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Unchained Destinies
SARA WOOD
DESTINY"I know your game and refuse to play it - in fact, you're going to play mine." Mariann loved a challenge, but it seemed that no amount of quick thinking and fast talking could outwit ruthless publisher Vigado G bor. His laser-sharp instincts made him a formidable opponent - and he knew that Mariann's reasons for being in Budapest weren't quite what they seemed.Mariann couldn't allow herself to become intoxicated by Vigado's raw sexuality and brooding charisma. But Vigado played to win, and demanded nothing less than total surrender. How could Mariann resist?DESTINY A captivating trilogy from Sara Wood. Tanya, Mariann and Suzanne - three sister - they each have a date with DESTINY
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u975e2b3e-cdff-5c4b-a888-782328dd0fdc)
Excerpt (#uf043f772-12a5-53ba-b727-2d4721def0e2)
DESTINY (#u8503901f-1541-5864-bb11-6a3f271b0e46)
Title Page (#udfd8544e-32f4-5198-80dd-1969a30018db)
CHAPTER ONE (#u7aefda30-f88a-57e4-9e07-51e04f2b4a10)
CHAPTER TWO (#u2cca542b-c0d4-5c9b-bd57-249caa44aecc)
CHAPTER THREE (#uf6f4fef2-c30f-50ce-a89f-e70749073a21)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“You don’t play fair.”
“No,” Vigadó agreed softly. “I never do. Because I always have to win.”
And he kissed her.
For a moment Mariann clung to his warmth and then pushed away, her eyes dark with confusion. “You’re an accomplished lover, I’m sure,” she said unsteadily. “But sex and lust have nothing to do with hearts and souls.”
“So spend the night with me and teach me all about love,” Vigadó challenged mockingly.
DESTINY awaits us all, and for Tanya, Mariann and Suzanne Evans—all roads lead east to the mysteries of Hungary.
Tangled Destinies
As Tanya arrives in Hungary for her younger brother’s wedding, her older brother, István, lies in wait after four years. He’s the only man she’s ever loved—and he’s hurt her. But what he has to tell her will change the course of her life forever.
Unchained Destinies
Editor Mariann Evans is on a publishing mission in Budapest. But instead of duping rival publisher Vigadó Gábor, she is destined to fall into his arms.
Threads of Destiny
Suzanne Evans’ attendance at the double wedding of her sister Tanya and her brother, John, presents a fateful meeting with mysterious gate-crasher Lásló Huszár. He’s the true heir to a family fortune and he has a young family of his own. He is about to make sure that his complex family history is inextricably linked with hers, as all the elements of this compelling trilogy are woven together.
A Note to the Reader:
This novel is the second part of a trilogy. Each novel is independent and can be read on its own. It is the author’s suggestion, however, that they be read in the order written.
Unchained Destinies
Sara Wood
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_12c37cb6-1de4-53bf-8d81-33cb4ac112e5)
‘BULLSEYE!’
Mariann paused in the doorway of her new boss’s office, taken aback by his cry of triumph. Oh, good! she thought. He’s a bit zany! She saw he’d been playing darts—a healthy sign, she reckoned, in a man she’d judged to be under stress.
But when he turned there was a startling malevolence in his expression and she took the dart he thrust towards her with a wary concern. Ordinary bosses were difficult enough; she wasn’t too keen to play games with a maniacal one! What was his hang-up?
‘I’ll pass on the darts,’ she said pleasantly. ‘I came to—’
‘Throw it,’ he growled, jerking his head at the wall opposite.
Her sister Tanya had always said publishers were mad! Mariann stifled a giggle and balanced the dart between finger and thumb to humour him, turning her attention to the large photograph which had been skewered to the noticeboard by three other darts.
For a moment her hand wavered. Staring back at her was a man who seemed to burn holes in her. ‘At him? Who is he?’ she murmured in awe.
‘You must know Vigadó Gabór!’
Now she understood! Like many other publishers, Lionel had suffered because of this man. For several seconds, Vigadó’s intense animal quality held her quite still. It was the eyes that mesmerised her, glowering out black and full of malevolence from under lowered brows, capturing her, drawing her to him as surely as if she were being tugged on a rope like a slave!
