The Secret The Italian Claims. Jennie Lucas
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Her husky voice trembled, stopped. She looked at him.
Turning away, Cristiano set down the crystal lowball glass heavily on the dark wood bar. He clenched his hands at his sides to keep himself from the temptation of pulling her into his arms and kissing her to see if her lips were still as delicious as he remembered. He was drawn by the sweet sin of her mouth. Of her body. Of her deep brown eyes, luring him into their depths.
Possessing her once had not been enough. After he’d had her that night, he’d just wanted more. It didn’t help that, naked and soft in his arms, she’d looked up at him in bed as if she were half in love with him already. She’d lured him like a siren to give him more than just his body. More than just his money.
But sex and money were all he could give any woman.
So he’d sent her away, tossing her from the warmth of his bed when his body was still aching for more. After she’d gone, he’d still longed for her, like a sweet, forbidden poison. First thing the next morning, he’d contacted her supervisor and arranged to have her fired. For her own good. And his.
But he had never stopped wanting her. And now, as he stepped toward her, his breathing was hard. And not just his breathing.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I need to tell you something. Important.”
“So you said.” Cristiano’s voice was low as he looked down at her. He came closer, almost close enough to touch her. His mind was scrambling for rationalizations as to why he should.
Perhaps if he slept with her just one more time...
Got her out of his system...
Stop, he told himself furiously.
Hesitating, Hallie licked her full, pink lips. He nearly groaned. Was she purposely taunting him?
“This...isn’t easy to say,” she whispered.
Gritting his teeth, he glared at her. “Let me say it for you, then. I already know why you’re here.”
Her caramel-brown eyes went wide.
“You know?”
He set his jaw. “You never cashed the check.”
Hallie blinked, furrowing her forehead. “The check?”
“The morning after.”
Her cheeks colored and she looked away.
“No,” she said in a low voice. “I ripped it into a million pieces and threw it in the trash.”
“Because you knew, even then, you could demand far more.”
Hallie looked at him sharply.
“I can?” she whispered. “You’d give me money, just for asking? Why?”
“You want me to admit it aloud?” He pulled her roughly against him. She gasped as his hands suddenly moved over her waist, her hips.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking for a microphone.” But even through the thin cotton of her sundress, touching her waist and hips without crushing her lips with his own felt like torture.
“Let me go,” she breathed, not moving.
He released her. Stepping back, he leaned against the marble fireplace, folding his arms and keeping his voice very cold. “Who is your lawyer?”
“My lawyer?”
“Don’t try to pretend you don’t have one. You knew I’d want to keep this quiet. I’m not proud of it.”
Her eyes widened. “Of—of what?”
“It would hardly improve the public image of my company if the CEO is sued for sexual harassment.”
“Oh.” Biting her lip, she looked away, staring for a long moment at the wall of leather-bound books he never read, and the leather reading chair he never sat in, both brought in by an interior designer to make his office look like a nineteenth-century gentleman’s study. And all Cristiano could think right now was that he wanted to bend her back against the enormous dark wood desk, kiss her senseless, pull off her clothes and...
He had to get rid of her before he did something else he’d regret.
“Just tell me the amount,” he said tightly.
“The amount?”
“How much?”
Licking her lips, Hallie said, “I want...the same amount as before.”
“A hundred thousand dollars?” he said incredulously.
“I’ll never bother you again. I give you my word.”
Cristiano could hardly believe she’d ask for so little. Far less than he’d pay if they went to trial. Less than he paid his lawyers for a month. Was it some kind of trick? Or had she been given bad advice by the worst lawyer in the world?
Searching her face, he warned, “You’d have to sign a nondisclosure form.”
“I’ll sign anything you want,” she said meekly, folding her hands in front of her like a nun at prayer.
Now Cristiano was really suspicious. “And a statement admitting that you were fired for cause.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’d say it was your own fault you were fired.” He gave a careless shrug, even as he watched her closely. “The reason can be anything you want. Tardiness. Stealing.”
“Stealing!” Hallie repeated indignantly. Then her expression deliberately smoothed over and became meek again. “I will admit to being late. Yes. I was very, very late.”
Something in Hallie’s tone when she said I was very, very late rang true. And yet he knew it was not.
The morning Cristiano had decided to fire her, he’d asked the HR department to review her file, hoping to hear a legitimate reason she deserved to be let go. “Oh, no, sir,” the HR head had chirped. “Miss Hatfield is one of our hardest-working employees. She works late and volunteers to work holidays instead of employees with kids. And she’s never late!”
So he’d given the task of firing her to her supervisor, instead. Handing the head housekeeper a sealed envelope with a big check, he’d explained to the woman that he’d found Hallie intrusive and her singing annoying. The head housekeeper, whom Cristiano had never spoken to directly before, hadn’t asked the same questions HR would have. She’d just followed his order.
So why would Hallie accept a hundred thousand dollars now, in lieu of a settlement that could have brought her millions? And want it so badly she was actually willing to defame her own character for it?
What kind of incompetent, useless lawyer would ever advise her to do such a thing?
Cristiano could barely restrain himself from telling her what a bad deal she was making. But his goal was to be rid of her before she caused him any more damage—personally or professionally.
“Fine.” He turned to his enormous desk. Pulling out a standard nondisclosure agreement usually given to high-level executives, he pushed it across the desk toward her and scribbled something on a separate piece of paper.
“Might as well keep the lawyers out of it, and save us both time and trouble,” he said carelessly. “Sign these and I’ll write you a check.”
Hallie looked at him sharply. “Give me the check first.”
“What?” He gave a low laugh. “You don’t trust me?”
“No.” She looked at him with quiet determination. “Because I know what kind of man you really are.”
His back snapped straight. “What kind is that?”