Married for the Tycoon's Empire

It was as if a Benjamin Carter–shaped whirlwind had stormed into her life and ripped everything apart, throwing it all in the air, and now Lia wasn’t sure where she fitted any more. Or even who she was.

Reluctantly she got out of the bath, her skin already wrinkling like a prune. Wiping the mirror clear, she sucked in a breath at her pink-cheeked reflection. She almost didn’t recognise herself.

Her hair was tied up and long tendrils clung to her cheeks and forehead. Her eyes were wide and troubled-looking, but also suspiciously dreamy. She could see marks on her pale skin from where Ben had touched her with his mouth or his hands, and it automatically sent a carnal thrill through her blood.

Her hand curled around the edge of the sink, as if that might stop her flying apart when she thought properly of just how comprehensively Ben Carter had seduced her.

After this weekend she couldn’t keep on fooling herself that it was purely physical for her...but what about for Ben?

Just then a knock on the door made her jump. She called out, ‘Yes?’

‘I’m going to run out to that French patisserie we spotted last night—do you want anything?’

Lia’s heart was pounding. ‘Just a croissant, thanks.’

‘Okay—back in ten.’

Lia waited till she heard the faint sound of the main suite door closing and then she emerged and dressed quickly in the jeans and silk shirt that Ben had ordered for her on that first morning-after.

A little desperate now, she tried to count all the mornings-after—and couldn’t. It was as if time had stopped and they were locked in this bubble.

Lia began pacing up and down, trying to calm herself. She couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the fact that perhaps there was more for Ben too. He’d told her so much last night, and his reluctance had revealed that he didn’t usually let people in.

He wasn’t following his usual pattern with lovers, if the gossip was to be believed. Did a man who just wanted a brief fling cross the Atlantic to find out more about a woman?

Against all Lia’s most hardened instincts, she felt a flutter of illicit excitement in her gut. Perhaps...just perhaps...this was more. And perhaps Ben wouldn’t just jet off back to New York. Then something sank inside her. And yet how could it work when they lived on different continents? How could she leave her father?

Her thoughts were racing so much that Lia put her hands to her cheeks and they were hot. A semi-hysterical giddiness rose up inside her. And hope. And a kind of euphoria. She was falling for Ben...

After the weekend they’d just shared, she couldn’t believe that what he felt for her was purely physical...and she couldn’t believe that she was even thinking about risking her worst fears. But right now, with Ben’s taste still on her lips and his touch like a brand on her skin, she felt absurdly confident and a little invincible.

Just then there was a sound at the suite door and Lia went to investigate, finding that a selection of the day’s newspapers had been pushed underneath. Ben must have requested them. Automatically she bent to pick them up, only half taking in the headlines—until one jumped out at her and the rest of the papers dropped to the floor, unnoticed.

American construction tycoon follows construction heiress back to England after million-dollar weekend in Brazil! Can Julianna Ford be the one to tame Ben Carter’s wild ways?

Under the headline was a grainy picture of Ben and Lia, kissing in the street the previous evening. It was just before they’d got into the cab. They hadn’t even noticed. There were also fuzzy shots of them eating dinner. Immediately the memory was tarnished.

Lia felt sick and walked back into the living area and sat on the edge of a chair. It was only to be expected that someone as high-profile as Ben Carter would be tracked and followed, but for Lia, who’d never fallen foul of the tabloids, it was a shock to see her name in print like this.

She kept reading even though she didn’t want to, frowning when she saw another picture that was familiar because she’d seen it before. It was of Ben and the three other tycoons, emerging from that private club in Manhattan some weeks before.

There was renewed speculation as to why the men had met up in Manhattan that night, and if it had something to do with reversing the negative press attention they’d all been receiving. And there was a lewd suggestion that Ben Carter was hoping to swap more than just bodily fluids with Lia, considering her own family background.

Lia thought of her father seeing this paper and barely managed to keep from rushing to the bathroom to be sick. The thought was literally nauseating.

Just then Lia heard a chiming noise and looked to see her mobile phone on a nearby table. Her gut clenched with dread at the thought that it would be her father because he’d seen the article, but she frowned when she saw the name at the top of the text: Dante Mancini. He was the Italian tycoon Ben had been meeting that night in Manhattan, along with Xander Trakas and Sheikh Zayn Al-Ghamdi. Why would he be texting her? And how did he even have her number?

The words of the message jumped out at her.

Have you seen the papers, Carter? Looks like your million-dollar gamble is paying off. You might just beat the rest of us to the altar—

The rest of the message was hidden unless she unlocked the phone, and it was only when she tried to do so and it wouldn’t unlock that the significance of the fact that it was addressed to Ben finally sank in—this wasn’t her phone. It was exactly the same model, but it was Ben’s.

The implication of the message was too confusing and potentially huge to take in at first. Words reverberated in Lia’s head: gamble...altar...beat the rest of us. That picture of them emerging from the club loomed in her mind’s eye now. Almost accusatory.

She recalled her initial meeting with Ben and how suspicious she’d been, and how somehow along the way she’d forgotten about that. Her conscience mocked her. Somehow? Her suspicion had been forgotten in a blaze of heat so intense she still felt scorched.

She looked at that photo again, a sick kind of dread churning in her belly. They all looked so grim and intent.