#Book Blitz #Current of Darkness by Robert Brighton #Historical Mystery @Xpresso Book Tours19/3/2024
Current of Darkness
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble -- ALICIA MAKES AN OMELET Excerpted from Current of Darkness: Desire & Deceit in the Gilded Age A Novel by Robert Brighton When Alicia got back to the front door of Miller Envelope Company, damned if the thing wasn’t unlocked. She jerked the door open and saw none other than her Majority Owner, Howie Gaines, crossing the lobby, his foot almost to the first tread of the staircase. “Howie!” she called, and he turned. “Mrs. Miller,” he said. “I hope you weren’t waiting. I usually get here early.” “We’ll talk about that in a minute,” she said. “But you need to come with me first.” He returned to the front door. “What’s wrong?” he said. “Follow me,” she said, crooking a finger. Together they walked along the Division Street side of the building and back to the loading dock area. The cigarette smoker was sitting on the loading dock again, smoking another cigarette. When he spied Gaines, he stubbed out his smoke and jumped down. “Mr. Gaines,” he said. “Good morning.” “Shevlin,” Gaines said. “Good morning to you.” “Go get those other two men who were with you just now,” Allie said to Shevlin, waving the back of her hand in his direction. He eyed her and then glanced at Gaines, who nodded. Shevlin hopped up on the loading dock, still trailing smoke, and went into the depths of the factory, and reemerged with the lanky man and the other one in tow. “What is this all about?” Gaines asked Alicia. “Teaching a lesson,” she said as the two men shuffled onto the dock with Shevlin. Allie looked up at them. “Who are these men?” she said to Howie, who stood by looking puzzled. “Utz, on the left, and Kiesler. They’re two of our best delivery men.” “Mr. Shevlin, Mr. Utz, Mr. Kiesler,” Alicia said. “We weren’t properly introduced earlier. I’m Alicia Hall Miller. Miller as in Miller Envelope. You must know it—it’s your employer.” The three men could almost be heard to swallow audibly. The lanky man, Kiesler, who seemed to occupy a leadership role, cleared his throat. “We’re sorry, ma’am, about . . . earlier. Didn’t know who you were.” “I see,” Alicia said. “You’re sorry, then.” “Yes, ma’am,” Kiesler said. “And you two? Are you sorry, as well?” Utz and Shevlin nodded, somewhat sheepishly, mumbling assent. “Well, good. Thank you for that,” she said. “Now, guess what else you are? In addition to ‘sorry’?” The men looked back at her blankly. “You’re fired,” she said. “All three of you. Right now. Go collect whatever shit you have in your lockers and get out.” She looked at her watch. “You have precisely two minutes to leave my property. If you don’t, you’ll wish you had. The chief of police owes me at least one favor.” Gaines touched her arm. “Mrs. Miller,” he said under his breath, “a word?” “What do you want?” she said, jerking her arm away. “These men were insufferably rude to me just a few minutes ago.” “You can’t hire and fire people,” Howie said quietly, his face quite crimson. “You’re a minority owner. You don’t have the authority to—” “I won’t make a habit of it, Gaines,” she said, “but I just did fire them, and fired they will remain. Now do not challenge me on this, or we’re going to have a very bad first day together.” The three men were looking at Gaines and Alicia’s little sidebar conference. Gaines turned back to them. “You heard her,” he said. “You’re dismissed.” The men muttered a few choice words and disappeared into the building to collect their belongings. Allie and Gaines trudged back to the front entrance. “Those are—were—three of our best workers, you know,” he said to her as they mounted the staircase inside. “Do you know how difficult it is to replace good laborers?” “You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs,” she said. “And do you know how difficult it is to replace customers? I don’t want anyone who represents our company to treat anyone in the way I was treated. It’s simply not acceptable. They merely picked on the wrong person today, but my guess is that they’re rude to everyone. And they’re the ones driving around delivering our product? Gaines, we need pleasant, polite people meeting our customers, not surly bastards like those three. And they’re lazy. Smokers are all lazy. Every last goddamn one of them.” “Fine, fine,” Howie said, as they stood on the upper landing, outside their office. “I don’t disagree with you, but—” “Then don’t,” Alicia said. “Don’t say, ‘I don’t disagree with you,’ and then begin disagreeing with me. I absolutely loathethat sort of thing. It reminds me of visitors who drop by and, after a few minutes, consult their watches and say, ‘Well, I’d better let you get back to your more pressing matters,’ or some such horseshit. They’re the ones with pressing matters, and