Betrayed by the CEO

by Clare Connelly

  “I know,” Hendrix nodded. “I know.”

  “Then you have to help me, please!” Her voice had gone up at least an octave, as true terror had set in. “What if I leave the states?”

  “That will work against you in the long term, Chloe,” he said thickly. “You can’t run from this. The threat will always follow you. You’re better to deal with it once and for all.”

  “But how?” She rubbed her temples as though it would relieve some of the pain that was building up in her head.

  “By getting him to legally give up any claim to Ellie.”

  “Okay, good,” she nodded urgently. “How?”

  His laugh was lacking amusement. “Let’s talk about it over dinner.”

  “Dinner?” She shook her head. “I can’t even think of eating. My stomach is in knots. I feel sick at the very idea that William might use Ellie to get back at me!”

  “I know.” Acting on instinct alone, he wrapped his strong arms around her shoulders and crushed her to his chest. He could feel the racing of her heart through his own body, and it stirred pity into the pot of desire and certainty that was bubbling inside of him. Her gaze was murky with worry when she looked up at him. “We will fix this,” he promised, his dark eyes dropping to her lips. Something between them seemed to change, as Chloe realised how close they were standing. She lifted her hands to his chest, whether to push him away or not, and found her fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt.

  “How?” She asked, but her voice was already calmer.

  His breath was warm against the top of her head. “Do you trust me?”

  Chloe studied his face. She hadn’t trusted a man in a long time. She’d loved William, and only William, and it had burned her – badly. She bit down on her lower lip, wondering what it was about this man that made her feel completely certain. Certain that she did, indeed, trust him. That she trusted him with her life. And Ellie’s. She nodded, and then shrugged her shoulders. “Though I’m not sure why,” she added as an afterthought.

  “Does the reason why matter?”

  “I …” She furrowed her brow.

  “Would it make a difference to how you felt, if you knew why?”

  She bit her lip harder, and finally shook her head. “I guess not.”

  His smile was dazzling. It set her temperature skyrocketing and made her legs wobbly. “I’m scared,” she said, though fear, worry and doubt were being rapidly supplanted by desire, lust and want.

  “Then let me promise you this.” He lowered his head incrementally, until his mouth was just a whisper from hers. “I will never let him hurt you or Ellie.”

  A million questions rattled through her mind. Why did he care so much? How could he stop William? And why did he want to? What would he do? And was he absolutely sure he could protect them?

  But before she could ask any of them, his lips had gently pressed against hers. His kiss was tender and reassuring, and all it did was stir up a hankering for more. More of him, and more of his kisses. Her hands moved from his chest to his back, stroking him through the cotton of his shirt, feeling his warmth and strength.

  It flowed into her, emboldening her. “I told myself we couldn’t let this happen,” she murmured against his mouth, leaning forward so that their bodies were locked as one.

  She felt his smile. “It was inevitable from the moment you spilled your handbag,” he responded deeply. His powerful arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her effortlessly off the floor. She was gliding – like a sylph she floated through the flat. “You captivated me, Chloe. You intrigued me. With your quirky sense of humour and the weight of the whole world on your shoulders. Vous étiez tout ce que je serais attend.”

  He switched effortlessly to his mother’s native French, and the sound of the foreign language made the hair on her neck stand on end. For she understood what he’d said. You were everything I’d been waiting for.

  Her heart pounded; and her heart swelled. She was everything he’d been waiting for. The pleasure that simple sentence brought her could not be measured. It was impossible to explain the happiness that the very idea gave to her. She was everything he’d been waiting for.

  Whatever was happening between them, it was as transformative to Hendrix Forrester as it was to Chloe. He was as totally affected by their connection as she had been.

  “Yes,” she laughed, the true joy of the moment bubbling through her. “That’s just how I feel.”

