The Billionaire's Forbidden Desire (22 page)

Dane glanced at the address. His heartbeat skittered.

Benjamin Clark.

Damn. That was fast.

Sweat dampened Dane’s hands, but he gave Sophia a smile. “I need to review this.”

He made a left turn to the family room with a few plushy armchairs and couches. After closing the door to make sure he was alone, he took a seat and ripped the envelope open. A slim report fell out.

This was it. The moment of truth.

He read it, his stomach in knots. The summary memo was succinct and to the point as usual.

November Seventh. Dane clenched his teeth at the date seven years past.

His Lamborghini had crashed into a taxi on its way to Charles de Gaulle airport. The other driver’s identity was unknown. The Paris police didn’t have a detailed record of the incident. All parties had settled amicably, or so the police claimed. The settlement amount was also unknown, but it had to have been significant. The cabbie had cut back on his hours after the accident, but was apparently still able to maintain his lifestyle.

The hospital that had treated the other driver had stated that in addition to the cabbie, there had been a young American woman. No name. She’d had injuries to her hip and dislocated a shoulder. The cab driver had suffered some trauma, although it wasn’t specified.

A chill spread over Dane as he recalled what Sophia had said. Her shoulder wasn’t normal anymore, and her hip had been injured. And those injuries were the reason her career had been cut short…seven years ago.

The hospital didn’t have any patient info beyond that. The woman had elected to go to a medical facility in America for surgery. The hospital didn’t know which one, and Benjamin had hit a dead end.

The same Parisian hospital had treated Dane as well, but he’d been in a different part of the building. A couple of days before the American woman’s release, he’d been moved to Italy at his grandmother’s request, to be treated by a private physician there. His records had gone with him.

The Italian physician had died two years ago, and his practice had been sold soon after. The new office didn’t have records for former patients.

Hands shaking, Dane shoved the file back into the envelope. He pulled up his phone and googled Sophia Reed. The Wikipedia entry should have the information about her competitive history. There it was. The final competition—The Trophée Éric Bompard. He clicked on it. His stomach dropped.

It had ended on November Seventh. Seven years ago.

Impossible that this was a coincidence.

Unable to sit still, he jumped to his feet and called Benjamin. The PI answered on the second ring.

“Got my report?” he said, voice as flat as usual.

“Yes. How much time would it take for you to find out about the American woman?”

“Maybe forever. The only reason I was able to dig up as much as I did was because I had the information you gave me. It’s not just the other driver. The police didn’t have your information either. So if the cabbie wants to find out who you are to squeeze more money out of you, he’s shit outta luck. Somebody didn’t want the details of the accident becoming public.”

“I see. Thanks.” Dane hung up.

It wasn’t fear of some cab driver demanding more that had made his family erase the trail.

Dane thought back.

He’d been moved to Italy soon after the doctors in Paris had declared he was well enough to travel. Shirley hadn’t wanted him in France.

“The lawyers will take care of everything,” she’d said.

Five fucking million bucks could take care of a lot of things.

What could’ve made Shirley and Salazar go to this extreme length to ensure secrecy?

Clutching the report, Dane went into the hall. “Al!”

The butler appeared like a ghost. “Sir?”

“Where’s my father?”

“In his study.”

Of course. Dane rushed up the stairs, thinking of all the things he should say. He didn’t want to betray himself, but the emotions churning inside him were too raw.

Without bothering to knock, he slammed the door open and walked inside the study.

Salazar was sipping scotch in a custom-tailored Italian shirt and slacks, while reading some documents. At the interruption, he put down the papers and looked at Dane. “You know, in my day people knew how to kno—”

“Whose idea was it to authorize the five million dollar settlement for my Paris accident?”

Something flickered in Salazar’s gaze. “The Paris thing? Who said we paid that kind of money—?”

“Shirley.”

“Oh.” He shrugged. “Well, it was Shirley’s call and I agreed. What about it?”

“Why did you offer so much?”

