Nothing But Trouble
Chapter 9

“Senator Adams, do you know how your daughter is?”

“No, I haven’t spoken to Sophie since her abduction.”

“Who do you think is behind this? Do you think it has anything to do with the upcoming elections? Are you…”

“Please, one question at a time,” he interrupted with obvious annoyance, holding his hand up to cease the barrage of questions storming his way. “I prefer not to speculate on the reasons behind her abduction. As for your other questions, I believe Jonathan is better equipped to answer them, since the kidnappers contacted him earlier.” He turned slightly to include the man standing at the podium next

to him.

Jonathan Lord was impeccably dressed in an Italian silk suit that complimented the color of his eyes, which appeared to crystallize the second he knew the cameras had swung his way. Not a hair out of

place, his character reeked of the superiority and self-importance he was known to possess. He stepped closer to the mike, clearing his throat for effect.

“Mr. Lord, when did you first replace out the senator’s daughter had been kidnapped and do you know how she is?” a reporter up front called out.

“I was first alerted by my security staff that something was amiss, when they found my fiancée’s apartment door open and the place trashed,” he began, putting great emphasis on Sophie’s relationship

to him and instantly drawing sympathy in the reporters crowding around the podium. “My worst fears were confirmed when one of the kidnappers called this morning to assure me she’s alive and…”

“What are their demands for her release?” someone else called out, interrupting.

“At this time they haven’t made any. However, you can rest assured, if they harm Sophie in any way…” Pausing significantly for effect, Jonathan gave the flashing cameras time to record his stricken ap-

pearance. “I’ll hunt them down myself and…”

“What time did the call come in?”

The interruption caused his brows to come together in a fierce frown. “At precisely ten o’clock.”

“Did they ask you not to inform the authorities?”

“If they had we wouldn’t be standing here before you now,” Jonathan retorted sharply, making eye contact with the reporter who’d dared to ask him that question. The reporter actually stepped back into

the crowd. “Today was supposed to be our wedding day,” he went on. “Sophie’s my life and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her wellbeing.”

“Senator Adams, how are you holding up, sir?”

“As well as can be expected. I have every faith that once the demands are met Sophie will be released unharmed.”

“What are the facts, as you know them?” a reporter in the front row asked.

“The facts?” The senator paused, making an obvious attempt to pull himself together. “From what little we know; she was apparently kidnapped right out of her apartment last night.”

“Security did a thorough search of the building, including the tenants’ apartments, but turned up nothing,” Jonathan continued, bringing the attention back to him. He looked directly into the camera,

as though peering into Sophie’s eyes. “I’ll pay whatever they ask to get you back, darling. Hold onto those thoughts until you’re safely back in my arms, where you belong.”

As numerous cameras flashed capturing the moment, Senator Adams turned and walked away.

Clicking off the TV, Sophie dropped the remote before walking to the big window facing the ocean side. She leaned against the frame, staring down at the glistening water without really seeing it, thinking

about the news broadcast she’d just watched.

It broke her heart to think of the worry her father must be going through; not knowing where she was or if she was okay. With the exception of the day her brother died she’d never seen him let his emotions run away with him, and today hadn’t been any different. He’d stood strong and composed during the brief interview, the briefest emotion simmering in his eyes.

A deep sigh escaped her as she crossed her arms. She had to think of a way out of there, or at the very least how to gain access to the phone in the living room. Her father was the only one she cared

about.

Jonathan had played a convincing part, but she knew he was a consummate actor, skillfully playing the situation to his advantage. To the world watching he was a deeply devoted man; one who

would do anything to get back the woman he loved, but she knew the real man. As far as she was concerned Brent could hold her forever if it prevented her from marrying Jonathan.

The memory of the afternoon he’d asked her to marry him came flooding back. A scene that haunted her dreams both day and night. They’d only been dating a few weeks so his proposal had come as a

complete surprise.

