Ruthless Financier (Steel Series Book 3)

by Victoria Pinder

  “Not in this case.” Fair assessment though. He probably thought being raised in love was a great thing. It wasn’t always, though.

  My mother had been so silently committed to her shelters, she had worked so hard, but she had no one to talk to. When my father died, she couldn’t figure out how to live without him. Then she lost hope and died, too. I took up the reins too late for her. I’d not lose sight of the real world.

  I swallowed and said only, “My father wanted to run his own business, but he needed to take care of us, and my mom, half the time, as she was a mess.”

  He scooted closer and my heart raced a little. “So?”

  “So I promised him on his deathbed, nothing would get in the way of me owning my own successful company. And I would look after everyone in the family,” I said.

  This was the Reader’s Digest version of events.

  “Your sisters are all adults.”

  “Background check?” I asked matter-of-factly. I’d run one on him a month ago.

  “Yes.” He shrugged, but then said, “You could have started on a shoestring budget and been successful. Even I’ve heard of your reputation.”

  If it was just me, yes. But I have two nonprofits to nurture, and cousins like Jasmine and Mary and their families to look after. And I’d not have the vast resources to cover both right away—until his offer. But I kept that quiet and said, “I want to own the best, not some small, struggling company.”

  He stared at me and for one moment I wondered if he’d believe me. But then he said, “Interesting.”

  I reached for his hand and ignored the sparks that rushed in me from the touch. “What does that mean?”

  He said, “Our childhoods were the opposite. My father didn’t care about anyone, except his company. He blocked my mother from getting jobs to punish her for leaving him, and didn’t pay child support, so we both starved. He had our landlords evict us, more than once. And he let my mother die because he refused to pay her hospital bills after they divorced. He figured if we died, he’d have less of a mess to clean up. And when I moved in with him, he told his investors that my mother had been the one to lie to him and keep me from him.”

  His story was more in line with what I’d seen in my life, working at the shelters. And that was why I needed to work so hard. I said, “I’m sorry.”

  His entire body froze except the lift of his chin. “Don’t be. He’ll be sorry soon enough, when I take his company from him.”

  Right. Mr. Ruthless existed for his own personal reasons, just as I was marrying him for mine. I stood to lead him out of the room for now so I could get ready. “Right. Well, where are we going for the ceremony?”

  He nodded. “Be ready in three hours. I’ll send a limo. I booked the Monte Carlo’s wedding chapel.”

  His people must have spoken to mine, as that matched the schedule Jasmine had left me. I saluted him as he walked to the door, but my lips tingled for another kiss. I decided to be bold and said, “I half wonder if your next kiss would be happy as fun as that first kiss was.”

  He took that as an invitation, which it was. The contract allowed me to indulge in my secret fantasies—like the one where he was the man I’d secretly wished for, even when I denied the idea. He made my skin blush without even touching me.

  As his lips met mind, his kiss knocked me for a loop and I was trembling in need.

  When it finally ended, he walked away like he wasn’t affected.

  I still had goosebumps and zaps of electricity in my veins. Hopefully the next few years would wash away this ache inside my soul for more of him. Once I’d had enough, I’d walk away like he did right now.

  My knees had trembled, but admitting that would change the contract. We were temporary, forever.

  Chapter 4

  Jacob

  I fixed my black tuxedo bow tie. I hated these things and would burn them if I could, but I learned the most useful tidbits when people drank champagne.

  This was a skill I’d honed to get my father’s investors to take me seriously, and still practiced—though I had little taste for anything that made me lose focus.

  When I closed my eyes at night, I remembered how my mother sang me to sleep as a boy, though I knew she shook from lack of nutrition. I used to sneak home an apple from the free lunch at school to feed her, though it was never enough.

  While my father, her ex, could eat and drink to excess then head home to his mansion.

  Heartless and selfish to the core. And I’d expose him.

  Everyone would avoid him once he lost his business. And without running his empire, he was nothing.

