Blackmailed Down The Aisle

“What’s it to be—me, or the police?”

Out-of-work actress Daisy Maddox would do anything for her brother—even sneak into a sleek New York office to return the watch he stole from billionaire Rollo Fleming.

When Rollo catches her red-handed, Daisy is completely at his mercy. But Rollo needs a wife to seal a deal, and events take a wild turn—he demands Daisy become his temporary wife!

Swept into Rollo’s world, Daisy’s caught in an intense tangle of emotions. And with every searing kiss, Daisy’s guard melts, as she discovers there are unexpected, pleasurable advantages to being blackmailed down the aisle...

‘What were we talking about?’ Rollo said softly. ‘Oh, yes. Our chemistry.’

‘It’s just not there,’ Daisy said hastily, trying not to breathe in the clean masculine smell of his body. ‘And, believe me, you can’t just manufacture it for the cameras. It has to be real.’

Rollo let silence build between them. He wondered if she realised that her body was contradicting her words. That her cheeks were flushed and her lips were parted invitingly.

Scrutinising her face, he frowned. His eyes narrowed. ‘I wonder…how would we test it? If this was a real acting job, I mean.’

Her eyes froze mid-blink. ‘I suppose we’d do an audition.’

Taking a step closer, he smiled—a small, dispassionate smile. ‘What a good idea,’ he murmured.

And slowly he lowered his head and kissed her on the lips.

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 pushovers 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

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.

Blackmailed Down the Aisle

Louise Fuller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my parents. For taking me to the library. A lot.

Thank you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE PARTY WAS loud and hot and crowded.

Everywhere people were dancing, laughing, punching the air. Everyone was having fun. Everyone except Daisy Maddox. Leaning against the wall, her blonde hair lit up by the flashing strobe lights, she stood slightly apart, gazing critically across the room.

Nowhere in the world was as vibrant as Manhattan at midnight. And nowhere was more glamorous than Fleming Tower, the lean, gleaming skyscraper of steel and glass owned by her brother David’s boss, Rollo Fleming, billionaire property tycoon and the party’s host.

Daisy sighed softly. It was a great party.

As long as you were a guest!

Stifling a yawn, she glanced down at her uniform. If, like her, you were handing out glasses of champagne, then it was just another shift at work. And being a waitress sucked—no matter how cool the venue. Or how attractive the guests.

She glanced over at the young man who had been hovering at her elbow all evening.

Skinny, dark and charming, he was exactly her type. Ordinarily she might have flirted a little, but tonight she was struggling even to remember he was there.

‘Come on!’ He smiled at her hopefully. ‘One little glass won’t hurt.’

Behind his back, Joanne, another of the waitresses, rolled her eyes.

Daisy breathed out slowly. Six months ago she’d arrived at David’s apartment, hoping to make it big on Broadway. Only just like the rest of her life nothing had gone to plan, and her dreams had got lost in a depressing loop of auditions and rejections. But all those years at drama school hadn’t been entirely wasted, she thought wearily as, setting her expression to one of disappointment, she gave him a small, regretful smile.

‘It’s sweet of you, Tim. But I can’t. Like I told you earlier. I don’t drink when I’m working.’ She glanced pointedly down at her uniform, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

‘It’s not Tim—it’s Tom. Come on. It’s just one glass. I promise I won’t tell.’ He grinned encouragingly. ‘It’s not like the big boss man is here to catch you.’

Rollo Fleming. The ‘big boss man.’ Picturing his cool, handsome face—the one that gazed so disdainfully out from the Fleming Organisation’s website—Daisy felt her heart thump nervously. It was true. Despite the fact that the party was in his building, for his staff, Rollo had declined to attend.

Of course, there had been the usual rumours he would turn up unannounced. Someone even claimed to have seen him in the foyer. But Daisy knew for sure that he wasn’t coming. Rollo Fleming was in Washington on business, and by the time he returned the party would be wrapped up. Finished. Over.

And not just the party, she thought, glancing furtively at the clock on the wall.

‘So do you work for him?’

Startled, she turned and saw that Joanne was looking curiously at Tom.

He nodded. ‘Yeah, for about a year now.’

‘Really?’ Joanne’s eyes widened. ‘He is seriously hot. What’s he like?’

Her question was directed at Tom, but Daisy had to bite her tongue to stop herself from replying. Hours scouring the internet had turned her into the world’s leading authority on Rollo Fleming. Not that there was much to know. He rarely gave interviews and, aside from being photographed with a string of breathtakingly beautiful models and socialites, his private life was largely undocumented.

Tom shrugged, and a mixture of awe and admiration crossed his face. ‘I don’t have that much to do with him personally. But when it comes to business he’s definitely got the Midas touch. And he gets all the hottest babes.’

He frowned.

