Kidnapped For The Tycoon's Baby

“This baby is mine, too, Nola. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

When Nola Mason gives in to an explosive fling with her arrogant boss, Ramsay Walker, she believes she’ll never see him again. Let alone that her stormy affair will have nine-month consequences! Knowing the pain of a chaotic childhood, Nola is determined to raise her child alone...

When he discovers the truth, Ram has other ideas! There’s only one way to ensure Nola sees sense—steal her away to his rain forest hideaway, and with the sultry heat fueling their incendiary passion, entice her to marry him!

Nola felt her stomach flip over, and images from that night they’d spent together exploded inside her head like popping corn. Suddenly her whole body was quivering, and it was all she could do not to lean over and kiss Ramsay, to give in to that impulse to taste and touch that beautiful mouth once again…

Gripping the underside of the hard plastic chair, she steadied herself. And, taking a quick breath, forced herself to meet his eyes head-on. ‘You said you wanted to finish this, Ram, but we can’t,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Because it never started. It was just a one-night stand, remember?’

‘Oh, I remember every single moment of that night. As I’m sure you do, Nola.’

His eyes gleamed, and instantly her pulse began to accelerate.

‘Only this isn’t about just one night any more. Our one-night stand has got long-term consequences.’ He gestured towards her stomach.

‘But not for you.’ She looked up at him stubbornly, her blue eyes wide with frustration. ‘Whatever connection we had, it ended a long time ago.’

‘Given that you’re pregnant with my child, that would seem to be a little premature and counter-intuitive,’ he said softly.

Secret Heirs of Billionaires

There are some things money can’t buy…

Living life at lightning pace, these magnates are no strangers to stakes at their highest. It seems they’ve got it all… That is until they find out that there’s an unplanned item to add to their list of accomplishments!

Achieved:

1. Successful business empire.

2. Beautiful women in their bed.

3. An heir to bear their name?

Though every billionaire needs to leave his legacy in safe hands, discovering a secret heir shakes up his carefully orchestrated plan in more ways than one!

Uncover their secrets in:

Unwrapping the Castelli Secret by Caitlin Crews

Brunetti’s Secret Son by Maya Blake

The Secret to Marrying Marchesi by Amanda Cinelli

Demetriou Demands His Child by Kate Hewitt

The Desert King’s Secret Heir by Annie West

The Sheikh’s Secret Son by Maggie Cox

The Innocent’s Shameful Secret by Sara Craven

The Greek’s Pleasurable Revenge by Andie Brock

The Secret Kept from the Greek by Susan Stephens

Carrying the Spaniard’s Child by Jennie Lucas

Look out for more stories in the Secret Heirs of Billionaires series coming soon!

Kidnapped for the Tycoon’s Baby

Louise Fuller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LOUISE FULLER was a tomboy who hated pink and always wanted to be the Prince—not the Princess! Now she enjoys creating heroines who aren’t pretty push-overs but strong, believable women. Before writing for Mills & Boon she studied literature and philosophy at university, and then worked as a reporter on her local newspaper. She lives in Tunbridge Wells with her impossibly handsome husband, Patrick, and their six children.

Books by Louise Fuller

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

Blackmailed Down the Aisle

Claiming His Wedding Night

A Deal Sealed by Passion

Vows Made in Secret

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.uk. for more titles.

For Adrian. My brother, and one of the good guys.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Secret Heirs of Billionaires

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘I’M SORRY ABOUT THIS, Ms Mason. But don’t worry. I’ll get you there on time, just like always.’

Feeling the car slow, Nola Mason looked up from her laptop and frowned, her denim-blue eyes almost black within the dark interior of the sleek executive saloon.

Glancing out of the window, she watched a flatbed truck loaded with cones lumber slowly through the traffic lights. There had been some kind of parade in Sydney over the weekend, and the police and street cleaners were still dealing with the aftermath.

Thankfully, though, at five o’clock on Monday morning the traffic was limited to just a few buses and a handful of cars and, closing her laptop, she leaned towards her driver.

‘I know you will, John. And please don’t worry. I’m just relieved to have you.’

Relieved, and grateful, for not only was John punctual and polite, he also had near photographic recall of Sydney’s daunting grid of streets.

As the car began to move again she shifted in her seat. Even after two months of working for the global tech giant RWI it still felt strange—fraudulent, even—having a chauffeur-driven limo at her disposal. She was a cyber architect, not a celebrity! But Ramsay Walker, the company’s demanding and maddeningly autocratic CEO, had insisted on it.

Her mouth twisted. It had been the first time she’d objected to something, only to have Ramsay overrule her, but it hadn’t been the last. His dictatorial behaviour and her stubborn determination to make a stand had ensured that they clashed fiercely at every subsequent meeting.

