The Billionaire's Ruthless Revenge Read online

  Table of Contents

  Billionaire draft

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  EPILOGUE

  THE END

  PROLOGUE

  NEW YORK

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE BILLIONAIRE’S RUTHLESS REVENGE

  Clare Connelly

  All the characters in this book are fictitious and have no existence outside the author’s imagination. They have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names and are pure invention.

  All rights reserved. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reprinted by any means without permission of the Author.

  The illustration on the cover of this book features model/s and bears no relation to the characters described within.

  First published 2016

  (c) Clare Connelly

  Photo Credit: dollarphotoclub.com/gstockphoto

  Contact Clare:

  http://www.clareconnelly.co.uk

  Blog: http://clarewriteslove.wordpress.com/

  Email: [email protected]

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  Join Clare’s Newsletter to stay up to date on all the latest CC news. http://www.clareconnelly.com

  “Your attitude’s appalling, got it, boy?”

  At five years old, Kyle hadn’t yet learned to box away harsh criticisms. He felt them keenly.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered, his face grubby and stained by tears.

  “Sorry? Not as sorry as you will be. Get in the library.”

  The library? Barely. A couple of weakened timber shelves that housed an assortment of books and magazines was hardly worth such a grandiose title.

  “The library? Why?”

  “Why? Are you back-chatting?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Yes, sir,” he criticised. “Get in there now and you might escape a whipping. If you’re lucky.”

  Kyle sobbed.

  “Naw, stop your howling. I ain’t got no patience for it tonight.”

  Kyle couldn’t stop though. Only a hand thumped against his small, bony back, knocked the breath out of him so that he could no longer cry.

  Gradually Kyle would learn that crying – no, feeling – served very little purpose at all.

  PROLOGUE

  “You’re actually asking me for a favour?” The words were loaded with his unique brand of arrogant mockery. “You walked out of our marriage without so much as even the appearance of an explanation and now you come to me for help?”

  Her delicate throat knotted visibly as she swallowed.

  “For six months you have been gone. The only way I even knew you were alive was when the divorce papers landed on my desk.”

  “I know.” Meeting his eyes was almost impossible.

  “Not even the courtesy of a call to tell me you’d met with a lawyer?”

  “I ...”

  “You walked out on our marriage and disappeared into this air, and now you want my help?”

  Anxiety perforated her being. “It’s not like I was hiding from you,” she said shakily. “You could have come to me.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “When you’d made it so obvious you detested me?”

  She instinctively railed against the description. She had never detested him. She had despaired for what they’d become; for what they were capable of doing to one another, but that was a far cry from detestation.

  Yet what did it matter? The mess of their relationship was not at issue. Far too much water was under the bridge – most of it a result of her tears. A desire to rekindle their disastrous marriage wasn’t why she was standing in his office, pleading with him to intervene. “I wouldn’t have come to you today if it weren’t important.” She dug her nails into her palms until the pain eclipsed the other emotions that were swamping her.

  “I see.” His handsome face darkened as he compressed his lips into a line of impatience. “Then get to the point, Annabelle. I have a meeting.”

  Of course he did. When did he not?

  Kyle Anderson hadn’t made his millions by sitting around idly. Every minute of his day was turned to good use. She knew from experience that he slept only the bare minimum each night, cramming his life with work, exercise and the glamorous social life that had proven to her, night after night, how little she belonged in his life.

  She turned away from him slowly to shield the violet eyes he had always found far too easy to read. This office was amongst her least favourite places in the world. It was where she’d last seen him, she thought painfully, subconsciously moving to the same space she’d occupied on that hateful night. It had been warm then, and the sun still high in the sky despite the lateness of the hour. Manhattan had been sweltering in the midst of an August heatwave and Annie had still believed in love, and love’s innate goodness.

  Six months later, even in the early evening, the sky was a gloomy black. Were her mood less severe she might have found something to admire in the twinkling lights far beneath them, and the streaks of warmth created by the cars hurtling to their destinations. But the beauty of the winter-scene barely registered on her fraught mind.

  “Well, Annie?” He drawled, his voice coming to her as if from a long way away. She steeled herself to be strong. This would all be over soon enough.

  “It’s Adam.” She turned around, her eyes not meeting his. She didn’t need to look at her husband to know how he’d react. Her brother had been a constant source of friction between them.

  “Go on.” He adjusted his frame in the executive chair, unwittingly drawing her gaze to his broad shoulders and immaculate suit.

  The memories were powerful. They seemed to sledge into her as if an actual force. The way he would smell if she stepped close enough to him – like the forest and freshly lopped pine trees. The way the suit would feel, smooth and cool. The shirt would be crisp, courtesy of the little drycleaners one block over that his assistant Maria faithfully took his wardrobe to each week. Annie had offered to do it for him but he’d laughed, and said he had far better uses for her energies and talents.

