, and they were back in the world they’d created together less than a month ago. She moaned into his mouth and he responded by cinching her tighter. His erection became a hard, burning rod pressing against the soft flesh of her stomach, and she pushed back.

  Mindlessly, she ground against him, and he responded, wrapping his arm around her waist and urging her back against the nearest wall. He tore his mouth away from hers. They were both panting, as if they’d run a mile.

  “That’s why.” He growled. “Say yes and we can do this as often as we like.”

  She was trapped, but she reveled in it. “Even if I’m not pregnant?” If his offer wasn’t entirely dependent on having children, she could consider it. The seed growing inside her was too important to become a bargaining chip.

  “Even then. It doesn’t have to be forever. Just until I’ve wrestled the board into submission. Once I have my father’s vote.”

  “What about a baby?”

  He nodded. “Then it’s different. We have a whole new set of circumstances to discuss. I won’t abandon any child I make.”

  That was clear enough.

  He pressed a fast, hard kiss to her mouth. “Don’t argue with me. Just do it.”

  “That works for you? Demanding stuff?”

  “Usually.” With a rough laugh he broke away from her. Scrubbing at his hair, he went back to the desk, but instead of going behind it, he stood in front of it and folded his arms.

  “What about love?”

  “What about it? Don’t kid me or yourself into lying about that. My father declared undying love to five women and divorced three of them. The other died, and he’s still married to the last one. I like you, I have enormous respect for you—”

  He stopped when she laughed.

  “Really? You lie to me, you go to bed with me and then forget me? Where’s the respect in that? You even thought I might be pregnant and you don’t contact me?” She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Or that she was considering his outrageous offer.

  He swallowed. “I’m sorry about that. Really sorry. But truly, Scarlett, I never expected what happened between us to escalate so fast. It stunned me. Then I had an important board meeting, something that could have led to the decline of the Noir Group if I didn’t fight back to prepare for, and I had to put my mind to that. After that…” He shrugged, and turned his back on her, taking a few strides away, then coming back to her. “Yes, I avoided it. One thing at a time, I thought, but I swear, I always intended to get in touch. And I knew we would. Originally, I planned to keep you at arm’s length until you’d left. You’d never know who owned the Rouge Group, but you’d have the money and you could start a new life. But that wouldn’t work. Would it?”

  Their gazes met, intent and honest. When he looked at her like that she couldn’t doubt him. Maybe that was a fault in her, but if it was, she was glad she still had the ability to trust.

  And she understood. If she’d known who he was before, she might have cut him a little more slack. Lying to her was wrong, but the man she’d seen on the internet was surrounded by women, and demands from other people. The turmoil at the heart of the Noir Group was known, called the battle for control by the media. He must be besieged on all sides. Having a weekend to himself must have felt like bliss.

  Yes, he’d have contacted her, if only because he must know she’d realize his true identity eventually.

  “So, are you pregnant?”

  “I don’t know.” She’d brought the tests back with her, and now she produced them, slotted into the clear plastic tubes the kit had provided. In case they wanted to keep them as souvenirs, she supposed. She gave them to him. After a glance at her, he looked down. “Well, shit. One says pregnant and the other says not pregnant.”

  “Yep.” That had pissed her off, too. More than that, her reactions were too complex to describe easily. “Should we go out and buy another and decide on the best of three?”

  That made him laugh even as her heart ached. “No. The next step is to see a doctor. And visit a jeweler. Unless you want me to choose the rings and surprise you with them?”

  She held up a hand. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

  “But you will.”

  “You have to promise to tell me the truth from now on. No more lies. And I want to know what’s going on. I don’t want to be shut out.”

  “All right. I promise. No lies, no shutting you out.”

  After that demonstration of how fast he could fuel the attraction between them, she was nearly out of arguments. He hadn’t used a shell company, he hadn’t given her a low-ball offer for the hotel, even knowing as much as he did. Except for coming here under a false name, he’d played it straight. Until he’d slept with her and still not told her who he was. That still made her sore, but she could understand, even if she couldn’t yet forgive.

  “Yes. Probably. But I want to wait to take the final step. I want time to think. If I’m pregnant, I’ll marry you straightaway, because then there’s something more important to think about. Someone. Otherwise we can get engaged, if that helps you with the board.”

  He did the strangest thing. He drew her to him gently and gave her a chaste, sweet kiss on the lips. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

  Chapter Eight

  After that, events sped up. Ethan made a call and his lawyer arrived, with the witnesses.

  They explained the terms of the two contracts she was to sign. The first, to sell the Woodward. She signed that without thinking too much, because he was right, it was a done deal.

  The second was the six-month contract for her to supervise the renovation of the hotel. She signed that too, because why not?

  Then he asked for a prenup to be drawn up, rapidly sketching out the requirements. When he turned to her, lifting a brow in query, she couldn’t think of anything to say, or add to it. The speed of the transactions shocked her, but she would have a chance to read the prenup before she signed it. Or didn’t sign it. She’d bought herself time.

  He only had to lift a finger and people scurried to him. That kind of treatment wasn’t good for anybody. As much as she kept telling herself that it wasn’t her concern, she did worry about him. “How did you escape from your bodyguards when you came to the hotel?” she asked him when they were in his car, being driven to the London Noir.

  “I didn’t tell them where I was going,” he said simply. “They work for me, not the other way around. I know I need them, but I’m not completely helpless. I spent years without all that stuff. It was only when my father didn’t produce any more children that he realized my worth to him. And by then it was too late.” He bared his teeth in the semblance of a grin. “I’d learned to think for myself.”

  “What about your half siblings?”

  “They’re under five years old. I hardly know them, and in any case, they won’t be joining the business for a while.”

  “You told me your mother remar
ried. So at least you have a brother.”

  The car was crawling up Oxford Street, the privacy screen firmly closed. That meant he had plenty of time to talk to her. He turned his back on the bustling crowds outside the one-way windows, and faced her instead. “Yes, and I had a sister once, too. Have you read about my mother?”

  “Only the bare facts while I was waiting for the pregnancy tests to work. I don’t like gossip magazines and the gutter press, so I didn’t go there. I might be naive, but I do know that the press makes up stuff without proof, and they grub up all the sordid details they can find.”

  “It’s true,” he said roughly. “All of it is true. My mother left her first husband, came to New York, changed her name, became a model and married my father. She was on every billboard everywhere for a few years. You’ve seen pictures of her.”

  Even the respectable accounts showed pictures of Evangeline Miller flaunting everything she was born with. In a very artistic way, of course. And she’d been the favorite of a designer known best for her sheer gowns, hiding nothing. “If you have a gorgeous body, you might as well display it. It was her job.”

  “Oh yes, and if it went no further than that, I’d be okay with it,” he said grimly. “But she wasn’t above any kind of work, as long as it put her in the way of meeting her prey. People like my father, who isn’t a saint either. They married, and she got pregnant. Or she got pregnant and they married, the order I’ve always thought was the right one. When she left him a year later it was for Ronan’s father. She left him, too, but after six years. That seems to have been her maximum tolerance level.” His mouth flattened. “One night she told Ronan’s father she had a lover and she was leaving. She took our little sister. Spite, because she knew Ronan and his father adored the baby.”

  “That’s a bit harsh.”