Until that moment he’d been charming and patient, never pressing her to do anything she hadn’t wanted, including sleeping with him. He’d gained her trust during those first weeks until she’d grown almost fond of him, but that was all. His rare k****s and caresses hadn’t evoked any feelings in her. She’d closed the lid to the velvet box containing the engagement ring, declining his proposal with a counteroffer of her own. One she was naive enough to think would be warmly welcomed.

She repressed a shiver of repulsion as she recalled his cold reaction over her suggestion that they remain friends. She knew a man with an ego the size of Jonathan’s wouldn’t take rejection well, and he

hadn’t.

Still, nothing could have prepared her for what happened next. The charming, soft-spoken man she’d come to know disappeared completely, suddenly turning into a cold-hearted monster with a cheating card up his sleeve. She could still remember the look in his emotionless eyes when he reopened the box and removed the ring, sliding it on her finger with such deadly calm that she’d stopped breathing.

In the space of a heartbeat everything she’d ever heard about Jonathan came crashing down upon her shoulders. Only by then it was too late to pay attention to the rumors and gossip columns. She’d

been backed into a corner with nowhere to turn, becoming the weapon he’d use against her father.

Jonathan had calmly informed her that she would marry him. Then proceeded to tell her why, almost glo-

rying in the horror his words had produced as he informed her of the terrible secrets he’d learned about her mother. A woman she hadn’t seen since the age of five.

A shudder escaped Sophie as she recalled the almost sardonic delight he’d taken in telling her that her mother was a high-priced hooker living in Europe. Even going so far as backing up his statement

with explicit pictures of the woman with various men. It hadn’t taken much convincing for her to realize if something like that leaked out to the public it would ruin her father.

Tears of despair choked her, clouding her vision. She hugged her arms, knowing she would do whatever it took to protect him. Yet sometimes the gravity of her situation got the better of her. She wished she had someone to turn to; someone who would know what to do. Usually that person was her father but this was one time going to him wasn’t an option.

She’d had no choice but to accept Jonathan’s ring in exchange for his silence, and agree to marry him. Striking a bargain with him that she’d portray the perfect fiancée in public as long as he didn’t press her into sleeping with him until after their wedding. A ceremony supposed to have taken place an hour ago.

Thank God for unexpected miracles in the way of a tall, incredibly sexy man.

Brent opened the door quietly, standing in the threshold for a moment observing Sophie, so engrossed in her own deep thoughts that she hadn’t heard him enter. Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts, emphasizing their fullness. His glance traveled over her lithe form taking in the way his shirt had ridden up her shapely thighs.

The soft cloud of hair around her face and shoulders had a little more curl to it, indicating she must have showered. The sun was upon it, turning it a darker, richer shade of auburn.

How could I have ever thought a woman like her wouldn’t hold any appeal to me? Even disheveled she was still the sexiest thing he’d seen in a long while.

As if sensing he was there, she turned her head slightly, their stares locking instantly. When Brent saw the tear tracks staining her cheeks he cursed inwardly, clenching his teeth until his jaw hurt. She must be terrified about everything happening to her. The urge to tell her the truth was so strong at that moment he knew the smartest thing he could do was drop her breakfast off and beat a fast retreat.

He slammed the door behind him, taking quick steps to the small table next to the window where she was standing.

“Breakfast,” he said simply, his tone less than friendly.

She hastily brushed the betraying moisture off her cheeks, quietly watching as he moved closer. Her gaze barely skimmed over the tray in his hands before wandering past him to the door. He could almost see the wheels turning inside her head as she weighed her chances for escape. Brent couldn’t fault her for having a one-track mind because he’d do the same thing.

“Don’t even try it,” he warned, meeting the contemplation in her serious eyes. “I brought you a nice breakfast.” Well, as nice as could be expected with two men in the kitchen. He hadn’t remained a bachelor all this time and not learned a few domestic skills of survival.

Her gaze dropped to the food, her brows lifting with mild surprise at the eggs Benedict and bowl of fresh fruit. Real pleasure spread across her face when she spotted the cup of steaming coffee.