‘Extraordinary guy!’ she managed, quite unreasonably disturbed. How infuriating! Her self-respect, her female pride was ruffled. Men never had that effect on her.
‘You said it.’ Lionel sounded strangely pleased.
‘Where’s his nice toothy smile for the photographer?’ she asked wryly, and studied the rest of him. Wide shoulders. An expensively toned torso beneath that expensively tailored navy suit. Dark as the devil. And a scar that slashed into an inch or so of his Slavonic cheekbones, lending him a disquieteningly exciting air of wickedness. ‘Wow! How did he get that?’ she murmured.
‘Duelling, they say.’ Her boss seemed to be watching her reaction like a hawk.
She laughed in disbelief. Too romantics ‘Oh, yes?’
‘He’s a wild, impetuous Hungarian with a vile temper——’
‘Fighting over a woman?’ she hazarded, seeing the possibility instantly.
‘Women,’ answered Lionel scathingly.
She wasn’t surprised. He had a mouth to make bones liquefy and a jaw…She smiled. That jaw told everything: his ruthlessness, the tenacity, the way he’d swept through the publishing world like a scourge. He’d been the talk of the Frankfurt Book Fair.
Her dart flew arrow-straight and lodged between a pair of wickedly sculptured lips. ‘Will that do?’ she said, giving a small laugh to clear the effect of Vigadó’s dynamic eroticism on her.
‘Till you skewer him in person,’ said Lionel bitterly.
‘I’m your new editor, not your hit-man,’ she grinned.
Entirely against her will, she found herself looking at the photograph again. Two-dimensional or not, Vigadó looked ready to leap out from his glossy paper prison at any moment and tear his many enemies apart with his teeth.
‘I think it’s time someone made a stand against him.’ Lionel slumped in his chair. ‘He’s devoured half the publishers in Europe. What do you know of him?’
Mariann considered. ‘Gossip, mostly. I know he’s a street-fighter and not a gentleman by any means. He head-hunts authors. He’s taken some of yours—and he has an agent in Hungary, like you.’
‘He’s trying to ruin me,’ said Lionel quietly.
Her sympathetic eyes noted the despair in every line of his body even while her own apprehension made her heart beat faster. This was her first editing job. Her first step on the ladder. If Lionel went under, so would she. More interviews. More lecherous bosses. She sighed.
‘He can’t want a small publishing house,’ she began.
‘It’s a matter of vindictiveness!’ Lionel raised a face consumed with hatred. ‘I could kill him! He’s threatening the existence of this precious company I’ve built up from nothing—nothing!’
‘You still have Mary O’Brien,’ Mariann soothed hastily.
‘Not any more!’
‘What?’ she cried in dismay.
Her boss poured out a large whisky and Mariann realised with concern that it was about to follow the route of several others. ‘Last week I went to Cork,’ grated Lionel, ‘to discuss the editing of Mary’s final six chapters. She’d vanished—gone into hiding, God knows where. Her letter said it all. Vigadó’s poached her!’
‘That’s unethical! Outrageous!’ gasped Mariann. ‘Mary’s your best-selling author—’
‘And without her I’m finished,’ her boss said grimly, hurling the last dart wildly at Vigadó’s merciless face.
‘Why?’ asked Mariann, appalled.
‘Let me spell it out for you. The bank knows Mary’s done a bunk. That swine must have told them. They’re reluctant to continue my overdraft and I can kiss goodbye to any hope of venture capital loans. This business eats money! I might as well slit my throat and be done with it!’ he yelled.
And he looked as though he might, given any more blows to his professional pride. ‘You can’t throw in the towel! Don’t let him win!’ she cried hotly. ‘I’ll stand by you, I’ll do anything I can.’ Her voice softened with sympathy and became coaxing. ‘OK, Vigadó’s stolen your authors—so what? He doesn’t have the one thing that made this company successful: you. If you built up your publishing house before, you can do so again.’
Lionel gave a mirthless laugh, looking more haggard than ever. ‘You don’t understand! I need Mary,’ he insisted. ‘She’s one blockbuster author that even the banks have heard of. She guaranteed our loan merely by being on our list. Mary can make a fortune for us. We nursed her, encouraged her, saw her through all her crises and published her first book, then the rest…’
‘What about her contract?’ said Mariann quickly. ‘She must be in breach of it. We can—’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘She was in between contracts. We’d been…discussing fresh terms.’
