He knew Elle had heard that part because she showed no reaction to his words.
“Yes,” Carver bit out.
“How much more?” Prentice asked, Elle went tight at his side and he gave her shoulder another squeeze.
“Name it,” Carver snapped.
“All right, Carver, since this doesn’t seem to be sinking in, I’ll explain it to you. I love your daughter. I’ve loved her for decades. My children love her. We’re happy, finally, fucking happy. You don’t have enough money to make me walk away from that. There isn’t enough money to make me walk away from that.”
“You’re only saying that because Elle has more than four times that amount in her trust,” Carver shot back.
At his words, it was Prentice’s body that went tight.
Then he looked down at Elle and asked, his voice sounding stunned because he fucking well was. “You have over forty-eight million dollars?”
She licked her lips, the nerves acute and visible and she nodded. “At my last meeting with my accountants, it was around fifty-three.”
Prentice couldn’t wrap his mind around fifty-three million dollars.
Carver cut into this endeavor and declared, “I’ll give you fifty-four.”
Elle sucked in breath.
Prentice’s surprised eyes sliced to the man and he muttered the first thing that came to his mind.
“You’re mad.”
“Fifty-four million dollars, you’ll have it tomorrow. No strings,” Carver confirmed. “We’ll find a way around red tape, taxes, everything. You’ll have it mid-morning. Tomorrow afternoon, you walk away.”
“Mad,” Prentice repeated.
“I’m not mad, I’m deadly serious,” Carver returned.
“You’re mad,” Prentice stated again.
“I have it and Isabella knows it,” Carver’s eyes moved to his daughter. “Don’t you?” he demanded and, when she didn’t answer, he leaned forward. “Look at her, Cameron. She knows it and she knows you’re going to take it.”
“Definitely mad,” Prentice muttered yet again.
“Stop saying that!” Carver snapped.
“Carver, if you think I’m going to take that money, you are definitely mad.”
Elle’s body jolted violently at his side but Prentice ignored it and ignored Carver’s mouth dropping open. He didn’t, however, ignore just how fucking satisfied witnessing the bastard’s angry astonishment made him feel.
“Now, I’ll say it one last time before we call the police. It’s late. We’ve got less than a week to pack Elle’s things before we go home. We need to get back to bed. Please leave.”
Carver’s eyes shot daggers at him. Prentice simply returned his furious stare.
Carver broke contact and his gaze took in his daughter, top-to-toe, before he returned it to Prentice.
“You’ll regret it,” Carver warned in a low voice.
“That’s doubtful,” Prentice returned.
“I regretted it, marrying her mother,” Carver went on, Elle gasped and Prentice pulled her more tightly against his side.
“The feeling, Carver, was obviously, and sadly, mutual,” Prentice replied softly and then, his voice firm, his intent unmistakable, he finished, “Now, we’re done.”
The bastard gave them both a scathing look before he stalked, back ramrod straight, out of the room.
Prentice followed him and locked the door behind him.
When he turned, Elle was standing in the foyer.
“You just turned down fifty-four million dollars,” she whispered, her eyes wide and when she finished speaking her lips stayed parted.
“Aye,” Prentice agreed, moved forward the two steps that separated them, kissed her forehead then walked around her to the living room.
He switched out the light and when he turned to the door, Elle was standing in its frame.
“You should know,” she said quietly, “I can’t get to that trust unless it’s to make an investment that’s agreed by a small board made up of executives at my mother’s family’s bank or if it’s an emergency. I live off the interest.”
He walked to her, sliding an arm around her waist and leading her into the foyer so he could switch off the light.
“When you sell this apartment, the money will go back into the trust?” Prentice asked.
“Yes.”
“And if you don’t use the interest, it reverts to the trust?” Prentice went on, having turned off the light, he was guiding her through the boxes.
“Yes.”
“Then you better start looking into charities you want to patronize, baby. I don’t think you’ll have a lot of use for your millions in the wilds of Scotland,” Prentice advised.
He heard her pull in a soft breath but she didn’t respond.
He stopped her by the bed and found the tie on her robe.
“Where’s Evangelista’s money?” he asked softly, yanking on the tie before he lifted his hands and slid the robe from her shoulders.
“I used all of it to build and endow two orphanages, one in Vietnam and the other in Ethiopia,” she whispered.
His hands had stilled in the act of closing around her waist to pull her with him into bed.
His voice was gruff when he stated, “I don’t think I heard about that.”
“You wouldn’t,” she said softly. “No one knows but Dad. I did it anonymously.”
Christ, but he loved her.
One arm slid around her waist, the other hand went to her neck and he fell back to the bed, taking her with him,
Her weight landed on him and he rolled instantly, covering her soft body with his.
“I’m no’ sure what you expect, Elle,” he said against her neck. “But we should get something straight.”
Her hands were gliding around to his back but her touch was tentative.
“What?” she asked, her tone just as tentative.
