The Undercover Billionaire Read online

  Olivia’s deep blue eyes widened, obviously as surprised as he was that he’d backed away. And for a second, he couldn’t seem to look anywhere else but at the cotton of her nightgown, almost as if he was trying to see that hint of pink again. And maybe if he looked lower, he’d see—

  Fuck. What was wrong with him? This was Olivia, the girl he’d befriended. Whom he’d never been attracted to, not even once.

  You’ve been on deployment a long time.

  That was true. Six months and then he’d had to take bereavement leave because of his father’s death. He’d told his brothers he’d cut it short, that he’d gone back to base after all the director bullshit had gone down with Tate Oil. But he hadn’t. He’d actually spent the last week or so holed up in New York, pretending to be de Santis’s loyal soldier-boy, the way his father had insisted all those years ago.

  But there had been no time for women. Not even a night. Christ, six months of celibacy was a long time. It had to be that making him react to her. It wasn’t because he was suddenly attracted to Olivia, no fucking way.

  Pissed with himself and rapidly losing patience with this entire damn situation, Wolf scowled. “Get the fuck out of the car, Liv. And FYI, you don’t want to mess with me, not right now.”

  She blinked, and a moment passed when he thought she wasn’t going to get out and he realized he didn’t know what he would do then. But at last she let out a breath and pushed herself out of the car, smoothing down that stupid nightgown and pushing her long, straight brown hair behind her ears. “Okay,” she said, all calm now. “Let’s go.”

  Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed her arm, reluctant to let her follow him in case she decided to make a break for it. And again that weird shock shot down his spine. But this time he gritted his teeth against it and held on, turning toward the door that led to the service elevator.

  She stiffened as his fingers closed around her, which pissed him off for no good reason.

  She has every right to be pissed off, given the way you’ve been hauling her around.

  Yeah, and he didn’t need his fucking conscience showing itself right now. Not when he had very important shit to do.

  Olivia came with him obediently enough, and luckily the service elevator was already at their floor so they were able to get in the moment he hit the button.

  “Can I ask where we are?” Olivia said as the doors slid shut.

  He went to the pad near the door and quickly typed in the code he’d been given. It would take them to the right floor without stopping. “A hotel. The James.”

  He could have taken her to his other little bolt-hole, but he didn’t want anyone to know about that, which left him having to find somewhere else to take her. He didn’t own property in New York, unlike his brothers, and he’d been debating the merits of simply taking her to some low-rent motel in Brooklyn. The security of places like that was always a worry, though, so it wasn’t ideal. But luckily one of his SEAL buddies—a guy he trusted implicitly—came from a rich family of hotel owners and had offered him a room in his family’s hotel off the books. Of course Jase thought Wolf was bringing in a girl on the sly to have a sneaky couple of days with, he didn’t actually know it was because Wolf had kidnapped the daughter of Cesare de Santis and was now preparing to interrogate her. Jase might have given him a different answer if he’d known that.

  “The James,” Olivia echoed. “Okay.”

  Wolf stepped back from the number pad as the elevator jerked and began to rise, running his gaze over her again. She was standing near the back of the elevator car, her arms crossed, looking very calm. But he didn’t miss the fact that she was shivering slightly.

  Shit. Of course she’d be cold. She wasn’t wearing anything but that damn nightie thing, not even any shoes. He glanced down at her naked feet, frowning. The elevator was pretty much bare metal, which must feel icy against her skin.

  His training had inured him to physical discomfort, so he shrugged out of his jacket without a second’s hesitation and put it around her shoulders. It was huge on her, the hem reaching mid thigh, but at least it would be warm.

  “Thank you,” she said, and given that she didn’t protest, she must have been really fucking cold. “You’re a very thoughtful kidnapper.”