  Only the slight pause gave any indication that Hendrix realized his mistake. His hands stilled against her dress, and his mind reeled. She’d understood his statement. Or rather, she’d misunderstood it. He cursed inwardly at his own stupidity. Of course she spoke French. A lot of Britons spoke French, and vice versa. You were everything I’d been waiting for. And she was! The chance to wield a sword of revenge against his enemy was the ultimate gift. He hadn’t even known he’d been hoping for such an opportunity until William Ansell-Johns’s wife had strolled into his office. She’d provided him with just the chance to act – and he’d acted.

  The thoughts brought a tinge of regret to him, and so he ignored them. In that moment, it was his body that was calling the shots. Not his mind, and certainly not the blood-rage he felt for Chloe’s soon-to-be-ex.

  He lifted his head, his dark eyes sparkling in his face with emotions Chloe couldn’t possible decipher. But he’d stopped kissing her, and he’d stopped running his hands along her back, and she couldn’t possibly bear it if he were to stop altogether. She knew, with a blinding clarity, in that moment, that she wanted to make love to him. That she didn’t care what happened afterwards.

  It was a doorway that had to be gone through. Not at a sedate walk, either. No, she wanted to bolt through it and into her future, come what may. A garden or a cemetery could await her on the other side, but whatever it was, she’d survive. She’d coped with William; she could cope with anything.

  She linked her fingers through his, and tugged his arm gently. “Come with me,” she murmured, leading him through the lounge.

  He followed.

  How could he not?

  Her bedroom was exactly as it should have been. It screamed ‘Chloe’. From the crisp white bed linen to the startling black and white photographs taken around Manhattan, to the assortment of paperbacks littering the top of her dressing table, it was both charming and elegant. Just like Chloe.

  Alone with him, in her room, nervousness shifted in her gut. He saw it. He understood. His mouth sought hers, kissing away her doubts. Urgency was by his side; he pulled at her clothes, uncaring if he ripped them or not. Her breath was rushed; it burst from her lungs fast and deep. Her hands were shaking as they pushed his pants down, and they shook more as they lifted his shirt. Her eyes glowed with need – a need he completely recognized as a reflection of his own desires.

  “God,” she laughed unevenly. “I haven’t done this in a really, really, really long time.”

  He studied her face, and ignored his heart. He listened to her words and ignored his thoughts. Was it right? Was it wrong? Hendrix sure as hell didn’t know. He only knew he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to stop it. “You’re nervous.”

  Her eyes lifted to his. “Yes.”

  A simple admission, so sweet for its profound honesty. His hands were dark against her skin. He curved them over her shoulders, and ran them the length of her arms. “Don’t be.” He unhooked her bra and discarded it, almost groaning at the sight of her breasts as they spilled out of the fabric. He cupped them in his palms, and stroked her sensitive flesh. “Don’t be nervous. Don’t think. Just feel.” He lowered his mouth to the base of her neck and nipped the flesh there. “Just feel this.” He walked forwards, nudging her back, until her legs connected with the bed and she fell against the soft mattress. She giggled quietly in surprise and he kissed her, purely to silence her.

  “Hush,” he threatened, running a finger between the valley of her breasts.

  She nodded, her expression mockingly seriou
s.

  “I mean it, Chloe. Don’t wake her.”

  Her smile was pure seduction, though Hendrix knew Chloe didn’t realise it. “Then don’t make me laugh.”

  “Oh, I don’t intend to.” He slid a finger between her legs, his eyes searing into hers as sensations tripped through her body. She was trembling instantly, the panic in her face obvious as the tumult of feeling overtook every shred of rational thought she possessed.

  “Hendrix,” she moaned, lifting her feet onto the bed and arching her back. She dug her nails into his smooth skin and cried out softly as he teased her with his touch.

  Her skin was like satin. He ran his tongue along her sweet curves, tasting her and worshipping her. Goosebumps danced on her flesh and she danced beneath him; her hips moved in time to the music he was creating. And he felt it, too.

