Blackmailed

  Dedication

  Thank you,

  Steve, my hubby who puts up with all my time on the computer,

  Sasha, you know what “that’s” about,

  Sharis, Amanda, Colleen, Cathy, Anna, Ann,

  And all my CORE buddies, who didn’t get to read the sexy parts.

  Mom—love you.

  In memory of James Shaw.

  Chapter One

  Brianna Wyatt stared at the arrogant, red-faced man sitting across from her and snorted. She should have known better than to get into the limo with him. Her father, only in the sense he’d provided the sperm that had created her, was demented. She let her eyes fall to a speck on the red-carpeted floor.

  He’d cast her aside for all her twenty-six years, and now he suddenly needed her?

  “I will have a grandson, Brianna, my heir, and since you’re the only legitimate vessel I have, you’ll be the one to give him to me!”

  Where did her father get these ideas anyway? Did he suppose she was going to become the next Virgin Mary? She glanced up and sobered at the serious look on his face.

  Straightening in her seat, she stiffened her spine and her resolve, vowing not to let him get away with shunning the two children he already had.

  “You have a son, remember? He is your heir.” Her teeth hurt from gritting them. Andrew Wyatt was more than aware of the son he had, but chose to ignore. She hated him for that. In his eyes, females were worthless except for bearing their husbands males to further the family line and take over the business. Non-perfect males were to be kept in secret, banished as if they didn’t exist.

  That’s exactly the way he’d treated her and her brother. Even more so when their mother abandoned them. Brianna had been just ten years old at the time, her brother, six months.

  Her father threw a hand in the air. “Silence. That boy will never be able to do anything I need him to.”

  He would if you gave him the chance. Brianna seethed as she glared at him from beneath her lashes. Damn him to hell. Thank God she’d been able to shelter Scottie from most of the intense hatred and indifference running through their father’s veins.

  “So what, you expect me to get pregnant by some stranger just so you can have another penis in the house?” She couldn’t stop her hands from clenching into white-knuckled fists.

  “You’ll do whatever I tell you to, if you ever want to see Scott again.”

  Ah, there it was. He’d played his trump card knowing she would do anything for Scottie. Anything for the “imperfect” baby boy who she’d single-handedly raised since his birth. In the dim interior of the limo, she could see the red fury of her father’s face ebbing. A sure sign he knew he’d just won.

  Her breath wheezed out of her lungs, a symptom of an impending asthma attack, as the delusional man sat across from her like a king on his throne.

  A creak of leather as her father relaxed back into his seat refocused her attention. The redness of his jowls was gone now and a feral smile split his lips. What had he done?

  “He’s not a stranger anyway. He’s Cole Masters.” There was a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

  Brianna barely refrained from laughing out loud and thought about what she knew about Cole Masters. He was in the top echelon of St. Louis’s “Who’s Who”. He may even be the top. She’d overheard her father and his business partners speak of him often enough. He was rich beyond measure, many times over her father’s own wealth, had a powerful corporate drive, and was way younger than most of his competitors.

  He owned and lived on a prime piece of real estate which overlooked the Missouri River. The mansion itself had been scrutinized more than once for its architectural brilliance, having been designed by somebody famous, and had just recently been featured on the cover of a magazine.

  As for the man himself, she had seen him many times in the media. He was a handsome, much coveted bachelor who regularly dated beautiful, sexy women. Women who fawned over him, batting their eyelashes and cooing like imbeciles. Women who had far more experience than Brianna could ever hope to have.

  He was also rumored to have extravagant and shocking sexual tastes that ran from bondage to sharing. The gossip she’d heard through the grapevine had left her panties damp and her heart racing.

  No, the gazillionaire would never agree to be a sperm donor.

  Still, the mere thought of a man like Cole mastering her body and stroking her into oblivion made her stomach muscles clench. She crossed her legs in an effort to stave off the moisture pooling between her thighs, cringing when her now tight nipples sent an electric tingle throughout her body as they rubbed against the soft cotton fabric of her bra.

