Their Seductress [The Hot Millionaires #1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Zara Chase Page A

her account of her suppressed childhood—and downright determination not to be bullied. The way she’d stood up to him when she arrived, jet-lagged and grieving, only to be confronted with his unfounded accusations and blistering dislike, was something else. Isaac’s temper was one of his failings, and not many people could face him down when he got annoyed about something. But Paige gave as good as she got and didn’t appear to give a shit for the consequences.
    Isaac soaped his body as the hot jets of water pounded it. He was aware now why he’d been attracted to Paige that first time he saw her. Aloof and untouchable, she sat at the bar in an upmarket restaurant in London’s west end, waiting for him and Doug to join her, fending off the men who hovered round her with one arrogant lift of a beautifully plucked brow. Isaac’s first sight of her blew his mind, and he was hard-pressed not to show his jealousy, ever harder pressed to hide his embarrassment when his brother showed her off as though she was a trophy to be lusted after but never touched. That ought to have told him something about Doug’s deep-seated resentments. Why hadn’t that occurred to him before?
    “You don’t know how well you succeeded, little brother,” Isaac said aloud.
    It was true. Deny it he might, but Isaac had found every woman he’d been with since then wanting in some way. None of them measured up to his image of Paige, and they seldom lasted two consecutive dates. He’d tried to convince himself that he’d made her into something that she wasn’t and could never be.
    He knew now just how wrong he’d been.
    Isaac dried himself off and pulled on a pair of chinos and a clean shirt. He wanted to get downstairs before Paige and hear whatever it was Weir had to say to her. She was the only one who hadn’t yet been interviewed by the police. Paige probably thought she could handle it and didn’t need his help. That was probably true, but she’d get it anyway. She was fragile, in a foreign country where she didn’t understand the laws and needed protecting.
    When he entered the formal sitting room, Isaac was surprised to see just Lieutenant Weir and Nick there, both with open bottles of beer in their hands. In Isaac’s experience, policemen always hunted in pairs and didn’t drink while on duty.
    “Oh, Mr. Drake.” Weir offered his hand, and the two men shook. “Glad to have caught you.”
    “No problem.” Isaac took the chair opposite the lieutenant and accepted the beer Nick handed him with a nod of thanks. “Any progress?”
    “Nice house,” the lieutenant remarked, adroitly avoiding the question.
    Isaac didn’t repeat it, contenting himself with joining in the small talk that Nick was so adept at instigating. It was obvious that whatever the lieutenant actually wanted, it wouldn’t be broached until Paige joined them.
    That happened just five minutes later. Her hair was damp and she’d changed into a fairly formal dress and almost-flat shoes. Even with no makeup she still exuded sex appeal by the bucket load. The lieutenant glanced at her, did a double take, and almost knocked his chair over in his haste to stand up.
    “Ms. Fairfax, I assume,” he said, once again extending his hand. “My name’s Weir.”
    “Lieutenant,” she said, taking his hand and as quickly dropping it again. “Any news on Ellie’s murder?”
    “Nothing definite. As the saying goes, we’re pursuing several lines of inquiry.”
    “In other words, you’ve got squat,” Isaac said, irritated by the lieutenant’s procrastination and the way his eyes kept returning to Paige’s tits. “So what brings you to our door?”
    “I gather you now know the contents of Ms. Carter’s will.” All three of them nodded. “Wondered if you’d care to cast any light on that.”
    “There’s no light to cast,” Paige said. “We were all totally astounded. We have no idea why she favored the three of us.”
    “You were in London when Ms. Carter