Shane and Sebastian entered the De Loren hacienda with its gracefully arched doorways and centuries-old elegance before dawn that morning. For decades De Lorens had resided within its walls, their wealth and carefully invested fortunes overseen with an eye to each future generation and the changes of the world’s financial landscape.
They had weathered wars, upheavals, rebellions, and personal losses that would have destroyed other families. The De Loren patriarchs had always believed in preparation, though. In both personal and private defenses as well as political strengths.
The summons the cousins had received before dawn had brought them from Alyssa’s bed for the early-morning meeting as suspicion tightened inside them with each mile covered. They knew, the closer they came, that somehow Alyssa lay at the center of this meeting.
Moving through the large, expansive rooms to the back of the hacienda, Sebastian knocked at the heavy wood door of his grandfather’s office firmly, his shoulders tight with tension.
“Enter,” the old man’s voice called out, as arrogant as ever, but now with a hint of anger as well.
As he glanced at his cousin Sebastian’s lips tightened at the certainty that this meeting would bring nothing good. Shane’s knowledge was reflected in the deep blue of his eyes, in the implacable expression he too carried.
Opening the door, Sebastian stepped inside, almost pausing at the sight of his father, Alberto, his brother, Lucien, and Shane’s brother, Murphy.
“Gang’s all here,” Shane muttered behind him, his voice low enough that only Sebastian heard him.
“Hmm.” Sebastian could only imagine what awaited them.
“Sit.” Fernando waved his hand to the two red leather chairs in front of the desk that sat prominently in front of the high, wide windows overlooking the rich green pastures that spread out from the hacienda.
Fernando De Loren was in his eighties, not that he was willing to give in to age. His black hair was silver now, his dark brown gaze eagle sharp, and his mind just as calculating as it had ever been. That mind often gave Sebastian and his cousin pause.
“It’s early, Grandfather,” Sebastian stated as he and Shane took their seats. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Early?” Fernando’s silver brows nearly lifted to his hairline. “No more than a few months before you were still partying at the time you were texted. Or making your rounds about the globe in your quest for your next adventure. Now it’s early?”
The mocking surprise Sebastian decided to let slide.
“Nevertheless, now it’s early,” he stated. “What couldn’t wait until we arrived tomorrow to help Lucien with the new colts?”
Lucien’s horse-breeding enterprise was a highly profitable venture for the De Loren family.
“This is what could not wait.” The large manila envelopes were tossed to them, his grandfather’s anger glittering momentarily in his brown eyes. “Be certain to read the letter included, if you don’t mind.”
Opening the envelope and pulling the contents free, Sebastian felt everything inside him explode in rage. A rage he kept carefully contained, silent, as he stared at the eight-by-ten photos.
They were taken from inside the apartment Landra had given Alyssa for the summer. Explicit, damning photos of the three of them. In each, Alyssa featured prominently between the cousins. Naked, her expression tight with sensuality and such love for them that even now he felt humbled by it. Humbled and filled with a murderous rage that anyone would invade their privacy in such a vile way.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lifting his gaze to his grandfather, he could feel the violent fury gathering in him.
“Read the letter, Sebastian,” his father demanded, his compassion in no doubt. “It explains everything.”
Pulling the single sheet of paper from below the photos, he read it. He had to reread it to be certain he’d read correctly.
It would be a shame if these pictures of the eighteen-year-old senator’s daughter were sent to various porn sites that would undoubtedly pay a generous sum for them. It is understood that the De Loren political interests would be adversely affected once the men with her are identified.
All association with the girl will cease immediately. She will return to the United States, in no doubt that the grandsons of Fernando De Loren have been doing no more than enjoying a summer romance. Should they, at any time, be found or suspected to be involved or attempting to become involved with Alyssa Hampstead again, then the pictures enclosed will be sent to the above-mentioned sites.
A payment will be made, monthly, to the overseas account listed on the back, in the amount stated. Should a payment be late, the pictures will be sent to those sites.
