Blackmailed Into Bed

by Heidi Betts

  “I never said you were. I’m simply telling you what it is that I need, and what you can do to help your father save his business.”

  “So you’re asking me to be your mistress. Where you want me to be, when you want me to be there—a living doll you can take out of its box to look pretty and satisfy your physical needs, then put back when you’re finished.”

  He shrugged and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his slacks, causing the sides of his suit jacket to bunch.

  “That’s not exactly how I would have put it, but yes. I need a mistress and you need to buy time for your father to save his company. That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”

  “You bastard,” she muttered with a breathless laugh that was anything but amused.

  “Quite possibly,” he said. “But you’re the one who came to me. And you should consider yourself lucky I’m making you any sort of offer at all. I could have just as easily given you a firm no and sent you on your way.”

  She wished she could argue, but knew he was absolutely right. Coming here had been a long shot, and the fact that he was suggesting any compromise at all was a blessing.

  The question was: did she have a choice?

  If she turned him down, she would have to go home and watch her father lose the business he loved, the company that essentially defined her family and made their name so well-known across Texas and the surrounding states.

  But becoming Chase Ramsey’s mistress…Sleeping with a virtual stranger was a difficult concept to swallow, but she was pretty sure this particular near stranger hated her with every fiber of his being. It was probably the driving force behind his proposition, since she couldn’t picture him sitting across from any other woman who came to his office to discuss business and announcing that he would give her more time if she agreed to go to bed with him.

  She took a deep breath, letting the fresh oxygen fill her lungs and pump through her bloodstream. Her fingertips turned numb from the death grip she had on her handbag.

  “Can I have some time to think it over?” she asked, making sure to keep her voice strong and steady. “Or do you need an answer right this minute?”

  Instead of responding, he pulled his hands from his pockets and returned to his desk. Still standing, he grabbed a sheet of memo paper and a pen, then leaned over to scribble a quick note. Marching back in her direction, he handed it to her.

  When she glanced down, she found a date, time and the name of the local airport. Below that, he’d added the gate number for a flight to Las Vegas.

  “I’ll give you until Thursday. If you show up, I’ll take it to mean you agree to my terms, and your father will get the chance to try to save his company. If not—” He tipped his head and raised a brow. “I’ll continue with my plans to buy out SRS.”

  She heard the underlying threat loud and clear, and left his office with the butterflies in her stomach flapping even harder than when she’d arrived.

  Two

  When Elena arrived home later that evening, she was both physically and emotionally exhausted. After her fateful meeting with Chase Ramsey, she’d gone back to her office and tried, to no avail, to focus on the appointments and paperwork involved in her job as a social worker. Thankfully, she didn’t have any home visits to make and could go over her notes again later, when she was feeling more herself and less…distracted, drained, overwhelmed.

  All day she had heard only four words playing over and over in her head. Chase’s deep, seductive voice saying, I need a mistress.

  I need a mistress…

  I need a mistress…

  I need a mistress…

  And what bothered her most, what sent her mind careening into confusing, dangerous territory, was that every time those words rumbled through her brain, vivid images were quick to follow.

  She could picture him stripped of that expensive suit, all tanned skin and rippling, corded muscles. Hovering over her as she lay stretched across satin sheets, naked and panting for his touch.

  He was an attractive man—a handsome, virile, mouthwatering man—and she was a flesh and blood woman. No one could blame her for entertaining a fantasy or two about him, especially after he’d invited her to share his bed not five hours before.

  What frightened her was that, instead of being outraged as she was initially, she was now seriously considering it.

  Dropping her briefcase at the base of the coatrack just inside the front door, she kicked off her shoes and gave a sigh of relief as she wiggled her toes in freedom. She didn’t usually wear such high heels to work, but the red sling-backs went best with her favorite power outfit, and she’d needed all the self-confidence she could muster to make her way to Ramsey Corporation to face Chase Ramsey himself.

  In her stocking feet, she padded across the highly waxed parquet floor of the wide foyer, pausing for a moment to flip through the pile of mail on the table at the base of the steps.

  She’d lived in this house in Gabriel’s Crossing all her life, but lately had begun to feel uncomfortable and out of place. Maybe because it wasn’t so much a house as a mansion, looking like something out of Gone with the Wind. There were giant Ionic columns out front; a wide, curved staircase directly across from the front door leading to the second-story; and balconies at the back overlooking several acres of beautiful Texas landscape.

  Her father had had it built when Sanchez Restaurant Supply first began to turn a decent profit, and Elena had long suspected the ostentatious design was in part the home her parents had always dreamed of living in, and part proof to anyone who doubted that a first-generation Mexican-American could not only do well for himself and his family, but do extremely well.

  And until a few years ago, she’d loved it here. As a teenager, she’d considered it another status symbol to impress her friends, and she’d taken every opportunity to have sleepovers or pool parties.

  Now, though, without her mother to fill the house with her own brand of love and laughter, the house felt somewhat empty and much too large.

  It was time, Elena knew, to start thinking about moving out. She should have done so years ago, but first her mother had been sick, and then her father had needed her.

