to work. There were many loose strings to be tied before he could leave for a week.
Striding from the gallery, he headed for his Lexus, then drove the inner-city streets back to his company’s headquarters.
His second-in-charge, Macy, greeted him outside his office door, her long brown hair drawn back, starkly emphasizing her sleek features. “Mr. Blakely, I have some good news.”
“Come through.” Damon had first employed Macy for her outstanding business skills. But he’d since discovered her thinking and strategizing was eerily similar to his, making her indispensable.
They walked through and Macy closed the door behind them. Damon rounded the desk, taking off his jacket and letting it hang on the back of his executive chair before sitting.
Macy stepped forward and handed him a report. “We’ve secured another of Travis Blakely’s companies, Melbourne Brewing Limited.”
Damon allowed himself a self-satisfied smile as he skimmed the report. “Good. He doesn’t know about this one, either?”
“No, I bought the loan he’d taken out using MBL as collateral. Another one he’d taken without informing his attorneys.”
Damon let his eyes drift closed to savor the rush. Revenge was oh, so sweet. He couldn’t wait for the day he told his evil excuse for an uncle that he’d bought all his assets out from under him. He’d vowed as a thirteen-year-old—black, blue and bleeding from being “disciplined” by his uncle’s fists—that this would come.
Damon already held the deeds to the old man’s house—again Travis had used it as collateral on a loan to cover a business deal gone wrong. Damon simply bought the company that had given the loan.
Travis’s main mistake had been in growing arrogant, in letting his ego make business moves his bank balance couldn’t match. And Damon had been more than willing to cash in on that slip.
Though, Damon had used other tactics where needed. He’d acquired the mansion’s private gallery in a deal brokered by his man on the inside. Travis thought he was selling two paintings but instead had signed over the entire gallery for a song—all because he’d assigned the task to an employee whose loyalty Damon had bought for an absurdly high price.
He knew Travis was only aware of losing two companies, ones where hostile takeovers had been necessary. And even with those, Damon had covered his tracks well enough by using companies within companies, so the only people who knew he was at the top of the chain were the two people in his office.
He spared his 2IC an approving nod. “Good work. You’ll be getting a bonus.”
Macy barely acknowledged the boon as she slid gracefully into the chair across from his. “That makes twenty-three companies you’ve acquired from Travis.”
He threw the papers onto his desk and loosened his tie, righteous victory filling his chest. “Only five to go.” So close now.
Macy retrieved the report, running a finger down a table of figures as if committing them to memory. “The most well-protected five, including—”
“Including BlakeCorp.” He finished her sentence, stomach clenched. “I have a backup plan. You got my memo that I’ll be out of the office next week?”
Macy nodded. “Do you need me to accompany you?”
“Not this time. I need you here, running things. I’ll be unavailable some of the time—it’s not strictly company business.” A vision with silver-blond hair rose unbidden and he allowed himself a moment of appreciation before tamping down on it.
Macy arched a brow and he knew what she was thinking. He was never away from the office for anything but work.
He smiled. “Oh, I’ll be working on our objectives—I’ll be putting plan B into place in case we don’t get the last five companies in time.”
Macy’s eyebrows drew together creating a tiny frown line between them. “I know I’ve said this before, but I’m not confident we’ll be able to get those last five. Especially BlakeCorp.”
Deep down, neither was Damon. In fact, the task was close to impossible. But he wouldn’t stop before he owned it all. His pride demanded he take everything away from the uncle who’d treated a small child so shamefully, who hadn’t honored his dead brother’s wishes. That included Travis Blakely’s portfolio of assets, every last coin of his cash reserves, his home, his reputation … everything. He didn’t want to merely win, he wanted to see Travis destroyed, utterly and completely.
He sank back into his chair, seeing Lily’s delicate beauty again in his mind. Her pure heart could never understand his black motives in his campaign against Travis. Wouldn’t understand the darkness that lived inside him every waking moment.
But now that Lily was pregnant with his child, by God he’d make it a real marriage.
Everyone wore masks of one type or another. He just had to ensure his stayed firmly in place.
Three
Three days later, Lily watched from her kitchen window, a bowl of fruit salad in her hand, as Damon pulled his Lexus to the curb in front of her rented house.
He slid out and her breath caught. His khaki pants and moss-green polo shirt should have looked casual, but with the pants’ crisp crease down the front and the shirt tucked in above a simple belt that had probably cost the equivalent to a month of her wages, he somehow appeared ready to lead a board meeting. Or seduce a woman.
She almost choked on her strawberry as the thought took hold and irresistible desire stole over her. The familiar luscious heat started low in her belly.
Determined not to lose control of her body, she carefully set down the bowl and gripped the edges of the sink. She would not get distracted by something as counterproductive as sexual attraction. To do the best for her baby she needed to be focused—and she would be.
She glanced out the window again and watched as Damon, folded papers in one hand, set his keyless lock and strode to her front door.
Lily took a deep breath and dried her hands to let him in. But instead of pressing the buzzer, he took out the key she’d given him while they’d dated and let himself in. Her heart twisted at the familiarity of the action, for the memories of naive happiness it evoked.
She’d asked for that key back; he’d told her he’d get around to it, but she’d known he had no intention. She guessed his reasons had something to do with a bruised sense of entitlement. She’d had every intention of changing the lock. Then she’d suspected she was pregnant, one of her assistants on the Impressionist exhibition was reassigned, and then. Well, then Travis had fallen ill and Damon had asked her to marry him.
“Lily, it’s me,” he called from the hall.
“I’m in the kitchen,” she called back, picking up her bowl again and perching on a kitchen stool, elbows resting on the polished wood counter. He could see himself through the house—she didn’t want to seem too eager and reinforce his view of their relationship.
Damon appeared in the doorway and propped one shoulder against the frame, his casual pose belying the heat in his eyes. Every cell and molecule in her body