At no time will either Shane Connor or Sebastian De Loren be seen in her company. Should it be learned the authorities were contacted or any investigation into the demand be made, then the pictures will be sent.
Decide for yourself if allowing such to happen is in your political best interests.
Sebastian could feel the world crashing around him, destroying him. The implications of the letter as well as the pictures couldn’t be ignored, nor could the danger to Alyssa.
It would destroy her, her family, and everything she knew. The cyberworld and journalists far and wide would spread the news of her humiliation with such a public announcement of it there would be no doubt she’d be destroyed.
With her shy innocence it would break her before she ever had a chance to realize what was happening around her. It would break all of them. What it would do to all three families would be catastrophic.
“The family will ensure the payments are made as demanded until the blackmailer is identified,” Sebastian’s father, Alberto, stated as Shane tried to assimilate the hell he could feel his life becoming. “Landra has volunteered to make the first payments, with your parents, Shane, making the second, I and Sebastian’s mother, then your other aunts, to Fernando, while we quietly attempt to learn who this is.”
“The demands will be followed precisely,” Shane’s grandfather stated with no room for argument. “The sum we will pay to protect this woman who is nothing to us. No blood to us—”
“She’s something to us,” Shane stated, fighting to hold back his fury. “She’s everything to us.”
“Then you forgot, Grandson, how easily such a weakness can be used against you.” Fernando slapped the table furiously. “You share your women, and I have warned you repeatedly of the impact of such a thing. I have warned you how easy it will be for others to use this against you or the lover your hearts grew fond of. And you refused to heed my warnings, did you not? Now, this threatens not just her father’s political aspirations, but the political connections of this family as well. Do the two of you forget our financial stability is directly tied to our ability to export the products we ship to the U.S.? Exports that took us decades to implement? Do you think we will hold on to the favor we’ve acquired with U.S. politicians in recent years should her father’s rise to the White House be destroyed?”
“We’ll return immediately and explain—”
“You will not.” Outrage filled Fernando’s voice. “Read the letter again, Grandson. Does it say you will return and explain anything? It says from the hour the sun has risen the demand is in effect. Why do you think you were called here at such an early hour?”
Shane could feel the rage building, burning, and could find no outlet to release it.
“I had two of my own people waiting when you left,” Lucien said then, “women with the training and experience to enter the apartment and gather all your belongings, as well as pictures or items that could be used to prove your association with her, once she slept. A letter will be left informing her the summer is over and she’s to return to her home. Once we’ve neutralized this threat and we have the negatives and copies in hand, then you can decide if you will attempt to explain this to her.”
“I can’t do that.” Shane lifted his head before Sebastian could protest. “I won’t do that to her. We can get to her without anyone seeing—”
“There are cameras in the bloody apartment, Shane, or didn’t you catch on to that fact?” his brother, Murphy, snapped with furious outrage. “For God’s sake, you can’t go anywhere near her. Her plane leaves tomorrow. You will stay the hell away from her. If you care for her as you claim, then you will not risk what the release of those pictures would do to her.”
“This will destroy her.” Sebastian came from his seat, denial racing through him, erupting with such force that he felt it exploding through him. “You don’t know what this will do to her!”
“And what will those pictures do to her if they’re released?” Lucien argued. “Think of that, Sebastian. What will happen then? Your belongings have already been collected. Everything. The letter has been left on the chest in the bedroom. Let her go for now. It’s the kindest thing you can do.”
“And what do you know of kindness, Sebastian?” he sneered back at the other man. “You care for nothing and no one outside those fucking horses and the wealth you and Fernando watch with such painstaking care. Do not lecture me on kindness.”
Lucien stared back at him for long moments in silence, his arms crossed over his chest, the black shirt he wore straining over his biceps as he obviously fought to restrain his own anger.
“Sebastian, you are my brother, and I do this for love of you, not that woman who is the center of this strife. I could cast her to this person who is so determined to drain this family because of your love for her. Because of you and Shane, because you are important to us, we will attempt to stop this threat. But we can do nothing without your cooperation.”