they want to blame me for it. If I have pressing matters, I say so.” Howie seemed perplexed. “Do you understand, Gaines? It’s a simile. I’m drawing a comparison, so that you can understand what your new business partner hates.” One corner of her mouth rippled up. “Yes, yes, I understand.” “Then you know what I would like to do? When you introduce me to the company today—the whole staff—I am going to emphasize that every person who works here is going to treat everyone as though he were a customer. Or she. Or they’ll be hitting the bricks, just like Shevlin and company.” “People aren’t going to like that,” he said, working the lock of their office door and putting his hand on the doorknob. “Isn’t that their hard luck. Oh, and by the way”—she put her hand over his on the knob—“these offices open at 7:30, sharp. Not 7:45, not between 7:35 and 7:30. We can’t expect anyone else to be punctual and attentive to their jobs if we’re not. People look at us and decide what they can get away with. We have excellent streetcars here in Buffalo, and broad sidewalks, and so there’s no cause to be late. None. Understand?” Howie smirked at her. “You will understand, Mrs. Miller, I don’t plan to be lectured by a minority owner—” “It’s Alicia,” she said. “Or just Miller. Like any other business partner. Not Mrs. Miller. I’m not calling you Mr. Gaines, you can depend on that.” “As you wish, Miller,” he said. “Now may I please go into my office?” “It’s our office, and yes, you may.” 
GIVEAWAY! --
Invocation
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks -- EXCERPT: The heat from the fires of Hell were burning my feet. I needed to close the portal, but I needed to get up to the other side before I did. And then there was a warmth—not like the burning heat from Hell—but something else—something soothing—and I knew what I had to do. I had to get rid of the tie. I couldn’t cut it—I’d tried that so many times—but I could shove it away. I could lessen its effects. I’d even burned it out once. If it worked before, it could work now. I blocked everything out except for the feeling of the tie that bound me to my father. It was always there—a leash of fire that wrapped around my body, my soul—thicker than any other tie I’d seen before on a living person. But it wasn’t just a demon-mortal tie. It was a father-daughter tie. The tie connecting us grew hotter, burning, and I focused everything I had on burning it out. I let my outrage fuel me. The outrage of how this monster--my father--had hunted me my whole life, tortured my mother, dragged me to Hell, and made it impossible for me to have any kind of innocent childhood. He’d robbed me over and over of everything good. Not this time. He wouldn’t win this time. He laughed. He actually laughed at me. “I gave you life. I gave you your powers. Just as I give, I can take it all away.” No. I didn’t believe that. And I wasn’t quitting. I wasn’t listening to him. Screw him. I pulled again, but it didn’t work. He started to say something about how I was a failure, but screw him. Screw failing. Screw everything but sending him back to Hell. But my mouth was dry and I wanted to throw up and my body was starting to feel weaker and my arms started to shake. An evil, deep rumbling noise had fear skittering along my skin. I was getting too tired, too quickly. And then it clicked. He wasn’t just controlling me. He was draining my strength through our tie. Fast. I had to be faster. Quickly, as quick as I could, I pictured the tie knotting and pulling tight, cutting off my father’s influence. I pictured it again—forcing my will on the tie. Knotted and pulled tight. Knotted and pulled tight. Slowly, with every knot, I felt my father’s control lessening. Just enough so that I could think and-- Where was Eli? That one thought broke through. It was a tiny crack, but it was enough. “Eli!” I screamed along the spiritual realm as loud and with as much force as I could. I tried to pull myself up, but my arms were too tired. The demons below me started screaming and moving faster. They knew who I’d called, and they knew what he could do to them. Something hit my feet. I jerked my leg away, and my hands slipped and-- Phoenix’s face suddenly above mine. He was now hanging halfway through the portal. The only thing keeping me from dropping was his grip on my wrists. “Samantha. Please! Can you hear me?” His voice was deep and calm as it washed over me. “I can now. Thank you.” “Pull me up. Now. Hurry.” “On the count of three. Okay?” He smiled. Even while all this insanity was happening—he smiled and it calmed me again and gave me confidence. Why? I couldn’t say. But it did. “One…Two…Three.” He pulled a little, and then all of a sudden, jerked me up, and I was lying on top of him. “Thanks.” I gasped out the word and let my body relax against his for a second. “You’re welcome.” 
