Rule's Seduction

by Lynda Chance

  His seeming boredom pissed her off further. “Why me? And why married? I know this is about my brothers, so just get it over with and admit it.”

  He continued to watch her, and after a moment, said quietly and firmly, “I believe I’ve already acknowledged that.”

  At his answer that was entirely devoid of emotion, she took a fortifying breath and then another while twin emotions of fury and hysteria fought for control. “Why bring me into it?”

  He studied her features as if trying to understand her state of mind. “Think of it as business, love. Nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Business.” She repeated the word under her breath as she felt a huge wave of outrage build in her bloodstream. She tried to contain it, but it was useless—her mouth opened as her temper snapped. “Are you fucking kidding me? Nothing for me to worry about? You tricked me into a wedding ceremony—you brought me to Argentina against my will and now you have the goddamn nerve to tell me it’s nothing for me to worry about?”

  At her outburst, his posture became rigid as his jaw clenched. “We can do this one of two ways. You can clean up your language and your attitude this very second and I’ll treat you with the respect that my wife deserves.” He leaned in closer as his eyes narrowed. “Or you can continue on a course of defiance, and I’ll be forced to take matters into my own hands.”

  “And do what?” she sneered.

  “I’ll lock you in a room for the duration and handle the business end of things with your brother.” He whipped his cell phone from his pocket and tossed it on the coffee table as if prepared to make a call at any moment. “You have three seconds to decide how you want this to go. Starting now.”

  “Which brother?” she asked before she could stop herself—as if it mattered.

  He lifted an eyebrow, but surprisingly, gave her a clipped answer. “Garrett.” His eyes narrowed. “Two seconds.”

  Lock her in a room? She broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of being a prisoner here and immediately knew she couldn’t let that happen. She was too smart to let that happen. “I don’t want to be locked in a room,” she said quickly in a controlled voice.

  “You sure?” he swiped the phone off the coffee table and looked as if he was scrolling through his contacts. He pressed a button and swiveled the screen in her direction. The name Garrett Rule was displayed in bold prominence as if awaiting a single touch of a button. “I’d thought to make this easy on you by letting you make your own decisions—but trust me, locking you up and dealing with your brother is no skin off my teeth.”

  She shook her head, refusing to let things get any worse than they already were. If he phoned her brother things would go south in a heartbeat. If she had to contain her truculence, then so be it—but she had questions. “Do you know Garrett personally?”

  He seemed to study her for a moment before her question made his eyes glint with something akin to contempt. “Oh, yeah. We’re the best of friends,” he sneered.

  “Sounds like you’re not,” she said neutrally.

  He inclined his head. “Your brother despises me and I return the sentiment.”

  Wondering just what the hell she’d gotten herself into, she tried to control the panic that was making her blood run way too fast. The combination of rage and fear held her almost frozen. She was pissed and she was scared. No, she couldn’t afford to be scared—fear couldn’t help the situation. Right.

  She knew immediately that he wasn’t bullshitting her—the guy would lock her up if she wasn’t careful. As she struggled to control the urge to jump up and flee, she tamped down her fear, but unfortunately, the most prominent emotion left was anger. As if it showed on her face, he leaned forward into her personal space as his mouth tightened. “If you continue to be belligerent, I might return that belligerence—an act that would undoubtedly bring acrimony to our relationship. It would be so much better for … us … if we got along, yes?”

  He meant it would be better for her if they got along. How was she supposed to take that? As simply as it came off or as the threat she thought it surely was? She schooled her features into a mask so that he couldn’t see the hostility in her eyes and then looked down at her hands folded in her lap and waited.

  And waited.

  After a moment of prolonged silence where the air around them grew thick while she continued to stare down, she felt him settle back in his seat before drawling, “Very good, darling.”

  Son-of-a-bitch. She was going to kill him. Surely no jury in the world would condemn her for killing him? His arrogance alone was an unpardonable offense.

  She felt his stare for a few more seconds before he finally yielded by asking, “Are you familiar with the game, Jenga?”

  Erin lifted her gaze to his, her fingers digging into each other, looking for some form of support as a wave of confusion swept through her at what he was asking. “Yes.”

  He lifted that single, maddening brow once again. “You’ve played the game, then?”

  Damn him—he seemed unflappable while she wanted to scream and throw things. It was just one more thing that inflamed her anger. “No,” she seethed while raising her voice impatiently, “but I’ve seen it on television and I know what it’s about. So, what’s the connection?” Damn. Could she not stop screeching when he seemed totally unperturbed?

  His eyes sharpened momentarily as he reached out and ran a single, forceful finger down her cheek and across her bottom lip. There was no doubt that it was a reminder—she’d better be careful. His voice deepened. “It’s a game of precision and strategy, is it not?”

  His tone remained cool, detached even, and the heat from his abbreviated caress fractured her breathing. It took everything she had to stay on subject. “From what I know about it.”

  He shrugged his shoulders almost carelessly. “Jenga is merely an analogy for our situation. In the game, there’s a tower—think of that tower as being the Rule Corporation. You and your brothers have been playing the game, but you didn’t know it—until now.”

