Elah's Plaything

by Lydia Rowan

  Table of Contents

  Elah’s Plaything

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  Playthings Series

  Lydia’s Books

  Copyright

  Elah’s Plaything

  Book Three of the Playthings Series

  Can love be born of hate and revenge?

  Criminal. Business mogul. Saint. Sinner. Self-made billionaire Elah Avakian has been called them all, but labels and opinions are of no consequence to him. All that matters is his lifelong quest for revenge against his hated enemy, a man who happens to be one of the city’s most revered politicians. After decades of planning, Elah is finally ready to get the justice he seeks. His first step? Taking his enemy’s most treasured possession: his beloved daughter.

  Lottie Trufant knows that her father is an honorable man, so when Elah threatens to send him to prison and destroy his hard-earned and well-deserved reputation, she can’t believe it. She also can’t believe Elah’s price for her father’s freedom: her hand in marriage. Desperate to protect her father and convinced she can make Elah understand how wrong he is, Lottie agrees to his terms and finds herself married to a stranger who hates her father, a man who only sees her as a means to an end, a man she finds herself drawn to more and more each day…

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  Prologue

  “Such a beautiful room, isn’t it, Lottie?”

  Charlotte Trufant blinked as she let the question process, but her response took several seconds longer than it would have if she hadn’t been so distracted.

  “Why, yes. It is. And a great addition to the hospital,” she said, managing to rejoin the conversation. “I think a lot of good will get done here.”

  She finished with a smile, and her conversational companion—Lottie had forgotten the man’s name, a true testament to how off she was since she never forgot names—nodded in that particular way that told her idle conversation about good charitable works was over, and it was time to get to the political business of the day.

  “Greg,” she said, touching the shoulder of Gregory Williams, her father’s chief aide, “I believe our friend has a question that you’d be better suited to answer.” She smiled at both men.

  “Of course,” Greg said, smoothly stepping closer and engaging the other man, though he threw a quick, questioning glance her way.

  She ignored the look and smiled again. “I’ll let you two chat,” she said and then twisted so that her back was partially turned away from the little group.

  The move left her directly facing the man who had her in such a flustered state.

  Elah Avakian.

  As he had earlier, he stood alone, surveying the guests gathered to celebrate the new addition to the city’s public hospital, he, like the rest of the attendees, having significantly contributed to its construction. But, unlike the other attendees, he apparently felt no obligation to mingle and network. Perhaps a person of his reputation and renown didn’t network. Not that he’d have anyone to network with in this crowd. The hush that had fallen over the room when he’d entered had been a thing of amazement, as if all at once, the attendees realized they were in the presence of greatness—or of great danger—and no one had the courage to figure out which. Lottie had intended to do just that, her sense of propriety breached by the reaction of the other guests, when she’d been intercepted by Greg to chat up one of her father’s potential contributors.

  But now, she squared her shoulders and walked across the atrium, determined to at least show the man the same level of courtesy she would anyone else. His company had donated substantially to the building fund, and to ignore him was just plain rude. Though as she approached, the impulse to stay away got stronger and stronger. Even from a distance, the man radiated power and command, and not the kind that came from wealth or status. No, Lottie could tell it was innate in him, something he could no more control than he could his intimidating height or build. The faintest stirrings of apprehension, and beneath them an even fainter stirring of something like fascination, sprang to life in her chest; she’d never seen someone quite like him before, and she’d met many people.

  Still, she ignored those faint emotions and continued to walk toward him, noting the definitive break in the room. The attendees chatted excitedly on one side, but the closer she got to Elah Avakian, the fewer people there were, until she reached what was almost like a neutral zone empty of people and seemingly serving as a buffer between Elah and everyone else. Her irritation spiked. Reputation aside, this just wasn’t right.

  If it bothered him, he showed no outward sign of it. In fact, his exterior betrayed no hint of any reaction at all. He looked at various people, gaze never resting longer than a second on any one person and face not betraying even a hint of what he might be thinking. And while he hadn’t looked at her yet, at least not when she’d been paying attention, she had no doubt that he was aware of her approach. She also had no clue of his reaction to it, so she continued, undeterred. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a brave cocktail waiter approach Elah; the man was clearly nervous but at least living up to his professional duty.

  Before he could make it halfway, Elah threw the man a cold glance that had the waiter turning back, it being clear that he’d been dismissed. That spiked another flare of irritation, this time at Elah. The man had only been doing his job; there was no need to be rude. Lottie halfway expected a similar dismissive stare, but instead, when he finally looked at her, his cold, calculating gaze froze her in her tracks. It was as if, in that single glance, he was looking inside of her, taking her measure, and, as inappropriate as it was, she couldn’t help but wonder if she measured up.

  She didn’t get a chance to find out. An arm settling on her shoulders drew her attention, and she turned to find Greg standing next to her, his face a mask of barely concealed scorn and concern. For her or for someone else, she couldn’t tell.

