The Golden Key Legacy

by AJ Nuest

  The heat of her sex was both pleasure and pain. Torture and paradise. He jerked his hips and she seized his shoulders, her eyes wide. Curling his fingers in her hair, he tipped her head back, brought her forward and buried his cheeks in the addictive curves between her breasts. “Promise me something?”

  “You have but to ask.”

  No one or nothing would stop him from making her his. Not even her. “Once this dinner is over, you’ll tell me everything.”

  “No more secrets, my heart.”

  He licked a path up her chest toward her throat, circling the little dip between her collar bones. Her thighs cinched his hips and he swooped in, devouring her lips until her taste washed all the filth from his mind.

  Before he’d gotten his fill, before he’d coaxed them both to the edge like he’d planned, the car rolled to a stop and the driver’s side door slammed, signaling the end of their ride.

  He muttered a curse as she broke away from him and sat back, her breathy chuckle warming the air between them. She straightened the lapels of his jacket. “Do this for me and, once accomplished, I swear on the nine you may lay claim to my body in whatever ways you desire.”

  Fuck. How the hell did she expect him to last through dessert with that visual seared into his head?

  The car door swung open and she slipped off his lap. Arousal sparkled in her eyes as she shimmied the hem of her skirt to her ankles, grabbed her shawl and purse and exited the car.

  Rhys joined her on the sidewalk, the muted glow of the globed lights framing the front door of his father’s north shore estate casting shimmers through her hair. He snagged her hand and led her up the three steps of the concrete stoop. A couple raps of the brass knocker hanging from the gargoyle’s mouth and, a second or two later, Grady swung back the hinges and smiled at Rhys from the opposite side of the threshold.

  “Nice to see you again, Rhys.” His eyes flicked to Faedrah and back again. “You look well.”

  Good old Grady. His dad’s butler never missed a trick. In fact, in many ways, his steady, unwavering presence had provided more warmth and comfort to Rhys than anything else as a kid. “Her name’s Faedrah and, thanks to her, I’m better than I’ve been in years.”

  His angel sized up Grady before a thousand watt smile lit up her face. Jutting her hand forward, she stepped close and pumped his arm as if the greeting were something she’d rehearsed. “’Tis my utmost pleasure to meet you, Sir McEleod.”

  A spider-web of crows’ feet crinkled the corners of Grady’s eyes as he and Rhys exchanged a chuckle. “Oh, my dear, I’m not Rhys’ father.” He covered her hand with his. “But do come in. Make yourself at home.” He withdrew a step, opening a flat hand toward the tiled foyer.

  Rhys followed her inside, the creak of hinges and a resounding slam echoing against the high ceilings as Grady closed the door and slipped the lock behind them. A draft of musty air washed Rhys’ face. Shadows leapt from beneath the row of small shaded sconces decorating the dark oak wainscoting.

  Good God, the place resembled a tomb. “What kind of mood is he in today?”

  Grady clasped his wrist in one hand, lips pursed. “Contemplative, but he did express his anticipation over tonight’s dinner. He’s waiting for you in the study.” He turned away and then hesitated. “I feel I should warn you. He’s not been well, Rhys. His health has recently taken a turn for the worse.”

  “How terrible.” Faedrah grasped Rhys’ forearm. “Thank Helios, we’ve come in the nick of time.”

  The butler nodded, his thick-soled shoes silent as he started down the narrow corridor, his shoulders slightly more stooped beneath his black suit since the last time Rhys had seen him.

  He set his palm on the small of Faedrah’s back as they followed, but she pulled up short as they neared the wide stairwell.

  A variety of hand-painted portraits notched up the wall, hung at the same intervals as the runner-covered stairs, all of them depicting the McEleod moguls who’d ruled the empire over the years. An empty frame filled a spot near the landing, and Rhys bit back frustrated curse. At one time, he would’ve given anything to be the next in line, but Leo had made it clear in more ways than one he hadn’t inherited the right DNA to earn his place on the wall.

  Only now, after he’d become sick, was his father ready to hand over the reins. If that’s what this dinner was about, Rhys would make sure the deal stayed unaccepted on the table. Any offers to join the family business came way too late.

