by Delka Beazer
Give Me All Of You
Chapter one
Mina closed one file and reached for another, a movement from the corner of her eyes drew her gaze to the heavy mahogany door of her home office. It swung open silently on its well-oiled hinges.
A distinguished head of gray hair peeked in, polite green eyes met hers. “May I come in?”
A sharp stab of resentment pierced her. She shoved the thick file to the corner of the mahogany desk, forced a wintery smile to her lips and nodded.
Hermile Bronswort, her father, made his way into the room. This was the epicenter of their hotel and resorts empire which sprawled throughout the Caribbean and Latin America.
It had been his enclave for the last thirty years until several months ago when he had supposedly passed control over to her, his only child.
Mina’s gaze narrowed on the perfectly sleek coif of his hair which as usual boasted not a strand out of place.
He wheeled himself to a stop in front of her desk.
An ache shot through her at the sight of her formerly robust and aggressively healthy father restricted to the cruel conformity of a wheelchair, courtesy of a horrendous automobile accident several years before.
She nipped the inside of her lip hard to stop that train of thought. Hermile detested only a few things, betrayal and weakness. He had never tolerated either from her or anyone else.
They weighed each other for several tense seconds.
She stiffened, she wouldn’t break the silence and give him the opportunity to claim the upper hand.
He relented. “How is the building going on Jacobe Aisle?” His green eyes were bright and eager at the newest and by far riskiest venture for their struggling company.
Try as she might she couldn’t deny that she shared some of the same enthusiasm. It thawed a tiny particle of her heart.
She shrugged, wrinkled her nose. “On schedule … so far.” She scoured her father’s face, apart from enthusiasm, nothing else showed in his eyes. At sixty his strong aquiline features were still sharp and handsome, his face a perfect mask for his thoughts.
This had always irked her, even more so now when she knew what he was really asking. “Hunter is fulfilling the role you gave him,” she winced at the slip.
This was exactly what she didn’t want to talk about but try as she might she had to forcibly swallow the next thought which sprang rebelliously to mind.
Hunter would never get a chance to play the role her father had in mind for him.
Hermile wasn’t fooled for a second, his eyes lighted with a small flicker of triumph and sly amusement. He had been waiting for her to stumble.
Mina grounded her teeth but remained stubbornly silent.
“I’ve read the papers.” His voice was deceptively mild, uninterested, as though he had dismissed her earlier comment about Hunter.
If only. He was bidding his time, waiting for the right moment to outflank her.
Her fingers clenched on the ballpoint pen she’d forgotten she was still holding. She forced her fingers open. She watched as the pen slid across the smooth, glossy surface of the table and came to rest against the wall of files in the corner.
She sucked in a steadying breath, “And? What enlightening tidbits have you gleaned from the news this time?”
Hermile didn’t answer, instead he wheeled himself towards the tall, elegant bay windows behind her desk which looked down onto the lush grounds below.
She turned to watch him.
He stared out at the vast expanse. “They’re jabbering that my hiring Hunter was a dumb mistake. Some even called it racially insensitive.”
She sucked in a harsh breath. Bitterness poured into a deep well of rage and immediately boiled to the surface inside her. It threatened to choke off her air supply.
Her eyes became slitters. “And whose fault is that, Dad?”
Hermile pivoted to face her, his face belied his abrupt movement. Rather than anger, his expression was neutral. Except for his eyes, they were cold and filled with distaste.
For her outburst.
She recoiled from the lack of empathy she’d grown to detest in him. He hated her decision to impose limits on the things they were willing to do to salvage their failing company.
He pushed towards her and the harsh grinding sounds of the wheels of his chair bit unforgivingly into the aged wooden floorboards beneath her feet. It sounded like a pained groan in the tense silence of the room.
She reared back instinctively not because she feared physical abuse but because her father’s stare from this close could melt the flesh off a grown man.
As expected, he pierced her with green ice. “Don’t you dare talk like that to me young lady. The deal I made was for your future,” he hissed savagely, crushing the words into tiny pieces.
She tossed her head back and shrieked, furious that she couldn’t just leave the room, but that wouldn’t solve the problem.
He’d done it for her future?
The idea was downright laughable.
And she would laugh if she could muster the extra strength to divert away from her anger, but there wasn’t nearly enough to go around.
She glared at him, pouring all of her pent-up fury into her eyes. She thrust herself forward over the desk. “You’re such a hypocritical liar. You’re doing this for you,” she spat, “not me. I’m simply the tool you want to use to accomplish the only thing you’ve ever cared about.”
His eyes snapped shut as if she’d struck him, his chest rose and fell rapidly as he battled against whatever kind of demon rode him.
She hoped it was the demon of pain.
Her eyes smarted as their gazes remained gridlocked.
There was no pity in his eyes, none. Fresh evidence of his callousness brought about the same old response. She was helpless to stop the sense of control slipping away, her mouth trembled.