  So I used champagne as a weapon to gather intelligence at events that most people could never afford to get into.

  My father’s world was eventually going to be torched, and I was there to light the fire. He had more money than anyone could possibly spend, and yet my mother was buried in a pauper’s grave.

  And I knew what it was like to have nothing in my belly while my teachers paid my school lunch bill.

  Indigo’s life was the fantasy world I’d wanted as a boy.

  I learned as I grew up that power fed on fear. And since I could survive on nothing but my street smarts, the richest players in the world could do nothing to make me fold.

  Every step I took was one step closer to pulling my father off of his corporate throne. I’d let him suffer and know what it was like to be hungry.

  This was why I demanded that my wife, even a temporary one, had to be the model of a lady. Someone who wouldn’t cause anyone to note anything off center. and who would fit perfectly into my life.

  Until the sex scandal I’d never considered marrying anyone until I succeeded in my plans.

  If I had, I’d have approached Indigo very differently, as she had something that drew me to her like a magnet.

  But enough dawdling in my room preparing for this wedding. I cracked open my door and called my right-hand man these days who was waiting there for me.

  “Russ, did you get the file on Indigo Steel ready for me?”

  “Yes, it’s on your desk, sir.”

  I hated being called “sir.” That was my father. But Russ was excellent at his job and he said the name helped him remember his station.

  I paid him enough to have whatever he wanted, but he always stood like the former Navy SEAL he was. I closed the door and picked up the white paper with her name on it. It was next to the dossier on Sun and Moon Trust I’d been reading earlier.

  I quickly scanned the document. Indigo Steel, second oldest of six sisters … I chuckled and imagined six versions of Indigo. Damn. That would be almost too hot to be anywhere near. She was the sexiest lady I’d seen in the two months I’d been searching for a wife and checking out every woman who came near me. She was 100% sexier than any other woman I’d been with. No one made me forget myself in a kiss—until her. But I held in the desire and mumbled to myself, “She’s mine now and I can have my fill once we go through the formalities. Be patient.”

  My cock lowered a little at the command, but I meant what I’d said.

  She’d be mine.

  For now, I settled back to read more. Her parents took in multiple cousins and at least twenty Steels consider themselves immediately family, including Jasmine, her right-hand worker…

  I couldn’t imagine having a large family. I’d been alone, for as long as I could remember. I continued reading: mostly A’s for grades. I flipped the page. Worked at Benson PR for five years, promoted multiple times … I expected that, as her reputation was well known. But I tapped the page on the last tidbit: Ran two nonprofit women’s shelters.

  Now that was interesting. And there might be more there on why she married me. I straightened my cufflinks that had my name engraved on them, and threw open the door to leave.

  As I walked out, I said, “Russ, get me the financials on the nonprofits.”

  “On it,” he said. He walked with me as my bodyguard through the hotel and ensured I entered the lim
o that waited for me.

  Frank was checking on my bride and would follow her to the chapel.

  A few minutes later I walked into the quaint, small chapel and looked around.

  My mother had always wanted me to marry in a church, but this model room was the closest she’d get for now.

  I remembered how, at night, she’d be on her knees in front of the cross on the wall, begging for help.

  I’d been too young to do much, then.

  On the drive, I read the text from Frank that told me Indigo was on her way to the chapel.

  For a second I saw a fantasy in my mind of her in a white dress, her lips curled in a smile like she truly was my one and only. She’d take my hand and mean forever when we said our vows, like we were meant to be.

  As the limo stopped, I shook that dream from my mind. There was no time for indulging in nonsense. But I said to myself, “You have more reasons than you’re letting on …”

  I wasn’t stupid. Indigo wasn’t marrying me because she was fighting some secret attraction, like I was. She had probably been pretending with those kisses that made my body soar. Twenty-five million was a lot of money for someone in the middle class.

  The number came out of her mouth so easily that I knew she had more than a business reason.