  He turned toward Faedrah, and a fist of anxiety punched him hard in the gut. For God’s sake, she was as white as a ghost. “What is it?”

  She snapped her attention to him. “Nothing, I…” A nervous laugh slipped from her throat. “I’ve just had the strangest sensation I’ve been here before.”

  A shiver wove down her back, dislodging his hand, and he gritted his teeth. He should’ve insisted they have a snack before leaving Forbes’ condo. She needed to eat or she was liable to take a header for the floor.

  Grady cleared his throat, waiting in front of the closed study door. Rhys wound an arm around Faedrah’s waist and pulled her against him for support as he guided her down the hall. “Come on. Let’s get you a drink.”

  Her steps were unsteady. She trembled in his arms. Grady swung the door wide and nodded a smile as they entered.

  A soft fire crackled in the hearth, but the burning logs added zero ambiance to the room. In fact, the overdone heat made the atmosphere stuffy, and the stale air stunk like the drapes and windows hadn’t been opened in months.

  The green-shaded lamp on his father’s double pedestal oak desk cast light along the stacks of papers, several sets of rolled blueprints and the antique phone, but the padded desk chair sat empty.

  A rustle of movement caught the corner of his eye, and Rhys pivoted toward the fireplace as his father stood from his leather winged-backed chair. A toothy grin nearly split his face in two, and Faedrah snapped straight as a board inside his arm. Rhys couldn’t blame her. The bloodshot ring of his father’s eyes and sunken complexion was spine-tingling creepy. Time had not been kind to Leo McEleod. The guy looked half dead.

  He rounded the chair, the end of his black silk smoking jacket whispering over the thick pile of the Asian rug, and extended his hand. “I’m so glad you’ve come, Faedrah. It’s been far too long, don’t you think?”

  What the fuck? Rhys scowled. The two of them knew each other?

  He glanced at his angel and his arm dropped like lead weight. The terror etched on her face said it all. But when? How?

  “Gaelleod,” she whispered, shrinking toward the door. Her gaze skipped to Rhys and back again and she gripped a shaking white hand around her throat. “No. This cannot be.”

  The amusement that shook his father’s shoulders raised the hair on the nape of Rhys’ neck. “Oh my darling child, no one has called me that in ages. But, I must say, I’m so pleased you’ve taken the time to know my son.”

  She choked, stutter stepped for the exit. Tears flooded her eyes, and she shook her head. A last glance at Rhys, and she whirled, dropping her purse and shawl as she raced from the room.

  The Sacrifice

  Chapter 1

  I’m going to fucking kill him.

  Rhys stormed down the hall, each swing of his fist flicking Faedrah’s red shawl like a road flare in the corner of his eye. If his father had so much as touched her, he would beat the asshole to a bloody pulp.

  Grady stood beside the open front door, his hand on the knob. “She’s in the car.”

  Rhys nodded his thanks as he exited and ratcheted his feet down the front stoop, aiming a hard finger at the limousine driver. “In the car. Now. We’re going to my place.” Without missing a beat, he swung the car door open and dove inside.

  A sparkly red missile spun toward his head, and he deflected the sharp tip of Faedrah’s stiletto with his forearm. “Stop it.” She launched the second shoe and he snagged it mid-twirl. “I said stop.”

  Pain exploded throug
h his right eye. The back of his head bounced off the seat with the force of her punch. He pressed the heel of his palm to his eye socket, the other hand wrestling her arms as she volleyed a series of blows over his torso and chest. “Dammit, Faedrah, I’m not going to hurt you, I love you. God dammit, I’m in love with you!”

  A stinging smack broke the dim interior of the car, and his face snapped to the right. Shit, the woman had a wicked right cross. She gasped as if the slap had surprised even her and he ground his teeth until the smarting subsided. Slumping to her knees, she clamped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide in horror. She turned away and crawled to the corner near the backward-facing seat, covered her head with both arms and curled into a tight ball.

