REVENGE REVEALED

CHLOE FISCHER

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To fighters everywhere

You inspire me…

P R O L O G UE

achel heard the yelling from her suite
on the second floor and her instinct was
to ignore it. After all, it wasn’t like she

didn’t hear her father and brother going at it almost
daily, their fights growing worse with each passing
year.

Luke was a man now, no longer the scared boy who
used to cower back and endure their father’s hard
hand. He was lashing back, a fact that only
incensed their father worse.

Nothing to see here, she reasoned, shame flooding
her at the thought. What could she do to stop them?
Luke did everything in his power to protect her
from the abuse their father inflicted upon him, and
or course, their father pretended that he was
innocent whenever she attempted to intervene. It

was just another day in the life of the busted
Vaughan family.

Rachel was beginning to believe that the only way
for it to stop was through the death of one of them.

Poor Luke, she thought, gritting her teeth together
as the voices grew louder but suddenly she realized
that it wasn’t two males arguing from the main
floor but Luke and a girl. The knowledge abruptly
made her much more interested in what was
happening.

Who could that be now?

She rose from her computer desk and ambled
toward the door of her sitting room, her ears honed
to the trouble brewing below.

“…I swear to God, Luke! If you do this…” the girl
trailed off menacingly. There was unmistakable
misery in her tone, and the words caused a shiver to
roll through Rachel’s body.

“Col, you need to get out of here,” her brother
growled. “You’re causing a scene and security will
come along.”

Rachel wondered if it was security that worried
Luke or their father. Either way, Carter was likely
to hear about whatever these theatrics were about –
and he’d take it out on her brother. Silently, Rachel

willed the woman to go also.

“You’re going to regret this, you asshole!” the girl
below howled. “You will, I swear to God!”

What is this drama all about? The ten-year-old
wondered, her curiosity overriding her inherent
sense to mind her own business. If it had been a
conflict between her dad and brother, she would
have popped her headphones on and prayed that it
didn’t turn physical, futile a hope as that might be.
Their father only knew how to communicate with
his fists where Luke was concerned, and it seemed
Luke had long since learned to deal with it.

But this was different. This wasn’t a family issue.

Maybe I can actually help Luke this time, she
thought, hope filling her. So many times, she’d
longed to play hero to her brother the way he had
for her. Not that Carter had ever laid a hand on her,
but their father had other means of being cruel,
ones which would leave deeper emotional scars
than Luke’s physical ones.

Before Rachel could stop herself, she was at the
landing of the center staircase, peering down into
the foyer, ignoring her gut instinct to leave well
enough alone.

Below, Luke stood, his massive frame defensive,

arms crossed over his broad chest as he glowered at
the half-sobbing, half-screaming blonde before him.
At seventeen, Luke was bigger than most of their
father’s friends, towering and intimidating as he
stood over the girl.

Collette…what is she doing here?

Last Rachel had heard, her brother had broken up
with the unbalanced girl. It seemed that Collette
wasn’t taking the parting well.

Or maybe she’s taking it too seriously.

Rachel was still far too naïve in the ways of
relationships to fully understand what was
happening.

“I’ll have a driver take you home,” Luke said
firmly, using his body to block Collette from
entering the house any further. From where Rachel
sat, she could see that the blonde teen was not
amenable to that idea in the least.

“I don’t need your damned driver!” Collette
howled. “I need you! Can’t you see that? We’re
meant to be together!”

Rachel wasn’t sure who to feel sorry for. There was
a naked plaintiveness in Collette’s tone, the pain
cutting into the younger girl even from the distance
between them. But her loyalty was always to Luke

and if Luke wanted her gone…

“Is everything all right, Mr. Luke?”

Harry appeared in the foyer, his body nearly
bursting out of his too-tight suit. Rachel’s heart
caught in her throat.

Darn it. Now Daddy is definitely going to hear
about this.

“Everything’s fine,” Luke said quickly, casting
Collette a warning look.

“EVERYTHING IS NOT FINE!” she screamed.
“You’ve ruined my life!”

“Come on, Miss,” Harry said, reaching for her arm
to escort her off the property.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!” Collette
shrieked, wrenching herself away from the house
guard. “YOU DON’T TOUCH ME!”

“Collette!” Luke snapped, his patience expiring
entirely. “You need to go home!”

Rachel watched the scene in embarrassed disbelief,
unsure of who was at fault there. Even at her young
age, she knew her brother’s reputation for breaking
hearts but the anguish in Collette’s voice was
almost too much for Rachel to bear. She wanted to
run downstairs and tell Collette that everything

would be fine, but of course she didn’t dare.

As if sensing her standing there, Luke suddenly
turned, his eyes boring into hers.

“Go back to your room, Rachel,” he growled in a
tone so low, she was surprised she heard it. Or
maybe she only imagined he said it. In either case,
Rachel didn’t move. It was like she was frozen in
place, waiting for the next scene to unfold.

“No! Let your sister see how you treat women! She
should know that her brother is a piece of shit!”
Collette snorted with derision in her tone. Rachel
was instantly defensive.

Luke doesn’t treat women badly. He’s the very best
person ever. You’re crazy!

Of course, the child said none of these things.

“All right, that’s enough, Miss,” Harry sighed,
seizing her arm firmly. Collette screamed as though
his touch was made of fire but Harry didn’t ease
up, marching her toward the door.

“Harry, take it easy!” Luke snapped, his eyes
flashing but the security man either didn’t hear or
didn’t heed Luke’s warnings.

“You’ll regret this!” Collette howled again. “You
mark my words!”

The door slammed behind her with finality as Harry
managed to wrangle her out of the house, leaving
nothing but a heavy silence in the front of the
mansion.

“Go back to your room, Rachel,” Luke muttered
after the initial shock of the display seemed to wear
off.

“What happened?” she demanded, unmoving from
her spot at the top of the staircase. “Why was she
so upset?”

Luke looked at her as if debating whether to
explain what she’d seen.

“She wasn’t ready to break up,” he sighed
reluctantly.

“Then why did you break up with her?” Rachel
wanted to know, her young mind uncomprehending.
It wasn’t like the girl had any basis of male/female
relationships, not when their mother had died years
earlier and their father was never around. Sure,
there had been a string of bimbos coming and going
through the house, but none who had stuck and
certainly no one to introduce Rachel to the way
two adults were meant to interact. Rachel had
certainly never seen a woman fight so hard to stay.

It had been humiliating to watch, and Rachel

vowed then that she’d never find herself begging
anybody to remain in a relationship with her.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” he replied,
spinning to stalk out of the front of the house and
out of her view. The answer did nothing to alleviate
the feeling of desolation Rachel had picked up from
Collette.

I hope she’s okay, Rachel thought, reluctantly
returning to her suite, her heart hammering. She
decided to look Collette up on Myspace and send
her a message on her wall, even if it might mean
upsetting Luke.

Maybe she could do something to get them back
together. Maybe Collette would be her sister one
day if Luke and her got married. The idea filled her
with childish excitement and she sat at her
computer, searching for her brother’s now-ex.
She’d always wanted a sister. As much as she loved
Luke, he didn’t understand what it was like to be a
girl with girl problems.

But before she could put her small fingers to the
keyboard, there was a knock at her door.

“Come in,” she called and Luke poked his head
inside the front room, a look of contrition on his
face.

“Hey,” he mumbled. “Can I talk to you for a
second?”

“Yeah.”

She turned away from the screen guiltily and hoped
he didn’t see what she was up to.

“Sorry you had to see that,” he said, not meeting
her eyes. “Collette…she’s not okay.”

Rachel stared at her brother. She idolized Luke but
she couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t more like
their father than he thought. It wasn’t something
she would ever say to his face, of course.

“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to
understand all the secrets of adulthood. Luke
seemed uncomfortable and he paced around the
room, eyeing her nervously.

“You’re too young to understand stuff like this,” he
muttered, more to himself than his sister but Rachel
was hanging off his every word.

“Tell me,” she insisted, feeling slightly defensive at
the generalization. She and Luke had been forced
to grow up faster than most kids in their situation.
Granted, there was almost eight years between
them, but they only had one another. Being shut-
out by her brother wasn’t an option.

“Some girls are…” he trailed off, considering his
words carefully, perhaps realizing that whatever he
said might shape his sister’s world view for the rest
of her life. “Some girls don’t know when to walk
away.”

“Boys too!” Rachel said angrily. “It’s not just
girls!”

“Boys too,” he agreed quickly. “Sometimes people
read too much into what’s happening around
them.”

It was an odd statement given their upbringing.

“Collette didn’t want to break up but she’s not
someone I want to be with,” Luke rushed on like he
just wanted to get out of there suddenly. “It’s not
my fault. She’s just not…she’s not someone I see
myself being with.”

“Why not?” Rachel insisted. “She’s nice and she
loves you.”

“We’re too young to be in love,” Luke snapped
with far more force than Rachel was used to
hearing from him. “I’m not looking to get married. I
don’t even know if I’m going to be here next year.”

The words slapped her in the face. On some level,
she’d always known that Luke would be leaving
the mansion but to hear the words in the open was

something else altogether.

“What?” she gasped and Luke’s face twisted into a
grimace, as if he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

“I’m just saying I can’t commit to a relationship
right now. Why am I discussing this with a ten-year-
old?” he grumbled to himself.

“Because I’m your sister!” she retorted, her
maturity shining through. “And where are you
going next year?”

“I’m going to college,” he reminded her but Rachel
couldn’t help but feel he meant something else.

“Anyway,” Luke continued. “Don’t worry about
Collette. She’s all bark and no bite.”

Rachel didn’t know what that meant but it didn’t
alleviate any of the tension mounting in her gut.

“She was pretty upset,” Rachel offered, peering at
her brother with inquisitive blue eyes. “Are you
sure she’s okay?”

“I can’t worry about everyone!” Luke exploded,
his face turning beet red. “I’ve got enough to think
about right now!”

Hurt pierced Rachel’s heart as she realized that he
was talking about her.

“Okay, Luke,” she breathed, looking away. “I
understand.”

But she didn’t. There was so much she had to learn
about the world yet, things that she could only
know from watching the men around her.

So far, she had an abusive father and a playboy
brother from whom to glean information. The
future seemed bleak somehow.

“Good,” Luke sighed. “Don’t worry about Collette
and focus on yourself. It’s the only way you’re
going to survive.”

Rachel already knew that advice was trite. What
was the point in living if she didn’t care about other
people? Compassion and kindness overcame hate
and evil, didn’t it?

“Okay,” she said, keeping her opinion to herself.
There was no point in arguing with Luke or her
father. She knew that already.

“And make sure you never become clingy and
needy like Collette,” Luke offered as an
afterthought. “You don’t need any man to validate
you, Rach. You learn to be self-sufficient. If I ever
hear that you’re acting the way Collette just did, I’ll
kick your ass, okay?”

Rachel swallowed the lump forming in her throat

and managed a weak smile, knowing that he would
never raise a hand to her. He was her protector,
after all.

“All right.”

Luke turned away, leaving Rachel to stew in a
cauldron of mixed emotions.

Luke’s right, she thought firmly. I’ll never make an
awful scene the way Collette did in some boy’s
house. I’ll have more pride than that.

But as her brother disappeared into the hallway,
closing the door behind him, Rachel wondered if
she wasn’t in for a very lonely life ahead of her if
she didn’t permit herself to love and trust the way
Collette had.

You’ll be smarter, she vowed. You won’t let anyone
break your heart. You’ll know the signs and hold
your head up always.

Sadly for Rachel, she proved to be a terrible
prophet.

“G

C H A P T E R 1

ood morning, Mrs. Jeffers,” Rachel
sang softly, pushing the tray inside the
facility-style bedroom. “How are you
feeling?”

Silence met her question and a familiar sense of
dread shot through Rachel as she hurried in to
check on her patient. To her relief, she saw that the
eighty-six-year-old was merely sleeping and had
not passed in the night.

Quietly, Rachel moved the breakfast tray closer to
the bed and checked Mrs. Jeffers’ pulse before
inching back out of the room and leaving the old
woman to her rest. There was no point in waking
her.

Although she might want to enjoy her waking hours

while she still has them, Rachel thought with a
morbid undertone, uncharacteristic of her usual
optimism.

Maybe it was the overcast day which had her in a
slightly melancholy mood, with dark clouds
hovering over the New York skyline with the
impending threat of rain.

Or maybe it’s just the endless ring of death in this
place.

“Uh oh. Did Mrs. Jeffers croak?” Grayson asked,
and Rachel raised her head to meet his eyes
reprovingly.

“What have I told you about using more tact when
discussing the patients?” she said reprovingly,
feeling like a hypocrite.

He doesn’t know what I was thinking, Rachel
reminded herself. But that didn’t make her feel any
better. Grayson shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

“You know what I mean,” he replied. Rachel’s
mouth turned down at the corners, stifling a sigh of
exasperation.

“Grayson, these are people,” she recited, giving the
new nurse the same lecture she’d given dozens of
others over the years since she’d started managing
the upscale hospice in Queens. “You need to show

them some respect.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled but Rachel knew he wasn’t.
Not really.

Not that she entirely blamed him for his apathetic
approach to the patients. This was where people
came to die. It was inevitable and everyone knew
it. Getting too involved with the patients would
break all of them. There was a reason why the staff
turn over was so high at the hospice. The faint-of-
heart just could not handle the haunted halls of
Hollywell Hospice.

“Go check on Alison Cooper,” Rachel said with
exasperation, knowing that her words had basically
fallen on deaf ears. Grayson seemed happy to be
released and practically bounded down the second-
floor hallway toward the Cooper room.

“He’s such a greenhorn,” Fergie muttered, stepping
out of another room. “How long do you think he’ll
last?”

“Long enough, I hope,” Rachel replied, sighing
heavily. “The turnover in this place is ridiculous
and frankly, I’m starting to feel like a robot training
new people.”

“I don’t know why you stay here, Rach. You could
be on your own private island, having your feet

rubbed by a cabana boy and being hand-fed
grapes,” Fergie growled. “You must be a sadist or
something,” she muttered.

Rachel bristled. She wished that Fergie would quit
raising the topic of her family’s fortune at every
opportunity. It bothered her that her co-worker had
learned of her true heritage, something she had
managed to keep hidden from everyone in New
York - until Carter Vaughan had passed and she had
attended his funeral.

From the time she had graduated high school,
Rachel had been determined to make it on her own
without her father’s money. Thankfully, Luke had
been there to support her financially through
nursing school, much to Carter’s chagrin. Her
father had been dead set against Rachel’s desire to
pursue a career helping others.

“You have a future with the company!” Carter had
protested, disgusted. “Why would you waste your
life changing bedpans?”

“Nursing is more than changing bedpans, Dad,”
Rachel groaned in disbelief. “What’s wrong with
wanting to give back a little?”

“You can give back by helping me run Vaughan
Industries. Your name is on the company for
Christ’s sake!”

So is Luke’s, Rachel had wanted to say but she
resisted the urge. The subject of her brother was a
sore one and Rachel knew that her hope of playing
peacemaker between them was nothing more than a
pipe dream. As much as her brother would loathe to
hear it, she knew that in some things at least, father
and son were cut from the same stubborn cloth.

Slowly, Carter had released his hold on her, perhaps
realizing that she wasn’t ever going to be the
daughter he so desperately wanted. It had been
relatively easy for her to start her life alone and on
her own terms, Carter leaving her to her own
devices as she furthered her career in the health
care industry. No one had ever made the
connection between her and Carter Vaughan – until
the day of his funeral.

The goddamned media. I could have happily lived
my life without anyone being the wiser if Carter
hadn’t dropped dead.

Overnight, people who had known her for years
without being aware of her relationship to the
conglomerate CEO suddenly saw her mourning at
his casket. It didn’t take much for them to make the
leap and Google her name thereafter.

“I stay here because I like helping people,” Rachel
replied shortly for what felt like the hundredth time.
“I stay here because this is my job.”

Why do I have to explain myself to these people?
It’s none of their damn business.

“Why would you even want to work, let alone in
such a depressing field?” Fergie insisted and Rachel
gritted her teeth, her dismal mood growing worse. It
was going to be a dark day, even if no one died.

“I’ve got to check on something,” Rachel lied.
She’d done her rounds for the morning but she
didn’t want to stay chatting about her father’s
money with Fergie anymore. There was no point in
explaining that she had been moderately estranged
from Carter Vaughan before his passing, her father
aghast by his only daughter’s career choice. Not
that it was surprising—altruism and Carter were
never synonymous. That didn’t mean she wasn’t
saddened when he’d died rather abruptly a year
earlier.

She made her way to the ground floor office, her
mind on too many different things that morning.
Flopping onto her swivel chair, Rachel ran a hand
through her silken black mane that framed her
delicate face gracefully.

The phone rang and Rachel snatched it up, eager
for a distraction.

“Hollywell Hospice,” she answered, forcing a false
cheer into her voice. “Rachel speaking.”

There was a slight pause and some static.

“Hello?” she tried again.

“Uh, yes. I’m calling to arrange a tour of your
facility for my father. Hollywell Hospice was
recommended to me.”

“Our patients deserve only the best of care and
empathy during their time with us.” Rachel said,
proud of Hollywell’s mandate to give dignity to
their clients. “May I ask about his condition?”

“Does it matter?”

The question surprised her. Rachel was torn
between the deep resonance of the man’s voice and
the abrupt tone in which he had asked the question.

“Well, yes…in order for our team to give your
father the best care possible during his time in
hospice, we need to know about his condition,
diagnosis and prognosis, as well as his doctor’s
certification of his need for hospice care,” she
replied delicately.

“Right, I should know all this,” the man sighed.
“I’m sorry. He’s got terminal cancer.”

“He’s decided to terminate any further treatments
then?”

There was another pause and Rachel found herself

annoyed and curious by the man’s lack of response.

The questions aren’t getting any easier, buddy, she
thought with exasperation.

“I’m sorry, sir, I know these questions are painful
but we want to ensure that Hollywell is the best
facility for your father and that we have as much of
his information as possible to make his time here
comfortable and nurturing,” she explained softly.

“Maybe it would be better if I just come in and
speak with someone face to face,” he said, his tone
curt. After another pause, the voice on the other
end asked “What’s your name again?”

“Rachel Vaughan. I’m the manager here. And you
are?”

“Damien Smythe.” He replied after a moment.

“When would be a good time to set up an
appointment, Mr. Smythe?”

“What about today?”

Rachel found herself shrugging at his suggestion,
even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

Why not?

She looked at the desk calendar, knowing that there
was nothing booked for that day. It wasn’t like the

hospice was overflowing with people or that she
had appointments day in and day out. The idea was
to create a peaceful environment. Rachel was
certainly not opposed to someone wanting to come
in person though. It was her job to ease all their
worries and let them know that their family
member’s last days would be dealt with
appropriately, compassionately and above all,
respectfully.

“Does one o’clock work for you, Mr. Smythe?”

“Sure, Ms. Vaughan,” he replied. “I’ll be there.”

“What is your father’s name?”

To her surprise, the call was already disconnected
and Rachel was left staring at the receiver in her
hand.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was
off about the caller but in stressful situations,
people often acted contrary to their usual selves.

If my dad was dying, I’d probably sound a little
weird on the phone … or maybe not.

She realized suddenly that her own father was
weighing heavily on her mind that day. It was a
small wonder she was in such a bad mood.

Rachel picked up a pen and jotted the appointment

into the calendar before turning her attention
toward the computer screen. Without thinking, she
punched the name, “Damian Smythe” as if guided
by some unseen force. She saw she had likely
misspelled it, as most of what popped up had
Damian with an “e”.

Instantly, her breath caught in her chest as her eyes
fell on a man in his early thirties, too sexy to be on
anything but the cover of People. His dark eyes
seemed to bore into her even from the thumbnail
photo before her, his angular face chiseled and firm
as if moulded from clay. He seemed more a Roman
god than the CEO of…what now?

Her

eyes

honed

the

information

accompanying his profile.

Achilles Technology.

Was that where she knew his name?

A closer inspection of his dark hair and enigmatic
eyes didn’t spark any more recognition, but Rachel
couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him from
somewhere. It didn’t matter—she’d meet him face-
to-face soon enough.

Hello Mr. Smythe, she thought, a twinge of
familiarity touching her gut but before she could
identify it, the feeling was gone. With renewed

interest, she clicked on the first article she found,
still unsure if she was reading about the same man
with whom she’d spoken.

There was nothing more than his company’s
history, a Forbes 500, publicly traded enterprise
which he had apparently started himself. In fact,
there was nothing of mass interest at all except his
birthday and no record of a wife or children.

Get a grip on yourself, Rachel. Even if this is the
same guy, he’s a Gemini. Walk away.

She was beginning to wonder if she’d been drugged
at some point during the day. She was thinking like
a fool but even as she told herself that, she couldn’t
stop gaping at his handsome face, hoping that she
had found the right man.

The voice certainly fits, she thought, his
mesmerising tone still reverberating in her head.

A knock at the door caused her to jump guiltily and
she quickly closed the screen before anyone could
catch her cyberstalking a stranger.

“Come in,” she called quickly. Fergie appeared, a
grim look on her ebony face and Rachel instantly
felt her heart sink.

“Who is it?” she asked, knowing the look instantly.

“Mr. Jackson.”

“I’ll notify his wife,” she sighed and with a heavy
heart reached for the phone. Fergie nodded but
paused before turning away.

“I’ll never understand how you can do this instead
of claiming your family’s fortune,” Fergie muttered.
“This is a thankless job without a happily ever
after.”

Rachel held back from going over her reasons, yet
again.

“I don’t know who ever told you that life had a
happily ever after, Fergie, but I hate to tell you that
they lied. We’re here to ensure the last days of our
patients are peaceful and to help their families deal
with the loss when it happens.”

Fergie bowed her head and Rachel knew this loss
weighed heavily on her as well.

“Maybe,”

she

agreed,

pivoting

leave,

presumably to prepare Mr. Jackson’s body. “But I
just don’t see how you can keep doing this ... you
connect with the patients more than anyone else
here. If I were you, I’d run while I had the chance.
You have a perfectly good out from this suffering.”

Fergie didn’t wait for Rachel to respond, closing
the door behind her quietly. Rachel exhaled a

whoosh of breath before moving to pick up the
receiver again.

But you’re not me, Fergie, Rachel thought,
manipulating the keyboard to flip through the
contact list on her computer, her ear pressed to the
earpiece as she looked for William Jackson’s home
number. You’ll never understand how important
making it on my own is and how detrimental taking
my father’s money would be for me.

Not long ago, Luke had made her an offer he
thought she wouldn’t be able to refuse either.

But here I am, she thought, her eyes falling on
Esther Jackson’s phone number. And not for the
first time, she wondered if her pride wasn’t getting
in the way of her better judgement. Maybe Fergie
was right. Maybe at some point she would want to
retire to an island somewhere in the middle of
nowhere and forget about the heartache the world
doled out in spades — for now, she relied on the
emotional strength she had, to see beyond her own
discomfort and continue to ease her patients’ pain.

Besides that, abandoning her job and career would
also mean that Carter would have won and even in
his death, Rachel wasn’t ready to concede that fact.

Luke made it completely on his own and helped me
through school. I didn’t need Dad’s money then and

I don’t need it now.

Rachel knew she couldn’t let Fergie get into her
head but when Esther Jackson broke into gut-
wrenching sobs in her ear after learning about the
death of her husband, Rachel couldn’t deny that
being enshrouded in grief was not the best way to
live.

Or maybe that was precisely the reason she’d
chosen the job in the first place. After all, sadness
was the primary emotion of her childhood. Almost
every memory she had was layered in it – except
for those moments where Luke snuck her away
somewhere

and

they’d

have

thrilling

brother/sister time.

He’d often sneak her out of the house on a sunny
summer afternoon and take her to the small lake
that was on their property. It was more of a pond
really, and guarded from view of the main house by
a thick copse of trees. There, he taught her to swim
and skip rocks – it was one of her favorite
memories of all.

Another time, he had come to her room after dark
and woken her cautiously with a finger to his lips to
guard against her making a sudden noise. She
would have been about six years old. He led her to
the second-floor window in the upstairs study and
hoisted her carefully through.

They had sat together on their slanted roof for two
hours, watching a meteor shower and eating the
chips that Luke had stashed up there. Chips were
her favorite snack, but Carter had forbidden the
cook from buying them. That meant that Luke had
used his money and secreted the snack away just
for her.

