Untamed Billionaires: Marriage: For Business or Pleasure? / Getting Red-Hot with the Rogue / One Night with the Rebel Billionaire. Элли Блейк
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The thought of stepping inside the Jungle Safari room with Nick acting as tour guide brought a scorching blush to her cheeks and she pressed her hands against them, desperately trying to cool them before he opened the door and caught her on the back foot again.
The door swung open and she immediately squared her shoulders, ready for battle.
She’d left home at eighteen, travelled to the other side of the world, lived in a strange city and made a success of her life without using a penny of her father’s money.
Making this deal happen with Nick should be a walk in Hyde Park, regardless of the games he seemed determined to play.
‘Right on time.’
He stepped aside and gestured her into the room, a huge suite converted into an office, complete with monstrous mahogany desk, leather director’s chair and a matching black leather lounge suite designed to make whoever set foot in the giant room at home.
She ignored the comfy-looking sofa and settled for the solitary chair opposite his desk, her back ramrod straight. She wasn’t here to get cosy and comfortable, she was here to seal this deal.
Clasping her hands in her lap, she fixed him with a businesslike stare.
‘Let’s get down to it, shall we? You know what I want. You’ve had time to study the figures in my presentation. What’s your answer?’
To her chagrin he grinned, a wide, self-assured grin of a fat cat toying with a baby mouse.
‘It’s killing you, isn’t it?’
In an instant she knew what he was referring to. He used to tease her about being a nosy busybody all the time, so he’d know how much his bombshell was burning her up with curiosity.
As if she’d give him the satisfaction of knowing it.
Keeping her expression carefully blank, she shrugged. ‘You’re not the only one who’s changed. What you’ve done in the last ten years, why you chose not to tell me the truth out at the farm, that’s your business.’
She leaned forward, tapped her presentation folder sitting in prime position in the middle of his desk.
‘And this is mine, so let’s cut to the chase. Are you willing to make this deal or not?’
‘That depends on you.’
He sat, leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head, stretching the fine cotton of his business shirt tight against his chest, drawing her attention, tempting her to stare, to linger, to envision what he looked like without it.
Not that she had to try too hard. She’d had an up close and personal look earlier that day and a glimpse of that entire bronze, hard chest was burned into her memory bank no matter how many times she hit the mental delete button.
She shook her head to clear it. ‘Of course I want this deal to happen. It’s why I’m here.’
The only reason I’m here, hung unsaid between them as she matched his steady stare, not blinking, not moving a muscle.
To her surprise he broke the deadlock first by reaching for the folder and pushing it towards her with one finger.
‘I’m not interested in your money.’
That got her attention.
‘Pardon?’
He tapped the folder. ‘What your company’s offering in here, the remuneration for use of the farm. I’m not interested.’
Her hopes sank faster than her first attempt at rowing on the Thames as she struggled to come up with a new twist on her pitch, something, anything, to convince him to agree to this deal.
‘But I do have something else in mind.’
She didn’t like the hint of subterfuge in his smoother-than-caramel tone, the gleam of devilry in his toffee eyes.
‘Like what?’
He pushed away from the desk, came around and squatted down next to her, way too close, way too overpowering, way too much.
‘I’ll agree to your precious deal if you agree to mine.’
His silky smooth tone sent a shiver of dread creeping across the nape of her neck, for she had no doubt whatever demands he made she’d be forced to agree.
Hanging onto her cool by a thread, she tossed her hair over her right shoulder and fixed him with her best intimidating glare.
‘Go on, then. State your terms.’
Placing a finger under her chin, he tipped it up, his slight touch sending unexpected heat spiralling through her and slashing a serious hole in her concentration.
‘It’s quite simple. I hold onto the farm for now, give you complete access for however long you need it, on one condition.’
She leaned forward, drawn towards him against her will, his finger less of a guide than her own stupid attraction when it came to this man.
‘Spit it out.’
With his lips a hair’s breadth from hers, he murmured, ‘You become my wife.’
With their lips so close, so tantalisingly close, and the ever-present heat shimmering between them like an invisible thread binding them despite time apart, it took a few seconds for his words to penetrate.
When they did, she jerked back, shock rendering her speechless.
Her mouth opened, closed, as her mind spun with confusion. She could’ve sworn he’d just proposed…
‘You heard me.’
He straightened, and while half of her wanted to clobber him for the ludicrous statement he’d just made, the other half irrationally missed his proximity.
He perched on the desk, towering over her.
‘Marry me. That’s my condition.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’
She leaped to her feet, stood toe to toe with him. ‘What sort of stupid condition is that? Like I’d ever marry you, like I’d agree to—’
‘The idea didn’t seem so distasteful ten years ago. As I recall, you used to love talking about marrying me.’
Heat flooded her cheeks and she clenched her hands to stop from reaching out and strangling him.
‘Come off it, I was young and stupid then.’
‘So you’re old and wise now?’
His mouth twitched and the itch to strangle him intensified tenfold.
‘In that case, you’ll see how much sense this makes.’
‘None of this makes sense!’
Her temper, which she’d learned to control over the years, exploded like a tinder-dry bush touched by a match. ‘You’re insane! You’ve been playing some warped game ever since I saw you this morning and I have no idea why. You pretend you’re still working on the farm, you hide your new job from me, then you come out with this ridiculous proposal.’
She paused, dragged in several breaths and released her hands before her nails sliced into her palms.
‘I came to you in good faith, to try and put a simple deal forward, and what do I get in return? A bunch of patooey!’
‘Patooey?’
This time, his mouth creased into a wide grin and she almost committed murder on the spot.
‘Is that London speak for bullsh—’
‘It sure is and you’re full of it.’
Hands on hips, she leaned into him, shoving her face in his.
‘When did you become such a jerk, Mancini?’