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An Enticing Debt to Pay
Annie West
Dial R for Revenge… Forgiveness is a foreign concept to wealthy investment trader Jonas Deveson. Someone has been stealing from him. He’s got a good idea who it is and she’s going to pay…Seeing the harsh lines that bitterness has carved into Jonas’s handsome features, Ravenna Ruggiero knows he’ll never see the shades of grey in her actions. Jonas blackmails Ravenna into working as his housekeeper to pay off her debt, but living under the same roof with her leads to unexpected and forbidden temptation – and Jonas is no longer sure who is being punished!‘A romance packed with humour, steamy sensuality and heart-tugging pathos.’ – Sherryl, 52, Chippenham www.annie-west.com
Dial R for Revenge…
Forgiveness is a foreign concept to wealthy investment trader Jonas Deveson. Someone has been stealing from him. He’s got a good idea who it is and she’s going to pay.…
Seeing the harsh lines that bitterness has carved into Jonas’s handsome features, Ravenna Ruggiero knows he’ll never see the shades of gray in her actions.
Jonas blackmails Ravenna into working as his housekeeper to pay off her debt, but living under the same roof leads to unexpected yet forbidden temptation, and Jonas is no longer sure who is being punished!
Jonas would make her pay for what she’d done.
He’d make sure Ravenna learned the value of the money she’d taken, and when he’d finished with her she’d understand the value of hard work too. She’d repay her debt in full. There’d be no easy escape if she tried batting those long eyelashes at him.
The realisation stilled his impetuous need to taste her. Yet he couldn’t draw back. He was trapped by a hunger sharper and more potent than he’d known in years.
That infuriated him even more than the missing money. He burned with it. The fire in his belly was white-hot, with a virulent mix of lust and self-disgust at his weakness.
AT HIS SERVICE
From glass slippers to silk sheets
From washing his sheets to slipping between them, from ironing his shirts to ripping them off … When the job description said ‘full benefits package’, this wasn’t quite what she had in mind!
But when you work for a man who’s used to getting everything he wants, how do you stop yourself becoming his latest acquisition?
In May you read
MAID FOR MONTERO by Kim Lawrence
This month read:
AN ENTICING DEBT TO PAY by Annie West
Look out for moreAt His Servicestories coming soon!
An Enticing Debt to Pay
Annie West
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ANNIE WEST has devoted her life to an intensive study of tall, dark, charismatic heroes who cause the best kind of trouble in the lives of their heroines. As a sideline she’s also researched dream-worthy locations for romance—from bustling, vibrant cities to desert encampments and fairytale castles. It’s hard work but she loves a challenge. Annie lives with her family at beautiful Lake Macquarie, on Australia’s east coast. She loves to hear from readers and you can contact her at www.annie-west.com or at PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.
Recent titles by the same author:
IMPRISONED BY A VOW
CAPTIVE IN THE SPOTLIGHT
DEFYING HER DESERT DUTY
UNDONE BY HIS TOUCH
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
For dearest Claire whose hard work, exuberance and sheer talent are an inspiration.
With love.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE (#ua6f2337e-5891-5037-8e3e-dcafe59adfab)
CHAPTER TWO (#u01fafbaf-0931-59f7-9cd8-63441bb0e719)
CHAPTER THREE (#u5aa5463b-b041-5914-8be9-5da98eecd5b6)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uf7dfbf53-d6de-5f6b-8dce-3ee646facc15)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
EXCERPT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
‘I’M AFRAID THE latest audit has thrown up an...irregularity.’
Jonas looked across his wide, polished desk and frowned as his Head of Finance shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
What sort of irregularity could make Charles Barker palpably nervous? He was the best. Jonas made it a policy only to employ the best. He didn’t have patience for underperformers. Barker ran his part of Jonas’ business enterprise like a well-oiled machine.
‘A significant irregularity?’
Barker shook his head. ‘Not in overall financial terms.’
Since the company’s total assets figured in the billions, Jonas supposed he should be relieved, but watching Barker loosen his tie, Jonas felt a prickle of foreboding.
‘Spit it out, Charles.’
The other man smiled, but it turned into a grimace as he passed his laptop across the desk.
‘There. The top two lines.’
Jonas noted the first entry—a transfer of several thousand pounds. Below it another, much larger entry. No details were provided for either.
‘What am I looking at?’
‘Withdrawals against your original investment account.’
Jonas’ frown became a scowl. He used that account now only to transfer personal funds between investments.
‘Someone accessed my account?’ But the answer was obvious. Jonas hadn’t made these withdrawals. He managed day-to-day expenses elsewhere and, though large by normal standards, the withdrawals weren’t significant enough to match his usual personal investments.
‘We’ve traced them.’ Of course, Barker would make it his business to have an answer before he fronted Jonas with the problem.
‘And?’ Curiosity rose.