He had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders to
keep her warm and taught her about the
constellations. She didn’t remember a single one of
them, but the memory of the freedom and
camaraderie with her brother was crystal clear in
her mind.

But besides for those scarce moments of happiness
with Luke, her childhood had been bleak.

Maybe that’s why I gravitated to this field? Or was
it to try to alleviate the sadness from other
people’s lives? Maybe it’s the only emotion I’m
really capable of feeling…

C H A P T E R 2

ne o’clock came faster than Rachel had
expected. She had almost forgotten about
her appointment with Damien Smythe

except that somehow, the attractive face she’d seen
on Google had managed to linger in the back of her
mind, despite the heaviness of the day.

Esther Jackson had come to say goodbye to her
husband of fifty-six years and Rachel had made
arrangements for the funeral home to take him. She
couldn’t help but feel that Mr. Jackson’s death was
only the beginning to a series of events she couldn’t
yet foresee.

Fatalism never suited you, Rachel reminded herself
when she got back to the office. You are supposed
to be the optimistic one.

She paused as the soles of her flat shoes touched
the main floor of the Victorian styled house, her
heart skipping a beat when she saw a man who
could only be Damien Smythe standing in the foyer.
He was alone and seemed too large for the small
space as he looked about with a slight frown on his
face. He hadn’t seen her yet, giving Rachel the
opportunity to study his too-handsome face with
wide, disbelieving eyes. Impossibly, he was hotter
in person than he had been on the computer, but he
most definitely was the same person she had found
online.

Even from the slight distance between them, she
could make out the intensity of his almost-black
eyes burning through thick dark lashes. His hair
was more dishevelled than it had been in the photo
- thick and wavy - longer than the image she’d seen
earlier.

Still, he reeked of money in an expensive suit,
standing at least six foot three with the toned body
of a man who worked out religiously.

I wonder when he finds the time, she mused,
knowing the cost that running a top notch company
took on one’s personal time. She stalled a bit longer
before making her presence known, her ladyparts
suddenly catching on to the prime specimen before
them and jumping up and down and blowing fog

horns to let her know that they were available for
an interview with the man too.

Rachel swallowed back her annoying libido and
forced herself into his line of sight.

“Mr. Smythe?” she asked, blushing as she heard the
odd pitch of her voice. His gaze rested on her, his
eyes widening with an interest that hadn’t been
there a moment earlier.

“How did you know?” he asked in the same deep
tone which Rachel recognized from the phone.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone else today,” Rachel
explained, striding toward him with her hand
outstretched. He took it and released it just as
quickly, barely allowing Rachel to enjoy the
warmth of his touch against her soft fingers.

“Let’s go in my office and we can discuss your
father’s situation,” she suggested, gesturing toward
the closed door just beyond the foyer.

“Fine.”

Damien’s demeanor was brusque, hard to identify.
He seemed to be both hot and cold, eyeing her with
an undeniable interest in his eyes but keeping her at
bay simultaneously.

He’s not here for a date, she reminded herself. No

one likes having to deal with the idea that their
loved one is dying.

“Can I get you a coffee or—”

“No,” he interjected. “What can you tell me about
this facility?”

He’s right down to business. All right.

Rachel loathed that she was disappointed by his
lack of interest. She was embarrassed by the
attraction she felt for the man.

“I assume you’ve been on our website,” Rachel
said, sitting and gesturing for him to do the same.
He seemed reluctant but he eventually lowered his
large frame into a chair, his eyes fixed on her.

“You are Rachel Vaughan, aren’t you?” he asked
quite unexpectedly. Her brow furrowed.

“Yes…” she replied slowly. “I’m the manager and
head nurse of this facility.”

“How long have you been here, Rachel? May I call
you Rachel?”

You can call her anything you want if you massage
her hooha, her traitorous clit shouted in her mind.
She tamped down that body part too. Great – pretty
soon all that’ll be left able to speak to him is my
brain.

Oooh, whispered her brain, I like the idea of the
massage…

“Of course, Mr. Smythe.”

He didn’t tell her to call him Damien, and that
oddly disappointed Rachel.

“So? How long have you been here?” he asked,
sounding slightly impatient.

“Six years. I was promoted to management four
years ago.”

“Interesting – you must have made a good
impression to be promoted so quickly,” he
responded with a hint of surprise in his tone. A
touchable dimple appeared briefly on his cheek.

“And what do you do, Mr. Smythe?”

One sexy eyebrow raised, as if he was surprised at
her audacity to quiz him.

“I own a company,” he replied vaguely. “Please tell
me about this facility.”

Somehow, Rachel felt like he was avoiding her and
sizing her up at the same time.

“Well, like I said, all the information, as well as a
virtual tour are available online. Should I take you
through the site?”

“Not now,” he replied shortly, sitting back to lean
an ankle over the knee of his left leg. “I was hoping
for a more humanitarian approach. You can provide
that, can’t you?”

Rachel’s ire was growing, she was getting the
impression that Damien didn’t trust that she was
fully capable of running this institution. He had
absolutely no reason to doubt her or her job ethic.

His way of seeking to make her uncomfortable for
no good reason made her realize that he was no
different than any of the hundreds of men who had
come in and out of her family home when she was
a child. He was trying to get the upper hand by
making her feel like she was incapable.

That’s disappointing. I would have liked for him to
be a rich guy without the attitude, for once.

Rachel knew she would just have to draw upon her
inner rich girl, difficult as it was. She had almost
completely forsaken that part of her life, for good
reason.

She offered him a frigid smile of her own, sure it
didn’t come close to reflecting in her eyes.

“I am sure you will find Hollywell very
accommodating, but as I explained on the phone, I
would need to know a little bit more about your

father’s condition before we go any further.”

“You’ll know everything you need to know if I
decide he should stay here.”

“I feel like we’ve somehow managed to get off on
the wrong foot, Mr. Smythe, although I can’t say I
understand why,” Rachel told him bluntly. “My job
is to ensure that the best quality of care is provided
for each of our residents. You mentioned on the
phone earlier, that we were recommended to you,
so I can only assume that the dignity, compassion
and quality of our care were not being questioned. I
also assume you would want your father to be
cared for with that same empathy and humanity. I
don’t really understand why you seem to be
circumventing my questions and yet questioning
Hollywell’s ability to assist your father. I have
nothing to gain by your father’s admission to this
facility.”

He was clearly taken aback by her frankness, his
eyes enlarging slightly but Rachel also couldn’t
miss the appreciative glint in his eye.

“You have a sale to make, don’t you?” he retorted
with some crassness. Rachel bristled at the idea.

“If you’re implying that I make some sort of
commission, you’re sorely mistaken,” she growled,
inexplicably hurt that this man, this stranger,

suspected the worst of her without knowing the
first thing about her.

“Really?” He sounded dubious. “You don’t make a
bonus if the beds are filled?”

Rachel ground her teeth together, attempting to
steel her temper.

“If that’s how you feel, Mr. Smythe, then maybe
you shouldn’t be looking into hospice residences.
Perhaps home health care is a better option for your
father.”

You can certainly afford it.

Although Rachel knew that Hollywell had an
excellent reputation, and often catered to the more
elite families in society, she understood that some
people preferred to keep their loved ones at home.

She knew she shouldn’t judge him. Every situation
was different and money was only a small factor as
to why someone wouldn’t want a parent to die at
home but Rachel’s dislike for the man was growing,
despite her inexplicable attraction toward him.

I’d angry fuck him—if he promised not to talk, she
thought, her eyes falling on his full mouth with
annoyance.

“You’re not a very good salesperson, Rachel.”

His tone was mocking and a smirk was playing
around his mouth, bringing the dimple back into
play. Rachel was less impressed by that this time. In
fact, she was about two seconds away from sending
him out the door.

What is he even doing here? He doesn’t want to set
his dad up here.

“Like I said, Mr. Smythe, this isn’t a sale — despite
your implication that I have something to gain from
“filling beds”, my primary concern is for your
father. If his illness has progressed, as you say,
beyond treatment, the remaining days he has in this
world deserve to be as comfortable, dignified and
peaceful as is humanly possible for him.” She
paused briefly, trying to keep her tone conciliatory
and professional. “You requested this meeting, Mr.
Smythe, but I get the distinct impression you came
here to insult me for reasons I don’t claim to
understand. Perhaps an alternate hospice would be
advised.”

Oddly, a look of contrition fell on his face and he
lowered his eyes for the first time.

“I apologize,” he said quietly. “You’re right. This
entire situation with my dad…”

He trailed off and Rachel felt a familiar spark of
compassion shoot through her.

I shouldn’t have been so rude to him either.

“I do understand, Mr. Smythe. This disease is cruel
and losing a loved one to it, especially a parent,
evokes any number of emotions. The decisions
you’re faced with in navigating his care are
stressful and extremely overwhelming.” she said
softly, leaning over the desk and willing him to
meet her eyes. “Why don’t we try this again, all
right? Tell me about your father and his needs.”

Damien raised his head, holding her gaze for
several moments before nodding slowly, a deep sigh
escaping his mouth in a rush.

“He’s got stage 4 cancer,” he explained. “All we
can do now is keep him comfortable.”

“I’m very sorry. May I ask which hospital has been
handling his care? I can send for a copy of his
medical files if you have power of attorney for
him.”

“That’s the thing,” Damien muttered. “I don’t and
he’s too stubborn to sign.”

A prickle of apprehension shot through Rachel.
This would make matters more difficult, certainly,
but it wouldn’t be the first time that children had
tried to make plans for their parents’ future without
their parent’s consent.

Depending on the situation, a court order could be
issued but that would depend on the mental fitness
of the patient.

“Where is he now?” Rachel asked, reaching for a
pen. “I could contact him and advocate on behalf
of Hollywell.”

“No!” Damien said sharply, causing her to look up
in surprise.

“He doesn’t know you’re here,” she concluded and
Damien darted his eyes away again.

“No.”

“I see.”

She settled back against the high back of the leather
chair and chewed on her lower lip. Again, she was
struck by the sense that she knew this man from
somewhere but it was a fleeting notion as he, too,
leaned forward to meet her gaze.

“He needs full-time care, Rachel,” Damien insisted,
his gravelly voice a throaty growl. “My sister and I
have been trying to convince him for a year now
but he’s pigheaded — it’s part of the reason the
cancer has progressed as far as it has.”

“Having siblings can help. You and your sister
could petition the court in this matter—”

“No!”

Rachel’s mouth parted in shock as she stared at
him, unsure of why he was yelling at her.

“It was just a suggestion,” she muttered.

You came to me! She wanted to bark at him but she
managed to hold back.

“My sister…she’s finally happy in her life,” he
muttered. “She can’t be a part of this – I won’t
have her happiness jeopardized by this.”

“Okay…”

Rachel wasn’t sure if she was endeared or put-off
by his reaction.

Luke would have reacted the same way if he was
sitting in that chair. He would do anything to
protect me from stress. But I would deserve to
know. It’s not Damien’s place to shield his sister.
She has just as much a right to decide on their
father’s limited future.

“Look, he won’t let anyone take care of him. But
he can’t take care of himself either. He’s just too
damn stubborn to admit it,” Damien growled.
“Never mind, I’m not sure why I bothered to come.
You wouldn’t understand.”

I don’t, Rachel agreed silently, never having

experienced that protective and loving bond with a
parent, but she could definitely understand the
stubbornness of a father that wouldn’t listen.

After all, her childhood had been based on it. And
no amount of pleading on her part had ever
changed her father’s course of action.

Rachel remembered hearing terrible stories of her
father’s actions when she was a child. How he
would obliterate any obstacles in his way, people or
otherwise, without a humanitarian care for the
destruction he left behind. She often wondered if he
reveled in it.

She realized suddenly that she wanted to
understand this man before her though, despite the
nagging warnings that seemed to be flashing before
her eyes like police sirens.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what else to tell you, Mr.
Smythe,” Rachel told him raising her shoulders.
“Without your father’s consent—”

His stare continued to pierce her, and the possibility
of the nature of the thoughts behind the enigmatic
penetrating gaze were causing her blood to sizzle
with awareness. She was sure the attraction was on
her side only, but she’d have killed to find out what
he was thinking in that moment.

She wasn’t sure if he was angry at her for not being
able to solve his problem – when she had no power
to do so – or if he was trying to think of a way to
get his father to see things from his point of view.
He obviously cared about the man and what was
best for him in his final months, but Rachel would
bet that the father was as strong willed as his son
seemed to be – and as unwilling to bend.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

The fact that her jaw didn’t hit the desk was a
miracle in itself.

“I — I’m sorry?” she asked, sure she’d misheard
him.

“Dinner. Do you eat dinner?”

“I-no-I, what?” In her shock, she realized she was
sputtering but the invitation had caught her
completely off guard.

“I just feel like we could have a more in-depth
conversation in a less formal setting,” he explained.

Is that it?

Damien stared at her expectantly and Rachel’s
pulse quickened. A little voice in her head told her
to refuse, that it was unethical to have dinner with
the son of a potential patient.

Potential is the operative word. It’s not really a
breach of ethics. Hollywell can call it lobbying.
Hell, I might even be able to write it off as a client
dinner.

“You’re busy,” he said, rising.

“No! No, I’m not,” she heard herself say before she
could stop the words. “I’m off at six.”

“Perfect. I’ll have a car come for you.”

He turned toward the door as Rachel slowly rose to
her feet, her head swimming from the entire
conversation.

“Until tonight, Rachel.”

And as abruptly as he had entered her life, Damien
Smythe left with Rachel completely thrown into
confusion.

What the hell was that about? She wondered, but
she couldn’t deny that her heart was racing at the
anticipation of seeing him again.

“W

C H A P T E R 3

here to, Mr. Smythe?”

It was a valid question but not

one that Damien could readily answer.

“Just drive around a bit, George. I need to get my
head on straight,” he told the driver.

“Everything okay, Mr. Smythe?”

Damien eyed the man who peered at him through
the rear-view mirror of the limousine and
considered the query.

“I’m not sure,” he finally answered truthfully, not
at all pleased with the way things had just gone.
“Just drive for a bit, please.”

The chauffeur didn’t argue and Damien lifted the

privacy glass between them, turning his attention
out the window to watch Hollywell slip away as
George pulled out from the curb.

That did not go at all as I expected, he thought, the
image of Rachel Vaughan etched in his brain like
she’d been burned in with a soldering iron.

But what had he expected really? It came as no
surprise that she had matured into a stunningly
beautiful woman. After all, he and his father had
been keeping a distant eye on the Vaughans for
years, biding their time.

What did take him aback, was her passion. The
crystalline blue of her eyes seemed to pierce his
soul, when she’d been justifiably telling him off. He
knew he had acted like an arrogant SOB, letting the
real reasons for approaching her, direct his handling
of her. The fact that she effectively took him down
several notches, forcing him to respect her on a
level he was not expecting to, surprised him. The
fact that she informed him, in no uncertain terms,
that she only had his father’s best interest at heart,
shocked him even more so, given what the Vaughan
family stood for — dollar signs.

Damien found himself sincerely looking forward to
the date he’d arranged for them that night. If only
to give her a chance to let her true self shine
through to him.

Don’t be stupid, he chided himself. It’s not a date.
Not really.

But even as he tried to reason with himself, he
knew that he had been undeniably attracted to
Rachel Vaughan.

Shocking, Damien thought sarcastically. A Vaughan
manipulating you. What a surprise.

He knew better than anyone the ways of the
Vaughans, their aptitude for deception and the way
they could ruin one’s life.

Beautiful or not, she’s not going to fool me. But I
AM going to have to fool her for this to work.

All those questions she was asking, about his father,
meant Damien had some research to do, before
their meeting that night. He, thankfully, knew little
about cancer, much less terminal cancer, since his
father was in no way touched by it. Damien would
not be caught off guard again. If this plan was going
to work, he’d have to do his homework, and not
assume he could just intimidate Rachel into taking
his father into her facility.

Damien couldn’t help but scoff at the false façade
she projected to the rest of the world. He knew that
behind the fake, benevolent front she showed the
world, her family’s fortune continued to grow as

they ground innocent people down under their feet.

He was sure that they had all planned her supposed
“career” to make the family look altruistic. But he
also knew there wasn’t a philanthropic bone in the
Vaughan family’s entire crypt, never mind the
current reigning siblings.

But she had seemed so sincere in explaining how
important it was to provide empathy and
compassion to her patients and their families. Just
went to show what a great actress she had become.
Or possibly, she had gotten cut out of the will?

He immediately discarded that idea when the
memory that his father had described to him filled
his mind. Of Rachel, laughing at his sister’s
humiliation. Her cruel childhood taunts adding to
the already burning weight that had plagued his
sweet and innocent sister.

He forced himself to harden his resolve again ... He
didn’t care about her finances. He had not agreed
to this plan for money — he was wealthy in his
own right. No, what he wanted from Rachel and
her brother was something completely different.

Dammit ... Why did she have to seem so damned
warm and sincere?

He hadn’t been expecting that either, regardless of

the fact that Rachel was a hospice nurse. As his
father had explained to him time and time again, it
had been a brilliant strategic move to improve the
harsh reputation that Carter had created for his
family.

How horrible could a family be if they had
produced someone who was so warm and caring as
to practically donate her life to taking care of
terminally ill people? They must be good people,
right?

It made him sick to think of the sham that family
portrayed, the utter bullshit of it.

Who cares what everyone else thinks? All that
matters is that the Vaughans learn their lesson. An
eye for an eye, and all that.

He steeled his resolve and hardened his will.

His brain scoffed at his tough talk, as it pointed out
to him that something else had hardened while
thinking about his upcoming meeting with Rachel.

Fuck. Don’t get distracted by her pretty face now,
he lectured his cock. Or her lithe body. Or her long
silky hair that he suddenly pictured wrapping his
fist around as he pulled her head back for a kiss.

He silenced his libido and re-affirmed what he
knew of the sibling pair that had been the focus of

his plan for years.

Then he silenced the nagging doubts formulating in
his mind – determined to keep her cast in her role
of manipulation, right down to the very patients she
cared for. She had to be getting something out of
this! The Vaughans had no consciences and would
do anything they could to get ahead.

She probably robs the corpses or something. Steals
their drugs.

The inane thoughts didn’t make him feel any better
but it also didn’t slow the momentum of the plan. It
had been in the works for far too many years and it
was past time to put things in motion.

“George,” he said suddenly, lowering the glass
again. “Take me to the house in Bay Ridge.”

“Of course, Mr. Smythe. Should I call ahead?”

“No,” Damien replied. “I’ll call.”

George abruptly guided the stretch limo into the left
turning lane and Damien glanced at his watch.
There were several hours before his impromptu
date with Rachel. It hadn’t been his intention to ask
her out, but the meeting had not gone according to
plan at all.

Who would have thought that she’d invite him very

primly to seek other hospices or even home care?
The dynamic he had planned to create with her had
been skewed from the start.

He had expected her to practically jump on him and
the idea of getting his father placed into the
hospice. He certainly hadn’t expected her to feel
for his father’s plight.

Or possibly she had seen through his attempt to
maniplulate her. Could that be it? Was he actually
being manipulated by her?

The thought made his resolve harden even more.

If that’s the case, she won’t know what hit her when
I’m finished.

His family would never be hurt by hers again.

The plan was in motion and they were going all the
way.

The limo pulled up outside the Colonial style house
on the water and George hurried around to open
the door for him.

“I won’t be long, George,” Damien told him and
the driver nodded.

Damien made his way up the flagstone pathway,
noting the slight bite in the September air, as if the
weather longed to turn but the summer wasn’t quite

finished with them yet.

He paused to ring the bell, looking back toward the
New York Harbor.

“Mr. Damien!” Rosalin cried. “How lovely!”

He flashed the housekeeper a warm smile and
allowed her to usher him inside.

“Why you no come visit more?” Rosalin
demanded. “I ask and Mr. Franklin tell me you
busy with your company, no time for us.”

“That’s not true, Rosa,” he replied gently. “I always
have time for you. But he’s right—the company
does keep me busy.”

“You need wife, babies,” the middle-aged woman
insisted and Damien couldn’t resist a smile.

“You keep promising to set me up with one of your
granddaughters,” he reminded her. She scowled.

“You are too good for those gold-digging putas,”
Rosalin whispered in a loud voice. Damien snorted.

“That’s your family!” he protested, amused at her
liberal tongue. Rosalin shrugged.

“I speak the truth. I no want to see you used for
your money, querido. You are good boy. You find a
good woman with hips to give you children, not

these selfie-taking cholas who no understand a
good man when they see him.”

A pang of uncertainty touched Damien’s gut.

I wonder what Rosa would say if she knew what I
was doing with Rachel Vaughan. She wouldn’t think
so highly of me then, would she?

“Is he home?” Damien asked, eager to change the
subject and she nodded, patting his cheek
affectionately.

“Yes but he in one of his moods.”

“What else is new?” Damien asked dryly. “Where
is he?”

“Sun room.”

“Thanks, Rosa.”

“I make you something to eat. No woman want to
marry a skinny man.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Rosa hurried off toward the huge kitchen,
Damien made his way toward the sun room where
Franklin sat, smoking a pipe.

“That’s a filthy habit,” Damien greeted him.

Franklin didn’t look up as he grunted.

“Filthy habits are what makes the economy go
‘round,” the older man replied. “Can you imagine
where the world’s economy would be without
drugs, alcohol, tobacco or firearms?”

“In a state of peace?” Damien offered. Franklin’s
mouth became a fine line of disapproval.

“What have I told you about bringing your left-
wing propaganda into my house?”

“I like how I say ‘peace’ and you automatically
consider that an attack.”

“Damien, did you come here to discuss your
ridiculous socialist views or do you need
something?”

“I made contact with Rachel Vaughan today.”

Franklin’s head whipped around to look at him for
the first time.

“Did you now?” he drawled. “And how did that
go?”

“Good. Fine,” Damien said quickly.

“What did you say?”

“I told her that I’m looking for hospice care for my

father.”

“And?”

“And it led to a date tonight,” he said.

“What kind of woman makes a date with a man
under such circumstances? You go there to talk
about your dying father and she’s dropping her
panties. That entire family is despicable.”

Damien didn’t bother to admit that he was the one
who had brought it up, and that he had implied that
the dinner would provide a way for them to discuss
his ailing father and Damien’s predicament. It
wouldn’t change his father’s mind about anything.

I guess it’s good for him to hold onto that anger.
It’s what keeps our eyes on the prize — revenge is
messy, after all.

“Have you found out any more about Vaughan
Industries?”

“I told you—I just made contact with her today.
But I’m not sure she’s cashing in on any of her
inheritance. She certainly doesn’t seem to be
playing the role of heiress.”

“Carter probably disinherited her then. But it
doesn’t matter – I thought the same of his son, but
now we know for a fact that Luke is running the

company. They’re obviously close and they have
the exact same moral fibre. She’s in on the
desecration Vaughan Industries creates. There’s no
doubt.”

“Her financials don’t indictate that she’s getting
anything more than the money she’s earning.”

Franklin snorted derisively.

“Maybe she’s spending it in other ways ...”
Franklin commented leeringly. “Just because it’s
not showing up in her bank account, doesn’t mean
it’s not in some off-shore account somewhere.
Don’t be fooled by what you see before you,
Damien. How many times do I have to tell you to
follow your gut and not your eyes?”

Damien ground his teeth together.

Every time I see him, it’s a lecture in my bad
business sense. It’s getting old.

“She probably sees you and thinks money signs ...
she’s probably already thinking of ways to get a
hold of your money!” Franklin continued,
grimacing. “Are you going to be able to do this?”

“Of course,” Damien snapped, offended by the
question. “This is what we’ve been working toward
for years. The Vaughans will finally get what they
deserve.”

“Everyone who comes into contact with these
people gets hurt—both literally and figuratively.
Luke was a goddamn MMA fighter before he
decided to drop the sham and show that he was still
close with his father. Lies! All of them!”

His father’s face contorted with anger. “Pretending
to turn his back on his father and the Vaughan name
– then admitting that he was the goddamn CEO.
Don’t forget!”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Damien insisted.

Franklin paused and studied Damien carefully.

“Your tone sounds funny. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

Franklin’s red-rimmed eyes became slits.

“Damien, don’t forget why this all started. If
you’ve lost sight of what happened in the past—”

“I haven’t! Stop putting words in my mouth. I’m
still very much on board.”

