Sweet Revenge

By Miranda McBain

Haunted by their once-in-a-lifetime love, Giana DeMarco and Clayton Sinclair must overcome the conflict of heartache and pain of their past before these two special lovers are given the miracle of a second chance at love. But family loyalties and fateful events all conspire against them, leaving tensions building as bittersweet memories of their past threaten to destroy a love that was destined to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 30, 2000
• ISBN: 9781469713762

Miranda McBain

Miranda McBain is a native Floridian who attended the University of South Florida, where she majored in accounting and economics. Her first true love has always been the romance genre where she has written several love stories in her free time. She is currently working on another Florida based romance with the fairy tale endings she loves to write.

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All Rights Reserved © 2000 by Miranda McBain

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

Writers Club Press an imprint of iUniverse.com, Inc.

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ISBN: 0-595-13465-3

ISBN: 978-1-4697-1376-2 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

About The Author

With loving thanks to my husband and daughters for their constant faith, immeasurable support, and especially their incredible patience which allowed my dream to come true.

CHAPTER 1 

The beep of the cellular phone was insistent and sharp, transgressing the silence of the luxurious Tokyo hotel suite. His concentration broken, Clayton Sinclair’s raven head shifted momentarily toward the sound.

For countless seconds, there was a ruthlessness to his silver stare that reflected the raw, harsh power which emanated from his nude body. Vaguely he realized that the dawn was approaching, its first rays of sunlight filtering through the heavy draperies across the suite.

Even in the darkened room, nothing could disguise the fact that his body was like that of a pagan sculpture, overwhelmingly male. Virile. Dark hair dusted across his chest, narrowing into a line down the center of his lean, muscular body. More dark hair covered his long, powerful legs, emphasizing his athletic build, the potency of the industrial tycoon who had risen out of the ashes of his impoverished childhood to become one of the wealthiest men in the world.

A few pulsebeats more, and his mind was still not sufficiently distracted from the carnal urges possessing him. He decided to ignore whoever was calling and concentrate again on the sensuous Japanese beauty who was writhing beneath him.

I need you, Clay, the slender brunette whimpered, her breathless cry compelling him to temporarily forget just who might be calling him on his private number. Her small hands at the base of his spine urged him forward, encouraging him to thrust deeply into her welcoming heat. He slowly withdrew almost to the point of leaving her hot sheath, torturing her sensuous body a mere second before plunging deeply into her again. A cry broke from her lips as her dark eyes locked on the powerful man above her.

And was that what you needed, Mariko? he asked in a deep voice. There was a cynical smile on his sensuous lips as he slowly withdrew from her body.

You know it is, she purred, her hands gripping his buttocks as her hips rose to meet his, offering to him the fire between her thighs.

Clay groaned, his penis swelling further. In the back of his mind, he noted that the phone had finally become silent. But the same could not be said of the provocative woman arousing him even more with her urgent cries. He felt quite certain that it had been Gil Williamson who was trying to contact him and would do so again within the next few minutes. So it would appear that there was a need for haste with the sexy Mariko, he decided wryly, shifting his body and sliding his rigid penis into her scorching heat with a groan.

It has been too long since we did this, Mariko, he said in a husky voice. Her silken thighs were locked around his waist exerting a fierce pressure that was encouraging him to delve even deeper into her sweetness.

Your fault, she chastised him in a throaty voice. She clung to him with a feverish strength, so close to reaching the incredible ecstasy that his tantalizing body offered hers.

How so?

You spend entirely too much of your time jetting between the U.S. and England, darling, when Tokyo has so much more to offer.

Mariko pouted her pink lips, watching as he tilted his head, raised his brows and stared at her.

What more does Tokyo have to offer me, Mariko? His smile was wolfish, but suddenly there was a watchfulness in him that intensified with every heartbeat. Like you, for instance?

Why not me? Mariko murmured without the slightest hesitation, her crimson fingernails digging savagely into his buttocks.

Dark eyes narrowed with irritation. Their affair had begun well over a year ago when Clayton Sinclair first came to Tokyo to conduct his business. And as far as she was concerned, it had been lust at first sight for both of them. The sex with him was fantastic: Clayton Edward Sinclair was an insatiable lover. Yet Mariko wanted more from him than great sex. She wanted it all! But to her growing frustration, sex was all he wanted from her. And apparently all that he wanted from any woman if she read him correctly.

