The Undercover Billionaire Read online

  Family had always been important to Wolf. How had she forgotten that?

  “I can’t let you,” she forced out, more a croak than anything else. “This isn’t a war, no matter what you might think, and you’re not judge, jury, and executioner. You don’t get to decide these things. And you certainly don’t get to take someone’s life, purely as revenge for someone you didn’t even know.”

  Wolf said nothing for a long time. Then very slowly he leaned forward, extending a finger toward the gun in her hand. She tensed, ready to pull the trigger, even though she knew it would be futile.

  But all he did was flick something on the stock and then he leaned back again, one corner of his mouth lifting minutely. “The safety,” he murmured. “Now you can shoot me.”

  God. So the safety had been on all this time.

  She felt like a fool, but she didn’t lower the gun. This was too important. This was her father’s life.

  “And you’re wrong,” he went on, never breaking eye contact. “I did know my father.”

  No, he had to be lying. That didn’t make any sense. “But you told me your father died.”

  “He did. But not before I was born.”

  “No,” she said blankly. “You told me that your father died and your mother had to give you away. And that you were adopted by Noah Tate.”

  “Yeah and that’s all true.”

  “How can it be true? If your father was alive?”

  The expression on his face was taut, something glittering in his eyes she didn’t understand. “Because Noah Tate was my father. My real father.”

  * * *

  Olivia’s face was dead white and her hand was trembling, the barrel of the gun dancing all around. Jesus, perhaps clicking the safety off had been a stupid idea. She was shaking so much she’d probably pull the trigger by mistake and end up shooting him.

  You got a death wish?

  Maybe he had. Maybe he simply wanted to give her the opportunity to stop him while she could. Or to at least feel like she could have stopped him.

  She wouldn’t pull that trigger, though. She wasn’t a killer.

  Unlike himself.

  “He can’t be your real father.” There was shock in her voice. “You told me he adopted you and the others because he couldn’t have children.”

  “He had a low sperm count when he was young and it gradually decreased as he got older. But it was enough to give him one kid.”

  She shook her head. “You were adopted. You told me—”

  “My mom left Dad before either of them knew she was pregnant. He only found out when I was given to the boys home, and his name was given to the caretakers as my father.”

  “I don’t understand. Why did you pretend he was your foster father then?”

  “Why do you think? Because of Cesare. Because of the threat he represented. Dad could never tell anyone I was his real son, because he was trying to protect me.”

  “No,” she said again, continuing to shake her head as if that alone would negate everything he’d said. “He didn’t want to protect you. He beat you, Wolf. I know. I saw the bruises on your face.”

  Another lie he’d had to tell. Another manipulation he’d had to pull off.

  “He never hit me, Liv. He never beat me. The bruises were from a boxing tutor I had. Dad thought de Santis would be more likely to help me if he thought Noah was knocking me around.”

  This time Olivia didn’t say a thing, just stared, that gun still pointing directly at his heart.

  “He thought it would also generate sympathy from you,” Wolf went on, unable to stop now that he’d started. “And it did.”

  There was pain in her expressive blue eyes, a deep, abiding hurt that he felt deep inside himself too. It didn’t seem fair that he was always the one hurting her. That he kept delivering blow after blow.

  He hadn’t wanted to tell her any of this, but he’d promised himself there would be no more lies. He would tell her the truth about his mission, about what he intended to do, and he’d keep nothing back.

  It would change things between them, probably irrevocably. Any feelings of friendship or the sense of connection he’d experienced while in her arms would be gone. He knew that.

  But the truth was important, even if it was painful. Even if it hurt him too. And it was certainly a damn sight more important than his impatient dick, which only wanted to get back to bed with her, not spend hours talking.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Her voice was cracked and hoarse. “What do you think is going to happen? That I’m suddenly going to say ‘Sure Wolf, my father was bad, you can kill him, no problem’?”

  “No, I don’t think that.” He held her gaze. “I’m telling you that because I don’t want to lie to you anymore. You deserve the truth.”

  Something trickled down her cheek, a tear. “If the truth is what I deserve, then I must have been a really, really awful person.”

  The sight of that tear and the thread of hurt in her voice made pain twist inside him, an animal tearing at his flesh. Yes, he knew this wasn’t what she wanted to hear. He knew. But all those lies.… He couldn’t keep telling her those either.

  He wanted to reach out to her, take the gun from her hand and pull her into his arms, kiss away her tears. Touch her, stroke her until all the pain was gone and there was nothing but pleasure in those beautiful blue eyes.

  But he couldn’t do that. Not after he’d just told her that he was going to kill her father.

  “You’re not an awful person,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “And you deserve so much more.”

  Her lashes fell, veiling her gaze. Then she lowered the gun, putting it carefully back down on the table.

  “Not going to use that after all?” he murmured.

  “I can’t shoot you and you know it.”

  There was a tense, awful silence.

  Olivia looked up at him, her eyes full of pain. “Please don’t kill him, Wolf. For me. Please.”

  Ah fuck.

