The Billionaire’s Bride Of Vengeance Read online

  With a sigh, Nicole slipped her bare feet into a pair of black mules and made her way reluctantly to the door.

  She heard him before she saw him, marching back and forth across the marble-floored foyer, his heavy footsteps echoing through the house. As Nicole crossed the carpeted landing which led to the curving staircase, she began picturing an overweight fellow in his fifties with a power complex. So the sight of a tall, dark-haired, well-built man in his mid-to-late thirties came as a surprise, as did the clothes he was wearing.

  Nicole might have reached the stage when an expensive wardrobe had lost its appeal for her, but she still recognised top-quality clothes when she saw them. This man’s navy-blue suit was definitely not off-the-peg. Aside from the faint sheen on the material, which shouted a mohair blend, the single-breasted jacket was superbly tailored, with not a wrinkle where the sleeves met the presumably padded shoulders.

  For surely they couldn’t be his real shoulders, Nicole thought a touch cynically as she started walking down the stairs. Men who wore suits like that were rarely renowned for their physical fitness.

  David had looked extremely well built in all of his business suits. But he’d not been quite so impressive once he’d undressed.

  Nicole grimaced. She was always doing that nowadays, finding things to criticise about her ex-fiancé. Yet once she’d thought him fantastic. More fool her!

  Suddenly, the man downstairs stopped that infernal pacing and glanced up.

  For the first time during the last four months, Nicole was grateful for something her stepfather had once given her—a modelling and deportment course which had also concentrated on self-control and discipline.

  She’d never needed both of those things more than at the moment when this man’s eyes met hers.

  Blue, they were. Not a bright or a brilliant blue, but an icy blue, about the same colour as his shirt.

  It wasn’t the colour of his eyes which rattled her, however, but the intense dislike she glimpsed in their chilly depths.

  For a split second her step faltered, but then she continued on down the stairs, smiling at him and pretending he wasn’t looking at her as if she was his worst enemy.

  All the while she was wondering why he was so antagonistic towards her, as well as who he might be.

  She’d presumed, when she’d first seen his expensive business suit, that he’d been sent from the bank that had repossessed the house. Now that she could see him better, however, she changed her mind on that score.

  He didn’t look like a banker. His thick, wavy black hair was worn too long for that career, just reaching his collar at the back. There was also something decidedly unconservative about his roughly hewn features. If she wasn’t mistaken his nose had been broken at some stage. And there was the hint of a five-o’clock shadow around his strongly squared jaw line.

  Put him in less elegant clothes, and one would have thought he did something physical for a living. Physical and dangerous.

  A prize fighter, maybe. Or a pirate.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ she apologised politely as she reached the bottom step.

  Russell almost laughed. She wasn’t sorry about anything.

  Females like her thought the world was their oyster. Of course, being rich and beautiful was a powerful combination. Though possibly, now that her doting father’s financial situation had changed, she would have to rely more on her beauty.

  It irked Russell that he found her just as attractive with her clothes on, though that image of her in the nude wasn’t far from his mind. It also irked him that she looked fantastic without any of the artifices that were rich bitches’ stock-in-trade.

  Not a single scrap of make-up adorned her lovely face, not to mention her even more lovely green eyes.

  Hadn’t he known they’d be beautiful?

  Of course, they were her mother’s eyes.

  He stared hard at her and tried to see what she’d inherited from her father, beside her natural air of self-containment.

  ‘And you are?’ she asked coolly as she stretched out her right hand towards him.

  ‘McClain,’ he ground out, steeling himself as he shook her hand. Touching her in any way, shape or form could be hazardous, so he kept any contact as brief as possible. ‘Russell McClain.’

  ‘That name rings a bell,’ she said, a delicate frown creasing her forehead. ‘Have we met before?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I didn’t think so,’ she mused aloud. ‘But…’ The frown abruptly disappeared, replaced by a smile which twisted Russell’s gut into a terrible knot. ‘I know who you are now,’ she said with a flash of recognition. ‘You’re the McClain on all those For Sale signs around Sydney. You’re McClain Real Estate.’