But now it was nearly over. Tomorrow was her last day in Sydney and, although, she and her partner Anna were still under contract to troubleshoot any problems in the RWI cyber security framework, they would do so from their office in Edinburgh.

She breathed out softly. And what a relief to finally be free of that intense grey gaze! Only, why then did what she was feeling seem more like regret than relief?

Glancing up at the imposing RWI building, she felt her heart begin beating hard and high in her chest. But right now was not the time to indulge in amateur psychology. She was here to work—and, if she was lucky, at this time of the morning she could expect a good two to three hours of uninterrupted access to the security system.

But as she walked past the empty bays in the visitor parking area some of her optimism wilted as she spotted a familiar black Bentley idling in front of the main entrance.

Damn it! She was in no mood for small talk—particularly with the owner of that car—and, ducking her chin, she began to walk faster. But she was not fast enough. Almost as she drew level with the car, the door opened and a man slid out. A woman’s voice followed him into the early-morning light, together with the faintest hint of his cologne.

‘But, baby, why can’t it wait?’ she wheedled. ‘Come on—we can go back to mine. I’ll make it worth your while...’

Unable to stop herself, Nola stole a glance at the man. Predictably, her breath stumbled in her throat and, gritting her teeth, she began to walk faster. She couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t need to. She would recognise that profile, that languid yet predatory manner anywhere. It was her boss—Ramsay Walker. In that car, at this time of the morning, it was always her boss.

Only the women were different each time.

Ignoring the sudden slick of heat on her skin, she stalked into the foyer. She felt clumsy and stupid, a mix of fear and restlessness and longing churning inside of her. But longing for what?

Working fourteen-hour days, and most weekends, she had no time for romance. And besides, she knew nobody in Sydney except the people in this building, and there was no way she would ever have a relationship with a colleague again. Not after what had happened with Connor.

Remembering all the snide glances, and the way people would stop talking when she walked by, she winced inwardly. It had been bad enough that everyone had believed the gossip. What had been so hurtful—so hurtful that she’d still never told anyone, not even her best friend and business partner, Anna—was that it had been Connor who’d betrayed her. Betrayed her and then abandoned her—just like her father had.

It had been humiliating, debilitating, but finally she had understood that love and trust were not necessarily symbiotic or two-way. She’d learnt her lesson, and she certainly wasn’t about to forget it for an office fling.

She glanced back to where the woman was still pleading with Ramsay. Gazing at the broad shoulders beneath the crumpled shirt and the tousled surfer hair, Nola felt her heart thudding so loudly she thought one of the huge windows might shatter.

Workplace flings were trouble. But with a man like him it would be trouble squared. Cubed, even.

And anyway her life was too complicated right now for romance. This was the biggest job Cyber Angels had ever taken on, and with Anna away on her honeymoon she was having to manage alone, and do so with a brain and a body that were still struggling to get over three long-haul flights in as many weeks.

Trying to ignore the swell of panic rising inside her, she smiled mechanically at the security guard as he checked her security card. Reaching inside her bag, she pulled out her lift pass—and felt her stomach plummet as it slipped from her fingers and landed on the floor beside a pair of handmade Italian leather loafers.

‘Allow me.’

The deep, masculine voice made her scalp freeze. Half turning, she forced a smile onto her face as she took the card from the man’s outstretched hand.

‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’

Turning, she walked quickly towards the lift, her skin tightening with irritation and a sort of feverish apprehension, as Ramsay Walker strolled alongside her, his long strides making it easy for him to keep pace.

As the lift doors opened it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she would use the stairs. But, given that her office was on the twenty-first floor, she knew it would simply make her look churlish or—worse—as though she cared about sharing the lift with him.

‘Early start!’

Her skin twitched in an involuntary response to his languid East Coast accent, and she allowed herself a brief glance at his face. Instantly she regretted it. His dark grey eyes were watching her casually...a lazy smile tugged at his beautiful mouth. A mouth that had been kissing her all over every night since she’d first met him—but only in her dreams.

Trying to subdue the heat of her thoughts, praying that her face showed nothing of their content, she shrugged stiffly. ‘I’m a morning person.’

‘Is that right?’ he drawled. ‘I like the night-time myself.’

Night-time. The words whispered inside her head and she felt her body react to the darkness and danger it implied, her pulse slowing, goosebumps prickling over her skin. Only how was it possible to create such havoc with just a handful of syllables? she thought frantically.

‘Really?’ Trying her hardest to ignore the strange tension throbbing between them, she forced her expression into what she hoped looked like boredom and, glancing away, stared straight ahead. ‘And yet here you are.’

She felt his gaze on the side of her face.

‘Well, I got waylaid at a party...’

Remembering the redhead in the car, she felt a sharp nip of jealousy as stifling a yawn, he stretched his arms back behind his shoulders, the gesture somehow implying more clearly than words exactly what form that waylaying had taken.