  I headed into the chapel and the music started.

  She must have arrived too. I took my place with the hotel minister and watched the aisle as photographers took my picture.

  Frank, Russ, and her young assistant, Ajax, were all seated.

  Her green-eyed cousin wore a green dress and walked down the aisle holding a bouquet of flowers.

  All three of the men paid her attention, but my gaze stayed on the doorway.

  This was the moment I had to remember for the next five years as I swore off all others. Indigo was smart, sassy and sexy, but I had no idea what she’d wear other than a “dress suitable for shared wedding pictures” as the contract stipulated.

  The air around me became lighter and, a second later, the music changed. Goosebumps grew on my body and my skin had pins and needles of anticipation.

  Finally she stepped through the doorway and I lost my ability to breathe.

  Her white dress made her angelic. Her skin glowed. And her curves had my arms aching to hold her to me and not let go. Indigo was beautiful in a way I’d not seen in another woman. She had iridescent blue eyes that seemed even brighter now. And the memory of her lips that tasted better than chocolate made my own tingle.

  But most of all, she had something else I couldn’t explain, something that had my hair standing on its ends.

  Indigo made me hunger for her in a way I never had for any other woman. Yes, I wanted to fuck her, right now, in that dress that showed off her curves, but I also just wanted to hold her hand and keep her close to smell her floral perfume and maybe listen to her pert opinions.

  And it wasn’t because her PR reputation was stellar.

  When she placed my hand on her back to hold her for a moment for a photo, it was an electric surge more than a simple shock that rushed in my veins.

  Then we turned to face the altar, but I couldn’t let her go.

  I wasn’t sure that mattered. Whatever the Vegas minister said, I wasn’t listening at all, until he pointedly stared at her and asked, “Do you take this man to be your husband?”

  “I do,” she said and cast her eyes down.

  My fingers twitched as I resisted the impulse to lift her chin. For now, I waited. The minister turned his attention to me and asked, “And do you take this woman to be your wife?”

  Desire to possess her roared in my blood, which wasn’t civilized at all. I said, “I do.”

  The minister, in his all-black outfit, said casually, “Then by the power vested in me, you two are legally wed. You may kiss your bride.”

  There was nothing casual about us, despite the minister’s tones. My mouth watered for another of her mind-numbing kisses that made my body ache in need.

  Without waiting for an invitation, I pressed my lips to hers. Her fingers curled in my brown hair. I went deeper and forgot where we were for a moment.

  It was like we were transported to another place, just the two of us, until the moment ended. My skin still stung. The rest of the world returned to color and I held her hand.

  We stepped away from the altar. I held her waist as I told Russ and her assistant, Ajax, “So let’s get Mrs. Donovan moved into my penthouse.”

  She glanced up at me, her lips curved. “Mrs. Steel-Donovan.”

  Sassy still. I liked that about her. I massaged her back slightly and said, “Fair enough. Get everything moved. We have dinner plans, alone.”

  Her eyes widened but she stayed beside me. “We do?”

  I saw her other assistant, Jasmine, right on our heels.

  “Did you expect your staff to stay the evening?” I asked.

  She shook her head no and the other woman stepped back.

  Indigo said, “No, I just didn’t know. Where are we going?”

  I winked at her and said, “I like to keep you on your toes.”

  “Okay,” she said warily. But she left with me.

  No one blinked at a couple in wedding clothes as we headed out to my limo. The driver already knew our destination and we arrived in a matter of minutes.

  As we stepped out of the limo and onto the street, more photographers took our picture. We smiled for them and headed inside to the elevators. Soon we’d be done with photos for the press and we could be alone, but for now everyone needed to know she was my wife.

  She laughed as she read the name of the restaurant, “The Top of the World?”

  I winked, “Well, it’s a name that matches the theme of my life.”

