Ruthless Love Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty–One

  Chapter Twenty–Two

  Chapter Twenty–Three

  Chapter Twenty–Four

  Chapter Twenty–Five

  Chapter Twenty–Six

  Chapter Twenty–Seven

  Chapter Twenty–Eight

  Chapter Twenty–Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty–One

  Chapter Thirty–Two

  Chapter Thirty–Three

  Chapter Thirty–Four

  Chapter Thirty–Five

  Chapter Thirty–Six

  Chapter Thirty–Seven

  Chapter Thirty–Eight

  Chapter Thirty–Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Epilogue

  Note from the Author

  Ruthless Love

  by

  Demi Damson

  Copyright © 2017 by Demi Damson. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic, digital, or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the author.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to business, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely incidental.

  Receive free bonus content and other subscriber-only content from Demi! Join her mailing list at:

  www.demidamson.org/newsletter

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  * * *

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty–One

  Chapter Twenty–Two

  Chapter Twenty–Three

  Chapter Twenty–Four

  Chapter Twenty–Five

  Chapter Twenty–Six

  Chapter Twenty–Seven

  Chapter Twenty–Eight

  Chapter Twenty–Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty–One

  Chapter Thirty–Two

  Chapter Thirty–Three

  Chapter Thirty–Four

  Chapter Thirty–Five

  Chapter Thirty–Six

  Chapter Thirty–Seven

  Chapter Thirty–Eight

  Chapter Thirty–Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Epilogue

  Note from the Author

  Chapter One

  Charlotte Nichols

  Charlotte Nichols sipped her getting-cold coffee and sighed. Normally, the noise of the coffee shop in the financial district—her makeshift office—cheered her up. Today, it was just distracting. A dark-haired man in a suit smiled at her. “Is this seat taken?”

  Startled, she smiled back. “Yes, I mean, no, it’s not taken. Yes, you can sit there.” Was he hitting on her?

  But no, he just wanted the chair, which he dragged away to another table. She shook away her disappointment. Was she getting so desperate she hoped some strange businessman would hit on her? That was pretty sad, especially as she didn’t even want a date. It would just feel nice to know someone thought she’d be worth asking.

  Charlotte refocused on her list. Josephine’s Coffee was Charlotte’s favorite coffee shop because it was full of loud and brash business people and they were all working: having meetings, taking phone calls, tapping away on laptops. She didn’t come here to meet people; she came here to work. She just liked feeling she was in the middle of things, a part of the city’s business district and at the heart of the hive of industry. It also meant she didn’t feel guilty talking on the phone at the coffee shop, because everyone was doing it.

  She dialed the next number on her list. As she started speaking, she pasted a smile on her face, hopeful it’d come through in her voice. She had started her own company last month and so far, she’d failed to drum up enough business to keep afloat. “Hello, I’d like to speak to your CEO or maybe someone in the human resources department. No, I’m not looking for a job. I’m a private investigator and I’m phoning to let you know about my services. Right, yes. Can I send you a brochure? I’ll do that then. Thanks.”

  Charlotte grit her teeth. She was late on her parent’s mortgage payments and two months late on her rent. But she was not going to give up. She’d take a second job if she had to, to make ends meet, but she was going to make this work.

  Her iPhone vibrated against the table. “Nichols Investigations, This Is Charlotte... oh, hi, Mom.”

  “You don’t sound so thrilled to hear from me!”

  “Sorry, Mom, I was just hoping you were a customer.” She instantly regretted giving her mother an opening to talk about the job. She held the phone away from her ear as the lecture started: Charlotte worked too hard and didn’t keep herself up. She should be spending her time finding a nice man. She wasn’t getting any younger! Her mother had worked as a television presenter but quit when she got married, and since then her life revolved around her husband. Charlotte loved her mother but she didn’t want to be her. Her dad taught her she could be anything or do anything but her mom still thought her best prospects were to get married and become a housewife. Finally, though, she seemed to be running out of steam.

  “Mom, did you really just call me to complain about my lack of dates?” A woman at the table looked up from her laptop and grinned at Charlotte in solidarity, which cheered Charlotte immensely.

  “It’s just dinner tonight. Your father’s had a rough night, he couldn’t sleep, which means I’ve not had any sleep either. Can we make it another time?”

  “Sure.” She’d have to pick up some food on the way home. Charlotte frowned. Maybe her mother had a point, seeing as Charlotte’s social life involved her parents more than anyone else. But at least it would give her a chance to write up a report for the one client she currently had.