  At the time, she’d actually been flattered by the throwaway comment, as though it spoke of a desire that couldn’t be quenched. Now she saw it for what it had really been: yet another barrier to stop her from becoming an important part of his life. A line in the sand that she was not allowed to cross.

  There was His World. And there was Annie’s world. She had rolled out the red carpet for him, willing him to become a part of all that mattered most to her. And he had kept her at the distance he kept everyone at.

  “Get to the point, Annie. I don’t have time to sit and wait for you to unburden yourself.” He crossed one ankle over his knee, appearing as nonchalant and relaxed as ever. How she hated that about him! How could he feel so at ease when they hadn’t been in the same room for such a very long time? The answer was, of course, part of the problem. The billionaire tycoon was damaged goods, determined not to feel anything, ever. Except he did feel. She knew he did. He was just insanely adroit at keeping those emotions buried deep, deep down inside of his core.

  “You made this appointment. You insisted to Maria that it was urgent. And yet you have spent the last ten minutes wearing a hole into the floor.”

  “You’re making it hard,” she grimaced wearily, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself.

  “I am simply sitting here asking you to speak. What about that is o
ffensive to you?”

  It wasn’t him, of course, so much as ... him. Who he was to her. Who he would always be. The first man she’d loved. The first man she’d slept with. The only man she ever intended to marry. The man who had married Annie simply to acquire her into his life, rather than to incorporate her as a partner. She’d had a long time to think in the six months they’d been separated and two things had remained resoundingly clear: she had been right to marry him, for she had loved him deeply. And she had been right to leave him.

  On legs that trembled, she moved to the desk and sat gingerly in one of the seats opposite him. Her hands she clasped in her lap so that their shaking would be less visible to his all-too-perceptive gaze.

  Only Kyle’s gaze was perceptive. The minute Annie had arrived at his office in the sky, he’d had to rail against making an audible sound of shock. She’d changed so much in only six months. Annie had never been curvaceous but now she was so slim he was surprised she could stand. Her eyes were hollow and despite the excellently applied makeup her complexion was pale.

  He had teased her, during their marriage, for the way she would dress to the nines even for nights spent at home. Her clothes had, unfailingly, been the last word in sophistication – though that hadn’t changed. The black dress she was wearing, teamed with a gold choker and patent leather stilettos was a look that was both chic and sexy ... but this woman wasn’t Annie. Where had her breasts gone? Her hips?

  “Please stop staring at me like that,” she whispered, her eyes beseechingly fixed to his. “I’m trying to do this as quickly as I can.”

  He made an impatient noise and cast a glance at his wristwatch. “I could have read Anna Karenina twice by now and we both know how I loathe Tolstoy.”

  Annie dipped her head forward to hide her hurt. She had never been his match, not in any way. Least of all intellectually. “Adam’s in trouble. He’s done something really bad. And I need your help.”

  Kyle was careful not to give anything away. Annie’s twin brother was as dishonest as he was brilliant, but he was also the reason Kyle had met Annie. It was his saving grace, and the sole reason Kyle had allowed Adam to stay on in one of the businesses he owned.

  “How so?”

  “You know Adam.” She forced herself to meet his eyes. They were scathing. She shivered. How could love just combust as theirs had?

  “Yes.” A single word that conveyed true disdain. She ignored it; rather, she allowed it. Her husband had every reason to think ill of Adam.

  “He’s gone too far this time. I think he’s involved in something really bad.”

  “Really bad?” Kyle mocked her phrasing, arching his brows in a way that made Annie feel about two inches tall. In contrast, his own words were business-like. “Get to the point. What is it you believe he has done?”

  She swallowed. Though the room was kept at a perfectly civilised temperature all year round, she was flush with heat. Adrenalin was shooting through her. “As in ... illegal.” She squeezed her eyes shut and then shook her head. Saying it aloud made it so much more real and horrifying. “I’m not sure. I mean, he’s really clever and I have no doubt he’d be great at covering his tracks.”

  Not as great as Annie believed, Kyle thought sardonically.

  “So why do you think he’s involved in something illegal, Annie?”

  She bit down on her lip. “Because he’s ...” She shook her head. “I’m probably being stupid.”

  “For God’s sake, would you just spit it out?”

  The harsh invective startled her. Hurt flashed in her expression. “I’m trying, Kyle.”

  He stared at the hypnotic racing of her pulse, visible beneath the fine pale flesh at the base of her neck.

  His face was grim, a reflection of how he felt in that moment. “Try harder.”

  She’d asked for this, Annie supposed. She’d turned the love they’d felt into this maelstrom of anger and resentment. “He’s ...”

  A sharp bleeting interrupted her already hesitant sentence. Kyle’s direct stare didn’t falter but Annie’s eyes dropped to the phone. “You can answer,” she said quickly, her words tripping over themselves.

  “Gee, thanks.” He snapped the phone off the cradle and pressed it to his ear, his eyes still locked to her face. “I’ve been detained.” A look of derision and then a curt nod. “Fine. Two minutes.” He slammed the phone back into place and stood in one motion.