  “I’ll be just a minute, Greg. I’ll catch up with you after I talk to…”

  She turned to point in Elah’s direction, but he was gone.

  ••••

  The sound of tinkling laughter floated to Elah Avakian’s ears, cutting through the honk of horns, car engines, and the other everyday sounds of street life that surrounded him. He turned his head toward the laughter, his gaze landing on the patio of one of the finest restaurants in the city, and he stopped in his tracks, uncaring of the people on the sidewalk who had to suddenly switch direction to avoid crashing into him. The image that he found stoked a fire of rage in his belly, and he felt a grimace spread across his face. While he quickly schooled his features—outward shows of emotion would not do—his anger still burned bright and strong.

  The sight of his nemesis sitting out in the open flagrantly enjoying himself without a care was proof that there was no justice in the world. Elah continued to watch as the man took a sip of what looked to be beer and smiled at his companion, affection shining in his gaze. Elah followed the path of the man’s eyes with his own and stopped on a young woman. Tidy-looking, round face, smooth brown
skin, hair swept up into a proper bun. Pretty enough if one appreciated that type of wholesomeness. Elah did not, but Councilman James Trufant clearly disagreed.

  She wasn’t the councilman’s wife. A lover, perhaps? Nothing was beyond Trufant, but it seemed unlikely that the respected politician would dine with a mistress in such a public place. Elah looked at the man’s companion again and realization hit him in a flash. He’d seen her before at the hospital reception he’d recently attended on a whim. If he recalled correctly, and he did, the young woman had intended to talk to him, had squared her shoulders and walked in his direction, seemingly unconcerned with the stares of the onlookers or of Elah’s reputation. She’d been intercepted before she reached him, but Elah had been charged by the prospect of speaking with her, if only because she’d seemed so unafraid. Awareness of who the woman was finally dawned on him. Elah had known Trufant had a daughter, one who worked closely with him from what he had heard, but, other than at the opening, this was the first time he’d seen her.

  The interplay between the councilman and the young woman continued, and Elah watched in rapt fascination, intrigued by this side of the councilman. Trufant was a callous bastard, and Elah couldn’t recall a time when he’d seen anything other than disdain or cold calculation in his eyes. But when the man looked at his daughter, the pure love there was plain.

  A seed of thought began to form in Elah’s mind and crystalized in an instant.

  He allowed himself a smile as he resumed walking. There was no justice in the world, but he’d settle for the next best thing.

  Vengeance.

  Chapter One

  “It’s not too late to change your mind, Elah,” Roland Hart said as he stepped into Elah’s office. Elah looked up at his lawyer and almost friend and considered the other man’s words.

  “Why would I do a thing like that?” he finally said.

  “Because this plan you’ve concocted is idiotic and insane.”

  “I prefer the term inspired, but semantics aren’t important.”

  Hart settled on the love seat in the office and leveled a stare at Elah.

  “Well, do you want me to hang around at least?”

  “No. I’ll call if I need you. Do you have the documents?”

  Hart pulled three thick manila envelopes from his briefcase and stood and walked over to drop them on the conference table. “This is an awful plan, but I hope you get what you want out of it.”

  “I won’t get everything, probably never will, but this is a step. Thanks, Hart.”

  Elah meant it. Few had the courage to challenge him, at least not to his face, and Hart’s honesty made him an incredible ally, even at times like this, when he vehemently opposed Elah’s decision. Hart nodded and left, closing the office door behind him. For a moment, Elah remained in his chair, and then he stood and walked over to the conference table and grabbed the envelopes. His thoughts shifted to the upcoming confrontation. He would be successful, of this he had no doubt. But it never hurt to consider the angles. So that was what he did as he waited, that low hum of excitement at his impending victory sparking at the back of his brain. He pushed it aside, though, wouldn’t get ahead of himself. There was work to be done yet.

  Trufant could refuse, protest what Elah had in mind, but he seriously doubted it. The documents he held would shred the councilman’s reputation into a million pieces, the good name that he’d built off the tears and pain of others reduced to a punch line. Not to mention the not small matter of potential state and federal indictments. And everything he knew about Trufant, all the information he’d obsessively collected over the years, told him the man valued his status, reputation, and position too much not to comply.

  The girl, on the other hand…

  Elah had looked into her background and been confounded. Everything he’d uncovered suggested that she had nothing to hide, that she was exactly the charitable politician’s daughter that she seemed. He didn’t buy it for a second. Everyone had secrets, and no one, especially someone who worked closely with the councilman, could be that squeaky clean. Still, he hadn’t quite pegged her yet, so she could be a complication.

  In the end, it didn’t matter, though. The girl was a nice bonus, an extra little treat to sweeten his victory. But with or without her, after all these years, success was finally in reach.

  ••••

  “Daddy, are you all right?” Lottie Trufant asked her father.

