LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

       Cover

       Introduction

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

       Family Tree

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Extract

       Copyright

       One

      The Robin Hoods of this world were Becca’s heroes. As she watched Jack Reed strike a noble pose then draw back and release an arrow that hit dead center of his target, the irony wasn’t lost on her.

      Jack Reed was no Robin Hood. He was anathema to everything she stood for. To every living, breathing thing she believed in. Beyond all else, people ought to give back—even sacrifice—to support others who need help. Some mistook that level of compassion for weakness, but Becca was far from easy prey.

      Looking GQ-hot in jeans and a white button-down, cuffs folded back on strong forearms, Reed lowered the bow and focused on his guest. The slant of his mouth was so subtle and self-assured, Becca’s palm itched to slap the smirk off his face. She might have done it, too, if she thought it’d shake him up some. But it was said displays of true emotion only amused him.

      Jack Reed owned a property in his hometown of Cheyenne, Wyoming, as well as two residences here in L.A.: an ultramodern penthouse apartment in a downtown high-rise building that he’d purchased as well as this spectacular Beverly Hills estate. With a quiver slung across his broad back, he sauntered over the manicured lawn to meet her. Although he was expecting her visit, Becca doubted he would welcome what she had to say.

      She introduced herself. “Becca Stevens, director of the Lassiter Charity Foundation.” She nodded at the target. “A perfect bull’s-eye. Well done.”

      “I took up archery in college,” he said in a voice so deep and darkly honeyed, the tone was almost hypnotic. “I try to squeeze some practice in every week.”

      “Difficult with your schedule, I imagine.” All that dismantling of companies and banking the proceeds had to take up oodles of time. “I appreciate you seeing me.”

      His smile, designed to disarm, got bigger. “Any friend of J.D.’s is a friend of mine.”

      “If J. D. Lassiter were alive, he might not count you as a friend at the moment.”

      The smile widened more. “Straight for the jugular, Ms. Stevens?”

      Given Jack Reed was a highly successful corporate raider, he ought to be used to the approach. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

      “I only want to help Angelica Lassiter reclaim what she rightly deserves.”

      Becca let out a humorless laugh and then sighed. “Ah, sorry. Just the idea of someone like you being in any way self-sacrificing...”

      His gaze sharpened. “Angelica was J.D.’s only child.”

      “You’re forgetting Sage and Dylan.”

      “They are Ellie Lassiter’s orphaned nephews, adopted after J.D. and Ellie had been told by doctors—”

      “I know the background, Jack.”

      “Then you’ll also know that Angelica, J.D.’s own flesh and blood, was his favorite—that he’d entrusted her with the running of Lassiter Media those crucial months before his death. It makes no sense that his will should insult her with a paltry ten percent while controlling voting interest of J.D.’s multibillion-dollar company goes to Angelica’s ex-fiancé—” Jack paused for effect “—even if J.D. had handpicked Evan McCain for his daughter.”

      “J.D. might

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