His Mistress By Blackmail

CHAPTER THREE

SHE SHOULDN’T HAVE said that.

It had been unnecessary. And stupidly provocative. An emotional response when she should’ve given a calm, clinical dismissal. Just like she’d trained herself to. Bullies fed on emotional reactions. Hadn’t she learned that the long, hard way as a teenager?

So why did she say that? Why had she provoked him?

Probably because she’d wanted to annoy the overbearing man the same way he’d annoyed her by interrupting her training session. The session she’d paid hard-earned money for. The private session she used to settle herself and regain her peace of mind. Sage wasn’t ashamed to admit she needed these sessions like she needed oxygen. A successful audition was her ultimate goal, of course, but to her dancing would always be more than a career. She’d sacrificed so much to even get here.

She’d had more right to be on that stage than he had. So why had she walked away like that?

Because those silver-grey eyes and all that leashed animal power had threatened to knock every piece of common sense out of her head the moment he’d prowled to the edge of the stage and stared up at her from a position that should’ve been inferior, but had somehow made her feel small and vulnerable. Singled out. In a way that awakened disturbing memories. And yet it’d been a little different...

Or perhaps it’d been the moment he’d leaped oh-so-gracefully onto the stage and prowled towards her like a marauding predator intent on prying the information he needed from her.

Regardless of that, she should’ve stepped up to him and just coolly dismissed the man. But no. Once again, she’d let her control slip, lashed out in response to Xandro Christofides’s deliberate baiting.

She’d threatened him with bodily harm, for goodness’ sake, when she of all people knew how destructive that was!

Sage suppressed a shiver at the unwanted memories, and hurried along the back corridor that led to the locker rooms of the Washington Performance School.

Her skin still tingled from the charged almost-contact with Xandro Christofides. She could hear his deep, rumbling voice in her ear, feel the electricity sparking from him sizzling along her nerve endings.

‘You will tell me when you last spoke to him, and where I can find him.’

No please or thank you from the infuriating man. She was certain he was like that all the time, tossing orders around like confetti at a wedding and expecting people to jump.

Except she’d stopped jumping at orders, had drawn a very painful, but definitive line at being controlled. She was no longer willing to be anyone’s puppet, to have her strings pulled this way or that to suit what her parents deemed her destiny. It had come at a huge cost—one she was still paying.

She wasn’t about to let the enigmatic stranger add to her woes.

Good heavens, he’d been too much. Too handsome, too incisive, too...everything! And he’d probably seen through her half-truth.

It was true she had no idea where Ben was. They weren’t scheduled to make their pledged once-a-month call for another two weeks, and the last she’d heard from him he’d still been in Las Vegas.

Dear God, Ben, what have you done?

Her brother had grown increasingly bitter over the last year, his side of their conversations turning rant-filled with constant laments on his favourite subject lately—the financial disparity between the classes.

He shouldn’t have been in a place like Vegas in the first place. Not when it’d become heartbreakingly clear he was developing a gambling problem six months ago. She’d urged him to seek help. He’d vehemently denied the existence of the problem but he’d made a reluctant promise to call and check in once a month so she wouldn’t worry.

She only had Xandro Christofides’s word that her brother had stolen from him but Sage knew in her bones that it was highly likely to be true.

So should she have stayed to talk to Christofides? Pleaded on her brother’s behalf even before she knew for sure he’d done anything wrong?

No. She owed Xandro Christofides nothing, and her instincts warned her he was the type to take a mile when given an inch. She didn’t have an inch to give. Not when each day that passed was a reminder that her every inch she’d given had got her nowhere. When it’d come right down to it she’d been left on her own. Her parents had chosen their business, their precious way of life, over her.

Only Ben had been there for her. Only he had believed her.

Her loyalty was to her brother, not the boss who looked as if he chewed rocks for breakfast. Sage slammed the locker shut and hitched her backpack over her shoulder. In return for what Ben had done for her, she was prepared to stand up to a hundred Xandro Christofideses.