  If Erin had been sick to her stomach before, that feeling only ramped up at his explanation, as in her mind’s eye, she could see a Jenga tower wobbling, about to fall. “And do my brothers know this? That they’re playing a game with you?” How in the hell was she able to put on a calm act when on the inside she was walking a tightrope with her sanity? Was she a better actress than she realized?

  “Not completely, no.” He stretched back in his seat and crossed an ankle over his knee as if he were completely comfortable. “However, they are sure to recognize my name at this point, because I’ve been dogging their tracks for some time.”

  Even through her mixed emotions, his game plan was beginning to make more sense. “Is that why you introduced yourself as Santiago? Because you thought that I might recognize the Villarreal name?”

  At his short nod and nothing else, she very forcibly masked her impatience and asked, “I still don’t understand what I have to do with this? How am I playing the game?”

  His hand left his knee, his finger sweeping across her bottom lip again—as if proving that he could touch her any time he felt the need … but almost as if he were unable to stop himself from doing so—as if he needed to do so. It was a tantalizing thought but she didn’t have time to dwell on it, though she stored it for later.

  He didn’t release her as he’d done before and a thrill of unwanted, frightened anticipation made her tense as he stared at her as if he were only playing with her before he pounced. The look he gave as his fingers caressed her lip held many things—fire, fascination, challenge, utter control. A flare of measured design crossed his visage, bringing involuntary tremors to her limbs, before he asked in a deep, silken voice, “You don’t want their tower to fall, do you, sweetness?”

  An arrow of sheer panic landed in the pit of her stomach, as her lips quivered against her will. “I’m sure I don’t—” she stalled as his eyes left hers to watch his caress against her lip, “—so what should my strategy be?”
Jesus, was she actually asking the enemy how to go about winning? But then, who the hell else was she supposed to ask?

  His eyes snapped back to hers. “If you’d like me to stop making hostile moves toward toppling the Rule Corporation then the first thing you have to do is make a simple choice about staying with me. It’s very basic, love—I want you here. And to keep their tower strong, you need to keep me happy, yes?”

  Unease made her heart beat erratically. “Are you saying you have the means to topple it?”

  His gaze became rapier sharp as his hand dropped from her face to land on the gold band on her finger again, as if to remind her of it. “I rarely bluff.”

  She steeled her backbone, attempting to ignore the inappropriate tingling running down her spine, and forged ahead. “What do you hold against them?”

  He let out a bark of laughter and shook his head. “Not going there, love. I don’t think I’ll show you my hand just yet.”

  That answer didn’t surprise her; she hadn’t really expected him to tell her what aces he held, if any at all. But his explanation didn’t make any sense. “It sounds like you want to put my brothers out of business. But you also say that you’ll allow me to stop that from happening. So, you can understand my confusion. Do you want to topple the corporation or not? Or are you saying you don’t care one way or the other?”

  He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly before replying. “I seek satisfaction for past actions against my family and seeing the Rule Corporation fall would definitely achieve that goal. However, although I want to see your brothers suffer, I don’t particularly care what leads to the suffering—as long as they know it’s at my hands. So it’s up to you whether or not their tower crumbles.”

  At his pointed and too-calm explanation, the panic she’d been valiantly attempting to suppress manifested itself into near hysteria as an immediate, terrifying chill ran down her spine at the thought of his revenge being taken out on her … in a physical way? Holy effing shit. What the hell had her brothers done to his family? Was Garrett somehow to blame? They were all good men, they couldn’t have done anything—it must be some kind of a mix-up. But her faith in her brothers wouldn’t get her out of the fix she was in now.

  Anxiety racing along her veins, she forced herself to breathe and tried to pretend that she wasn’t quietly going ballistic on the inside. “To clarify … these are my choices? Allow you to topple the corporation … or let my brothers suffer another way? How? Knowing that you’re holding me hostage and abusing me daily?” She swallowed and through stone-cold fear, forced herself to go on. “You intend to … hurt me?”

  ****

  Chapter Five

  An immediate crease formed between Max’s brows as his spine jerked away from the back of the seat. “Certainly not.” Although his answer was reassuring, his physical reaction was not. Stiffening as if she’d slapped him across the face, he gripped her upper arms like bands of iron as he hauled her to him, until his face was only inches from hers. “Why the hell would you jump to that conclusion?” His expression turned into lines of aggravation as his unyielding grip sank into her flesh while he pushed the words out one at a time, “You’re never going to feel even a hint of pain at my hands—I’m going to treat you like spun gold. You’ll live the life of a princesa, don’t doubt that for a single second.” His features hardened even more. “Understand me when I say that you are my wife, and you’ll experience all the care and respect the title holds—as long as you are respectful in return.”

  Finding herself held in a death grip, her adrenaline spiked as her nerves made breathing difficult. His wife … a princess … spun gold? She was relieved at the sincerity of his words, but her anxiety level stayed in the stratosphere—how could it not? His hands were like steel cuffs, his words bitten out through clenched teeth. How in the hell could he scare her so badly yet still make her insides go soft and quivery?

