Daring to Date the Boss / The Tycoon Who Healed Her Heart: Daring to Date the Boss / The Tycoon Who Healed Her Heart. Melissa James
Читать онлайн книгу.
only became clear after his death, and speculation was rife on whether his death had been deliberate. Armand Bollinger had just turned seventeen at the time, but he’d taken control of his family finances. With years of hard work and dedication, he’d paid his father’s debts before he recreated this five-star resort. He obviously didn’t take his success for granted.
Thanks to her, his professional prestige had taken a hit. She knew too well how that felt.
‘This situation is my fault.’ She gazed at him in determined apology, trying to ignore that odd thrill racing through her body, just by looking into those dark-lashed, storm-grey eyes. An article from about a decade ago floated into her memory: the hypnotic eyes of the Wolf … ‘Please don’t fire anyone, Herr Bollinger. It wasn’t their fault. It was mine.’
‘I have no need or desire to fire anyone, Ms Chase. All my staff have given me complete satisfaction until now. I believe everyone deserves a second chance.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she agreed fervently, though he’d spoken in a voice almost as cold as the snow outside. ‘They do. And it really was my fault.’
‘So you’ve now said three times.’ As slow as the nod he’d given her moments before, a smile was born. Not the perfunctory stretching of lips she’d seen on rare pictures of him during the past decade, but a real, warm smile. The silly little thrill became outright shivers racing through her as fast as a Daytona driver. She’d seen loads of pretty boys in LA: models, actors and the rest. But she’d never seen such true, strong masculine beauty close up before. When he smiled, Armand Bollinger was devastating.
‘Moreover, I understand their fascination.’ Either not noticing her reaction, or not caring, he lifted the painted china coffee-pot sitting on a matching stand with a candle to keep it warm and offered it to her. Trying her best not to stare at him, she nodded and he poured it into her cup. ‘Having a real Hollywood star hiding out in our quiet resort is a scandal too delicious not to take part in.’ He held out the coffee cup to her.
She stiffened. ‘I thought you of all people would know the truth, Herr Bollinger, given your brief stint as both a French and international noir actor, years ago though it was. Stars belong in the sky.’ She took the cup and put it down fast; her hands were trembling. ‘But I agree that the whole world knows about my life.’
‘Or think they do,’ he said with a wryness that seemed to come from the heart. ‘But, as you know nothing about my real life, I know nothing of yours, Ms Chase. I merely made a generalisation on how average people feel about meeting the rich and famous.’
Startled, she looked up, but his concentration was on his refilled coffee, watching the steam rise. She opened her mouth and then shut it hard. Something about Armand Bollinger was dangerous … and seductive. Oh, he was good, if he could make her yearn to unburden herself within an hour of meeting.
‘I guess nobody knows anyone’s true story but those involved, unless their publicist gives a quote,’ she said lightly. ‘But you know the first rule of the media: never let truth get in the way of good sales for the tabloids.’ From staring at the curls of steam from her coffee, she looked up with a smile that was its own barrier, daring him to ask.
‘So I’ve heard.’ His tone sounded half a million miles away, a lifetime ago.
She found herself staring at him again against her will and even her need. It was as if he’d put her under hypnosis. He had a knack of being able to say so much with a few words, leaving her with the feeling of things unfinished, wanting more. It was as if an asteroid was flying by her, dragging her into its orbit as it passed.
This was the last thing she needed. All she’d wanted was her privacy, to pay her bills when she’d found the strength to face her life. He’d been the one to barge in here, expose her and then say everything and nothing at once. And she still didn’t know why he was here.
‘I think I’ve asked enough times, Herr Bollinger.’ She put down her cutlery and pushed the rest of the salad away from her. More trembling little thrills, more resolute denial. She said calmly enough, ‘What is it you’re asking of me?’
CHAPTER THREE
AFTER a long moment Armand leaned forward, looking into her face. Those eyes had a power he couldn’t define—unless it lay in their utter guilelessness. He’d played the game of love so long with other players, being straightforward with a strange woman felt almost unfamiliar. He followed her suit, pushing his half-eaten lunch away. This discussion was too important to blur with food. ‘It’s obvious that the past few months have been harder on you than most people know.’
He waited for an answer but, as if refusing to hand her power over even in confirmation or denial, she kept her chin high and said nothing but merely waited.
When it was obvious she wasn’t going to answer his unspoken question, to make his task any easier, he decided to plunge ahead. ‘You need a place to stay with discreet staff, without needing to go out in public, or do your own shopping, et cetera. My resort is the right place for you. We offer you all the services you need.’
After what seemed like minutes of waiting, she bowed her head, stiff and cold. Just as he’d have done—in fact it was what he had done when he’d been barely seventeen, a rising star in the art-house industry and the secrets surrounding his father’s death had been resurrected in the name of public entertainment. ‘Go on.’
‘But this cabin is my home. If I don’t stay in it while I’m here, it will cause the kind of remark and speculation you need least at the moment—but, again, if anyone sees you here and recognises you, you end up with the same problem.’
He saw the flash of fear cross her face before it disappeared. There was something deeper here she was worried about than just her public reputation. ‘I don’t know whether I caused your problem, you caused mine, or both,’ she said, with a slow kind of horror.
‘Both,’ he replied dryly. ‘Mine is but a minor nuisance, Ms Chase. I believe your problem to be more serious.’ He left the air filled with the question unspoken. The women he’d known usually rushed to fill a conversational gap if he made it intriguing enough.
This woman didn’t even look up, or seem to notice he’d left a half-question dangling there. ‘But I caused it. If I hadn’t left my room …’ Frowning hard, she shook her head.
If he was reading the look in her half-fallen eyes correctly, she felt as guilty as she did fearful—and he had her right where he wanted her. The future of his resorts could be smooth, and her life set back on the right course, with just a little manipulation.
But he’d been hurt and manipulated when he was a boy. Long ago, he’d sworn he would never inflict his will on another, no matter what benefits it could bring him. Yet here he was, playing the worst kind of game, being his father’s son. Was history repeating itself—the one thing he’d believed would never happen?
He refused to give in to the guilt coursing through him. Damn it, this time it’s right.
‘All the regular guests will wonder if I don’t stay here,’ he said, drowning the guilt beneath the weight of arguments he thought would convince her. Yes, he wanted something from her, but he was giving as much as he got, relatively speaking. He might gain financial rewards, but she got what she seemed to need desperately—peace and quiet. ‘Apart from family, I’ve never had any woman here so your presence has already caused speculation.’
Another look crossed her face, similar to when she’d asked about the complaints against the staff. ‘I didn’t realise …’ Her eyes squeezed shut. Her mouth opened, made soundless motions, and then she said faintly, ‘Again, I can only apologise for the trouble I’ve caused you.’
Her embarrassment was too genuine to deny. Armand felt a crazy urge to run out of the cabin, get some fresh air to clear his head. The spoiled-brat media darling he’d assumed her to be an hour ago might have railroaded his staff into bowing to her will, but this woman’s conscience seemed even more radiant