  ‘That’s me,’ he admitted.

  ‘So you’ve been hired to sell the house.’

  ‘No.’

  She looked taken aback. ‘I don’t understand. If you’re not here as a real-estate agent, then why are you here?’

  ‘I’m here, Ms Power,’ he said, his mouth curving in anticipation of his moment of triumph, ‘not to sell this house, but to take possession of it. As of an hour ago, it’s mine, along with all its contents.’

  Once again, he was denied satisfaction. Because she didn’t look devastated. Just surprised.

  ‘Goodness! That was quick. Did you get a bargain?’

  ‘I paid the market price,’ he said somewhat stiffly. Why wasn’t she more upset?

  The answer was obvious: because she already knew about the bank’s repossession and probable fire-sale. Why? Because she was still in touch with her doting father.

  ‘Mmm,’ she said. ‘I would have thought the bank might have auctioned it. But no matter. My only concern is removing my personal things.’

  ‘Why didn’t you remove them before this?’ he asked abruptly.

  ‘I would have if I’d known the situation. But I didn’t. I’ve been overseas for the last few months. Although once Mum contacted me and told me what had happened, I flew back straight away. My plane got in first thing this morning. I honestly didn’t think it would cause any trouble if I came here to collect my things. I didn’t mean to stay long, but I was so wrecked after the flight that I couldn’t resist a sleep.’

  ‘I see,’ he bit out. Now he knew why she hadn’t been in the news lately. She’d been overseas. Probably staying in various playgrounds of the rich and famous: St Moritz, the French Riviera, maybe the Greek islands? Her skin had that warm, honey colour which indicated a life of leisure in the sun.

  ‘Look, it won’t take me too long to pack what I want,’ she went on hurriedly. ‘I promise I won’t take anything I shouldn’t. The household silver is safe, I can assure you,’ she finished with another of those gut-twisting smiles.

  Damn it all, what was it about this creature which entranced him so?

  He wanted to hate her, but he was finding it darned difficult.

  Russell vowed to try harder.

  ‘You obviously still have a set of house keys,’ he pointed out sharply.

  ‘I promise to leave them behind. We could arrange a hiding place.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Ms Power. I’ll stay till you go. That way you can hand them to me personally.’

  Her shrug showed the first trace of irritation. ‘If you insist.’

  ‘I insist.’

  ‘It could take me quite a while,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to contact a girlfriend and get her to bring over her car. I have a lot of clothes and only a couple of suitcases.’

  ‘That’s all right. I’ll wait.’

  Her very pretty mouth tightened. ‘You’re being ridiculous, do you know that?’

  ‘I’m being careful.’

  ‘I only want what is rightfully mine.’

  ‘So do I. I’ve paid twenty million dollars for the privilege.’

  ‘Twenty million! Wow! And there I was thinking you were a greedy opportunist.’

  Russell drew himself up to his full six feet three inches.
/>
  ‘I don’t take advantage of other people’s misfortunes,’ he said, stung by her remark.

  ‘In that case you should appreciate my situation more,’ she said. ‘And be a little more accommodating. I mean, you’re not moving in here right this second, are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then what’s your problem?’ she threw at him, green eyes flashing. ‘Surely you don’t think I’m going to strip the place bare.’

  ‘I have no idea what you might do, Ms Power. I don’t know you.’

  Her hands found her hips. ‘Then why do you dislike me so much?’

  ‘I don’t,’ he lied.

  ‘Huh! I can always tell when someone doesn’t like me, and you don’t like me, Mr McClain.’

  ‘You’re imagining things,’ he said.

  ‘If I am, then goodness knows how you got to be such a success at your job. I always thought real-estate salesmen were experts in charm. You seem to have left yours at the front door.’

  Russell’s smile was wry. ‘Aah, but I’m not trying to sell you anything, Ms Power.’

  ‘Oh for pity’s sake, call me Nicole.’

  ‘If you insist.’