Without their cooperation. Without their willingness to stay away from her. Without their ability to stand back as they felt her pain ripping their souls apart.
“She’s eighteen years old. She has no idea the depth of the men dedicating themselves to her…,” Murphy began.
“You are fucking ignorant when it comes to that woman,” Shane informed him, the disgust and fury in his tone unmistakable. “You have no idea, Murphy, what this will do to her.” He stared back at his brother, agony racing through him. “You have no idea the pain doing this will bring her. Or how deeply we’ll feel it.”
“De Loren males do not love; they become soul bound,” Fernando said softly, heavily.
Swinging to him, Shane saw the knowledge and the incredible regret on his grandfather’s face.
Regret? Shane’s soul was fucking ripping in half and all they could do was regret it. God help him. This would destroy her. It would destroy them.
“If all my wealth would change this decision you must make, then I would give it gladly,” Fernando swore, and the truth of that statement was in his eyes. “I cannot fix this. For three days we have fought to find a way and there is none. Give me a solution, Shane,” he said kindly. “And I will do whatever it takes.”
“Shoot us now,” Sebastian whispered. “Kill us quickly, Grandfather, for that will be far preferable to the long, slow death that awaits us now.”
“Sebastian, wait,” his father protested as he threw the chair back with such force it fell to the floor.
Stalking to the open bar at one side of the library, he grabbed one of the bottles of liquor—he didn’t care what it was—then grabbed another for his cousin. Sober, there was no way they could deal with the hell they knew was about to descend upon them. No other way to numb themselves to the overwhelming pain and loneliness facing them.
All their plans were exploding around them, destroying everything they had been, every dream they hadn’t realized they’d had until Alyssa. It was stealing their souls and they had no way of fighting it.
For the first time in their lives, they were truly and completely helpless.
* * *
Alyssa awoke the second time that morning, some sense of rage racing through her with swift, certain agony. It was there, then gone, leaving only the certainty that something was wrong.
Reaching for her cell phone next to the bed, she quickly hit the contact list for Shane’s or Sebastian’s number, to call and make certain they were all right. Their contact listing wasn’t there. Moving to the message icon, she pulled it up. She would just text them. But they were gone from there as well along with all the loving, sometimes silly little messages they had sent her.
It was all gone.
Jumping from the bed, she all but ran to the bathroom where she’d left the test she’d taken that morning, certain one of them would find it when they returned. There, on the counter where she’d left it, was a folded piece of paper instead, the strong scrawl of her name on it identifiable. Only Shane or Sebastian used such a defined way of writing.
She moved to it carefully, her hands shaking, her chest tightening with each breath as she picked it up and opened the letter.
The summer’s over. Hope you have a nice flight home.
Have a nice flight home?
She wasn’t aware of the cry that slipped past her lips, so filled with agony, with the explosion of pain that stole her breath, her strength.
Hope you have a nice flight home?
“No.…” She read the words again, half-formed sobs on every breath now. “Shane? Sebastian? Don’t do this to me.… No. Don’t do this to me.…”
It was overwhelming. Stealing her breath and her senses as well as her strength as she sank to the marble floor, sobs tearing from her as she fought the reality of it.
“I’ll wake up,” she sobbed, clutching the letter to her chest. “I’ll wake up. Oh God, please let me wake up.”
She was dying inside. Alyssa could feel it, Like a slow wave of destruction. She was dying inside and there was nothing she could do to stop it. It raced through her heart, ripping it apart piece by piece before striking at her very soul.
“Don’t do this to me,” she sobbed, leaning her head against the tile wall as the force of the destruction left nothing but ragged, gaping wounds through her senses. “Don’t do this to us.” Her hand pressed to her stomach, to the child the test had revealed existed inside her. “Please. Please. Don’t do this to us.…”
The summer was over, the note had stated.
The summer wasn’t the only thing dying.
* * *
Lucien’s men were waiting for them. As the explosion of agony reverberated inside them the bottles of liquor, only half-empty, were tossed aside as Shane and Sebastian raced from the sitting room they’d retreated to.