  Once she got her mother off the phone, she went back to cold-calling. This time, she tried getting the receptionist to help her instead of trying to bluff her way through to the right person. ”I offer private investigation services and I would like to offer my services to your company. Do you know who I should be speaking to? Maybe your CEO would be interested in my services?”

  It was no use. After seventeen polite no-thank-yous and two rude ones, she packed her list away. Her coffee was completely cold now, just a prop so she could keep her table. She would try again tomorrow to see who she could get through to. And if she didn’t get any new work by the end of the week, she’d give up and get a job.

  She wa
s a good investigator—every client she’d had was happy with her work and the results. Even Mr. Mackaw, who shouldn’t be. Mr. Mackaw had hired her to catch his wife “in flagrante” as he put it. It was a job straight out of Hollywood: follow Mrs. Mackaw without getting caught and take photographs of her with her lover, so Mr. Mackaw would have proof. The thing was, Charlotte didn’t think Mrs. Mackaw was having an affair. The woman spent a lot of time out of the house, sure, but she was taking long walks through the park and doing shopping. She just seemed to want out of the house. Certainly, there’d been no sign of another man. And the old Charlotte would have told Mr. Mackaw that and closed the file. But Mr. Mackaw had insisted Mrs. Mackaw was seeing someone secretly and said he would pay by the hour. Charlotte pushed down the niggling feeling she was wasting his time and money. In business, you had to be ruthless, didn’t you? He could call her off if he wanted to but for now, she’d keep doing the job he was paying her to do. Besides, she could be wrong. Charlotte rubbed the raw spot on her wrist where she’d had the tattoo. It was small and not easily noticed: a gothic letter R on her inner wrist, to remind her of her vow to be ruthless. Because that’s what it took to get ahead, she’d decided. The people in this coffee shop didn’t get to where they were by being meek and accepting and giving up. They got there by taking the bull by the horns and doing what needed to be done. And that was what Charlotte was going to do, too.

  The table next to her cleared in a flurry of handshakes. She glanced over to see an abandoned newspaper and picked it up for the headlines. On the cover was a photograph of Jordan Lovett, most eligible bachelor, who had recently taken over as CEO of Lovett Industries when his father retired. He had a half-smile on his face, as if he found it all very amusing. His eyes were dark and brooding, though, full of secrets. Was that his personality or just a good portrait photographer? He was good looking, she thought grudgingly, but sure to be a complete jerk and selfish, just like his father.

  According to the article, the company was planning to go public. “We’re always expanding,” said young Jordan. “This is an opportunity for investors to get in on the ground floor.”

  She dropped the newspaper angrily. Jordan Lovett was the son of her father’s ex-best friend and cheating business partner who had forced Dad out of his own business ten years ago. It broke him: everything her father had worked for all his life was gone. When she was a teenager, she dreamed of confronting Mr. George Lovett, asking why he stole the company from her dad. His name came up a lot, especially when her dad got drunk and melancholy. Once, he’d let slip that he was pretty sure George had illegal inside information but he couldn’t prove it.

  Dad’s partner had been ruthless. That’s what Charlotte needed to be right now, ruthless. She sucked in a deep breath. It wasn’t something which came naturally to her, but that’s what it took to succeed in business.

  She furrowed her brow as a new thought came to her. What if she actually investigated Lovett Industries?

  She tapped her pen against the side of the coffee table, still looking at Jordan Lovett’s photograph. If she could prove his father had broken the law, then maybe she could make the company pay out. They were about to go public, any whiff of a scandal would be a big deal. At the very least, she could stop George Lovett’s upgrade from billionaire to zillionaire. In a perfect world, she could make him lose everything, just like her father had.

  She picked up her phone and then put it down again. It was no good offering her services to them. She needed to get inside access, not just offer her services. What she needed to do...

  A smile crossed her face as the plan began to form. If they were always expanding, they needed staff. She would apply for a job there, any old job, and get on the inside. That would get her enough money to pay the rent but she wouldn’t be giving up. It would just be a temporary thing while she worked on the most important investigation of her life.

  Chapter Two

  Jordan Lovett

  Jordan Lovett answered the phone and then scowled as Lauren’s husky voice said hello. She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Darling, so good to hear your voice. I do miss the feel of your unshaven chin tickling my neck in the mornings. Do you remember?”

  He cut her off. “What do you want?”