He was bent on selling her, his own child. And he expected her to go meekly along like some mindless twit from the Dark Ages.
He blinked first, breaking their silent confrontation and had the grace to look away. Then he turned back and she flinched at the change of tactic.
There was no longer cold distaste in his gaze, instead his eyes were naked, vulnerable like a crushed leaf. There was nothing he wouldn’t stoop to.
She didn’t have to take this. She lunged from her seat, away from him and his cruel manipulations.
Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. He was once again trying to twist her right to choose. That’s how this insane scheme of offering her like a platter of meat to an unknown stranger in payment for his architectural talents had come about.
He watched her race across the office. “I’m doing this for you Mina, this is your heritage, our family’s legacy,” his voice was hoarse with pent-up emotions. “You’re a Bronswort, you cannot allow the business our family took two hundred years to build to go under because you don’t have the stomach for some sacrifice,” he finished scathingly.
Mina stopped in her tracts and quivered. She muffled a wordless cry of rage. She was damned either way. The Bronswort hotel and resorts was her life. It had been in her family for several generations.
It was the only thing that hadn’t changed, hadn’t been torn apart by pain and loss.
It was in danger of doing so now.
Because of her.
She ached to scream in his face.
How dare you pin all your hopes on me!
But she couldn’t.
Wasn’t she the CEO of their company? Shouldn’t she do whatever was necessary to save it?
She would, but this …. this was asking too much. It would require the last part of her that she could possibly give, the most vulnerable and easily broken part.
; She raised a hand to her eyes, it came away wet. With mounting horror she rubbed a hand further along her cheek. It was moist, soaked, she’d been crying without knowing it.
Angrily she rubbed away the tears. She looked through him. “I can’t do this,” she flinched at the whine which had crept into her voice. She was begging. She had sworn she wouldn’t beg him.
He was her father, his job was to love and protect her.
But her breakdown had an immediately negative effect. He recoiled from her as though she’d just blasphemed God. The narrow lines of his face went stiff with intense disapproval.
He turned away from her and she knew she’d lost him.
She stormed through the door. He made no move to follow her. She had expected that. Her father didn’t follow, he commanded. He’d done it her whole life.
Within seconds she was at the foot of the huge, winding staircase which dominated their Georgian Mansion.
Outside she slid into her car. It was only later as the tears finally dried up and the emptiness inside her hardened into a cold lump that she realized where she was headed.
Towards the cause of all her turmoil.
Hunter Roades.
The men’s attention fell away like dried autumn leaves and Hunter needed only one guess as to the reason why.
Mina.
Hot on the humid wind blowing across his face, he caught whiffs of the creamy coconut shampoo she used in her hair.
The smell of her skin was not far beyond, citrusy and fresh, it mingled with the coconut and produced a musk that would enslave any man’s senses.
Hunter eyed his workers frigidly. A few were already grinning like besotted idiots as she drew near.
He frowned but kept his annoyance in check and his back firmly to her.
There wasn’t much he could do about the men or … himself he reasoned starkly.
He turned without warning, wanting to catch that first glimpse of dislike which always colored her hazel eyes whenever their gazes clashed.
Instead he caught a gossamer glimpse of something raw and painful in her eyes before her customary scowl overtook her flawless oval face.
He sighed. Obviously he’d just imagined that something had caused Mina pain, it was more likely the other way around.
He shrugged and returned her withering stare.
Unfortunately for Mina, her unconcealed dislike didn’t matter.
She needed him. More specifically her company needed him.
And that made him a lucky man. He allowed a small smile to play around his mouth.
It should be impossible, but her gaze grew nastier as she stopped in front of him. Her entire body tensed with unconcealed animosity.
The corners of Hunter’s mouth tilted up into a cocky smirk.
He enjoyed riling her. And she succumbed to it like a moth to a flame.
She did her best to look down her cute nose at him, though he stood nearly a foot above her.
Damn but he loved when she tried her best to grind him beneath her heels. She was a magnificent woman, carved from fire and ice.
And soon she would be his.
He let his gaze slide insolently down the long length of her golden thighs, exposed in white linen shorts, they left miles of satiny flesh to glisten tantalizingly in the sun. He took his time, then traveled back up to her small furious face with its high cheekbones, thick lashes and a bulk of curly ebony tresses.
Then he met her icy glare. Her eyes were narrowed, and they glittered with malice.
He cracked a toothy grin. “Good to see you Mina.” He meant it. Too bad the feelings still weren’t reciprocated.
Her eyes became stonier, then she turned and looked past him, shading her eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun.
He followed her gaze towards the foundation being dug directly behind him.
His smile faltered, his lips thinned. It was all she or her father cared about. The thought sent a chill through him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have agreed to Hermile’s desperate bargain but it was done. He couldn’t see himself backpedalling, because he’d have to relinquish his claim to Mina, and that he would never do.