And it certainly didn’t help her purpose knowing that each time Clay left her bed he promptly fell into someone else’s. She had spent the last three months jealously devouring headlines about Clayton Edward Sinclair’s latest sexual exploits in all of those fucking sleazy tabloids. The press appeared to have as much interest in Clay’s feminine conquests as it did in his corporate successes. She knew that he was spotted in London with some voluptuous actress on his arm, and the story about him in L.A. had an anorexic model hanging all over his gorgeous body. And Mariko Takeo, daughter to one of Japan’s foremost financiers, was the woman he spent his nights with when in Tokyo.

Beautiful women all over the world were as drawn to his magnificent face and body as they were to his billions. And, of course, there was the fact that this thirty-five year old man’s stamina in the bedroom was legendary. Hell, they had been screwing each other since yesterday afternoon, and Clay still didn’t seem to get enough of her. What woman in her right mind wouldn’t kill for a man like Clayton Edward Sinclair as her lover?

Stay with me, darling, she murmured. Mariko firmly believed that she was the only woman who could totally satisfy Clayton Edward Sinclair in bed. She had the power and the brains to force some type of commitment from him. Those two sluts in London and L.A. were just to amuse him when Mariko wasn’t available to him. With a knowing smile, she deliberately tightened her feminine muscles around his engorged penis. Her lover’s answering groan was proof positive of just how much control she had over all six feet and four inches of Clayton Sinclair. Or at least she hoped that she did.

What a hot little bitch you are, Mariko, he growled into her ear.

All the more reason to take me with you when you leave Tokyo.

No. Not now. Not ever.

Why not?

Clay’s raven brows slashed upward over eyes so light a silver that they glittered like diamonds. His lips parted, showing straight, very white teeth.

We have an arrangement, Mariko. Two consenting adults with no strings attached. Remember?

But I want to be with you, Clay. Being with you whenever you come here isn’t enough for me any longer. I need more from you, darling.

Then I’ll buy you another diamond necklace. Healthy tanned skin shone over strong cheekbones and a square jaw. Despite the fact that their bodies were so intimately joined, the manner in which he regarded her with those extraordinary eyes was hypnotic in its intensity.

I want more.

There is no more he growled savagely at her. His lower lip was full, sensuous, regardless of the fact that he was snarling at her now. With a motion that defied the obvious arousal of his body, Clay withdrew from her with a hiss.

Sudden rage filled Mariko at his heartless words.

Am I just another good fuck to you then? she demanded in an acidic tone, her exotic beauty suddenly marred by the scowl on her face. Is that all I mean to you, Clay?

Of course it is, Mariko, he replied with a deceptive softness. What else would you be, darling?

Bastard.

You’d be a fool to ever forget it, he drawled.

Once more Clay utilized those incredibly hypnotic eyes, the same ones he always used to gain the power to move anything and anyone to do his bidding. He glanced deliberately at the splendor of Mariko’s flushed body, the nipples on her small breasts that were tightened into aroused peaks. Slowly his eyes returned to her face.

You may be furious with me, Mariko, but your body still wants me.

Go fuck yourself.

Her heated response returned the wolfish smile to his lips. He found her reaction so typical of the calculating kind of female Mariko represented. He’d purchase her that blue diamond bracelet she admired yesterday, and poor Mariko would instantly forget all about her pique with him.

Ah, but I’d much rather fuck you, luv, he whispered, the coldness of his crisp British accent only serving to infuriate her further.

Must I beg?

That strictly depends on what you are begging me for, he replied, a sardonic twist to his lips.

More of your time, Clay, she retorted hotly.

Whatever for, darling? You appear to be wasting the time you have with me now.

Then why don’t you get the hell out of here? she spat.

Clay cruelly tangled his fingers in her long black hair, and Mariko was unable to control her cry of sudden terror. Fear. Control. It was what Clayton Edward Sinclair was all about. He was showing her that the control was absolutely his. This handsome British gentleman excelled at intimidation in all forms, always using it to his advantage. She had been very stupid to forget his ruthlessness even for an instant.

Is that really what you want me to do, Mariko? he asked silkily. Are you certain that is all you want from me? Be sure of your answer, luv, because I have already become extremely bored with this conversation of ours.

