Page 21 of The Heiress Masquerade (Dollar Princess #2)

He’d intended to reprimand her for her deception, not kiss her until they were both breathless with desire. But when it came to this woman, he was beginning to realize how little control he had over his more base needs whenever she was within reach.

The idea to kiss her again hadn’t been his best to date, but sitting there so close to her on the carriage seat, his thigh brushing her skirts, he hadn’t been able to resist, even though he’d been annoyed out of his mind at the deception she’d pulled on him and was asking him to continue. And she was right, as much as he was loath to admit it. If he told Thomas, he would insist she return to New York immediately, and for some reason Harrison didn’t want her to go.

So give in to the delight and sensations that this woman aroused in him, he did, despite the fact he knew nothing good could come from it. She was Thomas’s only child and no matter how Harrison might want to pretend it wouldn’t matter, as soon as Thomas found out Harrison had compromised his daughter, he’d want to kill him, pseudo-son or not. And his dreams of owning his own company would be dead in the water.

But even that wasn’t enough to stop his mouth slanting over hers, all rational thought fleeing as he tasted and savored the exquisite delight that was her. He’d never wanted anyone more than he wanted this woman, who was kissing him in defiance of everything. She tasted sweet and luscious, and he knew he could taste her for a lifetime and never stop wanting her, such was the spell she’d woven over him.

The thought stopped him cold, and he dragged his lips away from hers. “Damn it, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Why not? Don’t you want to kiss me?”

Of course he did. It was all he’d been able to think about, but the fact he was suddenly considering doing it for a lifetime scared the hell out of him. After his parents died, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t love someone that much again, and he had no intention of going back on his own word to himself. “It has nothing to do with wanting to kiss you or not, and everything to do with this being a bad idea given nothing can come of it. I don’t ever intend to marry or fall in love.”

“Who said anything about those things?” She looked horrified at the thought. “I have no intention of marrying or falling in love, either, so whatever this is between us”—she gestured with her hand between them—“is perfect. We can enjoy kissing each other without any repercussions, and then I’ll return to New York, and we can go on with our lives.”

“It’s not that simple,” he insisted, trying to convince not only her but himself, too.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know…” And for the life of him, right then he couldn’t think of an argument to dissuade her, or himself for that matter.

“Well, I do.” She grabbed his lapels and drew him back to her, her mouth finding his with a vigor that made him willing to do anything she wanted, consequences be damned. His mouth pressed against hers, their lips teasing and tasting each other’s until they were both breathless again.

He pulled slightly back from her, staring down at her red, slightly swollen lips. “You taste so damn good. No wonder I can’t stop wanting more.”

With a huge grin, she wound her hands up around his neck. “That’s one more thing we can agree on.”

He smiled before pulling her onto his lap. She laughed and wiggled her derriere against him as she settled against him. Harrison groaned at the sensation. The woman did things to him that made him want to throw caution to the wind. “You smell delicious.”

“So do you,” she sighed, pressing her nose against his neck, before she started to lightly trail her lips over his skin, softly kissing down the column of his neck.

He closed his eyes in bliss as warmth rushed down his spine from her touch, but then the carriage clattered to a halt, and he cursed. Quickly, he shifted her from his lap onto the seat beside him as the driver banged on the ceiling of the carriage.

“Looks like we’re here,” he said, having to restrain himself from reaching out and pulling her back onto his lap, such was his urge to continue kissing her. The driver banged again on the ceiling.

“I suppose we better go,” she said, sounding as disappointed as Harrison felt while she turned the door handle and exited the vehicle.

Harrison had to adjust himself, cursing at how the woman could make him as stiff as a poker simply from a kiss. Thankfully, his black coat would hide most of his arousal while he worked on returning his attention back to the task at hand.

Stepping out after her, he paid the driver, then glanced up at the building Aimee was already staring at. It was a three-story apartment block that had seen better days. The bricks were cracking and caked in grime, the white paint of the door and windowsills had mostly flecked off, with the little remaining a dull gray from dirt accumulated on it, and the front door was wide open, the lock on it having been broken at some point.

“This isn’t the best area of London, so stay behind me until I’m confident it’s safe,” Harrison said, motioning with his hand to his rear, glad for once when instead of arguing, she nodded and fell in behind him. “If I’d known you’d be so compliant simply from kissing you in a carriage, I’d have done so much sooner.”

“Very funny,” she replied, following behind him as he walked into the building. “Interpreting mustn’t be a lucrative profession.”

