CHAPTER TWO
LAYLA’SHEARTWAS beating so hard she feared the force of it would make her sick.
She was shaking. Shaking from the desire that had welled in her during her seduction and shaking from the nerve it had taken to follow through with her plans.
She couldn’t believe she’d gone through with it. The only time she’d faltered had been when Sebastiano first walked into the suite and her heart had exploded into her ribs.
Since receiving the call three hours ago that Sebastiano Russo was coming in that evening, she’d focused her mind solely on what needed to be done. The worst of it was over but the thought of what came next made her shake even harder.
‘I didn’t have you pegged for liking the kinky stuff,’ Sebastiano said in the heavily accented Sicilian voice that shouldn’t still soak into her skin like melted butter.
She’d left enough give in the handcuffs so he could twist himself round but not enough for him to slip out of the metal restraining him to the bed, and now he was lying on his back, head up against the headboard, staring at her with that lascivious gleam in his green eyes that had got her into this whole mess.
Okay, it was the whole Sebastiano Russo package that had got her into this mess. Tall, dark and handsome men were the stuff of romance novels for a reason and it turned out she was just as susceptible to their sexy promise as the next woman. And Sebastiano was incredibly sexy. She’d felt his magnetism from the first moment she’d set eyes on him.
Being five foot seven, Layla rarely had to look up to meet a man’s eyes, but with Sebastiano she did, and when she locked onto them, it was a deep pool of green that captured her. That he had a chiselled face that could make a nun swoon and a lean yet muscular body to die for were secondary. It was his eyes that did it for her. His way of making her feel that she was the only woman he’d ever looked at before.
However he made her feel, she’d slept with him without any illusions as to the kind of man he was. She still didn’t know what had possessed her. In all her twenty-four years, she’d been with only with one man, a long-term relationship that had ended after graduation when he’d taken a job two hundred miles from London and they’d both agreed the distance meant it would be too much work to keep the relationship going. She’d had plenty of offers since but had far too much self-respect to sleep with anyone on a first date. Once the few men she’d dated had realised they wouldn’t be getting her into bed any time soon, they’d quickly moved on.
Turned out that all she’d needed for her so-called self-respect to desert her at the first opportunity was a man her hormones jumped to attention to and waved the bunting for.
Even now, even after the night they’d shared and the weeks spent clutching her phone, her heart skipping every time it rang, her desire for Sebastiano was as unrestrained as it had been the night she’d succumbed.
She’d had no illusions before they’d made love but in the morning she’d believed him when he’d said he wanted to see her again. Maybe if she hadn’t been caught in the euphoric haze of their lovemaking she would have had the sense to realise they were just words. That he didn’t mean it. She would have reminded herself that for all his devastating looks and undeniable charm, Sebastiano was, at heart, a spoilt, selfish, entitled billionaire.
How she hated that he could still affect her so physically and so deeply. There had been moments when she’d been massaging the oil over his smooth back and breathing in his cologne and the heat of his skin that the ache to turn him around and fuse her mouth to his and fuse their groins together and lose herself in their passion all over again had been close to overwhelming.
That sexy, knowing anticipatory gleam in his eyes as he waited for her to make her next move was enough to liquidise her insides and she had to pull air deep into her lungs to make her body move counter to what it ached to do.
What game was she playing? Sebastiano wondered when Layla climbed off the bed. She didn’t look at him until she reached the door.
The look in her eyes turned his blood to ice. ‘Layla?’
There was a tremor in her voice as she said, ‘Stay where you are.’ Like he could actually go anywhere restrained as he was. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’
What the hell?
‘Layla?’ he called after her retreating body, tugging at the restraint on his wrist, then shouted, ‘Layla!’
She was gone only moments but it was enough time for him to realise the impossibility of freeing himself without a key or a chainsaw.
When she returned she was carrying a large handbag. There was nothing seductive about the graze of her teeth when her fearful eyes fell back on him.
‘You need to release me,’ he warned her. Whatever this game was, he no longer wanted to play it. ‘Unlock this cuff.’
Her beautiful face scrunched up, eyes closing for a few beats before they snapped back open, her composure regained. ‘I will. Soon.’
‘Release me, now.’
From her handbag she produced a small brown envelope, which she extended to him. ‘Business first.’
‘What is that? A ransom demand?’
Her laugh was morose. ‘In a way.’
He stared at her in disbelief, hardly able to believe what was happening. Layla had cuffed him to the bed and it was no kinky sex game. ‘Have you lost your mind?’