GIVEAWAY! --
La Bella Luna
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Navigating the tight space, Diana found a small table in the back of the café, where she could see people exiting into the arrival area. She wasn’t sure where the thought or even the motivation came from, but she pulled out her phone, chose the camera app, held up the cup and took a selfie. She carefully put the cup down and looked at the picture; actually thought about deleting it, but then on a whim, posted it to her account that Harper insisted she needed to set up for this trip. And why the hell not? “Pisa, Italy. First espresso,” she wrote and posted the picture. She took a few sips, closing her eyes to savor the bitter hot loveliness. Finally, a message from Harper came in, demanding Diana call her right away. This was why she’d activated an international calling plan for her phone. Diana excitedly grinned when Harper picked up on the first ring and exclaimed. “You must be nearby!” “Well …” Harper drew out the word, “Lu, you have the itinerary, right?” “Yes, I printed it off before I left and it’s on my phone. Where are you?” “Happy engagement!” Harper sang. “Harper …” Diana laughed and looked around the part of the airport she could see, as if her younger sister would appear at any moment. “Look, if I told you the truth you wouldn’t have gone, and you needed to go; Hell, if anyone needs a vacation it’s you.” “Harper,” Diana’s heart began to thump wildly in her chest, “where are you?” In almost a whisper, Harper answered, “New York.” Diana turned so no one could see her anger. She cupped a hand over the receiver of her phone. “What the hell do you mean you’re in New York?” “I couldn’t afford to pay for both of us. But I wanted you to have something different … I wanted to get you out of the house before you got married. I wanted you to see … more, something bigger, something inspiring before you got married.” “Harper,” Diana choked out in disbelief. “I wanted to get you out of your fucking comfort zone,” Harper admitted, with all the loving passion she could. Diana was certainly out of her comfort zone now, that was for sure, and she’d be damned if she was going to stay in a foreign country by herself. “I’m not staying here alone,” she hissed. “You got me into this Harper, you need to get me a return ticket and get me out of this. Now.” “No.” “Then I need to go, I need to figure out how to get home.” “No. Please. You have ten days paid vacation in Italy. Do you know how many people dream of something like that?” “Harper.” Diana’s throat was closing with the urge to cry. “Luna, if you can’t figure out how to do this for yourself, then do this for me.“ Harper’s voice hitched with the same emotion. “Please Lu, you deserve something like this. You deserve to see something beautiful. You deserve to … sit in a Piazza in a world-famous café and sip an espresso. You deserve to be moved to tears by a painting.“ It was Harper who was crying now. “Jesus, Diana, you deserve to stand in the middle of Rome and be inspired. I understand this is the scariest thing anyone has ever asked you to do, I get that it’s a scary ass thing that I am asking you to do, but please … please, if you can’t do this for yourself, then do it for me.” 
GIVEAWAY! --
Unleashed
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Again, I open the door without a preview. It’s not like I would turn away a serial killer or the Grim Reaper. My eyes land on a throat. As they travel up, they glide over Greg Rodwell’s sexy face. I straighten with a gasp and blink away the surprise, hoping I’m not hallucinating. “What are you doing here?” His gaze lands on my tits, and my hardening nipples beg for him to notice. I wish I regretted taking off my bra, but I don’t. Greg’s eyes meet mine, and instead of looking away, I hold them with mine. I’ve stared into his eyes while making love, but now they’re indifferent. His voice breaks my staring. “I forgot my key.” “For?” As I grapple with not knowing what to do, Greg pushes past me into the entryway. From the living room, my father watches us. Greg waves and then faces me, mumbling, “Let’s get this shit done.” Through my teeth, I whisper, “But why? You said—” He slices his hand through the air, mumbling, “Five minutes is all you get.” I nod, stunned. Greg isn’t letting me do this alone. I could kiss him—but I won’t. “I’ll do the talking,” I mouth, and Greg shrugs. He follows me into the living room. Instead of sitting down with me on the couch, Greg offers