Seducing the Billionaire's Daughter Read online

  The door opened with a soft whoosh and he moved to the living room, his shoes barely making a sound against the dark hardwood floors. Although he was nearly six foot five, he knew how to tread lightly. Surviving special missions tended to do that to a man, then again, treading lightly wasn’t a guarantee either.

  He went to the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey over crushed ice. While he enjoyed the smooth burn of the liquor, he wandered over to his sofa and sat down, then grabbed his laptop from the coffee table.

  Setting his drink down, he opened the computer and entered London’s name into the Google search bar. Unsurprised when the page loaded with hundreds of thousands of hits with her name in it—or at least her last name in them.

  However, one in particular caught his eye. He clicked on the link and was taken to the company’s website. Quickly scanning the menu, he clicked on the ABOUT page, not surprised at all to find London Montgomery’s beautiful face smiling back at him.

  “Jackpot.”

  5

  Sawyer

  The next day, he made the nearly three-hour drive from Raleigh to Charlotte. Even after making millions in the tech security business, old habits died hard. Hell, even before he had the money to spend on renting a private jet for the day, he drove everywhere in his reliable F150.

  Now he’d upgraded to a newer model F-150 with all the bells and whistles. He might be a Jersey boy by birth, but there was something about a truck. Maybe it was the years he’d spent at war that made him gravitate toward everything that was quintessentially American in his eyes: A truck, craftsman style house in an established neighborhood, picket fence, wife, and kids.

  Only his ex-wife had left him before he could get out of the Marines and make those dreams come true.

  At least she’d done him a solid by leaving the Dear John letter front and center, along with her wedding band, on the mantle above the fireplace.

  Chrissy had always been real classy like that. So classy she’d fucked her ex-boyfriend while Sawyer was dodging bullets and terrorist in the Middle East, then ended up marrying him.

  Last he heard, they’d moved to the west coast and had a couple of kids.

  Man, she had fucked with his head, but she’d also given him the freedom to change his course. To actually build a business that would give him the experience he needed to finally take on his real enemy—John Taggart.

  It was nothing personal. He simply wanted what was due to him, like eighteen years worth of child support. The money he would give his mom. She deserved a windfall like that.

  Even if she didn’t need it anymore.

  He’d made sure of that as soon as he’d made his first million. He’d set her up in Boca Raton, Florida in a nice house, with a part-time maid and a cook so she didn’t have to clean another house or cook another meal if she didn’t want to. Growing up, she’d done without to take care of him, so it stood to reason in his head, that he could do the same for her.

  One day soon, he hoped she’d meet a man who would treat her like a queen. It wasn’t right that she was alone like that... not that his mom didn’t have a social life. She loved girls’ night out with her friends so much that they went out at least three days a week to celebrate it.

  Every one of those friends had a single daughter who would be perfect for him, which is why he avoided them like the plague.

  Which brought him right back to London Montgomery. She kissed like a dream, looked like an angel, and was related to a family that didn’t strike him as much better than the Taggarts.

  After all, her father and his had been best friends before they parted ways over a scandal that Sawyer couldn’t give two fucks about.

  London was a complication that he hadn’t counted on. Hell, he’d been telling the truth when he said he had no idea who she was. He hadn’t researched the entire family, only the brother running Montgomery Industries and his father. The fact that there were two other siblings who didn’t work for MI had made no difference to him. They weren’t targets. They were on the peripheral and if he had needed to deal with them, he would have, but his focus was on the current CEO.

  Only now his focus was on the youngest Montgomery. He couldn’t stop thinking about her emerald eyes and gorgeous smile. He’d stared at her image far longer than was reasonable, and he’d always considered himself reasonable, if not intentional.

  No good could come of the two of them. It wasn’t as if he were biased against London or even women in general. She was nothing like his ex-wife in looks, temperament, or even socioeconomic class. They were nearly polar opposites in every way.

  Plus, he’d never been so taken with a woman, not right from the start. He sure as fuck had never considered himself enchanted with a woman. That night though, kissing her was like coming home, like he’d found exactly where he was meant to be. One thing he learned while at war was to never discount your gut reaction to a situation or a person, and his gut was telling him that London would change everything if he chose to pursue her.

  Taggart Securities’ building loomed in the distance and his head reminded him to get in the game. He took the next exit and then a right so that he could pass through the security entrance.

  They were expecting him, and it had only taken thirty-two years for his sperm donor to send an invite to headquarters—not that he was bitter or anything.

  Bitter didn’t begin to describe how he felt about his biological father or the rest of the Taggart clan. However, he knew they thought they were being magnanimous by allowing the illegitimate son to enter their domain.

  The tiny carrot John Taggart was dangling in front of him wasn’t going to be enough. It would never be enough.

  With a grimace, he parked his truck at the main entrance of the building, then made his way to his father’s offices.

  “Mr. Taggart is expecting you,” a perky blonde said as soon as she saw him. She was young, curvy, and wore an outfit that John Taggart most likely viewed as a required uniform of his female employees—the bastard. “Go right in.”