‘He’s kinda scary too though. I mean, he works insanely hard and he’s a total control freak. He knows everything that’s going on—and I mean every tiny detail. And he’s obsessed with honesty...’ He paused, frowning. ‘I was in a meeting with him once and there was a problem. Someone tried to cover it up and he was... Let’s just say you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.’

Daisy felt her stomach twist.

Tom’s words confirmed everything David had already told her. Rollo Fleming was a ruthless workaholic and a commitment-phobic philanderer. Basically a supercharged version of Nick, her ex, and exactly the kind of man she loathed.

Looking up, her heart gave a jolt—not at the memory of her latest failed relationship but at the time showing on the clock. Her shift was nearly over. On any other evening she would have been relieved, but tonight was different. Tonight was the first and hopefully the last time she would have to choose between breaking a promise and breaking the law.

‘Are you okay?’ Joanne nudged her arm. ‘You look like you’re going to be sick.’

Daisy swallowed. She felt as if she was too. Just thinking about what she was about to do was making the contents of her stomach curdle.

She smiled weakly. ‘I know it’s the city that never sleeps, but sometimes I wish New York would have an early night!’

‘Look...’ Glancing around, Joanne lowered her voice. ‘Why don’t you go home? I can finish up here.’

Daisy shook her head. ‘I’m just tired. And I don’t want to leave you in the lurch—’

‘You’re not!’ Joanne frowned. ‘So stop pretending you feel okay.’

Daisy hesitated. She hated lying to Joanne, particularly when her friend was being so kind. But she could hardly tell her the truth. She was only just coming to terms with it herself.

Stomach tightening, she thought back to the moment four days ago when she’d arrived back at David’s apartment to find him in tears. After much coaxing he’d finally confessed that he had a gambling problem. Only it was way more than a problem. It turned out he’d been gambling and losing money for months, and his debt had spiralled out of control.

Daisy shivered. Her parents had drummed into them the importance of living within their means. But David’s debt was the least of his problems. Dropping off some papers in Rollo Fleming’s office earlier that day, he had noticed a watch on the floor. Only it hadn’t been just any watch. It had been an exclusive designer watch. And he hadn’t just noticed it. He’d picked it up and pocketed it, imagining that he’d be able to sell it and thus clear his debt.

Back home, he’d realised what he’d done and broken down completely. Which was why Daisy had ended up promising to return it for him.

The thought jogged her back into real time. Looking up, she grimaced. ‘I do feel a bit odd. Maybe I will go now. Thanks, Jo. You’re a star.’

Joanne nodded. ‘Yes, I am. But don’t be too grateful. I need you to cover for me on Tuesday.’ Her face softened. ‘Cam’s taking me out to dinner. It’s our six-month anniversary.’

That was what she wanted to be doing, Daisy thought dully as she negotiated a path between the drunken partygoers into the deserted hallway. Going on an anniversary date with a boyfriend.

But, of course, that would require a boyfriend.

And five weeks ago Nick had decided that he needed some space.

Space!

Glumly, she stopped in front of the lifts.

Romeo never told Juliet he needed ‘space.’

Antony hadn’t said, ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ to Cleopatra.

She stared at her reflection in the gleaming steel doors.

All men were unreliable and selfish or, more likely, she was just an extremely poor judge of character. Either way, she’d had enough. For the foreseeable future she was going to enjoy being single.

Reaching into the large pocket at the front of her apron, she pulled out a laminated card and stared down at her brother’s face. Thank goodness for David. He was always there for her—helping her rehearse for auditions, even finding her this waitressing job.

Swiping the card, she felt her breath twitch in her throat as the light turned green and the doors slid open smoothly.

She owed David big time.

And now she had a chance to pay him back.

Her fingers trembled. But could she do it. Could she actually go through with it?

She hesitated. But only for a moment.

David was waiting downstairs for her in the lobby and the thought of his face, his relief as she walked towards him, propelled her forward.

Inside the lift, panicky thoughts fluttered inside her head, darting back and forth like startled birds, but then the doors were opening and, heart pounding, she stepped into a dimly lit corridor.

David had told her which office belonged to Rollo and, her heels clicking lightly on the polished wood floor, she walked across the reception area and came to a standstill in front of a plain wooden door. For a moment she stared at it in silence. There was no nameplate—nothing to differentiate it from any of the other doors—and for a moment she wondered why. It seemed a strangely modest touch from a man worth billions who made no secret of the fact that he considered himself not just a businessman but an empire builder.

But then, did a man like Rollo Fleming really need any introduction? Particularly in the gleaming glass tower that bore his name.

It felt like she was about to enter the lion’s den. But, lifting her chin, she braced her shoulders. The lion wasn’t at home. And by the time he returned, she would be long gone.

Breathing in sharply, she swiped the card and pushed open the door.

