Bound As His Business-Deal Bride (Mills & Boon Modern) Page 7

  ‘Good morning.’ Eve strolled into the room, head high, a picture of confidence misplaced. She wandered over to the sideboard where a continental breakfast had been laid out, grabbed a large, white bread roll and poured herself a coffee.

  Black. One sugar. He’d never forgotten.

  She sat to the side of him. This morning she was dressed in elegant, slim-fitting black trousers and a crisp, white shirt, with her hair pulled back into a messy bun. She looked cool, businesslike, ready to do battle. Nothing like the pampered trust-fund princess he knew her to be. Her engagement ring glittered under the lights each time she moved her hand. Something hot, potent and possessive slid through him at the sight of it there.

  Mine.

  Absurd. Seven years ago he might have been desperate to see his ring on her finger. Not now.

  ‘You don’t have to wear it.’ He nodded at the bright jewel. ‘Not here, in the house.’

  It did something to his equilibrium. Better she have it on only when necessary, which would be almost never, given that it was only for show.

  She looked down at the twinkling gemstones. Splayed her fingers a little. Turned her hand so they caught the light. ‘It feels safer here. I’d be scared to leave it somewhere, like the bedside drawer.’

  Warmth kindled low in his gut. It felt good to watch her admiring it. When he’d seen it on a tray of jewels presented for his selection, it had immediately caught his eye and he’d only thought of her.

  Yes. Mine.

  That damned insistent voice. He ignored it. She wasn’t his. She never had been and never would be. He wouldn’t be fooled again, by anyone. He wasn’t that young man anymore, full of hope for the future, desperately in love and made stupid by it. He’d never allow himself to be that man again and wouldn’t waste more thought on what might have been.

  ‘How was your swim yesterday?’ he asked.

  She took a sip of her dark coffee. Closed her eyes for a brief second in pleasure. Her lip gloss left a perfect pink stencil on the white porcelain and he wondered whether, if he kissed her, she’d taste like strawberries.

  ‘Invigorating. How did you sleep last night?’

  His blood rushed south as those dark, erotic dreams flickered in the back reaches of his consciousness. Not well at all. He’d ached for her the whole night. Lying naked in bed as he always did. The sheets torture against his overly sensitive skin. He’d never let her know.

  ‘Perfectly. And you?’

  ‘To be honest, I had a little difficulty. Until I...took things in hand. If you’re ever having trouble sleeping, you should try it too.’

  His mouth dried. Visions of her lying naked. Thinking of him. Touching herself and... He shut the heated thoughts down. Poured cold water on them. ‘Try what?’

  His voice sounded too rough and raw. He took another mouthful of coffee.

  ‘Warm milk and honey, with a shot of bourbon.’ Her lips turned up in a sneaky smile. ‘Always works for me.’

  She was playing him like a finely tuned instrument. No more. His desire for her was something he would control. He’d done it in the past. Having her here with him was the ultimate test and he’d win, get his deal done and move on. But how would it feel to turn the tables on her for once? Make her crave him like some addiction. Perhaps he could give her a small taste. He’d have her panting and begging and wanting him. He was older now. Wiser. More experienced than he’d been as a callow youth in his twenties. He knew how to push her buttons and push them he would, with immense satisfaction.

  But that could come later. Pleasure would wait for now. He didn’t want anything she didn’t want to give. That was the triumph for him. Her desire. Her capitulation. Her needing him. It made the anticipation of what might come all the sweeter.

  He finished his coffee, moved his breakfast plate aside. There were more important things at hand, for now at least. He was sure she wouldn’t like what he had to say.

  ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘Ooh. Sounds serious.’ Eve gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘I suppose it’s about business again. Remember what I said about you becoming dull.’

  He opened his tablet and clicked on a file full of spreadsheets. ‘About the French arm of Knight. I can email you—’

  ‘I have all I need here.’ She reached down, grabbed a tablet of her own and placed it on the table. ‘But for this discussion I need some fortification.’