  “If you’re thinking you’ve just gotten out of this, it’s already done,” her father gloated.

  Brianna’s head snapped up, the blood rushing from her face.

  “And stop that infernal noise you’re making.”

  She fumbled in her pocket for her inhaler and somehow managed to give herself a puff despite her shakiness. Tears blurred her vision, though she couldn’t decide if it was from wanting to laugh, or fright that he may have done something stupid. He could not be serious. This was the twenty-first century. Fathers did not give their daughters away to the highest bidder anymore. And daughters did not go willingly.

  Cole Masters would laugh himself unconscious the second she walked through the door. Brianna would never measure up to his standard of women. She was five foot six and sometimes clumsy, not tall and graceful. She pulled her mouse-brown hair into a ponytail everyday and never let it fall in a cascading waterfall down her back. Her eyes were blue. Not cerulean, not Caribbean, not even sky. Just blue. She guessed her body was curvy and plump in all the right places, but no diet in the world would ever make her look svelte.

  Her father sat taller and straightened his impeccable tie, indicating he was through talking to her. He pressed on the button which allowed communication with the driver.

  “Where are you going?” Her stomach twisted in a knot, and for the second time she sorely wished she’d snubbed him and walked away.

  “Not me. We. We’re going to Cole’s house. He’s expecting you. Must you always dress like a slob?” he sneered.

  Brianna lurched forward in her seat, strangling herself on the seatbelt in the process. “You cannot tell me who to have sex with!”

  The fury returned to his face as he brought himself nose to nose with her and gripped her shoulders with fingers strong enough to crush her bones. “I’ll damned well tell you who to fuck, and when, and if I have to hold you down while he does it, I will.” Spittle shot from his mouth with his anger.

  Brianna paled, the blood rushing from her brain and threatening to cause her to faint. “That’s rape.”

  He shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

  “You’re insane. There’s no way to even guarantee you’ll get a boy!” How could she possibly get him to see reason?

  Her father sat back again. He inspected his immaculately manicured nails as he spoke. “I am well aware of who controls the gender of a child, Brianna. Do not think to undermine my intelligence. Cole comes from a very long line of males. There’s not a single, worthless female for five or more generations. I trust his sperm to do the right thing.”

  “I won’t do it.”

  His bark of laughter quickly turned into a snarl as his hand snaked out to strike her cheek. It stopped just a breath away from her face.

  “I would think you would not want Cole’s first time meeting you to be hampered by a black eye or bloody lip, on top of your less than stellar looks. Surely you don’t want his first impression of you to be one of an uncontrollable woman. After all, in a few short hours he’s going to have his dick inside you, filling you with his remarkabl e DNA.”

  His words hit their mark and Brianna sank in her seat.

  “Just think about Scott, all alone, without his precious sister protecting him. You’ll never see him again, I promise.” He leaned in close enough to where she could smell his whiskey-laden breath and her stomach turned over. His lip curled into a snarl. “As soon as you give me a son, you can pack both your things and Scott’s, and get the hell out of my house.”

  Brianna trembled as tears slid down her cheeks. Her father didn’t want a grandson. He planned to pass her baby off as his son! He didn’t even want to keep her around as the baby’s mother. She truly was just a vessel.

  “Make yourself presentable, Brianna. You have forty-five minutes to do so.” His tone brooked no argument.

  She stared out the window of the limo and thought wildly about how to get out of the mess she was in.

  “The doors cannot be opened from the inside, Brianna. I made certain of that earlier today.” He spoke calmly now as if they were going to church, not to her scheduled rape. “Resign yourself to your fate, my dear. I’m sure if you do everything he tells you to, he’ll go easy on you the first time.”

  He patted her knee like she was a child. Brianna jerked away from his touch and squeezed against the door, fresh tears falling with his snort of amusement. She could do this. For Scottie, she would do this horrible thing. She didn’t think there was any chance of Cole agreeing, but they would soon find out.