  It felt like she’d reached right inside him and grabbed onto his heart, and was now squeezing it very carefully between her hands. “I have to,” he forced out, his jaw gone tight. “It’s my mission. Dad’s death has to be avenged. This stupid fucking feud has to end and it won’t until your father is dead.”

  Olivia shook her head again, slowly. “How do you know he killed Noah? You have no proof. The coroner said he died falling off his horse.”

  “I’ll find proof. It’ll be there.”

  “No, Wolf. No. Killing Dad isn’t the answer. I know you don’t care about him, but if you feel anything at all for me, please … Don’t do it.”

  Those delicate fingers around his heart squeezed tighter, deepening the pain. He’d never thought that when it came down to it, it would be her who’d get in his way. At least not like this.

  He’d never thought that it would be painful. That he’d end up doubting himself. That he’d end up doubting his own father too.

  He reached out for the gun and put his hand over it, drawing it toward him and clicking the safety back on. But he kept his hand on it, a reminder of what he needed to do. A reminder of his father’s promise.

  “My mom is still alive,” he said, staring down at the table, because that was easier than looking into her wounded eyes. “Dad spent years trying to find her, because after this thing with de Santis was all over and done with, he had plans. He was going to acknowledge me as his son, get Mom back, be a family again. But he died before that happened.” He rubbed his thumb over the butt of the gun, the metal warm under his hand. “That letter I got from him, the one that told me I had to kill de Santis, also said that he’d finally found Mom. But he couldn’t go get her until de Santis was dead because it was too dangerous for her otherwise. He said that it was now up to me to bring our family back together again. That once Cesare was dead, I’d receive information about where Mom was and I could go get her.” Wolf lifted his gaze. “I need to find my mom, Liv.
I know there’s not much left of my family now, but I want it. I need to have it.”

  “So you’re going to kill Dad just to find out where your mom is?” She blinked hard. “Did you ever think you could go find her without doing that?”

  He grimaced. “I tried.” Because he had. In the two weeks after receiving that letter, he’d tried his hardest to look for some sign of where his mother might be. How his father had found her, he had no idea, because every lead Wolf had followed had been a dead end. “I don’t know where she is, but she’s hidden so well, I couldn’t fucking find her.”

  Olivia folded her arms around herself, as if she was cold, and he wanted to close the distance between them, wrap his own arms around her, but he stayed where he was. Having him touch her would be the very last thing she’d want, and besides, he was pretty sure that if he did touch her, he wouldn’t want to stop. Then she really would shoot him.

  “We should try to find her.” Olivia’s tone was flat and there was a cast to her jaw he recognized. Determination. “If your father found her, then we can.”

  Wolf shook his head. If it had been that simple, he would have done it already. “No, I can’t get her until the feud is over. Cesare uses people, you know that, Liv. And if he knew that my mother was alive and that she was important to Noah, do you think he’ll leave her alone? Christ, this has to end once and for all.” His father had been very clear. The only way any of this would stop would be if Cesare was dead.

  “The way to end it is not to kill my father.” Anger was burning in her eyes now and part of him was glad, because anger he could deal with. Pain only made him want to howl.

  He didn’t look away, letting her see that this was the path he was set on and there would be no deviation from it. “I’m sorry, baby. But this is the way it’s gotta be. There’s no other option.”

  She stared at him a long moment, saying nothing, her gaze hot as a gas flame. “If I found your mother and proof that Dad didn’t kill Noah, would you change your mind?”

  Wolf shook his head. “He’s been running guns and using the military to do it. Like, I said, that’s treason.”

  “Jail then,” she said without hesitation. “Let the authorities decide what to do with him. Like you were going to do with Daniel.”

  Prison wasn’t what he’d envisaged for Cesare, he had to admit. And it was difficult to change focus, especially when in his head, de Santis’s death had been the only option. But he made himself try the idea on for size, because this was Olivia and he still hated the thought of her hurting her.

  “What about Dad’s death?” he asked.

  “What about it? If my father didn’t kill him then there’s nothing to get revenge for, is there?” She leaned forward, putting her palms flat on the table. “Did it ever occur to you that killing Dad wouldn’t end this feud anyway? A life for a life doesn’t work, Wolf. If my brothers found out you’d done something—”

  “Your brothers won’t find out, because no one will know it was me. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “I will know it was you.”

  Another tense silence fell and he didn’t break it, because suddenly it was there between them, the unspoken threat. That she now knew all his secrets and that if she was free, she could take him down.

  But he would never let her go.

  She went still, as if she’d only just realized that herself. And he could see by the way her muscles tensed, that she was preparing to run.

  He reached out before she could do so, across the table, closing his fingers around her wrists. She tried to make a move then, but it was too late. He had her.

  Holding on tight, he hauled her across the bench and into his arms, not knowing what he wanted to do with her, only that he had to stop her from running. Stop her from getting out and ruining his plans.

  Stop her from leaving him. She wouldn’t escape him, not again.

  But he should have remembered that Olivia, though physically weaker than he was, wasn’t at all a pushover.