Except only one of them stood tall and proud and immovable before her when she stepped out of the side entrance onto the quiet side street in Washington, DC.

If she’d thought he looked intimidating in the low lights of the auditorium, the man in front of her looked downright terrifying despite the civilised bespoke clothing he wore.

Her hand tightened around the strap of the backpack as she fought a wave of panic.

Walk away. Just keep walking.

‘I guess I was right in thinking you’re not great at taking no for an answer. What are you going to do this time, kidnap me?’ Damn. She really needed to find a way to get her tongue to obey her brain.

Brooding eyes rested on her. ‘I wish you no harm. And while it’s rare, Miss Woods, I’ve been known to accept no on occasion. What I find unacceptable, however, are lies. I know you’re lying about your knowledge of your brother’s whereabouts.’ The words were clipped, coated in cold steel.

Icy fingers whispered down her spine, but Sage forced herself not to react with another outburst. ‘And you intend to prove that how, exactly?’ she asked coolly.

His jaw flexed and he seemed to grow larger before her even though he didn’t move an inch. ‘Word to the wise: don’t toy with me. I have very little patience for this exercise. Your brother has taken something very valuable to me. The quicker you work with me to ensure its safe return, the more...lenient I’m prepared to be.’

Her mouth dried. Then she caught the tail end of his words. ‘Are you saying you haven’t reported him yet?’ There was more than a little hope in her voice. And he heard it.

Heard it and was less than thrilled about it, if the harsh twist of his lips was anything to go by.

‘No such luck, Miss Woods. The authorities in Vegas have been informed of the theft and your brother will face the consequences of his actions when I find him, but you can help mitigate the extent of his punishment by telling me where he is now.’

Her breath snagged in her lungs. ‘You want me to help you put my own brother behind bars?’ she whispered in a voice that felt as weak as her legs.

‘He’s committed a crime. Are you naive enough to think he can walk away from it scot-free?’ the powerful man in front of her demanded.

She swallowed. ‘I have nothing else to say to you so if that’s all you’re here for—’

‘Are you sure you wish to make an enemy of me?’

‘What I wish is to be left alone, Mr Christofides. So far all I have is your word that Ben has done anything wrong. Do you even have any proof that he stole...whatever it is you say he stole?’

‘One hundred thousand dollars in cash and four pieces of jewellery totalling another hundred thousand dollars. And a priceless family heirloom.’

That last one. Sage heard the peculiar note in his voice and knew it was the last item that had brought Xandro Christofides across the country to her doorstep. She wanted to ask what it was, why it was so important to him. But to do so would mean remaining in his presence, under his control, attempting to withstand those intense magnetic waves lashing at her. It would also give him the impression that she believed him.

‘I’m sorry you’ve lost your belongings. But I can’t help you.’

Sage intended to walk away after that final statement. Head down the side street, turn left and walk to the subway station that would take her home to the townhouse she shared with six other dancers in Georgetown.

But for some reason she couldn’t move. The look in his piercing, narrowed eyes wouldn’t let her. The chilling message in them told her to rethink her course of action. For one blind moment, she wanted to confess that she believed him. That she knew her brother was capable of everything Xandro Christofides was accusing him of. That she would help him find Ben if he promised the leniency he’d hinted at.

The faint pain in her right wrist, the result of a fracture that had never quite healed properly, dragged her back to reality. She tightened her hand on her backpack, silently centring herself on what was important.

Ben deserved her loyalty. Always.

‘Goodbye, Mr Christofides.’

For a taut few seconds he didn’t answer. Then, ‘Goodnight, Miss Woods.’

There was no inflexion in his response, no indication that they would ever meet again. But as she walked away Sage couldn’t stop the tingling at her nape or the premonition that the billionaire hotelier boss her brother had griped about for several months was far from done with her.

* * *

It was that premonition that kept her awake long into the following six nights, even though she continued to reassure herself he had no power over her. She’d refused his demands and walked away. End of story.

