contract.
Something hard and hedonistic glittered in his eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched. Her own gaze dropped to the movement. But once there...she couldn’t look away.
His lips were lush, perfect, with a hint of harshness. Not the kind of man who’d be soft and safe in bed. She wanted to press her mouth tight to his and find out. Would he devour her? Nibble and tease? Demand her surrender or leave her drowning in a sensual haze?
She sucked in a sharp breath, the sound exploding into the quiet room. Everyone heard it. They had to, and no doubt knew exactly what it meant...that she’d been waylaid by the pull of Beckett Kayne.
With a satisfied smirk on his face, Kayne dropped back into his chair.
“I am doing the right thing, Ms. Vaughn. I’m acquiring the cutting-edge technology that will take my company worldwide, by any means necessary and open to me. I learned a long time ago—the hard way, I might add—that there are no friends in business. It’s every man, or woman, for himself. This world can be cruel. You were bound to learn that lesson at some point. I’d like to say I’m sorry I had to be involved in the education, but that would be a lie.” His stormy eyes flashed, pinning her in place. “I’ve enjoyed matching wits with you too much to regret the experience.”
From the far end of the table, Deirdre made a small choking sound. Mitch leaned forward, body tense and hands splayed across the table as if he were about to vault over and rip into Kayne.
Alyssa stopped him, curling her fingers around his wrist to hold her business partner in place. Beckett’s gaze dropped to her hand, his eyes narrowing.
His sharp, steady gaze returned to hers, and his voice lowered into a dangerous growl, “Let me assure you, Ms. Vaughn, I always get what I want.”
Alyssa’s lungs seized, stealing her ability to respond. Not that she’d have had much opportunity. Surging to his feet, Beckett Kayne ended the discussion long before she was through, disappearing out the door.
Beside her, Mitch snarled. Deirdre sighed, slumping back into her chair.
And Alyssa just sat there, dumbfounded. Her body was a jumble of useless reactions. Her skin tingled, her heart thumped, her skin flushed with swelling temper. She had no outlet for any of it.
Why did it feel as if he meant to own much more than her company?
3
THE DOOR CLICKED shut behind Kayne. Every molecule of tension left the room right along with him. Apparently that tension had been holding her up, because the second it was gone Alyssa’s body slumped into a boneless mess.
What were they going to do?
There was always her stepmother. Just the thought of the perfectly coiffed, hypercritical, manipulative woman had Alyssa letting out a groan.
Sucking in a hard breath, she let her head drop, not even trying to stop the sharp pain as her skull clunked heavily against the edge of the table. Because that pain was better than the inevitable agony that resulted whenever she ventured into the same zip code as her stepmother, she did it again. And again.
“Jesus, Lys, stop it,” Mitch said beside her, slapping his palm in front of her so she’d hit him instead of the table.
Her forehead smacked into the warmth of his hand and instead of going back for more, she rolled against him. Back and forth, as if shaking her head would allow her to deny everything that was happening and make it all disappear.
With a sigh, Alyssa said, “Deirdre, can you leave us for a bit?”
Pretending wouldn’t help the situation, even if it was tempting to run away and lock herself into the comforting solitude of her workroom. Her computers never yelled or criticized or ignored. They were there when she needed them, uncomplicated and nonjudgmental.
But she was far from the emotionally damaged girl she’d once been. She’d spent years fighting for her self-confidence, to figure out who she was and where she belonged in the world. And she’d be damned if anyone—especially Beckett Kayne—sent her back to that dark, lonely place.
The warmth of Mitch’s hand settled between her shoulder blades. Just...there. As he always was. Not for the first time, she wondered why she couldn’t be attracted to him. But she wasn’t and never would be. With Mitch it had always been easy and comfortable. No tension. He didn’t make her skin tighten with anticipation or her heart flutter with awareness. He was the protective older brother she’d never had and always needed.
“We’ll figure this out, Lys. I promise.”
Twisting her head, she looked up at him, forcing a sad smile to her lips.
Mitch had always been the one shining light when she’d needed it most. Whenever she started to feel so thin and invisible everyone could surely see straight through her, he’d forced her back into existence. He wouldn’t let her disappear into herself.
He’d saved the girl she’d been and given her the space and support she’d needed to become the woman she was. She owed him everything, including whatever it would cost her to fix this mess.
Bridgett, her stepmother, was calculating and ruthless. Alyssa had no idea how her father had never known just how cold his wife could be. No, that wasn’t true. He never knew because Bridgett didn’t want him to see. She was pregnant less than three months after their wedding, and from the moment Mercedes had come into the world Bridgett had made sure her father doted on his youngest child. Spoiled her. Gave her everything, most especially his attention and love.
Alyssa had become a fifth wheel, completely unnecessary and unwanted.
By the time Alyssa hit her teens, Bridgett had convinced her father she was a poor reflection on the Vaughn name and her father’s pristine reputation.
Alyssa couldn’t remember the moment she realized her father despised her. The seed had simply grown until it blossomed into painful understanding. She was a constant reminder of her mother, who’d chosen to run off with a penniless mechanic rather than remain in the opulent world and stifling perfection Alyssa’s father had demanded. Transferring his rage to his daughter had been easy.
He’d never hurt her, at least not physically. It might have been easier if he had. Then maybe someone else would have recognized her pain.
Bridgett had gotten exactly what she wanted—almost all of her husband’s money. When he’d died four years ago he’d left everything to her. Everything except enough for Alyssa to put a nice down payment on her apartment in the Quarter. She never would have been able to afford the mortgage without it.
The irony was that she hadn’t wanted his money. What she’d craved was a father who loved and doted on her the way he obviously cared about Mercedes. But that unfulfilled dream died right along with him.
She could ask Bridgett for the money. Alyssa’s eyes closed on a convulsive gesture of dread. And her stepmother would give it to her just so she could hold it up as evidence of Alyssa’s failure. Her stomach rolled with loathing.
“Don’t even think about it,” Mitch warned, his dark brown eyes flashing. “There’s no way I’m letting you do it.”
“Do what?” she asked listlessly.