  He’d said he wouldn’t hurt her, but just a few hours before, he’d threatened to do her physical harm if she called him ‘Mr. Villarreal’ again. The threat certainly hadn’t sounded as if he’d been teasing—and in no way had it sounded like some kind of foreplay. He’d meant the threat—or so she’d thought at the time—just as he’d meant the threat about locking her up. Hating herself for the weakness she was feeling, her emotions in turmoil, she schooled her features to reveal nothing. “I still don’t understand. How will my brothers suffer if I’m being treated as a … a princess?”

  It was as if all his impatience receded as his polite reserve came back once again, making her wonder about the inner machinations of this man’s mind. She’d never met a guy who could blow so hot and then so cold.

  He released her arms and trailed a single fingertip to her exposed collarbone where he made slow circles, as if her skin fascinated him—as if he couldn’t help himself. “Because they won’t believe you’re being treated as a princess, sweetness.” He seemed to be focused on the touch of his skin against hers, as he continued almost carelessly, “Of course, you’ll tell them the truth—that you’re waited on hand and foot, that you have all my money at your disposal, that I grant you your every slightest wish—but they won’t believe you—and that’s really the point to all of this. They’ll constantly worry that I’m mistreating you—and that you’re lying about it to protect them. They love you—I know this. Therefore, they will reason that their enemy is holding you against your will and, well, let’s just say, they won’t believe that I’m dealing with you fairly.”

  “You are holding me against my will.”

  “No, love. I’m not a monster—as I said before, the choice to remain here must be yours.”

  The look in his eyes said differently—that her choice had already been made—by him. She was unable to express what she was feeling without blowing up, and when she remained silent, he continued, “If you stay here with me, choose to remain my wife, I will promise that all future hostile moves against the Rule Corporation will cease. The revenge I seek will be appeased by the doubts your family will always have about my true agenda.”

  She stared at him while she took three calming breaths. He meant to worry her family for the rest of their lives, while he planned on the two of them actually having a harmonious marriage? It was a messed-up, diabolical plan—and one that was twisting her insides. “I think … I think you’re not a very nice man.”

  His features changed instantly. “I’ve never claimed to be a nice man.” His finger slid from her collarbone to land on the top swell of her breast. His eyes trailed the movement before lifting to hers and impaling her with his heated stare. “But understand me when I say that I’m going to be very nice to you.”

  At the fevered, carnal look on his face, his meaning became clear and her nerves escalated. “Now—now you’re talking about sex?”

  “Correct, sweetness.” he agreed, still not releasing her. A lazy, seductive look came over his features that immediately began to mess with everything feminine in her. “Surely you can’t be worried about intimacy between us? I believe that we’ve proven that aspect of the marriage is the least we have to worry about.”

  As the memory of the orgasms he’d given her deluged her mind, a heated thrill rushed up her spine that she attempted to ignore but found quite impossible. “So you intend for it to be a real marriage?” She swallowed and tacked on, “In the future?”

  He stared at her sharply for a moment before narrowing his eyes. “In the future? Is that your way of asking for time to adjust?”

  “I just want to know—”

  “Well, let me explain. You’re my wife, Erin. If you choose to remain here as my wife, you will be the one—the only one—seeing to my sexual needs.” As his eyes held hers, his touch leisurely moved down to the hollow between her breasts. “I’m not a Neanderthal, love, if you need time, I’m sure I can allow … a reasonable adjustment period.”

  She breathed deeply, forcing herself to hold his gaze, even though his touch was setting off lightning spar
ks along her sensory pathways. “How much time?”

  Instead of giving her an answer, he asked a question. “Is that an agreement, amor? You are choosing to be my wife? Allowing me to keep you?”

  Her heart almost jumped from under her breastbone at his choice of words. Keep her? As if she were a commodity that he very much wanted? A vision of being held beneath him clouded her mind with a frenzy of weakness. “I know that I want you to leave the corporation alone. So this would seem my only choice.” Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, Erin! You’re taking the excuse he’s giving just so you can stay in his damn bed? How freaking weak is that?

  “It’s one or the other, yes. It’s as I stated—I’ll agree to leave the Rule Corporation alone if you’ll agree to stay as my wife.”

  Fighting the dizzying feeling that was taking over her common sense, she asked, “If I choose this marriage, would I be allowed to change my mind later?”

  “Of course. But the promises I’ve made at this time will be off the table.”

  He’d go after the corporation. That’s what he meant. “Cut and dried?”

  He inclined his head. “As you say.”

  “So if I stay as your wife, you’ll leave the corporation alone. And at any time in the future that I choose to dissolve the agreement and go home, all bets are off and you’ll go after my brothers once again.”

  His features hardened. “That about sums it up, yes.”

  So, great. Not only was he stealing her entire future, he was demanding that she be happy and respectful about it. Righteous indignation flowed through her veins and it only pissed her off more that she couldn’t allow it to show. On top of that, she didn’t trust him, and that was a worry that was digging at her. Ignoring the voice in her head to shut it up, she asked, “Can you answer one last question—simply to make me feel better? Do you promise, do you swear right now while looking me in the eye that if I made the decision to go home right now, you’d put me on a plane?”

  A glimmer of something hit his eyes and he seemed to stall—almost imperceptibly—before answering. “Absolutely, love.”