‘It seemed simpler to come straight to work. I take it you weren’t out partying?’

His voice was soft, and yet it seemed to hook beneath her skin so that suddenly she had no option but to look up at him.

‘Not my scene. I need my sleep,’ she said crisply.

She knew she sounded prudish. But better that than to give this man even a hint of encouragement. Not that he needed any—he clearly believed himself to be irresistible. And, judging by his hit rate with women, he was right.

He laughed softly. ‘You need to relax. Clio has a party most weekends. You should come along next time.’

‘Surely that would be up to Clio?’ she said primly, and he smiled—a curling, mocking smile that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

His eyes glittered. ‘If I’m happy, she’s happy.’

She gritted her teeth. Judging by the photos of supermodels with tear-stained faces, papped leaving his apartment, that clearly wasn’t true. Not that it was any of her business, she thought quickly as the lift stopped.

There was a short hiss as the doors opened, and then, turning to face him, Nola lifted her chin. ‘Thank you, but no. I never socialise with people at work. In my opinion, the disadvantages outweigh the benefits.’

His eyes inspected her lazily. ‘Then maybe you should let me change your opinion. I can be very persuasive.’

Her stomach dipped, and something treacherously soft and warm slipped over her skin as his grey gaze rested on her face. When he looked at her like that it was hard not to feel persuaded.

She drew a breath. Hard, but not impossible.

‘I don’t doubt that. Unfortunately, though, I always put workplace considerations above everything else.’

And before he had a chance to respond she slipped through the doors, just before they slid shut.

Her heart was racing. Her legs felt weak. Any woman would have been tempted by such an invitation. But she had been telling the truth.

Since her disastrous relationship with Connor, she had made a decision and stuck to it. Her work life and her personal life were two separate, concurrent strands, and she never mixed the two. She would certainly never date anyone from work. Or go to a party with them.

Particularly if the invitation came from her boss.

Remembering the way his eyes had drifted appraisingly over her face, she shivered.

And most especially not if that boss was Ramsay Walker.

In business, he was heralded as a genius, and he was undeniably handsome and sexy. But Ramsay Walker was the definition of trouble.

Okay, she knew with absolute certainty that sex with him would be mind-blowing. How could it not be? The man was a force of nature made flesh and blood—the human personification of a hurricane or a tsunami. But that was why he was so dangerous. He might be powerful, intense, unstoppable, but he also left chaos and destruction behind him.

Even if she didn’t believe all the stories in the media about his womanising, she had witnessed it with her own eyes. Ramsay clearly valued novelty and variety above all else. And, if that wasn’t enough of a warning to stay well away, he’d also publicly and repeatedly stated his desire never to marry or have children.

Not that she was planning on doing either any time soon. She and her mother had done fine on their own, but getting involved on any level with a man who seemed so determinedly opposed to such basic human connections just wasn’t an option. It had taken too long to restore her pride and build up a good reputation, to throw either away for a heartbreaking smile.

Three hours later, though, she was struggling to defend both.

* * *

In the RWI boardroom silence had fallen as the man at the head of the table leaned back in his chair, his casual stance at odds with the dark intensity of his gaze. A gaze that was currently locked on Nola’s face.

‘So let me get this right,’ he observed softly. ‘What you’re trying to say is that I’m being naive. Or complacent.’

A pulse of anger leapfrogged over his skin.

Did she really think she was going to get away with insulting him in his own boardroom? Ram thought, watching Nola blink, seeing anger, confusion and frustration colliding in those blue, blue eyes.

Eyes that made a man want to quench his thirst—and not for water. The same blue eyes that should have warned him to ignore her CV and glowing references and stick with men in grey suits who talked about algorithms and crypto-ransomware. But Nola Mason was not the kind of woman it was easy to ignore.

Refusing his invitation to meet at the office, she had insisted instead that they meet in some grimy café in downtown Sydney.

There, surrounded by surly teenagers in hoodies and bearded geeks, she had shown him just how easy it was to breach RWI’s security. It had been an impressive display—unorthodox, but credible and provocative.

Only not as provocative as the sight of her long slim legs and rounded bottom in tight black jeans, or the strip of smooth bare stomach beneath her T-shirt that he’d glimpsed when she reached over to the next table for a napkin.

It wasn’t love at first sight.

For starters, he didn’t believe in love.

Only, watching her talk, he had been knocked sideways by lust, by curiosity, by the challenge in those blue eyes. By whatever it was that triggered sexual attraction between two people. It had been beyond his conscious control, and he’d had to struggle not to pull her across the table by the long dark hair spilling onto the shoulders of her battered leather jacket.

But it was the dark blue velvet ribbon tied around her throat that had goaded his senses to the point where he had thought he was going to black out.

Those eyes, that choker, had made up his mind. In other words, he’d let his libido hire her.

