“You’re despicable!” Sophie spat out, clutching the gown to her quivering breasts. “That’s the last time I’m cooperating with you…”

Brent snorted, which turned her face even redder. “If that was cooperation, you need lessons, princess.”

“You took advantage of me,” she declared with anger, a matching gleam of disdain in her accusing eyes.

“I told you what I intended; when’s the last time you made love with a man that didn’t involve kissing?”

It had been necessary to his plan. Only his reaction to the moment was definitely not part of it,

catching him off-guard. He knew revealing that would be a huge mistake and possibly give Sophie the upper hand.

The last thing she needed to know was the taste of her mouth had rendered him temporarily mindless. That kind of power would give her the leverage she needed to have him eating right out of her

pretty little hand. Brent had enough experience with women to know most of them were manipulative actresses who didn’t have a faithful bone in their bodies. Doing anything to get them what they

wanted.

He forced a smile he was far from feeling, hoping to disguise the desire still gripping him. No, not desire, l**t. When he desired a woman it was because he held affection for her. Sophie had pushed

him to the depths of raw, animal hunger without half trying.

“I demand you let me go.” Her scathing tone cut through his thoughts as easy as a warm knife slicing through butter.

“Save your breath, lady, because you’re not going anywhere, at least for a little while. In case it hasn’t sunk in yet, you’ve been kidnapped. You’re worth a lot of money.”

“You’re a bas-bastard!” she stammered, losing control. Obvious embarrassment over her outburst caused her to lower her face.

Brent grinned. The senator had told him Sophie hardly ever lost control, so he assumed what he was witnessing now was a new experience for her. “I’ve been called worse.”

For a moment something about his mouth seemed to captivate her, before her gaze moved away to meet his. Was that fear in her eyes? Brent was willing to bet there’d been nothing in her life to prepare her for the mess she suddenly found herself. Although, according to the paper, her father had been the object of many such criminal attempts. One of which he’d been called in to help.

“You won’t get away with this,” she said quietly, peering at him from beneath the sweep of long lashes. He tried to pretend her innocent look wasn’t sexy as hell. He reached for his pants and slipped

them on, carefully zipping them up over the bulge of his arousal. He had to give Sophie credit; she refused to break eye contact with him, even when he was forced to adjust himself.

“I already have,” he responded smugly, smiling in the face of her disdain.

She pressed her lips for a second before voicing, “I’d like nothing better then to wipe that smile off your face. The security guards couldn’t have gone far.”

Brent watched as she glanced about the room. He could just imagine what was going through that conniving mind of hers. There wouldn’t be much he could do were she to suddenly let out a scream,

or jump off the bed and begin throwing things. He was thankful there were no pictures, lamps or knickknacks of any kind.

Besides a bed and practical dresser, the only other furniture in the room was a small table and chair in front of the bay window. He doubted she could throw a chair very far.

Finally, her gaze came back to him, the expression on her face giving her away. She was going to try something stupid. “Don’t even think about it,” Brent warned, his stare narrowing on her threateningly. “Maybe you should consider the fate of others before acting carelessly.” His brutal reminder quickly cleared the purpose in her eyes.

In time Brent would tell her everything but right now the less she knew the better. He needed her convinced this was the real thing, instinctively knowing if she knew her kidnapping was a scheme

concocted by her own father she wouldn’t remain manageable for very long, especially if she was anything like her father.

“It takes a brave man to control someone by threatening to hurt innocent people. Your mother must be very proud of you,” she said in a voice laced with venom, her eyes snapping defiantly at him.

“Let’s leave my mother out of this, princess.” His tone was deceptively soft.

“And stop calling me princess,” she demanded. When Brent leaned toward her, she nervously pulled the coverlet up to her chin as though it offered protection.

He laughed softly, putting a long finger beneath her chin and tipping it up. Her lips parted slightly; he was close enough to feel the warmth of her breath against his face. “What do you want me to call

you?” In spite of her attempt to jerk away he held her firmly.

“Miss Adams,” she replied smartly.

Her comment produced a bark of humorless laughter from him. She was serious. “I think we’re past those formalities, don’t you?” His gaze dropped, traveling from the startled expression in her eyes

to her lips. She had a sassy mouth, just begging to be tamed. The memory of what she felt like squirming beneath him surfaced, hardening his resolve to ignore her appeal. “Consider yourself our guest

until Lord pays up.” His tone became as cold and sharp as a glacier. She shuddered at the mention of Jonathan’s name, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by Brent.

“What makes you think Jonathan will pay any ransom to get me back?” she finally voiced.

His brows rose with surprise. “The fact he loves you. You were supposed to become his wife tomorrow.” Brent watched her reaction carefully, his gaze narrowing. “Weren’t you?”

Brent schooled himself not to show any interest by the transformation that came over her face. Her expression suddenly revealed precisely what she felt for her soon-to-be husband, which confirmed

the senator’s suspicions. She wasn’t exactly ecstatic over the prospect of marrying the millionaire. The million-dollar question was why. So far the senator had yet to fill him in on all the details. He reached

inside his pants pocket and pulled out the engagement ring he’d snatched off the table on their way out of her place.