“If you can’t do this—”

“Are you trying to change my mind?” Damien
snapped. “Because that’s what it sounds like.”

“I’m just making sure you’re not going to bail in the

middle of this.”

“How many more ways do you want me to tell you
I won’t?” Damien retorted. “I came to you, didn’t
I?”

“I suppose you did but that was a long time ago.
People change.”

“I haven’t changed.”

“No, you haven’t, have you? You’re still very
protective of your sister.”

A heavy silence fell over the room and Damien
flopped onto the oxblood settee.

“Just watch out. She’s very pretty, Rachel
Vaughan,” Franklin finally said, breaking the
silence. “And I’m sure she knows how to use it to
her advantage.”

Damien’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead in
disbelief.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Damien
demanded, aghast. “That I’m going to fall in love
with Rachel Vaughan? Because she’s attractive?”

Franklin visibly shuddered at the idea.

“If you do, I don’t need to tell you how disowned
you will be. Besides, I’m more worried about her

pulling a fast one on you ... just be sure to keep
your…interests…protected. She’ll do whatever she
can to outwit you ... and I won’t be forking out any
of my fortune for any screaming little Vaughan
bastard she tries to trap you with.” He made no
attempt to disguise his hatred.

“Thanks, Dad—for the complete lack of faith in me
— it warms my heart!” Damien muttered with
sarcasm.

“I’m just trying to protect my own,” Franklin
growled. “You can’t fault me after what happened
with your sister.”

“Sure I can,” Damien retorted. “If you haven’t
figured out the difference between the two of us by
now, maybe you never will. I am not her. I don’t
think with my heart.”

I don’t shut off my brain when all the warning
signs are screaming at me.

Damien got to his feet and strode toward the door
as Rosalin reappeared, a silver tray in her hands.

“No! You no go! I made you sandwich!”

“Sorry, Rosa,” Damien sighed. “I have to go.”

He gave the housekeeper a peck on a wrinkled
cheek and she scowled.

“Don’t be mad!” he called over his shoulder. “I’m
following your advice.”

“What advice?” she demanded, her thick accent
following to his retreating back through the
corridor.

“I’m going out on a date.”

As he disappeared toward the front door, Damien
found himself overthinking the words he had
spoken to his father mere minutes before.

I’m nothing like my sister. I’d never give someone
that kind of power over me. And I will never need
someone so badly that I lose myself.

His thoughts drifted back to how Rachel and her
father and brother had torn his world apart when he
was just a kid. The memories of the chilling events
weren’t exactly his – they had been described for
him by his father and sister. The tragedy and the
pain, the taunting and the ridicule, all painted out
for him by the only family he had.

Their plan was brilliant, really. The old ‘eye for an
eye’ had never been so apt.

So why then, was it was a long time before he could
stop the word “hypocrite” from bouncing around in
his mind.

C H A P T E R 4

achel paced nervously outside the front
doors of Hollywell just after six p.m.,
wishing she hadn’t agreed to meet with

Damien Smythe.

She certainly wasn’t dressed for the occasion in a
simple pair of slim, form fitting black pants and soft
brown riding boots, topped by a loose off-the-
shoulder beige blouse.

I could have looked up his number online and
cancelled, she thought, running her hand through
her ebony strands nervously. As if she was going to
really call and cancel.

She’d spent the better part of the day considering
the somewhat odd meeting with him, like there was
something she was missing about the entire

encounter. Her gut was warning her that perhaps
something was amiss but the heat in her loins was
telling her that maybe she was going to get an
opportunity to assuage the need she’d ignored for
almost six months.

When was the last time I was caressed or kissed,
much less laid?

It was a daunting question but she shamefully
shoved it from her mind. This was business. She
wouldn’t sleep with the son of a potential client.

Potential is the operative word, isn’t it?

Gratefully, a black town car pulled to a stop before
her, forcing Rachel to stop the direction her
thoughts were heading.

Rich men are all bad news, she reminded herself.
There’s a reason you left that world behind.

The driver stepped out and nodded at her, a curt
smile on his face.

“Good evening, madam. I’m George.”

“Hey, George,” Rachel said with deliberate
casualness.

“I will be taking you to the restaurant to meet with
Mr. Smythe.”

Disappointment filled Rachel.

He really meant it when he said he’d send the car.
He’s not even here to meet me.

She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. After all, he
had been clear it was just a business meeting.

“Thanks.”

She shuffled forward as he opened the back door
for her and she slid inside, suddenly feeling terribly
embarrassed.

Keep your legs together and your head held high,
she told herself. She realized that was something
her father would say to her and it caused her to
shiver with disgust.

“Where is it we’re going?” she asked.

Not that I’m up to date with the five-star
establishments these days.

In fact, Rachel had never spent a great deal of time
knowing the New York high life, not when she had
always worked while she was in the city.

“Yeti’s. Do you know it?” George asked as he
steered the vehicle away from the curb, his eyes
meeting hers through the rear-view.

“No,” Rachel replied quickly. “I don’t know why I

even asked.”

She laughed shortly, realizing that her unease was
almost palpable.

Just stop talking and see where this goes, she
chided herself but by the time the car slid over the
Williamsburg Bridge, bringing them into the heart
of Manhattan, her palms were sweating.

It’s not too late to change your mind, she reasoned
but she didn’t open her mouth to instruct George to
take her home.

“This is it, ma’am,” George announced, stopping
before the valet in front of a non-descript black
building.

It looks new, Rachel mused irrelevantly as she
stepped out of the car. George waved the lurking
valet away and nodded toward the entrance.

“Mr. Smythe is expecting you.”

In a panic, she looked at the driver and helplessly at
her outfit.

“I’m really underdressed for this,” she muttered,
more to herself than him, but to her surprise,
George smiled warmly at her, the wrinkles in the
corner of his eyes creasing.

“You look lovely, Ms. Vaughan,” he assured her.

Oddly, the compliment gave her the modicum of
confidence she needed and with a deep sigh, she
ambled toward the door.

Inside, she was stunned to find the place empty.
Only a maître d’ stood at the front, apparently
waiting for her.

“Ah, good evening, Ms. Vaughan. Follow me,
please.”

With mounting confusion, Rachel made her way
into the eerily quiet restaurant, her heart beginning
to thud.

Is this a set-up? Am I about to be murdered or
something?

She knew the thought was ridiculous and when she
let go of her irrational fears, she saw that her
anxiety was really a shiver of excitement. Then her
eyes clashed with Damien Smythe’s.

The jolt of awareness burned through her, taking
her breath away. Instantly, moisture flooded her
core and her nipples tightened in anticipation.

What was it about this man, dammit!

After a moment where time seemed to stand still,
she shook herself mentally and dropped a
professional mask over her face. She saw by the

flare of awareness in his eyes though, that he had
caught her embarrassing moment.

Unlike her, he was freshly showered, his thick head
of hair brushed neatly back to show every line of
his perfect features, including the intense eyes
which fixed on her face with too much awareness.
He had also changed since she’d seen him. His
black jeans hugging the lower portion of his body,
snuggly. He wore a dress shirt and blazer, no doubt
due to the distinct chill in the air this evening.

“You made it,” he said, rising as she approached.

“Of course,” Rachel replied, slightly perplexed by
the greeting. She extended a hand for him to shake
and he took it. Gone was the standoffishness she’d
sensed in him earlier and he offered her a smile.

“Please, sit,” he instructed her and the maître d’
pulled the chair out for her to be seated.

“Where is everyone?” she wanted to know, looking
around again with some awe. “I know it’s still early
but it is Friday night.”

“I closed the restaurant for our meeting,” Damien
explained, causing her eyes to widen in shock.

“You what?”

He shrugged and grinned at her and Rachel was

having a hard time reconciling this man with the
same aloof stranger who had come to the hospice
that afternoon.

Maybe it was just the stress of being around so
much death that made him seem like a prick, she
reasoned, permitting herself to warm up to the
surroundings.

“I wanted to have a private conversation,” he
explained. “So I had the staff close the place so we
could talk.”

Rachel wasn’t sure if she was flattered or unnerved
by his confession.

“Do restaurants often close at your whim?” she
asked lightly, sitting back to study him with thinly-
veiled interest.

“Only the ones I own.”

Again, she was taken aback by the answer.

“I-I thought your business was technology,” she
said without thinking. Damien’s eyes lit up with
some amusement.

“Have you been reading up on me?” he asked
innocently and Rachel’s face flushed with
humiliation.

“No,” she lied but the denial was ridiculous to her

own ears.

“That’s all right,” Damien said softly, leaning across
the table to stare at her with intensity. “I read up on
you too.”

Defensiveness sparked through Rachel and she sat
back, her shoulders tense.

“Oh?” she asked with some anger. “And what did
you find?”

God, I really need to change my name if I’m still
being stalked by the rich boys. I imagine he’ll be
less smug when he finds out I have nothing to do
with my father’s company.

“I know you’re the youngest director that
Hollywell has ever had,” Damien replied, again
catching her off guard. “I know you graduated top
of your class at NYU.”

Her face flushed as she realized that his research
was strictly professional.

Am I always going to have a chip on my shoulder
about being Carter Vaughan’s daughter? The man
came to you about his dying father and you turned
it into something ugly. Shame on you, Rachel!

“Why

did

you

bother

looking

into

background?” she asked weakly, unable to meet his

penetrating gaze.

“I demand the best care for my father,” Damien
replied evenly. “And that means doing my due
diligence.”

She looked up and nodded, contrition flooding her
face.

“Of course,” she mumbled. “You should know that
all the staff is screened heavily. They are subject to
random drug tests and there are security cameras
everywhere.”

“Lucky security guard,” Damien mused.

“Pardon?”

“I imagine he has a rather charmed life watching
you all day long, Ms. Vaughan.”

Their eyes locked and Rachel felt her cheeks tinge
crimson.

“We’ve already established you can call me
Rachel,” she murmured. There was an undeniable
attraction between them, one which Rachel knew
she wasn’t imagining now.

“Rachel,” he agreed. “Shall I order some wine for
us?”

She nodded, her body tingling in anticipation.

C H A P T E R 5

fter initially finding out from Damien that
his father had been diagnosed with
prostate cancer, but that he had not

revealed that diagnosis to his children for quite
some time, Rachel began to get the impression that
his father was a very proud and stubborn man.
Unfortunately, that stubbornness would ultimately
cause his death. According to Damien, the lack of
early treatment had caused the cancer to follow its
natural course to other parts of his body and had
ultimately compromised his lymphatic system
metastasising to his bones.

He was not in for an easy time for his last days,
unfortunately, and Rachel’s heart went out to
Damien. He could not bring himself to ask for
emotional support from his sister and his father was

in no shape to help himself, let alone see his son
through this emotional rollercoaster.

Following a mouth-watering veal entree, Rachel
found her reservations about Damien dissipating
quickly. Damien confided that he needed a break
from the deep discussions about his father and
ordered them more wine. Their conversation turned
from life and death to life in general and as the
hours ticked innocuously by, Rachel found herself
feeling more and more comfortable, both from the
wine and the company.

“So how long have you owned this restaurant?” she
asked, as the hovering waiter poured the last of a
pinot noir bottle into her glass. Rachel knew the
vintage was stupidly expensive but she couldn’t
resist its delicate taste.

“About six months.”

“Branching out?” she asked, and Damien eyed her
with an enigmatic expression on his face.

“Achilles Technology is merely a name,” Damien
explained. “We don’t deal exclusively in the tech
field.”

“It’s an interesting name,” Rachel offered.
“Achilles.”

“It’s to remind me that everyone has a weakness.”

He smiled, and a slight shiver went through her.

“And what’s your weakness, Damien?” Rachel
asked somewhat brazenly, leaning back, but
meeting his dark eyes directly.

“I fear I have the same uncreative weakness as any
man.”

“And what would that be?” She asked, the light
warning in her mind slipping away with another sip
of wine.

“A beautiful, intelligent woman,” he said, reaching
unexpectedly for her hands. Rachel felt a thrill flow
through her body. Without tearing his eyes from her
face, Damien dismissed the waiter.

There was no doubt in Rachel’s mind what he
intended to do.

“I’m sure you meet lots of women in your line of
work,” Rachel said, trying to keep the note of
excitement from her voice as Damien rose to his
full height. Slowly, he sauntered around the table to
stand before her, towering over her with an
undeniable desire in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t compare you to anyone else,” he said
gruffly. “You’re different, aren’t you, Rachel?”

“I like to think so,” she breathed, as he grasped her

hand and pulled her to her feet.

The soft background music seemed to come more
into focus as they embraced and held each other’s
gaze while dancing softly to its rhythm.

After what seemed like an eternity, his strong gaze
piercing her soul, Rachel felt like he had connected
to her, somehow. It was almost surreal, the sense of
bonding that passed between them. Rachel shook
herself mentally.

Damn, I think I could really fall for this guy.

The speed of the emotions alarmed her slightly, and
she gently placed her hands on his shoulders and
pulled back.

“I should probably get going ... it’s late. I need to
cover for one of my staff early at the hospice
tomorrow morning.” Rachel was startled by how
husky her voice sounded to her own ears.

Damien pulled her back into his embrace, before
bending his head to fuse his lips with hers. A sigh
escaped her mouth, gaining him access to touch her
tongue with his. Like an electric shock to her
system, she gasped, allowing the kiss to deepen,
fully intoxicating her more than the sweet wine
had.

His hand caressed her back, moving slowly down to

cup her buttock and draw her closer to him,
revealing the full extent of his desire.

He pulled his mouth away from hers, yet kept her
close to his body.

“We’ll save dessert for our next ... meeting ....” He
calmly suggested, despite the raging evidence of his
arousal for her.

“I — of course ... our next meeting,” Rachel was
mortified to hear herself stumble over the words.
She cleared her throat before continuing, “Given
the advanced nature of your father’s illness, that
next encounter should happen fairly soon?”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, when does your shift end?”

“I should be home by one.” Tomorrow? Really?

She found it hard to believe he was going to call her
so soon. She struggled to not sound breathy, the
heady effect of that kiss still holding her in its grip.

“I’ll have George take you home,” Damien said,
pulling away to retrieve her coat. “He’ll be waiting
outside.”

She nodded, studying his too-attractive face. He
held out an arm for her to take and Rachel
accepted it as they wandered out of the building.

Outside, George had already pulled up the car and

waited by the backseat to let her in but he
discreetly kept his eyes averted outward as they
said goodnight to one another.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Rachel offered
awkwardly, looking down. “Your restaurant is truly
wonderful.”

“Thank you for coming to meet me, Rachel ... and
for hearing me out regarding my father.”

“Of course,...we’ll figure this out,” she said again,
touching his cheek gently, before turning toward
the town car. But before she could take another
step, Damien pulled her back into his arms and
pressed his mouth to hers.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised gruffly, as the
door closed behind her, leaving Rachel to watch
him with skeptical eyes.

“Did you have a good time, Ms. Vaughan?” George
asked, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Yes, thanks, George.”

I did, didn’t I?

She couldn’t deny that she’d had a great time
chatting with Damien. He had been charming and
witty, two qualities she hadn’t found with the rich
frat boys she’d known in her youth.

But boys grow up to be men, don’t they? Maybe I
was always too judgemental about the wealthy kids
I knew back then.

Rachel really didn’t have a gauge to know
anymore. The only wealthy people she dealt with
now were the ones dying in her care.

“Mr. Smythe is a good man,” George volunteered.

Rachel nodded at the driver. “He does seem that
way, doesn’t he?”

Why would someone like him want someone like
me? Was it only for the sake of his father, or was
there more at play here? Those two kisses and that
bulge in his jeans led her to believe that there was
definitely some attraction – or was that just
wishful thinking on her part?

She harshly pushed those thoughts away. Her
concern had to be for his father first, not her own
needs, vocal as they were at times. She swore that
she’d had to speak sternly with her girl parts a
dozen times this evening. It seemed that just
looking into his arresting eyes was enough to wake
up her hibernating libido.

Damn, she was in trouble…

“Y

C H A P T E R 6

ou’re paying me double time and a
half for this,” Chandra told him,
throwing open the door to the inner
office without knocking.

“You’re salaried,” he replied automatically. “But I
can put you back to working hourly if you want.”

“As if there’s much of a difference,” Chandra
chortled. “You still demand my life, basically.”

Damien didn’t respond, his mind elsewhere as he
continued to stare blankly at the computer screen
before him.

Chandra paused to study his face quietly.

“You’re distracted,” she commented, cocking her
head to the side. A second later, light filled her

face. “Oh! You got laid, didn’t you!”

Damien scowled.

Unfortunately, no, he thought, feeling his jaw
clench at his own frustration. And he had felt that
frustration all fucking night long – explaining his
mood this morning.

“Get Ms. Smythe on the line,” he said, more to
dismiss his secretary than because he wanted to
talk to his sister.

“It’s Saturday, doesn’t she have therapy in her new
group on Saturdays?”

Of course.

“You’re right,” he sighed. “I’ll call her later.”

“Seriously, why have you dragged me here on the
weekend?” Chandra wanted to know, her rosebud
mouth curling down into a sulky pout. “I have a life
too, you know?”

“Then I should fire you for breach of contract,”
Damien intoned. “I’m fairly sure that it reads that
you are forbidden from having a life while you
work for me.”

“It may as well,” she threw back at him. “All I do is
run around for you.”

Damien scowled at her.

“What’s more important to you,” he demanded.
“Your life…or me?” he pseudo-joked. “Look, if
you need to go, go.”

Chandra just stared at him intently. They had
worked together long enough, that although their
relationship was unconventional for a boss and
assistant, she was usually very good at reading him.

“Seriously,” he said, “I’m not in the mood to argue
with you. I’ll find someone else to help me.”

Chandra looked at him closely, perhaps realizing
that they weren’t bantering, as was their norm. She
didn’t hesitate to share her feelings with him and he
gave back as good as he got.

“Sorry, boss. I didn’t realize you were being
completely serious.”

Damien eyed her balefully.

“Yes, I’m serious. I need you to do some more
research for me into Vaughan Industries.”

“That shit again?” Chandra sighed. “Come on.”

Damien’s eyes flashed dangerously but Chandra
didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Do I pay you to question me?” Damien growled,

trying to force a note of intimidation into his voice
but Chandra didn’t seem to give a shit. He clearly
gave her entirely too much leeway in this company.

“You pay me to keep you functioning properly,”
she retorted. “And fixating on a decades-old
vendetta is hardly the way to run a business.”

“Chandra—”

“Jesus Christ, Damien, they were kids. You aren’t
even old enough to remember what happened.”

“I remember exactly what happened,” he shot
back. And what he didn’t remember, his sister and
father had filled in for him in the days after the
incident. “And I really don’t want to discuss this
with you. You had no business digging into this in
the first place.”

“Well, forgive me for not blindly following orders,
master,” Chandra snapped back sarcastically.

“Chandra, you’re really trying my patience. Get me
what I asked for. Especially focus on Rachel
Vaughan.”

Chandra’s mouth pursed, her grey eyes narrowing
suspiciously.

“What the hell does she have to do with anything?”
Chandra wanted to know. He lowered his eyes and

pretended to read the same screen he’d been
staring at for the hour since he’d arrived in the
office.

She’s not wrong. Rachel wasn’t the one who
destroyed my sister, and then tried to destroy my
father’s business when we were seeking justice.

But she was there! She laughed and taunted, just
like her father did when Col fell apart!

The doubts made his stomach churn, worse than
ever before. He’d had a much better time than he
expected to last night. He really hadn’t counted on
her being as down-to-earth and real as she had
been. As he’d woven his lies around his father’s
“cancer” he began to feel more and more guilt
ridden by it. She did exactly what her mandate
dictated she should do, understand his concerns,
empathize with how he “felt” about his father
“dying” and offer to support him and his family
through this challenging time.

And after that ... that kiss, her passion ... his cock,
Jesus! He could have had her right there in the
restaurant, had common sense not prevailed. HER
common sense, mostly.

“You didn’t answer me,” Chandra sighed again.
“What does Rachel Vaughan have to do with
anything?”

“You know what? Forget I asked,” Damien
snapped. “Go home. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Damien, what are you doing?” Chandra asked, her
tone changing slightly to reveal a note of worry. “Is
this your dad’s idea?”

Defensiveness fused down his spine and he glared
at Chandra furiously.

“I know you think you have all the answers but you
don’t,” he spat. “And my family affairs are exactly
that—mine. Stop nosing around where you don’t
belong.”

Chandra was unflappable and she stared at him,
deadpan.

“Damien, you started this company to show your
father that you didn’t need him. You built Achilles
through your own sweat and blood. Don’t let his
misguided ways drag you back down to his level
otherwise you might as well dissolve Achilles into
Smythe Corp and call it a day.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing!” Chandra
barked back. “You’re fixating on something that
happened twenty fucking years ago! I thought you
agreed to let this go.”

Damien ground his teeth, knowing that the words
she spoke were true—to a point.

So what if Dad suggested this again? It doesn’t
mean I’m getting sucked back into his clutches.
We’re doing this for justice. This is about family,
not business.

“Again, I don’t owe you an explanation. Get out if
you’re not going to help me.”

“I’m going,” Chandra agreed. “But not before you
tell me what you’ve done.”

“I haven’t done anything!” he lied, guilt showering
through him. “And whatever I do is none of your
concern.”

“Rachel Vaughan is younger than you,” Chandra
reminded him. “Maybe you don’t remember it like
you think you do. Maybe she doesn’t deserve to be
dragged into this vendetta that your father and
sister have brainwashed you about.”

“I do remember what happened!” Damien yelled,
slamming his fists against the desk. Chandra
jumped at the unexpected reaction. “I saw my
sister fall apart. I saw the ambulance. And her…
body. I know what he cost her and I know what she
did because of him.”

“You can’t possibly know the whole truth – you

were a kid yourself!” Chandra insisted. “If you
speak to—”

“I’m not doing this with you again, Chandra. Just
get out so I can think.”

She held his gaze steadfastly, making no move to
leave.

Damien ignored her, not willing to discuss it further.

Chandra released a huge sigh and turned away.

“For your sake, I hope you know what you’re
doing,” she muttered. There was no note of
confidence in her voice. “You’re so fucking much
better than your father. Please don’t forget that.”

She left the office and Damien could only stare
after her silently, his mind whirling. He was so torn
but the plan was already in action.

Without giving himself any more time to think, he
reached for his cell phone and dialled out, checking
the time – she should still be at Hollywell.

“Rachel Vaughan,” she answered softly. Her honey-
laced voice filled him with an unwanted warmth
and an image of her full lips breezed through his
mind.

“Hi,” he said. “It’s Damien.”

“Hey!” She didn’t even try to hide the happiness in
her voice. “I guess you made it home all right last
night.”

“Of course. And George assured me you did too.”

“He’s a good driver,” Rachel chuckled but he could
hear the nervousness.

“Listen…I know it’s short notice but are you free
tonight? There’s a Jazz Festival in Central Park on
the Summer Stage. Is that something you’d be
interested in?”

“That sounds lovely!” There was a husky note to
her voice and before he knew what was happening,
there was an uncomfortable bulge forming inside
his boxers.

“I’ll send George for you around six ... we can grab
a bite after?”

“Sure ... that would be great …” She trailed off.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Not really,” Rachel rushed out. “I don’t want to
ruin a moment between us, but…”

“You can tell me. What is it?”

“Well…your father. We will need to discuss plans
for his care at some point soon.”

Damien chewed on the insides of his cheeks.

“Yes, of course,” he sighed, trying to find a way to
put her off. “I guess I was just trying to sweep all
the unpleasantness under the rug. We can’t really
do anything over the weekend, how about we enjoy
the night and go over my options on Monday.”

“I don’t mean to be blunt, Damien, he’s in stage
four cancer… we’ll want him to be settled and
comfortable as soon as we possibly can.”

“Yes.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m sorry. I’ve upset you now,” she apologized.
Sometimes she was too pragmatic. It likely came
from having to help with this planning stage for so
many families.

“Not at all,” he replied. “We’ll go over the
legalities involved next week.”

“Of course. So…I had trouble sleeping last night
...” Rachel confided suddenly. “I’m not sure why
you have this effect on me,” she confessed softly
and his shaft instantly responded to the words.
Subconsciously, his wide palm rubbed against the
material of his black dress pants and the heat of his
crotch made him sigh.