Having made his point swiftly, Clay noticed the pout had quickly returned to Mariko’s pink lips. His own lips tightened. As nervous as he apparently made her, deep down she was aware that losing her access to Clayton Sinclair and all he represented was not something she would ever dare to risk. Especially since he had so many other willing females in his repertoire. It was no secret that he staunchly steered clear of emotional commitment when it came to the selection of his lovers. Mariko knew that. He made certain that they all did, didn’t he? Because only once in his life had he been reckless enough to open his heart to another such calculating femme fatale. No more Giana DeMarcos for him. Ever.

I’m so sorry, darling, Mariko whispered huskily, the expected amount of contrition lacing her tone. His presence over her body was like a wildfire burning out of control. Mariko’s dark brows arched in eager supplication. Don’t you still want me?

Hell, yes,he still wanted her! Clay thought wryly. Mariko Takeo was a great fuck. No other woman in his memory had brought him such carnal pleasure, at least not since that cunning little bitch who betrayed him years ago. Clay closed his eyes momentarily at the bitter memory. No! his mind raged. You have managed to put her from your mind for nearly four years now. Forget you ever laid eyes on Giana DeMarco. Her memory is a weakness you cannot afford.

Of course, I do, luv, he assured her, his wolfish smile not reaching the mesmerizing silver of his eyes. Clay set the driving motion of his lower body into action, thrusting savagely into the slender woman beneath him. As Mariko’s scream of pleasure reverberated through the hotel suite, Clay felt her convulsions along the ultra sensitive pulsing along his penis.

Kiss me, darling, Mariko cried out, momentarily forgetting that kissing was the only thing forbidden to her in their loveplay. Kiss me, she moaned again.

Clay callously ignored her pleas. Mariko was aware of his rules. All of his women were. He never kissed the women he fucked. Period. Kissing to him felt too intimate. Too much reminiscent of Giana.

As Mariko’s sleek body strained against his, Clay forced Giana DeMarco from his mind and drove into Mariko again and again until he felt his own climax nearing. Arching his back, he silently poured himself into the woman beneath him, a woman who was just another in a long line of willing feminine receptacles for his passion. Gritting his teeth against bittersweet memories that hovered at the edge of his sanity again, Clay concentrated instead on trying to restore precious air to his lungs. His chest rose and fell steadily, his muscular body sheened in perspiration. At the exact moment his breathing returned to normal, the cell phone began to beep again.

With his warm breath against her mouth, he said, I have to get that this time, Mariko. Go take a shower while I’m taking this call.

The fact that it was an order rather than a request didn’t provoke Mariko’s temper at all. She was astute enough to realize that she had pushed Clay too hard and too fast already. No, whatever he had to discuss on the telephone in private couldn’t concern her in the least as long as he still wanted her in his bed. And he did if his provocative expression was any indication.

Sure, she breathed, thoroughly sated from his exquisite lovemaking. As soon as Clay rolled off of her and reached for the cell phone on the table beside the bed, she strolled to the bathroom and closed the door softly behind her.

Sinclair here.

Am I calling at a more convenient time? a deep voice inquired sardonically at the other end.

Clay glanced briefly at the closed bathroom door before responding. Your timing, as usual, he said dryly, is perfect.

Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise with the enticing Mariko?

Nothing to lose any sleep over, Gil.

And here I thought that this one was special, Gil snickered.

None of them are that special, chap. You know that yourself. Clay inhaled and exhaled. "What is so urgent, Gil?

How’s it going with Mr. Hiroshi and the Japanese conglomerate? Gil asked instead. Is Sinclair Industries finally going to get that little island paradise of theirs in the Caribbean?

What do you think?

Oh, I’d say it’s a done deal, Gil chuckled. I’ve never known you to lose anything you go after, Clay.

Ah, but you don’t know that once I lost something I wanted very badly, my friend, Clay recalled with rancor. Ferociously Clay forced those excruciating memories aside.

Why did you really call? he snarled into the phone.

Gil’s light blue eyes had narrowed instantly at Clay’s hostile tone. Gil Williamson had been with Clayton Sinclair since the beginning of his dynamic rise to wealth and power. He knew that Clayton Sinclair trusted no one more than he trusted Gil. The blond giant had proven his competence and loyalty to Clay time after time throughout the years. Gil could even claim the dubious honor of being one of the few who could call himself friend to Clayton Edward Sinclair.