Mariann groaned. ‘What awful luck! But…perhaps one of those manuscripts on my desk will turn up another Mary—’
‘You know the odds!’ he said, impatiently dismissive. ‘I can’t afford to wait for the unlikely. Mariann, you’re my only hope!’
‘Me? I’ll read till the words blur for you, but I’ve been an editor’s secretary for the last two years. You only interviewed me for this job a few days ago! I’m not exactly your most experienced member of staff!’ she protested.
‘You’re the most beautiful, though.’ He clamped a sweating hand on hers, his expression that of a desperate man.
Her mind whirled uncomprehendingly and she drew back, her eyes narrowed. ‘What did you say?’ she asked coldly.
‘I have a job for you. A very important one. Get Mary back.’
She blinked, not seeing the connection. ‘How—?’
‘You speak a little Hungarian. You’ve not long come back from Hungary.’ He looked at her for confirmation.
‘Yes. I went for my brother’s wedding. John works there,’ she said, frowning—and omitting to say that the wedding never took place. ‘My sister Tanya is marrying a Hungarian—István Huszár.’
Suddenly she picked up his drift. Vigadó worked for Dieter Ringel, the vast, international publishing house. He’d risen sky-high in that organisation via his wife’s bed, marrying Dieter Ringel’s only daughter. But Vigadó was Hungarian by birth.
She slid her hand away. ‘I suppose you’ve heard somewhere that István is a pretty influential guy,’ she said slowly. ‘I want to help, but I won’t use him to—’
‘It’s your own talents I want!’ broke in Lionel. ‘Vigadó’s moving the fiction department of Dieter Ringel from London to Hungary. That means the records will be on their way to Budapest. Mary O’Brien’s hideaway address will be in his office files. Charm your way into the office. Make tea, service the drains, anything! My agent will give you every assistance. He knows his job is at stake too. When you’re alone, search for that address. Mary has always liked the intimacy of our small company and scorned conglomerates. If I can get to her, I can persuade her to return, I’m sure.’
Drains? He was raving! ‘Everyone knows that Vigadó works all night like a vampire,’ she pointed out. ‘Even if I did gain access, I’d never be alone long enough—’
“The Bookseller says he’s not leaving London himself till the end of the month. That gives you three weeks.’
‘Good grief! You’re serious! Commercial espionage!’ Gracefully she lowered herself into a deep chair and looked at him in amazement from under her thick, dark brows. ‘Lionel, the chances of my getting work in his office is nil—’
‘Don’t you look in a mirror?’ he snapped irritably. ‘God, Mariann, they’ll take you on just so they can look at you! You’d tempt a whole monastic orderly’
Putting his exaggeration down to stress, she flicked a glance down the neatly waisted scarlet jacket and brief coral skirt. ‘I look good,’ she acknowledged. ‘I get eyed up, but—’
‘No. Not good, That’s the point. Oh, I’m sure you say no more often than most women brush their teeth, but that’s not the impression you give out,’ said Lionel impatiently. ‘I don’t know what’s in your background, but it sure isn’t goodness! You’ve got legs a man could dream about, wondering where they ever end, a mindboggling body that sways with invitation whenever it moves and eyes that would lure an ice-man to his fate!’
Her mouth gaped open. He’d given no hint of the way he saw her. She’d virtually taken the job because he seemed preoccupied with other concerns and not the length of her legs.
‘Lionel!’ she said sharply, stiffly. ‘This is my second day. I’ll make it my last if—’
‘Oh, god!’ he groaned, burying his head in his hands. ‘You don’t know what I’m going through. He’s sleeping with my wife!’
Mariann’s eyes widened. No wonder Lionel was at his wits’ end and suggesting this hare-brained scheme! A believer in constancy where marriage was concerned, she glared indignantly at the photograph. Vigadó was evil— and looked it. A modern-day pirate, burning and sinking companies, press-ganging the crew and taking hostages. Poor Lionel, to be up against that monster!
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said gently.
‘Adding insult to injury,’ muttered Lionel, ‘he’s given my wife a job as senior editor!’