No one said this had to be boring, he reasoned with
himself, trying to silence the guilt echoing through

his ears.

“Trust me, I know exactly what you mean,” he
growled back. “I’ll see you tonight. We can discuss
the effects we have on each other then.” He
couldn’t stop the smile from entering his voice.

“Can’t wait,” she signed off and Damien dropped
the phone back on the desk, his hand gripping his
hardened shaft, beneath the desk. Chandra stormed
back in then, so he casually moved his fist onto the
top of the desk, glad that he hadn’t been standing.

“And what do you hope to achieve by this?”
Chandra asked as though she hadn’t promised to
leave. “What good will it do if you infiltrate their
lives?”

Damien glowered.

“After everything you dug up on the issue, you
really need to ask me that?” he demanded, but
Chandra didn’t back down.

“I’m wondering if you even know what it is you
think you’re doing,” she shot back, as she slid a
folder onto his desk. Damien’s mouth became a
hard line and the arousal which had filled his body
evaporated as he remembered exactly what was at
stake.

“Well?” Chandra prompted.

“I do know!” he snapped. Chandra raised an
eyebrow with mock expectation.

“Sounds like you don’t,” she pushed him.

Damien snarled, “Luke Vaughan and his family
ruined my sister’s life. And now I’m going to return
the favor.”

C H A P T E R 7

he night was colder than she had
anticipated when she slipped into the

car but to Rachel’s surprise, Damien was sitting
inside waiting for her.

“You’re here!” she cried, surprised to see him. “I
thought I’d be meeting you at the park.”

He smiled, his eyes raking over her beautiful face
appreciatively.

“It’s not a proper date if I don’t pick you up at your
door — you look amazing,” he replied smoothly
and Rachel shivered with pleasure. “I thought we
could take in some of the festival then head to my
place for a bite to eat.”

His scent was taking over her senses, causing little
tingles of awareness to sizzle through her. Without

warning, he leaned in and captured her lips in a soft
kiss, his teeth gently nipping her lower lip teasingly.

“I haven’t been able to get you off my mind all
day,” he confessed, his breath hot against her face.

“I feel a bit like a fraud,” Rachel confessed quietly,
as George pulled the car out into traffic.

“Why?” Damien responded with a frown on his
face. His eyes seemed to pin her.

“You came to me for help with your dad. To be
completely honest, I feel as though I’m taking
advantage of the situation to spend time with you.
We just seemed to… connect last night.”

Rachel watched as a number of fleeting emotions
seemed to come over his face, before he smiled at
her, calling up that ever charming dimple.

“You are helping me with Dad, but like I said
earlier, there’s little to be done right now. I’ll have
to continue working on him. He’s as stubborn as a
mule and it’ll be a battle to get him into Hollywell.
As much as I hope we can have him in your care
before it’s too late, I have little doubt I’ll be
jumping through several of his hoops, before
everything is settled.”

He paused and Rachel got the impression he
wanted to say something else. His eyes glanced

sideways before he captured her gaze again and
continued, “we did connect last night, and there’s
no reason for us not to see exactly where that
connection will take us, right? It doesn’t make you
a fraud.”

Rachel

sat

back,

Damien,

and

contemplated his words as the streets rolled by.
George’s driving was flawless and before she knew
it, they were pulling up to the park. Music had
already filled the air, as they made their way to
Summer Stage.

Rachel’s taste in music was eclectic and she found
herself thoroughly enjoying the evening in
Damien’s company. After a few hours he suggested
they head over to his home for dinner, and despite
any misgivings she may have had about how
quickly things were moving, she agreed.

“ O

, jeez, you should be head chef in your own

restaurant! That meal was delicious.” Rachel raved
sincerely, noting that Damien seemed pleased by
her praise.

“I don’t know about that, but I do like to
experiment a bit with flavors.” He responded,
intensely capturing her gaze with his own.

“That is decadently obvious,” she replied, reaching
for her glass of wine and trying to lighten the mood.
“I’d need to buy a whole new wardrobe, if I had a
meal like that every day. That or spend way more
time working out than I do now.”

She watched in surprise as his gaze seemed to
intensify more still. “I can think of several ways
which can make you want to work out regularly.
Ways that are quite addictive, actually —
exhilarating, in fact.”

He stood up and stepped around the table, taking
the glass from her hand and setting it down, before
pulling her up from her chair. One hand slipped
behind her neck, beneath her hair, applying slight
pressure and pulling her closer to him. As she had
the night before, she relished in the evidence of his
response to her. She drew in her breath when she
felt his other hand reaching up to caress her breast
through the thin material of her dress. The fire in
his eyes was unmistakable, as his lips moved to
crush hers.

Is this happening? Right here in his kitchen?

Instead of alarming her, the notion only fueled the
heat already surging through her body and a gush of
warmth spread inside her silk panties.

She was glad she had taken care to don a matching

set. As Damien reached behind her to unzip her
dress, she realized that he wasn’t paying any
attention to her underwear at all.

Any reservations she may have had were quickly
replaced with intense heat when Damien leaned
down and tongued her nipple, right through the
fabric of her bra. His strong fingers tugged and
pulled at her nipples through the lacy material of
her bra, keeping them taut. As the lace intensified
the reaction in her sensitive nubs, she gasped, her
head dropping back and her back arching to thrust
her breasts forward, begging for more attention. His
mouth enveloped her sensitive bud, drawing on it
deeply until she thought her knees would collapse
beneath her.

The wetness of his tongue against the lace, as he
suckled her nipple deeply through it, sent shivers
through Rachel’s body. She allowed his hands to
hover over her dress, barely hanging on her hips
and then shifting it down with her panties
seamlessly until she was half-naked before him.

“Have you ever been taken in the kitchen before?”
he purred, standing, his mouth moving up the
prickled flesh of her cleavage to breathe into her
ear. Before she could respond, a finger dipped
inside her, causing Rachel to moan with pleasure.

“Hm? Have you?” he insisted, demanding an

answer.

“No,” she gasped out as his finger slipped in and
out of her already soaked core to tease the
throbbing nub of her clit.

“Good,” he said before biting on the lobe of her
ear. Rachel cried out as two of his fingers entered
her, Damien’s long thrusts making her gush against
him.

“So wet, so responsive, Rachel Vaughan,” he
sighed. “You make me want to fuck you raw.”

Each word he spoke made her hotter, and passion
spread like wildfire through her veins.

This is surreal, she thought but she didn’t stop him
from continuing to drive his long fingers inside her
until she felt the culmination of an orgasm brewing.

“Please,” she begged, wanting to find her release
with him inside of her. “Damien…I need you. I
need your cock – now.”

He growled in her ear, and the hard cock that
currently pressed against her body jerked at her
words. He raised his head and stared at her with
penetrating eyes, the fire burning in his gaze
scorching a trail straight to her core.

“Are you trying to rush me, princess?” he

whispered into her ear. “Maybe you should be
careful what you wish for,” he warned darkly in his
silky voice.

Smoothly, he spun her around, so she was facing
the back of the couch just steps away from the
dining table. Damien spread her legs wide, bending
Rachel at the hips to expose her fully.

He caressed her ass, before landing a crisp slap on
her cheek. Rachel’s cry of pleasure was muffled
against the couch cushion. She knew there would
be a handprint on her cheek later but somehow that
only aroused her more.

The hardness of his head brushed against the
soaked spot between her ass and longing pussy. The
weight of his body pinned her against the couch, a
hand reaching up to encircle her neck gently.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, but she didn’t
really need to answer. The desperate moan that
escaped her was answer enough – not to mention
that her ass had a mind of its own and was pushing
back against him, almost daring him to plunge deep.

He filled her roughly, fully, stealing the breath from
Rachel’s lungs and she cried out with satisfaction as
his girth stretched her completely.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned as the walls of her pussy

sucked around his shaft. She threw her head back,
needing to make contact with him. She felt like she
had been shot from a cannon, or like she was free-
falling. Never had passion been so strong, never
had she lost all sense of herself as her body
threatened to fly apart. The sensations were so
strong that she struggled to catch her breath, but
between his deep, merciless thrusts, and his hand
still circling her neck, it was nearly impossible.

She bucked backward, the sensation of losing
control driving her higher than she’d ever known.

When she was sure she might pass out, he changed
his angle slightly and his cock hit a special spot
inside. At the same time, his other hand came
around and grasped her nipple firmly, tugging
sensuously.

All thought was lost. Her orgasm hit her like a tidal
wave. It was like nothing she’d ever known, the
release of her juices flowing against his throbbing
cock.

“That’s it, princess,” Damien gasped. “Come for
me.”

A sheen of perspiration covered both of their
bodies. He drove her higher into a pleasure that
only built larger and more cataclysmic with every
thrust. A thrilling pleasure stole through her, a

pleasure that bordered on pain, bordered on
rapture.

His voice was strained, his own breaths escaping in
rasps. Groans of pleasure could be heard as he
continued to thrust his shaft into her.

His orgasm exploded in a wave of such intense
satisfaction that Damien pulled back, a shock wave
of awareness hitting him as his climax continued to
tear through him. A guttural noise reverberated
from his lips as his body refused to release hers.

Rachel quivered, her legs not willing to support
herself much longer. She backed her ass against
him, squeezing herself around his huge member as
if to squeeze every drop of pleasure she could from
him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, slowly withdrawing from her
with a reluctance that she could feel clearly, despite
the headiness of the wine and satisfaction coursing
through her veins.

It took a greater effort than she imagined to turn
around and face him, her knees still threatening to
buckle.

“I bet you’ve done this countless times before,” she
said

nonchalantly,

trying

lighten

the

awkwardness of the situation. But the thought of

just being another conquest for him filled her with
shame.

Damien chuckled.

“No. Not countless, and only with women I really
like,” he replied, running his thumb along her cheek
as he tried to catch her eye.

She shifted away from him, not willing to let him
see the emotions that were running through her.

He reached to pull his now-wrinkled pants over his
hips.

She knew she should follow suit and get dressed
too, but she couldn’t muster the energy to move
yet.

“You okay?” Damien asked, eyeing her closely.
“Oh, I see. You want to move this to my bed?”

He was teasing her but embarrassment flooded her,
even though she’d been fully on board with what
they’d done.

“Hey, look at me,” Damien ordered her softly. He
cupped her face and tilted her head up to meet his
piercing gaze. “I was just teasing you.”

“I know,” she agreed quickly. “I’m just not used to
doing things like this. And you’re so – not easy to
handle,” she struggled to explain. Then she glanced

up into his eyes, meeting his gaze for the first time.

She saw instantly when he realized what she wasn’t
saying. That she was really into him – and it
freaked her out.

She had vowed to herself a long time ago that she
would never let anyone mean more to her than she
herself did. To that end, she had realized that end
result was that she never actually let anyone into
her walls.

But she had never experienced a moment like that
before, a touching of souls almost. It had rocked
her – in more ways than one. And not all good. She
suddenly felt the desire to run, to protect her heart.

Dammit! She suddenly realized she was still naked.
She glanced over longingly at her dress, not sure if
her legs would hold her up all the way over there.
Taking pity on her, Damien reached over and
grabbed her dress, sliding if over her head and
brushing it down over her body. The soft material
brushed over her ultra sensitive nipples and caused
her to draw in her breath.

“What is it?” Damien asked, concern in his voice.
Her eyes trailed over him hotly as she took in every
muscle of his toned stomach. He caught the look
that flared in her eyes, and his cock twitched
instantly. He pulled her against him for another kiss.

She melted into him, her response causing his own
desire to spike again.

“What the fuck have you done to me?” he
demanded quietly, without malice. He swept her up
in his arms, carrying her to his bed, as he had
jokingly suggested moments before. The feel of his
arms cradling her that short distance was enough to
make Rachel ask herself ...

What the fuck are you doing to me, Damien
Smythe?

C H A P T E R 8

amien

opened

his

eyes

slowly,

awareness crashing over him as he
thought of the night before. Dinner ...

last night ... then that stunning dessert ... followed
by a midnight snack he would not soon forget. He
hadn’t been as turned on by a woman for a good
long time and he wasn’t thrilled that he’d allowed
himself to be turned on by this particular woman.

And it wasn’t just that he had been turned on.

His first orgasm with her had thundered through
him with a soul-wrenching realization. He wasn’t
feeling vengeful when he fucked her.

Quite the opposite.

He had felt…connected.

Deeply.

He was so fucked.

He glanced down at the gorgeous dark-haired vixen
in his bed. The sex had been part of his plan last
night, but her reaction, that was something he had
not planned on. Rachel Vaughan had been so
willing, so open and trusting of his touch. And she
had been so passionate — the magnetism between
them was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

That’s because you hate her. Angry sex is the best
kind, they say, he tried to reason.

The problem, of course, was that he was in no way
feeling anger towards her, as he took her on his
couch and again in his bed last night. And the fact
that his shaft was even now hardening had his head
throbbing even more as he realized he wanted to
drive into her heat again.

Alarm bells were going off ... his very real
attraction to her could not be a part of this plan! He
needed to come away from this scheme completely
unscathed and unaffected by her.

He silently slipped out of his bed, careful not
disturb the naked beauty. He needed a long shower
to clear his head and to wash away this effect she
was having on him.

He was relieved and somewhat alarmed when he
returned to his bedroom to find his bed empty.

Had she left in the time it took him to shower?

He heard noises coming from his kitchen and
followed the sound, securing the towel around his
waist.

“What are you doing?” he asked loudly, catching
Rachel off guard. She was dressed in the clothes
she had worn last night, and she’d been busy while
he was in the shower. The dining room had been
cleared of the dishes from the night before, the
dishwasher neatly filled and in the sink were the
cleaned pots he’d used to prepare their meal.

“I didn’t want to leave you to clean up from dinner
... I was just going to make some coffee, but
couldn’t find it.” She rambled nervously, trying to
look anywhere but at him.

Hmmm ... I seem to have the same effect on her as
she does on me. That should help me to get back to
the task at hand.

“I’ll get it,” Damien moved into the kitchen,
purposely crowding her space, smirking at how she
quickly moved to the other side of the island, again
looking anywhere but at him, as he retrieved the
coffee and some mugs.

“Oh ...” He heard her say. “I assume this is your
sister?”

Shit! He hadn’t thought of the pictures he had in
the living room of his open concept condo.

There was a picture of him and Collette at
Christmas a couple years ago.

“You’re right – she does look happy,” Rachel
observed, innocently. She seemed to scrutinize the
picture, a bit longer, and Damien wondered if she
recognized Collette? In the picture, his sister had a
slightly vacant look in her eyes, but a wide smile
nonetheless. It had been a good day for her.

He hoped to god that Rachel didn’t recognize her.
That would really mess up the plan!

The only thing in his favor was that Collette had
changed a great deal in the twenty years that had
passed since she had dated Rachel’s brother.

Her hair was cropped short now, and she had lost so
much weight. Not that she had ever been heavy, but
she had been a healthy, curvy girl in her teens.

“Yes,” he said curtly. “Her happiness was a long
time coming and very hard earned. I’d like to make
sure it stays that way.”

His tone elicited a look of surprise in Rachel, as

though she couldn’t understand his angry reaction
to her comment.

“I – of course you would. Actually, you remind me
of my brother ...” Rachel offered, conversationally.

“Really,” he sneered. “I sincerely doubt that.” He
shot back, without checking his tone.

Again, Rachel was taken aback by his tone, rushing
to try to explain.

“I only meant you are as protective of your sister as
my brother has been of me, all my life ...” She
paused, her eyes looking at him, as though now on
alert, before she continued. “It will no doubt be
difficult for both of you to deal with your father’s
illness, Damien. As much as you want to protect
her, you’ll need her support as much as she needs
yours in this. I will do my very best with Hollywell
Hospice to make your father’s transition as easy as
possible for all of you.”

Damien breathed a slight sigh of relief and tamped
down the rising feeling of guilt in his gut. Rachel
hadn’t seemed to recognize Collette and she
seemed to think his odd reaction to being compared
to her swine of a brother, had been related to his
father. Rachel didn’t seem to make any connections
and he had to make sure she didn’t have any
further chance to.

“I’ll have George take you home. I need to get to
work for a few hours today, despite it being
Sunday.” It was a blatant lie, but he didn’t want to
risk Rachel finding anything else out in his home,
that would point to his deception with her. He
needed her out.

Besides, he really needed to put some distance
between them before he fell…harder for her?

Damn!

Maybe he should just abort this plan of his. Every
time he felt firm in his resolve to get his revenge,
Rachel showed him a side of herself that he never
thought could exist in a Vaughan.

Sensitivity? Caring??

“Oh, of course ... I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
She said quickly, but he could tell he had hurt her
feelings.

Why the hell did that bother him?

Damien rang George and escorted Rachel down to
the street where the car waited.

“I can expect to hear from you, later this week,
then?” Rachel asked him, her voice thin and
uncertain.

“With regards to your father ...” She prompted him,

when he didn’t answer her.

“Yes, yes of course – I will definitely be in touch
with you.”

C H A P T E R 9

hat were you expecting ... morning
snuggles? You just screwed a guy

you met two days ago. Obviously this was a one-
night stand. No wonder he’s acting strangely.

She couldn’t bring herself to regret it, despite the
misgivings and alarm bells she was sensing this
morning. She could still feel the throb of his cock
inside of her. And she could not believe how hot
last night had been ... intense ... surreal ... amazing,
really.

Confusion flowed freely through Rachel – as good
as last night was, something about this morning was
disturbing her. He’d seemed cold, almost distant.

He said he had to go to work. You’re being
oversensitive.

She wondered why she cared so much.

You’re confusing intense sex with real feelings.

She needed to go home and get her head on right. It
really wasn’t like her to be so cynical but she
couldn’t shake the feeling that she and Damien had
parted this morning on a very uncomfortable note.

And it had seemed as though she had to remind him
about making arrangements for his father.

Once that was done and his father had passed on,
he’s going to forget I ever existed. And that’s fine.
I’m a big girl.

“Good morning, Ms. Vaughan,” George said, sliding
into the driver’s seat.

“Hello, George.”

As embarrassed as she should probably have felt
staying overnight with Damien, she found herself
going over the last few days.

She hated that she was spending so much time
considering the implications of his actions this
morning. So what if last night ended up being a
one-off. She was a big girl. She could handle it.

C H A P T E R 1 0

achel was surprised when she picked up
the ringing phone on Wednesday
afternoon and heard Damien’s voice on

the other end. She was just finishing the last of the
charting she had to do on her patients and was
ready to call it a day. Rachel had pretty much
convinced herself Damien had decided to go
elsewhere to place his father, given the intimate
turn their short time knowing each other had taken,
and then the fact that she hadn’t heard from him.

“Hi, Rachel ...”

“Damien? I wasn’t sure I’d be hearing from you,”
she commented professionally.

“I had some unexpected business come up out of
town and only returned home late last night.” He

explained. “I was hoping I could pick you up at
Hollywell and we could grab some Thai takeout?
We could take it back to your place so you
wouldn’t have to drive home later, if that works for
you. I need to get some plans in place for my
father. I’m concerned his health could be taking
another turn.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that ... Yes, of course we
can discuss your options moving forward.” Her
tone had softened on hearing news of his father’s
health. She was torn by the emotions that evoked in
her and by the fact that her body had reacted
instantaneously to the deep timbre of his voice.
Despite knowing that her place would likely not be
the best place for this discussion, she simply
couldn’t refuse him.

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

ACHEL

COULDN

’

P REVENT

the growl her stomach

made, when she entered Damien’s car an hour later.
He had stopped to get the food first and she
realized she hadn’t really eaten much in the last
few days and the savory smells were revealing her
hunger ... upon looking at Damien’s casual dress
and unruly curls, she was ravenous for a few things,

truth be told.

“Wow ... hungry?” He glanced at her and grinned,
after hearing her stomach rumbling loudly.

“Me too, actually.” He leaned forward and claimed
her lips, the rush of passion going straight from her
mouth to her core.

Food suddenly didn’t seem to be first on her list of
wants, after that interaction.

“We can warm this up later, right?” she asked
suggestively, trailing her hand down his chest and
gripping the rigid length of his cock that was trying
to surge straight out of his pants. “I’ve got a bottle
of wine.”

What the hell is wrong with you, Rachel?
Professional, remember?

And try to keep your legs closed this time!

“Later would be great,” he murmured, reaching
toward her for another deep kiss. Her good
intentions flew straight out the window as feelings
of heat slid down her spine.

His hand found the hem of her dress, snaking
upward to caress her inner thigh briefly, not
surprised to find her damp in anticipation.

“Is this all for me?” he asked, delving a finger

between the silk of her panties and the slick heat of
her crotch.

“You should stop,” she breathed haltingly, at least
making a valiant attempt to be professional. “At
least until we get to my place.”

There, I tried. Now I can enjoy, right?

Rachel pushed forward in her seat and sighed,
closing her eyes to embrace the sensation of his
nimble fingers sinking deep within her core.

“Damn,” she whispered. “You’re going right in for
the jugular.”

“Mm ... I suppose we should wait until we get to
your place.” He laughed, pulling away from her and
placing those dangerous hands on his steering
wheel, while throwing a wicked sideways grin her
way.

She groaned in mock agony. “You’re killing me,
you know that?”

ACHEL

DIDN

’

EVEN

WAIT

for the elevator doors to

close. She didn’t want the spell between them
broken and she pinned him ruthlessly against the
far wall, tongue jutting out to sample the lines of his

luscious lips.

By the time the elevator stopped on the sixth floor,
Rachel had managed to unbutton both his shirt and
pants, his belt unhooked as he almost chased her
down the hall.

Again, they paused in front of the door, Damien
spinning her around to pin her against her door.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on by
someone,” he growled. She could hear the sincerity
in his tone and as if he’d flipped a switch, she felt
the rush of juice between her legs.

“Let me unlock the door,” she laughed but he made
no move to release her, his fingers clinging to her
upper thigh as he slid between her legs, blocked by
the clinging silk of her long dress.

“You better hurry,” he breathed. “I wouldn’t want
to stab a hole in this pretty dress of yours.”

With a final kiss, she managed to fumble her keys
out of her purse and enter the front hallway. The
door slammed behind them and Damien was pulling
her dress up and over her head, and then pressing
her nearly naked frame up against his own.

One hand seized her perfectly sculpted ass, bringing
Rachel’s legs up against Damien’s waist. His index
finger dug beneath the lace of her panties to

explore her weeping cleft.

“You’re so wet for me,” he groaned, striding further
into the apartment with her draped over him as if
she weighed nothing more than a scarf.

His kisses rained over her body, each one hotter
than the last until he finally found his way into her
bedroom, dropping her unceremoniously onto the
bed, but not before unclasping her bra to release
her breasts.

He draped her legs over his shoulders, wanting to
seat himself as deeply as possible in her hot
crevice, when he was ready. His hands embraced
her swollen breasts, fingers teasing the soft skin of
her erect nipples and his tongue began to explore
the drenched crevice between her thighs.

Rachel bucked upward, her clit filling his mouth
and he latched on instantly, sucking her back in
long, deep laps. Her sweet sigh was music to his
ears and she began to writhe beneath him.

The vibrations of his moans brought her instantly to
the heights he wanted, and with a loud cry, she
released against his smooth face, spraying his chin
with her orgasm.

“Well,” he purred, looking up in surprise. “Missed
me much?” he asked with proud satisfaction. This

woman could seriously wrap him around her finger
if she knew how strongly she affected him.

“Wow,” she groaned, her body limp and blissful.
“Just. Wow.”

He dropped his head again, determined to make her
go another round. Rachel realized she’d been
wanting him nonstop since their first night together.

Fuck. This is too good.

His hands scooped under her ass to raise her body
higher against him. He quickly forced her body into
that place again, teetering on the edge of orgasm,
but this time, he wasn’t letting her go over.

“Please,” she cried. “I need you inside me again,
deep and rough ... Fuck me hard, Damien” she
begged him, her eyes locked onto him. “Now.”

He raised his body, positioning himself to enter her.
Suddenly, Rachel seemed to shake herself, her eyes
going wide with horror.

“Oh my god! Condom! We need a condom…” At
once the incredulity hit both of them.

Holy shit. He hadn’t used a condom the other night.
He never forgot to protect himself.

Never.

How had he missed that? Especially with Rachel??

It wasn’t like sleeping with her was part of a normal
relationship, for Christ’s sake.