Everything was silent and dark. But through the window all the familiar landmarks were lit up against the night sky, and she gazed at it in wonder. Rollo Fleming must have the best view in New York. But every moment spent in his office increased her risk of being caught and, galvanised by that thought, she stepped forward unthinkingly.

‘Ouch!’

Her knee collided sharply with something hard in the darkness, but her pain was quickly forgotten as she felt whatever it was she’d walked into start to move. Heart pounding, she reached out, groping blindly, trying to stop whatever it was from falling. But it was too late, and the next moment there was a thump that echoed round the empty office like cannon fire.

‘Good one, Daisy!’ she muttered into the taut, strained silence that followed. ‘Why don’t you just set off some fireworks while you’re at it?’

Gritting her teeth, she reached down and gingerly rubbed her knee—and then suddenly froze as from the other side of the door she heard the clear and unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching.

They slowed and stopped, and her heart began to beat with such force that she thought it would burst through her ribcage, and then she scrunched up her eyes as the door swung open and light flooded the room.

For the longest moment she waited—hoping, praying like a child that if she couldn’t see whoever it was, they wouldn’t be able to see her. But her hope was swiftly extinguished as a voice—cool, curt and very, very male—interrupted the tense silence.

‘I’ve had a long and disappointing day, so I hope, for your sake, that you have a good explanation for this intrusion—’

Opening her eyes, Daisy blinked. The words had sent a ripple of dread down her spine, but that was nothing compared to the dismay she felt as she gazed up at the face of the man standing in front of the open door.

Rollo Fleming was supposed be in Washington.

On business.

But, unless she was hallucinating, neither of those facts were true.

The shock should have felled her and it would have done so, had she not been so distracted by the reality of his beauty.

On a screen, or in a magazine, Rollo Fleming was movie star handsome. In the flesh, however, his good looks were multiplied by ten, compounded by an intense mix of masculinity and power that made heat break out over her skin.

Not that he was her type, she thought hurriedly. He was too blonde, too poised, too calculating. It must just be the shock that was making her want to look at him. And keep on looking.

Golden-skinned, with a sharp clean-lined jaw and close-cropped blonde hair, he looked more like a Roman gladiator than a billionaire property tycoon. Only the very dark and obviously very expensive single-breasted suit gave any hint that he was worth more than the GDP of some small countries.

He looked at her directly then, and she felt his gaze like cool water hitting the back of her throat. His eyes were extraordinary—clear, glittering green, like shards of broken glass. But it was the beautiful full-lipped curve of his mouth that tugged the most at her senses. It was a mouth she could imagine softening into the sexiest smile—

Her heart jerked.

Only it wasn’t smiling now. Instead it was set in a straight, forbidding line that perfectly matched the rigid hostility of his body blocking the doorway. Nervously she glanced around the office, looking for another means of escape. But despite it being the size of a small barn, there were no other exits. Just a lot of cool designer-looking furniture.

She was trapped.

Her pulse shivered. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. She hadn’t come here for confrontation or explanation. But now there was no choice but to improvise.

‘I—I can explain,’ she stammered.

‘Then I suggest you begin.’

He stood like an actor on stage, his spotlit face impassive, but there was a dangerous undertone in his voice that made her heartbeat accelerate unevenly.

‘Just keep it short and simple. Like I said, I’ve had a long day... Daisy.’

He spoke her name softly, almost like an endearment, so that it was a moment before her brain registered the fact that he knew who she was. As she glanced up, eyes widening in shock, he shook his head dismissively, his gaze dropping to the laminated badge pinned to her blouse.

‘So it is your name. I thought you’d stolen that from some poor hapless waitress downstairs.’

There was no mistaking the flicker of scorn in his eyes, and her hand rose protectively to cover the badge even as his accusation stung her out of her fear and shock.

‘I didn’t. My name really is Daisy and, for your information, I am one of those poor hapless waitresses. That’s why I’m here.’

Her eyes locked with his. Pushing her hands into the pocket of her apron, her fingers brushed against David’s security card, and she felt a sudden fierce urgency to protect her brother.

‘I was working at the party downstairs and I was going to get some more napkins from the kitchens,’ she lied. ‘But I pressed the wrong button in the lift.’

For a moment Rollo stared at her coldly, then without turning he pushed the door shut.

In less than three seconds he had crossed the room, and as he stopped in front of her, her body tensed with panic.

‘I told you to keep it short and simple. Clearly what I should have said was tell the truth.’ His eyes hardened. ‘Please don’t insult me by trying to pretend you “pressed the wrong button...”’

Daisy felt the walls of the huge office shrink inwards. In his dark suit, his broad shoulders blocking the light, Rollo Fleming dominated the space around them. But she couldn’t allow him to dominate her. If she did, then the truth would come out and David’s life would be ruined.

