Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [79]
“Michael!” Brenna said, stunned. She took an instinctive step backward, as panic urged her to flee.
“Don't even think about it,” Donovan said, his voice hard as steel. “I'd catch you before you reached the stage door.” His blue eyes were cold and razor sharp. “You're going to come in, and we are going to have a few words before we go on to my apartment. Do you understand?”
Brenna shook her head sadly, as the shock of his appearance dissipated. “No, Michael, I'm not coming back to you,” she said quietly.
“You will,” he said arrogantly. “I don't know what this is all about, but I intend to get to the bottom of it.”
Brenna came a few steps into the room, her brown eyes pleading. “All the discussion in the world won't change my mind. Let me go, Michael.”
A muscle twisted in Michael's jaw. “The hell I will.” Brenna sighed tiredly. After all the pain and agony of leaving him, she would have to do it all again. “Where is Charles?” she asked despondently. “Did he call you?”
Donovan shook his head. “I called him about thirty minutes after you did. When I discovered you were gone, I knew you'd run to either him or Vivian Barlow. I told him we'd had a little marital spat, and that I'd meet you in his place.” His mouth twisted cynically. “He was delighted to oblige. Charles loves a happy ending.”
“I'm sorry you've gone to such trouble,” she said, not looking at him. “I'm afraid it was a waste of your time. Good-bye, Michael.” She turned to go, but he was around the desk in seconds and grasping her arm in a clasp of steel.
“No way, Brenna,” he said silkily. “You're coming with me, and we're going to talk. Because if you walk out of my life, you're going to do it alone. You're not taking Randy with you.”
Her eyes flew to him incredulously. “What are you talking about? Randy's mine!”
“Possession is nine tenths of the law,” he quoted ruthlessly. “And I have possession. He's on board the Lear jet right now en-route to Twin Pines with Doris Charles. Monty picked him up from Vivian's apartment five minutes after your taxi pulled away from the curb.”
Brenna shook her head dazedly. “No,” she said desperately. “You're lying. Vivian wouldn't give Randy to a stranger.”
“You've forgotten how persuasive Monty can be,” he said coolly. “And after all, he was your husband's representative.” He reached behind him, and lifting the phone receiver punched a number rapidly. “Speak to her yourself,” he said mockingly, offering her the receiver. Two minutes later Brenna handed the receiver back to him, her face white. “It's virtually kidnapping, you know,” she said numbly. “You're as bad as Paul Chadeaux.”
His face was rigid with anger, and the blue eyes flickered dangerously. “I'll let that pass for now,” he said coldly. “But don't push your luck, Brenna. I'm not feeling particularly tame at the moment.”
Neither was she. The shock and numbness was melting rapidly under mounting rage and indignation. How dare even Donovan pull something this arrogant and cruel?
“So what's the next move, Michael?” she said bitterly, her brown eyes flashing angrily. “What ransom are you asking to give me back my son?”
“At the moment, only that you accompany me to my apartment,” he said. “As I said, we have some talking to do.” He gestured to the door. “Shall we go?”
The taxi ride to the high-rise apartment complex was made in complete silence. Brenna's anger rose steadily as she had time to dwell on the sheer audacity of Donovan's move. It was not enough that he had all but wrecked her life and the chance of happiness with any other man, but he had to take from her the only other person she loved as well. By the time they had ridden the elevator up to the penthouse apartment, and Donovan had unlocked the door, she was almost fuming.
She swept angrily into the apartment and stomped down the thickly carpeted stairs to the sunken living room. She threw her purse on the rust modular couch, and looked around distastefully, noting the air of lush affluence. Cream carpet, expensive contemporary furnishings,