It was a revenge plot.

She was a revenge plot.

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed. “I’ve got a condom,
right here.”

He reached down into his pants pocket and pulled
the condom out of his wallet. “But maybe we
should just stop…” he trailed off, not sure what the
right move was.

“Oh, my god, you can’t stop now,” Rachel
whispered, her voice desperate with need. “Look,
we can’t do anything about last time now, right? So
as long as we’re careful now…we can maybe…”
she looked at him hopefully, her gaze full of
unfulfilled desire.

He thought back to the state he had left her in
before her realization had overturned them both.
He’d been enjoying hearing her cries of need, and
the way he seemed to know just what her body
needed even before she did.

She was so responsive to him, and he’d taken her
right to the brink of orgasm twice, before backing

off and teasing her beautiful body for a while, and
then taking her back up again. When she had
begged him to fuck her, the desire to sink into her,
hard, had been stronger than anything he’d ever felt
before.

He leaned over her, pulling her sweet body back
beneath his. “Anything you need, baby, I’ve got
you.”

He trailed kisses over her exposed neck and
collarbone, slowly trailing down to her sensitive
breasts. She had the most beautiful breasts he’d
ever seen, and he couldn’t get enough of watching
her nipples pucker even when he just stared at
them.

Finally, he lowered his mouth and blew on one
strawberry tip, watching it ruche even more,
puckering tightly under his gaze. He licked the tip
of it, and smiled when Rachel groaned, her breast
rising even further to try to get his mouth to accept
the offering.

He finally took pity on her pretty pleas and sucked
hard on her nipple, using his teeth a bit, just to hear
her cry out again.

When she was as desperate as she had been before,
he slipped the condom on and positioned himself at
her core.

“Please, Damien…now.”

“Like this?” he asked, the head of his pulsating
shaft plunging into her with one solid thrust.

“Oh, my God ... yes ... more!” she cried. She hadn’t
realized how sensitive she still was from all the
“activity” they’d had lately, but it hurt so good as
she suctioned him in, the walls of her pussy
drawing him in deeply until he gasped at the
feeling.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, his jaw clenching
hard. “You are … so fucking ...”

He couldn’t finish his thought, a primal instinct in
him taking over. He thrust into her over and over,
each plunge filling her with more pleasure.

“I-I’m coming,” she whimpered, the moan
becoming a hoarse scream as she exploded into
pieces. Her nails dug into his naked buttocks,
clawing at him, drawing him closer until he, too,
was cursing and climaxing almost violently.

“Shit, Rachel. You’re killing me.”

He felt the wave travel down through his spine,
grab his sac in a vice of pleasure, and explode out
of him, with wave after wave of ecstasy crashing
through him.

“FUCK!” he growled. “Fuck me!”

Her ankles locked around him, not wanting to let
him separate as she savored the moment between
them.

His release seemed to go on forever and she
reveled in the feeling of his body spasming, her
own heartbeat synching to his. At last his forehead
came down and rested on hers lightly, the intense,
heated look in his eyes burning her up all over
again.

“Damn,” he finally managed to say, kissing the tip
of her nose playfully. “You have a golden pussy,
you know that?”

“I’d say it’s red now,” she teased breathlessly.

He propped himself up on a hand to peer at her
face. His expression was so tender it almost brought
tears to her eyes.

“I want to take you somewhere next week. Can
you get a couple days off from work?” he asked her
suddenly.

FEW

weeks passed in a blur of passion

and laughter.

They had spent every spare moment together.
Rachel was hesitant at first, both because of her
professional concerns, but also because she was
scared – scared of her quickly growing attachment
to the man, and of the depth of her feelings for him.

How could anyone become so important so fast? Is
this what love starts out as?

He had taken her to a cabin that sat on the banks of
a gurgling river just outside of the small town of
Flat’s Creek. He told her about having a horrible
fight with his father when he was eighteen and just
jumping into his car and driving away, almost
desperate to get as far from his family as he could.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever come back.

But then his car had broken down a few miles away
from the town. The walk into town had been
scorching, and when he heard the sound of a river
nearby, he left the paved road and made his way
into the woods to try to find some relief from his
thirst.

He’d stumbled upon the quaint cabin shortly after.
It had been empty, and he’d sat on the porch
overlooking the stream for hours. For some reason,
the cabin soothed him, brought peace when he was
feeling anything but calm.

As soon as he’d made enough money, he bought the

cabin.

No one else knew about it, and no one else had
ever been there with him. The poignancy of the
place drew Rachel too, there was some quality
about it that almost seemed healing. He told her
that when his father became unbearably difficult,
he’d go there, just to get grounded again.

They visited museums and sat for hours on the
window seat inside Rachel’s favorite library. There,
they’d laugh and talk about everything from the
classics, to Calvin & Hobbes comics.

Flashes of her promise to her brother on that long
ago day would come to her out of the blue every
now and then. She had become so used to
protecting her heart and her sense of independence,
that it was hard for her to let Damien inside. She
still hadn’t told him who her father was, but he
knew so much more about her than anyone else
she’d ever known since moving away from her
childhood home.

Damien was starting to take those protective walls
down – slowly at first, but faster with every day
that passed.

She just felt safe with him. She couldn’t really
explain it. He always put her needs first, and he
was so damned protective of her too.

It had been a long time, maybe forever, since she’d
felt so cherished.

“I

C H A P T E R 1 1

’m glad you called me today,”
Rachel confessed. “I wasn’t sure
you would after the other day.”

Rachel had felt like there had been something
bothering Damien for the last week or so. She
couldn’t put her finger on it, but it seemed like it
was more than the problems with his father, which,
according to him, were slowly getting resolved.

Every now and then he seemed distant, and almost
confused, and when he had left her at her place
after driving her home from work the other day, he
had declined her invitation to come in and instead,
had driven away with just a wave and a distracted
kiss.

“Why not?” He sounded confused. “I said I would,

didn’t I?”

“You did, but…”

INHALED

and smiled to stop herself from

embarrassing herself.

“Never mind. I’m rambling. Thanks for…well,
that,” she said, pink tinging her face as she smiled
at him. They had just finished having amazing sex –
again. It was crazy how he seemed able to read her
body and anticipate each and every one of her
needs.

“That?” he teased. “Could you be more specific,
please? I’m not sure exactly what you mean by
‘that’.”

She grinned, glad to have the old Damien returned
to her. The fun one, who wanted to be with her and
tried to make her laugh at her own shyness.

“You know, ‘that’ – the part that makes me scream
your name and beg for more. I won’t ever get tired
of ‘that’.” She chuckled.

His smile faded at her words and he slid out of her,
his eyes darting away from her face.

“I’m starving,” she said to dispel a sudden

awkwardness. “I’m going to grab us some wine and
cheese – I don’t really have much else here right
now. I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not sure I can move right now – even for
food,” he groaned, attempting to dispel the
discomfort of the moment too? “My father’s maid
had this talent where she always knew when to heat
dinner and have it on the table for us…it was like
magic,” he said wistfully.

“Didn’t it bother you having someone wait on you
hand and foot all the time?” she asked.

“Did it bother you?” he countered. Rachel paused,
turning to eye him.

“What do you mean?” she asked slowly, a spark of
apprehension shooting through her.

Does he know I’m Carter Vaughan’s daughter?

He had claimed to do his due diligence. Had that
taken him as far back as her paternity?

And if so, why didn’t he mention it before?

Damien didn’t meet her eyes as he reached for his
boxers.

“You grew up with money, didn’t you?” he asked
nonchalantly.

“What makes you say that?” Rachel demanded
defensively. “And even if I did, obviously I’m not
rich anymore.”

She couldn’t say why, but indignation was flowing
through her in a torrent. She didn’t understand his
tone.

“Hey, I’m not trying to upset you,” Damien said
softly. “Sorry if I did.”

“You know who my father was,” Rachel said flatly,
wishing that she wasn’t so disappointed.

“No, I don’t.”

She eyed him skeptically.

“No?” she repeated. “Then why did you ask if I
grew up with money?”

“You have the aura of someone who grew up in
boarding schools,” Damien sighed. “I can tell a rich
girl from a mile away.”

“I’m not a rich girl ... and I resent that you say you
sense an aura like that with me!” Rachel snapped
angrily. “Please stop saying that in such an insulting
way. I-I have nothing to do with my father’s
business. I made it on my own without his help.”

Well, almost on my own. Luke helped.

A sheen of disgust flashed in his eyes, for just a
moment, but then he blinked and it was gone – if it
had even been there at all. Rachel couldn’t
understand why he would be disgusted with her. It
wasn’t like he didn’t have money himself. Besides,
she really didn’t have money. Not anymore,
anyways.

“Bad blood between you and him?”

Rachel’s mouth pursed together and she lowered
her eyes.

“It’s a long story,” she mumbled. “He wasn’t a very
good father.”

“Rich dads are notoriously absentee,” Damien
chuckled. “My father included.”

“Is your father well-off? I thought your wealth was
self-realized?” Rachel asked curiously. Instantly,
Damien clammed up, maintaining the smile on his
face but it didn’t meet his eyes in the least.

“Are we really going to spend the night discussing
our fathers?” he asked firmly. “Because I can think
of much better things to do.”

He eyed her suggestively and Rachel found herself
unsure of what to think.

You’re the one who brought up the subject, she

thought.

“I hate to bring this up,” she said delicately. “But
we did plan this little tête-à-tête to discuss moving
forward with establishing care for your father
tonight.”

A scowl appeared on Damien’s face and he
snatched up his boxers.

“Business it is. Should we at least get dressed
before we start this?”

“You’re right,” she muttered. “Damn, now wasn’t
the best time to bring it up. Forget I said anything.
Just stay here and I’ll get the food ready and bring
the wine.”

He sighed, his shoulders lowering with resignation.
“Actually, you’re right. I’m sorry, it’s just…difficult
to go from feeling so…good,” he glanced at her
body with heat flaring again in his eyes, “to
thinking of Dad.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I really do understand.
I’ll be right back, okay?”

Her cell phone was ringing and it took Rachel a full
minute to find her handbag in the darkened front
hallway where she’d discarded it.

When she finally got to it, she paused in surprise.

Luke.

Idly, she held the phone in her hand, unsure of
whether to call him back or not. She thought about
Damien waiting for her in the bedroom and decided
against it but before she put the phone away, she
pulled open her browser on a whim.

Smythe, she typed into the search engine.

Instantly twelve million results came up, among
them, Damien. But that wasn’t who she was
looking for.

Scrolling, her thumb rested on the photo of a
distinguished looking man in his late sixties and an
older, but recognizable, spitting image of the semi
naked man not ten feet away in her bedroom.

Franklin Smythe. CEO and founder of Smythe
Corp.

Smythe Corp. Of course. This is Damien’s father?
The guy dying of stage four prostate cancer?

She refined her search, punching in “Franklin
Smythe, cancer” but nothing pertaining to the man
arose.

Going back, she hastily read through Franklin
Smythe’s Wikipedia page, searching for clues about
Damien’s father’s illness, but there was nothing to

be found.

Then she saw an article that made her blood run
cold. There was a picture in it, of a smiling
Franklin, cutting the ribbon on a new wing to the
Hospital for Psychological Wellness in Detroit. He
looked hale and hearty, his arm wrapped around a
buxom blonde. Rachel’s eyes searched for the date
on the article and her heart skipped a couple beats
when she saw that the picture had been taken two
weeks previously. That man did not have stage four
anything.

A now-familiar sense of alarm was knotting in her
gut and slowly, she put the phone away.

“You okay out there?” Damien called.

“Yeah. Just looking for a corkscrew,” she lied,
heading into the kitchen with the wine she had
promised him.

Maybe it was really good makeup. But Rachel had
seen enough death and illness in her time to
recognize someone who was that sick. They always
lost weight and their faces were gaunt and pale.
That man had looked completely healthy.

Or maybe that wasn’t Damien’s father.

But even with that explanation, she couldn’t
supress the unease growing inside her. Franklin

Smythe was from Detroit, just like she was.

Do the Smythes know my family?

She walked back into the bedroom, suddenly very
aware of her nakedness. She’d left the food in the
kitchen and as she set the pinot grigio on the night
stand, she instinctively reached for a blanket to
cover her nakedness.

“Are you getting all shy on me suddenly?” Damien
teased.

“Tell me about your father,” she asked, determined
to get to the bottom of these niggling doubts.
“Where is he now?”

Damien’s smile faded and he scowled slightly.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about our
fathers,” he growled. “Isn’t that what we agreed?”

“I want to know where you came from,” she said
simply, not letting it drop. “Is that a problem?”

Damien’s eyes were almost black as he stared at
her but he managed a smile.

“No,” he agreed. “I guess not. It’s just a touchy
subject given all he’s been through.”

“Where is he now? Is he working?”

“Oh, God no. He’s completely laid up. I feel bad
not being there with him.” Damien explained, his
words rushing out in a wave which made Rachel
wonder if he wasn’t making it up as he went along.

“Where are you from originally?”

The question seemed to take him aback.

“New York.”

“You were born in New York?”

Damien’s eyes became slits of annoyance.

“Why do I feel like I’m suddenly being
interrogated?” he demanded, sitting upright. “What
is this about?”

“You tell me,” Rachel said evenly. “Your father is
Franklin Smythe, isn’t he?”

A thousand emotions seemed to cross over
Damien’s face, and none of them were good.
Rachel could almost see the wheels turning in his
mind as he struggled to give her an answer.

“Have you been Googling me?” he demanded,
settling on defensiveness.

“Have you been playing me?” Rachel retorted
evenly, yanking the sheet even higher around her
form. “Why are you really here, Damien? Does this

have something to do with my father?”

“I’m here because I like you,” he growled.

“Is your father really dying?”

A calmness seemed to settle over him and he
pinned her with a cruel stare.

“You know what? It’s time for me to go,” he
sneered as he pulled on his pants. “And FYI, you
and your entire family can go to hell, Rachel. In
fact, I hope you and Luke meet up with your dear
old dad, who is surely burning there as we speak.”

Shock coursed through Rachel as she gaped at him.

“What??” she felt like she’d been physically
slapped.

That was uncalled for, she thought, blinking. To her
horror, tears welled behind her eyes. What the hell
are you crying about? You don’t even really know
this guy. He’s obviously confused and seriously
messed up.

And what hurt the most? He had obviously used
her, and used her caring nature against her.

God, he made me feel for him!

“What are you really doing here, Damien?” she
hissed, steeling herself from his scathing glare. “I

have nothing to do with the Vaughan company.
You’ve wasted your time.”

As her heart continued to crack, and her
embarrassment at how easily he had played her
flamed through her, that long ago lesson, not to let a
man deep inside her walls, reared its ugly head.

The words hurt to say but now his intentions were
becoming clearer.

“You should have slept with my brother if you
wanted an in with Vaughan Industries,” she
continued.

A cruel smile formed on Damien’s lips and he
sneered at her as he buttoned his shirt.

“I wouldn’t touch your brother with a ten-foot
pole,” he growled. “Who knows where his dick’s
been? After all, aren’t you all whores?”

The pain stabbed through her, tearing her walls
down and leaving her wide open to the hate
spewing from him.

“Get out,” Rachel whispered brokenly. “I’m sorry
to ruin your evil scheme, but I have nothing to do
with Vaughan Industries, or my brother anymore.”
That last part wasn’t quite true, but she didn’t want
this asshole to think he’d hurt Luke by breaking her
heart.

“Pity,” Damien leered, his gaze sliding over her
derisively. “I was looking forward to kicking you to
the curb the same way your brother did my sister.”

Rachel stared at him uncomprehendingly. Tears
now tumbling from her eyes.

“What the hell are you going on about?” she
demanded. “Who’s your sister?”

Damien smirked.

“Collette Smythe,” he spat at her.

Then suddenly, the name Collette did register with
Rachel.

“Collette!” she said, the memory of a hysterical
young, blonde girl popping into her head. “You’re
Collette’s brother?”

“Surprise!” he jeered.

“Are you crazy?” Rachel breathed, her confusion
making reality almost swim in front of her. “You’re
revenge fucking me because your teenaged sister
and my teenaged brother broke up?”

She couldn’t begin to make sense of his logic
except to conclude he was, in fact, unstable.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Damien hissed.
“What your brother did…”

Rachel gaped at him.

“What? What did Luke do, but be a teenager?” she
snapped back, suddenly feeling very naked in spite
of the sheet wrapped around her.

“She was pregnant,” Damien growled. “Your
fucking “protective” brother got my sister pregnant
and then kicked her to the curb. She had a botched
abortion and couldn’t even have children after that.
She tried to kill herself! Your goddamn family
ruined my family for more than fifteen fucking
years!”

He towered over her suddenly, hate spewing from
his gaze and lasering into her, cutting her heart into
tiny pieces. “And don’t try to pretend you didn’t
know about it all. She told me how you laughed at
her when she went to tell your brother about the
baby. How you called her a slut.

“Fuck!” he spat. “A kid your age shouldn’t have
even known a word like that!”

“No, you’re lying…” Rachel breathed. “Or she’s
lying – that never happened!” Shock suffocated
Rachel and she shook her head.

“My sister fought tooth and nail to get herself back
to the point where she found happiness again. But
she’ll never be the same. Never! She had so many

issues to deal with after the suicide attempt, added
to her depression. We’ve had to fight tooth and nail
just to get her stable and out of the hospitals she
was stuck in for years.”

“Luke didn’t know about a baby,” she whispered
desperately. “He would never have turned his back
on her if he had.”

“He knew, goddammit. Stop fucking lying for him!”
Damien spat, whirling to leave. “Never mind. I’m
not surprised you’re protecting him. Nice fucking
you, Rachel — you really are a horny bitch, aren’t
you? I thought you’d be a much tougher mark.” He
threw the hateful comment out at her before
disappearing out of her bedroom door.

A moment later, she heard the smash of the door
slammed hard enough to shake the apartment,
leaving her alone in the darkness to ponder what
the hell had just happened.

Instantly, she conjured the memory of the high-
strung blond girl, wailing in the foyer as she begged
Luke to take her back. Had there been any mention
of a baby?

Luke would never have abandoned Collette. He is
too protective to do something like that.

But if Collette had been pregnant, surely she would

have told Luke, if only to keep him.

Maybe I don’t know my brother as well as I
thought, Rachel thought miserably, sinking onto the
bed. She reached for the bottle of wine ignoring the
glass, downing a long sip as if to drown her
sorrows. All she wanted to do was curl up into a
ball and forget this humiliating experience had ever
happened.

Just another reason I’m glad I’m far away from all
things Vaughan, she thought grimly, knowing that
she would never, ever tell her brother what had just
happened. Whether or not Luke was guilty of the
charges Damien accused him of, her brother would
never let him get away with what he’d just done.

“Y

C H A P T E R 1 2

ou did what?” Franklin choked, his
eyes bugging out of his head.

“She figured it out already,” Damien

sighed, settling back onto the sofa. “She was
smarter than I gave her credit for.”

“You barely got started with her!” Franklin howled.
“You were going to make her fall in love with you,
remember? That was the plan!”

“I know what the plan was, Dad, but it’s done now.
She knows who I am.”

“For fuck’s sake, Damien. I asked you to do one
thing!” Franklin’s face was red with anger and
Damien wondered why his father was taking it so
personally.

“She liked me well enough until I told her what
happened.”

Franklin’s eyes narrowed into slits so small, the
brown of his eyes was no longer apparent.

“You told her the truth?” he echoed. Damien
instantly realized his mistake.

“Dad, it wasn’t going to work anyway – She was
pushing for legal documents, in order to bring you
into Hollywell. She plays by the rules.” he said.
“Besides, honestly, it’s been twenty years since
those two were together. Collette is better now—”

“That doesn’t take back all the damage that the
Vaughan family has caused us!” Franklin howled,
banging his fist on the coffee table.

“Well, it’s done now,” Damien sighed. “I’m sorry
but it is.”

He couldn’t deny that those words brought a sense
of relief to him.

A month. I couldn’t even keep it up for one month.
Things got too real, too fast, with her.

Perhaps it was the echo of Chandra’s words
echoing through his mind or the notion that maybe
he was fighting a battle that had nothing to do with
him.

No. It’s not either of those things. It’s the fact that I
was developing real feelings for Rachel. She had
been nothing but genuine with him – he was sure of
that, despite how he had left things with her two
nights before.

The memory of her indignation, the pride behind
her making it on her own—all of it had served to
show Damien that she was nothing at all like her
father or brother.

He’d seen the shock and yes, the hurt in her eyes,
as he threw his frustration and his anger at her
full force. As ironic as it seemed, their plan
probably worked even better than they’d hoped
for. She had looked truly lost by his betrayal, not
that she’d admit it to him or to anyone. She had
too much pride for that.

Even as he’d left her apartment two nights earlier,
it had taken every fiber of his being not to go back
and comfort the hurt showing in her eyes.

“No,” Franklin growled. “No, it’s not done. You
need to go back and win her over again.”

“Dad, that’s not happening,” Damien snapped.
“She despises me now — our plan worked well in
that regard. There’s no way she’s going to take me
back.”

The words sank heavily into his gut and Damien
realized that not seeing Rachel again was going to
affect him a lot more than he was willing to admit
aloud but what else could he do? He should have
paid more attention when he first met her. He
remembered being worried that he was too
attracted. Dammit! He wasn’t supposed to get hurt
in this!

“You are a disappointment to me and your sister!”
Franklin hissed. “You should be ashamed of
yourself.”

“Dad, if Collette knew what we were doing—”

“You would upset your sister all over again? Did
you forget how fragile she was? How could you
possibly suggest bringing her into this?”

“I’m just saying that Collette finally made peace
with her demons. Maybe we should too.”

“You’re a terrible brother and son. Get out of my
sight.” Franklin glowered at Damien who rose
stiffly. That was it. He was done.

The years of being berated and mistreated were
behind him. His spine stiffened and he glared back
at Franklin.

“I’m sorry I let you drag me into this in the first
place,” he muttered.

“You won’t be saying that when you’re disowned,
will you?” Franklin sneered and Damien waved his
hand dismissively.

“Do what you have to do, Dad. You’ve lost Collette
and I’ll not be walking through these doors anytime
soon, after this. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a
billionaire in my own right. Your company actually
makes less than mine according to last quarter’s
statements. So do me a favor and save your rhetoric
for those MAGA-hat wearing interns who flock to
your side, all right? Disinherit, disown or do
whatever the hell you want, but leave me the fuck
alone.”

Franklin peered at him with rheumy eyes, his face
registering understanding.

“Oh, my Lord!” he cried. “I can’t believe I didn’t
see it before! You’re in love with her!”

“You’re crazy.”

“You’re in love with that Vaughan slut! That’s why
you’re so upset.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Damien muttered,
storming toward the hallway, before he did
something else he’d regret.

“That’s good! That can work for us!” Franklin
yelled after him. “Hold onto that love and—”

Damien strode out of range purposely and made his
way to the front of the house where Rosalin was
dusting.

“You leave already?” The maid demanded. “No!
You never stay!”

“You should come work for me, Rosa,” Damien
sighed. “Instead of for that kook.”

“That no nice way to speak about your father,”
Rosalin sighed, shaking her head reprovingly.
“Even if it true.”

Damien grinned for what felt like the first time
since leaving Rachel’s apartment.

“You good boy. You stay,” Rosalin pleaded. “Your
father, he has no one.”

“And I am sorry for that, Rosa ... That’s his fault,
not mine,” Damien said firmly. But he smiled gently
at her to take the sting from his words.

“You have to come to Manhattan and stay for a
weekend, all right?”

“Okay,” she agreed without conviction.

“See you, Rosa,” he said, giving her a kiss on the
cheek before disappearing out the door toward his
car. He had driven himself that day, not wanting to
see George’s judging eyes in the rear-view.

Everyone knew better before I started with this shit
—George, Chandra, probably even Rosa. But did I
listen? No.

It was too late for regrets now. What was done was
done. As he had said to his father, Damien knew
that Rachel would not forgive him for all he’d said.
As infuriated as he’d been just now, by his father
referring to her as a slut, the words he threw at her
that night had been even more hurtful, because she
had come to trust him and he betrayed that trust.

He knew that there would be no going back from
that.

As he pulled out of the wrought iron gates, he saw
his father appear on the front steps, his face twisted
in fury and Damien found himself questioning why
this was so important to Franklin.