“Doesn’t seem so, does it.” The entry hallway was as dilapidated as the outside, with fading and cracked wallpaper throughout, and a layer of dust covering every inch of floor the residents hadn’t walked a path through. A sign on the wall indicated units eight through sixteen were on the second floor.

“Do you think he’s home?” Aimee asked as they began climbing the stairs up to the second level where Harrison assumed unit twelve was.

“I hope so. I have some questions I want answered.” And if he was here, Harrison had no intention of leaving until he found out who’d paid him to try to sabotage the negotiations.

Cresting the stairs to the second floor, Harrison glanced at the door numbers of the apartments. “This way.” He turned to the right and led the way down the corridor toward number twelve, but stopped several feet from the unit when he caught sight of the open door. He held out his hand behind him to stop Aimee from advancing, and she paused, too, her eyes following his to the door.

“Stay here,” he whispered. “Until I make sure it’s safe.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded.

“I mean it,” he said before starting to approach the door.

The first thing he noticed was the lock hanging from the door, almost like someone had taken to it with a hammer. He stopped and listened for a few seconds, but there was no sound coming from inside. Pulling out his revolver, he gently cocked the hammer, then slowly pushed open the door. He glanced around the unit but couldn’t see any movement, so he slowly pushed the door fully open and walked inside.

It looked like a bomb had exploded. Furniture was toppled over, stuffing pulled out of the lounge and cushions, papers tossed all over the floor, the whole room obviously given a thorough search by someone.

Walking farther into the room, he noted an ajar door over to his left, presumably the bedroom, and then there was a small kitchen to his right, with all the cupboards open wide and the contents dumped onto the floor. Someone had been searching for something.

“What do you think they were looking for?” Aimee asked from behind him, and Harrison cursed.

“I told you to wait.”

“Which I did,” she replied, with a shrug. “After you entered and I didn’t hear any noise to suggest fighting, I assumed it was safe. It seems my assumption was correct, doesn’t it?”

Harrison holstered his pistol and shook his head. The woman was impossible. “No wonder your father always laments you getting into mischief.”

“If only he really knew.”

Harrison groaned. “God, I can only imagine.”

She dared to grin. “Perhaps one day I’ll even tell you. Anyhow, what do you think happened here? It’s too coincidental to simply be a break-in.”

“I agree.”

“We’re getting rather good at agreeing, aren’t we?” She winked at him as she wandered over to the kitchen and began glancing through the open cupboards. “You’ll have to be careful, or you might just start to agree with me on most things.”

Harrison had to smile at that. “I doubt it.” He glanced around the room and noticed some spots of red fluid on the floor near the bedroom. Walking over, he crouched down. “Looks like there’s some blood here.”

“Masterton’s?” Aimee came over and crouched beside him.

“I’m not sure,” he replied, trying not to notice how her very nearness made it near impossible to concentrate on anything else but her. “Could be, though the florist mentioned he was married, so it could be his wife’s, too.”

“There are too many questions and not enough answers,” she said, standing and placing her fists on her hips as she stared around the room. “Why would someone want to ransack his unit?”

Harrison stood also, then shrugged. “Perhaps he had some incriminating evidence? If someone is trying to manipulate share prices, that’s an offense punishable by prison, so whoever’s behind it might be trying to ensure they’re not discovered.”

“That makes sense.”

“We do seem to be agreeing with each other…far too much.”

“I agree .” She winked at him, and all Harrison wanted to do right then was sweep her up in his arms and feast upon that delectable mouth of hers. What was wrong with him?

“I don’t think there’s much we’ll find here,” he gruffly said, looking around the room, anywhere but at her. “But, still, it’s worth taking a look.”

Ten minutes later, after they’d gone through the unit, Harrison concluded that Masterton must have tried to flee, given he’d stuffed all his clothes and personal items from his wardrobe into some trunks in his room, but then must have been interrupted, because his trunks were still in the room but there was no sign of Masterton apart from some more blood splattered on the floor. Not enough to suggest a mortal wound, but enough to suppose the man had suffered a rather decent whack to the head.

“Well, one thing’s obvious,” Aimee said, standing up after having gone through the man’s trunks. “It’s doubtful he had a wife.”

“I’d noticed that, too,” he replied. There were no women’s clothes in the trunks, or any feminine finishes in the unit to suggest a woman had been living there.

“So why would he send flowers to a nonexistent wife?” Aimee tapped at her chin. “Or alternatively, why would the florist lie to us?”

“Who knows,” a man’s rough voice spoke from the doorway. “And who cares.”

Harrison glanced up to see a burly man standing in the doorway to the bedroom, holding a pistol. “And you are?”