  “My meeting can’t wait.” But you can. The words sat between them like an electrically charged accusation.

  Annie nodded even though he hadn’t asked a question. “That’s fine.”

  Her rapid acquiescence angered him. She was his wife. True, she’d deserted him, left their marriage, and sued for a divorce. But he hadn’t granted it. He hadn’t so much as acknowledged the divorce papers.

  She should have been demanding he listen to her.

  She should have demanded so much more of him.

  But as usual, Annie simple crumpled into line with his objectives.

  “Maria will bring you tea.” The kindness surprised them both. He slipped his cell phone into his pocket then fixed her with one final look. He fought the urge to ask her to wait for him.

  Because he knew she would.

  CHAPTER ONE

  He fumed.

  He smouldered.

  He thundered.

  Bloody Annie and her devotion to that idiotic brother of hers. It was her blindspot and her downfall.

  It was the reason they’d met. Perhaps even the reason she’d married him. And it was certainly the reason she was there now.

  Adam.

  The computer genius who just happened to lack a decent bone in his body.

  So why was Annie so determined to clean up his mess again and again?

  Because they were family, his inner monologue pointed out. Family. The perpetual mystery to Kyle Anderson, for he had none. He’d passed from foster home to foster home until he was sixteen and he’d successfully petitioned the courts to grant him control of his own destiny.

  The ties of twins was particularly confusing. It was a closeness that defied reason.

  “The Aspen hotel is underperforming for the second quarter,” he remarked, having been paying moderate attention to the conversation. “But that’s hardly a reason to panic.”

  “It isn’t?” Lucas frowned at Kyle. The two men were more than just friends, and more than staff. For nine months they’d shared the same foster home in Detroit. It had been one of the more harrowing homes that had taken Kyle in, and he had felt an instant kinship for Lucas. Kyle had stood up for him whenever he’d needed to, even if the penalties for such disobedience were far worse for the bigger, older Kyle. “The figures are ...”

  “Abysmal.” Kyle shrugged his shoulders, his eyes showing some of his emotional distraction. The room was filled with suits. Men and women who had earned their position at the table by working impossibly long hours to grow Kyle’s businesses. “But they’ll improve.” He scanned the figures with the precision that had made him famous. “Have the manager flown in to meet with me, Luc.”

  He paused, his finger half way down the column of information. “No. I’ll go there. Have The Kennedy Suite reserved.”

  “Sure.” Luc nodded, familiar enough with Kyle’s ways not to flinch at the unusual direction.

  Was she drinking tea and calming down? Or were her nerves still wound tighter than a spring?

  Kyle kept his mind focussed on the current meeting with his legendary determination. But his body was elsewhere. In the past? Or three floors up, in his office.

  What did she want him to do?

  Adam had embezzled a phenomenal sum, and in the most insanely brilliant way. By skimming dollars and cents off tens of thousands of employees pay checks each week he’d amassed an incredible fortune in a very short time. It was criminal, and it was entirely traceable, and he’d already be in prison if Kyle hadn’t had his accounts team ensure each staff member affected was compensated accordi
ngly.

  Had he done that for her?

  Undoubtedly.

  He was furious with his wife for leaving him, and especially for leaving him without explanation.

  But seeing her brother in prison would be devastating to Annie and embarrassing to Kyle. Further, it would serve little purpose.

  “We’re finished here.” He stood by way of dismissal but waited a moment for any of the assembled staff to raise a further issue. No one did, and so Kyle spun on his heel and left without a backwards glance.

  “Hey! Wait up, bro.” Luc caught him at the entrance to the elevator. Kyle’s face was a study of impatience.

  “What is it?” He asked, casting a glance at his wristwatch for good measure.

  Luc had worked for Kyle for five years, since he’d moved to Manhattan in need of a new start. And in that time, he’d come to understand Kyle better than almost anyone else.

  “You’re jumpier than a jack in the box. It’s not the hotel in Aspen ...”

  “No,” Kyle agreed sharply.

  “So?”

  He expelled an angry breath. “Annabelle’s back.”

  Luc’s thick brows shot up in the air. “She is? Where?”

  “In my office.”

  Luc ran a hand across his stubbled jaw and let out a low-whistle. “Let me guess. She wants to save her brother’s bacon.”

  “Something like that,” Kyle nodded.

  “So you haven’t seen her in six months and now she’s come running to you for help?”

  Kyle had thought exactly he same thing, the ungenerous assessment only natural in the circumstances. Yet the characterisation from his friend rankled. “I’d rather she came to me for help than not.”

  “But still.” Luc’s shoulders lifted in a silent continuation of the sentence. “What are you going to do?”

  Kyle’s smile was devoid of pleasure. “I don’t have a clue.” His eyes knit together. “I just know I can’t let her go again.”

  “Bro, you can’t make her stay married to you,” Luc laughed, presuming Kyle was making one of his deadpan jokes.

  Only Kyle’s expression was completely serious. “She’s my wife.”