Lucien and Murphy stood silently as the dozen men blocked the door, catching their brothers when they would have run to the woman Fernando informed them would reach out to them.
Soul bound, their grandfather called it.
When the other half of their souls called out to them, they would have no choice but to run to her, to ease her pain, to destroy all three of them when the terms of the blackmail weren’t heeded.
Rage erupted from the two younger men. Such black, violent fury that to hold them back Lucien’s men were finally forced to knock them out. Twelve men, and the fury that met them would have overwhelmed them if the younger men had remained conscious.
“They would kill us to get to her.” The manager of the estate turned to Lucien to excuse the choice he’d made and ordered his men to carry through. “You knew there would be no other way to stop them.”
Lucien merely nodded and watched as his brother and cousin were lifted gently by several of the men and taken back to the room. Shane was placed on the couch in the sitting room, Sebastian placed in the bed.
Behind him, Lucien could hear his mother sobbing, her heart breaking at the choice they were forced to make to protect not just the girl but Shane and Sebastian as well.
“They will never forgive us!” his mother cried as his father held her from going to her son. “Never, Alberto. He will never forgive what we have done to him. Never.”
Their mother knew her sons well, Lucien thought heavily. He had no doubt if Shane and Sebastian completely lost that woman then there would be no forgiveness for any of them.
“I managed to purchase a ticket on her flight,” Murphy informed him, his voice edged with grief. “Shane will return home as well, I’m certain. They will not be able to remain in each other’s company and stay away from her as well.”
Lucien nodded silently before rubbing at the back of his neck.
Fernando had warned them; he just hadn’t believed the old man. Yet his grandfather had known that the moment Alyssa Hampstead realized her lovers weren’t returning her pain would call them back to her.
“Landra has Jed working to trace the overseas account number,” Murphy continued. “Hopefully, we will resolve this soon.”
Lucien knew better. His contacts from the CIA had been working on the cameras for over twenty-four hours. They’d managed to get into the remote configurations but still hadn’t managed to trace where the digital content was going. Whoever was behind the blackmail knew their electronics. No doubt, the safeguards on the overseas account would be just as difficult to trace once the funds began moving.
The problem was, the funds hadn’t yet begun moving. Until they had, they didn’t have a hope in hell.
“I’ll send Shane home on the De Loren plane,” he promised. “Have you heard from your contact in D.C.?”
“Everything in the Hampstead residence is quiet.” Murphy shrugged. “To my knowledge, they know nothing of the pictures. If they did, every agency the federal government possesses would be called in.”
Lucien sighed heavily. At least the blackmailer had kept his word and not sent the pictures to Alyssa’s parents. Perhaps she would escape this with only the pain of losing the men she loved. They did for their brothers, Shane reminded himself. He only prayed it didn’t break all of them finally and emotionally before it ended.
If they were lucky, if there was any mercy for Shane and Sebastian, then this threat would soon be over.
Hampstead Residence
Alexandria, Virginia
United States
The envelope, when it arrived, had seemed so unassuming. Margot opened it at her husband’s desk while he went over e-mail. After she pulled the pages inside free, it took long moments before she could actually believe what she was looking at. That the lurid, pornographic images actually included her daughter.
Her child.
Had it been pictures of merely one lover, perhaps Margot’s heart wouldn’t have stopped beating for a moment. Maybe the all-consuming rage that filled her could have been held back.
“Margot?” Davis asked, concerned, moments later.
How had he known the shock racing through her? The pain and fear that sliced through a lifetime of icy control.
She stared at the pictures, shock, outrage, fury racing through her at the sight of her daughter, her child. Alyssa was no more than a child, only eighteen and so very sheltered. Who would do this to her?
Two men. Two men with her child? Taking her as though she were some whore to be used without concern or care?
She was shaking. She could feel her hands shaking, her fingers curling in fury as Davis took one of the pictures.
“Oh my God!” He threw the only one he had taken. Threw it from him as though the paper itself were evil. “What the fuck is this?”