“No one to concern ya self about. Don’t go thinking about pulling out ya pistol, either.” The man nodded down to Harrison’s jacket. “I’ll shoot ya before you can draw it.” He cocked the hammer of his gun to emphasize his point. “Now slowly, with two fingers, pull out ya weapon and toss it to the floor. And no funny business, or I’ll shoot this lady here.” He turned his gun upon Aimee, and Harrison felt a fury burn deep in his stomach.

With a terse nod, Harrison did as instructed, slowly pulling his revolver from his holster and tossing it onto the floor, in the opposite direction of the man.

“Oy, I didn’t say throw it that way.” The man sounded annoyed. “I meant for ya to toss it to me.”

Harrison gave a half shrug. “You didn’t say that.”

The man narrowed his eyes and motioned with his gun to the far wall. “You go over and wait there, while I fetch it. And you, just stay put.” He said the last to Aimee.

Wandering casually over to the far wall as instructed, Harrison’s eyes were anything but casual as they watched the man like a hawk, assessing the best way to gain the upper hand. Though the man had the solid build of a boxer, he’d clearly not been training regularly if the girth around his stomach was any indication. Harrison also had a good four or five inches on him, and if he could get him in close, he could wrestle the gun from him.

But he realized he’d forgotten who he was in the room with. The man strode past Aimee heading to Harrison’s gun, obviously having dismissed her as no threat. A mistake, to be sure, when it came to this woman, and when the man passed her, she immediately pulled out her derringer and rushed in behind him, pressing her weapon into his back and cocking the hammer.

“Move a muscle and I will shoot you in the back,” she said, with such a calm confidence that the man stopped in his tracks. Harrison covered the distance over to them and wrenched the gun from the man’s hand before quickly retrieving his own pistol and returning to face the man.

“I was told you were the only one with a gun,” the man said to Harrison, sweat breaking out on his forehead as Aimee walked over next to Harrison, her gun staying steadily aimed at the thug.

“Life is so unfair sometimes, isn’t it?” Aimee answered with such composure, despite the danger of the situation, that Harrison couldn’t help but be impressed. She turned to Harrison and grinned, and right at that moment, he was bowled over by just how magnificent she was. “How about that?” she said to him. “I saved you this time.”

He was silent for a moment staring at her, wondering rather desperately if perhaps she could save him from himself…from a future of loneliness, with only his work to keep him company…

Hastily, he cleared his throat. They had no future together, not after the next few weeks, and that was that. There could never be more between them. She’d said it herself, she didn’t want to be a countess and live in England, and that’s where his path lay, as much as he didn’t want it. Not that he wanted to marry her, even if the idea of waking up with her naked in his bed each morning was becoming an irresistible fantasy.

“Not bad at all,” he eventually answered, before very deliberately turning his attention back to the man. “Who sent you and told you I was armed?”

“The man who hired me,” the man replied with a shrug.

Harrison pressed his lips together. The thug certainly wasn’t the brightest spark. “And who is that man?”

“Don’t know,” the man answered, but there was no hint of belligerence in his tone. “I’m a contractor, ya see. I get sent instructions from my booking manager, and I follow those. The message said to come to this address and be careful ’cause you have a gun, but to get the accounts books she’d have on her.” He glanced over at Aimee and then down to the satchel strapped over her shoulder. “I wasn’t gonna hurt ya, neither of ya.”

“You’re after the ledgers?” she asked. “You’re not looking for Mr. Masterton?”

“I don’t know no Mr. Masterton. Just needed the books in ya bag is all.”

“And where were you meant to take the ledgers?” Harrison asked him.

“There’s someone waiting downstairs in a hackney for them. I was meant to give ’em to ’em.”

“They’re probably still there waiting!” Aimee exclaimed, glancing over to Harrison. “And if they are, we could find out who’s behind all of this.”

He could already see the intention in her eyes. “No. Damn it, Aimee, it could be a trap, or the man is lying to get us to rush off…” She ignored him and turned on her heel.

“You stay here and guard him!” she yelled over her shoulder, making a beeline for the door. “I’ll go and see if I can find the carriage.”

“Fuck me!” Harrison swore.

“She seems like a handful,” the man said, staring after Aimee as she disappeared through the front door of the unit.

“The understatement of the century,” Harrison growled. “You, stay there.” He grabbed the bedroom key from the lock, then spun around and slammed the bedroom door shut behind him, quickly locking it in his wake. He hoped it might keep the man contained, but he didn’t like his chances. However, he couldn’t let Aimee confront someone who potentially was behind this whole mess on her own.

He raced after her, vowing that when he caught up with her, he was going to spank her on her damn impulsive ass.