Las Vegas: Seduction: The Heiress's 2-Week Affair

“I was referring to here, at The Janus.” God knew she knew better than to have him around for any length of time beyond that. If she’d thought otherwise, her reaction to his kiss showed her just how weak she was when it came to him.

Matt shrugged in response to her answer. “Two heads are better than one.”

A sarcastic remark hovered on her tongue, but never made it to her lips. In this case, the direct approach was better. “Not this time. I’m due at the house. My father is calling an emergency family meeting. Last I looked, you weren’t family.” And whose fault is that? she added silently.

“No,” he agreed, “but maybe you could use the moral support.”

She took it as a direct slam about her inner strength. Her eyes narrowed as she informed him, “I can handle my father.”

His tone was nonconfrontational. He wasn’t trying to get into a fight; he just wanted to help. When they’d been together, she was the one who’d wanted the kind of family that could only be found in human interest stories and carefully crafted feel-good movies.

“Never said you couldn’t. But I hear that your new stepmother is a piece of work.”

It was more than true but would have required some interaction on his part to learn for himself. “How long did you say you were back?”

“A couple of weeks.” He guessed the reason behind her question. “Word gets around fast,” Matt told her. Especially when you ask questions, he added silently.

“Thanks, but showing up with you would be like waving a red flag in my father’s face. He doesn’t really like you,” she told him honestly.

Matt laughed shortly. “Yeah, I know. He made that pretty clear.”

Her curiosity was instantly aroused. Just how full had those two weeks of his been? Had he come around the mansion without her knowing it?

“When?”

It was ancient history. Matt saw no reason to keep it secret any longer. “When he tried to buy me off.”

That didn’t make any sense. How could her father try to buy him off—and why would he?—if he had a cash flow problem? “I thought that your family supposedly lent my father money so he could get out of the financial hole he was in.”

“That’s now. I’m talking about before.”

Natalie still wasn’t following him. “How much before?”

He waved her question away. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me,” she insisted. Her eyes pinned him in place. He wasn’t going anywhere and neither was she until he answered her question. “When did my father offer you money?”

“Before.” The expression on her face indicated that the single word did nothing to satisfy her curiosity, so he gave her more. “Eight years ago.”

She felt her heart twist. She’d been better off not knowing. “That’s why you left? Because he paid you off?” she asked incredulously. “Why you son of a bit—” Stunned, speechless, she raised her hand, ready to slap him across the face at the insult.

Matt caught her wrist, blocking contact. He knew that for simplicity’s sake, he should hold his peace and let her believe the worst about him. But something wouldn’t let him. He didn’t want her believing that he had been bought off.

She could think he was a rotten human being, not worth her time and certainly not her love, but he didn’t want her believing that she’d been cast aside for thirty pieces of silver.

“He tried to buy me off,” he corrected. “Offered me a bit of money, actually. Back then, your father thought you were worth a quarter of a million dollars. Or maybe that was what getting rid of me was worth to him, I don’t know. But I didn’t take it,” he told her, emphasizing each word.

Confusion washed over her. “If you didn’t leave because of the money—” A wave of jealousy struck. “Was there someone else?”

His eyes met hers. “You know better than that, Natalie.”

“No, I don’t.” She sighed, weary of this uncertain feeling she’d been carrying around with her. It wouldn’t matter if she didn’t feel anything for him, but she did. She wanted answers. “I don’t know better than that. Why did you leave me?”

There was nothing to be gained by this. “It’s in the past, Natalie. Let it go.”

If only she could. She’d tried hard enough, Lord knows, but she’d never gotten to that point. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” he assured her firmly. This was an argument that was not about to be resolved. Not now, not ever. “If you don’t want me coming with you, I won’t,” he agreed. “But you’re going to be late if you don’t get going.”

He was giving her the bum’s rush. Okay for now, she conceded reluctantly. But the gateway to the past had opened, if just a crack. She intended to wedge a crowbar into the tiny space and work it until she managed to open it up all the way.

But right now, she wasn’t up to waging potentially futile battles, so she turned away without a word and just kept walking. Wishing with all her heart that she had never set eyes on Matt Schaffer. Or that, at the very least, he was still back in Los Angeles.

She didn’t need this type of anguish on top of Candace’s murder.

Candace.

She was her top priority. All that mattered was finding out who killed her sister. Finding it out and bringing the bastard down. Whatever that took.

The wide, winding driveway before the mansion that she had once called home was packed with various expensive automobiles. Hers looked like a poor relation. Poor, but energy conscious, she thought wryly.

Recognizing the other vehicles, she realized that she was probably the last to arrive. Couldn’t be helped, Natalie thought.

Couldn’t it? a small, inner voice mocked. You didn’t need to kiss him back. Didn’t need to stand there, talking to him, hanging on his every word the way you used to.

Wow, now she was getting into an argument with herself. She was really losing it, Natalie thought.

Might as well go in and get this over with, she told herself.

When she rang the doorbell, Clive opened the door almost immediately. His expression appeared to be rigid until he saw it was her. And then he smiled, as if to say, “Ah, the normal one.”

Natalie was about to ask the butler if he had stationed himself at the front door to get as far away from her family as possible when she was interrupted by a crash that sounded as if it was coming from the living room.

She raised her eyes quizzically up to Clive’s face.

“That would be Master Ricky,” he informed her, answering her unspoken question.

She frowned. Her half brother was a whirling dervish in search of an accident. A walking example of Attention Deficit Disorder, he constantly left chaos in his wake. Her father was at a loss how to handle him and his mother, Rebecca Lynn, refused to, believing the boy was better off if he was allowed to “express” himself.

This did not have the makings of a good outcome. “Dad called a family meeting, but I thought he meant adults only.”

“Sadly, no,” Clive told her. “Miss Rebecca Lynn wants Master Ricky present. She said something about Miss Candace being an object lesson for him.”

On how not to live your life, apparently, Natalie thought. She couldn’t help taking umbrage for Candace even though she felt that no one should attempt to emulate her late twin’s lifestyle. But then everything connected with her stepmother seemed to irritate her to no end. The woman was like a rash for which there was no cure.

And her father seemed apparently blind to all of his wife’s shortcomings.

Reluctant to walk into the lion’s den, Natalie stalled for a moment. “How’s the meeting coming along?” she asked the butler.