Page 95 of Peyton's Price

The Englishman laughed. “How charmingly transparent of you, Ms. Carson. But you and I both know you are not getting out of this room alive. Not even to retrieve a copy of the report, which, by my estimate, has only a fifty-percent chance of existing.”

“It exists,” Peyton said, infusing her voice with as much bravado as she could. “And I will be getting out of this room alive and well.”

More laughter. “Well, you do have—what do you American’s call it? Moxy?”

“Balls. I have balls,” Peyton corrected, trying and failing to ignore the pounding of her head. “And I may not know your name, but I have a good idea of your motivation for helping those traffickers. In fact, I suspect Belarus is just one in an extensive list of crimes you’re responsible for.”

“Do tell…”

She sighed.This guy is the lamest Bond villain ever. “It’s obvious. You did it for the money.”

“It’s hardly an original incentive, I will admit, but Interpol couldn’t secure me the kind of retirement I had in mind. I had to get creative. It’s only fair. They’ve profited from my connections for decades.”

“Then I have good news. Now you get to profit from mine,” she said.

The man’s lips compressed.

“She means Raske and Tyler.”

Irritation flashed across the Englishman’s face. “Iknowthat.”

“Both men are quite wealthy,” she elaborated needlessly.

“And you think those two faggots will cough up any cash for you?” Travis sneered.

Peyton’s nostrils flared. This piece of shit wasn’t worthy of wiping Matthias or Liam’s shoes, but she swallowed her fury. Her priority had to be getting out of this in one piece. Then she’d pour gasoline on this fucker and light him on fire.

“I do,” she said as evenly as she could.

“I realize Raske paid a high sum for you before—”

“At Liam Tyler’s behest. I’m important to him. Always have been,” she interrupted, trying her damnedest to sound calm. “Since then, I’ve also become significant to Matthias. But I am nowhere as important to either asheis…”

Peyton looked down, gesturing to her flat belly with a significant nod that made her head surge with renewed pain.

Travis wrinkled his nose. “You’re knocked up?”

“Yes,” she lied. “It’s in the early stages, obviously. But a doctor has confirmed it.”

Hadn’t those traffickers suggested she would be used as a breeder? Was that why the idea to lie about a pregnancy had popped into her head?

“Pregnant with a billionaire’s baby…” the Englishman said, templing his hands under his chin.

“It could be Tyler’s kid. He’s not a billionaire. Not if he has to split his wealth with the brother and sister,” Travis said.

“He’s pretty damn close,” Peyton snapped, wishing her hands were free so she could slap the sneer off Travis’ face. She turned to the Englishman, mentally blocking the other man’s presence. “Neither man cares who the biological father is. Both are thrilled—we’re going to name him after Matthias’ grandfather.”

The lies had never flowed so freely. But then her life had never been at stake.

The Englishman tipped his head back to Travis. “We have to consider this.”

“No, we don’t. She could be lying about this, too.”

The Englishman looked her squarely in the eye as if trying to read the truth there. “It doesn’t matter. She’s right. Pregnant or not, she’s worth millions.”

Peyton bit back her sigh of relief. He stood. “Keep an eye on her. I have to make a few calls.”

Travis grunted as the man left the room, swinging back to stare at her with hostile eyes. Suddenly, he smirked. “Even if I were a fag, I’d fuck you, too. You are that hot.”

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