  ‘I insist.’ Her hands fell from her hips as an exasperated sigh escaped her lips. ‘Look, I appreciate you must have had a shock, finding someone in your new house, especially not knowing who I was. After all, you didn’t know it was me, did you?’

  ‘No,’ he replied, his mind once again going back to the sight of her in that shower. His body began recalling that sight, too.

  Russell cleared his throat and did up his suit jacket. ‘I thought you were a squatter,’ he admitted.

  ‘And once you found out I wasn’t?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You still weren’t happy. When I came downstairs you glared at me like I was some kind of vermin.’

  That’s because I wanted you, naked again, and under me. For hours on end.

  I still do.

  The discomfort of his ongoing arousal made Russell brutally aware that to stay in her provocative company any longer than necessary was masochistic in the extreme. He had to get out of here, and soon.

  ‘Now you really are imagining things,’ he said. ‘But you’re right,’ he added with one of those warm, winning smiles he reserved for his female clients. ‘I am being rather ridiculous about this. So please…take your time packing your things, and stay another night, if you need to. You can drop the keys in at the Bondi branch of McClain Real Estate any time tomorrow.’

  She seemed stunned by his sudden turnaround.

  Russell took her speechless moment as his cue to depart.

  ‘Goodbye, Ms Power,’ he said with a small nod of his head. ‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘I STILL don’t know what it was that I said or did which changed his mind,’ Nicole told Kara as they carried yet another load of clothes down to Kara’s car.

  It was eleven o’clock the next morning, Nicole having taken up Russell McClain’s offer to stay another night.

  ‘He went from being hostile to helpful in one second flat,’ she went on. ‘And then he called meeting me a pleasure! I tell you, I’ve never been so bamboozled in all my life.’

  Kara gave her a knowing look. ‘You fancied him, didn’t you?’

  ‘You have to be joking! He was the rudest man I’ve ever met.’

  ‘Yep,’ Kara said, totally unruffled by her best friend’s denial. ‘You fancied him.’

  Nicole sighed. ‘I shouldn’t have.’ But Kara was right. Underneath the natural antagonism she felt at the way he’d treated her, she had fancied him.

  Maybe she had a secret yen for the dark and dangerous type. Or for men with cold eyes and a personality to match.

  But now Nicole realised that she hadn’t been fooled by his switch from chilly to charming, just confused.

  ‘Was he very good-looking?’ Kara asked as they trudged upstairs again for the umpteenth time.

  ‘You wouldn’t have thought so,’ she told her petite and slightly plump friend, who always went for the pretty-boy type. ‘Too tall and too macho for you.’

  ‘What did you say his name was?’

  ‘Russell McClain. Of McClain Real Estate fame.’

  ‘Never heard of him. But you know me—I have absolutely no interest in business.’

  An understatement. Kara’s family were old money and high society. Kara didn’t have to work, so she didn’t. Nicole could now see that her best friend’s charity-luncheon, party-going lifestyle was extremely shallow, as hers had once been. But she still loved Kara, who had a kind heart and would never deliberately hurt anyone.

  Unlike other people with money…

  ‘This McClain guy has obviously done very well for himself,’ Kara said. ‘You did say he paid twenty million for this place, didn’t you?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You should have been nicer to him.’

  ‘I was nice to him,’ Nicole protested. ‘Till he made it perfectly clear that he didn’t like me for whatever weird and wonderful reason. Oh, what am I doing, taking all these clothes with me?’ she said once they reached the walk-in wardrobe again. ‘I know I said I wasn’t going to leave a single thing behind for that man to throw away, but this is insane. It’s not as though I would wear most of them any more. Especially these,’ she said as she scooped up an armful of evening gowns.

  ‘I can’t understand why not,’ Kara said, taking the last few dresses down from the racks. ‘They’re all utterly gorgeous. I think you’ve gone a bit far with this new social conscience of yours, Nickie darling. You don’t have to dress like a tramp to do good in this world. And you don’t have to sell all your lovely jewellery, which arrived first thing this morning, by the way. You must know you won’t get even half what it’s worth. What you need,’ she went on as the girls made their way downstairs again, ‘is a seriously rich husband who’ll give you an unlimited credit card, then leave you alone to do whatever you like with his money.’