  He leaned back against the wall of the elevator beside her. “And you’re taking all of this very well. Apart from the thing in the car.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “What’s the point in making a fuss? I’m hardly likely to go running off now, am I? Not when I’m only in my nightgown. And besides”—she leaned back against the elevator too, mirroring his stance—“it’s you. I mean, I don’t know why you’re kidnapping me, but you’re hardly likely to be sending my finger back in a matchbox to my father in return for ransom money.”

  It shouldn’t have annoyed him that she was treating all of this so matter-of-factly. Yet for some reason he was annoyed. Christ’s sake. He was a motherfucking Navy SEAL, who’d kidnapped her from her bed in the middle of the goddamn night. Shouldn’t she at least have the decency to be a little terrified of him? Yeah, they were friends, so it wasn’t like he was a complete stranger to her.

  But still. She didn’t really know him. In fact, given all the secrets he was keeping, both from his own family and from her, he might as well be a stranger to her.

  A tight feeling clenched in his chest at the thought. Almost as if he’d regretted all the lies he’d told her. Stupid to feel that, though. His father had warned him of the dangers of letting himself get attached, and so he’d tried very hard not to. It had been difficult, though. Especially when she’d been genuine.

  Dammit. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. He didn’t have time.

  “How do you know I don’t want your finger?” he said instead. “I might have the matchbox all ready to go.”

  Olivia shot him a glance that told him she was in no way frightened by anything he might say to her. “Sure you do.”

  She wasn’t taking this at all seriously, was she? Which was great when it came to making sure she was secure, but not so great when it came to interrogating her on de Santis’s schedule. She’d want to know why he was asking her, and if he told her the truth, there was no way she’d give it up without a fight, friend or not.

  Cesare de Santis might be a criminal, but Olivia loved him. She wouldn’t want to see him die. And that was going to make getting the information he wanted out of her somewhat problematic.

  That thought did nothing for his temper.

  He scowled. “Don’t get comfortable, Liv. You’re here for a reason.”

  “Obviously I’m here for a reason. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here at all, right? And I presume it wasn’t simply because you were in the neighborhood and thought you’d come and say hi.”

  There was amusement in her voice that worked its way under his skin, needling him. She used to tease him in a gentle way all those years ago—to make him smile, she’d said—and he’d found it cute. Mainly because people were afraid of him, intimidated by his size and his manner, and their first reaction was to get out of his way. Not Olivia. That she had the gumption to tease him at all, had been … refreshing.

  He did not find it refreshing now.

  “No,” he said flatly. “It wasn’t because I was in the neighborhood. And you should be a whole more fucking concerned about that than you are right now.”

  One corner of her rosebud mouth turned up in a smile. “Okay I hear you. I’m shaking in my boots.”

  Jesus Christ. Was the woman actually humoring him? Just what the hell did she think was happening here?

  “By the way,” she went on, clearly having no idea how deep the shit she was in went. “I appreciate all the effort you’ve put in to bringing me here, believe me. But if you’d wanted to ask me something, you could have just put it in an email.” That smile of hers seemed like it was begging him to join in on the joke. “No need to kidnap me in the dead of night and stuff.”

  A long moment passe
d where Wolf wondered what the fuck he was supposed to say to that, because anything he did say at this point was going to change things between them quite profoundly. And he was pretty sure that once he started asking her questions about her father, she wasn’t going to find this half as amusing as she apparently did now.

  He stared down at her, unsmiling, letting her know that this was as far from a joke as it was possible to get. “Just what the fuck do you think is happening here, Liv?”

  Her gaze flickered at his tone and she pulled nervously at his jacket. “You wanted to speak to me? I don’t know why you went to all that fuss in order to do it, but I guess you have your reasons.”

  “And you’re not curious about them at all?”

  Her dark, winged brows lowered. “Of course I am. But you told me you were going to explain. So that’s what we’re doing now, yes? We’re at this hotel and then you’re going to explain why I’m here, and then you’re going to drop me back home.”

  If only it was that simple. But if it was that simple, she wouldn’t be here. She’d be still tucked up in bed, blissfully sleeping.