Her smile was as morose as her laugh. ‘Probably. Pregnancy can do that to a woman.’
For the second time in minutes his blood turned to ice.
Her shoulders rose jerkily and her face scrunched again. ‘I’m three months pregnant. That envelope has the scan picture in it with our baby’s due date and other pertinent information. You’re good at figures. You’ll be able to work back and see that the dates prove you’re the father.’ Her shoulders gave another jerky rise. ‘Not that there’s any other contender for it as you’re the only man I’ve been with in years, but I knew you’d want proof. I also have a letter from my midwife confirming the window of the conception date.’
Layla squeezed her eyes shut. She’d had to beg the midwife to write the letter.
She’d thought long and hard about begging Sebastiano too but ultimately this had been the only way forward that protected her and, more importantly, protected their child.
It had been two months since she’d taken the pregnancy test. She’d almost passed out from the rush of blood to her head at seeing the positive sign on the stick.
‘You’ve chained me up just to tell me that you’re pregnant?’ he asked incredulously.
‘No, I’ve cuffed you to the bed because I need money and this was the only way I figured I could get it without you dismissing me as a fantasist and kicking me out of your suite.’
It would have been different if he hadn’t ghosted her. Different too, if Sebastiano were an ordinary man. They’d have been coming at things from an even playing field but there was no chance of an even playing field between a young, ordinary woman and one of the richest, most powerful men in the world. Layla knew from the bitter experience of her own father how rich men used their wealth as a tool, and her father’s wealth was a fraction of Sebastiano’s. Her mother had stood no chance against her father. Layla, even with all her street-smarts and legal training, stood no chance against Sebastiano.
She pulled his phone out of her bag—she’d removed it from his jacket pocket—and dropped it on the bed within his reach. ‘Five million.’
He looked at his phone, looked back at her, and laughed...except it wasn’t the same timbre as his usual laughter. This was a laughter that chilled.
Fear laced her spine but she shrugged it off. She was doing this for the child growing in her belly and so long as she remembered that, she could do this. She had to.
‘I’m not joking and I didn’t pluck that number from thin air,’ she said. ‘I’m having your child and, considering your vast wealth, it’s only right that our child live in a decent home. London’s an expensive city.’ And Layla lived in what had become one of its roughest parts. Raising a child there was unthinkable. ‘I’ve looked at properties and there’s a nice four-bed in the suburbs with a big garden that would suit us perfectly. I’ve also factored in the cost of raising a child until the age of eighteen and then the cost of supporting their university education if that’s the route they choose to take.’
He’d sat up a little straighter against the headboard and now crossed the non-cuffed arm over his chest. ‘And you think that all comes to five million?’ he mocked.
‘No, it comes in at much less than that, but I’m also factoring in inflation and potential unforeseen emergencies. Anything that’s left over when our child finishes their education will be all theirs.’
‘You have such a selfless heart,’ he said in that same mocking tone before flashing his perfect teeth. It was like being smiled at by a hungry shark and made her heart clatter frantically against her ribs. ‘You seriously think I’m going to give you five million euros?’
‘No, five million pounds, and if you want me to give you the key to unlock those cuffs then yes, I seriously think you’re going to give it to me. In return, I’ve drafted a legal document stating that the five million is the extent of your financial obligations towards me and our child and that I have no recourse to come back to you asking for more. Once the money’s in my account, that’s it.’
‘You’ve drafted it?’
‘Yes, Sebastiano, I’ve drafted it.’ She pulled it out of her bag, unfolded it and held it out for him to see, making sure not to get too close.
Other than his initial anger when the penny had dropped that cuffing him to the bed wasn’t a sex game, he seemed to be treating the whole situation as one big joke. She’d much prefer anger. This jovial mood was unnerving simply because of the danger underlying it. Trapping Sebastiano was like trapping a big cat. Getting within arm’s reach would give him the opportunity to bite. She had little doubt that when she released him he would pounce, but by then she would have the money. Any scars that followed would be worth it for her growing child’s financial security.
‘I’ve already signed it,’ she added, dropping it on the bed when he made no effort to reach for it. ‘A colleague witnessed it. I covered it so all they witnessed was me signing it. Once you’ve transferred the money, I’ll leave it with you so you can sign your part too. I’ve also drafted a document regarding custody of our child. It makes it nice and easy for you—sole custody is mine and you are under no obligation whatsoever to have any involvement. I hope you don’t sign that one because I want our child to know you and have a proper relationship with you but I understand the world you come from, and I hope you understand when you’ve calmed down and think about this that I’m just trying to do right by our child. All you have to do is transfer the money and then I’ll let you go and you can forget all about me again and get on with your life.’