Are you all right, Clay?

Just fucking wonderful, he gritted out. What do you want?

Gil decided it would be more prudent on his part to simply ignore Clay’s hostility. Especially since his friend obviously had no inclination to discuss the matter further.

A situation of a delicate nature has just occurred, and I need you back here to deal with it. Pronto.

Handle it yourself, Gil. It is what I pay you hundreds of thousands of dollars a year to do for me, you know, Clay snapped.

Yes, Clay. There is no need to remind me, Gil shot back. He knew that he was one of only a handful who could use that aggressive tone with Sinclair. Look, if I did not believe your presence here was needed, I would never have called you. Give me a break here, Clay.

All right, Gil. Enough said about that. Spit it out. Why is my presence needed right now at the London office? This had better be good.

Sweet Revenge.

What? What the hell does that mean, Gil? I assure you that I have precious little time to waste playing word games with you. Is there a crisis going on there or not? Clay growled over the cell phone.

Clay, don’t you read any of the memos I send to you? Gil said curtly, exasperated.

No. That’s something else I pay you to do for me, Gil. Take care of business while I am abroad conducting these multimillion dollar business deals which, by the way, help pay for that salary of yours.

Dammit, Clay. If you did not read any of those fucking memos, you should have at least read this one in particular. We have a lot riding on this deal, my friend. And if the negotiations go to hell on it, Sinclair Industries stands to lose a lot in the process.

How much? The derision in his voice was cutting. Clay did not like to lose anything. Especially profits.

Gil felt his anger rise like mercury in August.

You really have no idea what Sweet Revenge is, Clay, do you?

And on the other end of the line, Clayton Sinclair’s silver eyes glittered.

Why don’t you just tell me what it is, Clay suggested to Gil in a silky voice. You’ve got exactly 30 seconds in which to do so before I simply hang up on you.

Shit.

You now have 29 seconds, Gil. Ready to talk yet?

Sweet Revenge is the name of the classy restaurant that we’re building in Palm Beach, Clay, Gil said through his teeth. Jesus, I can’t believe you don’t even know the name of the restaurant that Sinclair just dropped $30 million to build there!

20 seconds left, Gil.

Gil grunted at that.

We have a serious problem here, Clay. Construction has already begun on the restaurant.

I don’t see your problem, Clay asked, frowning into the phone.

You will shortly, Gil said sharply. Sinclair’s contractors have already broken ground on the site for our new $30 million restaurant.

And? Only a suicidal fool would have mistaken Clay’s tone for boredom at this point.

Gil sighed. We apparently don’t even own the property free and clear yet, Clay. There has been a major screw-up.

More silence on the other end of the line. The expected blast was not long in coming.

How in the hell did that happen, Gil? Only a novice in this business would allow something of that magnitude to occur! Clay exploded.

Yes, well, that is one reason for it to happen. Unfortunately for us, there is also another reason.

And what is that? Clay hissed.

The untimely death of the seller.

More silence on the other end of the line.

Who was the seller?

Giana, Ltd. Gil informed him. We were trying to keep our construction costs down in this deal. Since it was supposed to be a simple closing that remained on the property, the old man agreed to let us begin construction beforehand. His nephew had all the contracts drawn up and ready to execute. Everything had been going along fine up until yesterday when Mr. DeMarco died of a heart attack. Dammit, Clay, we were set to go to closing this morning on this.

A longer silence from the other end this time.

Clay, are you there?

I’m still here, Gil. Clay’s voice had grown strangely hoarse. Who’s running Giana, Ltd. now that Mr. DeMarco is gone?

Good question, Gil snickered with scorn. At the moment, the only one in charge of Giana, Ltd. is that incompetent nephew of his. A major creep if you ask me. He’s the same one who drew up the sale contract. Remember?

Yes. I remember.

But maybe there’s still a chance we can save our asses yet, Gil added after a moment. DeMarco’s attorney told me this morning that his office was trying to locate the daughter, Giana DeMarco. Apparently, the old man left the entire company to her.

To Giana? Clay’s voice faltered.

Yes. With the exception of his nephew, Tony Diaz, the daughter is his only living relative.

Wasn’t there a son? Clay paused, massaging his temple. Justin, right? Yes, that was his name. Justin DeMarco.

DeMarco’s son is dead. The guy got himself killed at Daytona about four years ago. Racing was a hobby of his. A fatal one apparently.