  “Yeah,” he said, because that’s all he could say. “Sure. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  The elevator stopped with a jerk, the doors sliding open.

  Wolf put out a hand to hold her there then stuck his head out to check the hallway. It was clear.

  He jerked his head toward the doors. “Out.”

  There was a crease between her eyebrows, but she didn’t hesitate, stepping out of the elevator and into the hallway.

  The place was a typical five-star hotel, with thick dark carpeting and white walls, all noise swallowed by the dense hush of luxurious furnishings and expensive soundproofing.

  “Follow me,” he ordered, moving down the hall, taking a look at the numbers on the doors. Olivia walked silently beside him as he went right down to the end before finally finding the right room number.

  The door was held open by a small stack of towels, just like Jase had promised him, so all he had to do was walk right in.

  He gestured for Olivia to go in first and it wasn’t until the door had shut behind them with a heavy thump that he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  Okay, phase one of his plan had been completed, thank Christ. She was here. And since he’d lost that tail, he was pretty sure no one had discovered where they’d gone, which meant she was secure. Now it was time for phase two.

  He followed Olivia down the short hallway and out into the room proper, which appeared to be a massive corner suite, with huge windows that looked out over Central Park. The living area was all clean white walls and a thickly carpeted floor in dark charcoal. There was a sectional sofa near the windows with a low glass-topped coffee table nearby stacked high with magazines. The decor and furniture looked expensive and luxurious, the colors in muted silvers and grays and whites, presumably to call attention to the view of the park directly in front of it.

  Then he noticed that there was an ice bucket beside the sofa with champagne chilling in it, and on the coffee table were a couple of champagne flutes, plus a basket of what looked like special food. Candles had been lit—scented, by the smell of vanilla lingering in the air.

  Wolf had never been a romantic kind of guy, so points to Jase for trying to set the mood. Unfortunately romance was not what Wolf was here for.

  “Wow,” Olivia murmured as she went over to the coffee table, glancing down at the gift basket and the champagne in the ice bucket. “I…” She stopped then turned to glance at him. There was something glowing in her deep blue eyes, something …

  Oh shit. Did she think that all of this was for her?

  “It’s not what it looks like,” he said shortly, before she got the wrong idea. “This isn’t a date or anything.”

  An expression crossed her face, though it had gone before he could figure out what it was, and she turned away. “No, of course not. I didn’t think it was.”

  Fucking hell. That’s exactly what she’d thought, wasn’t it? Which meant … Yeah, he didn’t want to think about what it meant, especially not when getting romantic with Olivia de Santis figured exactly nowhere in any of his plans.

  Mentally cursing Jase, Wolf moved over to the minibar. There was a counter with one of those fancy-ass capsule coffee-making machines on top, and if there was one thing he really needed at four—no five—in the morning it was a coffee. Strong and black and sweeter than hell.

  “You need any caffeine?” He pulled out a mug from the shelf above the machine and put it down on the counter.

  “No, thank you.”

  She sounded more subdued than before, so he turned to check that she was okay. She’d sat down on the sectional sofa, perching right on the edge of the seat, her hands clasped around her knees, fingers interlaced. It was still dark outside and the recessed lights of the hotel room were soft, but even so, he could see the shadows beneath her eyes. She was looking tired now.

  Perhaps he should leave interrogating her until after she’d had a couple more hours of sleep.

  “You want to go to bed? Get some more shut-eye?” He nodded toward the bedroom. “We can talk later if you like.”

  She shook her head. “I need to get back home by…” Reflexively she looked down at her wrist as if there was a watch there then pulled a face and glanced around the room. “What’s the time?”

  “It’s five o’clock.” He turned back to finish making his coffee, putting one on for her anyway since she was going to need it. Especially when he told her that she wasn’t going home. That she’d be staying here until he’d iced her dad.