  She twisted in his arms, jerking her wrists from his grip. Then she shoved against his chest with all her strength, bringing her knees up at the same time, no doubt to drive them somewhere sensitive.

  Letting her go was not an option, but he didn’t want to physically hurt her either, so he simply wrapped his arms around her and held on as she struggled. As she hit him and kicked and kneed him in the balls. Stars burst behind his eyes, because it fucking hurt, but physical pain was something he’d long since overcome as part of his SEAL training, so he ignored it, holding onto her tighter.

  She didn’t make a sound as she fought to get free, silent as she struggled, the way she’d been when she’d driven her fists into his chest in the yacht’s stateroom earlier.

  He hadn’t thought she’d have had any energy left after that and all that time spent in bed together, but apparently she did.

  She must have known it was pointless to struggle, that he couldn’t and wouldn’t let her go, but she kept on struggling anyway. Then he caught a glimpse of her flushed face and saw the tears streaming down it, and this had to end. He had to stop it. Now.

  So he grabbed a handful of her glossy brown hair, closing his fist around it and pulling her head back against his shoulder. Then he wrapped his other arm right around her body, hauling her into his lap with her back to his chest and holding her there tightly. She fought him, trying to pull away even though with the grip he had in her hair it must have hurt.

  Christ, she was a little warrior. She couldn’t win and yet still she fought.

  “Stop,” he ordered, putting every ounce of command he had into the word. “Just fucking stop, Liv. You’re going to exhaust yourself.”

  Her body was trembling against his and the feel of her bare skin, the scent of strawberries and musk, and even the way she fought making him hard. He wanted to bite her neck, shove his thigh between hers, get her to ride him. Rub his cock against the soft curve of her ass. Jesus, so many things he wanted. But after everything that had gone down just now, that was impossible.

  “So what are you going to do?” she demanded, fury running through the words, even though they were hoarse and broken sounding. “Kill me like you’ll kill Dad? Shoot me in the head? Because I know too much now, don’t I? I know your plans. You can’t ever let me go. You’ll have to keep me forever or—”

  Wolf put his free hand over her mouth. Not hard, only enough to stop the flow of words. The words that burrowed into his chest, hurting far worse than any bullet.

  She felt so fragile against him. So small and defenseless. Yet every word she said was right. This was always going to be his choice at the end. After her father was dead, she would know exactly who’d killed him. And Wolf couldn’t have that. She’d go to the police, she’d tell them everything she knew.

  She’s right. You can’t ever let her go.

  Something deep inside him shifted, heavy with certainty and a kind of satisfaction.

  No, he couldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t. She was his now. She’d chosen him the moment she’d walked out of that restaurant; and in the stateroom just before, she’d chosen him again.

  And he was fucking taking her.

  She’d gone quiet, her breathing fast against his palm. She wasn’t fighting him now and her eyes were closed. There were tears on her cheeks and as he looked down at her flushed face, he saw more tears seep slowly from underneath her lashes.

  He’d hurt her, he knew that. He accepted it. And if he’d been a different kind of man, maybe a better kind of man, he would have let her go. Would have allowed her the chance to go to the authorities or maybe even have changed his mind about killing Cesare.

  But he wasn’t a different kind of man.

  He was the man his father had made him, a weapon. And he was locked onto his target.

  You understand that she’ll never forgive you, don’t you?

  She wouldn’t. But once this was over, he’d certainly spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her.

>   “I’ll never physically harm you, Olivia,” he said, making each word a vow. “Never ever. But you’re right. I’ll never let you go either.” He lifted his hand from her mouth and looked down into her night dark eyes. “You’re mine now, baby. Understand?”

  Her gaze was black with storms and a thousand other emotions he couldn’t identify. Then he felt her hand move, her palm covering the front of his jeans, finding his cock hard and ready beneath the denim. The breath went out of him in a hiss and he almost snarled, because it felt too fucking good.

  “I loved you once, Wolf Tate,” Olivia said, never taking her gaze from his, her thumb running the length of his aching cock, stroking him. “But I don’t think I love you anymore.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  His heat was familiar by now and his strength, well, she already knew all about that. She could feel it in the way he held her, as if there was nothing she could do to make him let her go. And some part of her liked that. Some part of her loved it even. That she could hit him and kick him and cause him pain, struggle against him, and he’d be that mountain. He wouldn’t move.

  He’d hold her till the end of time.

  She didn’t know what had made her touch him. What made her keep her palm on the hard ridge beneath his zipper. What made her squeeze him.

  Maybe it was the way she could feel every muscle in his body tighten as she did so, the hiss of his breath in her ear. The knowledge that right now, with her hand right there, she had some power over him.

  She was desperate for some power over him.

  He wouldn’t hurt her, she believed that implicitly. Wolf Tate might want to kill her father, but he’d never hurt her. Yet he wasn’t going to let her go either and she believed that too. She knew too much now and she’d made her position clear.

  He might not let her go, but she wasn’t going to let him kill her father.

  No matter if what Wolf had told her was true—and clearly he believed it totally—he didn’t get to be the law. He didn’t have the right to take someone’s life simply because he’d been wronged.