Rival's Challenge
When one night with a stranger turns to more . . .Orla Kennedy doesn’t take risks. But, on the eve of a business deal, nerves lead her to share a drink with a handsome stranger, which results in a night of passion she’ll never forget. Then Orla discovers that the man in question is Antonio Chatsfield — her biggest rival!Antonio might be a war hero to his family, but his life feels as empty as his recently vacated bed. He never wanted to return to The Chatsfield, London, but his sister needs his help. And he’s more than willing, until he meets the woman who came apart in his bed just hours before! Now Antonio’s sights are set on a merger of a different kind…Welcome to The Chatsfield, London!
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âYou can give upMr Chatsfieldâthat became redundant right about the first time I brought you to orgasm last night.â
Orla gasped at his crudeness even as a hot flush seemed to sweep her from head to toe. âYouâre doing us no favours, Chatsfield. Youâre interested in taking my familyâs hotel business over purely because it suits some purpose of yours. And Iâm going to find out what that purpose is.â
Antonioâs eyes flashed at her continued use of Chatsfield and bit out acerbically, âPerhaps if youâd spent less time indulging that wickedly wanton siren youâre so desperately trying to hide underneath that virginal suit today, then you might be a little closer to figuring it out.â
Step into the opulent glory of the worldâs most elite hotel, where clients are the impossibly rich and exceptionally famous.
Whether youâre in America, Australia, Europe or Dubai, our doors will always be open â¦
Welcome to
Synonymous with style, sensation ⦠and scandal!
For years, the children of Gene Chatsfieldâglobal hotel entrepreneurâhave shocked the worldâs media with their exploits. But no longer! When Gene appoints a new CEO, Christos Giatrakos, to bring his children into line, little did he know what he was starting.
Christosâ first command scatters the Chatsfields to the furthest reaches of their international holdingsâfrom Las Vegas to Monte Carlo, Sydney to San Francisco ⦠but will they rise to the challenge set by a man who hides dark secrets in his past?
Let the games begin!
Your room has been reserved, so check in to enjoy all the passion and scandal we have to offer.
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ABBY GREEN deferred doing a social anthropology degree to work freelance as an assistant director in the film and television industryâwhich is a social study in itself! Since then itâs been early starts, long hours, mucky fields, ugly car parks and wet-weather gearâespecially working in Ireland. She has no bona fide qualifications, but could probably help negotiate a peace agreement between two warring countries after years of dealing with recalcitrant actors. Since discovering a guide to writing romance one day, she decided to capitalise on her long-time love for Mills & Boon>® romances and attempt to follow in the footsteps of such authors as Kate Walker and Penny Jordan.
Sheâs enjoying the excuse to be paid to sit inside, away from the elements. She lives in Dublin and hopes that you will enjoy her stories. You can e-mail her at [email protected].
This is for Suzanne Clarkeâeditor extraordinaire. One of the best ones. Thank you for your wisdom and guidance!
This is also for Dermot Cosgrove, who gave me invaluable insight into the French Foreign Legionâthank you! Any mistakes are purely my own.
Table of Contents
ANTONIO CHATSFIELD SENT silent not interested vibes to the lustrous dark-haired beauty sitting at the bar with her breasts displayed to prominent advantage in her low-cut dress, her kohl-enhanced eyes firmly on him.
Everything about her jangled at his sensitive nerve ends. She was too obvious. Too smooth. Too polished. This whole place was too polished. He cast a jaundiced glance around the dark and sensual bar space of his familyâs London flagship hotel. For the past decade heâd been used to surroundings that were more likely to be made of rubble and scented with the stench of chaos, death and panic. But he pushed those thoughts aside. Not now.
Heâd chosen to come here for the dark corners and dim lighting as opposed to drinking himself into a stupor in the hotel suite which he currently called home. He smiled grimly to himself: at least he could appreciate the functionality of wanting to numb himself while in the presence of other humans. His therapist would undoubtedly approve.
That functionality had been hard fought for but even now the familiar feeling of skin-prickling clamminess was never too far away for him to forget completelyâthe stomach-churning terror that used to grip him at random moments, sparked by something as minor as a dog barking or a loud noise, wrenching him out of the present and back to the cataclysmic past.
But the drink wasnât having much of an effect this evening. It was as if the acerbity inside him was diluting the effects. Even the woman lost interest now, turning her attention to another man who had just arrived at the other end of the bar. Antonio saw them exchange glances and saw the man indicate for the bartender to order her another drink.
Mentally he saluted them. Heâd had enough encounters like that in his time. He just wasnât in the mood for one right now. Something spiked in his gut; he hadnât been in the mood for longer than he cared to admit, preferring to bury himself in work to avoid the gaping chasm inside him that he used to fill with meaningless encounters and high-octane danger.