  “Oh, in that case I’ll need to be home probably by seven.” She sighed. “God, do you think anyone saw you carrying me down the front of the building? I’d hate to worry Dad.”

  “No one got a good look.” There had been that tail after he’d put her in the car, but maybe that had been his paranoia talking and he’d imagined it? Whatever, definitely no one had seen them enter the parking garage, that was for sure.

  When the coffee was ready, he dumped some creamer into Olivia’s cup then went into the minibar and got a small bottle of Hennessy. Dividing the brandy between the two cups, he then picked them both up and turned, coming over to where she sat and putting the cups on the coffee table.

  The crease between her brows deepened. “Thanks, but I said I didn’t want one.”

  He reached out and grabbed one of the armchairs, dragging it over to the coffee table and sitting down. “You may not want it, but you’re going to need it.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  Okay, now it was time to get serious.

  Wolf met her gaze. Held it. “Liv, you’re here because I need some information. And I’m afraid I’m not letting you leave until I have it.”

  * * *

  Olivia was conscious that her heartbeat had suddenly picked up speed. Odd, because he hadn’t said anything particularly scary. Apart from the not-letting-her-leave part, but he surely couldn’t be serious about that? He could be quite a funny guy when he wanted to be, and she loved his quiet sense of humor, so maybe it was some kind of elaborate joke?

  Then again, even if he wasn’t kidding, didn’t he know that if he needed help with anything, she’d give it? There was no need for all of this … kidnapping stuff.

  She kept her fingers interlaced around her knees, numb fingertips and toes beginning to warm up. She was very conscious of his jacket around her shoulders, the heavy weight comforting. It smelled of something smoky and dark, a cedarlike scent, along with the scent of leather, and she liked it very much. It smelled like him. Like Wolf.

  He was across from her, his massive body sitting slightly forward, his elbows on his knees, his fingers clasped between them, the expression in his gorgeous eyes curiously intent.

  She gave a little laugh then wished she hadn’t since it sounded nervous in the heavy silence. “You’re not going to let me leave? Okay then. Guess I’d better t
ell you what you want to hear.”

  He didn’t smile. “Drink your coffee. You’re not going to like what I have to say.”

  For the first time since he’d pulled her out of her warm, cozy bed, a small, cold thread of doubt wound through her. She hadn’t had time to be worried about what he was going to do with her, and then when she had, in the car, she’d actually felt calm. Because this was Wolf, her friend. Whom she’d been emailing for ten years, and whom she knew wouldn’t hurt her.

  Wolf, whom she was in love with and had been ever since she was sixteen. All this had to be a joke.

  Except he wasn’t smiling now, and he wasn’t laughing. His roughly handsome face was utterly serious, that long, generous mouth set in a hard line. His jaw, darkened with five-o’clock shadow was tight, and there was a glitter in his eyes that made that thread of doubt tighten.

  And it came to her suddenly that ten years of emailing didn’t mean you actually knew someone.

  Needing caffeine stat, Olivia reached for her coffee. He’d put cream in it, which was annoying, and when she took a sip, she nearly choked.

  “Oh my God, what have you spiked this with?” she demanded, eyes watering.

  “Brandy.” He reached for his own cup and took a sip, sadly without choking.

  “Why?”

  “Like I said. You’re going to need it.”

  Again, there was no smile, pulling that thread of doubt even tighter.

  She took another sip of her coffee and didn’t choke this time, conscious of the fiery burn of the alcohol as it slid down her throat. Conscious also that she was alone in a hotel room with Wolf Tate, and that no one else knew she was there.

  And he’s not going to let you go until you give him the information he wants. Not forgetting that.

  No need to panic though, and she was very good at not panicking. Her father was always telling her how much he valued her cool head, so there was no reason to lose it now.

  “Yes. You keep saying that. I suppose you’d better tell me why.”

  Wolf took another swallow of his coffee, the cup tiny in his huge hand. “You have access to your father’s schedule, right?”