The Billionaire's Defiant Acquisition. Sharon Kendrick
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anyone else had attempted to negotiate the kind of terms Ambrose Carter had demanded, then Conall would have given an emphatic no and walked away from the deal without looking back. But the acquisition of this imposing tower block in this part of London wasn’t just something he’d set his heart on—a lifetime dream he’d never thought he’d achieve just shy of his thirty-fifth birthday. It was more than that. He owed the old man. He owed him big time. Because despite Ambrose’s own car crash of an emotional life, he had shown Conall kindness at a time when his life had been short of kindness. He had given him the break he’d needed. Had believed in him when nobody else had.
‘You owe me, Conall,’ he’d said as he had outlined his outrageous demand. ‘Do this one thing for me and we’re quits.’
And even though Conall had inwardly objected to the blatant emotional blackmail, how could he possibly have refused? If it weren’t for Ambrose he could have ended up serving time in prison. His life could have been very different. Surely it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that he could teach his mixed-up daughter a few fundamental lessons in manners and survival.
He stared into her emerald eyes and tried to ignore the sensual curve of her mouth, which was sending subliminal messages to his body and making a pulse at his temple begin to hammer. ‘Yesterday, I made a significant purchase from your father.’
She wasn’t really paying attention. She was too busy casting longing looks in the direction of her cigarettes. ‘And your point is?’
‘My point is that I now own this apartment block,’ he said.
He had her attention now. All of it. Her green eyes were shocked—she looked like a cat which had had a bucket of icy water thrown over it. But it didn’t take longer than a couple of seconds for her natural arrogance to assert itself. For her to narrow those amazing eyes and look down her haughty little nose at him.
‘You? But...but it’s been in his property portfolio for years. It’s one of his key investments. Why would he sell it without telling me?’ She wrinkled her brow in confusion. ‘And to you?’
Conall gave a short laugh. The inference was as clear as the blue spring sky outside the penthouse windows. He wondered if she would have found the news less shocking if the purchase had been made by some rich aristocrat—someone who presumably she would have less trouble twisting around her little finger.
‘Presumably because he likes doing business with me,’ he said. ‘And he wants to free up some of his money and commitments in order to enjoy his retirement.’
Another frown pleated her perfect brow. ‘I had no idea he was thinking about retirement.’
Conall was tempted to suggest that if she communicated with her father a little more often, then she might know what was going on in his life, but he wasn’t here to judge her. He was here to offer her a solution to her current appalling lifestyle, even if it went against his every instinct.
‘Well, he is. He’s winding down and as of now I am the new owner of this development.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘Which means, of course, that there are going to be a number of changes. The main one being that you can no longer continue to live here rent-free as you have been doing.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You are currently occupying a luxury apartment in a prime location,’ he continued, ‘which I can rent out for an astronomical monthly sum. At the moment you are paying precisely nothing and I’m afraid that the arrangement is about to come to an end.’
Her haughty expression became even haughtier and she shuddered, as if the very mention of money was in some way vulgar, and Conall felt a flicker of pleasure as he realised he was enjoying himself. Because it was a long time since a woman had shown him anything except an eager green light.
‘I don’t think you understand, Mr...Devlin,’ she continued, spitting his name out as if it were poison, ‘that you will get your money. I’m quite happy to pay the current market value as rent. I just need to speak to my bank,’ she concluded.
He gave a smile. ‘Good luck with that.’
She was getting angry now. He could see it in the sudden glitter of her eyes and the way she curled her scarlet fingernails so that they looked like talons against the faded denim of her skinny jeans. And he felt a corresponding flicker of something he didn’t recognise. Something he tried to push away as he stared into the furious tremble of her lips.
‘You may know my father and my brother,’ she said, ‘but that certainly doesn’t give you the authority to make pronouncements about things which are none of your business. Things about which you know nothing. Like my finances.’
‘Oh, I know more about those than you might realise,’ he said. ‘More than you would probably be comfortable with.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Believe what you like, baby,’ he said softly. ‘Because you’ll soon find out what’s true. But it doesn’t have to get acrimonious. I’m going to be very magnanimous, Amber, because your father and I go back a long way. And I’m going to make you an offer.’
Her magnificent eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘What kind of offer?’
‘I’m going to offer you a job and the chance to redeem yourself. And if you accept, we’ll see about giving you an apartment more suited to a woman on a working wage, rather than this—’ He gave an expansive wave of his hand. ‘Which you have to admit is more suited to someone on a millionaire’s salary.’
She was staring at him incredulously, as if she couldn’t believe what he’d just said. As if he were suddenly going to smile and tell her that he’d simply been teasing and she could have whatever it was she wanted. Was that how men usually behaved towards her? he wondered. Of course it was. When you looked the way she looked, men would fall over themselves whenever she clicked her beautifully manicured fingers.
‘And if I don’t accept?’
He shrugged. ‘That will make things a little more difficult. I will be forced to give you a month’s notice and after that to change the locks, and I’m afraid you’ll be on your own.’
She jumped to her feet, her eyes spitting green fire—looking as if she’d like to rush across the room and rake those scarlet talons all over him. And wasn’t there a primitive side of him which wished she would go right ahead? Take them right down his chest to his groin. Curve those red nails around his balls and gently scrape them, before replacing them with the lick of her tongue.
But she didn’t. She just stood there sucking in a deep breath and trying to compose herself...while his erotic little fantasies meant that he was having to do exactly the same.
‘I may not know much about the law, Mr Devlin,’ she said, biting out the words like splinters of ice, ‘but even I know that you aren’t allowed to throw a sitting tenant out onto the streets.’
‘But you’re not a tenant, Amber, and you never have been,’ he said, trying not to show the sudden triumph which rushed through him. Because although she might be spoilt and thoroughly objectionable, she was going to learn enough of life’s harsher lessons in the coming weeks, without him rubbing salt into the wound. He picked his next words carefully. ‘Your father has been letting you live here as a favour, nothing more. You didn’t sign any agreements—’
‘Of course I didn’t—because he’s my father!’
‘Which means that your occupancy was simply an act of kindness. And now he has sold it to me, I’m afraid he no longer has any interest or claims on the property. And as a consequence, neither do you.’
Wildly, she shook her head and ebony tendrils of hair flew around it. ‘He wouldn’t just have sprung it on me like this! He would have told me!’ she said, her voice rising.
‘He said he’d sent you a letter to inform you what was happening, and so had the bank.’
Amber shot