“Thank you, you’re too kind.” The cool tone of her voice made a mockery out of the pleasure he saw in her eyes.

“We aim to please,” Brent returned, his firm mouth turning up at the corners. There was no disguising the sound of hunger rolling in her belly. As he started to set the tray down she made her move,

which he’d been expecting.

“Sophie!” He slammed the tray down, everything on top rattling with his impatience. The bark of his anger only encouraged her to quicken her pace. She was almost at the door.

What am I going to have to do, lock her in the closet, gagged and tied? “Damn it!” he bellowed, taking off after her.

She made it to the other side of the door before he caught up to her. He grabbed the doorknob. There was a brief tug of war, but it was a no-win situation. Brent had to outweigh her by at least a hundred pounds.

Within seconds he wrenched the door from her hands with enough force to send her flying into the bedroom, and into his arms. They closed around her as her momentum carried them backward to the carpet. He landed on his back with a loud grunt. She released an indignant gasp, landing fully on top of him.

With the wind knocked out of him he was temporarily incapacitated. Sophie quickly rolled off him and attempted to crawl away on her knees. Apparently too concerned with escaping to appreciate that

he’d gone out of his way to cushion her from the fall. Brent knew he had to stop her because Tom wasn’t around to holler to for assistance. As he gasped for air, he reached out and caught her angle, curling his hand around the delicate bone and easily dragging her back.

“Oh!”

Brent ignored her huff and rolled, easily pinning her beneath him. His eyes narrowed down at her with annoyance. “I’m getting damn tired of this,” he grumbled close to her face, pinning her wrists to the carpet with a little more force than necessary. “Unless this is the only way you figure you can get into my arms and still save face.”

The rose in her cheeks elevated, revealing her emotions were close to the surface. Brent’s interested gaze fell to her quivering bottom l*p. It was full and soft, damp from where she’d licked it. He wondered how much protesting she’d do if he took advantage of the moment and kissed her.

Like he wanted to.

“Get off me!” she demanded, arching against him, but he thwarted her efforts to throw him off. “What kind of kidnapper are you?” She began wiggling like an eel. “You haven’t even asked for a ransom! Or is it a political favor you’re seeking from my father?” she continued, revealing she’d seen the news.

“All in good time, princess. If we seem too eager Lord will think he can negotiate, which means less money for us. The more time that goes by, the more he’ll begin to wonder what we’re doing to you.

When we finally make our demands, he won’t blink at the amount he’ll be so eager to get you back. And you could save yourself a lot of grief, if you’d just come to terms with your predicament and wait patiently for the outcome.”

“Jonathan will pay you whatever you want,” she breathed, glaring up at Brent with bright eyes. “There’s no reason to drag this on.”

“He must love you very much.” She looked sexy as sin, and just as tempting. Soft ribbons of fire were splayed out on the carpet around her, giving Brent the urge to touch it. He couldn’t recall a time he’d felt an overwhelming need to touch a woman’s hair. The warning signs were there. His control was slipping fast.

Sophie stilled, whether it was due to self-preservation or something he’d said, he didn’t know. He became mesmerized by the deep mystery reflected in her eyes as they moved over his face, as though

searching for the answer. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she didn’t know what to say. “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

“Yes.” This time she didn’t hesitate.

“And you love him,” he prompted in a hard tone.

“I…” She halted, her pretty white teeth sinking down into her bottom l*p.

Had she been about to divulge something? Brent watched an array of emotions cross her face, curious as to what thoughts had left that despondent look in her eyes. Hardly the look he’d expect to see

in the eyes of a woman in love.

“What’s going on in the pretty head of yours?” he asked, as the silence stretched between them. “Your eyes are giving you away, princess. You’re hiding something.”

Her mouth tightened into a firm line. “You’re fishing.”

He felt her begin to relax beneath him. “And you’re not biting.” Brent knew he should release her, only he wasn’t ready to. That decision turned out to be a mistake.