“Didn’t want to make Americans look bad. The French already think we’re assholes.”

Dane clenched his hands. Benjamin’s report crumpled in his grip. “You don’t give a fuck about anyone. I’ll ask again. Why?”

Salazar sat back with a sigh. “Because it was necessary.”

“Who was the other party?”

“A taxi driver.” Salazar rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

“He had a passenger.”

“And? Why are you so curious about this all of a sudden? The money didn’t even come out of your bank account. You should be grateful that I took care of it.”

“Stop evading.” Dane gathered himself. He couldn’t unravel in front of Salazar. His father would enjoy the display too much. “Was it… Was it Sophia?”

Salazar met Dane’s gaze levelly, then snorted out a laugh. “Sophia? Who told you that?”

“Henry,” Dane lied.

The mirth vanished from Salazar’s face. “Son of a bitch. He was supposed to keep his mouth shut.”

Dane’s chest hurt like a spear had gone through it. He’d hoped…he’d wished Shirley had been mistaken about the five million dollar payment. But this was far worse. Sophia had had to give up her dream…because of him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dane’s voice shook.

“What the fuck’s wrong with
me?
I’m not the one who plowed two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of car into a taxi.”

“You thought five million would be enough?”

“Of course not! No Olympic gold medal’s worth a mere five million, not to the athlete.” Salazar sneered. “What? You didn’t know she was favored to win? The girl was a machine, undefeated for eight competitions in a row.”

Blood was rushing to his head, and Dane had to blink to clear the spots in his vision. Sophia had downplayed her accomplishments. He had no idea she’d been that good.

Salazar got up. “I did what was necessary, since you were a reckless idiot. What do you think Betsy would’ve done if she learned that my first-born had crippled her precious girl? She’d’ve held it over Geraldine, and your aunt suffered enough on that bitch’s account.”

“You don’t even like Geraldine.”

“What I like is irrelevant. It’s what your grandmother wanted.”

“You’re lying! She would’ve never—”

“She would’ve done anything in her power to protect Geraldine! She was her favorite anyway. Rick and I had a discussion through our attorneys, and he was more than happy with five million bucks because the money was going to help him stay afloat. He didn’t give a fuck about his daughter.”

Bile rose, and Dane breathed harshly through his nose. “You knew all that and you were still going to make her your mistress?”

“Who said anything about her being my mistress?” Salazar gestured violently with his hands. “I’m not interested in her that way.”

“Then what? You took her in—”

“She asked for a place to stay!”

“—flaunted her in my face. What was your plan then?”

“I’m going to marry her.”

Dane stared at his father, feeling like somebody had just delivered a kick to his head. “
Are you out of your mind?
”

Salazar gave him a dangerous smile. “No, not just yet. Sophia isn’t the type to take my money. I already considered offering her some. But marriage….that would be different. Respectable. I’m old, and I’ll probably die soon enough. That would leave her young and oh so rich. Unlike Rick, I’ve been judicious with my investments.” Salazar placed both fists on his desk and leaned forward. “She’ll be a
Pryce
, not that loser Rick’s daughter. The name, even if she marries into it, will open a lot of doors for her. Especially combined with wealth, youth and beauty.”

“That’s your brilliant plan?” Dane was shaking so hard, he could barely get the words out. “How can you even
attempt
to say that you’re doing it for her?”

“My plan’s a hell of a lot better than yours. What are you going to do for her? Keep her in that dead-end job that pays like shit? Buy her things until you get bored of fucking her?” Salazar laughed. “Or are you going to marry her, now that you know? Do the
honorable
thing? That might work…except who’s going to believe that
you
, Dane Pryce, Mr. Permafrost, Mr. Emotional Glacier, would be capable of caring enough for a woman to actually want to marry her?

“And when Sophia learns the truth—and she probably will, because the truth has a way of coming out—she’ll hate you forever. Then
you
can see what it’s like to go through the divorce of the century.” He took a swig of scotch. “Hopefully, I’ll be dead before that happens.”