Except she’d spent long hours frantically calling her brother’s phone with frustrated tears brimming her eyes when her messages filled his inbox and she finally had to give up. Sleep was a snatched few hours before she had to be up and ready to head to her day job as a barista in the coffee shop attached to the Hunter Dance Company.

Sage had been lucky to land the job after another dancer had won a coveted full-time job as one of the Hunter Dance Company’s performers, although it was a bittersweet one since her ultimate ambition was to win that same place as a Hunter contemporary dancer.

She didn’t make the cut at the last auditions but since then she’d put in an extra five hours of training per week. She would be ready for the auditions next month. She had to be. Her meagre savings had dwindled to almost nothing, with everything she made from working in the coffee shop going to pay for food and her exorbitant rent. She needed to land a proper full-time job soon.

Because the alternative didn’t bear thinking about. She had to succeed because going back home wasn’t an option. She’d closed that door. Until her parents accepted her it would stay shut. After three years the painful memories remained as sharp as ever. But to stay in Virginia, waiting to take over the reins of the generations-old hotel and B & B business they ran, would’ve been to give in and then suffer a slow withering of her spirit.

Thoughts of her parents threatened to induce the despair she’d fought so hard to suppress. So instead she turned her thoughts to her brother.

And again her heart dipped with alarm. Thankfully, Xandro Christofides hadn’t made a return visit to the Performance School. Although that had surprised her a little, her paramount emotion was relief.

Now all she needed was to hear from Ben and get his side of the story. Hopefully he’d have an acceptable explanation so they could put this incident behind them.

‘Morning, sunshine—uh, scratch that. I feel like that should be Morning, rain clouds. Everything okay?’ Michael, her co-worker and a fellow dancer, stepped behind the counter and stared at her with a frown.

Sage slipped her phone into her apron pocket and summoned a smile. ‘I’m fine. Thanks,’ she tagged on when he continued to stare at her sceptically.

‘I’m not sure I totally believe that, but anyway, what I’m about to tell you will put some happy in your step. Guaranteed!’

‘Okay, I’m all ears,’ she responded, simply because she needed something to take her mind off worrying about Ben, and whether the enigmatic Greek tycoon she’d wasted time Internet-searching had found her brother yet.

‘You know we were told there were only three places for the audition spots next month?’

Her heart dipped and she clenched her belly in preparation for bad news. ‘Yes?’

‘Well, I hear there are six spots now!’

Sage gasped. ‘Really? How come?’

‘Because we have a new patron.’

She refused to let hope soar. Not when this might be second or even third-hand gossip. ‘Are you sure?’

Michael shrugged. ‘It’s all hush-hush, but the director’s been locked in meetings off-site for the last two days. I hear she’s contorting herself into the godmother of pretzel positions to accommodate this new patron.’

Sage frowned, the hope she didn’t want to entertain, dimming a little. ‘How could you possibly know that?’

Michael looked a little hurt. ‘Because I trust my source. If they say Hunter has a new patron waiting in the wings, then I believe them.’

She sighed under her breath. ‘I’m not doubting you, Michael. It’s just that we’ve been down this road before and—’

‘Yes, I know. Sure, last time my intel that we had a new patron turned out to be false. But this came straight from the top.’

Sage nodded but kept her scepticism to herself. Even with six spots instead of three the odds were tough, considering there were twenty dancers vying for the positions.

If Michael was right, they’d find out soon enough.

At the Washington Performance School after her shift, she practised and tweaked her seven-minute routine for three hours before she took her first break.

When the faint tingling in her wrist started again, she suppressed the familiar unease that came with it.

‘If you can’t stand a little schoolyard competition, how will you make it on the big stage you so selfishly crave?’

She pushed her father’s heavy, condemning voice away and reminded herself how far she’d come. She was good enough. Her wrist was strong enough. Ultimately, she had Ben to thank for her healing too, because he was the only one who’d believed her.

A little desperate to hear his voice, she sent him another frantic message. Then, with an hour to burn until she was allotted another training slot, she found herself returning to the Internet search for Xandro Christofides.