She tried to let out her breath without his noticing.

‘You’re not the only one who’s had a long day,’ she retorted. ‘I’ve been on my feet for hours and I’m tired too. Which is why I made a mistake.’

He shook his head.

‘I don’t class breaking and entering as a “mistake.” And I’ll think you’ll find most juries agree with me.’ His face was hard, anger harshening the fine features. ‘So stop prevaricating and tell me why you’re sneaking about in my office at quarter to one in the morning.’

‘I didn’t know it was your office.’ She forced herself to meet his face. ‘How could I? I don’t even know who you are.’

His expression shifted into one of pure disbelief.

‘You’re working downstairs and you don’t know who I am?’

Daisy glowered at him. His derisive tone, coupled with his arrogant and irritatingly correct assumption that she would know who he was, made her see red.

‘I work for lots of people,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I don’t remember all their names and faces.’

Watching his mouth tighten, she felt a stab of satisfaction at having punctured his pride.

There was a long, abrasive silence and then he shrugged. ‘Which is no doubt why you’re just a waitress.’

Her cheeks flooded with heat, his sneer stinging like a slap.

Just a waitress!

‘Don’t patronise me—’ she began furiously.

‘Then don’t lie to me,’ he said softly.

She glared past him, face flushed. ‘Fine. So I know who you are! So what? It makes no difference to me—’

‘Then you are either exceptionally foolish or dangerously foolhardy, because this is my building, and my office. And you shouldn’t be in it.’

His voice scraped against her skin, sending flickers of fear in every direction.

* * *

Watching her face turn pale, Rollo felt his stomach twist.

Beneath her bravado she was scared—maybe she wasn’t the hardened criminal he’d taken her to be.

But she was still guilty.

Guilty of knowing the power of her beauty and guilty of exploiting it to deceive and disarm. He stared at her critically, noting the slight tilt of her chin, the wash of colour on the flawless cheekbones. He’d known women like her before. One in particular, who had thought nothing of lying and manipulating those around her, causing havoc and devastation even as she played the victim.

Daisy had made the biggest mistake of her life if she thought her charms would work on him and, eyes narrowing, he let the silence lengthen until finally, with a mixture of defiance and almost exaggerated casualness, she said, ‘I was curious. I just wanted to have a look around.’

‘I see.’ He loaded his words with sarcasm. ‘And yet you didn’t put on the lights? You must have truly extraordinary night vision.’

Daisy bit her tongue. Already she hated that sneer, the way his eyebrows lifted, and the glitter in that mocking green gaze. Of course, she’d imagined what would happen if she got caught. But in her head she had pictured some bumbling security guard. She certainly hadn’t expected to be grilled by Rollo Fleming himself. The watch’s owner and a man who was demanding an honesty she couldn’t give.

‘I didn’t put the lights on because I thought somebody would see,’ she said quickly.

He was standing too close; the heat and scent of his body was messing with her head so that speaking in sentences was suddenly a struggle.

‘I know this floor is off limits, but I’ve worked here a couple of times and I wanted to see...’

She paused. What could she have possibly—believably—wanted to see in an unlit office?

Blood pounding in her ears, she stared desperately past him at the lit-up skyscrapers—and then her gaze locked on to the Empire State Building.

‘The city. At night,’ she said, her breath juddering in relief. ‘Everyone says the view from up here is amazing, so I thought I’d come and look.’

He stared at her for so long and so hard that she had to clench the muscles in her legs to stop them from giving way.

‘How?’

She blinked. ‘What?’

‘Not what. How? How did you get up to this level? Catering staff only have clearance for the floor they’re working on.’

Daisy swallowed. Keep it simple, she told herself. ‘I don’t know,’ she lied again. ‘I just pressed some buttons.’

Her head was starting to ache, and there was no way she could keep this up for much longer. It was time for a dignified retreat. David would understand, and together they could think of another less humiliating way to return Rollo Fleming’s watch to him.

She breathed out, fighting for calm. ‘Look, Mr Fleming, I’m really sorry I came up here, okay? It was a bad idea—a mistake—and I promise I will never do anything like it again. So if you could just forget I was ever here, I’d be really grateful.’

There was a taut silence as his gaze held hers.

‘Daisy. Pretty name...’ he said quietly.

She could sense he was battling to control his temper.

‘Old-fashioned. Sweet. Decent.’

He smiled—a chilling smile that sent a shiver down her backbone.

‘It’s a pity you don’t live up to it.’

She felt her body still. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said carefully.

He shook his head. ‘Then let me explain. I’ve had a long day...’

Pausing, he felt his shoulders stiffen. Not just long. It had been a day of frustration and failure. The deal was generous—he’d offered way more than the market value of the building—and yet once again James Dunmore had rejected it out of hand. And he still didn’t really understand why.