Dane clenched his hands, but still he couldn’t stop the tremors running through him. Jesus. Fuck.
Fuck!
“I’d call you a son of a bitch, but that would be demeaning to your mother.”

“Call me whatever makes you feel better. I’m not the one who shattered a young girl’s lifelong dream trying to make a light!” Salazar spread his arms, then chugged down the rest of his scotch.

Dane’s nails dug into his palms until it hurt. “Shut your fucking mouth! The only reason I haven’t destroyed you is Shirley.”

All the nasty mirth vanished from Salazar’s face. “You already have…the moment you were conceived. It destroyed everything!”

Fury exploded in Dane’s chest. He picked up a white porcelain ballerina and flung at his father. It shattered a foot away from the target. “You should’ve told her to abort me then! If no clinic would do the job, there were wire hangers!”

“Believe me, I regret not doing that every day of my life! If I had, I would’ve been happier, freer, without the woman who never wanted anything but my money. So yes, next time, I’m going to be with a woman I actually want to leave my fucking money to, even if it’s your damn mistake I’m cleaning up!”

The report still clutched in his hand, Dane spun around and left the study. He had to get the hell out before he did something he’d regret. Like murder his own fa—

Sophia was in the hall. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him.

Apprehension slithered down his spine like an icy snake. “How much did you hear?” he asked, his lips barely moving.

“I…” Her throat worked. “Just…some yelling.” But the glassy look in her eyes said she was lying.

He walked past her to Al, who was standing there, his face pale but impassive otherwise.

“Send my things to my penthouse,” Dane said.

“Yes, sir.”

Dane made his way down the stairs, wanting to rip the portraits from the walls, wanting to tear the bannister from the staircase and use it to beat his father to death. He couldn’t stay in this house a moment longer.

“Dane!” Sophia called out. “Wait!”

He didn’t stop. “Don’t come to the office tomorrow,” he yelled over a shoulder and jumped into his car.

The red Lamborghini. There to remind him, to punish him for what he’d done.

Anger bubbled inside
.
It was always there
,
seething in his belly
.

He fucking hated everything
.
He hated life
.
He wished
…

He wished he’d had the guts to kill himself way back when
.

Some idiot eastern philosopher said life was suffering
.
He probably hadn’t had a family like Dane’s
.
If so
,
he would’ve known that some misery was too much to be endured
.

Speed was the only thing that gave Dane any sense of freedom
.
He’d gotten one too many tickets
,
but he didn’t give a damn
.
What good was money if he couldn’t blow it on things that made him feel good?

Traffic in Paris sucked
.
He should’ve just stayed in Germany
,
driving the Autobahn
,
but Shirley had wanted to meet him here
.
She was the only one worth making a trip for
.

He saw the light change
.
If he gunned it
,
he could probably make it
.
Sitting in traffic sucked
,
and he didn’t want to do it any more than he had to
.
He stomped on the accelerator and felt the Lamborghini leap forward
.

Just before he could cross the intersection
,
the light turned red
. Shit.

He couldn’t stop
. Fuck it. Just go.

A taxi was suddenly in the intersection
,
the cabbie hunched forward
,
his eyes focused on the light that had just turned green
.

“
Fuck!
”

His foot smashing the brake
,
Dane twisted the steering wheel so he wouldn’t hit the driver
,
but it was too
—

Metal crunched
.
The impact threw him forward; stars exploded in his vision
.
Something warm and sticky trickled down his face and dripped off his chin
.
Blood
.

He tried to move
.
He didn’t think he was that hurt
,
but his body wouldn’t obey his commands
.
Loud French buzzed around him
.
He blinked as his vision dimmed for a moment
…

Dane drove away, as fast as he could. His petulant lashing out hadn’t just affected him. It affected everything.

Sophia shook. She couldn’t believe how everything was suddenly, horrifically falling apart. Dane had barely glanced at her, and he didn’t want her at the office. What was going on?