  We rode the elevator up to the top floor and walked into the restaurant. It slowly spun around, so we had a 365-degree view of Las Vegas and the desert. A hostess escorted us to my private dining room. Indigo didn’t break her stride as people snapped our wedding picture until we made it to the room.

  With a wink, she patted my cheek as she said, “That comment you made downstairs—there’s the Mr. Ruthless I’d read about, the one my PR firm intended to help.”

  My privilege was a fact of life. But I’d known life without any of the perks I now possessed. We were seated at our table and the doors closed, leaving us alone. She picked up her menu like she was ready to dine, but I asked her, “Wait, who calls me Mr. Ruthless?”

  She put the menu down and said, “It’s the moniker we gave your files when I was writing out a PR proposal for you.”

  The waitress came with our champagne. I ordered the prime porterhouse steak and she chose the crab-stuffed chicken dish. The waitress left and I met Indigo’s blue eyes, that were almost gray now.

  I said, “It was a good proposal, but mine was a better option.”

  “You convinced me.” She sniffed the air and picked up her champagne flute as she said, “And here we are.”

  I clicked glasses with her and we sipped. After we finished, the fire inside my blood that was usually reserved for winning my personal war, or for the bed, was already burning. I ignored it and instead gave her my smile that usually won people over to my side.

  “Tell you what,” I said. “You’re welcome to work for my organization directly, but if you want to start your own company, I’ll be your first client.”

  She raised her eyebrow and said, “But I stay independent, and president of Steel PR?”

  I laughed and nodded as I asked, “Is that the name of your company?”

  “Yes.” She sipped her champagne. “I honor my family, always.”

  Our food was delivered and I held my tongue and libido in check. Once the waitress left, I wanted to probe more. I hardly knew anything about her. Sure, our marriage was temporary, but I always found if I asked people the right questions, I understood them better. So I cut my food and said, “You sounded like you had issues with your parents, yet you proudly display your family name of stre
ngth?”

  We both ate a few bites. Then she put her silverware down and said, “My father was a good man. Part of me blames his death for my mother’s passing—which is silly. She was the weak one and I’d been so annoyed with her as a teen. I was the son my father never had, in many ways.”

  I asked her, “So you were a tomboy?”

  “No.” We ate some more and then she stopped and said, “My oldest sister, Georgiana, Georgie for short, she was the one who often cooked, cleaned and took care of everyone in the family.”

  I refilled the champagne as I said, “So she was the mom.”

  She snorted and said, “Yes. She recently got married at the Venetian to Michael Irons, the baseball player and the father of my nephew. And she seems unusually happy.”

  My mind raced to this morning’s work and my highlighted notes as I said, “Wait. The Tulsa Sooners?”

  She tilted her head and asked said, “Yes. Do you like baseball?”

  We finished our plates and I decided to be forthright as I said, “I recently bought the company that owned them. It hasn’t hit the news yet.”

  Her face white, she asked, “You bought Sun and Moon Trust?”

  I glanced at the door and said, “Yes, but that’s classified information.”

  I could see the sun setting behind her as she asked, “What are your plans for the team?”

  I held my finger up as the staff came in. No one needed to hear this. We ordered warm butter cake that came with vanilla bean ice cream and fresh berries. Once the door closed and we were alone again, I confided, “I haven’t thought about it yet. It wasn’t my goal when I acquired the company.”

  She sucked in her bottom lip and then said, “Why did you target the company then?”

  “It’s a step toward my own plan. The former owners sold me their full shares.”

  Her brother-in-law was now technically my employee. I’d had no idea. I waved my hand like the conversation was done and said, “We’ll talk about business later. Tell me more about your family.”

  “Right,” she said as the cake was brought in. She didn’t mind if anyone heard her as she said, “My sister Stephanie was born a year after me. She’s in London and engaged to some British guy I’ve not met. Ridley is a nurse and always working. Nicole is a blogger with millions of followers on her green-living lifestyle site. And the youngest is Olivia; she’s a teacher.”