Does this Tony Diaz have the authority to close on the sale without Giana DeMarco’s signature?

Hell if I know, Clay, Gil said bluntly. I don’t think Daniel DeMarco knew what he was doing if you ask me. He took his son’s death really hard. At one time, that was one hell of a brilliant businessman. Everyone in the industry used to respect DeMarco. You know that.

Yes, I do, but that was a very long time ago. Something happened to his integrity long before even I had dealings with him. What was it?

Tony Diaz is what happened to him if you ask me. That guy is a snake, Clay. A real bastard. And now with his uncle dead, Diaz won’t stop until he’s run Giana, Ltd. into the ground. What a waste, Gil said with genuine regret.

For the past ten years, Gil had taken pleasure in watching Giana, Ltd. grow from a small, family-owned real estate developer into an internationally recognized company.

The daughter, Giana, Clay rasped thickly, where is she now? His left hand clenched tightly around the cell phone.

New Zealand at the moment. Ms. DeMarco made her home there about four years ago. Right after Justin was killed, I understand. Heard she took his death really hard. One day she was vice president of Giana, Ltd. and the next day she was gone. Just like that…poof!

Do you know why?

Yes. According to her father’s attorney, Giana and DeMarco had a falling out over how Giana, Ltd. was being run, Gil explained thoughtfully. But I’m surprised you don’t already know about all this, Clay. Wasn’t that around the time you and Daniel DeMarco were both vying to purchase Stewart Mountain from the Dundees in North Carolina?

Yes. It was.

No, wait. I recall it now. Your dealings with DeMarco occurred just before Justin was killed, right?

Tell me about Giana DeMarco, Clay ordered tersely, deliberately ignoring Gil’s question.

Well, I know that the lady is a recognized geophysicist in New Zealand. Unexpectedly Gil began to laugh. A real tough lady, too, from what I gathered about her. Giana left our exciting world of real estate and started her own successful company down there. And get this. She didn’t accept a dime from her father either. Giana DeMarco started it all from scratch and paid the price from what I heard. Some of my contacts in Auckland informed me that she went through some really tough financial setbacks in the beginning. Can you imagine a debutante like her doing something as risky as that?

I take it she was successful?

Quite successful. Her consulting business there is sky rocketing today. And get this. Despite her success, she still chooses to live a modest lifestyle. My sources say that Giana has a small, conservative apartment in Auckland.

How nice, Clay snickered with disdain. Dear Giana’s rise to riches sounds just a little like my own.

That’s why I thought you would appreciate hearing her story, Clay. She seems to be as tenacious as you were in the beginning.

I sincerely doubt that, chap. Certainly her old man made sure she didn’t go without for too long. As you are well aware, spoiled debutante types like Ms. DeMarco are not big on self-sacrifice.

This one was, Clay. I have it on good authority that she broke all family ties when she left Florida

Then you are saying that she wasn’t in contact with her family all this time? Not even her precious father? Clay murmured in surprise. Interesting.

As far as I can tell, the lady has had no contact whatsoever with her father in the last four years.

Incredible.

You got that right, chap.

I beg your pardon?

Giana DeMarco. I was referring to her, Clay, Gil clarified for him with a lusty chuckle. I happened to see a portrait of her in the corridor when I was meeting at Giana Ltd. a few weeks ago. She was a real beauty back then. Can’t help but wonder what she looks like now. A real hot lady I’d dare to guess

Clay’s voice became deadly soft.Take care, my friend. Beauty like hers can also be quite deceptive when your back is turned.

Then I’ll simply have to take my chances, won’t I, Gil laughed, choosing to disregard the implied warning. Besides, chap, turning my back on that Sicilian angel will be the very last thing on my mind, I assure you. I daresay things would be much more interesting if sweet Giana and I were chest to chest, thigh to thigh.

It should not have happened, but it did. Rage that Clay had managed to suppress for four long years exploded within him, a searing passion that should have died long ago. Along with his feelings for Giana.

Wrong, Gil, he said through tightly clenched teeth. Stay the fuck away from her

And why would I want to do that? Gil challenged him. What is your problem, by the way?

At the moment, you are.

Come off it, Clay. What’s it to you if the lady and I get it on? Giana DeMarco isn’t your type of woman anyway. Is she?