  She buttered a fluffy white roll then slathered it in strawberry jam. Bit into it and slowly ate her mouthful while she swiped her finger over her screen, pulling up some documents as well. ‘Go ahead.’

  Her dismissiveness niggled at him like a stone in his shoe. He tried to ignore it. She was baiting him, and he wouldn’t fall into that trap, not now.

  ‘It’s not doing as badly as the US business but there are a few areas of concern.’

  Eve glared at him. ‘We’re doing far better than that and holding our own. Turning a profit.’

  ‘You could do more.’ He looked at the financials he had before him. He might have been more aggressive in his approach to some acquisitions, but the decisions that had been made had been sound, if not on the conservative side. ‘The vineyard goes.’

  She stared at him for a moment and he waited for the argument to come. Instead, she nodded. ‘Fine. Next?’

  That was too easy, and Gage was deeply suspicious of anything that came too easily to him. He expected more of a fight from her, on all things. ‘You don’t want to ask me why?’

  A smirk played at the corners of her mouth. ‘Why, sugar, you’re my fiancé. I want to keep you happy. You should be pleased.’

  He loathed it when she called him sugar. Gage narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you treating any of this seriously?’

  She narrowed her eyes right back at him. ‘Deathly.’

  ‘Then prove it.’

  ‘You hold my life and my business in your hands and can do what you want.’ Eve fiddled with the engagement ring on her finger. ‘Will anything I say make a difference?’

  ‘It might. I’m not an ogre.’

  ‘I’ll hold you to that the next time you behave like one.’ She took another bite of her roll. Chewed deliberately. Washed it down with more coffee. ‘The reasons for selling the vineyard are twofold. First is that it was my father’s folly. You talked about vanity projects. This was one. Second, I’m betting Greta Bonitz wants a vineyard and that you want to sell Knight’s to her.’

  Gage sat back in his chair. What she thought about her father surprised him, because that’s exactly what the vineyard was. As for the rest... ‘Why do you think Greta Bonitz wants a vineyard?’

  That little kernel of information shouldn’t have been widely known. He had it because he’d been discussing it with Frau Bonitz before she’d turned cold on him.

  ‘When you told me you were keen on doing business with her, I started researching. In an article a year ago she talked about honeymooning with her husband in Provence when they were young. Stomping the grapes at a winery. How it was such a fond memory. It got me thinking.’ Eve finished off her breakfast. Drained her coffee.

  ‘About?’

  ‘How, given her husband’s recent passing, she might want to hang onto those memories a little harder. Since she can’t have him to share them with, maybe a vineyard in Provence might do.’ Her voice was quiet and she stared out the French doors of the dining room to the view beyond. Still twisting the engagement ring like it irritated her.

  As the silence stretched, he began to feel like there were things unspoken, subtext he couldn’t translate. Eve got up from the table, walked to the coffee pot. Her long, lithe legs being encased in conservative black trousers in a strange way made her all the more tempting. A narrow waist he’d once loved to span with his hands. His pulse kicked up a notch. She turned and waggled her cup at him. He’d already had two cups this morning, which was pro
bably the reason his heart rate was being unruly. Not the thoughts of how she felt in his arms, how he might try to get her back there. He shook his head as she poured another for herself.

  ‘So, am I right?’ she asked as she came back to the table with a full cup.

  ‘Surprisingly, you are.’

  She straightened in her chair, put down her cup and planted her hands flat on the table. ‘There’s no surprise about it at all. Do you have any idea what it was like, being a woman in her early twenties and given the responsibility of running a company without training?’

  ‘You seem to have forgotten my involvement in Caron after college.’

  ‘You had your father, who no doubt supported you. I had nothing. I might have topped my business degree at the Sorbonne, but I’d been thrown the French company as a punishment. Sent to a place I couldn’t do much damage with every expectation I’d fail and be put in my place. I’ve had to work harder and be more prepared than anyone to get the board to listen to me. Even then it was a battle. Every day.’