Now that Sophie had stopped focusing on getting away, he became aware of how intimate their position was. How good she felt beneath him.

“Please, let me up.”

Sanity returned almost instantly. The sound of her voice sliced right through the l**t surging through his b***d. Getting up suddenly became more important than subduing Sophie, especially when his body betrayed him by hardening. Only Brent knew he had the upper hand. “Not until you answer me.” Though she gave no outward sign, he saw something flare in her eyes, suspecting the turmoil running through her. “You love him.”

“I…yes!”

Her exclamation was a mixture of unwillingness and desperation. Her hesitation told Brent she was lying. He was willing to let it slide for now, knowing that sometimes patience was a virtue. “Are you

thinking about him now?”

There was a challenge in his tone. He was good at pushing people into talking when they didn’t want to, instinctively knowing which buttons to push. Sometimes he got lucky.

His gut told him Sophie was definitely hiding something. Nevertheless, he knew it was too good to hope that she’d come right out and tell him what. She had too much pride for that. In that respect she was a lot like the senator. And that meant her stubbornness was going to mean more trouble for him.

“I’d like to eat breakfast now,” she remarked, letting him know their conversation was over.

Well, he controlled the situation, though he seemed to have forgotten that for a moment. Sophie’s delicate shiver reminded him she was at his mercy. When he’d held her close during the night he’d

roused several times to replace her nestled against him, almost seeking contact, and he’d adjusted his position so she could get closer still.

A mistake he’d paid for countless times over. Well, once again they were as close as two people could get, causing his body to react to their close proximity. He hesitated for a moment before getting to his feet and easily pulling her up with him, refusing to be taken in by the seductive scent threatening to suck him under.

“I wonder, are you an honest woman?”

Sophie made a halfhearted attempt to break away but his question obviously caught her off-guard. She halted, meeting his gaze. “What kind of question is that?” she demanded to know, her brows coming together with confusion.

“A simple question.” He slowly uncurled his fingers from around her wrist, studying her expression closely. He had good instincts; in his line of work, it was a commodity. “I want to know if I can trust

you.” Probably about as far as I can throw her.

“Yes,” was all she said, a nervous look filling her bright eyes.

Brent had to give her credit for being able to look him in the eye and lie to him, because he didn’t trust her. With the exception of his mother and sister he didn’t trust any woman. Still, he had to replace out how far she’d go to convince him of that. “Can I trust you not to try and escape, if I let you out of this room for a little while?”

Sophie’s eyes grew round with disbelief. “How can you even ask me such a thing? Do you really expect me to be honest with you?”

Brent watched her expression carefully, instincts warning him she was struggling with what to say. The way he figured it, she could tell him what she thought he wanted to hear. Or, she could be honest

now and gain his trust. That would definitely work to her advantage later. Did she have the patience for that?

“I can’t do that.”

Her response surprised him. “Why?”

“Because I know that every time the chance presents itself I’ll try and escape.”

Grudging respect filled Brent. Why hadn’t she taken the easy way out? He wouldn’t have blamed her. He expelled a deep sigh before turning to leave. “I’ll be back later. Eat your breakfast.” He tossed the clipped words over his shoulder.

“What about clothes? Surely you don’t expect to keep me in nothing but your shirt.”

Brent opened the door, pausing in the threshold to glance back at Sophie. Her expression wasn’t hard to read. If looks could kill, he’d be dead right now. A slow smile formed on his lips. Her chin raised a notch for every second his eyes raked over her scantily clad attire. He liked his shirt on her.

“Make yourself at home.” He indicated the direction of the closet with a sweep of his arm. “What’s mine is yours. Feel free to search for something more suitable to wear.”

Instead of acknowledging his comment, she sat down at the small table, placed the paper napkin over her lap, and then waited. She didn’t make eye contact with Brent again, but he had a hunch she

wouldn’t touch her breakfast until he was on the other side of the door and she heard the sound of the lock being turned.