Bingo, Clay responded with undisguised contempt. More truer words were never spoken.

That’s right. So remember it. You always seem to get off on those bulimic supermodel types anyway, he reminded him dryly. Besides getting underneath their skirts, what attracts you to all those anorexic looking women with not too much between their ears is beyond me. What do you do after the sex, carry on an intelligent conversation with yourself?

Your point? Clay asked, narrowing his silver eyes. He was now only barely able to control his notorious volatile temper.

My point is simply this: Giana DeMarco has nothing to interest you in the least, chap. My own eyes told me that her figure is magnificently lush. And my personal experience says, he added softly, that a hell of a lot of heavenly softness is available there for just the right man.

And you believe that you are that man? he growled.

Why not? Gil shot back with irritation. I’m the only one of us who gets turned on by females whose IQs are higher than two digits, remember?

And I use those women you refer to in order to satisfy my carnal urges, not to bear my children, Clay snarled into the receiver.

Amen to that, Gil said beneath his breath.

I’m warning you again. Stay away from Giana DeMarco. That particular woman will castrate you without a second thought.

And I’m willing to bet that I’d enjoy every single second of it, Gil countered, shaking his blond head in amazement. He sighed loudly, then closed his eyes, and leaned his head back on the chair. Listen, Clay, aren’t you taking this a bit hard? You almost sound jealous. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe you already know Giana DeMarco.

A long silence emanated from the other end of the line.

Clay, are you still there? He paused a fraction of a second before continuing. Are you all right?

Yes, Gil, I’m still here. And, he added, I’ve had better days. Although no longer antagonistic, there was an aloofness to his tone that Gil did not miss.

Look, if it bothers you so much about me coming on to Giana, I’ll forget about the entire thing. Just.

I’ve got to go now, Clay interrupted tersely. Keep me posted on what’s going on with Sweet Revenge. We need to close on that property a.s.a.p. His silver eyes flickered with some unnamed emotion. I should be finished with the negotiations here by tomorrow morning. I’ll take the first flight back to London.

Perfect. I’m going to need your expertise on this one, Clay. At the moment, Gil felt nothing but profound relief. Having Clay by his side when he traveled to Miami would cinch the deal. He only hoped that he’d be able to stay away from Giana DeMarco as Clay obviously wanted him to.

Oh, there’s absolutely no doubt about you needing my expertise to fix this disaster of yours, Gil. The problem is, my presence there may actually complicate matters more than they need to be.

How so? Gil asked him in confusion. What are you referring to?

Two words: Giana DeMarco.

You’ve lost me. What about her?

Then I shall explain it to you. You see, my friend, I have already had the pleasure of fucking Ms. Giana DeMarco. Four years ago to be precise. And our parting, shall we say, was less than amicable.

Son of a bitch! Gil cursed in disbelief, slamming his fist down hard on his desk. Papers instantly scattered across the room. Why didn’t you tell me this from the beginning? he raged, continuing on without waiting for a response. Shit! What are the odds of this happening to me? This is simply fucking unbelievable.

Believe it.

Is there any chance that Giana could have forgotten how the two of you parted?

None whatsoever.

Anything you might do at this late date to pacify her?

Gil, you should know that I have no intention of attempting to pacify Giana. Not even for $30 million.

Well, then, Gil said with more calm than he felt, it appears that we are the ones who are fucked. Royally.

Probably.

I’ll have everything ready for your review when you arrive here.

Clayton Edward Sinclair disconnected the call without another word. It was time to finalize his negotiations with the Japanese and return to London.

Several hours later, Clay’s destination was the executive offices on the 30th floor of the hotel. He stepped into the elevator in the lobby, pressed the number 30 on the panel, and moved to the rear. Then he leaned his head back against the cool metal, remembering the woman who had broken his heart.

Giana DeMarco. Clay had never really forgotten her. Not even after four long years and the countless beautiful women who came after her. Gil was correct in his assessment of the other women who followed after Giana. There were indeed so many unimpressive females in his life. And always only one Giana.

What a shock it had been for him to learn from Gil that Giana had moved to New Zealand. She had been there for four years. And all this time Clay had believed she was still living in Florida with her family, helping dear old dad to run the family business in Miami.

Giana, Ltd. The family-owned business that had brought Giana Kelly DeMarco and Clayton Edward Sinclair together over four years ago. The same Giana, Ltd. that had doomed their relationship to destruction before it was ever given a chance to thrive.