  Her breathing was hard, the colour high on her cheeks. A fight in her eyes, which were as hard and cold as blue diamonds. No society princess anywhere to be seen, and not the soft, sweet girl he’d known either. She was enthralling like this. He wanted to unpick all the complicated knots in her and see her unravel.

  ‘I was never going to fail, and I didn’t. So, Gage, what else have you got to throw at me? Because I’m ready for it.’

  Her voice was as sharp as a prick of guilt. He looked at the long and mundane list on the computer of things that needed to change and back at her.

  She ran her finger over a glob of jam on her plate, scooping it up and bringing it to her lips. His mouth dried. Memories assailed him of years ago. Of Eve on her knees in front of him. The biting pleasure even though neither of them had really known what they were doing. Well, he knew exactly what he was doing now. He’d have her on her knees soon enough. Perhaps he already did. That warm slide of pleasure through his veins was satisfaction. Nothing more.

  ‘Here. The flower farm.’

  She’d always loved growing things. Hanging around with the gardener, who’d indulged her. When they’d talked of the houses they’d own, her criteria had always been one surrounded by gardens, where the climate was right so she could grow roses. He’d planned to buy her fields of them when he could afford it. Instead she’d bought her own.

  She stiffened. ‘No. It’s mine. Purchased with my own money.’

  ‘Spent your trust fund, cher?’

  ‘I could spend it in any way I saw fit and I did. On something just for me for once.’

  As if he hadn’t been enough, but history had shown him he hadn’t been. It galled him that this was the symbol of her treachery. Well, she’d spent her money on what she’d wanted and now she’d have to deal with the consequences.

  ‘It’s not quite yours. There’s a not so small matter of the loan Knight gave to support the purchase because you didn’t have enough yourself. It’s a liability the company doesn’t need. Debts can be called in and this one should be because, like your father, you have a vanity project.’

  ‘If you cared to ask, the farm is a business that’s holding its own. You know it’s making repayments to Knight on time, with interest. There’s no vanity here. But this has nothing to do with how well it’s doing or not.’ Her hands clenched into tight fists on the tablecloth. Her lips a thin, taut line. Pale blue eyes burning like a gas flame. There was something enticing about her anger. He wanted to take it and channel it. Let it explode and consume them.

  But he wouldn’t fall into the trap that was Eve Chevalier.

  Instead, he crossed his arms and settled back for the fight to come, the fight he’d been waiting for. ‘What’s it to do with, then?’

  She stood and began pacing the room. Bristling with a tight and furious kind of energy. Her accent broadened then. Nothing like the smooth tones she’d obviously cultivated, those of a stateless world traveller. Hers was now a curious mix of Southern belle and French ingénue. The exotic sound of it raked down his spine as surely as her neat fingernails would.

  ‘Revenge. Been there. Done that. Won’t do it again. You don’t care how well the business is performing, you only care that it’s important to me so you can punish me with it, which is petty.’ She wheeled round and stopped, her eyes shining brightly as if there were tears there. Was she going to cry over this? Something sharp and painful stabbed in his chest. He rubbed at the spot. ‘If there’s anyone in this room like my father, it’s you.’

  ‘I’m nothing like your damned father.’ He would not be compared to that man, ever. In response, she gave a sharp, bitter laugh.

  ‘You’ve decided that because this place is mine, you’re going to take it away. So tell me, how aren’t you like my father? What is this, if not spite? Because, sugar, it sure isn’t about business, since you know nothing about mine.’

  He gritted his teeth, wanted to stand, face her and shout to the room that he was better than Hugo Chevalier. He’d proved it, in every way. Especially now, by winning. Except... Eve looked upset. The colour was high on her cheeks. Breathing hard. The tightness round her eyes that still sparkled too brightly. He didn’t make a habit of upsetting women. He’d been taught better by both parents.