  The need to bury himself in her was impossible to ignore. Any wish to take things slowly evaporated the moment she began to tip over into an intense orgasm. She stared at him as though he was an absolute marvel; her whole face changed, and her eyes shone.

  He paused only long enough to protect them from any complications, and then he plunged deeply into her, pushing through her moist tightness. He felt her body respond to his invasion, and forced himself to wait. To seek reassurance that his unfamiliar presence was okay with her.

  “Please,” she whispered against his ear, digging her fingernails into his toned buttocks. She pushed her hips up, inviting him in further, and he groaned as he thrust into her completely. Again and again, he moved within her, and his mouth stayed on hers. His tongue lashed hers, echoing the movements of his whole body. His hands were captive to her breasts; or was it the other way around? His fingers sought to cover every inch of her, delighting her nipples to the point of pain.

  She wrapped her legs around him when it became too much to handle, and pressed her mouth against his shoulder to stop from crying out. But the lack of noise didn’t reflect the emotion Chloe was feeling. Her whole body was tingling from the way he made her feel. It was so much better than it had been the other night.

  Then, they hadn’t slept together, but she had thought he’d shown her new heights of pleasure and want. And he had. But nothing compared to this. For as long as she lived, Chloe knew she would never tire of that sensation.

  Just as her breath began to slow, he moved again, and again, stoking the flames anew.

  “How can I feel more?” She begged softly, unable to believe that her nerve endings were ramping up for yet another slow, excruciatingly delightful release. “How can you do this to me?”

  “We do it to each other,” he promised thickly, fully aware it was true. Nothing else entered his head at that moment, except for the sheer beauty and perfection of coming together with Chloe.

  His body ached for release, but only when he felt her come apart in his arms did he give in to his own needs. He kissed her as they soared through the heavens together, his mouth moving over hers when she would have cried out in pleasure. And he held her, afterwards, while he waited for the world to tip back on its axis.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “You’re not coming to this meeting either?” Chloe fixed him with a steady gaze in her mirror, as she slid a diamond stud into her ear.

  Hendrix, fully dressed and leaning indolently against the wall of Chloe’s bedroom, couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d spent every night with her for the past week. Making love to her, and then dreaming about her, and then reaching for her from his dreams, to make love to her again. And the murkiness of what he was doing was becoming a bog of quick sand.

  “No.” He wasn’t ready to make his move yet. The moment he brought the news crashing down around William Ansell-Johns’s smarmy little face, he wanted to know it would be perfect. And he wasn’t sure yet.

  “Oh.” Her blue eyes blinked rapidly, and she reached for the other earring, fingering it from one hand to the other.

  Guilt had become his constant companion, and now it tapped him on the shoulder, making its presence impossible to forget. “Clint will be able to handle this. It’s a formality, little more.”

  She nodded, but she was holding something back.

  “What is it?” He prompted, moving to stand behind her. He could feel her warmth through the flimsy silk blouse she wore, and the faint outline of her creamy lace bra was visible. He ached to strip the clothing from her and take her back to bed, but they both had work to do that morning.

  She sucked in a deep breath for strength. She hadn’t wanted to need him. She had wanted to stay strong and independent. But now? The thought of facing William terrified her. And she wanted Hendrix by her side. “Nothing.” Her watery smile showed it to be a lie.

  Her hair was pulled up in a bun, high on her head. Hendrix knew her face so well he could have sketched it with his eyes shut. His eyes traced her familiar features, and then settled on the earrings she often wore. “Where did you get these?” He asked, lifting a finger to her ear and tapping the diamond.

  “Oh.” She lifted the other one to her ear and fitted it in place, her eyes not meeting his while she concentrated on the task. Her cheeks had a betraying flush of pink. “They were a present.”

  He made a sound of understanding but didn’t let the matter drop. “I presumed as much. From whom?”