  “Thank you.” Briefly, he wondered if she were having an affair with John, not that it mattered. Nothing mattered but taking what was rightfully his.

  As he walked into the office, he couldn’t help but notice the wealth blatantly on display. The pictures of John with politicians, movie stars, and titans of industry.

  “You must be Sawyer, the opportunistic asshole.”

  Sawyer turned his attention to the desk. Behind it sat a man who not only looked like him, but was most likely the same age. “You must be Jack.” He wouldn’t resort to insults, only the weak did that against someone who was clearly scared of being displaced of his position in the family.

  The man nodded. “It’s not quite like looking in a mirror.”

  “Unfortunately, we both look like our sperm donor,” Sawyer said, wondering where in the hell John was hiding. “Are you his spokesman?”

  Jack smirked. “Actually, no. He’s running late and I wanted to meet my long, lost half-brother.”

  Sure he did. “Why would you want to do that now? You’ve had years to make that happen.”

  “Because you weren’t after my job when you were in the Marines and after that, you were too busy busting your ass to build your company.”

  Jack knew he served? Sawyer picked up a framed picture of John standing with one of the past presidents. “John hasn’t retired or stepped down yet, so it’s a bit premature to say the job is yours.”

  Jack stood, coming around the desk to join him. They were nearly the same height and shared the same broad shoulders, blue eyes, and dark brown hair. “Coming from you, that’s laughable.”

  “Taking what’s rightfully mine is a matter I take very seriously.”

  Jack eyed him. “Why should this be yours? Because of your last name?”

  Sawyer shrugged and carefully placed the picture on the shelf. “Isn’t that why you’d inherit it, as the oldest... except, I’m the oldest, so...I’m here to collect what’s coming
to me.”

  “I don’t think you want what’s coming to you,” Jack said, then stiffened as John walked in the office. “Hello, dad.”

  “Get out. I need to talk privately with Sawyer.”

  Jack’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he said, “Nice to finally meet you, Sawyer.”

  “You, too.” Sawyer turned his attention to John. Man, he wished time had been unkind to the man, but unfortunately, he looked far younger than sixty-five. “I want a place at the table. The head would do nicely, but I’ll wait, say six weeks for you to retire with dignity.”

  John threw his head back, laughing heartily. “You’ve got some big ones. Damn, you’re a chip off the block. The head of the table. Shit, son. Have a seat.”

  “I think I’ll stand.” Sawyer smiled blandly. “I have no interest in negotiating with you. I want to know what it will take for me to be the one sitting at your desk... except it will be my desk.”

  John’s humorous expression faded, his blue eyes turning serious. “Answer me this first: why should I choose you to take over instead of my namesake? Jack’s put in the time, the schooling... he’s polished and has all the right connections. Plus, he keeps his dick in his pants and doesn’t fuck with the help.”

  Sawyer didn’t miss the insults that John threw his way while extolling Jacks’ qualifications. “I don’t fuck with employees either. As for the rest of my qualifications, I’ve built a half-a-billion-dollar company from the ground up and managed to buy out three of your competitors in the last two years.”

  “What can you bring to the table?”

  “What do I need to bring to the table?” There was no way he would suggest anything to the man. He wanted to get straight to the point, no bullshit.

  John stroked his jaw. “I want what every businessman wants—to take out my biggest competitor, permanently.”

  Although he knew the answer and hated it, maybe even hated himself in the moment, he asked, “What would that entail? Takeover, stock buyout, or change of board?”

  “I want you to burn the company to the ground—figuratively, of course, but we have to show their clients that they can’t be trusted. That their product is shit or worse.”

  What could be worse than a shit product? “If those things were true, why would we have to be the ones to show their clients?”

  John shrugged. “The media is both judge and executioner, no trial required. All they need to do is smell blood. We chum the waters for them... and once their stock is worthless, we buy it up and dismantle the company.”

  “What about their employees?”

  “What about them? I only want the tech team. The rest can go to hell for all I care.”

  Sawyer stared at John. What in the hell had his mom ever seen in the man? “What if I care?” he asked evenly.

  “It would be your company, wouldn’t it?” John flashed a smile. “Show me what you can do and I’ll give you a seat at the table, ahead of Jack... unless he brings them down first.”

  “We’re in competition.” It wasn’t a question.

  John chuckled. “Of course, I want the best son to win. If that’s you, all this is yours.”

  “And you’ll retire.”

  “I’ll stay on with the advisory board. I think people would miss seeing me around here.”

  Just then, the buxom secretary walked in the office, carrying a tray laden with coffee and a selection of fruits and cheeses. John smiled predatorily at the woman.

  “You’d miss me, wouldn’t you, sweetheart.”

  The blonde nodded. “Of course, Mr. Taggart.”

  Sawyer narrowed his eyes. Did she mean it, or was she simply going along? He wasn’t exactly against employee and boss relations, but he was against the imbalance of power that naturally existed between them. “You don’t have to agree with him.”

  The blonde gave him an annoyed look. “I’m not agreeing with him. John, I mean Mr. Taggart, has been very good to me. This is the best job I’ve ever had.”