  Her sister, Alandra, had stuck around for the same reason.

  Pulling out the letters and magazines with her name on them, Elena started up the stairs and headed for her room. All she wanted was to climb out of her clothes and sink into a nice hot bubble bath. She would light a few candles, turn on some soft classical music, and maybe even pour a glass of wine to sip while she floated away and did her best to forget Chase’s troubling proposition.

  Halfway down the hall, Elena knew it might be awhile before she could be alone with her exhaustion and jumbled thoughts. Her sister’s choice of music—loud, blaring rock and roll—vibrated through her closed bedroom door, and Elena could hear Alandra’s voice singing along.

  She was about to pad by, sneak into her own room a few doors down and attempt to block out the thrumming beat of drums and a bass guitar, when Alandra’s door opened and she stepped out in nothing more than a pale pink chemise-style slip and black stockings.

  Both women jumped slightly in surprise, then Alandra threw her arms wide and rolled her eyes in relief.

  “Oh, Elena,” she called over the volume of the music, which was even louder with the door open, “I’m so glad you’re home. I was about to go downstairs and ask Connie what she thinks of my outfit, but I value your opinion more.”

  She waved a hand, inviting Elena in, as she moved across the lushly carpeted floor and turned off the stereo. The sudden silence was almost deafening, but Elena appreciated the gesture; her sister knew how much the loud music bothered her. At a lower volume, it was almost tolerable.

  “I’ve got a dinner in an hour. We’re trying to raise money for a battered women’s shelter. I’m not in charge this time, thank heavens, but I still want to look good.”

  While Elena perched on the end of her sister’s canopied princess bed, Al
andra went to the closet and pulled out two dresses on padded hangers.

  “Which of these do you like best?” she asked, holding one and then the other in front of her tall, slim body.

  Alandra Sanchez was, quite simply, gorgeous. Olive skin, as clear and smooth as a baby’s bottom, and an hourglass figure were her shining glories. But she’d also been blessed with a pair of traffic-stopping dark brown, almond-shape eyes.

  Elena’s only consolation to being the less attractive sister was that everyone said they looked so much alike, she knew she wasn’t exactly an ugly duckling herself.

  It also helped that Alandra was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for someone, and the more they needed, the more she was willing to give. Personally, financially, it didn’t matter.

  She attended four or five fund-raising dinners a week, just like the one she was getting ready for now, and just as many lunches. She belonged to every “good cause” organization in the state, a few across the country, and a few more internationally: battered women and kids, underprivileged children, life-saving medical research, save the whales, save the wild mustangs, save shelter cats and dogs from euthanasia.

  Alandra’s greatest talent was in convincing others to give both time and money to her many worthy causes. Just being around her seemed to make everyone else care more—and sometimes feel the slightest bit guilty for not feeling so before she cornered them.

  One side of Elena’s mouth curved with pride. Her little sister could charm the scales off a snake and have the naked reptile thanking her afterward.

  “This one?” Alandra asked, breaking into Elena’s thoughts and holding up a sleek black tube dress for her perusal. Then she switched hands and held up one in pale pink with black trim, reminiscent of the Jackie O era.

  In the black one, Alandra would be a knockout. Men would be drooling and falling at her feet. In the pink one, she’d still get more than her fair share of male attention, but those men would at least stand a chance of paying attention to the dinner speakers and getting interested in the cause.

  “The pink one,” Elena said. “Definitely.”

  Alandra nodded and stuck the black sheath back in the closet. “That’s what I thought, but I needed a second opinion. I’ll save the black one for next week when I need to raise funds for the no-kill animal shelter.”

  She grinned, telling Elena she was well aware of the devastating effect she would have in the other dress.

  With a sigh, Elena pushed to her feet, planning to head to her own room while her sister finished getting dressed.

  “Elena, wait.”

  She turned to find Alandra with her arms in the air, her head only half peeking through the neck of the pink and black dress. The tops of her thighs were visible, showing old-fashioned stockings held up by a sexy black garter belt.

  Her sister gave a little shimmy and the dress slipped the rest of the way down. She sauntered over, turned her back to Elena, and held up the long fall of her straight black hair.

  “Zip me up, and then we’ll talk about what’s bothering you.”

  Elena pulled the zipper up. “Nothing’s bothering me. I’m just tired.”

  Alandra shook her head. “Uh-uh. That might work on Pop, but it won’t work on me. I’m your sister; I can read you like a book.”

  She spun around and dragged Elena back to the bed, taking a minute to slip her feet into high-heeled black pumps before crossing her legs and perching beside her.

  “All right, spill,” Alandra said, sounding entirely too chipper for the headache that was beginning to throb at Elena’s temples.

  “Did you do it?” she asked, lowering her voice a fraction. “Did you talk to Chase Ramsey?”

  From the moment she’d first thought of going to the CEO of the Ramsey Corporation for help in saving her father’s business, Elena had confided her plan to her sister. They had been best friends and confidantes since childhood, and shared just about everything with each other. Elena trusted Alandra not only to keep her secrets, but to act as a sounding board to let her know if her ideas were logical or bordering on insane.

