Wicked Nights With a Lover by Sophie Jordan Read Free Book Online Page B

shocked Ash to learn that Jack had fathered offspring. He only felt shock over the fact that he was suddenly interested in claiming his progeny—that they suddenly possessed value in his eyes.
    Jack was no sentimentalist. He did nothing without benefit to himself. For no other reason had he made Ash his partner. He saw the advantage in it. Claiming his illegitimate offspring had to provide him with something. Ash knew Jack well enough to know that he cared for no one more than himself.
    The sounds from his gaming hell floated from below stairs. The buzz of conversation, laughter, the occasional shout from a victor, all acted as a balm to his nerves. Even though he owned a grand townhouse in the City, he stayed at Hellfire, craving the sounds, the smells. His townhouse sat a lonely shell across the river, shrouded in silence. Only solitude and thoughts best left alone awaited him there.
    His attention drifted back to Mary. She was talking, he realized. “They’re all supposed to be under his roof together. Grier arrived over a week ago. A nice-enough girl, if not a bit outspoken. Another arrived just yesterday and another is supposed to show up this afternoon. Only that one’s not staying as the other two are … that’s why he’s throwing together a little soiree tonight. He’s hoping to convince the new one to stay for the grand event.”
    Three? The randy old goat had fathered three daughters?
    “That a fact?” Ash dragged a hand though his too-long hair, watching Mary rise and begin to dress, his mind churning over the implications of what this development could mean for him. His partner suddenly had heirs. Three, to be exact.
    “Reminds me that I need to get back,” Mary muttered. “There’s much to do. He wants everything spotless. He expects at least a dozen to attend …”
    “A dozen … who?”
    She shrugged. “Some fine gents, I hear. Real bluebloods.”
    The hairs on Ash’s neck began to stand as he watched her shimmy into her gown. “What scheme has he concocted?”
    “He ain’t saying, but Grier can’t keep her tongue behind her teeth.”
    “And what has this Grier said?”
    Mary looked over her shoulder as if she expected the great Jack Hadley to materialize behind her. He was that way. Larger than life, an intimidating figure to many.
    “Well … she thinks he’s got it in his head to marry them off to some bluebloods. All three of them. Any swell will do, so long as his blunt has run dry and he’s desperate enough to marry a bastard daughter of Jack Hadley.”
    “Bloody hell.” He shook his head. “Why would any swell want to—”
    Mary waved a hand about her fiercely. “For this, of course. All of it. The mine, the factory …”
    Cold washed through Ash’s veins. Of course. For everything he had worked so hard for.
    It all came together then. He understood why Jack suddenly wished to claim the daughters he’d seen fit to forget. He wanted what they could bring him. Prestige. A door to the glittering world of the ton. The sneering aristocrats would have to welcome him into their drawing rooms if his daughters married men among their ranks. His hand curled into a fist at his side.
    Mary must have seen something in his face. An uneasy look drifted across her features. She drew out his name on a heavy breath. “Ash.”
    “I’ve made this this,” he said tightly, motioning to his elegant suite. “The hells were nothing before me. And the mine? The factory? It was my idea to invest—”
    “I know, I know,” Mary soothed.
    “He means to hand over what is rightfully mine to some lily-handed prigs who suck up the nerve to marry his bastards?”
    “Well, they are his heirs, Ash,” Mary pointed out. “And their future husbands have a right—”
    “Just because Jack shagged these chits’ mothers doesn’t give their future husbands the right to claim all I’ve worked for! All I have built!” His chest lifted on a deep breath.
    “What can you do about it? You’re partners.