even his butler was immune to a pretty face and a shapely ass. What did they really know about this woman? She used an old connection and they just let her inside the gates? She could be a reporter working undercover. She could be a wronged investor looking for revenge. Hell, she could be a gold-digging tramp who’d set herself up at the right time and place, hoping to latch onto the family’s remaining fortune in a time of weakness.
He dragged a hand through his hair. ‘Get her out of here. Tomorrow at the latest. I want the woman gone.’
‘But Master Wolfe, I –’
‘In the morning, Leonard. That’s all the time I’ll give her.’
The butler schooled his face and bowed stiffly from the waist. ‘As you wish. I’ll deliver the message to Ms Bardot personally.’
He was practically out of the room before the words sank in. Alex turned on his heel, away from the window. ‘Bardot?’
He moved towards the kitchen when Leonard didn’t return and they nearly collided in the hallway. ‘Did you say “Bardot”?’
The butler gave a concise nod. ‘Yes, sir. She’s Randolph Bardot’s daughter.’
Alex rocked back on his heels. Randolph Bardot, his grandfather’s business partner. Son of a bitch.
He quickly backtracked. ‘That can’t be. I’ve met his wife and kids. They’re only teenagers.’
And that seductress down the hill was a woman in every sense of the word.
‘That would be his second wife, I believe. I was employed by Mr Bardot when Miss Elena was a young girl, before your grandfather hired me away.’
Alex stepped back to look through the picture window. The lake house was still locked up tight, but light glowed, warm and inviting. He wandered closer. Randolph Bardot’s daughter. If he needed any more reasons to stay away from her, that one went to the top of the list. How much did she know?
Leonard followed quietly at his side. ‘She’s had a difficult time of it, too, since … the event. When she came asking for help, I couldn’t turn her away. I thought you’d understand.’
Oh, Alex understood all right.
It was hell when you discovered the depths to which the people closest to you could sink, and her father and his grandfather had been hand in hand on their way into the gutter. He thought of her sweet face and her delicate form.
He scanned the lake again. The glittering jewels were gone, and the surface had turned dark and impenetrable. ‘It’s not good that she’s here, Leonard,’ he said quietly.
‘I realise that now, sir.’
‘I’ll need to look into this.’
‘Of course, but in the meantime?’
Ax didn’t waver, but he decided to give an inch.
‘She can stay.’ Until he figured her out, she could stay.
* * *
Elena’s breaths were short as she braced her hand flat above the lock on the door. Darkness peeked through the window panes and she yanked the short curtains into place. She backed away until she found herself in the bedroom. She tossed the yoga mat into the corner and began to pace about the room.
Alex Wolfe. The Ax. He was back. He was here. How could that be?
She dove for the bed, opened her laptop and quickly fired it up. It didn’t take long to find the story. It was the lead on every news site she opened. ‘Alex Wolfe Freed’ read the headline.
‘Good behaviour?’ she coughed. ‘Good behaviour?’
The man had been at the heart of the biggest Ponzi scheme in the past century. He and his grandfather – and her father – had lied to people, wiped out life savings and driven businesses into the ground. Hundreds of millions of dollars were gone. She pushed the laptop aside so hard it slid across the bed. She dove to catch it before it could tip over the edge.
‘That’s all you need,’ she reprimanded herself. That laptop held all the work for her dissertation, the doctoral degree that would help her support herself and her mother and get them out of this mess. Neither of them had the funds to buy a new one now.
She rolled off the bed and began pacing again but finally stopped and leaned against the doorjamb. She wasn’t a pacer; she did her best thinking when all was still. She needed to slow down and consider what this change in her situation meant.
Alex Wolfe had been released early from prison. He’d done his time and served his sentence. He was a free man, back on his own property. She stroked the door’s oak trim. This was his property.
She couldn’t stay here. There was no way.
But where would she go?
Another shiver went through her, significantly cooler than the one she’d felt outside under his watchful gaze. There was nowhere else she could find the peace to do her work. It had become impossible back in the city. Once her classmates at NYU had figured out who her father was, the attacks had been relentless. The harsh accusations, the scathing stares, the stalking by the press …
She moved to the living room, wrapped herself in the afghan on the sofa and huddled into its cushions. The leather was Wolfe property; the afghan was hers.
She never would have come here if she’d thought she’d cross paths with the man. He was supposed to be behind bars for another six months, and she’d thought that sentence was too lenient. Most people had agreed with her.
‘Damn overcrowding,’ she hissed. How could the prisons be overcrowded when people who should be locked up were still roaming around free? People like his grandfather Bartholomew.
Angry with herself for going down that path, Elena tugged the ponytail holder out of her hair and ran her hands through the long strands. She was scared, she had to admit it. What was she going to do? She wasn’t ready to go back outside that wrought-iron gate, back into the real world. It had chewed her up and spit her out. She’d come here looking for answers.
But she didn’t have them yet.
She glanced around the cottage. She’d grown accustomed to the quiet little place in the month she’d been here. The house was nicer than the one she’d grown up in, but that’s how the Wolfe family thought of it … as a bungalow. Yet it fit her needs. It had given her the seclusion she’d needed to lick her wounds and concentrate on her studies. Leonard had even given her free access to the library in the main house. She’d only ventured out to Bedford a few times for groceries or to the post office. She’d grown comfortable here.
She didn’t feel so comfortable any more.
She pulled the afghan higher around her shoulders. God, the man was something. Enigmatic and provocative. She hated to think what he’d be like up close. All that danger and power and mercilessness rolled into one.
She shifted on the sofa, rubbing her thighs together unconsciously. She knew she should run, but the way he’d looked at her …
What was she going to do?
This changed everything.
Elena slid another box into the trunk of her old-model Malibu and wondered for the hundredth time if everything would fit. She’d been up most of the night worrying and packing. It was amazing how deeply she’d settled into the lake house in such a short time. She hadn’t collected much stuff, but it had expanded somehow. It was certainly strewn about. She was still finding NYU mugs in the kitchen and peppermint lipgloss in the bathroom.
She wedged the box tighter against one that was already stowed. The space was going to be needed. She hadn’t packed