The man was richer than Croesus, with a touch more potent than Midas if the financial media was to be believed. Coupled with dark, brooding, drop-dead gorgeous looks, it was no wonder there were reams of articles written about him. Except most of them only went back to his early twenties, when he’d graduated from Harvard with a business degree in finance and hotel management and a business plan that had seen him become a multimillionaire within two years.

Now thirty-three, Xandro Christofides had taken that same plan and turned himself into a casino and hotel magnate, providing first-class luxury and decadence to the richest of the rich.

Before twenty-one, nothing could be found on the man, save for the rumour that he’d grown up in the roughest suburbs of New York. That explained the layer of hard ruthlessness that clung to him despite his designer clothes and feline grace.

A layer that attracted beautiful women to the enigmatic man. Picture after picture showed him with dazzling females smiling up at him, clinging to his arm, their possessiveness blatant. All while he stared stony-faced into the camera.

Xandro Christofides was a stranger to the art of smiling. Sure, their encounter so far hadn’t lent itself towards affable banter, but she doubted he smiled at any other time. He didn’t seem the type. In fact, he seemed impervious to anything besides making money and dating beautiful women.

A quick look through his company history also showed he was one hundred per cent owner of every venture, with no collaborations or business partners. He’d even stated as much during an interview.

‘I prefer complete control. I don’t like to share. What is mine belongs only to me.’

Apprehension danced down her spine. The man was addicted to control. It spoke volumes that he had travelled from the West Coast in search of Ben when he could’ve let the authorities or the many minions in his employ deal with it.

So why had he just given up?

Sage noticed she’d been staring at his image for five minutes and grimaced. Resolutely, she cancelled the search then returned to her training.

Four hours later, exhausted, she let herself into the townhouse where she lived. At almost ten o’clock on a Friday night the house was thankfully empty, the other dancers having hit the town. In the kitchen, she fixed herself a quick sandwich, then dug through her rucksack for the five-pound dumbbell she always carried with her. She was halfway through her wrist-strengthening routine when her phone blared to life.

She stared at the number on her screen for a startled second before she slid her thumb across the screen. ‘Hello?’

‘Miss Woods?’ a no-nonsense female voice enquired.

‘Yes?’

‘This is Melissa Hunter, director of the Hunter Dance Company.’

‘Uh...hi.’

‘My apologies for calling you so late,’ the director said.

‘That’s okay.’ Sage stopped and cleared her throat, setting her dumbbell down to grip the edge of the kitchen counter. ‘How can I help you?’ she asked cautiously.

‘I have news on the next set of auditions.’

Sage’s grip tightened, her heart diving into her stomach. ‘Okay...’

‘The company’s circumstances have changed a little and we’ve decided to bring the auditions forward. Next Tuesday, to be precise. Successful applicants will be given a place in the next Hunter Dance Company production slated for September. I know this is short notice, but if you still wish to be a part of it I need a yes tonight.’

Sage stared blindly into space for a shocked three seconds before her brain kicked into gear. ‘I...of course. My answer is yes. To all of it!’

‘Great. My assistant will be in touch in the morning with further details.’

‘Thank you, Miss Hunter.’

‘You’re welcome. Oh, before I go, you should know that these auditions are going to be held off-site.’

‘That won’t be a problem,’ Sage hurriedly reassured.

‘Good. My assistant will require your travel documents when she calls. Be sure to have them ready. We’re very pressed for time.’

‘Thank you,’ she murmured again. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘I have other dancers to contact, Miss Woods. Expect my assistant’s call.’ She hung up abruptly, leaving Sage staring at the dead phone in her hand.

A full minute later, the enormity of the call sank in but the smile that broke over her face dimmed all too soon when she realised she had no one to celebrate her news with.

Calling her parents was out of the question. They would have no interest in her news. Not when they’d dismissed her passion and chosen career as callously as they’d dismissed what the bullies at her high school had put her through.

‘Havenwoods is your legacy. That’s all that matters.’