His head came up, he looked at her in the dark and answered, “When I told you I would take care of you, that’s what I meant.” His hand drifted up to her jaw, his thumb moving across her cheekbone and his voice went soft when he continued, “You live in my house, I pay for the food that goes in your belly, I buy your drinks at the pub, I fill your car with petrol, I put clothes on your back –”
“Pren –” she whispered.
“I’m no’ telling you what to do,” he informed her. “You want to work, make your own money, contribute something to the household, do it. You don’t want to work and you want something, it’s your money, get it. You want to do something special for the kids, though, we talk about it first. I don’t want them spoiled.” His hand tensed on her jaw and he asked, “Are we agreed?”
“What if I want to do something special for you?” she whispered, her arms were wrapped around him now and they weren’t tentative, they were holding on tight.
His mouth found hers in the dark and he kissed her softly before his lips glided to her jaw then to her ear.
“In about five minutes, baby, you’re going to do something special for me,” he murmured there.
“What’s that?” she breathed, her hands had started roaming whisper-soft against the skin of his back and he felt his cock start to grow hard at her touch.
He didn’t answer her question.
Instead, he slid his lips and his tongue down her neck and along her collarbone.
At the base of her throat, he stated, “Outside of you baking your oatmeal cookies every once in awhile, anything special I want from you will have the same theme.”
Her fingers slid into his hair, her other hand moved around his waist, across his stomach and down.
When she pressed her hand into his pajamas and wrapped her fingers tight around his cock, his mouth found hers and he muttered, “You guessed it.”
“You’re impossible,” she whispered as she stroked.
He didn’t answer; he was too busy growling into her mouth.
Her thumb found the tip, circled and it felt so fucking good, Pr
entice bucked his hips into her hand.
Her soft words took his mind off her hand when she said, “You took care of me.”
As good as her hand felt, he wanted to stop and hold her. He wanted to do whatever it took to assure her.
But he decided not to make a big deal about it and hope she got the point.
“Aye,” he replied, his lips moving against hers. “Always, Elle.”
She stroked again, his mouth took hers in a kiss, his tongue sliding inside, tasting her then dueling with hers as she started to move agitatedly under him, his kiss, as usual, getting her excited, her hand automatically stroking faster.
Her mouth broke from his and her head lifted, her tongue sliding down his neck.
“You know that, don’t you, baby?” he asked at her ear when her lips hit his shoulder.
“I didn’t,” she answered against his skin. Pushing him back, she rolled into his side, her hand never ceasing its beautiful work, her head coming up and he felt her eyes on his face before she finished quietly, “I do now.”
His arms crushed around her, holding her tight.
“Can we stop talking now?” she whispered in his ear as her hand kept at its sweet torture. “I want you in my mouth. I can’t talk when you’re in my mouth and I wouldn’t be able to concentrate if you were talking.”
He tried to hold back laughter but this effort shook his entire body.
Her head came back up and he felt her eyes on his face again.
He also felt their heat.
“Are you laughing?” she asked, her voice sounding irate, her hand ceasing its stroking but holding on tight.
“Aye, baby, I’m laughing. What I’m no’ going to be doing is talking.”
It wasn’t in his catalogue of things he wanted to do with Elle (or, in this instance, what he wanted Elle to do to him), and he could only describe it as “interesting” when her mouth took him inside while she was giggling.
But he also wasn’t complaining.
* * * * *
Elle
“Pren?” Elle called quietly.
They’d made love and he was holding her, her back to his front, their legs tangled, their fingers laced and lying on the pillow in front of her.
“Aye, baby,” Prentice answered, his words stirring her hair.
“Why did you read my journals?”
His fingers tightened in hers a moment before they relaxed and he sighed.
“I needed to find a way to get through,” he replied.
“Those thoughts are private,” she whispered. “Or they were.”
She didn’t know what to feel about him invading her privacy. It didn’t feel good, it didn’t exactly feel bad. She wasn’t angry, considering the fact that he’d just turned down fifty-four million dollars to be with her, but she was something.
“Aye, they are,” he agreed. “But you were keeping yourself from me and I didn’t understand why. I can’t say I’m proud of doing it but I can say I would do it again.” He pressed closer and went on, “I’d have done anything, Elle, to make you mine again.”
Okay, now it definitely didn’t feel bad.
Still.
“Did you read them all?” she asked.
“Parts of them, yes,” he answered honestly.
She closed her eyes and his fingers tightened in hers again.
“You wore my ring,” he murmured, his voice suddenly hoarse.
Her stomach clutched and her heart skipped.
“Pren –”
His voice was still thick when he continued, “Twenty years and you kept it with you.”
Elle was silent, partly because she didn’t know what to say, vaguely embarrassed that he knew she’d pined for him for twenty years. And partly because she was holding her breath and wasn’t physically able to speak.
Prentice didn’t have the same problem.
“I can’t say I’m proud of the way I treated you when you came back. What I can say is that I wouldn’t have behaved that way if you didn’t mean anything to me.”
Elle had to admit, this made sense.
And even though it felt good, really good, to know she still meant something to him, especially as she’d held him so close to her heart all those years, it didn’t help her breathing in any way.