  Chloe scanned her appearance in the reflection. She’d found the suit at a thrift shop and it fit her perfectly – the pencil skirt, blouse and jacket all in almost-new condition. She toyed with her necklace, while the nerves she’d been feeling all morning jangled even more intently in her gut.

  “From whom?” Hendrix repeated darkly.

  “William,” she said finally.

  Hendrix bit back on the curse that was at the tip of his tongue. They had been married a long time, and William had a trust fund the size of the Grand Canyon. Of course he’d bought her expensive gifts. But the fact she still wore them made his chest hurt now.

  And she was wearing them to this meeting.

  The meeting William would be at.

  He moved away from the mirror. He didn’t want to see the emotions on his own face. And he certainly didn’t want her to, either. This was about making William suffer. He wanted William to feel jealous. Enraged. Angry. Impotent. Hurt. Hendrix had no business feeling any of those emotions. Not about Chloe, and the fact she’d once been married to the man.

  With effort, he smoothed his expression, and fixed a bland smile to his face. “Clint will be with you this morning. And I’ll meet you afterwards. Okay?”

  She nodded jerkily. “It’s just …”

  “What? What is it?”

  I’d feel better if you were with me. She bit down on the statement. She didn’t want to admit to him just how badly she needed him. Nor did she want him to know how totally he gave her strength and courage. “Nothing.” Her smile was distracted. “I guess I just feel weird about seeing William again. You know. It’s been a long time.”

  Hendrix couldn’t have put into words how much he hated the idea of William seeing her, either. Of seeing her like this, so gorgeous and desirable. Of looking at her and mentally stripping away her clothing; of indulging his memories of their marriage.

  Worse. Would William threaten her? Would William scare her?

  “I’ll be fine,” she reassured him, as though she understood that he was having doubts about the wisdom of leaving the meeting to Clint to handle. “I’ll have Clint. And your big security guys are right outside, right?” Her smile was brave. So brave it broke his heart. “I’ve dealt with him before, Hen.”

  Hen. The shortened version of his name that only his sister had ever used. It was the perfect reminder of why he was doing this. What he needed to do, to honour the woman William had callously killed. “You can call me if you need me,” he softened, knowing she wouldn’t.

  “I know.” She scooped up her bag, sliding it over her shoulder. “Let’s go. There’s no time like the present, as they say.”

  Hendrix watched as Chloe
cuddled Ellie in farewell, hugging the sweet little girl tight to her chest and planting kisses on the mop of fine fair hair. Ellie smiled against Chloe, and then pushed her arms out to Hendrix. He reached down and tussled her hair.

  Chloe watched the interaction with mixed feelings. Ellie’s affection for Hendrix was obvious. And Hendrix was wonderful with her. But Chloe had the distinct impression that she’d been rash in welcoming him into their lives so completely. He’d overpowered all of her defences and every single bit of her rational thought. She’d spent the last two years making decisions with Ellie in mind, and now she’d brought someone into their lives who may not have planned to be around for very long.

  The very idea chilled her heart, but she had to acknowledge it. She squeezed Ellie a little tighter, hoping with all the hope in her heart, that she wasn’t being completely selfish by indulging her own needs, just this once.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she promised, her voice thick as she handed Ellie to Georgia.

  “No rush. We’re going to have a great day,” Georgia reassured Chloe. Her eyes lifted to Hendrix’s face. “Just take care of things. We need to know it’s all sorted, once and for all.”

  They trusted him. Chloe, and now Georgia. They both looked at him as though he was going to wave a magic wand and make everything perfect. A muscle worked overtime in his jaw.

  He didn’t want them to be wrong. He wanted to fix this. By the time his driver pulled up out the front of the high rise that housed his offices, he could see that Chloe was a bundle of nerves. And despite the plan he had to throw his relationship with Mrs Ansell-Johns in William’s face at the opportune moment, he heard himself offer, “I can cancel my meeting and come with you.” And it wasn’t an empty promise, either. He would have done it in an instant.