  “That’s because you’re the best secretary I’ve ever had,” John said, then took the tray from her. “I told you to stop carrying these, Carrie. It can’t be good for the baby.”

  Oh, fuck him sideways. Was Carrie his mistress and the mother of his next child? “Don’t forget our appointment for tomorrow. We get to hear the baby’s heartbeat!”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” John kissed Carrie’s cheek, then patted her ass before she hurried out of the office. “She’s a sweet woman. I don’t deserve her.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My fiancé. I don’t deserve her.” John sighed. “My wife left me two years ago, as I suspect you already know. I plan on marrying Carrie after the baby’s born. I want to marry her now, but she wants to wait.”

  Why John thought Sawyer would want to know any of that, he didn’t have a clue. Still, he said, “Congrats.”

  “I know you think the worst of me, and I didn’t do right by Regina. She’s a good woman. Took better care of you than I ever could. Doesn’t excuse my lack of support. I plan to make that up to her. Do you think she’d want a check or cash?”

  What sort of twilight zone episode was he in? “I think she wants to be left alone.”

  John held up his hands. “Whatever you say is what I’ll go by. You know her best. Anyway, let’s touch base in a week, and make firm plans. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

  A sliver of dread ran through him, reminding him of the first time he’d encountered the enemy in Afghanistan. He knew what he had to do, but part of him rebelled at the thought. Part of him wanted nothing to do with killing another human being, but they had hostages—three American civilians.

  Sawyer pushed away the memories. This was nothing like that situation. He had a goal, and that goal was to take Taggart Industries away from its founder. “Yeah. We’ll talk next week.”

  6

  London

  She was running late, and she never ran late. It had been drilled into her head since childhood that ten minutes early was actually on time.

  Glancing at her watch, she groaned and picked up the pace. At this rate, she’d only be two minutes early to her lunch meeting with a potential new client. Two minutes was not enough time to compose herself or prepare, in her opinion. But, as her brother Connor liked to say, life happens, and she’d gotten her heel stuck in a grate right as she stepped outside.

  Since she didn’t have another pair of shoes with her, or time to get a new pair, she all but ripped her precious Louboutin from the grate, nearly crying when the heel not only had a visible tear, but also looked close to snapping in half.

  The sign for the diner came into sight and she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe, once she gave her heels a break, it would be fine. Miracles could happen.

  With a bright smile, she opened the door and turned her ankle, yelping as she hopped on one foot. When she attempted to stand, she heard a distinctive snap and her blood ran cold. “Oh no, no, no, no.”

  The hostess rushed to her. “Oh no. Are you okay?”

  “Mostly.” London wanted to cry. Only, if she cried, she’d look like some silly, little rich girl with first world problems. No one sympathized with that, not even her, and her brothers accused her over being over-sympathetic. “My heel snapped.”

  “Did you have a reservation? I can totally help you to your table.”

  Biting her lip, London nodded. This was so not professional and so unfair, but that was life. Oh geez. Now she was internalizing like her brother Drew. “Two for Montgomery. “

  “Yup. I have you down. Lean on me,” the hostess said. “Do you need ice for your ankle?”

  London tested her foot. Pain didn’t shoot out of anywhere, thankfully, but her ankle did feel a little tender. “No, but if you have super glue, that would be very helpful.”

  “I’m Debbie by the way.” She helped London into the chair. “So, if you think you can trust me with those amazing shoes, I’ll fix them up for you. I’m a fashion major at S
tate, if that helps?”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Really, I’d love to. I’ve never actually held a pair of the infamous red-soled shoes, so...”

  London slipped off her shoes, reaching down to grab them. She handed them to Debbie. “Thank you so much, and I’m London. Please, please let me know what I can do to repay you.”

  Debbie held the shoes to her chest. “You’re literally making my dream come true. One of my goals is to work for Louboutin. I feel like Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother, right now.”

  “Then far be it from me to stop you from living your best life.”

  Debbie dashed to the back as the waitress came by her table to fill the water glasses.

  “Would you like to hear about today’s specials?”

  “Sure.” London nodded as she kept an eye on the front door. She had no idea what her client looked like, but he or she should know what she looked like since they’d contacted her via her business website.

  The door opened and who should walk in, looking like he owned the place, but Sawyer Taggart.

  “Chicken—

  “That sounds perfect.” London grabbed the menu, hiding her face with it while she peeked around the side. “And I’ll have a Caesar salad, too.”

  “You want two chicken Caesar salads?”

  Sawyer’s gaze crashed with hers, and she ducked her head, then glanced up at the waitress. “I’m sorry but could you move so you’re blocking my view of the door?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The sun is in my eyes.” London waved her over. “I just need one chicken Caesar salad, but um, not until my lunch date—client.... Oh my gosh, but not until my guest shows up. Okay?” She’d never been this flustered in her life.

  The waitress gave her a strange look and London couldn’t blame her. She was acting completely out of character and weird, but what were the chances that she’d have a meeting in the exact restaurant Sawyer would come to?