Bedding The Billionaire(34)

He glanced around the room. It was tiny. A desk was crammed up against the wall. A metal, three-drawer filing cabinet squatted in a corner and two chairs sandwiched the desk. A coffee machine was the only other piece of furniture in the room, and the desk had a small plant and a laptop computer on it. The office was compact but clean.

Nick sat in one of the chairs, thrust his legs out in front of him and closed his eyes. He might have to wait a while. But he didn't care. He wanted some answers and he was damned if he was leaving without them.

Nick opened his eyes and stood. This was frustrating. He glanced around and his eyes rested on the desk. A large yellow envelope was the most prominently displayed thing there. There was nothing written on the front. Nick glanced at the door, then back at the desk. The envelope was unsealed so he could look at the contents without tampering with it.

He reached across the desk and picked it up, but paused. Damn it, this was important. He'd been lied to, someone was trying to set him up for something, and he had a right to know what was going on.

He flipped open the flap and pulled out three large photographs.

Abbey's naked body was clearly recognizable, even though her face was hidden in his shoulder. His face, and everything else, was there to be seen in all its glory.

Nick's face heated up. A flash of red passed before his eyes and his heart beat trebled. So he was right. He was about to be blackmailed. But why? Who cared who he slept with?

The only possibility he could think of, was that someone knew he was posing as Vane and wanted to prove it to ruin his company's reputation. But why obtain photos of him having sex with a strange woman? That was odd and didn't add up. It would make more sense to get photos of him at the seminar wearing his Damien Vane name tag.

Damn. When he found out what was going on, he'd make the blackmailer pay. But first, he'd start with Abbey and her friend Lucy.

Nick tossed the photos and the envelope back on the table. He turned to the filing cabinet but it was locked. He rounded the desk and rifled through the drawers but there were no keys and no papers to indicate who Lucy's client was.

He turned his attention to the laptop. He switched it on and waited impatiently for it to boot up. It was password protected. He tried a couple of words, then realized he didn't have a clue about Lucy so guessing her password was out of the question.

He let out a low growl and slumped into the chair.

The photos were clearly taken from a building across the road from his hotel suite. The thought that someone had been watching them annoyed him. 

The thought that Abbey had only had sex with him to set him up to gain incriminating evidence made his furious.

She may not be a hooker, but she'd still slept with him to get money. It was all the same.

Nick shifted in the chair, tapped his fingers on the desk and stood. He paced the room three times, considering what he wanted to say to Abbey when he saw her, when two shadows darkened the corridor outside the door.

Then the door rattled.

"Hey," came a female voice, Lucy's, "someone's been tampering with my door."



Tarken put his feet on his desk and sifted through the brochures he'd received from the software companies. When he came to Software Solutions' brochure he sat up straight.

Damn that Vane fellow. He had a nerve speaking to him that way today, as if he was more than just a software salesman. Tarken flipped open the brochure and scanned it. It was as dull as the demo had been.

He threw it in the trash and returned his feet to the desk, leaning back in his leather chair. After a moment's thought he picked up the phone, dialed Abbey's apartment but got her machine. He left a message to call him. There was a cocktail party he wanted to invite her to tomorrow night for the seminar attendees. He wanted to get in before Vane did.

Vane. Damn him. Abbey was still his girlfriend. He'd dazzle her tomorrow night, treat her like a princess and show her what a nobody Vane was. It would drive the salesman insane with jealousy.

He picked the brochure out of the trash, located the Sydney phone number and dialed. A chirpy receptionist answered.

"This is Tarken Pratt from JJC Pharmaceuticals in Melbourne. I'd like to speak to your CEO please."

"Mr. Delaware isn't in the office today, can I take a message?"

"Delaware? Do you mean Nick Delaware?"

"Yes. Is there anyone else here who can help you, sir?"

Not unless they're high up enough to fire Damien Vane.

"No. When's Delaware back in the office?"

"Monday."

He hung up. So Delaware was the CEO of Software Solutions. Tarken was impressed. He'd read about Delaware's rise to riches in Business Review Weekly. The article had said he was one of the richest men in Australia and he'd got there by sheer hard work and impressive financial skill. There was no doubt about it, Delaware was an investment genius and not someone to be crossed. The guy was loaded.