Prentice kept on sharing, “I tried to forget you, Elle, but I never did. I told myself I’d moved on but I didn’t.”
She felt the tears sting her eyes, the wetness sliding out the sides.
He shifted their laced fingers so they were tight against her chest and she felt his face burrow in her hair.
“I still have your things,” he confessed, she felt herself go still and her eyes go dry.
“My things?” she whispered.
“Everything you ever gave me, every gift, every letter. Fee never knew I kept them; I didn’t want her to know. I felt guilty that I kept it from her but I couldn’t let them go.” He pulled in breath again and sighed into her hair before continuing, “I didn’t understand at the time, didn’t let myself think of it. But now I realize it’s because her knowing would hurt her and I didn’t want to do that. But also, they were mine. I didn’t want to let them go and I didn’t want to share with anyone, even Fee, that I couldn’t.” When Elle laid still and silent, Prentice finished, “They’re in a box in Mum’s loft.”
After he finished, Elle breathed, “Oh my God.”
He had, in his way, been pining for her too.
Prentice carried on, “Mum’s asked me twice in the last twenty years when she was clearing the loft, if she could get rid of them but I wouldn’t allow it.”
“Oh my God,” Elle repeated, comprehending how huge this admission was but not quite able to process it.
“She thought I was daft.” The throatiness had gone from his voice and a touch of humor was there. “When we get back, we’ll move that box home.”
She felt her breath escalate at his words as his chin moved her hair from her neck and he kissed her there before going on, “I’m not upset you got rid of that ring, baby. I never liked it. I always thought you deserved something more and, even the day I gave it to you, I intended to replace it with something better.”
Oh…
Wow.
“Pren –”
“I am upset about the reason why.”
“Pren –”
“And I’m sorry for that reason. More sorry than I can say that I said those things to you.”
Her voice was aching when she tried again to get through, “Pren –”
He continued to resist her efforts and asked, “Did you wear it when you were with Evangelista?”
She swallowed, worried about what her answer would say about her and then, considering Prentice was being so, very honest, she felt she had no choice but to nod.
Prentice’s voice sounded with disbelief when he asked, “Did he know what it was?”
Elle nodded again.
Then she felt Prentice’s body start shaking with gentle laughter.
His voice sounded highly satisfied when he remarked, “I bet he loved that.”
“We argued about it,” Elle whispered and Prentice’s gentle laughter became not so gentle. “A lot,” she added and Prentice’s not so gentle laughter became vocal.
Elle let his hand go, rolled in the circle of his arm and she looked up at his shadowed face.
“Laurent used to tell me Dad should have let you have me, considering the fact I wasn’t much of a wife.”
Prentice’s voice was still tinged with amusement but it was also firm when he replied, “I think the better way to put that, baby, is he wasn’t much of a husband.”
Elle remembered how hurtful Laurent’s words had been back then, believing that he was right. She couldn’t have children, she couldn’t respond to Laurent in bed, she hated to travel with him even though she tried to enjoy it as much as he did.
Now, that hurt slid away.
Because, Laurent was wrong and Prentice was right.
She mi
ght not have been the greatest wife but then again, she’d never loved him.
But Laurent had, in the beginning, declared his undying love and devotion to her and he could have at least tried to make her feel the same back.
And if he did, indeed, care for her so deeply, he wouldn’t have treated her so cruelly when he found out she couldn’t conceive, he would have taken more care of her when she didn’t respond in bed and he wouldn’t have forced her into the globe-trotting life she found so tedious.
And he wouldn’t have cheated on her repeatedly nor would he have been so hideously obvious about it.
Elle found herself getting angry, thus she declared, “He was a toad.”
Prentice’s body shook with laughter at the same time that laughter rose huskily from his throat. “No, baby, he was a fool.” She felt his hand glide down her back to cup her bottom and he continued, “He gave up this?” He gave her behind a squeeze and murmured, “Mad.”
Without her mind commanding her body to do so, she nuzzled closer and she found her mouth saying teasingly, “I’m getting the impression, Prentice Cameron, that you like my behind.”
“Aye,” he growled and his fingers flexed again, “though I wouldn’t put it that way.”
“And what way would you put it?”
His hand not at her bottom drifted into her hair and he used it to pull her head back so his mouth could descend to hers.
“I don’t like it, I love it,” he muttered against her mouth. “You have the sweetest ass I’ve ever seen.”
His words poured over her and they felt like warm, clean, fragrant water.
“Pren –”
“Especially when you’re on your knees, your ass is in the air and my cock is inside you.”
She felt her body heat and her legs started shifting restlessly as she repeated, “Pren –”
“And when it’s snug in my crotch,” he growled, “baby, the… fucking… best.”
She snuggled closer and brushed her lips against his, her hands moving, somewhat urgently, along his skin as her leg lifted and hooked around his hip.
His hand slid between her legs, he touched her wetness and her hips jerked before they swayed into his palm.
“There it is,” he muttered, his voice filled with masculine satisfaction, something else that sent heat through her system. “Proof you like it when I talk dirty.”
Ghost 05 - Fairytale Come Alive Page 38