Margot stared at the letter accompanying it, handed it to him, then stared down at the second picture. Not at what those vile creatures were doing to her child, but at her child’s expression. And if Margot were the sort to weep, she would have wept for Alyssa.
Love.
Love transformed Alyssa’s features, softened them further, and emphasized the innocence and pleasure that filled her face and eyes.
She couldn’t look at the others.
The pictures were no more than proof; the letter said it all.
Having been informed of this degrading affair by the two young men involved, it is my greatest regret to include these pictures as proof of your daughter’s attempts to coerce my grandsons into a relationship they find both distasteful and humiliating. It is their wish that Miss Hampstead have no further contact with them. She is not to call them, seek them out, or approach them if circumstances should find them in the same place at the same time. Should she do so, the enclosed pictures will be released to all media in America and Europe and Internet sites pertaining to such matters. I would hope you would ask your daughter, in light of these intentions, to ensure she does not cling to the hope they wish to have any further contact with her. Such perversions and degrading carnal activities they have found abhorrent, and though they would be greatly distressed to see their own identities revealed along with hers, they are still determined that all pictures will be released should she not follow their wishes. You may contact me at the below number as their chosen emissary in this matter.
“I knew not to allow this trip,” Margot whispered, taking the blame herself because she had known better. She remembered clearly the many times she’d attempted to convince Alyssa to vacation in the states for her first trip alone.
But Summer was in Madrid and the Bennett girl was in the apartment building with Alyssa. Each time Margot had talked to Giana’s parents they had mentioned how Alyssa and Gia were having such a wonderful time together.
Each time Margot had spoken to Alyssa, though, she’d sensed something more than what her daughter was telling her. She’d be regaled with tales of all the tourist sites, how crowded the beaches were, how wonderful Landra Collier’s apartment was. Friends she’d made, the beauty of the city. Everything but a potential summer lover, let alone two lovers.
Two lovers. Not young men, either. These were men, nearly mature, clearly ages more experienced than her child.
“My God!” Davis repeated, reading the letter again before looking up at Margot. “Alyssa would never initiate such a relationship.”
No, Alyssa would not. Margot might not know the two men involved, but she would before much longer.
“She’s due home in several hours.” Rage was vibrating through her. “I’ll know what happened and I’ll know who they are before the morning’s over.”
To even suggest that Alyssa would initiate such a thing was preposterous. She doubted her daughter knew what a ménage was, let alone how to begin such an affair. But she would make damned certain her daughter understood that there would never be any contact with them again. Even better, once Margo learned their identities she’d make certain they felt her wrath.
* * *
The flight from Spain was uneventful. She hadn’t slept on the flight. Each time she closed her eyes she’d seen Shane and Sebastian the day they’d given her the necklace with the sapphire hanging between two beautiful diamonds. She hadn’t taken it off since they’d given it to her and made the promise that they were bound to her.
They had broken that bond. Everything had been taken. All their possessions, their numbers from her phone and the text messages, and somehow, they’d taken the chain with its three gems from around her neck. In stealing the necklace, in stealing every memory she had of them, they had broken the promises they’d made.
Stepping into the house as her father’s butler took care of getting her luggage from the car, she moved to his office, where he’d directed her.
She just wanted to go to bed and go to sleep. She felt ravaged inside, broken in so many pieces that she had no idea how to deal with life now.
Knocking on the office door, she stepped inside a second later and knew the day wasn’t quite over. As much as she wished she could block out the world, she would first have to deal with Margot.
“You asked to see me when I returned?” Stepping to her father’s desk, she stood before him, determined to get through whatever awaited her now.
Silence greeted her. For some reason her parents’ faces lost their expressions of fury. They simply stared back at her now as though uncertain what to say to her.
Margot sighed heavily. “Oh, Alyssa, what have you let them do to you?”
Alyssa didn’t think she’d ever heard such a tone of pain and regret in her mother’s voice, but that observation was quickly overshadowed by the implication of what she’d said.
Her gaze locked with her mother’s pale one, and in it Alyssa saw a bitter anger that would have terrified her before she left for Spain.