my dad a handshake. Going along with the last-minute plan, I say, “Dad, this is Greg. Greg, this is my dad, Marc Garrison.” Dad doesn’t stand up and hesitates before returning the handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Garrison. Like South Park, huh? Where is Mr. Hand?” Greg snorts, and I cringe as my dad wrinkles his nose like he smells rotten cheese. “It’s Dr. Garrison. I thought Simone told you I’m an orthodontist?” Greg releases Dad’s hand and steps back, slipping his hand into his dark hair, and it mesmerizes me. I hate that. “Oh, I’m sorry. Yeah. I fell on my head a lot as a kid.” Jesus Christ, Greg. I shoot Greg a look, but he sits on the couch without looking at me. And then I see he’s wearing his silver wedding ring. My heart stops. Dead. Out of order. Gone for good. I don’t know whether to be shocked or furious. Dad’s horror escalates. “I’d also like to say it’s nice to meet you, but we’ll see.” Greg mutters, “I get it. I’m not for everyone.” I sit beside Greg. His citrusy musk cologne makes my mouth water, and I lick my lips again, no doubt looking like a thirsty lizard in a desert. Narrowing his eyes at me, Dad sighs as if I failed out of school. “I was thinking you were a figment of my daughter’s imagination. Maybe even a scam.” Greg smirks and my heart flutters because I drank too much caffeine. “No figment. I’m as real as a heart attack.” Classy. We sit in uncomfortable silence, with Dad studying Greg more than he’s ever cared to learn about me. “Simone tells me you work at a gas station.” No, no, no. Greg is so going to ruin this. Tripping over confusion and his words, Greg laughs but then frowns. He starts, stops, and sighs several times before saying, “Uh, I sure do.” My heart surges, but his clenched fists on his knees tell me he’ll never help me again. My dad throws his hand out and then touches his mustached lip before asking, “Where have you been, though? It’s evident you don’t live here.” Before Greg answers, I say, “Dad, please.” Greg sits back against the couch and rests his folded hands between his thighs. “I’ve been around. It’s like this…” He sighs, and it both scares and thrills me. “I’ve been staying with a friend. Simone and I had an argument.” My father chuckles like he heard a nonsensical knock-knock joke. “It’s obvious, but that shouldn’t explain why you don’t live with Simone as man and wife. Or are you hoping she’ll be the breadwinner? Since her father is wealthy, you may see pumping gas and cleaning the soda machine as a joy ride.” Surprised even he would slither that low, I gasp, “Dad, that’s not fair! Greg isn’t here for you to critique his life!” “Now, Simone, I will not tolerate a man you just met and married shirking his duties. As a wife, you should know this.” I shrink against the couch but keep my thigh against Greg’s. It comforts me a little. Greg clears his throat. “I’m sorry. My duties?” My father’s eyes narrow as he locks his gaze on my ex, his words dripping with annoyance. “I expect you to act like a husband.” Greg pushes up his jacket sleeves, and I bite my lip. Christ, it’s hot in here. Greg’s voice is a sharp razor blade slicing through the unbearable friction. “Oh, really?” I twitch my leg against him, bouncing his against mine. I mumble, “Greg…” He waves his hand to shut me up. “No way. Your dad needs to hear this. We shouldn’t be ashamed.” “Huh?” I sit up and angle toward him. “I’m trying to be a husband to Simone. We have a lot on our plates, but to be honest, I’ve been putting way more effort between the sheets—” “What?” I shriek, forgetting my dad is watching. We’re taking on water and sinking fast. I didn’t even wear a cute bikini. Greg sails on, leaving me to doggy paddle. “But I’m not a machine. It’d be nice to slow down and not perform on demand.” As I remain frozen in the water, watching the Titanic sink, Greg motions toward me with a laugh. “Come on. Your daughter isn’t ugly. But sometimes all I want to do is focus on our desire and not on making Greg Jr. It’s not that I can’t do it, but I’m worn out. You know?” The horror coursing through my body stabs me from every direction. I grab Greg’s arm, but he leans closer and mock whispers, “Shh, baby. Your dad needs to hear all this.” I fucking hate that I notice him calling me baby and miss it more than wearing pink. I shove his arm to snap him out of the bullshit, but Greg grins at me. He knows I can’t refute our marriage status now…unless I dump him in front of my dad. And he’s beating me at my own game. 
