Mistress to the Magnate. Jennifer Lewis

Mistress to the Magnate - Jennifer Lewis


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rimmed in deep amber—as unique and intense as the rest of him.

      He looked as though he expected her to say something. She wasn’t sure what though.

      Dr. Nelson walked around to stand at the opposite side of her bed, his presence a comfort as she felt herself begin to wither under the stranger’s scrutiny. Why did he look at her that way? Almost as though he was angry with her.

      “Does he look familiar to you?” Dr. Nelson asked.

      He was undeniably easy on the eyes, but she couldn’t say that she’d ever seen him before. Melody shook her head. “Should he?”

      The men exchanged a look, and for some reason her heart sank.

      “Melody,” Dr. Nelson said, in a soothing and patient voice. “This Asher Williams. Your fiancé.”

      Melody shook her head, unwilling to accept what the doctor was telling her. She didn’t even know why. It just didn’t feel right. Maybe it was the way he was looking at her, as if her being in an accident had somehow been a slight against him. Shouldn’t he be relieved that she was alive?

      So where were his tears of joy? Why didn’t he gather her up and hold her?

      “No, he isn’t,” she said.

      The doctor frowned, and her so-called fiancé looked taken aback.

      “You remember?” Dr. Nelson asked.

      “No. But I just know. That man can’t be my fiancé.”

      Tension hung like a foul odor in the room. No one seemed to know what to do or say next.

      “Would you excuse us, Doctor?” her imposter fiancé said, and Melody felt a quick and sharp stab of panic. She didn’t want to be alone with him. Something about his presence was just so disconcerting.

      “I’d like him to stay,” she said.

      “Actually, I do have patients I need to see.” He flashed Melody an encouraging smile and gave her arm a gentle pat. “The nurse is just down the hall if you need anything.”

      That wasn’t very reassuring. What did they even know about this man? Did they check out his story at all, or take him on his word? He could be a rapist or an ax murderer. A criminal who preyed on innocent women with amnesia. Or even worse, maybe he was the person she had taken that cash from. Maybe he was here for revenge.

      She tucked her purse closer to her side under the covers, until she was practically sitting on it.

      The phrase never show fear popped into her head, although from where, she didn’t have a clue. But it was smart advice, so she lifted her chin as he grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the side of her bed. He removed his jacket and draped it over the back before he sat down. He wasn’t a big man, more lean than muscular, so why did she feel this nervous energy? This instinct to run?

      He eased the chair closer to her side and she instinctively jerked upright. So much for not showing fear. Even in repose the man had an assuming presence.

      “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said.

      “Do you honestly expect me to just take your word that we’re engaged?” she asked. “You could be. anyone.”

      “Do you have your driver’s license?”

      “Why?”

      He reached into his back pants pocket and she tensed again. “Relax. I’m just grabbing my wallet. Look at the address on my driver’s license.” He handed his wallet to her.

      The first thing she noticed, as she flipped it open, was that there were no photos, nothing of a personal nature, and the second thing was the thick stack of cash tucked inside. And yes, the address on his license was the same as hers. She knew without checking her own license because she had read it over and over about a thousand times yesterday, hoping it would trigger some sort of memory. A visual representation of the place she’d lived.

      Of course, it hadn’t.

      She handed his wallet back to him, and he stuck it in his pocket. “That doesn’t prove anything. If we’re really engaged, where is my ring?” She held up her hand, so he could see her naked finger. A man of his obvious wealth would have bought the woman he planned to marry a huge rock.

      He reached into his shirt pocket and produced a ring box. He snapped it open and inside was a diamond ring with a stone so enormous and sparkly it nearly took her breath away. “One of the prongs came loose and it was at the jeweler’s being repaired.”

      He handed it to her, but she shook her head. She still wasn’t ready to accept this. Although, what man would offer what must have been a ridiculously expensive ring to a woman who wasn’t his fiancée?

      Of course, one quick thwack with the ax and it would easily be his again.

      She cringed and chastised herself for the gruesome thought.

      “Maybe you should hang on to it for now, just to be safe,” she told him.

      “No. I don’t care if you believe me or not.” He rose from his chair and reached for her hand, and it took everything in her not to flinch. “This belongs to you.”

      The ring slid with ease on her finger. A perfect fit. Could it just be a coincidence? It was becoming increasingly difficult not to believe him.

      “I have these, too,” he said, leaning down to take a stack of photos from the inside of his jacket. He gave them to her, then sat back down.

      The pictures were indeed of her and this Asher person. She skimmed them, and in each and every one they were either smiling or laughing or … oh, my … some were rather racy in nature.

      Her cheeks blushed brightly and a grin quirked up the corner of his mouth. “I included a few from our personal collection, so there wouldn’t be any doubt.”

      In one of the shots Asher wore nothing but a pair of boxer briefs and the sight of all that lean muscle and smooth skin caused an unexpected jab of longing that she felt deep inside her belly. A memory, maybe, or just a natural female reaction to the sight of an attractive man.

      “I have video, as well,” he said. She was going to ask what kind of video, but his expression said it all. The look in his eyes was so steamy it nearly melted her. “Due to their scandalous nature, I felt it best to leave them at home,” he added.

      Melody couldn’t imagine she was the type of woman who would let herself be photographed, or even worse videotaped, in a compromising position with a man she didn’t trust completely.

      Maybe Asher Williams really was her fiancé.

      Ash’s first suspicion, when the doctor told him Melody had amnesia, was that she was faking it. But then he asked himself, why would she? What logical reason did she have to pretend that she didn’t know him? Besides, he doubted that anyone in her physical condition could convincingly fabricate the look of bewildered shock she wore when the doctor told her Ash was her fiancé.

      Of course, she had managed to keep the baby she was carrying a secret, and the affair she’d been having. After the initial shock of her betrayal had worn off, he’d felt nothing but seething, bone-deep anger. After all he had done for her—paying her living expenses and college tuition, giving her credit cards to purchase everything her greedy heart had desired, taking care of her for three years—how could she so callously betray him?

      Coincidentally, just like his ex-wife. He hadn’t had a clue then either. One would think he’d have learned his lesson the first time. And though his first instinct had been to walk out the door and never look back, he’d had an even better idea.

      This time he would get revenge.

      He would keep up the ruse of their


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