Head shaking, he laughed loudly. ‘You use physical restraints to force me into giving you money, tell me you’re pregnant with my child and think I’m going to let you walk out of this suite and forget about you? Were you dropped on the head as a baby?’
‘I’m not a good Sicilian woman, am I? The only thing you want from me is my body.’
Sebastiano, she’d learned from the late nights in this suite when he’d confided much about his life to her, was putting off marriage for as long as he could, something that was causing consternation amongst the rest of the Russo family. They needed him to produce an heir and set it on the same path Sebastiano, his father, grandfather, great-grandfather and countless generations of other Russos had travelled, the final destination being head of Russo Banca Internazionale. The heir they were starting to get itchy about needed to be of ‘good stock’ from both sides. When Sebastiano married it would be to a respectable society woman, ideally Sicilian, of independent wealth who would fit in his monied lifestyle with aplomb. Love and passion were not required.
Whenever those of his trusted peers who’d already taken the marital plunge joined him at the Diamond club, it was their mistresses hanging on their arms and no one even commented on it. It was just the way things were. Wives were for duty and breeding, mistresses for fun, and everyone knew their place. Layla had heard enough snippets of conversations to know how mistresses and lovers who fell pregnant—and that was the attitude; that it was the woman whose body was entirely to blame for conception—were to be treated with suspicion, the subsequent child hidden away like a dirty little secret. Having been abandoned by her own father, Layla had no intention of letting her child be a dirty little secret, and that was if Sebastiano even acknowledged paternity. She longed for her child’s sake for him to acknowledge it but had to be realistic and accept it was unlikely. Dirty little secrets were the children of mistresses, not the children of one-night stands you’d blocked all contact with.
He looked her up and down with a smug arrogance that made her fingers itch to slap off his face. ‘I don’t know, I’ve always rated the way you pour drinks.’
Hurt and loathing filling her veins like poison, Layla folded her arms across her chest. ‘You only requested that I tend your bar because you like to look at me.’ Long, lingering looks that had made her all hot and fizzy inside. ‘If I looked like a goblin you would never have given me a second glance, now transfer the money.’
‘It’s Friday evening.’
‘And? Personal transfers can be made at any time.’
‘I can’t just transfer five million euros in one sitting. There are procedures.’
‘Sebastiano, you own your own bank. You, personally, dragged it into the digital age. I know you can transfer the money so that it hits my account immediately, so do it because, I promise you, you won’t be leaving that bed until it’s done. And it’s five million pounds.’
The satisfaction at Sebastiano’s latest flash of incredulity was almost worth the danger that came with cuffing one of the richest men in the world to a bed and demanding money from him. Layla had long suspected his assumption that because she had a pretty face and worked in a role of subservience, it meant she didn’t have two brain cells to rub together. Having it confirmed carried a bitter tinge though, more proof that he thought nothing of her other than as a body he desired. What lay between her ears was dismissed. Arrogant and spoilt he might be but, over the last two years, Layla had grown to like him as more than just sex on legs. She’d grown to like him.
Sebastiano had always thought Layla the most chameleon-like of all the Diamond Club staff but this was a side to her he would never have guessed she possessed. For two years she’d played the role of attentive bar tender to him with barely a hint to her lurking intelligence. He happily admitted to himself that this was a side to her he found very sexy. As incredible as it was to believe, the whole situation was sexy.
But she couldn’t seriously think she would get away with this?
‘Aren’t you worried about the repercussions?’
She pulled a face. ‘If you want to call the police and tell them the great Sebastiano Russo was arrogant enough to think a woman he’d bedded and then ghosted would willingly go to bed with him again and that he was arrogant enough to fall into her trap then be my guest. You won’t have a shred of evidence to support your allegations and I’ll deny everything.’
‘I never said anything about involving the police,’ he refuted silkily. ‘I prefer to deal with situations in my own way, and it wasn’t arrogance that made me think you wanted me again, it was experience. You might have seduced me for revenge and monetary gain but I know damn well that you were as turned on when giving me that massage as I was.’ And he would use her desire to his advantage when he took his revenge. Already a multitude of scenarios were percolating in his head.
Colour flamed her cheeks but she didn’t back down. ‘If you think I still want you then I have to question whether you were dropped on your head.’
He flared his nostrils. ‘I can still smell your arousal, cara.’