It’s like Chandra said — it’s been twenty years.
What hadn’t his father told him about that time?

He wrenched his gaze toward the road and
accessed his blue tooth.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Oh, look who it is! Mr. Too-Busy-For-His-Big-
Sister.”

“I’m not too busy for you,” he sighed. “How’s it
going?”

“Oh, you know, just trying to remember where I put
my will to live some days. You?”

Damien shuddered slightly. He knew she was
making cracks to try to be funny, but he didn’t want
to hear them, not when her turbulent life had
affected everyone’s so dramatically.

“What’s wrong, Damien?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to see how you were
doing.”

“Don’t lie to me. I can tell when something’s up.
What’s going on?”

“I just came from Dad’s,” he confessed.

“Ah. Want to come over?”

“Nah. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“What’s the old bastard going on about now?”

Damien gritted his teeth, tempted to tell her the
entire sordid story but he managed to contain
himself.

“It’s hard to say. Can we have him committed?”
Damien half-joked. He remembered what Rachel

had said about fighting for power of attorney and
he was beginning to wonder if maybe Franklin
wasn’t someone who warranted an interception of
legal capacity.

“That’s why I walked away a long time ago, my
dear brother,” Collette chuckled. “And trust me
when I say, I felt like an entirely new woman,
because of that.”

“Yeah. I need to follow your advice.”

“You were doing so well,” his sister continued.
“Why did you go back?”

Because it’s not as easy for me as it is for you to
give up on someone I care about, he wanted to say,
but held his tongue.

“It’s a long story. But I think I’m good now.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure. I just wanted to hear your voice and
make sure you were okay too.”

“Damien, I’ve finally got my life back. I do what I
want – most of the time, anyways. And I feel like a
whole new person. And I’ve got my dog, who…
well, I could do without the stinking mutt but you
know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, a smile curving his lips. “I do.”

“You seeing anyone or are you still married to your
desk?”

Again, his mind wandered back to Rachel.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” he muttered.

“Uh oh. You sound like you just got dumped.”

“It’s complicated.”

“You should hire sexy interns. I have to say, that
was one thing Dad always did right. Kept plenty of
pretty faces around.”

“I could do without the sexual harassment
lawsuits,” Damien replied dryly. “But thanks for
the tip.”

Suddenly,

the

sound

dog

barking

enthusiastically erupted inside the car and Collette
released a grunt of annoyance.

“I have to go, Brother dear. Icarus sees a potential
playmate – or food, I can never tell which. You
come and have dinner soon, okay?”

“Sure. As long as you’re making lasagna,” he
joked.

“Punk. Careful or I’ll take make you lasagna every
Christmas for five years.”

“You wouldn’t,” Damien warned, the memory of
the house almost burning down last year when
Collette got “distracted” while cooking still fresh
on his mind.

“Love you, Damien.”

“I love you too, Col.”

He disconnected the call and exhaled in a deep sigh
of resignation.

I bet Collette hasn’t thought about Luke Vaughan
in years. The only ones with him on their minds
were me and Dad.

The realization made Damien feel both foolish and
sick to his stomach. He’d fallen victim to his
father’s tales yet again.

You knew better. You knew that this had nothing to
do with Collette and everything to do with Dad. He
was trying to accomplish something – you just
don’t know what. And you enabled him just like you
always do.

And in the process, he’d ruined his chance with
someone whom he’d never had a stronger
connection in his life.

It’s for the best, a little voice in his head insisted.
How do I know that Rachel Vaughan isn’t the

monster I went into this plan thinking she was?

Yeah, you go ahead and tell yourself that, asshole,
his heart sneered at him.

C H A P T E R 1 3

uke blinked two or three times as if his
mind couldn’t quite register what he was
seeing before him. His dark blue eyes

seemed the color of midnight while he processed
his sister’s sudden arrival.

“What are you doing here, Rach?” he finally asked
when he found the words. Rachel smirked slightly
but there was no mirth in her expression
whatsoever.

“Nice to see you too, big bro,” she chirped,
sauntering further into his office and settling down
in a chair before him. “How’s Mer?”

Luke gaped at her, shaking his head, his face
paling, reddening and then waning again.

“What the fuck?” he demanded, finally mustering

the anger she had been expecting. “Seriously,
Rachel, what the actual fuck?”

“You kind of look like Dad right now,” she offered,
knowing that her words weren’t helping the
situation in the least.

He sprung up from his chair and padded over to her
as though she was both prey and predator, keeping
his distance slightly while he studied her from head
to toe.

“Is this a joke?” he asked, a glimmer of hope in his
eye. “This is a joke. Ha, ha. Hilarious — get rid of
that pillow.”

He tried to laugh it off, but it was impossible
because deep down, he knew he was staring at his
very pregnant sister and she hadn’t flown to Detroit
to mock him.

“It’s not a joke,” she confirmed, settling back
against the chair with more ease than she felt. “I’m
well and truly knocked up.”

“Who’s the father? Are you married? How the fuck
did this happen?” Luke sputtered, his words
tripping over each other and she stared at him
impassively.

“Now you sound like Dad,” she remarked, shaking
her head. “Really? Those are the questions you fire

at me? How about, ‘How are you feeling? Do you
need anything?’”

Luke scoffed, his face twisting into a scowl of
disbelief.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m not saying the right thing
right now,” he barked. “My sister, whom I have
spoken with several times over the past what? —
Six months, I’m guessing? —has surely known that
she’s been pregnant, but failed to mention that
she’s growing another human being in her womb.
Fuck, Rachel, I didn’t even know you were seeing
anyone!”

“I’m not,” Rachel said flatly. “Which is why I’m
here.”

He looked at her, a cross between compassion and
fury etching his face.

“Does the father even know about this? Who is this
bastard?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know,” Rachel laughed,
again humorlessly. She had spent the past half year
thinking about exactly how this had happened and
how stupid she’d been.

The gods couldn’t just let me forget I had been
humiliated in some botched revenge plan and go
about my life, could they? No, I am perpetually

dragged back into the hell that is my family ties.

Guilt always followed her thoughts. Until Damien
had appeared in her life, Rachel had never really
considered Luke anything other than her protector,
her big brother who was out to save her from the
dangers of life.

But now she didn’t know what to think. If what
Damien had said was true, she didn’t really know
her big brother, did she?

The combination of hormones and confusion had
only created doubt about her brother for the first
time in her life, and returning to Detroit had been
the desperate act of a woman who had no other
options — as much as she wished she could, she
simply couldn’t bring herself to reach out to
Damien, herself.

At first, Rachel had decided that she was simply
going to raise her child alone. Her intention had
been to not tell anyone about the baby until he was
born, but the pregnancy had proved harder on her
than she had expected.

She couldn’t do as much as she had been able to
before, and her obstetrician had diagnosed her with
hyperemesis gravidarum, which basically translated
into morning sickness to the nth degree. She had
already been hospitalized twice for dehydration,

and her emotionally and physically draining job at
the hospice wasn’t helping, according to her doctor.
She had been forced to choose between her job and
her baby’s health, and of course, there was no
doubt which way she would choose.

Rachel was very aware that once she held her baby
in her arms, she would never be parted from him or
her. Already, she enjoyed a little thrill every time
she felt her little baby kick or roll over. She hadn’t
been prepared to be a mother, that was for sure, but
it didn’t matter. Nothing would stop her from giving
her child everything.

Everything.

You always wanted to be a mother, she reminded
herself. You wanted to give a child what you never
had yourself—stability and unconditional love.

She just never imagined she’d be doing it alone.

But as she entered her third trimester, she knew
that she couldn’t fulfill the plan which had sounded
so good in her head at the beginning.

She was going to need help.

The question then became did she tell the baby’s
vindictive father, who might take his misplaced
anger out on the baby?

Hard no! If only she could have trusted the man he
had pretended to be. But as much as his betrayal
had hurt, her never ending well of empathy could
almost understand why he had done what he had.

Her empathy didn’t extend far enough to trust him
again, though. He doesn’t need to know.

Unbearably, Rachel had thought about Damien
more often than she should have over the past six
months. Too often she had reached for the phone,
but then forced herself not to call him, reminding
herself over and over of the truly nasty words he
had hurled at her the last time they were together.

What kind of masochist are you? He used you. He
would have used you longer if you hadn’t figured it
out and you miss him? And if you did let him back
in your life ... how do you know he wouldn’t kick
you to the curb, as he’d promised to do and take
from you the one tiny life who mattered most to
you?

But to be safe, Rachel knew she had to get out of
New York before she did something she regretted—
like showing up on his doorstep.

Have some damned dignity and think of your baby!
had become her mantra, but as she sat staring at
Luke’s shocked face, she realized that the dignity
part was out the window.

She’d worked so hard to make it on her own, to be
someone she could be proud of without the help of
her father’s money and look where she was.
Pregnant, alone and about to ask Luke for help—
using the inheritance he’d been left by Carter.

“Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?”
Luke pleaded, trying to keep the disappointment
off his face.

Damn, he really is starting to remind me of Dad,
she thought, the notion causing a twist in her gut.
She knew her brother really was nothing like the
abusive, controlling man who had been Carter
Vaughan, but his tone at that moment, and the
disappointment she thought she saw etched on his
face, cut her deeply.

“I’m not judging you, Rachel,” Luke growled,
mistaking her silence for defiance. “You’re a grown
ass woman, after all. I’m just trying to understand
how this happened.”

She grinned at him, just slightly, not able to pass
that one up.

“Well, when a man and a woman love each
other…”

“Don’t be a smart ass,” Luke growled, the corner
of his lip lifting in an almost-smile. But then he

returned to serious. “Did something happen to you?
Were you…?”

Rachel just snorted.

“As you just said, Luke, I’m a grown ass woman. It
may come as a shock to you that I am not a virgin.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’ve
always been so responsible. I just can’t imagine
how this happened, unless…oh for Christ’s sake,
Rachel, are you enjoying watching me sweat? Just
spill it, already!”

Rachel sighed, losing the bemused expression on
her face. It was true—she had no reason to make
her brother sweat.

Even if this may be his fault.

Protectively, she splayed her hands over her
swollen belly, relishing in the comfort of the
movements beneath palm, as her little man made
his presence known.

“I’m pregnant,” she offered and Luke snorted.

“We’re past that,” he grunted. “How far along are
you?”

“Twenty-five weeks.”

“Jesus. Is everything okay with you? With the

baby?”

“Yes,” Rachel replied, exhaling as she finally
recognized the brother she’d always known asking
the right questions. “We’re fine.”

Physically.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Luke demanded,
finally making his way back to his chair as if he
suddenly realized that his huge frame might be
imposing as he towered over her.

“I hoped I could do it on my own, at least until he
was delivered. But work…” She inhaled. “Work is
too much. Everyone is dying around me and it’s not
a good place to be pregnant. I’ve already had to be
hospitalized a couple…”

“What the hell?! Are you kidding me? And you
didn’t call?” Luke roared. “What were you
thinking, Rachel? For Chist’s sake – I love you.
Why wouldn’t you come to me?”

Now she saw the hurt beneath his anger. Suddenly
the guilt and the pressure were overwhelming. “I’m
sorry…” she said quietly. “I just wanted…to make
it. On my own. You wouldn’t understand.” She
tried to raise gracefully from the chair, knowing she
was going to break down at any moment, but not
wanting to do it in front of her brother.

The trip had been exhausting, and she simply
couldn’t explain how important it had been to her
to not need their father’s money – ever.

“Rachel, look, I’m so sorry,” he said much more
softly. “And I do understand. More than anyone
else ever could. I left too, remember?”

Why had she not remembered that essentially, Luke
had done the same thing she had. Left their cold
and abusive father, and made a fulfilling life for
himself – without any help from Carter or Vaughan
Industries.

“What can I do for you, Rach? Money? A place to
stay? Do you want to move in with us? You know
you’re more than welcome – and the rugrat too, of
course.”

The questions made her feel nauseous, but warm at
the same time.

So much for being a grown ass woman. But I
should have known I could lean on Luke.

“Maybe both until the baby is born,” she
confessed. “I’m not moving in with you though,”
she said quickly. “I just need to be able to support
myself until I can go back to work after the little
hellion is born. Or as soon as he stops catapulting
all foods and liquids right out of me…” she joked

mirthlessly.

“Rachel, tell me what you need me to do,” Luke
insisted. “You know I always have your back.”

Her face softened and she nodded.

“I know.”

They looked at one another awkwardly and Luke
reached for the phone.

“How did you get here? Did you rent a car?”

“No, I flew and took an Uber from the airport.”

“I’ll call Mer and let her know you’re staying with
us for a couple days,” he said, but Rachel shook her
head.

“Not yet,” she instructed him and he slowly put the
phone back. “I need you to do something for me,
first.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Anything,” he agreed. “Name it.”

“I…” she took a deep breath. “I need you to
inform the father.”

Luke stared at her blankly.

“Why can’t you do it?” he demanded and Rachel

grimaced.

“I don’t want to see him.”

“Why not? Did he hurt you? I swear to God,
Rachel, if he put a hand on you—”

“It’s more complicated than that,” she muttered.
“But no, he didn’t touch me.”

“Rachel, I’m trying really hard to react like a
normal human being but you’re making it really
difficult when you’re talking me in circles. Please,
just spit it out.”

Rachel knew she had to say it, painful as it might
be.

“The father is Damien Smythe,” she said simply,
waiting for the name to resonate with Luke. To her
absolute shock, not a glimmer of recognition
touched his face.

“Fine. He’s from New York?”

Rachel continued to gape at her brother who
returned her gaze expectantly.

“Well?”

“The name doesn’t mean anything to you?” she
asked and Luke’s brow furrowed. Slowly, a gleam
of understanding filled his eyes.

“Franklin Smythe’s son?” he asked.

“Collette Smythe’s brother,” Rachel prodded. “You
know, the girl he says you knocked up in high
school and abandoned?”

Disbelief colored Luke’s face.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he
demanded, anger creeping into his tone. “He told
you that?”

“Is it true?”

“That I impregnated…” He trailed off, his jaw
almost hitting the mahogany desk as a dawning
horror filled his eyes, and rage slowly crept over his
features.

“Is this some kind of sick game?” he choked.
“Damien Smythe got you pregnant as revenge?”

“I don’t think a baby was really a part of his plan,”
Rachel offered by way of consolation, but it did
nothing to dispel the red tinge in Luke’s face.

“He’s out of his fucking mind!” Luke roared. “I
never got Collette pregnant! Trust me, she would
have said something if I had!”

Rachel eyed him uncertainly at first, but she
believed Luke. He’d never lied to her before and
she was sure he wasn’t lying about this.

“Damien seems to think that you did and that
Collette had an abortion which caused her some
sort of mental break. And then she also tried to
commit suicide?”

Consternation and dismay filled Luke’s face.

“No!” he insisted. “There’s no way! If Collette was
pregnant, the baby certainly wasn’t mine.”

He paused and she could see the wheels in his mind
turning.

He’s wondering what Meredith is going to make of
this when she hears about it. Dammit, I shouldn’t
have come. I’m just going to cause drama for them
over ancient history.

“Well, regardless of the truth behind it, Damien
should know he’s about to be a father,” Rachel
sighed. “I wasn’t going to tell him. Ever. But…the
more I think about it, the more I feel like the baby
deserves to know his father.”

“But, but – he’s obviously a sadistic asshole, if he
tried to hurt you to get revenge! How could you
want him in your life? In your baby’s life?” he
asked incredulously.

“Oh, not my life. Never again. And I mean ever.”
Rachel’s heart still ached when she thought about
his treachery. “But the more I think about it, the

more I think that he’s a little…like you, Luke.” She
braced herself for the explosion she knew was
coming.

“What?! How could you say that? I would never
hurt you!”

“But that’s exactly my point, Luke. You would do
everything in your power to protect me. Always.
And Damien feels the same about his family. He
was obviously misled by at least one of them, so
that means he’s prone to being a stupid asshat, but
ultimately, he was putting his family first…” Her
voice trailed off as she realized she had almost had
that position in his life.

How could that still hurt? After the betrayal and
the pain? I just have to forget him already. It’s not
like I could ever trust him with my heart again
anyways.

“That’s just crazy!” Luke sputtered, this time
reaching for his cell phone. “I’m nothing like him.
And you’re right – he’s going to damn well provide
for this kid and set the record straight. And then
I’m going to kill the son-of-a-bitch.”

“I don’t want him in the baby’s life if he doesn’t
want to be,” Rachel stressed vehemently. “IF he
wants a chance to be in the baby’s life, then, I
guess he can maybe have it, but I’d be just peachy

if he doesn’t.”

That would actually be so much easier, she
muttered under her breath.

“And the way things were left, I have to assume he
might not want to be,” Rachel said quickly. “I…I
guess that’s why I’m asking you to tell him. I really
don’t want him to laugh in my face — I trusted him
initially or I wouldn’t have, you know ... I can’t go
through his rejection again.”

“He won’t fucking be laughing in my face,” Luke
assured her, a familiar rage shadowing his eyes.

“Don’t hurt him, Luke,” Rachel told her brother
firmly. “Promise me.”

“I can’t promise you that,” he snapped back.

“Luke…if you don’t promise me, then I’ll do it
myself,” Rachel insisted firmly, waiting for him to
acknowledge her demand.

“Fine!” he growled. “But he won’t always be safe,
Rach. Mark my words. I can wait out a vendetta
too.”

Rachel rolled her eyes.

What the hell was wrong with men? Did they all
think with some archaic caveman part of their
brain when their protective emotions were

involved?

“In the interim, maybe I can stay with Remy,” she
offered quickly. “Or at a hotel. Meredith isn’t going
to take this well.”

Luke’s face was the picture of fury, but he placed a
comforting hand on her shoulder.

“It’s just not true,” he insisted again. “Whatever
Damien told you, it’s a lie. As messed up as she
was, had I known about a baby, I would have
figured out a way to see she was cared for.”

Rachel nodded and leaned toward her brother to
kiss his cheek.

“I believe you,” she said softly. “But I still think it’s
a better idea if I go to Remy’s until it’s all sorted
out.”

Luke nodded begrudgingly and exhaled.

“This is fucking nuts,” he growled. “But I’ll get to
the bottom of it, I promise.”

“No!” Rachel said sharply. “Forget about Collette
or whatever happened when you were in high
school. It’s long over now. I just want you to deliver
the message to Damien so he knows about his kid.
It’s not easy, I know, but I feel strongly that it’s not
right to keep it from him.”

“Sure,” Luke replied, the word seeming to stick to
the roof of his mouth and Rachel felt a jab of
worry.

Maybe I made a mistake coming to him. Maybe I
should have just sent an email.

But there was no guarantee that Damien would
read an email from her and if Rachel was being
honest with herself, she knew that she’d come to
Luke because…well, she knew that Luke would
tell her the truth.

Even if it’s not one I want to hear.

“I’m calling a car for you and I’ll tell Remy and
Olive you’re on your way.”

She nodded and squeezed his hand gently.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “Sorry I doubted you.”

Luke met her eyes and shook his ebony mane of
hair earnestly.

“You don’t need to be sorry about a damned thing,”
he growled. “I wish I could say the same about that
fucking idiot, Damien Smythe.”

“Y

C H A P T E R 1 4

ou aren’t going to believe this,”
Chandra breathed, darting into
Damien’s

office.

“But

Luke

Vaughan is outside.”

A peculiar sense of life coming full-circle flowed
through his body. He kept his face impassive.

“He’s pissed!” Chandra continued, her eyes wide
and almost scared. “You better talk to him.”

His instinct was to tell the cocksucker to fuck off,
but he would be lying if curiosity hadn’t
overwhelmed him.

Did something happen to Rachel?

The question twisted a knife through his gut. He’d
tried to discover how she was doing, after

everything fell apart. He’d only recently found out
she was no longer the director at Hollywell Hospice
and that had him concerned. She wouldn’t have left
a job she loved as a result of his vendetta, would
she? The thought pained him.

Isn’t that you wanted to do, you idiot? Breaking
her was the plan, remember?

“Show him in,” Damien instructed, sitting back as
Chandra hurried out of the inner office. On some
level, he had been expecting the visit from Luke
immediately after his and Rachel’s last meeting, but
apparently she hadn’t run to her big brother to fight
her battles for her. And as the months had passed
without word from Rachel or her brother, he
realized he was almost disappointed.

How many times had he thought to go speak with
Rachel, to at least try and smooth things over? But
what could he possibly have said that would make
her want to hear him? He’d behaved like an
asshole, motivated by some notion of avenging his
sister.

A sister who didn’t seem to need avenging
anymore, nor even knew about it.

He knew that walking away from Rachel would be
challenging, at first. What he hadn’t counted on
was how much he found himself missing her.

It didn’t help matters that his father would not let
things drop and was constantly on him to reconcile
with her. The knowledge that Franklin wanted them
together only served to keep Damien away from
her, to protect her from further hurt at the hands of
the Smythe family.

There’s something else going on with Dad. This has
to be about something other than just getting back
at Luke Vaughan.

But life had gone back to a relative normal, even if
Damien did often think of Rachel and what she was
doing.

And now her brother was storming into his office,
smoke almost emanating from his nostrils.

“You and I have something to discuss,” Luke
hissed, advancing on him. Instantly, Damien rose
and met his eyes evenly, both men a hair’s breadth
apart in height.

“Sit down then,” Damien growled, determined not
to be intimidated by Luke’s blustering. Whether or
not he had decided to let go of the age-old
vendetta, Damien still had no respect for Luke
Vaughan.

“You don’t have any right to tell me what to do,”
Luke snarled. “Not after what you did.”

“If this is about Rachel, that was months ago. Why
are you coming to me now?”

“Why did you target my sister, she had absolutely
nothing to do with Collette’s relationship with me.
What bullshit did Collette feed you?” Luke
snapped. “I never got her pregnant!”

The information caused a stirring of uncertainty in
Damien’s gut, but he maintained the glower on his
face.

“Like you would ever admit to being a coward,”
Damien sneered.

Luke glared at him hatefully.

“I should just fucking bust your pretty face,” Luke
sneered. “Sadly, I promised my sister I wouldn’t do
that.”

Confusion swept through Damien as he studied
Luke’s furious face.

Really? She waited six months to send Luke after
me?

Granted, he hadn’t known Rachel all that well, but
the woman he’d met hardly seemed like the type to
send her big brother after an ex—particularly not
after such an extended amount of time had lapsed.

You’re not an ex, remember? You were a hate fuck.

“Is Rachel okay?” Damien heard himself ask. He
could have kicked himself for showing the
weakness.

Luke scoffed.

“Do you give a shit if she is? She was just a game to
you, wasn’t she? You abused a decent girl for no
reason!”

“My sister was a decent girl too! And I did not
abuse Rachel!” He spat, knowing at least on some
level it was a bald-faced lie.

“Your sister had problems long before I came
along,” Luke spat back. “I didn’t add or subtract to
whatever was going on in her head. Instead of
blaming me, maybe you can look to your father for
the origins of that mess.”

Damien bristled.

“I want to know what she told you,” Luke hissed,
drawing his face closer to Damien. “Whatever it
was, she lied.”

Damien’s eyes narrowed, his lips parting to protest,
but as he thought about it, he realized that Collette
had never told him about her pregnancy.

No, but Dad sure as hell went on about it.

An uneasiness swept through Damien as the sordid

tale replayed in his head. He had been young when
it had all happened but he remembered the breakup
between Luke and Collette, the days of her crying
in her room. Then he remembered the ambulance
showing up one night at home. He had been
ordered to stay in his room, but his father had filled
him in about what had happened the next day.

His father. Fuck!

Had there really been a pregnancy, an abortion?

He loathed that he was second-guessing the story
that Franklin had told him, but why was that
surprising? Franklin had always had ulterior
motives when it came to his children.

There’s only one way to get the truth for sure—by
asking Collette.

“I’m waiting!” Luke barked. “Well?”

“You really need to get out of my face,” Damien
insisted, not at all intimidated by Luke, but
definitely getting pissed off. “I’m not talking to you
while you’re breathing down my neck.”

“You’re really in no position to tell me anything,”
Luke growled. “You have no idea what you’ve
done, you stupid bastard. But you’re going to make
it right,” he vowed.

Damien blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

“What exactly do you think I did?” he demanded
warily.

Luke smirked humorlessly.

“You’re going to be a daddy, you prick.”