  “I’m telling you, Tyler, this guy’s for real.” Cole swung his feet up and settled them on top of his desk, then leaned back into his leather desk chair as he spoke on the phone to his security specialist and best friend, Tyler Cannon.

  “Yeah, well,” Tyler said, “I ran the check on him, and on her. No one seems to know much about her. The mother’s not in the picture, hasn’t been since Brianna was about ten. No one I talked to could tell me anything about Lydia Wyatt. I got the same story over and over. Apparently it was rare to see Lydia in public, but impressions were she was depressed. Some blue hair told me it might have been over a miscarriage. Anyway, one day she was there, the next day she was gone. Wyatt told everybody she went away to get help, but if she did, she never came back.”

  “There are no other children?”

  “Sure, but none of them by his wife. Our boy likes to sleep around. A lot. I found four other kids, all girls, from different mothers, which he pays for on the side. Handsomely, I might add. Who knows how many more are out there.”

  Cole sighed and rubbed a weary hand over his face. “So what, is this Brianna ugly or something?”

  “Not from the pictures I’ve seen. She’s not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination, but there’s something about her face. I got a hard-on looking at her.”

  “Well, that says it all right there.”

  Tyler laughed into the phone, and Cole laughed with him. The scary thing was, if Tyler got hard, then Cole would too. His cock thickened beneath the buttons of his worn jeans just thinking about the women they’d shared.

  “I should get back early in the morning. I’ll talk to you then and see how this meeting went. When’s the holier-than-thou coming?” Tyler asked, his voice ringing with mockery.

  “I’m waiting for him as we speak.”

  Tyler’s grunt resonated through the phone. “And why exactly does he want this?”

  “How the hell should I know? I told you, Freddy received this letter by courier late Friday evening. By the time I left Caroline—”

  “When are you gonna see how big of a bitch she is,” Tyler growled.

  “Now see, that’s why I never invite you.”

  “I wouldn’t touch that vixen with a ten-foot pole. Someday she’s gonna grab your balls, your money and your pride, and you’ll never see ’em again.

  “She’ll never get the chance.” Cole wondered how he’d lost this conversation with just the mention of Caroline. “By the time I got home, it was late, or early I guess. I opened it when I saw it sitting out on the desk. That’s when I called you.”

  “And I do so appreciate you calling me in the dead of night. So what? You think he’s planning on some kind of blackmail? Seems like a risky proposition, I’m not sure how he’d pull off getting any money out of this.”

  “That’s why I pay you the big bucks. To find these things out.”

  “You’ve been paying me? I haven’t seen any checks.”

  “No, but your company has.” Cole pulled the phone off his ear and stared at it. Talking to Tyler was sometimes like talking to a two-year old.

  “Temper, temper. Tell me again what the letter says. I get that the man wants an heir, but hell, he’s got fuckin’ five of ’em.”

  Putting the phone back to his ear, Cole heard a door slam and the honk of a horn. Tyler had been in his car then, probably staking out another one of his deadbeat dads. The man owned a multi-million dollar security company providing services for very well-off businesses and people, yet Tyler grew softhearted for any woman who needed help with her kids. Cole didn’t even know how Tyler’s name had become synonymous with I’ll-find-your-ex-and-get-you-your-money, but somehow, word got around. About twice a month, Tyler would come to him, or simply call, and say he’d be back in a few days. Cole would wave him away, not needing to remind his best friend to keep in touch.

  “The letter says, ‘he is in need of a male heir to pass on his legacy’.”

  “Who talks like that?” Tyler barked.

  Cole laughed. “You mean besides my own grandfather? Andrew Wyatt, I guess. Apparently he doesn’t want his ‘legacy’ going to a girl. It doesn’t seem likely the man will get it done by himself, seeing as he has five daughters with five different women.”

  “So why doesn’t the dick just marry her off to the highest bidder?”

  Cole shrugged, an action Tyler wouldn’t see, but he felt the same way. “I don’t know. If a man were to get her pregnant but not marry her, the baby’s not a lot better off than the other four girls he’s already got but doesn’t acknowledge. I think the guy’s a few barrels short of a brewery, if you ask me.”