“How did you find out?” She stood before them, unashamed. She wasn’t ashamed, just so very, very tired and broken inside.
Margot moved stiffly. Lifting the envelope from the desk as Alyssa watched her father jerk from his chair and pace to the other side of the office. Accepting it, she opened the envelope and pulled the contents free.
She’d already been ravaged. Everything inside her was already broken, her heart and soul devastated by Shane and Sebastian’s betrayal. Only to face yet another blow.
She did so stoically. She looked at each picture, wanting to see, to know the brutal truth of the lengths they were willing to go to in distancing themselves from her. When she read the note that accompanied the pictures, she sat down abruptly in the chair behind her.
The strength in her knees abandoned her. The tears she swore she would hold back for the baby’s sake she lost temporary control of. Her breath hitched as they spilled from her eyes. Silent tears—the sobs had been silenced in Spain—several hitting the letter before she finished it.
“Well then,” she whispered, and tucked the letter back into the envelope with the pictures. “I guess I didn’t see that coming.”
She carefully folded the flap before rising to her feet and facing her parents.
“They had no reason to worry,” she assured her parents. “Neither do you. There will be no attempt to contact them.”
It was all she could do to stand before them. Why had Shane and Sebastian done this to her? What point was there in sending her parents such horrible photos or such threats?
“Alyssa, what possessed you?” Margot’s voice was rough, the barely banked fury resonating in it. “Where was your common sense?”
Where was her common sense?
She shook her head wearily. “I’m so sorry, Mother,” she whispered painfully. “Sorrier than you could ever know. But I have no excuses—”
“I didn’t ask for a fucking excuse, girl!” Margot snapped, her voice rising as she leaned forward, her hands braced on the desk. “I asked what happened to your common sense?”
What had happened to it? What had happened to her heart and soul?
“I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “I just don’t know.…”
Turning from her parents, she moved slowly to the office door once again and left her parents standing, watching her, as she left the room. It took everything she had to walk through the house and climb the stairs to her bedroom. Every ounce of strength she possessed just to get to that last sanctuary she had to hide.
Closing the door behind her, she made it to the bed, crawled in fully clothed, and pulled the comforter around her.
Margot, being Margot, of course had to follow her. God, her mother was like a bulldog with a bone.
Entering the bedroom, she stood at Alyssa’s bed for long moments before pulling the chair that sat next to the nightstand closer and sitting down heavily.
“Alyssa…”
“I won’t discuss it.” She couldn’t discuss it. She couldn’t let herself speak of it; she couldn’t let herself remove the shield she’d placed around the memories long enough to make sense of anything right now.
“What did they do to you?” The faint horror in her mother’s tone did nothing to cover the rage. “What did you let them do to you, Alyssa?”
She had let them cut her heart and soul from her body. She’d left both in Spain, searching endlessly, sobbing out in agony at the destruction the cousins had left in their wake.
“I’ll be okay,” she promised, her hand lying on her stomach beneath the comforter, the child resting there her only certainty that she hadn’t imagined the months she’d spent in their arms. “I’m just so tired. I just need to sleep. Please, just let me sleep.” And she hoped when she awoke she’d learn it was all just a very, very bad dream.
She’d awaken in their arms, their warmth surrounding her, their promise still suspended from a chain about her neck. Everything would be okay. It was just a very bad dream.
“… just a very bad dream.”
Margot heard the faint words as shock resounded through her entire system. The chill that swept over her shook her to the core and enraged her at the same time.
This wasn’t her daughter. She looked like her, but she wasn’t the girl who had left for Spain three months before. And she wasn’t the daughter who had feared her mother’s wrath. There was no fear left in Alyssa. There was nothing left inside her. Not fear, not the dreams that always had filled her eyes, or the emotions she always had allowed to get the better of her.
Bleak, ravaged pain was all she’d seen in her daughter’s eyes.
And in that moment Margot knew a regret that sliced open her heart. This gentle, sensitive soul she’d never believed she knew how to love, had actually been the one person she truly loved, clear to her soul.