“How are things going?” Her tone was brisk, efficient, her eyes avoided his. “I hope you’ve been working instead of hanging out,” she snapped rudely, not waiting for a response she stared pointedly towards the sea which glistened in the afternoon sunshine.
He reminded himself to be patient, she was just letting off steam for some reason. He was used to her wasp’s tongue.
But he couldn’t help but bristle at the condemnation in her tone. He’d bet ten to one that she’d just driven from the perfectly calibrated, air conditioned comfort of her mansion office.
He yanked a measuring tape from the back pocket of his jeans. “Perhaps you’d like to climb down into the foundation and calculate the level of cement we’ve poured today.” Her eyes flared as hurriedly hushed snickers came from the men. “I’m sure from that comfy vantage point you’ll be able to do the math, figure out how long it took us to dig the hole, mix the cement and pour it,” he raised his eyebrows in innocent expectation.
Her cheeks flamed and her soft lips unlocked. He forced himself to look away from her mouth and turned to his men. He’d had enough of an audience.
Joseph, one of his foremen stood off to the side of the group. He had a round face but there was no cheer in it, only a closed unfriendly expression. Hunter didn’t particularly like him but he was competent and more to the point, Hermile had hired him.
“Joseph, take the men to the next foundation. Start prepping it.”
He watched until the men turned the corner and was out of site before facing her again. There were a few things he needed to clarify with Mina Bronswort.
“Need I remind you that I’m still working for free?”
Her breath hissed in, her eyes widened with consternation. “That was my father’s idea,” she responded acidly.
She meant to say more but he held up a hand, halting the all too familiar litany he was growing tired of.
He pinned her with unflinching eyes. “You keep saying that. Why don’t I believe you? You and your father are desperate to save your crumbling company and you expect me to buy your cock-n-bull story that offering me your hand in marriage as payment for my architectural expertise was solely his idea.”
She stuttered and took several steps back as though he’d attacked her. Which he supposed he had, in a way.
But he was having none of that. He was tall and strongly built, and as an added bonus he was also very agile, courtesy of good genetics and constant manual labor.
He advanced on her with slow, deliberately powerful steps, she fell back. It was about time somebody put the little miss in her place.
He raised an impudent brow. “Are you running away from me?” He taunted softly.
She froze in her tracks, and drew herself up to her insignificant height which only brushed the top of his shoulders. Defiance bled from every pore of her rigid, delectable frame.
Her hazel eyes flashed an arrogant warning. “Why would I be afraid of one of my employees?” she challenged.
She tipped back to stare into his eyes. “No matter what agreement you reached with my father to save my company, I’m in charge now, and you will never share my bed.”
Hunter flinched inwardly from the stinging cut of her words but that didn’t deter him a bit.
She was making promises he could not let her keep. And to top it off, she thought talking down to him would put him in his place, like a lowly servant who’d leapt too high.
The little princess was sadly mistaken. He had not come this far because he was faint hearted or foolish.
He towered directly over her. He was so close that if he dared he could reach out and trace the individual lines of her long, sooty lashes.
She must’ve read the longing in his eyes, because she cringed back from him.
His mouth flattened. She hated the thought of his touch. How would she tolerate
being in his bed where he had much more than touching planned?
The picture made him see red.
He gritted his teeth and forced a careless laugh, it came out sounding dry. He eyed her with cynical amusement, “Is that what you think, that I’m slaving away for the chance to share your bed?”
“Isn’t that what you’ve demanded?” She burst out hotly, her voice high and indignant.
Her uncontrolled outburst went like a bolt to his groin. He closed his eyes for a few seconds to hide the raw need which burned inside them. She would probably run screaming if she knew that her show of anger was only unmasking the passion he’d always sensed beneath her surface.
It only made him want her more.
He tried to focus on something else. Her outburst had also contained an edge of fear, pain, the same emotions he’d glimpsed in her eyes when she’d first arrived.
Was she, under all her bravado, afraid of him? Terrified of the practical implications of the pact that he’d made with her father?
Good. He reared back, and allowed a low chuckle to rumble in his chest.
She jumped at the sound but didn’t retreat another step.
That was even better.
She was his perfect match. With lightning speed he reached out and caught her shoulders in a gentle but firm grip.
She recoiled, lashing out at his exposed arms, tearing at his skin with pristine and unfortunately sharp nails.
She left a trail of burn marks along his arms.
He ignored the minor sting but shook her lightly, “Stop behaving like a selfish child Mina.”
Her head snapped back and she glared murder up at him.
He held her furious eyes in a relentless grip, but loosened his fingers on her shoulders. He fought against the urge to smooth the callused pads of his fingers over her silky skin.
He bored into her eyes. “You didn’t have to go along with this. You’re strong, fierce. You wouldn’t have stood by and let Hermile trade you to me without some small part of you wanting it.” He had to believe that.
Deep inside he’d caught the faint pull of her body’s awareness to him. He needed to believe that it was longing which could lead to … desire. The thought tantalized as much as it drove him on.