GIVEAWAY! --
A Seduction of Dreams and Nightmares
-- EXCERPT: “Cursed,” came Luc’s soft voice. “As Fiends we consider ourselves cursed, nightmares. Humans, fragile and finite as they may be, are the dreams. They are born, they grow, they change, they have choices we will never have about who they want to be and what feeds their appetites. But we, everlasting and unchanging until the moment of our demise, have little choice. I can never travel far by myself lest I have no means to sate my Lust. I came into existence as an incubus with a specific way I must live, and that is all I can ever be.” His words reminded me of the conversation with Keo last night and the way he’d questioned his urges because he couldn’t stop wondering if everything about him was decided before he even existed. “I don’t think I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about things from your perspective. I feel bad about that.” Luc chuckled. “Humans are selfish beings; I do not fault you for it.” “I’m not—” “I meant it not as an insult,” he cut in, “you are selfish because you know your time is limited. That there is an inevitable end you cannot avoid, and though you wish for the years to take you into old age, you live with no idea if your next day will be your last. Thus, you focus on yourselves, your pursuits, your pleasures. You can pick up jobs, hobbies, lovers, and discard them as your mood fits because ‘life is short,’ no? “You try to pull as much life from the world as you can because when you die, there is no coming back. Fiends can walk through centuries; we do not think of time the same way. Were two hundred of your friends to ask you to keep something of theirs in your care for the rest of your life you would say there was no way you could dedicate your life to taking care of things that do not belong to you. Things that would impede your ability to live your life on your terms.” He raised his hand to indicate the greenhouse. “But for me? I said yes every single time a Fleurisse came to me. Because it was of no consequence to hold on to things that would remain as long as I. All I have is time, and thus, we endure the long years together.” Luccero was far more perceptive and empathetic than I would have ever thought he was. In a few short hours I’d learned more about him than I’d ever known. Because all I’d seen when I looked at him was his beauty, all I’d felt was his charm and his lusty aura. But he was so much more than a creature of seduction. I was sure his long life was full of amazing stories. He could tell me something about every Fleurisse here, was probably knowledgeable about things I wouldn’t know the first thing about. I badly wanted to know this side of him more. 
GIVEAWAY! --
King of Nothing
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- 
GIVEAWAY! --
Handsome Devil
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: “You came here for a reason. What do you want?” “You should take a seat for this,” Annabelle said, waving toward his leather chair. She spoke in a lowered voice. Her seduction voice—low and throaty and bringing back memories that lashed his skin with heat. His eyes narrowed in distrust. “Why do I need to sit down?” “I’m not sure you’ll like what I’m about to say.” She gave a careless, one-shoulder shrug. “Tell me so we can get this meeting over with, and I can go back to more important tasks, like practicing my golf swing.” He glanced at the Patel Philippe watch on his wrist. “You have sixty seconds to explain why you’re here, and then I’m calling security to escort you out.” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I have a proposition for you.” “I cannot wait to hear it,” Dante said in a dry voice. Another fake smile. “My father plans to step down as the CEO of Buchanan & Buchanan within the next few months.” “Time is ticking. You have twenty-seven seconds.” “Be patient, darling. I promise you’ll want to hear this,” she said, strolling over to the bar where he kept beverages for guests. She poured herself a glass of water and took a sip before turning to face him. “Seventeen seconds.” Annabelle arched an eyebrow. “When he steps down, he plans to recommend a merger to the board—a merger with his friend’s company, Strong Technology, Inc. They’re a privately owned firm specializing in smart home technology to modernize residential properties and make them more efficient. Daddy has threatened to go through with this merger for years.” “What does that have to do with me?” Dante tapped his watch as a reminder. “Nothing, directly.” Annabelle finished the water and carefully placed the glass on a silver tray atop the bar. “Except for the proposition I mentioned. Instead of merging the companies and having Albert Strong take over as CEO, I want Daddy to recommend me as CEO to the board, but unfortunately, he won’t because of his traditional values.” A brief flash of pain zipped across her eyes, so fast he almost missed the emotion. “That’s your problem. Again, what does your father’s decision have to do with me?” She looked him squarely in the eyes. The haughty indifference disappeared, and a tough negotiator took its place. “My father admires and respects you. He thinks you’re a great businessman because of all you’ve accomplished in the ten years since our divorce. You’ve made quite a splash in the commercial real estate market. Therefore, my proposition is simple. I want to take over my father’s company, and I need you to help me make that happen. I’m proposing that you and I remarry.” Dante cocked his head toward her in disbelief. “Excuse me, I misunderstood what you said. My English is not so good.” “Your English is excellent. Probably better than mine at this point, so I know you understood perfectly what I said. I’m suggesting we get married again—a marriage of convenience, if you will. A mutually beneficial arrangement for both parties, you and me. My father will be happy to have you back in the family because he did like you, and now he has newfound respect for you thanks to all your accomplishments. Based on a conversation we had, I’m convinced he would recommend me for the CEO position if he thought you’d be involved in helping me with B&B, as needed. Our marriage would be temporary. Sometime after I take the reins of the company, you and I will have an amicable divorce. Not right away, of course. We want our reunion to be believable, but we simply split because we couldn’t make our marriage work for a second time.” Dante folded his arms over his chest. Unbelievable. “Your plan is to remarry and trick your father into believing you and I are happily married, so he will hand over the company to you when he steps down? That’s your plan?” She smiled brilliantly. “Yes.” “Ah querida, t’eres loca,” Dante said. Then he burst out laughing.
