LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER FIVE

       Ajax

      I SAT BACK in my chair on the big stone terrace that looked out over the sea, nursing an espresso. The sun was warm on my face, the ocean busy throwing itself against the rocks below the house I’d claimed after Dad had gone to jail.

      Last night I’d shown Imogen to the bedroom I’d set aside for her and she’d gone quietly, without peppering me with any more questions.

      Satisfied she was secure for the night, I’d then sent texts to my two brothers, telling them that I wouldn’t be around for a week or so and that they were to handle any emergencies that might crop up.

      Luckily their personal lives had settled down recently with two lovely women keeping them on the straight and narrow. God knows it was about time someone other than me stayed on top of things, and I was appreciative.

      It certainly helped me now when I had to concentrate all my attention on a lovely woman of my own.

      A strangely fascinating young woman, who was not in any way what I’d anticipated.

      The virgin part, yes. The questions and the excitement and the sheer vibrating energy of her, not so much.

      I hoped that wouldn’t become a problem.

      But that was an issue for later. First I had to contact White, let him know I had Imogen, and deliver my ultimatum.

      I picked up my phone and pressed a button, waiting until the contact I’d been given answered the call.

      ‘Yeah, who is this?’ It was one of White’s thugs.

      ‘Ajax King,’ I said curtly. ‘Tell your boss I have his daughter. If he wants to see her safe and sound, get him to call me at this number.’

      I didn’t wait for a response, cutting the call then putting the phone back down on the table and ignoring it as it began to ring almost immediately.

      I wasn’t going to answer him right away. He could stew for a couple of hours.

      Glancing down at my watch, I checked the time.

      Nine-thirty in the morning.

      Jesus Christ, just how long was Imogen going to sleep?

      Kidnapped women were not supposed to have long lie-ins when their captors were waiting to inform them of the rules of their captivity.

      In spite of my satisfaction with how easily my plan had come together, a thread of annoyance wound through me.

      I couldn’t believe how unafraid of me she’d been in the van last night, even when I’d deliberately been explicit, thinking that would scare the shit out of her.

      But the bloody woman only seemed to find that even more exciting. And then she’d touched me, laid those delicate little fingers on my chest, pressing lightly, feeling me.

      As if she had no idea about the chemistry flaring between us.

      As if I was no fucking threat to her at all.

      That touch shouldn’t have affected me in the slightest.

      But it had.

      Given that, I shouldn’t have kissed her and Christ knew why I had. Perhaps it was simply the way she’d looked at me, as if she’d never seen anything so fascinating in all her life, and then the assumption that I didn’t want her, like she’d be disappointed if I didn’t...

       Nice justifications. You just wanted her.

      But since when had what I wanted ever mattered?

      Except her lips had been as soft as I’d known they would be, and she’d smelled of something sweet, something that had made my heart twist inside my chest. Roses. My mother’s favourite flower.

      Ah, fuck, what was wrong with me? It was just a kiss from a wide-eyed virgin. Nothing to get wound up about.

      Whatever my own feelings on the subject, though, one thing was clear: her virginity was the only leverage I had and so it had to remain intact.

      I had to stay focused on my end game, because that was all that mattered.

       Even if some other things get broken?

      Yes, even then. Years ago, I’d had to stand by while my middle brother, Leon, had been kidnapped and tortured at the hands of my father’s enemies, and let my youngest brother, Xander, be used as some kind of evil financial genius to grow Dad’s empire.

      That was my fault, my responsibility.

      But my goal had always been to take Dad down, to save my city, and that outweighed everything. Even if it meant pretending I was on board with everything Dad did, no matter how it had sickened me.

      The end justified any means.

      And even now that end had been accomplished, the story wasn’t done. We still had enemies. And I would keep protecting my brothers.

      I’d do the hard things so that no one else had to.

      I sipped my coffee, gazing out at the sea, white-capped and with a few boats sailing here and there. It was a peaceful view and one I’d always loved when I was a kid, imagining I could just get in one of those boats and sail the fuck away, escape my father and his legacy for good.

      A dream.

      Despite the small yacht I kept in the boathouse at the foot of the cliffs, I’d never escaped and I was never going to.

      Dad might be in jail, but he wasn’t the only one with a life sentence. That was fine, though. It was something I’d accepted long ago.

      I glanced down to check the time again.

      Quarter to ten.

      Time for my prisoner to get the hell up.

      I put my coffee down on the table and went back into the house, making my way into the wing that had once housed my stepsister and Dad’s second wife, and which I’d had renovated as guest quarters.

      There was room enough to house an entire football team, though right now there was only the one occupant.

      The unexpected little virgin I’d kidnapped the night before.

      I strode down the hall that ran the length of the wing, the polished floorboards

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