  ‘While he does whatever he likes,’ Nicole pointed out archly. ‘The last man on earth I would ever marry is a seriously rich man.’

  ‘Megan is.’

  Nicole stopped just inside the front door to throw her friend a puzzled glance. ‘Megan who?’

  ‘Megan Donnelly. Surely you remember her. She was in the class below ours at school.’

  Kara and Nicole had attended a private girls’ boarding-school which only the very well-heeled could afford.

  ‘I can’t put a face to the name,’ Nicole said, frowning.

  ‘She was a pretty brunette with big brown eyes. But terribly shy.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember her now. She was a good artist, wasn’t she? Used to do all the school posters.’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘Who’s she marrying?’

  ‘James Logan.’

  Nicole’s eyebrows arched in surprise. James Logan was the high-profile owner of Images, Sydney’s biggest advertising and management agency. She’d met him socially a few times, and, whilst he was extremely good-looking with a highly polished persona, there was something about him which she didn’t like.

  ‘He’s been married before, hasn’t he?’ she said on their way down to the front steps. ‘To that model, Jackie something-or-other. Golly, I’m bad with names.’

  ‘Jackie Foster. Yes, they were divorced a couple of years back. He must have given her a huge settlement because she doesn’t work as a model any more. Rumour has it she bought a house in Acapulco and is living there with her new partner. Women like her are never alone for long,’ Kara finished up with a flash of uncharacteristic cynicism.

  ‘Or men like him,’ Nicole replied just as drily.

  ‘True.’

  ‘I wonder what he sees in Megan,’ Nicole said as she laid the evening gowns on top of the huge pile on the back seat.

  ‘Who knows?’ Kara replied with an airy shrug. ‘But he isn’t called the makeover
man for nothing. I imagine it will be a very different Megan who swans down the aisle on Saturday afternoon. I can’t wait to see what she looks like. That’s everything, isn’t it?’ she said, and slammed the hatchback door shut.

  ‘I should hope so. How come you got an invitation to Megan’s wedding, by the way?’ Nicole asked. ‘I mean, it’s not as though you and she were close friends.’

  ‘Her mum and my mum play bridge together. Would you like to come? I know for a fact that there have been a couple of last minute drop-outs, which annoyed the bride’s mother no end. I could easily get you an invite. It’s black-tie, but that won’t be a problem for you, not with your wardrobe.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Kara.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. My whole family’s going. You’ll still be staying at our place on Saturday, won’t you?’

  Nicole didn’t want to impose on Kara’s parents, or stay in Sydney any longer than necessary. But it would take time to sell her jewellery, if she wanted a fair price.

  Thinking of selling her jewellery gave her another idea. Why not sell off most of her totally useless wardrobe as well? There was an up-market second-hand shop in Double Bay that bought designer clothes and accessories, especially items which hadn’t been worn, or worn hardly at all. Nicole’s mother had been a regular customer over the years, having developed the snobbish and almost obscene habit of not wearing any outfit more than twice.

  ‘Well?’ Kara piped up. ‘Does that face mean a yes or a no?’

  ‘It’s a yes,’ Nicole said. ‘If you’re sure your mum doesn’t mind.’ When she’d rung Kara this morning, it had worried her that Kara’s family might not want to have anything further to do with her, now that she was the daughter of a runaway bankrupt who’d clearly left a lot of angry people behind.

  ‘Will you stop being so silly? Of course Mum won’t mind. She thinks you’re terrific. That settles it, then. You’re coming with us to Megan’s wedding. If nothing else, you’ll get a good feed, which you look like you need. And who knows? You might meet some gorgeous guy who’ll sweep you off your feet and keep you in Sydney for a while. I’ve really missed you, you know, sweetie. Life hasn’t been the same without your joie de vivre.’