The words didn’t register right away and he stared
at Luke blankly.

“What?”

“That’s what happens when you take advantage of
unsuspecting women,” Luke hissed.

A combination of emotions flowed through Damien
—denial, disbelief and oddly, defensiveness for
Rachel.

“Your sister is stronger than you give her credit
for,” he growled at the furious, ex-MMA fighter.

If anything, she had the upper hand. Sometimes he
was glad that she never figured out how deeply he
had come to care for her.

Of course he didn’t add that.

“My sister is six months pregnant with your baby.”

Damien peered at him dubiously.

Is this some kind of counter-revenge?

Strangely, he couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t,
that Luke was speaking the truth. Everything about
his anger seemed real and Damien suspected that
Luke was a better fighter than he was an actor.

“I want you to pull out your check book and
write,” Luke instructed. “I’ll deliver it to her and
you’ll stay the hell away from her and my family.
Do I make myself clear?”

Damien scoffed.

“She sent you here to get money out of me and tell
me to stay away?” he asked skeptically. Luke’s
eyes became even more furious, if that was
possible.

“She sent me here because she was afraid you’d be
as cruel as you’ve already been to her and laugh in
her face. She left a job that she loved, and likely
her career because of this little vendetta you
cooked up. I’m the one telling you to stay the fuck
away from her — if you value your legs.”

“Threatening me isn’t going to work, Luke,”
Damien snapped.

“It better work, because if I see your face around
my sister—”

“Your sister is not a child who needs you to protect
her,” Damien snarled. “Stop acting like she is.”

“Funny coming from you. You spent twenty years
brewing some insane revenge over a matter that
didn’t even happen for yours.”

“Collette didn’t know anything about this,” Damien
growled before he could stop himself. Luke’s brows
shot up.

“You took it upon yourself to do this? To what end,
Smythe? Were you going to have Rachel fall in love
with you? Marry you? Or maybe this pregnancy
was your plan all along?”

Damien lowered his eyes, knowing how insane it all
sounded now. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty,
after all.

Fuck! He has every right to be incensed.

“I don’t see that check book.”

“I will not walk away from my child,” Damien
barked back. “No matter how much you threaten
me.”

“You already did. When you threw a woman like
Rachel out of your life,” Luke snarled at Damien.
“I’m just ensuring you stay away.”

The men held each other’s gazes unwaveringly.

“Rachel doesn’t want to see you, Damien,” Luke
said softly. “Or else she would be here herself.
You’ve hurt her enough that it took her six months
to even tell me about what you did. She tried it on
her own first, cause that’s just who she is. The only
reason she came to me is because this pregnancy
has cost her her livelihood, and it’s kind of hard to
raise a kid by yourself when you have no money
coming in. If you have an ounce of morality, you’ll
leave her to raise her child – away from you and
your insane family.”

Damien’s jaw clenched, knowing that arguing with
Luke was useless. He would have to speak with
Rachel himself.

Not that I expect that will go a whole lot better.

“Start writing,” Luke snarled. “You’re beginning to
piss me off.”

“I thought Vaughan Industries was thriving,”
Damien said sarcastically. “I had no idea that you
were so strapped for cash.”

Luke laughed harshly. “Oh, no, no, no, little
hypocrite. You are going to write me that check, so
that I can tell Rachel this is how you’re dealing
with your “mistake”. And my sister turned away
from Vaughan money, the name and all it stood for
years ago. If you had bothered to investigate at all,

you’d know that. It’s a matter of pride with her, and
you expect me to force it back into her life?” Luke
shot back. “Typical deadbeat.”

Damien gaped at him, a short laugh escaping his
lips.

“I’m telling you that I don’t want to walk away
from Rachel—”

“And I’m telling you the matter is closed. Holy shit,
Smythe, if I have to tell you to write the check one
more time—”

“I’m going to give you a check, Luke, but this
won’t be the last you see of me. I’m going to talk to
Rachel. And you better tell her I’ll be there – soon.
But right now I need to figure out what the hell
happened to my sister.”

Luke smirked.

“We’ll see,” he replied, snatching the check from
Damien’s hands. He seemed satisfied with the
number before returning his dark blue eyes on the
younger man’s face.

“Rachel will see this as a payoff which is no more
than what she was expecting anyway. No matter
what you do from here, she won’t trust you. You’ve
already shown her what a dick you are. This is just
the icing on the cake.”

Luke spun to leave, his words another painful slash
through Damien’s crumbling life.

“I would never desert my child, Vaughan. You’d do
well to remember that.”

“You don’t care about that baby any more than you
cared about Rachel,” Luke growled. “Drop the act
and crawl back under the rock you came out from.”

Luke was gone then, leaving Damien to stare after
him, heart thudding in his chest.

Rachel is pregnant with my child, a child
conceived out of a misguided sense of hate.

This was the universe’s way of telling him that he
and Rachel weren’t finished with one another,
something he’d suspected for months. However
he’d gone into their union, Damien had left Rachel
somehow changed. He hadn’t expected the impact
their short time together would have on him and
deep down, he had clung to the hope that he might
see her again.

Now, fate had come knocking on his door to tell
him that they weren’t done after all.

I don’t give a shit what that bastard Luke says—I’m
going to talk to Rachel and we’ll figure this out.

But he knew he couldn’t go there until he had the

entire story finally.

He needed to go back to the roots and learn the
truth before confronting Rachel.

Even if that meant splitting open old wounds and
finding out he’d been a pawn of his father’s—
again.

Whatever the outcome, Rachel deserved the truth.
And one way or another, Damien intended to give it
to her.

The only question was, could she forgive him?

C H A P T E R 1 5

here was something endearing about
Remy’s fiancée. She had opened her

arms, home and heart to Rachel, making her feel
completely comfortable. Not an easy feat, to be
sure.

“I really appreciate you letting me stay here,”
Rachel told the girl as she set a cup of chamomile
tea before her. “Things are kind of a mess right
now.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Olive replied genially,
her dark eyes warm. “I’ve seen my fair share of
messes.”

Rachel grunted and reached for the mug, her eyes
darting around the condo.

“I gotta tell you, I always thought I was going to be

the one to marry Remy.” There was a teasing note
in her tone.

“I’m sure every little girl thinks she’s going to grow
up to marry her brother’s best friend,” Olive
conceded, grinning and unperturbed. Rachel
nodded and exhaled.

“Maybe that’s what happens when you grow up
with serious daddy issues.”

“Don’t get me started,” Olive laughed. She nodded
toward the coffee table in the living room. “I’m in
the process of doing a DNA search for my own
father.”

There was a home DNA test sitting openly on the
table and Rachel sighed.

“Do you really want to know the truth?” she asked.
“I mean, if you’ve already gone your whole life
without ever meeting the guy, what could the
difference possibly be now?”

Olive shrugged.

“Closure, I guess?” she suggested. “The man who I
thought was my father sold me to Remy – for under
a half mil, I’ve gotta add,” she told Rachel with
disgust. “I guess whatever I learn can’t be worse
than that.”

Rachel didn’t know whether to commiserate with
the woman, or chuckle.

Olive seemed to be over the trauma, as it hadn’t
taken any prodding to get her to spill the tale, and
she could swear that the woman was more
disgusted by the amount she had been sold for, than
by the ludicrous situation where a father sold his
own child to an ex-Navy Seal, turned famous tattoo
artist.

“Sorry,”

Rachel

mumbled,

settling

commiserating. “I guess we all have our crosses to
bear.”

Will my son want to know who his father is when
he’s older?

Rachel reasoned that at least she’d be able to
provide him with that answer when the time came.

Or maybe I’ll marry someone and my child will
always think my husband is the father, like Olive’s
mom did.

She found herself sneaking a look at Olive, curious
to know how her mother had gotten away with it
for so long. From what Rachel had learned, Olive
had not been treated well by the man she’d always
thought to be her father.

Then again, if she had been, she would have never

met Remy. Lucky bitch, she thought without any
real malice.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Olive said lightly, “but
what’s the deal with your baby daddy? All Remy
will really tell me is that the guy’s an epic bastard.”

Rachel shuddered at the ‘baby daddy’ phrasing.

Good God. I’ve become a Maury show. Baby
daddy. Jesus Christ.

“It’s a long story but he won’t be in the picture,”
she sighed. She thought of the hefty check, sitting
uncashed in her purse.

Luke’s words still echoed in her head.

“He’s not interested in you or the baby,” her
brother had said. “He’ll send you more money if
you need it.”

Rachel didn’t know why it had hurt as much to
hear as it did. What had she really expected? That
he was going to drop everything and declare his
love for her? Beg for her forgiveness?

Could you forgive him anyway? He never cared
about you. That’s why you sent Luke instead of
talking to him yourself. You knew this was going to
be the outcome.

His rejection of her ... again ... didn’t change the

fact that she still thought about his dark eyes,
roaming over her body, searching her face as if he
could read into her soul as effortlessly as he read
her body.

What was he thinking? How could his plan ever
have worked?

There were still way more questions than answers
and maybe that was what bothered Rachel the most
—the not knowing.

“Are you hungry? Remy will be home from the
shop soon,” Olive said, rising from the island. “I
can whip up some tacos or something.”

Rachel stared at her, the question barely filtering
through her mind.

You can’t stay here either. These people have a life
together. You’re a third wheel here.

Remy wasn’t her brother and she couldn’t stay with
Luke and Meredith. They were wonderful, but she
needed her own space to learn how to live her life
as a mother.

“Rachel?” Olive asked, cocking her head to the
side with concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I’m just
thinking.”

“I bet,” Olive chuckled. “But how do you feel
about tacos?”

“Sounds great,” Rachel agreed even though food
was the last thing on her mind.

I have to take that money and go back to New York,
she thought. I can’t stay here in Detroit.

“Rachel, you don’t have to make any decisions
right now,” Olive said softly as if reading her mind.
“You need to focus on the baby and nothing else
right now.”

“I am focussing on the baby,” Rachel said with
determination. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking
about.”

“I know a good OB/GYN,” Olive suggested. “I can
try to get you an appointment.”

Rachel raised her eyebrows with suspicion.

“Are you—?”

“No, no,” Olive laughed. “We’re not having a baby
until after I finish college. One more semester.”

“Oh.”

Rachel shifted her eyes away.

“Thanks anyway but I’m not staying in Detroit. I

already have a doctor in New York.”

“The hell you’re going back to New York!” Remy
snapped, sauntering in through the front door.
“How the hell are we going to keep an eye on you
when you’re out east?”

“It’s not that far away,” Rachel said, smothering a
grimace. She hadn’t intended for Remy to hear her
plans. Remy was just as protective of her as Luke
so it was no wonder he expected her to stay too.

“Rach, you have no one in New York,” Remy
reasoned. “Your job isn’t waiting for you, you have
no apartment—”

“Gee, thanks for reminding me about all that’s gone
right in my life,” Rachel said sarcastically. “I
appreciate that.”

“You know what I mean,” Remy insisted, ambling
toward her, his eyes fraught with concern. “What if
something happens to you?”

She heard the underlying disapproval in his voice
and suddenly she felt like she was eight years old
again, being lectured by her teenaged brother.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Remy,” Rachel shot back.
“I can plan my own life accordingly.”

“Did you plan to get knocked up by some

psychopath with a vendetta?” Remy barked back.

Dear God. Remy reminds me of Dad too. I really
need to go back home.

“Damien isn’t a psychopath,” she heard herself
mutter. “He thought he was doing right by his sister.
Just like you and Luke would have done for me.”

She looked meaningfully at him.

“And if you and Luke say you would have done
any differently, you would be lying directly to my
face.”

“You think me or your brother would drag an
innocent party into some skewed revenge plot?
Knock her up and abandon her?”

“Damien already thinks that’s what Luke did,”
Rachel reminded him. “And here we are. Besides,
he thinks that I helped push his sister toward her
suicide attempt.”

At Remy’s raised brow, she quickly explained, “I
didn’t of course! I’m not sure why he thinks that,
but someone in his family told him that I was
involved.

“Well, then he’s got liars in his family,” Remy
argued.

“I know that. And you know that. But we trust

what our family tells us, right, Remy? Unless it’s
Carter speaking, of course.” A delicate shudder
worked through her as she thought of how truly
untrustworthy her father had been.

“Okay,” Olive said quickly, raising her hands.
“Let’s not get into a heated argument over this.
Rachel, do you want to help me in the kitchen?”

Rachel shook her head.

“No,” she muttered, feeling so overwhelmingly
tired. “I’m sorry, Olive. I think I need to lie down
for a bit. I’m tired.”

“That’s a good idea,” Remy agreed in that
authoritative way that made Rachel roll her eyes at
him. “Get some sleep so you can think more
rationally.”

Rachel scowled at him but she didn’t bother to
respond before storming toward the back of the loft
and slipping into the spare bedroom.

She hadn’t been lying—she was exhausted, and as
soon as she lay her head on the pillow, sleep
overcame her.

Should I stay here until the baby’s born or go back
home? She wondered, her palms caressing the swell
of her womb.

Why had she come in the first place? She could
have easily asked Luke for help from New York. In
fact, her brother had been forced to go to the east
coast to confront Damien, hadn’t he?

You came here because you don’t trust yourself to
stay away from Damien, even after everything he’s
done to you.

The reality of the thought caused her eyes to fly
open and she exhaled in a breath of nervousness.

After everything this man has done, you still want
to give him the benefit of a doubt he doesn’t want.
You really do need all the help you can get.

Misery embraced her and Rachel closed her eyes,
reaching for the blanket to pull protectively around
her.

You need to stay here, she thought, succumbing to
sleep. Tomorrow you can start looking for places.

“W

AKE

, R

ACH

.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up in
confusion. Damien sat perched at her side, his
brown eyes huge and concerned.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded,
struggling to sit up but his strong arms pushed her
back against the pillows, his breath warming her
face.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he
explained. “Why did you come here?”

“Is this a joke?” she asked angrily. “You know why
I came here! Look!”

She tossed the blanket aside but to her shock, the
baby bump was gone.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” he protested, lowering his
head to kiss her lips. Eagerly, she reached up to
pull him toward her, a familiar but almost
forgotten burst of heat coursing through her.

“No!” she thought she snapped, but the words
didn’t leave her lips and she pulled him even
closer.

“I missed you, I swear I did!” he murmured, his
words tickling the lines of her face as he dropped
his head over the curve of her chin. His strong
hands roamed over her, seeking out the contours of
her body, lingering in every place that had been
neglected since he had last been there.

His lips trailed along her naked skin and she idly
wondered where her clothes had gone. But even
then, subconsciously, she knew she was in the
throes of a dream.

Don’t wake up, she pleaded with her subconscious.
Please. You need this.

His tongue continued along the flatness of her
belly, legs rising around his ears for him to nuzzle
against the soaked slit between her legs. A low
moan escaped her lips and she arched her body
upward to fill his mouth.

“Oh god, I missed you,” she mumbled. “Even
though you’re an incredible bastard.”

He moaned into her clit, the feeling sending
shockwaves through her system and bringing her
higher toward the orgasm he always coaxed from
her with such ease.

“Why did you have to be such a bastard?” she
moaned, the build up of release seizing her.

“What if you’re wrong about me?” he asked,
somehow still lapping at her with fervor. “What if
this was all a mistake?”

“I’m not falling for that — I fell for your stories
one too many times.” she sighed, her legs
quivering and with a cry of passion, she spilled

against his waiting mouth, knowing that this was as
close to Damien as she’d ever get again.

Suddenly, he was gone and she was alone again, a
deep sense of loneliness overwhelming her.

A low sob formed inside her throat and grew into a
cry of sorrow, which reverberated through the
room.

It was enough to rouse her from sleep and when her
eyes opened for real this time, her face was stained
with tears.

Stop it! She growled to herself, stifling her sniffles
with a hand before Olive or Remy could hear her. I
can do this. On my own.

But as she dried her eyes with the back of her
hands, she couldn’t stop the dream from replaying
in her mind.

His words bounced around in her head.

“What if you’re wrong about me? What if this is
all a mistake?”

Miserably, she swallowed her tears and released a
long sigh of resignation. She wasn’t wrong and it
wasn’t a mistake.

She and her baby were still alone.

C H A P T E R 1 6

amien turned to his driver. “I won’t be
long.”

“Of course, Mr. Smythe.”

As he rang Collette’s doorbell, he heard the
cacophony of barking that his arrival had initiated.
Soon, the pounding of large dog paws could be
heard careening around the corner of the entrance.

“Well, hello to you too, Icarus.”

“Coming!” he heard his sister shout.

“Damien?” Collette appeared on the porch, her
eyes lit with confusion. “Is everything okay? Is it
Dad?”

“No, no,” he assured her, closing the distance

between them. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to talk to you about something
that happened a long time ago. Can we sit down for
a minute?”

“Of course.”

Damien followed his sister inside the house, his
mind whirling as she led him into the kitchen.

“Want a beer or something?”

He shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I just want to talk to you about
Luke Vaughan.”

Collette’s eyes darkened and Damien instantly
regretted he’d brought it up so abruptly.

“What about him?”

“Look, I know that whatever happened with you
happened at a time when you were vulnerable—”

“Vulnerable? I was a fucking basket case, Dam.
You were too young to remember but I had a lot of
issues back then.”

“I remember,” Damien muttered uncomfortably.
“Which is why I’m so reluctant to bring it up.”

Collette chuckled softly.

“You can talk about it. It’s embarrassing, not
painful,” she replied, plopping onto a wooden chair
to study his face curiously. “Not anymore, at least.”

“Not painful?” he echoed. “You were a mess when
Luke broke up with you. I…you tried to hurt
yourself.”

Collette’s face shadowed, but she kept eye contact
with him. “Things were…tough, for me. Back then.
I struggled – a lot. With depression, and some other
mental issues, Damien, but it’s okay. I’m better
now.” She smiled warmly at him as if she was trying
to comfort him, instead of the other way around.
“I’m really sorry you had to see that, by the way. I
know I never…apologized before. Dad forbade me
from talking to you about it. He said he’d handle it,
and I was never to bring it up. But now…I don’t
think that was really fair. I’ve learned a lot in
recovery, and one of the things I’ve learned is that
a person should never try to hide their condition, or
even be embarrassed about it. Sometimes it really
helps when it’s out in the open, you know?
Granted, I was an emotional mess, but that was
before I was properly diagnosed with bipolar
disorder. Times were a little different then.”

Damien swallowed, careful to choose his words
properly.

“What about the pregnancy?” he asked, looking
away as he spoke.

“What pregnancy?”

His head raised sharply and he looked at her in
disbelief.

“The one which resulted in the botched abortion
which resulted in your attempt on your life!” he
cried. Collette gaped at him, sheer confusion etched
on her face.

“Damien! Where the hell did you get such an
idea?” she demanded, her face paling. “That never
happened…oh my God!”

Realization colored her face and Damien was sure
he’d never seen his sister so incensed.

“Is this something that Franklin told you?” she
demanded.

Uh oh. She called him Franklin. Oh fuck…

He could only nod, not trusting his voice.

“That son of a bitch! He really does take the cake
for the most despicable father on Earth, doesn’t
he?”

“But you had an abortion—”

“Stop saying that!” Collette hissed, looking around
as if she was worried someone might overhear. “It’s
simply not true.”

“Then why would he tell me all that…?” Damien
asked in disbelief. His entire world view was
shattering before his eyes.

Collette scowled, contempt written all over her
face.

“Do you know our father?”

Shame threatened to smother Damien and he
looked at his sister in shock.

“Oh God…”

“Damn Franklin for saying that to you,” she
snapped irritably. “This whole time you thought I
was some helpless victim of Luke Vaughan? If
anything, I put that poor asshole through the ringer
with my mental issues.”

Her eyes narrowed further.

“Why are you bringing him up now?”

Oh my God. What did I do?

“Why would Dad say that if it never happened?”
Damien demanded again, trying to make sense of
what he’d learned. “What the hell…?”

Collette grunted again.

“Our father was always trying to get an ‘in’ with
Carter Vaughan,” she explained. “He was over the
moon when I started dating Luke. He had no idea
what a piece of shit Luke’s dad was. But in
retrospect, I doubt he would have cared. Dad was
all about the money and making connections. It
turned out that Carter had the power to stand in our
father’s way.”

Collette paused and eyed him, a look of
understanding coming over her face.

“Wait a sec…he was incensed…Franklin. When
Luke broke up with me. He was probably more
upset than I was, to be honest – and that’s saying a
lot, because I went crazy. In hindsight, it was the
event that got me the help I needed, but at the time
I sure didn’t see it that way. And neither did Dad.
He’s the one that told me we’d make them pay. I
thought he was trying to support me…in a fucked
up kind of way, but still. I wonder…” she trailed
off, both siblings not wanting to believe their father
could have stooped so low as to manipulate both of
his children to further his business dealings. For
decades.

Fuck.

“I probably only started dating Luke because he

pushed me toward him. Franklin is a great
manipulator, you know?”

“Oh…I’m starting to see that with blinding clarity,”
Damien breathed.

“I think him and Carter had some deal in the works.
Ultimately it fell through and Franklin never really
recovered from the financial loss of it. He had a
hard on for that guy until the day he died.”

“And beyond,” Damien muttered, still not fully
understanding what his father could possibly have
hoped to gain by ruining Rachel Vaughan though.

“What did he make you do?” Collette insisted.
“Jesus Christ, Damien, I told you to walk away
from the old man years ago.”

“I have to go,” Damien breathed, his fists clenching
hard. “Thanks Collette. I’m sorry to have brought
this up again.”

“Damien!”

But he was already gone, flying toward the town
car with his heart in his throat.

“George, take me to—”

“Ms. Vaughan’s apartment?” the driver guessed and
Damien eyed him.

“How did you know?” he muttered.

“I knew you’d come around eventually,” the
chauffeur replied.

CAR

HAD

BARELY

STOP P ED

outside the building,

but Damien was already jumping out, flying inside
the lobby to buzz Rachel. After the third time
poking his finger against the intercom, an elderly
woman exited the double doors and Damien let
himself in.

“Hey! Do you live here?” she yelled after him but
Damien was too busy running up the steps,
forsaking the elevator.

What the hell are you even going to say to her?

He didn’t care. All that mattered was that he faced
her. And came clean. She’d never forgive him, he
was sure. But he had to tell her – that she was right,
he was an asshole. A completely unforgivable
asshole.

On the sixth floor, he found himself pounding on
her apartment door.

He already knew he could no longer find her at the
Hospice.

Damien desperately wished he’d thought to ask
Luke more about Rachel when he’d come to the
office, but he knew Rachel’s brother probably
wouldn’t have disclosed any real details anyways.

“Oh, my God! If you’re a Jehovah’s Witness, so
help me God—”

The door flew inward and Damien was staring at an
elderly man, his face pinched into a scowl.

“What do you want?”

“Where’s

Rachel?”

Damien

demanded,

dumbfounded.

Did I get the apartment wrong?

But he knew that spot on the wall, the same one
where he’d pinned her, ready to take her right there
in the hallway without reservations.

“Who?” the old man snapped. “You have the
wrong unit, boy.”

The old man turned to slam the door in his face but
Damien stuck out a foot to block him.

“When did you move in here?”

The old timer glowered.

“Two weeks ago,” he snapped. “Now get lost

before I call the cops. No wonder she doesn’t want
you anymore. You’re rude!”

Damien moved his foot out of the way and allowed
the door to slam in his face, his mind whirling
crazily.

Where did she go? She’s pregnant with my baby
and now she’s gone.

He inhaled and forced himself to calm down.

Think.

There was only one place left, that he could
imagine Rachel might have gone if she wasn’t in
New York anymore.

She’s gone home.

He spun back for the stairs, his hands reaching into
his pocket for his cell phone. As he descended the
steps, he pulled up flights to Detroit.

“She wasn’t there, sir?” George asked.

“No,” Damien replied. “And there’s no flights out
tonight. Fuck!”

He inhaled and looked at the driver.

“How much gas is in the tank?” Damien asked.

“There are gas stations everywhere you can drive,

Mr. Smythe,” George reminded him.

“Right. Good. Of course. We’re going on a road
trip, George.”

“Detroit, sir?”

Damien’s mouth parted but no sound came out at
first.

“H-how do you know that?” he demanded.

George chuckled and shook his greying head.

“Mr. Smythe, I have eyes and ears.”