It was the first time he’d ever allowed lust to dictate a business decision. And it would be the last, he thought grimly, glancing once again at the tersely written email she had sent him that morning. He gritted his teeth. If Ms Nola Mason was expecting him to pay more, she could damn well sing for it.

Nola swallowed, shifting in her seat. Her heart was pounding, and she was struggling to stay calm beneath the battleship-grey of Ram’s scrutiny. Most CEOs were exacting and autocratic, but cyber security was typically an area in which the boss was almost always willing to hand over leadership to an expert.

Only Ram was not a typical boss.

Right from that first interview it had been clear that not only was his reputation as the enfant terrible of the tech industry fully justified, but that, unusually, he could also demonstrate considerably more than a working knowledge of the latest big data technologies.

Truthfully, however, Ram’s intelligence wasn’t the only reason she found it so hard to confront him. His beauty, his innate self-confidence, and that still focus—the sense that he was watching her and only her—made her heart flip-flop against her ribs.

Her blue eyes flickered across the boardroom table to where he sat, lounging opposite her. It might be shallow, but who wouldn’t be affected by such blatant perfection? And it didn’t help that he appealed on so many different levels.

With grey eyes that seemed to lighten and darken in harmony with his moods, messy black hair, a straight nose, and a jaw permanently darkened with stubble, he might just as easily be a poet or a revolutionary as a CEO. And the hard definition of muscle beneath his gleaming white shirt only seemed to emphasise that contradiction even more.

Dragging her gaze back up to his face, Nola felt her nerves ball painfully. The tension in his jaw told her that she was balancing on eggshells. Concentrate, she told herself—surely she hadn’t meant to imply that he was naive or complacent?

‘No, that’s not what I’m saying,’ she said quickly, ignoring the faint sigh of relief that echoed round the table as she did so. She drew in a deep breath. ‘What you’re actually being is arrogant, and unreasonable.’

Somebody—she wasn’t sure who—gave a small whimper.

For a fraction of a second Ram thought he might have misheard her. Nobody called him arrogant or unreasonable. But, glancing across at Nola, he knew immediately that he’d heard her correctly.

Her cheeks were flushed, but she was eyeing him steadily, and he felt a flicker of anger and something like admiration. She was brave—he’d give her that. And determined. He knew his reputation, and it had been well and truly earned. His negotiating skills were legendary, and his single-minded ruthlessness had turned a loan from his grandfather into a global brand.

A pulse began to beat in his groin. Normally she would be emptying her desk by now. Only the humming in his blood seemed to block out all rational thought so that he felt dazed, disorientated by her accusation. But why? What was it about this woman that made it so difficult for him to stay focused?

He didn’t know. But whatever it was it had been instant and undeniable. When he’d walked into that coffee shop she had stood up, shaken his hand, and his body had reacted automatically—not just a spark but a fire starting in his blood and burning through his veins.

It had been devastating, unprecedented. At the time he’d assumed it was because she was so unlike any of the other women of his acquaintance. Women who would sacrifice anything and anyone to fit in, to make their lives smooth. Women who chose conformity and comfort over risk.

Nola took risks. That was obvious from the way she had dressed and behaved at her interview. He liked it that she broke the rules. Every single time he came into contact with her he liked it more—liked her more.

And she liked him too.

Only every single time she came into contact with him she gave him the brush-off. Or at least she tried too. But her eyes gave her away.

As though sensing his thoughts, Nola glanced up and looked away, her hand rising protectively to touch her throat. Instantly the pulse in his groin began to beat harder and faster.

He had never had to chase a woman before—let alone coax her into his bed. It was both maddening and unbelievably erotic.

At the thought of Nola in his bed, wearing nothing but that velvet choker, he felt a stab of sexual frustration so painful that he had to grip the arms of his chair to stop himself from groaning out loud.

‘That’s a pretty damning assessment, Ms Mason,’ he said softly. ‘Obviously if I thought you were being serious we’d be having a very different conversation. So I’m going to assume you’re trying to shock me into changing my mind.’

Nola took a breath. Her insides felt tight and a prickling heat was spreading up her spine. Could everyone else in the room feel the tension between her and Ram? Or was it all in her head?

Stupid question. She knew it was real—and not just real. It was dangerous. Whatever this thing was between them, it was clearly hazardous—not only to her reason but to her instinct for self-preservation. Why else was she picking a fight with the boss in public?

Abruptly he leaned forward, and as their eyes met she shivered. His gaze was so intent that suddenly it felt as though they were alone, facing each other like two Western gunslingers in a saloon bar.

‘Nice try! But I’m not that sensitive.’

Without warning the intensity faded from his handsome features and, glancing swiftly round the room, she knew her anger must look out of place—petulant, even. No doubt that had been his intention all along: to make her look emotional and unprofessional.