CHAPTER SEVEN

       Ellie

      THE DAY PROVED to be long and not only due to the driving I had to do in the interminable Parisian traffic.

      It was also due to the presence of the man sitting in the limo behind me.

      I tried very hard to pretend he didn’t exist, but it was difficult when every time I looked in my rear-view mirror, I caught a glimpse of him.

      Sometimes he had his attention on his laptop and sometimes he was looking out of the window as he talked on his phone. And then there were also times I found his gaze on mine, a burning look in it, as if he were waiting impatiently for some kind of response from me.

      Except I didn’t know what response he wanted.

      I’d lied when I’d told him I’d slept perfectly well. I hadn’t. I’d spent all night going over what had happened in the limo and why I’d stupidly burst into emotional tears afterwards like a silly virgin.

      Had it been the way he’d stroked me at the end? Or had it been due to the sheer power of the physical release? Either way, I’d hated it and I definitely didn’t want it to happen again.

      Pleasure I could handle, but a big no to all that emotional bullshit. It only reminded me of how I’d felt after the Mark incident and how pissed off Dad had been at me at the way I’d handled it. Sure, kneeing Mark in the balls had been an instinctive reaction, but that had caused a whole lot of extra drama that had ended up with him making all sorts of extortionate demands.

      No fuss, that was key, and yet here I was, making a fuss about the sex by crying, not to mention giving Mr Evans a piece of my mind for being rude to me.

      I didn’t know what was happening, especially considering I still needed to ask him about Australis and our debt.

      Finding the right moment to broach the topic proved difficult, however.

      When he wasn’t in a meeting, he was on his phone, and it wasn’t until I’d picked him up from his last appointment and was taking him to the airport that he finally put the phone away, directing his attention to the laptop.

      Ideally I would have liked to pull the car over, but he was pressed for time since the meeting had dragged on, and the traffic to Charles de Gaulle was a nightmare, so there was no time to stop.

      I was just going to have to ask flat out.

      Trying to ignore the fact that I’d complicated matters first by having sex with him and then letting my anger get the better of me and calling him out for being rude, I swallowed my nerves and checked him in the rear-view mirror.

      He had his attention on his laptop, his face set in lines of fierce concentration.

      Bloody hell, this wasn’t a good time, either. But what else could I do? He’d be flying out in a couple of hours and then my opportunity would be gone completely.

      It was now or never.

      ‘Can I ask you something, Mr Evans?’ I asked, straight out.

      He didn’t look up. ‘What did I say about small talk?’

      ‘It’s not small talk.’

      ‘Bill doesn’t talk at all.’

      Well, this was off to a great start. Go me.

      I gripped the wheel tightly, trying to hang on to my determination to keep this low-key and not a big deal. ‘I’m not Bill.’

      ‘No,’ he said flatly, his attention still on the screen. ‘You’re not.’

      Okay, well, I was just going to have to go for it. I didn’t want to let Dad down, not again.

      ‘I need a favour,’ I said, throwing caution to the winds. ‘I need to talk to you about an investment.’

      That caught his attention.

      His head lifted, electric gaze coming straight to mine. ‘What?’

      Time for my spiel.

      ‘So, my family makes supercars, all built by hand in our workshop in Sydney, and we were lucky enough to get a cash injection from your venture capital firm a few years ago. But, business hasn’t been great and we’re not able to make the returns that were expected.’ Shit, I was talking too fast; I needed to slow down. ‘So, we tried contacting Evans Investment to give us some more time before the investment was withdrawn, but they weren’t very receptive. I thought that if I spoke to you directly—’

      ‘That I would automatically be fine with potentially losing my investment?’ he interrupted, his voice sharp, hard, the look in his eyes cutting me to shreds. ‘Is that why you had sex with me?’

      A cold shock pulsed down my spine.

      Did he really think that?

      But there was no mistaking the icy blue light glittering in his eyes. Not just annoyance or irritation, but genuine anger.

      Yes, he really did think that.

      We’d come to a red light so I was able to give him my full attention. ‘No,’ I said fiercely, forgetting all about the need to keep things light and no drama. ‘I had sex with you because I wanted to. Not for any other reason.’