GIVEAWAY! --
Pulling Her Resources
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble -- EXCERPT: “Do you have a condom?” Fuck! Rookie mistake! “A condom?” He stalled, panic building in his abdomen, realizing that he most definitely didn’t have one. He didn’t travel everywhere with them. His brother would have been better prepared. Eitan always had one in his trousers’ back pocket. “You know, that’s so embarrassing. I don’t.” “This is my one and only night at the luna park, and I want to go on all the rides.” “We could do other stuff. Tell me what you want.” He would make more love to her tonight, condom or no condom. “To feel you in me, on me,” Dafna answered. She was killing him. 
GIVEAWAY! --
Pulling Her Resources
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble --
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #The Forger and the Duke (Ladies Least Likely 2) by Misty Urban @Xpresso Book Tours8/3/2024
The Forger and the Duke
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble -- EXCERPT: She set the portrait gently in its place. Mal battled the impulse to take those cool, capable fingers and press them against his aching head. “And where is your mother now?” Her steady, fathomless gaze rested on him. “She died when I was young.” Dear Lord, he was becoming sentimental. He pushed the weakness aside. “You are coming to know a great deal about us, Miss Illingworth, and I know very little about you.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled widely, and Mal cast about for breath. “We have not even been properly introduced.” “Malden Grey of Bristol, aspiring to the bar.” He held out his hand. “Malden,” she said, and a silken quality in her voice made him shudder, as did the slide of her fingers as she placed them in his. “You haven’t told me your name.” His voice roughed his chest. “Miss Amaranthe Illingworth of St. Cleer, Cornwall. My father was very fond of classical antiquity, so he chose a Greek name for me.” She held the volume of housekeeper’s accounts close to her chest, like a shield. He sat back. She appeared completely unconcerned to learn he was a bastard, the status he wore like a brand on his forehead, marking him as less than, as lacking. She rose, and he scrambled to his feet. Very neatly she placed her glass on the shelf beneath the decanter. Her eyes traced the figurines above, all of them representing mythological half-women with breasts prominently displayed. “They’re not mine,” Mal said. That small, maddening smile quirked her lips again. “No, they are young Hunsdon’s now, I imagine. I’ve seen this and worse among some of the medieval marginalia I’ve copied, Mr. Grey. You wouldn’t believe some of the grotesques those monks could dream up. I suppose it comes from being locked away day after day with no company but other men.” That was his problem as well, Mal decided. Too much time in the company of other men. That was why she riled his senses so potently. He moved around the desk toward her as she stepped away. “I can drive you tomorrow. When you make inquiries about hiring servants. What time shall I bring the carriage round?” She hesitated, and her face went studiously blank. A slither across the back of his neck told him this was the expression she assumed when she was withholding something. He was beginning to recognize it. “Eyde made up a room for me here,” she said. “Do you mind?” “Of course not. There are dozens of rooms.” Or so he thought. Hunsdon House was not his, as nothing about the Hunsdon estate was to be his—not even the family name—and so he’d never let much of it occupy his attention. Mal wondered which room Miss Illingworth would select for her own. Did she see her silk-smooth skin as best set off by the draperies in the Blue Room? Would she choose the Oriental patterns of the Jade Room? Or would she, like an empress of old, demand the royal purple? He imagined her nearby in the house going about her nightly routine, taking down her hair, drawing off her prim robe, perhaps splashing water onto her face that would run down that softly stern neck to the collarbones hidden beneath her gown and-- He’d best stop imagining Miss Illingworth at her ablutions. He was about to embarrass himself. “Till tomorrow then, Miss Illingworth.” Had she said he could call her Amaranthe? He wanted to roll the name over his tongue. It was exotic, yet robust. A name with command and presence, much like the woman. Good Lord! That brandy had turned his wits. He was behaving like a moonstruck calf. No, worse. “Till tomorrow,” she said softly, and her gaze held his. The flickering candlelight brought out violet shadows in her eyes, and all the air left Mal’s body. He wanted to be found worthy of that calm, assessing gaze. There was no way she would ever find him worthy. The door shut behind her, and Mal smacked a hand to his head to clear it. He’d best bring himself in order. They had business to conduct. Problems to solve. She had secrets he wanted very much to discover. He had gotten his first good look at Miss Amaranthe Illingworth. He wanted a second. And a third. 
