The Billionaire's Defiant Acquisition. Sharon Kendrick
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was aware that someone was coming towards her. And when she could no longer restrain herself, she looked up.
The breath dried in her throat and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it, because yesterday she hadn’t been expecting him and today she was. And surely that meant she should have been primed not to react—she was busy telling herself not to react—but somehow it didn’t work like that. Her heart began to pound and her mouth dried to dust and feelings which were completely alien to her began to fizz through her body. On his own territory he looked even more intimidating than he had done yesterday—and that was saying something.
The urbane business suit had gone and he was dressed entirely in black. A black cashmere sweater and a pair of black jeans, which hugged his narrow hips and emphasised his long, muscular legs. His shadowy presence only seemed to emphasise the sense of power which radiated from him like a dark aura. Against the sombre shade, his skin seemed more golden than she remembered—but his midnight eyes were shuttered and his unsmiling face gave nothing away.
‘I thought I told you to make an appointment—although I can’t remember if that was before or after you told me to go to hell.’ His lips flattened into an odd kind of smile. ‘And since you can see for yourself that this place is as far from hell as you can imagine—I’m wondering exactly what it is you’re doing here, Amber.’
Amber stared into his eyes and tried to think about something other than the realisation that they gleamed like sapphires. Or that his features were so rugged and strong. He looked so powerful and unyielding, she thought. As if he held all the cards and she held none. She wanted to demand that he listen to her and stop trying to impose his will on her. Until she reminded herself that she was supposed to be appealing to his better nature—in which case it would make sense to adopt a more conciliatory tone, rather than blurting out her demands.
‘I’ve been to the bank,’ she said.
He smiled, but it wasn’t a particularly friendly smile. ‘And the nasty man there informed you that your father has finally pulled the plug on all the freebies you’ve survived on until now—is that what you were going to say, Amber?’
‘That’s exactly what I was going to say,’ she whispered.
‘And?’
He shot the word out like a bullet and Amber began to wonder if she should have worn something different. Something shorter, which might have shown a bit of leg instead of her knees being completely covered by the frumpy dress.
Well, if you’re going to dress like a poor orphan from the storm—then at least start behaving like one.
Her voice gave a little wobble, which wasn’t entirely fabricated. ‘And I don’t know what I’m going to do,’ she said.
His lips twisted. ‘You could try going out to work, like the rest of the human race.’
‘But I...’ Amber kept the hovering triumph in her voice at bay and replaced it with a gloomy air of resignation. ‘I’m almost impossible to employ, that’s the trouble. It’s a fierce job market out there and I don’t have many of the qualities which employers are seeking.’
‘Agreed,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘An overwhelming sense of entitlement never goes down well with the boss.’
She cleared her throat. ‘Things are really bad, Conall. I can’t get hold of my father, my credit cards have all been frozen and I can’t...I can’t even eat,’ she finished dramatically.
‘But presumably you can still smoke?’
Her head jerked back and her eyes narrowed...
‘And don’t bother denying it,’ he ground out. ‘Because I can smell it on you and it makes me sick to the stomach. It’s a disgusting habit—and one you’re going to have to kick.’
Amber could feel her blood pressure rising, but she forced herself to stay calm. Be docile, she told herself. Let him believe what he wants to believe.
‘Of course I’ll give it up if you help me,’ she said meekly.
‘You mean that?’
Chewing on her bottom lip and making her eyes grow very big, Amber nodded. ‘Of course I do.’
He gave a brief nod. ‘I’m not sure I believe you, but if you’re just playing games, then let me warn you right now that it’s a bad idea and you might as well turn around and walk out again. However, if you’re really in a receptive place and serious about wanting to change, then I will help you. Do you want my help, Amber?’
It nearly killed her to do so but she gave a sulky nod. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Good. Then come upstairs to my office and we’ll decide what we’re going to do with you.’ He glanced over at the blonde and Amber was almost certain that he winked at her. ‘Hold all my calls, will you, Serena?’
CONALL DEVLIN’S OFFICE was nothing like Amber would have imagined, either. She had expected something brash, or slightly tacky—something which would fit well with his brutish exterior. But she was momentarily lost for words as he took her into a beautifully decorated first-floor room which overlooked the street at the front and a beautiful garden at the back.
The walls were grey—the subtle colour of an oyster shell—and it provided the perfect backdrop for many paintings which hung there. Amber blinked as she looked around. It was like being in an art gallery. He was obviously into modern art and he had a superb eye, she conceded reluctantly. His curved desk looked like a work of art itself and in one corner of the room was a modern sculpture of a naked woman made out of some sort of resin. Amber glanced over at it before quickly looking away, because there was something uncomfortably sensual about the woman’s stance and the way she was cupping her breast with lazy fingers.
She looked up to find Conall watching her, his midnight eyes shuttered as he indicated the chair in front of his desk, but Amber was much too wired to be able to sit still while facing him. Something told her that being subjected to that mocking stare would be unendurable.
So start clawing some power back, she told herself fiercely. Be sweet. Make him want to help you.
He was rich enough to give her a temporary stay of execution until her father got back from his ashram and everything could be cleared up. She walked over to one of the windows and stared down onto the street as two teenage girls strolled past, chewing gum and giggling—and she felt a momentary pang of wistfulness for the apparent ease of their lives and a sense of being carefree which had always eluded her.
‘I haven’t got all day,’ he warned. ‘So let’s cut to the chase. And before you start fluttering those long eyelashes at me, or trying to work the convent-schoolgirl look—which, let me tell you, isn’t doing it for me—let me spell out a few things. I’m not giving you money without something in return and I’m not letting you have an apartment which is way too big for you. So if the sole purpose of this unscheduled visit is to throw yourself on my mercy asking for funds—then you’re wasting your time.’
For a moment Amber was struck dumb because she couldn’t ever remember anyone speaking to her like that. Up until the age of four she’d been a princess living in a palace, and then she’d been catapulted straight into a nightmare when her parents had split up. The next ten years had been several degrees of horrible and she hadn’t known which way to turn. And when she’d been brought back to live in her father’s house after her mother’s accident—seriously cramping his style with wife number whatever it had been—everyone had tiptoed round her.
Nobody had known how to deal with a grieving and angry teenager and neither had she. Her confidence had been completely punctured and so had her self-esteem. Her moods had been wild and unpredictable and she’d quickly realised that she could get people to do what she wanted them to do. Amber had learnt that if her lips wobbled in a certain way, then people fell over themselves to help her. She’d