“Maybe wearing his ring will give you some comfort.” The ring felt heavy in his hand. He glanced down at it, seeing the many facets of color catching the varying shades of light in the room. He’d

always considered diamonds were cold stones resembling a chunk of ice. He glanced back at Sophie; she made him think of fiery opals and warm pearls.

Her gaze dropped to his palm and the truth became transparent in her lovely eyes. If he flushed it down the toilet she wouldn’t care. Only he knew she’d never admit to that. She was too well bred and

private, too proud. She raised her chin, meeting his quiet gaze with the swell of tears swimming in her eyes, exposing her vulnerability. Brent forced down his protective instincts.

“That stone is worth millions, why don’t you just keep it and let me go?” she asked, breaking the silence.

He continued to hold the ring toward her. “Where would the fun be in that?”

She took the ring with obvious reluctance. “Thank you.” Her low tone exposed the degree of emotion running through her. For a second Brent was sure he saw how much she detested Jonathan reflected in her eyes before she masked it. She curled her hand around the cold stone until her knuckles turned white. “What now? You gag me and tie me to the bed?”

“That’s up to you. If you give me your word you’ll behave, you can have the freedom to move around in this room. Double cross me, and I’ll be forced to keep you drugged.”

“Drugged!” Her eyes grew round. It was clear she didn’t like the thought, yet she didn’t say anything more. It didn’t take a genius to realize she was weighing her options. Did she think my offer of moving

around freely would lead to escape?

“Do you have any clothes for me?”

Brent’s gaze took in her ruined gown. Bending, he scooped up his shirt and tossed it to her. “Put this on for now.” She caught it against her, but otherwise didn’t move.

The silence between them grew.

“What now?” He didn’t try to disguise the impatience in his tone.

“Surely you don’t expect me to put this on while you stand there watching?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“The gentlemanly thing by turning around.”

Brent couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. “You take the cake, princess.” He released a resigned sigh when she didn’t show any signs of budging, and spun around so she could slip into his shirt.

“Don’t try anything cute; Tom’s in the other room.”

“You could leave the room…”

“Don’t press your luck.”

Brent grinned at her huff, and then nearly swallowed his tongue when he caught sight of Sophie in the mirror over the dresser. Neither of them had given it a thought. But he could clearly see everything the lady had to offer. She released the comforter, and his gaze rapidly took in her full breasts and narrow waist, the curve of her h**s.

Before he had time to fully appreciate what he was looking at she quickly slipped into his shirt, doing up every button from the neck to the hem. She started to slide the ring on her finger but opened the

nightstand drawer instead. He watched her drop it inside. Then, just as she was about to close the drawer she hesitated, and he knew her gaze had fallen on the gun he’d placed in there earlier.

Her gaze flew to him. It was clear she was still unaware that he could see her in the mirror. He recognized the indecision on her expression, right before she made a desperate grab for it. As she

brought the small, black revolver up, Brent swung around. And before he knew it, he was staring down the barrel of his own weapon.

Another time and he would have been amused at how badly the gun was shaking in her small hand. It appeared heavy and awkward, and he suspected she’d never handled one before. That could be

dangerous, if the safety wasn’t on. Their stares met, and clung. Fear churned in her pretty eyes, yet not enough to cause her to drop the gun. She pointed it at Brent as though she had experience handling

it.

“For a man with a gun pointed at him you don’t look very concerned,” she had the guts to say.

Brent could tell his grin unnerved her. “What are you going to do with that?”

Her expression revealed his lack of response wasn’t exactly what she’d been hoping for. She was more frightened than he was and she was the one with the gun. Testing her, Brent took a step in her

direction; she took a step back in reaction. She gasped when the back of her thighs came up against the edge of the bed. It shouldn’t have, but the look in her calculating eyes set his b***d on fire. He

never could back down from a challenge.

She wet her lips before saying, “Please, don’t make me shoot you.” Her stare clung to his. Brent took another step forward, knowing there was nowhere for her to retreat. Nowhere to go except back on

the bed, and he doubted she’d do that willingly. “All I want to do is leave.”

Brent shook his head slowly. “Sorry, princess, no can do.” He halted within a foot of her, taking in the fact her hand was already weakening from the unaccustomed weight of the gun. “I guess you’ll just have to shoot me.” He held his arms out as if offering her an easy target.

Instincts warned Brent she’d never shoot him, even if she could. He probably stood a better chance of having the gun thrown at him. As the silence stretched between them he saw tears of frustration

slip from her eyes and that sexy bottom l*p tremble slightly. He swore beneath his breath and clenched his teeth, unprepared for the feeling her vulnerability had on him. A poised, spirited Sophie he could

deal with.

“Damn you!” she sobbed huskily, surprising them both by the passion in her tone.

Brent reached forward and took the gun from her hand. “You couldn’t have shot me anyway. The safety is still on.” In spite of the tears slipping down her face she held her ground. Reacting to her softness, Brent surprised himself by gently wiping her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He felt compelled to promise.

“I don’t believe you.”

The mistrust in her eyes said it all. Brent didn’t blame Sophie for not believing him. Why should she when everything I’ve done so far led her to presume I’m a villain? A sucker for redhead, blue-eyed

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