Free Legacy of Lies by Joann Ross Page B

to take her. “I don’t think…I need…” She could stand this no longer.
    But he taunted her with his control, stripping away her defenses layer by layer, leaving her raw and vulnerable.
    And then finally he took her. As the passion rose, furiously like a wind before a thunderstorm, Alex clung to Debord, surrendering to the rhythm. To him.
    The designer arched his back for a long, charged moment, every gleaming muscle in his body cast into sharp relief. Heat flooded through Alex’s body, echoing his primal cry. It was as if the flame of their passion had ignited into a blinding fireball, searing them together for all time.
    Forever, she thought as she lay in the strong protective circle of his arms, her lips curved in a secret womanly smile. The final phase of her life’s plan had blessedly come true. Just as she’d always dreamed. She and Debord were now inexorably linked—creative minds, spirits and bodies. Forever.
    London
    Located in the heart of modern London, The City, as it was known, was considered by many to be the wealthiest square mile on earth. It was also synonymous with power. Roman legions had once camped on land now taken over by towering high-rise office buildings, medieval guilds had plied their trades here, and swashbuckling capitalists—men who financed wars and countries—had transacted million-pound deals on the strength of a gentleman’s handshake.
    These days, Americans and Japanese were rushing into The City in droves, clutching stuffed briefcases and folded editions of the Financial Times . The deals now made in The City tended to be about French films, Arab oil imports and shopping centers.
    â€œYou’ve come a long way from the bayou, boy,” Zach murmured as he watched a flock of pigeons circling the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral.
    â€œYou talking to me?” the taxi driver asked, looking at his fare in the rearview mirror.
    â€œNo. Just thinking out loud.”
    The driver shrugged and concentrated on making his way through the crush of traffic.
    The business day was coming to a close. Workers poured forth from the buildings, headed toward the Undergroundwhich would take them back to their homes in Knightsbridge and Mayfair. Buses forged their way through the crowded streets.
    Tomorrow morning the same people would all rush back, talking fast, working hard, coming up with innovative new ways to make dizzying amounts of money. Because one thing that never changed was that money remained the lifeblood of The City.
    Just as money was the reason for Zach’s being in London. He’d come here on Lord’s business. Or at least that was what he’d been trying to tell himself.
    But the minute Miranda’s butler opened the door, Zach knew that the overriding reason he’d flown across a continent and an ocean was to be with the woman he’d not been able to get out of his mind for the past three weeks.
    He knew he was behaving uncharacteristically. He couldn’t remember a time, even during his horny teenage years, when he’d been so obsessed with sex. Of course, he’d never met a woman like Miranda Lord before, either, Zach mused as he followed the dark-suited butler into the drawing room.
    â€œIt’s done,” he greeted her without preamble.
    â€œDone?” She stubbed out her cigarette in a Lalique ashtray and crossed the room on a swish of crimson silk. “Do you mean…”
    Feeling like a knight returning after a successful Crusade, he set his briefcase on a priceless Louis Quinze table and extracted a single piece of paper.
    â€œLord Smythe deeply regrets having caused you emotional distress. As proof of his willingness to accept full blame in the breakup of your marriage, not only has he dropped all claims against your assets, but he insists on paying all legal fees having to do not only with his attempt to acquire your Lord’s stock, but the divorce, as