There was a time when he believed that Giana Kelly DeMarco was going to be that special woman for him. God, what a fucking jackass he had been to ever think that! Clayton Edward Sinclair, one of the wealthiest men in the world, one of the most sought after bachelors everywhere, had foolishly believed that he had finally met the only woman for him. The only woman he cared enough about to want to marry. He had loved her with all of his heart, goddammit!

But he had been wrong about Giana, hadn’t he? If only he had known that she had the instincts of a shark. Just like him. God, so very much like him. Giana had used him ruthlessly. Him…the self-made billionaire who chewed people up and spit them out without a second thought. Clayton Edward Sinclair was supposed to be the ultimate user. The Predator. And this slip of a woman, this Giana Kelly DeMarco, had shown him otherwise with her betrayal.

Memories of their volatile past together assailed him. Clay had learned to despise Giana DeMarco four years ago when she deceived him. And that conniving little bitch meant nothing to him now. Less than nothing, right?

But if that were true, why, then, did he find himself suddenly wondering what he honestly felt for Giana after all this time? his mind raged. He wanted, and a part of him needed, to know the true reason why Giana left Giana, Ltd. to begin her life anew in New Zealand. Was there more to her story than appeared on the surface? Did she ever mourn the loss of their love as much as he did? Did Giana ever really love him, or was that really a lie as well?

Suddenly, all the predator instincts in his nature came to life. The truth he could no longer deny to himself was that he had never since been so genuinely intrigued by another woman. He never thought to ever see her beautiful face again, but that was about to change very soon. Behind his lids, those silver eyes began to burn, allowing the painful memories of their turbulent past to overwhelm him once more. Oh, Giana, why did you, of all women, have to betray me like you did?

CHAPTER 2 

You’re so bloody beautiful, he breathed, his voice a silken caress. Clay’s warm lips nuzzled the soft nape of Kelly’s neck, traveling lightly up that slender neck and across her jawline until he reached her mouth. Kiss me, sweet Kelly. Open your mouth for me, my love.

Clay’s hands moved down her arms to her waist and he pulled her closer to him until their bodies were pressed tightly together. Kelly’s large tawny eyes were mesmerized by his lips, hypnotized by their subtle movement.

The heat of his voice was like a silken tongue stroking her sensitive nerves. She shivered with pleasure and eagerly sought his mouth with her own. Clay met and matched her kiss, teased and encouraged, savored the unique sweetness that was hers alone. His lips and tongue moved over hers, making her forget everything but the restrained power of the man who held her so tenderly.

As it had been from the very first, their kiss was a sensual awakening that drove all coherent thought from her mind, urging her into giving herself completely to Clay’s hot, deep kiss. She couldn’t seem to get close enough to him, couldn’t hold him tight enough in her arms as she pressed herself against his chest, melting against his tall form.

God, you taste good, her husky voice murmured.

So do you, he whispered back, his white teeth nipping at her bottom lip. Good enough to eat, my love.

Mmmm, she said, caressing him with sinuous movements of her body. She remembered back to this morning, his dark head between her thighs, the exquisite feel of his tongue caressing her so intimately, making her tremble against the full length of him.

Because Clay vividly recalled that exquisite lovemaking as well, he groaned deep in his chest and pushed his erection between her legs. Her instinctive response was a reckless, shifting movement of her hips against his that caused Clay to shudder with need. He wanted this woman so badly that the temptation to slide deep inside her was overwhelming in its intensity. His large hands shook as incredible desire ripped through him. Kelly moaned as he bent his dark head then, tasting the creamy skin of her bare shoulder. The straps of her turquoise sundress slid effortlessly down her arms. Clay chuckled huskily, brushing her long auburn hair out of the way and then smoothing the straps of the sundress even lower with his hands.

Do you realize that I’m in love with you, sweet Kelly? he murmured raggedly.

Before she could respond to his hoarse confession, he took her lips again. She closed her eyes, reveling in his gentleness, his possessiveness, as his tongue pushed past her lips, withdrew, and then thrust again. The subtle, sensual reminder of what his tantalizing body did to hers when they were both naked was suddenly too much, too overpowering. It was the same each time his powerful body penetrated hers with such pleasurable force. Heat pulsed through her with each sweet motion of