Anything He Wants: Castaway

203 Pages·2013·0.62 MB·English

by  Sara Fawkes

The New York Times and USA Today
bestselling series continues in the
explosive sixth part!

Enigmatic billionaire Jeremiah Hamilton
plucked twenty-four year old Lucy
Delacourt from an existence spiraling
down into darkness. Seduced and
brought into the extravagant lifestyle of
the rich and powerful, Lucy was swept up
into the highest highs, and experienced
dangerous lows, but always there was
her billionaire protector. Safe in his
arms, she thought for sure her life had
finally found the right track.

Until she couldn’t hold back saying
those three little words, and found out
how fragile her new position was.

Her affections spurned by the man she
loves, the dejected young woman
is kidnapped from Jeremiah’s home
and discovers more about another facet
of the Hamilton family legacy. Lucas
Hamilton, known in darker company as
Loki, is an arms dealer and Jeremiah's
brother. He needs Lucy for his own
purposes, but makes it no secret that he
wants to get back at his brother any way
he can for stealing the family empire.
Dangerous outside forces seem intent on
taking the proud and wealthy New York
family down. But what will
broken-hearted Lucy do when her new
captor sets his sights on seduction?
No matter what happens, Lucy’s life will
never again be the same.

Anything He Wants:
Castaway

By Sara Fawkes

Barnes and Noble edition

Copyright 2013. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER 1

Sweat lined the brow of the small
man sitting across from me. The thin
comb-over lay plastered to his forehead
despite the cool air flowing through a
nearby air vent. He hugged a briefcase
close in his lap, not looking at any of the
men who stood around the table. His eyes
kept glancing toward the exit, as if all he
wanted to do was bolt and make a run
from the tension slowly escalating within
the dark room.
I totally understood the sentiment.
“We haven’t got all day,” muttered a
dark-haired Scotsman leaning against the
far wall, but h e was silenced by the
morose glare of the blond man beside him.
Hands clapped down on my
shoulders and I flinched. “Right then,”
came a cheery voice from behind me as
my hands curled into fists beneath the
table. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get
on with the show. Who wants to start?”
Nobody shared his enthusiasm.
Across from me, the thin man flinched at
each word, looking like he wanted to melt
into the floor and disappear. I swallowed
nervously as silence again permeated the
room. Finally one large man leaning
against a nearby wall pulled himself
upright. Everyone else in the room rose
slightly in attention, unconsciously
deferring to his leadership. “Loki,” he
rumbled, the thick Russian accent lending
weight to his words, “now is not the time
for your games.”
“If not now, Vasili, then when?”
I noticed several others in the room
grit their teeth at the jovial reply. Vasili
grunted, then looked across the table from
me. “Doctor Marchand,” the large Russian
murmured, “make your request.”
The thin man started, glancing
blankly up at the Russian. The hands on
my shoulders squeezed enough to get my
attention. “Your turn.”
My turn? I half-turned toward the
man behind me. “To do what?” I tensed as
several sets of eyes in the room turned
toward me.
“Translation, my dear. Dr.
Marchand here is French.”
I gave the arms dealer behind me a
sharp look. If this had been any other
situation, I might also have given Lucas
Hamilton a piece of my mind. I’d been
born in Canada and spoke fluent French,
but I didn’t like being forced into things.
The dark-haired man behind me smiled
placidly, quirking one eyebrow. His
momentary glance about the room took in
the other men before returning back to me
– as if I needed a reminder.
I didn’t even know where I was or
why I was there; this was the first time
anyone had addressed me since we’d
entered the room. I’d been given a seat
while the others glared at one another,
clearly trying to see who had the
biggest…well. I faced the Frenchman,
pursing my lips. “They say to make your
request,” I translated in a dull voice. The
pain of my fingernails biting into my palm
was the only thing keeping me calm.
Marchand turned wide eyes at me,
then licked his lips. His mouth worked for
a moment, as if working up the courage,
then he murmured, “I need help…
smuggling medicines.”