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #Stolen by Billionaire by Blaire Babylon #Contemporary Romance @Xpresso Book Tours7/3/2024
Stolen by the Billionaire
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Blaze
Blaze Robinson crossed his ankle over his knee as he sat in front of his lawyer’s desk, trying to get comfortable but not fidget in the chair that was scaled for someone much smaller than he was. The squat seat made his knees stick up like a grasshopper, and his shoulders were broader than the chair’s back. He growled, “I am an American Navy SEAL, and I will not be blackmailed by a goddamn Russian mafia boss.”
The lawyer behind the desk, Bình Huong, broke eye contact and looked down at the letter and documents he was holding. The corner of the paper in his hands wavered, and his fingers tightened. His hair on the top of his head stuck up where it had been cut too short. “This Mary Varvara Bell, whom you say is involved in organized crime, never specifically threatens you with physical harm in the letter. If she had, I would’ve recommended that you take it directly to the FBI.”
Blaze bent one elbow, squeezing his bicep. His suit jacket tightened around his arm, and he rubbed his chin. “We will not be involving the authorities.”
Dealings with foreign agents like Russian oligarchs could get his Top Secret security clearance revoked, even unwilling dealings.
“I’m shocked that she rejected your settlement offers,” the lawyer said. “They were overly generous, assuming she doesn’t want to go to court.”
“She knows I won’t.”
The lawyer glanced up at Blaze again before he hurriedly shuffled the papers on his desk. “I can’t believe a competent attorney allowed you to sign this loan.”
Blaze shrugged. “I didn’t have a lawyer. I was twenty years old and fresh out of BUD/S.” The elation and trauma of surviving the Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training course, also called “A” school, had colored his perception with a blue sheen of invincibility for months. “I owned nothing except a few uniforms and my boots. It seemed low risk at the time.”
“But then the original signatory, Stanley Bell, died, and Mary Varvara Bell inherited the company.”
“Confiscated his assets in a hostile takeover is more like it,” Blaze muttered. She’d taken over the White Russian Syndicate in a maneuver like a military coup.
“And now she’s threatening you with fulfilling the conditions of this contract.” The attorney flipped his gaze up to meet Blaze’s eyes again. “You haven’t disclosed your financials to me, so I’m unsure what to recommend. Most career military people wouldn’t be able to come up with the money to purchase what she’s demanding unless they had invested the initial loan in something with a thousand-percent return,” he chuckled.
Blaze didn’t answer. He had accountants for financial advice.
The attorney rifled through the pages, referring from one text block to another. “The list of her demands in lieu of your assets will run to millions of dollars if not many millions. It’s twenty times more than what the initial zero-interest loan was for.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“I’m not even sure that some of these weapons she wants are legal,” Huong muttered.
Blaze knew a lot about weapons. “Some are not legal to buy or possess here in Illinois, but it’s relatively easy to purchase the equipment in other states or, for a few, other countries.”
Huong looked over the top of the pages at Blaze, his eyebrows raised in exasperation. “Is she trying to set herself up like Blackwater, or Academi, or whatever they’re calling themselves these days? This list looks like she wants to equip a private mercenary force. I mean, private warfare is a lucrative field, but this can’t be legal.”
“I could not discern her motives from the letter.”
This time, the lawyer stared straight at Blaze. “But you know why she wants military-grade weapons like this.”
Blaze didn’t know, but he had theories. The lawyer didn’t have a need to know his thoughts on the matter, so he just shrugged again.
All the possible reasons for Bell demanding that particular shopping list were detrimental for the world and the US, which meant Blaze’s US Navy SEAL brothers-in-arms would be in harm’s way if she got those weapons.
And that was unacceptable.
Damn, he wished he’d refused that stupid loan all those years ago. Nothing was free in this world. Nothing was even cheap.
Huong went back to scanning the documents. “All right, let’s go through the three basic parts of a contract, just in case we can break it. There is an offer and an acceptance on your and Stanley Bell’s parts, so it’s a quid pro quo agreement. That’s two of the requirements.”
Blaze waited. He could outwait anything. He’d spent fifteen hours curled around a sniper rifle one time, waiting for a terrorist to come out of a building, and he’d made the shot.
The lawyer continued, “As for consideration, the third component of a legal and binding contract, both the loan and repayment were something of value, so that just leaves your competence. You signed the contract when you were of legal age to do so and weren’t inebriated or otherwise compromised, right?”