‘You’ll remember the account was originally set up as part of a family enterprise.’
How could Jonas forget? His father had given him chapter and verse on how to run a business, pretending he, as head of the family, was the senior partner in the enterprise. But they’d both known it was Jonas’ talent for spotting a sound investment, and his ruthless hunger for success, that had turned the floundering investment company around. Piers had simply been along for the ride, revelling in the novelty of success. Until father and son had parted ways.
‘I remember.’ Memory was a sour tang on his tongue.
Barker shifted again. ‘The withdrawals were made using an old cheque book—one that had supposedly been destroyed.’ Jonas looked up, catching a faint flush on the other man’s cheeks. ‘The records show they were accounted for but this one of your father’s...’
‘It’s okay, I get the picture.’ Jonas let his gaze drift across the unrivalled view of the City of London.
His father. Jonas hadn’t called him that since childhood when he’d discovered what sort of man Piers Deveson was. Despite his bluster about honour and the family name, Piers had been no model of virtue. It shouldn’t surprise Jonas to learn the old man had found a way to access his son’s assets illegally. The wonder was he hadn’t used it earlier.
‘So Piers—’
‘No!’ Barker sat straighter as Jonas turned back to him. ‘I’m sorry, but we’ve reason to believe it wasn’t your father. Here.’ He passed some photocopied pages across.
Jonas scanned them. Two cheques with his father’s familiar flourishing signature.
Except they weren’t Piers Deveson’s signature. They were close enough to fool a stranger but he was familiar enough with that scrawl to spot the differences.
‘Look at the dates.’
Jonas did and to his surprise felt a punch to the gut that winded him.
Bad enough to think the old man had pilfered funds. But this was—
Jonas shook his head, his lungs cramping as unexpected emotion filled him.
‘The second one is dated a day after your father died.’
Silently Jonas nodded, his heart slowing to a ponderous beat. He knew the date, and not just because it was recent.
For years his father had been a thorn in his side, a blot on the family—living in gaudy luxury with his scheming mistress. They’d flaunted themselves among the rich and notorious, uncaring of any hurt they’d caused. When Piers died Jonas had felt nothing—neither regret nor an easing of the tension that had gripped him since Piers’ defection had taken its ultimate toll. He’d expected to feel something. For weeks there’d been nothing, just an emptiness where emotion should have been. Yet now—
‘Not my father then.’ His voice was calm, belying the raw emotions churning in his gut. Beneath the desk his hands clenched.
‘No. We’ve traced the perpetrator. And she’s not too clever, given the obvious anomaly with the date.’ Barker spoke quickly, obviously eager to get this over. ‘It was a Ms Ruggiero. Living at this address in Paris.’
Barker handed over another paper. It bore the address of the exclusive apartment Piers Deveson had shared for the last six years with his mistress, Silvia Ruggiero.
Jonas paused before reaching out to take the paper. His fingers tingled as if it burned him.
‘So.’ Jonas sat back. ‘My father’s whore thinks she can continue to milk his family even after his death.’ His voice was devoid of emotion, but he felt it deep inside like the burn of ice on bruised flesh.
How could the woman think she’d get away with this after all she’d done to the Devesons? Surely she wasn’t stupid enough to expect mercy?
His pulse thudded as he thought of the woman who’d destroyed so much.
He remembered Silvia Ruggiero as clearly as if he’d seen her yesterday, her voluptuous figure, flashing eyes and froth of dark hair. Sex on legs, one of his friends had said the first time he’d seen Silvia, who was then the Devesons’ housekeeper. And he’d been right. Not even a drab uniform had doused the woman’s vibrant sexuality.
That had been mere weeks before Jonas’ father had turned his back on family and responsibility, let alone respectability, by running off with his housekeeper to set her up in a luxury Paris apartment.
Four months later Jonas’ mother was found dead. An accidental overdose, the coroner had said. But Jonas knew the truth. After years spurned by the man she’d loved, his public repudiation had finally been too much. His mother had taken her own life.
Jonas breathed deep, pulling oxygen into cramped lungs. Now the woman responsible for his mother’s death had struck again. She had the nerve to think she could continue to steal from him!
The paper in his hand crackled as his fist tightened slowly, inexorably. Fury surged, tensing every sinew. His jaw ached as he clenched his teeth against a rising tide of useless invective.
Jonas never wasted energy on words when actions were so much more effective.
For six years he’d spurned the idea of revenge. He’d risen above that temptation, burying himself in work and refusing any contact with Piers or his gold-digging mistress.
But now this—the straw that broke the camel’s back.
The blood raced hot and sharp in his veins as for the first time Jonas allowed himself to contemplate fully the pleasures of retribution.
‘Leave this to me, Charles.’ Jonas smiled slowly, his facial muscles pulling tight. ‘There’s no need to report the fraud. I’ll sort it out personally.’
* * *
