The Billionaire's Bride of Vengeance
Bedded for revenge – but wedded…? Though he’s super-rich and super-eligible, marriage hasn’t been on Russell McClain’s agenda. The handsome Sydney tycoon is focused on exacting a very personal revenge – and Nicole Power, his sworn enemy’s daughter, is central to his plan…Nicole will pay for her father’s sins: Russell will ruthlessly seduce her, bed her and discard her. But when his desire for Nicole becomes very real and very strong, one night is not enough. Making Nicole his bride might just satisfy his need for vengeance…Three Rich Husbands When a wealthy man takes a wife, it’s not always for love…
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He would still bed her tonight.
But having Nicole Power mindless with desire for him would be an added bonus. How brilliantly satisfying that would be!
His hand moved and his fingers found their goal.
Her nipple was hard, like a river pebble.
âNo, donât,â she whimpered.
He ignored her protest and bent his head to put his mouth where his fingertip had been.
There was absolutely no pretence in her responses. She was his, to do with as he pleased. His to explore and exploit. His to win and maybe even to wed.
Did he want to go that far? Did he want to see her walk down the aisle in white? Did he want to see blind adoration as well as the mindless desire heâd just glimpsed in her beautiful green eyes?
There was only one answer to those questions.
An unequivocal yes.
THREE RICH MEN
When a wealthy man takes a wife, itâs not always for loveâ¦
Meet Russell, Hugh and James,three wealthy Sydney businessmen whoâve beenthe best of friends for ages. They know each othervery wellâincluding the reasons why none of thembelieves in marrying for love.
While Russell and Hughhave so far remained single, James isabout to embark on his second marriage.
But all this is set to changeas not just James but Russell and Hugh too aredriven to the altar. Have any of them changedtheir mind about loveâor are they ruthlesslymaking marriages of convenience?
THE BILLIONAIREâS BRIDE OF VENGEANCE
RUSSELLâS hands tightened on the steering wheel as he arrived at the address heâd been given.
âMr Power is out of the office today,â heâd been told when he burst into Power Mortgages half an hour earlier and demanded to see Alistair Power.
At first the receptionist had refused to tell Russell where Power might be, no doubt sensing trouble in the eyes of the distraught young man standing in front of her desk. But Russellâs ironically truthful statement that he had urgent business with her boss concerning the tragic death of a business associate had finally elicited the information he wanted. Mr Power and his wife were at the construction site of their new home in the exclusive Sydney suburb of Belleview Hill.
Russell had somehow managed a smile and the girl had jotted down the address.
He wasnât smiling now, a bitter bile filling his mouth as he stared up at what was obviously going to be a grand mansion. Amazing what one could buy with other peopleâs money!
Russell wrenched the wheel of his rusty old car towards the gravel driveway and drove right up to the front of the three-storeyed building. The shell of the house was finished, the roof was on, the front steps in place. A middle-aged man in a superbly tailored business suit was standing up on the porch, a leggy blonde next to him.
Powerâs trophy wife, obviously.
Russell didnât stop to think, his emotions spilling over at the sight of the man whose greed had driven his father to despair and suicide. Hatred propelled him out of the car, his hands curling into furious fists as he charged up the steps.
âAlistair Power!â he called out at the same time.
Cool grey eyes raked over him; Power was not overly perturbed, it seemed, by Russellâs aggressive approach.
âYes. Can I help you?â
Russell could not believe the manâs lack of concern. Couldnât he see his visitor had murder in his heart?
Russell resisted the urge to punch Power then and there. First, he wanted the creep to know who he was and why heâd come.
âI thought youâd like to know that my father killed himself last week.â
Powerâs eyebrows arched. âAnd your father is?â
âThat name means nothing to me. I know no Keith McClain.â
My God, he didnât even recognise his fatherâs name! Yet Russell knew that his dadâhis shy but proud dadâhad gone to Power personally and begged him for more time to repay his loan.
âYou knew him well enough to let him take out two mortgages on his farm,â Russell ground out, âwhen he had no possible means of meeting the repayments. He had no stock, no crops, no income. The ten-year drought had seen to that. But his land was valuable, wasnât it? So you deliberately let him get into debt and then you just took it!â
âYoung man, I donât force people to take out mortgages.â
âYou shouldnât agree to lend money which you know people canât pay back,â Russell countered heatedly. âIâve made some enquiries about Power Mortgages and thatâs your modus operandi.â
Power didnât bat an eyelid. âI havenât done anything illegal. The mistake was your fatherâs. He should have sold his property rather than borrow more money.â
âBut the land had been in his family for generations! He knew nothing else but farming.â
âThatâs not my fault.â
âBut it is your fault. You, and men like you. You donât have any feelings, any compassion. All you care about is making money.â
âBusiness has little room for compassion, son.â
âDonât you call me son, you greedy bastard,â Russell snapped, a red haze of grief launching him forwards.