  And while Alandra had agreed that speaking with Chase Ramsey was a good idea, neither of them had breathed a word of their intentions to Victor Sanchez. Their father was a proud man and wouldn’t appreciate anyone—least of all his daughters—interfering in his business or coming to his rescue.

  They would only tell him, they decided, if things worked out to their benefit. Otherwise, he need never know what Elena had done.

  Elena nodded, her mind flashing back to every tense, intense minute of her meeting with Chase.

  Alandra’s eyes glittered with interest. “And how did it go? Is he going to help us?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  Elena met her sister’s gaze and murmured in a voice lacking all emotion, “On whether I sleep with him.”

  Her sister’s screech of outrage was comforting, but Elena quickly hushed her for fear their conversation would be overheard. She didn’t think Pop was home yet, but Connie, their longtime housekeeper, could often be found in the hallways dusting or doing other chores.

  Once Alandra had calmed down, Elena filled her in on the details of her face-to-face with Chase Ramsey, recounting every word and facial expression from the time she entered his office.

  “And then he told me that he’d give Pop extra time to try to save SRS if I agreed to be his mistress. He wants me to meet him at the airport for a trip to Vegas if I’m willing to go through with it.”

  From her jacket pocket she pulled the slip of paper Chase had given her, and handed it to her sister. Alandra studied the scrawl before refolding the note and giving it back.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” Elena released a pent-up breath and shook her head, still racked with indecision.

  “Do you want me to do it?”

  Elena gave a bark of laughter, then caught the flat look in her sister’s eyes.

  “Are you serious?” she asked. “You’d do that for me?”

  Alandra shrugged. “For you, for Pop, for the family business. It wouldn’t be that much of a hardship. You did say he was cute, right?”

  She hadn’t, and “cute” wasn’t even close to the word she would use to describe Chase Ramsey’s strong features, fathomless blue eyes and attractive physique.

  “It’s not like I have that much going on in the boudoir these days, anyway,” Alandra continued with a small eye roll when Elena didn’t respond. “And if this guy just wants to get laid, then he probably won’t care which sister he’s with.”

  Elena laughed again, this time in amusement. She threw her arms around Alandra and hugged her tight. “Oh, Alandra, I love you.”

  “I love you, too. And I’m more than willing to take this bullet for you, if you want me to.”

  Elena could just imagine that. The only problem was that when she pictured her sister in bed with Chase instead of herself, she felt a stab of inexplicable jealousy.

  How could that be? How could she be jealous of her own sister, who was willing to sleep with a complete stranger just to save Elena and the family business? And how could she suddenly feel territorial about a man who had made her such a disrespectful offer? Primarily, she suspected, as an act of revenge for what she’d done to him as a teenager.

  “No,” she said, drawing a deep, cleansing breath. “I’m the one who came up with the idea of going to him in the first place. And I’m the one with a past relationship with him.”

  “All right,” Alandra acquiesced, “then how do you feel about Ramsey’s offer?”

  Her stomach jumped at the question, followed by a peculiar, almost traitorous warmth that spread through her breasts and between her legs.

  Lord, could she actually be attracted to Chase? On more than simply the detached level of a woman catching a glimpse of a good-looking man.

  Could the attraction
go deeper? Could she actually be considering saying yes to his proposition? To becoming his mistress?

  A skittering of nerves joined the heat flowing through her bloodstream. She’d never been a man’s mistress before, never been in a relationship based solely on sex. She’d dated a good number of men, and even slept with a few of them, but those relationships had always moved slowly and been based on other things, like friendship, mutual attraction, similar occupational interests.

  Chase had no interest in getting to know her, and she doubted they had a single thing in common other than her father’s company. He wanted her for two reasons only—to look good on his arm at business gatherings and to satisfy him in bed.

  And darned if that idea wasn’t becoming more appealing by the minute.

  Squeezing Alandra’s fingers, she felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes as she met her sister’s gaze. “Is it terrible that I’m thinking of going through with it? And not entirely to help out Pop?”

  Alandra gave a soft chuckle, pushing a strand of hair back from Elena’s face and tucking it behind her ear. “Of course not. You’re allowed to think a guy is hot and want to roll around with him for a while, with or without ulterior motives. I’d be more worried if you thought Chase Ramsey was a dog, but were still willing to sacrifice yourself and your body for SRS. The important question, I think, is how you’ll feel about yourself afterward. Can you chalk it up to one of life’s many adventures while remaining emotionally detached, or are you going to feel guilty or ashamed when it’s all over?”

  Her sister was right, but Elena knew she wasn’t going to make a decision tonight. She had a couple of days before Chase left for Las Vegas, and she was going to take every one of them to make up her mind.

  Chase wished he could say he was unconcerned and uninterested in whether Elena Sanchez showed up today. But in truth, he’d gotten to the airport an hour earlier than he normally would, just in case.

  He’d positioned himself in one of the chairs facing the main area of the airport so he could see everyone who passed by and watch for her.