  Jesus Christ. Note to self. Moving forward, remember to never piss her off. He ran his fingers along the side of his face, working out the kinks in his jaw, but the ache was nothing compared to the space she’d driven between them. Having her so far away, both physically and emotionally, tore his heart out. Regardless, he wasn’t about to apologize. He’d waited twenty damn years to tell her how he felt. Fucked up timing aside, she’d be waiting another twenty if she expected him to take the words back now.

  “Come here.” He lowered his hand, wincing, but no matter how much he blinked the vision in his right eye refused to focus.

  “I do not deserve your forgiveness or your love.” Her hair shimmered down her back like a blanket of stars as she shook her head. “I have failed.”

  Her whisper was so soft, he thought at first he’d misheard her, and the thump of tires over potholes and blare of horns from congested lakefront traffic didn’t help. He needed her closer. To figure out a way to reassure her. Whatever “failure” had happened between her and Leo, Rhys would bet the keys to his bike she wasn’t to blame. She had no clue she’d be running into him tonight and, in typical Leo fashion, the asshole had enjoyed every second of his little stunt. “It’s not your fault. Leo set you up. Hell, he set us both up.”

  “The fault most certainly lies with me.” A soggy breath hitched in her chest. “I am a weak-minded fool. I scurried from his presence like a frightened rabbit. I consorted with the enemy and willingly revealed that which I should have protected above all cost.”

  Yep. That was classic Leo. He’d no doubt backed her into some intractable corner. Rhys had witnessed this same bullshit time and again.

  Nothing got Leo’s rocks off like pulling the old bait and switch. The way he loved cooking up some slip-shod investment scheme, secretly buying up shares in a company, targeting his competition and tearing businesses apart just so he could earn another notch in his belt. For Christ’s sake, his mob-like tactics had ruined so many families, Rhys had lost count.

  Free enterprise had never been part of the McEleod business strategy. Survival of the fittest was Leo’s manifesto, and in whatever small way the opposition threatened his empire, he eliminated them without batting an eye.

  Rhys huffed. God, he was an idiot. He should have seen this fist fuck coming from miles away, should’ve known he could never ditch the McEleod name and all the baggage that went along with it just by packing up and moving out of the penthouse. But the real icing on the cake? The final nail in the coffin Leo had used to hammer his point home? Chances were good he’d learned of Faedrah’s family a long time ago. No way could he have heard about her showing up at the gallery just two days ago. Since they’d obviously run into each other before, he’d probably been planning this little surprise party for months. Once Rhys and Faedrah had met, the rest had been easy, and so what if Leo manipulated his son and asked to meet Rhys’ girl after he’d bankrupted her family? Who cared if Rhys delivering her to dear old dad like a god damned cherry on a hot fudge sundae destroyed their relationship?

  A growl grated the back of his throat, and he fisted his hands. This time Leo had pushed the envelope too far, even for him. The real boner being, he’d probably talked himself into believing he’d done Rhys a favor. What better way to secure his son’s future than exploiting whatever tactics he could to force Faedrah’s family under McEleod jurisdiction? With her “kingdom” all wrapped up in a tidy little package, he could hand over the reins to the company without worrying Rhys would fuck up and lose operating control of the assets.

  He leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees. “Did you hear me? He set us both up, Faedrah, but it’s important to me you understand. I’m not like him. Never have been. Leo McEleod may have had a hand in bringing me into this world, but he’s not my father. Not by a long shot.” He reached for her a second time. “Now come here.”

  Unlocking her arms, she slowly lifted her head, and the uncertainty etched on her face nearly cracked his chest in two.

  Shit. He dropped his hand and slumped back in the seat. They were right back to square one. So help him God, whatever illness was eating away at Leo’s body, the disease wasn’t doing its job fast enough. One more fucking word from him, and Rhys would make it his life’s ambition to take down everything the rat bastard had built.

  Faedrah sighed and looked toward the window, worrying her bottom lip, and frustration knotted in Rhys’ gut as he studied her face. Most likely, this was the spot where she’d demand he drive her back to Forbes’ condo. He shook his head; raked a hand through his hair. Once inside, she’d disappear from his life as easily as she’d entered.