  The councilman was almost always in good spirits and never, ever looked less than confident, which was why her father’s nervous, jittery demeanor had Charlotte alarmed. Outwardly, he was the same, his brown suit, bone-white dress shirt, and brown tie—no doubt lovingly selected by her mother, as most of his outfits were—neat and tidy as always, his goatee trimmed, low Caesar freshly shaved. In short, he was, save the slight softening around his middle and a few more gray hairs at his temples, the father that he’d been her whole life.

  Why, then, was he so anxious? It had to be this meeting with Elah Avakian. Daddy had called her yesterday, nothing out of the ordinary given that they talked pretty much daily. But he’d been distracted, seeming upset, and had insisted she accompany him to this meeting. She’d been happy to oblige, always willing to help her friends and family out, but he’d been vague about the purpose of the meeting. And when she’d picked him up, he’d looked almost terrified. It had only gotten worse, and now, as they stood in the elevator, riding to the top floor of Elah Avakian Enterprises, or EAE as it was called—not the cleverest of names by a long shot—her father looked faint. She could understand being a bit nervous, especially since she herself had been shaken by that brief glimpse of the man, but this reaction from her father was too much.

  “Daddy.” She grabbed his hand, making him jump, but he looked at her. “What’s going on?”

  His brown eyes widened, and he shook his head, grasping her fingers tight as if seeking support. “I don’t know, baby girl. But know that whatever happens here today, whatever’s said, I love you.”

  He squeezed her hand again and then pulled away.

  “Daddy, you’re scaring me,” she said. “Is it this meeting? We can lea—”

  The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Her father looked over at her again, his eyes tortured, and then stepped out. With no other choice, she followed, her gaze flitting across the room. It was a large, bright area that displayed breathtaking views of the city and surrounding areas. Any other time, she’d be taken with it, excited at the prospect of such a lovely scene.

  But not today; today the sight barely registered as she tried to puzzle out what exactly was happening. She looked at the reception desk where a brunette as breathtaking as the view was stationed. Her hair was slicked into a neat updo, face flawlessly made up, and when she stood, Charlotte could see her model-thin body clothed in a ridiculously expensive suit from one of those stores Charlotte wouldn’t dream of entering, certain that even if she could fit the clothes, which she most assuredly couldn’t, she definitely couldn’t pay for them.

  The model receptionist walked toward them and indicated a leather sofa to the left of the room. “Councilman Trufant; Ms. Trufant, please have a seat. Mr. Avakian will be with you shortly,” she said, and then she returned to her desk, clearly done with Lottie and her father.

  Lottie stiffened her shoulders and walked to the couch, her father trailing behind a second later. The woman’s demeanor had struck a spark of irritation. There was nothing exactly untoward about her behavior, but still, she’d been so damned cold. But a good reminder, she ultimately decided. Her father’s behavior and now this chilly greeting…

  Charlotte would need to be on her game today. At least that much was clear.

  Her father, usually a bit of a chatterbox, sat stock-still and stone silent as they waited, and as the minutes passed, she felt her irritation grow.

  “Dad,” she said after fifteen minutes, “how long are we going to wait?”

  Rather than respond, he sighed and glanced
out the window, his face saying, As long as it takes, though he remained silent. Finally, after a half hour, the ice queen stood and walked over to them.

  “Mr. Avakian will see you now,” she said, then did a perfect pivot turn on her heels and walked away, not looking back to see if they followed.

  Lottie stood and her dad sprang up when she touched his arm. The receptionist led them past her desk and down a long hallway that didn’t have any other doors, their destination clearly at the end. Lottie’s palms dampened with each step she took, the flutters in her belly growing stronger as they got closer. A glance at her father revealed that he, too, was affected. His normally rich brown skin had a waxy pallor, and he looked as if he wanted to retch. She reached out her hand, which he took, and smiled as reassuringly as she could. A bit of relief broke through in his eyes. It leavened her flagging spirits. They’d get through…whatever this was together.

  When they reached the door, the ice queen knocked twice in rapid succession and then turned the knob.

  “Mr. Avakian, Councilman and Ms. Trufant have arrived.”

  Then she executed that perfect pivot again and headed back down the seemingly interminable hallway, leaving them standing at the threshold. Her father seemed in no hurry to enter, so it was left to her to take the first step. The amazing view from the lobby again greeted her, but as she had earlier, she dismissed it and glanced around the room.

  And stopped on Elah Avakian.

  She’d seen him at the hospital reception, had been struck by his presence then, but here, now, he was overwhelming. She put him at a bulky six and a half feet, his powerfully muscled frame not in any way hidden by the perfect cut of his black suit. The crisp white of his shirt stood stark against the golden tan of his skin, and she briefly noted his red tie, his smooth, chiseled jaw, the firm-set lips that would be full if they weren’t drawn in almost a sneer, though his expression was otherwise placid. Wheat-brown hair cut neatly at his collar, combed back but slightly longer on the top from what she could see.