  “A few barrels…what?” Tyler croaked.

  “Never mind.” Cole rolled his eyes. He tried to speak again, but his friend was laughing so hard Cole simply shook his head and hung up the phone.

  A sharp knock on the door alerted him that his most honored guest was probably about to be announced.

  “Master Cole, your guest has arrived.”

  “Thank you, Freddy. Make the bastard sweat for a few minutes, then show him in, will you?”

  “Yes, Master Cole.” The man nodded as he backed out of the room.

  “Oh, and one more thing.” Cole hid a grin behind the paper he was studying.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You are aware it’s my last name that is Masters, not my first?”

  “Yes sir, I am more than aware of that fact.”

  Cole lifted his gaze. They’d had this conversation a million times, but Freddy’s straight-faced answer was always the same. “Okay, just making sure.” He laughed out loud when the eighty-year-old man, who’d long ago become part of the family, made an abrupt turn on his heel and left the office, his shoes silent on the highly polished floor.

  Freddy was completely aware of Cole’s chosen lifestyle and sexual preferences. Sometimes he wondered if the man didn’t get a kick out of calling him Master, even though Cole’s tastes ran more to the pleasure of sharing a woman with Ty, than dominating.

  His smile faded as his eyes dropped to the contract on the desk in front of him. Andrew Wyatt was actually trying to pawn his daughter off to be bred by some stranger like an animal.

  He read the words again for about the fiftieth time, fighting both the nausea and the excitement warring inside him. On the one hand, his ego boosted to be chosen as a superiorWyatt’s word exactlymodel for DNA. On the other, it made him sick to think a father had absolutely no morals where his daughter was concerned.

  Tyler’s background check on Andrew Wyatt had turned up exactly what Cole had feared. He had no ulterior motives, the bastard simply wanted to buy his sperm.

  And what must Brianna be thinking? Were they both in on it? Did she know about him and what he liked? Did Wyatt know there was a chance any child born to his daughter might not be a Masters? Obviously not or Andrew wouldn’t be contemplating this ridiculous scheme in the first place. Tyler was doing a fantastic job of keeping any number of rumors about them to just that. Rumors.

  The door opened with a click and Cole stood and looked up dispassionately.

  “Aah, Cole. Good to see you.”

  I wouldn’t say the same.

  Andrew Wyatt was dressed to impress in an Armani suit. Cole nearly laughed, as Wyatt took in his own mode of dress. Faded blue jeans, white T-shirt, and tennis shoes. A sharp contrast to the plush surroundings. The man’s steps faltered.

  “If you need more time to get ready, we can keep waiting.”

  Cole spread his arms. “You don’t like what I’m wearing?” He sat back down, slouching in his chair, epitomizing the exact opposite of what a wealthy businessman should. Fuck him. He didn’t owe this man anything, including respect. Wyatt didn’t deserve any, either, whoring his daughter for the sake of an heir.

  Wyatt’s chin lifted. “It’s not exactly appropriate for a business meeting.”

  Cole’s nostrils flared along with his anger. “What business? You’ve come to my home, on Sunday, my day off, to offer your daughter like some sacrificial lamb.” A whistling, wheezing noise caught Cole’s attention. “What is that?”

  Wyatt shifted and Cole glimpsed a small figure struggling behind him. He rose very slowly, counted to ten, and willed himself not to explode.

  “Shut up, you imbecile,” Wyatt snarled. The whistling grew louder.

  Cole rounded his desk to get a better look, his anger growing by the second, praying the bastard had not brought his daughter along for this meeting. There could be no greater mortification. Unless she was into this sort of thing, which Cole doubted by the way she was shaking.

  Wyatt’s shoulder jerked rhythmically with each tug on his hand. The closer Cole got to him, the more Wyatt turned to shield the woman behind him. Cole feigned one direction, then darted to the other, successfully dodging behind the older man.