  He braced for the head-on collision screaming at him like a jack-knifed semi freewheeling an icy highway. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was letting that happen. Not with Leo on her scent and not with the way their relationship dangled by a thread. She could fight him all damn night if she wanted. One or two knocks wouldn’t change his mind.

  She was staying with him. End of story.

  “The sins of the father shall not be visited upon the son.”

  He squinted at the far-away tone in her whisper, the way her eyes followed the streetlights streaking past the window. “What did you say?”

  Glancing at him, she tipped her head. “’Tis the first edict my father proclaimed as king.”

  Huh. Well, chalk one up for the CEO of the Austiere Kingdom. The dude had just slipped Rhys the ace he needed. “Your dad sounds like smart man.”

  A small smile surfed her lips…there and gone so fast it became a memory almost before it happened. She turned and locked her gorgeous brown eyes onto his, and his fingertips dug into his thighs as that same cold skepticism slammed into her gaze like god damn brick wall. “Did you speak true?”

  About what? Loving her? All the fantastic bullshit that went along with being Leo McEleod’s son or how he was damn sure whatever had happened wasn’t her fault? Shit, that was a no-brainer. “Yes, Faedrah. Every word.”

  One of her arms fell forward, her hand hanging limp from her wrist, elbow extended across her knee.

  His eyes flicked down to her fingers and back up again. An apology? Maybe. Or maybe she expected him to lean forward and kiss her knuckles.

  Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

  He stared at her, waiting. A simple kiss of her hand wouldn’t seal the crack between them. It wouldn’t rub out the filthy reminder of who he was or be enough to convince her she was exactly where she belonged.

  His jaw firmed. She knew that as well as he did.

  She flipped her palm up. The slightest wiggle of her fingers, and he sat forward, shoved his hands under her arms and hauled her sideways onto his lap. He needed to taste her, to show her that, no matter what, the two of them together was what mattered most.

  Thumb braced under her chin, fingers secure around her neck, he tipped her into the crook of his arm and crushed his lips to hers.

  Her arms tightened across the back of his shoulders. She softened beneath him, her mouth parting to invite him in, and the temptation of her bare skin made him hard in three seconds flat. He coasted his palm up the outside of her thigh, jamming his hand under the mile-high slit in her dress.

  Christ, everything about her made him ache. A shove of her hips and she wh
impered into his mouth as he angled her higher on his lap. From the cushion of her perfect ass cradling his cock, to the enthusiastic swirl of her tongue, to the ball-busting fear stamped across her face the second they’d stepped into Leo’s study.

  He’d do whatever it took to protect her. A promise Leo could take to the bank.

  “I’m not going to let him get away with this.” He nipped the edge of her jaw, breathing her in; swept an open-mouthed kiss along her neck and tongued her earlobe so the euphoric high he got off her skin would coat the inside of his mouth. “Leo crossed the line, and you can bet your sweet ass, whatever he did to your family, this time, he’s going to pay. You have my word.”

  She jerked back from him, cold terror glittering in her eyes, her face as white as the cuffs of his sleeves. “You cannot fight him.”

  He cocked a brow. “The hell I can’t. In fact, nothing would make me happier than putting that asshole in his place.” Except for however his muse might choose to thank him once this bullshit was over and done.

  “No, no.” She fisted the lapels of his jacket and sat up, hanging on as if his life tipped in the balance of her next words. “Swear to me now, you will not return to his chambers in search of some ill-advised revenge.”

  He narrowed his eyes. If asked, he would’ve easily torched every portrait of her in his collection for one glimpse inside her beautiful blonde head. “What, exactly, did Leo do to you? What threats did he use to blackmail your family? And, god dammit, who died and left you in charge of fixing the problem?”

  “You misunderstand.” She shook her head. “Defeating Gaelleod is a task for which I volunteered. Yet ʼtwas not the call of his heart which summoned me here. ʼTwas not the yearning of his body or the unholy union of our souls.” Releasing his jacket, she cupped his cheeks in her palms. “I regret that terrible privilege belongs to you, and I would not so foolishly risk all the goddesses have granted me in exchange for any sentence, be it the whole of my disgrace or the unwelcomed reinstatement of time and distance which separates our lives.”