Blaze nodded. He’d been stone-cold sober. Stanley Bell, the Malefactor, had been drunk. Mary Varvara Bell would waive that stipulation if he tried to take her to court over it, so it didn’t count.
“You received the money from Mr. Stanley Bell, Mary Varvara Bell’s predecessor in the company White Holdings LLC, so that fulfills their end of the contract and makes you liable for the later repayment clause. The contract is with the company, not with Mr. Bell, so you were not released from the debt when Stanley Bell died.”
That was where Blaze had made his mistake. When the Malefactor had died, he’d breathed a sigh of relief.
All four of them had erred in their supposed liberation. Tristan “Twist” King, Micah Shine, Logan Bell, and he had partied on Twist’s yacht in Monaco and toasted Stanley Bell’s probable descent into Hell.
But they’d breathed easy too soon.
The Devil always comes to collect a debt.
The lawyer shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Robinson, but you need to liquidate all your assets and possessions and turn everything you own over to White Holdings. Otherwise, you’d have to figure out how to purchase this dictator’s wish list of weapons, ammunition, and sundry military items, including military-grade body armor and devices, and we both know that’s impossible.”
Not impossible. Just morally reprehensible.
And irresponsible on a global scale.
An irritated twinge snapped the corner of Blaze’s eye, and he rubbed the lid to dispel it.
Acquiring the military supplies and dumping them on Bell’s doorstep to discharge the debt wasn’t an option for Blaze. The guilt and shame would’ve been like his father was in the room and commenting on his homework or Little League game.
Huong tapped the documents on the desk, straightening the edges, and held the sheaf of paper out to him over the desk. “As your lawyer, I would advise you to discuss it with your financial advisors and determine which amount is less. If purchasing an army’s worth of weapons is less than your total net worth, then I would advise you to fulfill the contract. If your net worth is less, liquidate everything, hand it to her, and walk away. You’re young, not even twenty-seven. You have time to recover from this financial setback. Unfortunately, a lawyer can do little after a contract has been signed, particularly a contract as airtight as this one. Those are the rules.”
Blaze’s hands rested gently on the arms of the chair, not clutching, not cramping. His body was at ease, as were his mind and heart. “Rules? What rules are those?”
The lawyer shook his head like he was as exasperated by his uselessness as Blaze was. “Fighting this contract in court would be a waste of your money in lawyers’ fees. The outcome will be the same. Sorry, Mr. Robinson. I don’t make the rules.”
Rules. Fuck rules.
Blaze stood and straightened the slacks of the Armani suit he’d worn into the lawyer’s office. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Huong.”
The lawyer rose and extended his hand for a concluding handshake. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. If you need someone to draw up an NDA or negotiate with White Holdings on your behalf for a payment plan or time for you to liquidate, I can do that. I’m sorry I don’t have better options for you, but the only rational option is conceding.”
Blaze wrapped his much larger hand around the attorney’s and looked down at his lawyer. “A Navy SEAL always has options.”
“Contractually, you don’t. I’m sorry, but there’s no way you can win this fight in court.”
Like hell.
Out of sheer force of habit, Blaze recited, “No matter how much it hurts, how dark it gets, or how far I fall, I am never out of the fight.”
Huong jerked his hand out of Blaze’s grip and shuffled back from his desk, presumably out of Blaze’s reach.
Blaze didn’t realize he had growled the common inspirational SEAL quote until he noticed microdroplets of sweat welling from the pores on Huong’s nose and cheekbones and felt the dampness of the lawyer’s hand in his own palm.
Dammit, Blaze hadn’t meant to scare the guy. The lawyer was just doing his job.
Huong stared at his hands splayed on the wood of his desk. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Robinson.”
Blaze nodded. “Likewise.”
He turned and left the office, walking through the rotating door of the lobby and into the Midwestern summer morning.
Sunlight reflected off the mirrored buildings crowding downtown Chicago, and a cool breeze skidded over Lake Erie and threaded through the grid of streets. A park down by the waterfront was lush with dark green grass and June flowers.
Signing that deal with the Devil seven years ago had been one of the greatest mistakes of Blaze’s life, but he would be damned if he’d go down without a fight.
Rules.
In warfare, the larger force dictated the rules of engagement.
US Navy SEALs were always the smaller fighting force, so a Navy SEAL was taught that they must break the rules to win.
Blaze knew how to break the rules. All the rules. Every time.
Mary Varvara Bell had threatened him, so he’d threaten something of hers.
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