Skin still aflame, she tightened her folded arms. ‘Stop with the mind games. None of this is for me, it’s for our child, so transfer the money because I’m getting sick of your procrastination.’
He pretended to consider it. As if there were a child! They’d used protection! This was one elaborate hoax by a woman he’d scorned and severely underestimated.
She sighed into the silence. ‘Okay, if you won’t give me the money for our child...’ She shook her head, the expression on her beautiful face morphing into one of deep regret. ‘It would be a real shame if the press were tipped off that the owner of the famed international banking group Russo Banca was so careless with his own money that he lost a billion euros overnight on an investment he knew was going bad. Imagine what that would do to your reputation. Imagine what your fellow billionaires who entrust their wealth with you would think if they learned you can’t be trusted to manage your own wealth.’
Layla had no idea where this threat had come from—it had reeled off her tongue before her brain could catch up and stop it—and was having to fight hard to stop the fear gripping her heart from showing on her face.
This was going way too far and now she was digging herself a massive hole by antagonising and threatening him. Baiting the big cat that was already biding its time to pounce and sink its teeth into her neck was the height of idiocy.
None of this was going how she’d envisaged. Call her naive but she’d talked herself into believing Sebastiano would take one look at the scan picture of their baby and immediately transfer the money just to get rid of her. He’d made it patently clear he wanted nothing more to do with her. She was a warm body to him, nothing else.
Once she’d accepted she was pregnant, she’d bitten the bullet and dialled his number. She’d dialled into fresh air. He’d either blocked her or got rid of his phone. A text message that failed to deliver proved it was the former. He’d blocked her.
Trying to get hold of him through his bank had been a nightmare of comic proportions. It had taken a week of near-constant calls and emails before she reached the heady heights of his personal office. She’d left numerous messages for him to call her. At her wits’ end, she’d gone as far as to tell a snooty woman that she needed to speak to Sebastiano because she was pregnant with his child. The woman had sighed and said in the most condescending voice imaginable that this was a business line and any calls of a personal nature should be made to Mr Russo’s personal phone, and that if she called the business number again a restraining order would be sought, before hanging up on her.
Terrified, knowing that to hack the Diamond Club’s computer system to get Sebastiano’s personal details was not only impossible but that to even attempt it would end in her imprisonment, Layla knew she had to keep her employment at the club going until he made his next visit there, and so had called Lazlo asking if she could extend her notice period. As the Diamond Club’s recruitment procedure was intricate and lengthy—all staff were vetted so heavily they made the security services seem lax—he still hadn’t found a replacement for her and had been happy to agree.
All she had to do was wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Before their night together, Sebastiano had been a regular visitor, gracing the club at least once a month. Since that night, so much time had passed without his presence that whispers circulated amongst the staff that he was going to resign his membership.
Layla couldn’t even contemplate that happening. She had to believe he would show again.
In the weeks and weeks of waiting, her plans on how to tell him had shifted like sand, but it wasn’t until the scan the week before that the route she had to take had solidified in her mind. It was listening to her baby’s heartbeat that had done it. The clutch of her own heart followed by the explosion that had rippled into every cell in her body, an explosion of love that had turned Layla into a big cat herself whose only purpose in life was to protect her unborn child.
Sebastiano would never accept her child. Her child would be worse than a dirty secret to him. He didn’t want Layla. Even with proof he would likely disbelieve her and throw her out of his suite and probably out of the entire club too, and she would be left to raise a child in a part of London only the foolish or desperate ventured into at night. And so she’d brought the handcuffs. Just to stop him from throwing her out. To force him to give her the money she needed before he hid himself in a cloak of expensive lawyers like her own father had done twenty-four years ago.
Darkness flashed in the green pools holding her gaze before he gave another chilling smile. ‘You signed a watertight confidentiality agreement, Layla. Break it and you won’t just lose the money you’re blackmailing out of me. I will personally see that you lose everything.’
As frightened as she was, she’d dug this hole and now she had no choice but to stand in it and hold her nerve. ‘I can’t be the only person who knows about the loss so you’d have to prove that it was me who tipped the press off. You must know that journalists always protect their sources.’
‘Everyone has a price,’ he said sardonically.
‘And mine is five million pounds. For you, that’s loose change.’
The smile back on his face, he contemplated her lazily for a few nerve-wracking moments too long then gave a brisk nod of his head and stretched his uncuffed hand for his phone. ‘I can see you will not accept no as an answer so let’s get this done.’