“One day, you’ll have to write a tell-all memoir,
George,” Damien muttered. “Just leave this part of
the story out of it.”

“I have no idea what you mean, sir. Shall we leave
now?”

Damien shot him a grateful smile and nodded.

“Yes, please.”

“It will be fine, sir,” George said, putting the car in
drive.

“How can you know that?” Damien sighed. “You
have no idea how stupid I was.”

“Because Ms. Vaughan had a father like yours too.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I set out to hurt
her, George. On purpose. Fuck.”

“As we always say, Mr. Smythe, you can only
change the future.”

“I can try,” he agreed, pulling up his contacts on his
phone.

He needed to have a long, deep conversation with
his father.

WAS

nine o’clock when the town car pulled up to

Luke Vaughan’s residence and Damien was both
emotionally and physically exhausted from the
journey.

“George, we’ll find a place to rest up,” Damien
promised the driver. “But I need to know that she’s
here first—even if Luke doesn’t let me see her.”

“I understand, sir. Take your time. These old bones
still have more juice in them than you might think.”

Damien didn’t respond and instead bounded up the
steps toward the door. He recognized the house
from his childhood. It was strange to be on the
steps of Carter Vaughan’s mansion after all those
years.

He rang the doorbell and in less than a minute, he
was facing a gorgeous blonde with an impassive
face.

“Yes?” she asked coldly, leading Damien to wonder
if she didn’t already know who he was.

“I’m looking for Rachel,” he said. “Please.”

Her brow knit and she shook her head.

“I’m sorry, there’s no Rachel at this residence.
Who are you?”

“You know who I am!” he snapped angrily. “At
least let me talk to Luke.”

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know who you are,” the
blonde insisted. “What’s your name?”

“Damien Smythe,” he growled, knowing she was
toying with him. Her face curled into a sneer, her
full lips becoming a cruel smile.

“Perfect!” she announced with an alarming
cheerfulness. Suddenly, an envelope was slapped in
his hand and he looked at it in disbelief. “You saved
me the trouble of coming to you.”

Damien looked at it uncomprehendingly.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded.

“It’s two things,” the woman replied. “First, it’s an
order to stay a hundred yards away from the
Vaughan family at all times.”

“Fuck. You’re the lawyer?”

Her sneer faded into a death glare.

“I’m more than the lawyer, Mr. Smythe. I’m
Rachel’s sister-in-law. I will make you so sorry you
ever fucked with me if you come back here, or if
you try to hurt her again.”

“I’m not trying to hurt her. I want to explain—”

“Don’t you want to know what the second part of
the summons is?”

“Summons?” he echoed. “What summons?”

Luke appeared behind his wife, his cobalt eyes
glowing with fire.

“You should have just stayed away, Smythe,” he
sighed. “Why didn’t you just listen?”

“What is this, Luke? I just want to make sure
Rachel is okay!” Damien pleaded. “I made a
mistake—”

“Yes, you did,” Luke conceded. “Mer? You want to
tell him?”

“Rachel is petitioning the court to have you give up
your parental rights. She’ll see you in court.”

The door slammed in Damien’s face and he stood
there, shell shocked and in disbelief.

“…A

C H A P T E R 1 7

sshole,” she heard Remy snarl. “Good. I

hope he cried like the little bitch he is….no, she’s
still sleeping…there’s no need to tell her now…
well, the court date is in three weeks, Luke. There’s
enough time to let her know…of course she’ll
appreciate it.”

Rachel sat back, trying to make sense of what
Remy was talking about with her brother.

What court date? What had they done?

Dammit, she thought, I don’t have a good feeling
about this.

Angrily, she slid open the door to her room and
strode into the living room where Remy had just
hung up the phone.

“What was that about?” she demanded. “What
court date?”

Remy grimaced.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Then you shouldn’t talk so loudly,” she countered.
“What did you guys do?”

“Um, it’s possible that maybe Meredith may have
prepared papers for you to sue for all parental
rights of the baby.” Remy spit the words out as fast
as he could. Rachel noticed his flinch, as if he
expected her to be pissed.

And damn right she was pissed.

The words were little daggers in her heart.

Just hold on a sec, Rachel, and think about this.
Maybe it’s the best thing…in the long run?

The thought hurt hard, but she had to be realistic -
after all, it’s not like Damien had come running
after Luke’s visit, was it?

“But that’s crazy,” she muttered, flopping onto the
couch at his side. Olive was at class, leaving the
two of them alone for a few hours. “I’m the one
who wanted Damien to know about his child. Why
didn’t she come to me with this?”

“You’ve got enough to worry about without legal
issues,” Remy reminded her. “They’re just
watching out for you. We all are.”

“I don’t need to be babysat,” Rachel growled. But
even as she spoke, she thought about how she was
living in his house, knocked up and alone.

“It’s not babysitting. It’s family looking out for one
another,” he said. “Stop taking everything so
personally.”

Rachel didn’t know how to feel. After Luke had
told her that Damien didn’t want anything to do
with their baby, she had cried – but she hadn’t
allowed herself to indulge for long.

It turned out that in a funny way, his rejection was
kind of what she had needed. The affirmation that
she was on her own.

She had known that, of course, but his check had
just made it more…final. To be honest, she couldn’t
deny that there had been a part of her that thought
he may have tried to contact her when he found
out.

But he hadn’t.

So, if you know that it’s just you and the baby, why
are you still living with Remy and Olive? Hmm?

“Sorry,” she sighed. “So, he knows—Damien?
About Meredith’s petition?”

“He just got served the papers tonight,” Remy
replied and Rachel’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Doesn’t my signature need to be on something like
that?” she asked. Remy didn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m sure Meredith took care of everything.”

“Ethically?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Don’t change the subject, Remy. Why is this being
done so secretively? Damien made it clear that he
didn’t want any part of this baby…didn’t he?”

Remy didn’t answer and Rachel’s eyes grew huge.

“Didn’t he?” she demanded, sitting up straight.
“Remy, what do you know?”

“Luke will kill me…”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t and right now! I’m in
arm’s reach!”

Remy exhaled.

“I guess Smythe showed up at the house looking for
you,” he muttered. “That’s when they served him.”

“What?!”

Remy nodded, looking miserable.

“What did he say? What did he want?” Rachel
ground out.

“I swear, I have no idea.”

Rachel lumbered to her feet.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find out what the hell is going on,”
she snapped.

“Rachel, don’t!”

She ignored him as she snatched up the phone. It
rang in her hand.

“Hello?” she breathed, not recognizing the number.

“Rachel! Are you okay?” Damien demanded.
“Please, just tell me you’re okay.”

A thousand emotions flooded through her, hearing
that deep voice again, making her head spin.

“I didn’t know you were here in Detroit,” she said.
“How did you get this number?”

“I own a technology company, remember?” he said,
then he paused. “So, you want me to give up my

rights to the baby?”

“No! No, I mean…I don’t know what I want,
Damien.”

“Will you talk to me, Rachel?” he implored. “Just
for five minutes – please.”

“Look Damien, Luke told me that you didn’t want
to have anything to do with me or the baby,”
Rachel sighed, glaring furiously at Remy who
wisely backed out of her room.

“That’s just not true, Rachel – I swear. I told Luke
when he came to my office that I was coming to
talk to you – I just had to straighten things out with
my father…and Collette, first.”

His tone held an unmistakable ring of truth, and
more than that, it showed the integrity that she
knew was so important to Damien. Not integrity
towards her, of course, but to his family. She had
seen it often when they were together, his sense of
duty, of protectiveness towards those he loved.

If he knew any of the truth now, he would have
needed to confront his sister and father before he
came to her. She just didn’t know if he actually
knew any of the truth, because no one was fucking
telling her the truth!

Rachel didn’t know how to react, who to believe.

How was she supposed to make decisions for her
and her baby when everyone kept lying to her?

“I need to see you, Rachel,” he whispered
fervently. “Where are you?”

She blurted out the address to Remy’s loft.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She exhaled as he hung up and scrambled to find a
sweater.

“You’re not meeting him,” Remy said sternly.
“He’s put you through enough.”

“I’m meeting him. I want to hear what he has to
say.”

“Rachel, he used you—”

“I know what he did! I lived through it,
remember?” she yelled. Inhaling sharply, she
collected herself. “That doesn’t change the fact
that he is my child’s father. And that everyone has
been lying to me for way too long.”

He looked down with shame. “Rachel, you know
we all – “

“Yes, I know. You have always tried to protect me,
you and Luke both, but it’s high time I stand on my
own two feet.”

“At least let me come with you. What if he—”

“No.”

There was a finality in her tone and Remy seemed
to sense that arguing was futile.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I’ll be back soon.”

She kissed his cheek and hurried out of the loft to
meet

Damien,

her

stomach

twisting

with

apprehension.

C H A P T E R 1 8

he river was stunningly beautiful at
night, Windsor glimmering on the

Canadian side as they stood staring over the water.

“I don’t even begin to know where to start,”
Damien confessed, quietly, grasping her hand.
“What I did…”

“My brother didn’t do anything to your sister,” she
told him flatly. “You were wrong.”

“I know that now,” he agreed, shaking his head
with disgust. “I spent half my life not realizing I
was being played by my father.”

Rachel just looked at him.

“Why? Why would he say something so horrible
when it never happened?”

Damien drew in a breath, before trying to explain
the whole sordid, ridiculous story.

“Our fathers were supposed to merge companies
back in the early 2000s and something went south.
I’m not sure who was at fault for the deal falling
through but I guess that would really depend on
who you asked.”

“That fucking company,” Rachel muttered. “It
haunts me everywhere I fucking go.”

“My father ended up humiliated by the whole
thing, so of course, he made it his life’s mission to
end Vaughan Industries, or at least to hurt all the
Vaughans that he could reach. I’m not sure how, in
his convoluted mind he expected that to work, but
my father…well, he’s not always sane.”

“I can relate to having a father who’s more than a
little off,” Rachel muttered. She looked at him
warily. “Did you ever have feelings for me,
Damien? Or was I always just… a part of your
father’s plan?”

“That was the entire problem,” Damien said gruffly,
raw emotion making his voice even deeper than she
remembered. “I had feelings for you from the
minute I met you ... honestly ... even before you
ripped me a new one, that first day at the hospice.
My loyalties were so split. On one hand I was

coming to care so damn much for you, but on the
other hand, I really did believe my sister’s life had
been ruined by Luke and your family, and that she
needed avenging.” His gaze was piercing. “I had no
idea everything was a lie.”

“The things we do for family,” Rachel sighed,
understanding seeping into her slowly.

“I don’t expect that you can understand this or
forgive me for anything that’s happened,” he
sighed. “But I do want you to know that I want to
be a part of this baby’s life. Fuck, I want to be a
part of yours too, but I understand that what I did
to you was…reprehensible.”

His jaw clenched with the strength of his emotions.
He glanced down, then met her gaze once again.
“Please know that I’m sorry, Rachel. So very sorry.
You never should have been hurt – I never should
have hurt you. It makes me sick to think of what I
did to you, those things I said to you – fuck! I still
can’t believe I said all those horrible things.”

Rachel’s heart ached. She could hear the sincerity
in his words, but then again, she thought she had
heard sincerity before too. She just couldn’t get
past that.

“I do want you in both of our lives,” she replied
softly, finally accepting that she should have come

to face him herself. They were both being jerked
around by their families. “Even though I’ve hated
myself, every single time ... I haven’t been able to
stop thinking about you since we were together.”

“Me neither…” he sighed again. “Jesus Christ, I
could have avoided all this if I’d just talked to my
sister before believing what my father told all those
years ago.”

“I guess this is what can happen when we let other
people influence our decisions,” she conceded,
thinking about how her family had been making her
decisions these past weeks – without telling her the
truth either. “Classic Othello syndrome here.”

“No. It was my fault – everything. And I’ll never
forgive myself for what I put you through.”

“I agree that you were an ass. Complete and utter,
really. But I could have talked to you – I was fairly
certain that you were being manipulated by your
father. I was just too scared that you’d…hurt me
again.”

His flinch at her blunt words actually made her feel
a bit better. At least he truly regrets…

She lifted her head to stare into his eyes before she
continued.

“Maybe we should start all over again—sans the

“dying” father and all the secrets.”

A relieved smile touched his face and he nodded.

“Are you sure, Rachel? I can’t believe you’d give
me that chance. I swear – I will never hurt you
again.”

A small glint in his eye warned her a moment
before he leaned forward to whisper in her ear.
“Okay, so I have this restaurant in New York called
Yeti. Maybe you’d like to see it one day – after all,
we seem to have a special connection in… dining
rooms.”

A shiver of desire slipped down her spine.

Then she grasped his hands and placed them over
her belly.

“God, Rachel, we’re going to be parents. You have
so much to tell me. But first, I need to just hold
you. Just for a moment – until I know you’re real
again.”

She chuckled at his abrupt turn-around, from sexual
dining room references, to babies and cuddling.
“You’re incorrigible,” she breathed.

“You bring out the best in me,” he replied, brushing
his lips over her cheek.

Rachel tilted her head to catch his mouth with hers.

For the first time since meeting him, there was a
certain freedom to the happiness she was feeling.
No reservations, no suspicions. She realized that
she had always felt that something was “off” in
their early days. The nagging sense of caution had
weighed down their romance a touch – not enough
to halt it, just enough that a tiny piece of her was
always a little skeptical.

Now she felt that piece lifting away, and the
lightness and sense of fulfillment was…exquisite.
The feel of his skin against hers felt exactly as it
should, not clouded by doubt or worry, and Rachel
knew she was finally home, in Damien’s arms.

“I

E P I L O G UE

really think I should stay at the
hotel,” Damien insisted. “Luke’s
been just waiting for a chance to

start a fight with me for months.” He sighed
dramatically. “And I’d feel real bad if I hit your
brother.”

“He’s not going to hit you,” Rachel groaned and
rolled her eyes. They both knew that Luke’s
professional MMA fighter status would mean that
Remy would be lucky if he got a shot in - if the
anticipated fight ever actually happened. “Just trust
me. Anyway, we need to tell them we eloped
sooner or later.”

“Let’s say later,” Damien suggested as she blew
him a quick kiss before she exited the car. “Let’s
not give him another reason to kill me.”

“You’re the father of his nephew,” Rachel
reminded him. “He’s not going to deck you in front
of Jayden. Is he, little man?” she said, cooing to the
infant.

“Anyway, the family meeting is being hosted by
Olive, who doesn’t seem to despise you nearly as
much as everyone else,” Rachel continued with a
grin.

“Olive doesn’t count—she’s not really family yet.”

“I wonder when those two are finally going to tie
the knot?” Rachel said. She knocked on the door to
the loft and instantly, Olive’s head poked out, her
eyes glittering with excitement.

“Finally!” she said. “Get in here. Hi, my sweet,
sweet baby!”

She kissed Jayden on top of his head and ushered
the couple inside where Luke and Meredith were
already seated in the living room.

“Sorry. Our flight got delayed because of the
weather,” Rachel explained.

There was a murmur of “hellos” as Luke stood to
hug Rachel and the baby. He deliberately snubbed
Damien, of course.

“You’re going to have to stop with this shit,”

Rachel muttered to her brother, but Luke didn’t
respond. The two men had not warmed up to each
other in the least, although Rachel was pretty sure
it was all just becoming an act for both of them.

“Sit down,” Olive encouraged. “We have
something to tell everyone.”

“You’re pregnant!” Meredith cried excitedly,
clapping her hands together. The noise startled
Jayden, who began to cry.

“Oh! Sorry!” Mer apologized, reaching for the child
to soothe him. “Sorry, cutie. Shh. Auntie Mer was
just too excited that she’s going to be an auntie
again! Well, an honorary one, at least.”

Rachel turned to Olive.

“Are you pregnant?” she squealed, instantly happy
for the pair.

Jayden would have a friend close in age—

“I’m not pregnant,” Olive groaned. “Why does
everyone want to put a baby in my womb?”

“What’s this about then?” Luke asked, a note of
confusion in his voice.

“We’ve finally set the date ... we’re getting married
this Christmas!” Olive exclaimed, reaching for
Remy’s hand. He pulled her into an embrace,

surprising all of them by how tender it was.

“Oh, how wonderful! A Christmas wedding will be
beautiful. Congratulations to you both.” Rachel
exclaimed. “Imagine that ...” she trailed off
meaningfully, looking around at her closest family
and friends before she continued.

“Who would have thought we’d all be hitched by
the time next year comes along.” She reached out
to Damien, who just grinned at her, shaking his
head, knowing she couldn’t pass up this opening to
finally announce their elopement.

“What are you talking about, Rach?” Luke and
Remy growled, nearly in unison. “Don’t tell us you
two have set a date, too?”

“Nope ... we’ve already signed the papers. We
eloped right after Jayden was born!” Rachel
explained proudly, not at all alarmed by the fact
that all of them, excluding Damien, were staring at
her, as if she had suddenly sprouted a second head.
The silence in the room was deafening.

Luke was the first to rise and come straight toward
Damien.

“Luke ...” both Meredith and Rachel spoke his
name in unison and with the same intonation of
warning.

“What? I figured I would be the first to
congratulate my nephew’s father for FINALLY
getting his head out of his ass. It sure took him long
enough.”

And with that insult, the silence was finally broken,
the air filling with shouts of congratulations and
well wishes.

Each couple had learned tough lessons, some by
getting hit with them harder than others. And they
knew that these siblings and friends were always
going to be there for each other.

F O R A P R E V I E W O F L UK E ’ S

S T O R Y , C H E C K O UT R E V E N G E

UN L E A S H E D

“Sweetheart, do I look like I scare easily?” he
growled, his bemusement gone. “I served in the

army for five years—in the action. I’m an MMA
fighter. You might want to take a different approach
if you’re trying to come at me.”

Meredith cocked her head to the side.

“Fear comes in many forms, Mr. Vaughan,” she
replied quietly. “It doesn’t matter how physically
strong one might be, everyone has their
weaknesses. Any good comic book will tell you
that.”

His lips parted for a moment and Meredith was
suddenly worried she had gone too far.

Screw it , she thought, might as keep going. In for
a penny, and all that crap…

“You graduated suma cum laude from University of
Michigan. You’ve been groomed to take over your
father’s company. Isn’t that why you went to one
of the best business schools in the country?” she
asked quickly, trying to change the subject.

“You think you know me so well, don’t you, Ms.
Maddox.” The scorn in his voice changed the
sentence from a question, to a sarcastic statement.
It took her aback and she just barely stopped
herself from replying snidely. He was a conundrum
of opposing emotions beneath a stark, composed
exterior. It was no wonder that his presence

couldn’t quite be captured in a photograph.

“I didn’t come here to fight with you, Mr.
Vaughan,” she told him softly.

He scoffed and sat back, the glimmer of anger
fading from his eyes.

“Then you might want to start calling me Luke and
not ‘Mr. Vaughan.’ I despise that name.”

“Luke,” she agreed.

Understanding how he felt about his father might
come in handy later.

“Call me Meredith.”

Begrudgingly, he nodded and Mer smiled at him.

“Let me try this again,” she offered. “I don’t know
what my father said to you to turn you off of the
idea of taking over the company which your father
left you, but I want to explain some of the more
humane aspects of what’s at stake here.”

“And what makes you think I give a shit?” Luke
asked conversationally, finally flopping back
comfortably. He folded his arms over his chest,
drawing Meredith’s eyes toward his hard pecs.

Stop it! It’s not like I can run my tongue over those
right now. But if I did, would it shock him? Or

would he just guide my head down along the ridges
of—

“That’s what I thought,” Luke snorted and
Meredith realized with great humiliation that she
had been gawking at him without answering.

“You don’t care about your father’s company? I
mean, it was something you had all around you
growing up, something—”

“Meredith, you’re beginning to remind me of your
father,” Luke barked at her. “Did you come here to
say something different or—”

“Did my father tell you what would happen if the
company dissolves?”

“Oh no! You mean I won’t get my mitts on the
billions that Carter squirreled away? That sounds
awful. If only I had learned some way to take care
of myself without his help all these years!”

Meredith almost smiled at the mock horror in his
tone, as she looked around the elegantly decorated
living room.

“You don’t seem to be failing, Luke, but surely you
can always do better. I know you live for a
challenge.”

“Lady, you really are not coming at me the right

way,” Luke growled and Meredith realized he
wasn’t lying.

I need to change tactics. I need to disarm him, but
how? He’s so fucking hostile.

“Forget about your money,” she said quickly.
“Maybe you don’t care about that, but what about
the thousands of people who are going to lose their
jobs when the company gets dissolved, Luke?”

“Not my problem. Maybe they shouldn’t have
worked for such an unholy bastard.”

Meredith scoffed.

“Really? You think that people who need jobs are
busy investigating the CEO of the company they
work for? Seriously? Did you thoroughly
investigate the US Army when you took a job with
them because, have I got news for you—”

“Enough!” Luke barked, his jaw clenching hard,
and Meredith saw that she had struck a nerve,
pointing out his callous statement.

“Thousands of people are going to be displaced,
Luke,” she told him simply. “I don’t know what the
beef was with you and your father, but he’s gone
now. Whatever the bad blood was about, it
shouldn’t affect the employees and family members
who have nothing to do with this feud.”

Luke was quiet for a long moment, staring at her
almost accusingly for several seconds.

I’m getting through to him. I did it! Without
seducing him! Her libido started to write a letter of
complaint, but inside her mind, she was proud that
she was making headway on her own...wasn’t she?

She was growing hotter and hotter under her
clothes, each glare he administered making
Meredith want to feel his strong body over hers,
pinning her down.

Breathe. Focus on your breathing before you
orgasm right in front of him.

“Your five minutes are up.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she stared at
him in shock.

“What?”

“Your time is up,” he told her flatly, rising from his
place on the sofa. He extended an arm for her to go
and she gaped at him, unmoving.

“You’re not going to consider it even?” she asked
in disbelief. “You don’t care about those people?”

He sauntered toward her and paused, towering over
her to cast a shadow on her curvy frame.

“I care about my people,” he spat. “That’s why I
make efforts to take care of my people. If Carter
couldn’t be bothered to take care of his own, why
should I have to clean up his mess?”

The bitterness in his tone pierced through her and
regret flooded her body as she slowly stood. She
couldn’t be sure if it was his nearness or the
devastating blow that he had delivered, but
suddenly, Meredith was finding it difficult to focus.

“I’m going to leave my card,” she mumbled, defeat
sweeping through her as she reached into her Prada
handbag and scrawled her cell on the back of her
business card. “You can call me any time if you
change your mind.”

“I won’t,” he assured her, turning away. But before
he could move, she reached out to grab him,
pressing the card against his palm.

He flinched as if she had struck him and started
back, dropping the card on the floor.

“I-I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I-I was just giving
you my card.”

“You should go,” he told her flatly, stalking away
quickly and leaving Meredith no choice but to
follow him.

She paused to pick up the card off the floor and

leave in on the coffee table. When she caught up
with him in the foyer, he was standing at the door
with it open, his eyes fixed on her.

That’s it? That can’t be it!

But Luke didn’t say another word as Meredith
walked toward him and she was at a loss for
something to say.

“Luke—” she started to say, an apology ready to
spring from her lips. She couldn’t be sure why she
felt like she needed to say sorry.

“Nice meeting you, Meredith,” he told her but he
did not meet her eyes. And then the door closed.

She stood in the hallway, feeling like she had the
female equivalent of blue balls somehow.

REVENGE UNLEASHED

, by Chloe Fischer

A L S O B Y C H L O E F I S C H E R : T H E M A F I A

S E R I E S

Taking My Mafia Princess

Breaking the Law

Taken by the Mafia Boss

And check out Chloe Fischer’s collaboration boxsets with

Jacey Ward.

In the first generation, there are four alpha brothers with

superpowers, separated as children. A soldier, an assassin, a

thief, and the holder of the baddest superpower of all.

To connect with me, you can sign up for my
Readers Club. In the club I notify readers of
upcoming new releases, post contests and
giveaways, and sometimes I vent a wee bit.

Everyone needs an outlet, right? Lol

I also ask for plot advice and new character names.
Every now and then I need suggestions on strong
hero and heroine names. (Thanks to all my readers
who have named their own heroes in my books.)

Readers Club Link

Document Outline

Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
For a Preview of Luke’s story, check out Revenge Unleashed
Also by Chloe Fischer: the Mafia Series
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