  “I want to invite you home for the weekend. In your old room, obv.” She chuckled. “Although I might be able to sneak away and meet you for a quick tryst, if we’re lucky.”

  Jordan felt sick to his stomach. He hated the way she said home, the fact that she’d claimed his home by seducing his father. He’d never before considered violence to be an option but when he heard Lauren’s voice, well, it sure seemed like it might solve some problems. Anything to get away from her.

  “I’m busy.”

  “Your dad will be devastated if you aren’t here. We have a big announcement.”

  His stomach sank. She couldn’t possibly mean... “It’s an engagement party. George has asked me to marry him!” He opened his mouth and then closed it again. What could he say? Congratulations? “Unless you want to make me a better offer,” she purred.

  Jordan slammed the phone down. Lauren would only phone back but there was no way he could have replied without getting nasty. Equally, he couldn’t possibly avoid going home, not if George had summoned him.

  He needed to keep Lauren’s claws out of him somehow. Maybe if he took someone with him. Someone to ensure he didn’t end up alone with Lauren.

  He tapped his fingers on the desk and then gave up on the idea. He couldn’t think of anyone appropriate and quite frankly, he didn’t have time for this. His desk was groaning under the weight of paperwork which needed his personal attention. Usually the bustle of the office soothed him like a piece of well-oiled machinery but today it felt like everything was getting away from him.

  He buried himself into the pile, trying not to think about next weekend. Declaring Lovett Industries a paperless-office had done nothing to slow down the relentless stream of reports and charts and forms created by the various departments, all marked as urgent and requiring his attention. Maybe if he took away all the printers. But no, there was a handwritten note from Marcy Stevens in finance. Removing the printers wouldn’t do anything to slow her down.

  Fact: He needed to go home. His father was already upset Jordan hadn’t gone home for the long weekend last month. Jordan didn’t want to have to deal with Lauren but there was one thing he wanted even less: for George to find out Lauren had been his lover for the six months previous to her changing her target to his father. Lauren wanted one thing: marriage to a rich man who would look after her, so she would never have to lift a finger again. Although she was beautiful and charming when she wanted to be, Jordan quickly became tired of her: he preferred women who took care of themselves rather than fluttering their eyelashes helplessly. But rather than walk away, he continued to date her. It was the path of least resistance. She looked great on his arm and more importantly, slowed down the celebrity magazines that liked to guess about his love life. Then he took her to a family function where she met his father. Newly retired and a widow, George Lovett made for an easy target. He was flattered by the attention of the gorgeous socialite half his age. And now, apparently, they were getting engaged.

  Joyce’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Stop right there!”

  Buddy walked into his office, holding a cigar. Joyce, Jordan’s personal assistant, chased after him. “You can’t just go walking into Mr. Lovett’s office like that!”

  Buddy patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. Jordan’s always happy to see me.” He grinned at Jordan. “What happened to that open-door policy you keep banging on about?”

  “My office is always open.” Joyce had been there for thirty years and was not particularly open to changing her ways but Buddy was right, Jordan wanted the staff to be able to walk right on in. The cigar on the other hand... “My office is non-smoking, as is the rest of this building.”


  “It’s not lit,” said Buddy, tucking it into his shirt pocket. Joyce shot him a poisonous look and stomped out. Buddy Reynolds was part of the old-guard, his father’s right hand man and still the director of operations. He knew the organization like no one else, it had to be said. He was also a relic, stuck in the dark ages. Jordan considered himself lucky every day that went past without a harassment complaint, to be honest. He’d been with the company for fifty years, since the days when it was still Lovett and Jones. He knew everything and everyone. And there was no question that back in the day, greasing the wheels made a big difference. Buddy still took people out for three hour lunches: politicians, city management, even upper management of the competition. And he got information no one else had.

  Speaking of information... “You hear the news?” Jordan watched Buddy for a reaction. “Apparently, George and Lauren are engaged.”

  “Huh. Good for him.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  Buddy shrugged. “If your old man’s happy, I’m happy. I wouldn’t mind a girl like her hanging on my arm.” He eyed Jordan. “You’re upset, aren’t you. Kiddo, it’s nothing to do with you. You need to get her out of your system.” He made a crude in-and-out symbol with his fingers.

  Jordan winced. “Buddy, I don’t need to get laid.”

  “We all do, kiddo, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You shoulda seen the things me and your old man used to get up to. Those were the days.” He wiped his brow. “You, though. I been meaning to talk to you. Thing is, there’s a girl...”