  But more than that, if he broke through the anger, the emotion, there were things Eve said that didn’t add up. Because she’d been given everything by her family. Money, security, running the French business. If there had been the expectation she wouldn’t succeed, it had still been an opportunity some would almost kill for. Even then, she felt she’d lost...

  ‘What did your daddy take away from you, Eve?’

  Something flashed across her face as if she was stricken, and then melted away so fast he might have been mistaken. She walked to the French doors overlooking the flower fields and pulled the gauzy curtains aside as she stared at the view.

  ‘That’s not important anymore. This place is.’ She worried at her lower lip with her teeth. ‘I want to stop dwelling on the past and look forward. So, are you going to call in the debt? If so, I need time to re-finance.’

  He heard the message loud and clear. He was the past, and that’s the box she’d locked him into, but today there was still a niggle of something he couldn’t put his finger on. Something he’d missed. Since Eve, he’d honed his observational abilities because he wasn’t going to be blindsided by anything ever again. He’d get to the bottom of this, sooner rather than later.

  ‘What if I was the bank? How would you sell it to me?’ He didn’t know why he was asking these things. Maybe he could indulge her, maybe he was going soft, maybe if the business stacked up...

  ‘What did you say?’

  She turned around slowly, like she didn’t believe he could be reasonable and was waiting for the trick in his words. He didn’t like that at all and didn’t know why it mattered to him so much.

  ‘Talk to me about your flowers.’

  Even if this was the smallest of chances, she’d take it. She’d spent most of the night working on a proposal that she’d outlined in the car on the way from the airport the minute Gage had told her they were coming here. This was her one shot at saving what she’d fought so hard for. She strode to the table and turned her tablet to him. ‘It’s in here. Prove to me this is just business.’

  He took the device and read. What she’d prepared was rougher than she’d like. There’d been little time to perfect it and too many emotions roiling around for it all to be cold, hard numbers and facts, but it would have to do. And still she had more, a snippet of information that she hoped would show Gage the possibilities. Excite him as much as it excited her.

  He worked through what she’d done, scrolling through the document, his expression giving nothing away. She became transfixed by his hands. The way the veins stood out as an elegant cording under his skin. T
he strength she knew they held, cradling the device like it was something precious. His perfect fingers with their blunt, square nails shifting, moving back, forward. Sliding over her screen in the same gentle way he’d used to stroke her skin. Stopping...

  He’d stopped. She swallowed down the knot tightening in her throat and sat at the table as Gage looked up. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if assessing her. The business was sound, the farmhouse rented most of the time, it was paying its way and its bills. These were things she knew a man like Gage would be looking for. Yet she couldn’t get a read on his thoughts when he looked at her like he was trying to peer inside her.

  ‘When did you prepare this?’

  ‘Last night. I told you I couldn’t sleep.’

  Everything stopped at that moment. Even the birds outside seemed to have fallen silent, the breeze dropped. Like the world was holding its breath for her.

  ‘Well done.’

  The warmth of that small praise flooded over her, like the first brush of morning sun on her skin. No one had ever thanked her for her efforts or the job she did. Too many wanted to tear her down, whispering about how she’d been handed her position by her daddy, rather than earning it. No one knew the price she’d paid to be here, what she’d lost in the process. How much harder she’d had to work than anyone around her.

  ‘But,’ he went on, and she stilled. Her heart rate spiked. There was always a caveat, a ‘but’, a sting in every tail. ‘There’s more, isn’t there? What aren’t you telling me?’

  Of all the things she’d read about Gage, there was one thing she should never have forgotten, that part of his skill in business was due to his freakish instinct. His ability to mine the secrets no one else could. He was right about there being more, but she could never let him have all of her secrets. She’d held them too close, for too long, until they’d become part of her. The burden she always carried.

  ‘Why do you think there’s more?’