At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? / High-Society Secret Baby. Rachel Bailey
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into the fourth and fifth generations.”
Bile rose in her throat. Yes, she could believe that of her father. It fitted his obsession with the future of his company, his total contempt for the idea that a daughter could be the one to hand it down to.
Her mouth twisted into a smile. “And apparently the deal on the table was only for me, much to your disappointment.”
He held up a hand. “That part of the report was wrong. Your father’s terms stipulated either daughter. I chose you.”
Macy coughed out a laugh. She didn’t believe that for a second. Kyla had always been the one the boys preferred—she was gorgeous, sexy and knew how to make a man come to her with her eyes. Of course Ryder would have chosen Kyla if he’d had the option.
Another thought struck. “Did you tell the media?”
“No.” His forehead creased into a frown. “And to be honest, I can’t think of how the media got hold of it. Surely your father wouldn’t want this type of publicity, either?”
She sighed. “Kyla.” It was her style.
“To jeopardize the sale?”
“To make me say no.” And then land the bachelor catch of the year herself.
Which brought her back to the facts: her father had tried to sell her. And Ryder had jumped at the offer.
She looked out the window, down to the buildings below, before finding his eyes again. “I can’t believe you even considered this, let alone agreed.” She’d thought her ability to judge people had improved, but this demonstrated otherwise.
The elevator doors whooshed open out in the hall and she heard Tina dropping her bag on her desk outside.
Ryder didn’t turn to the noise but he paused, waiting.
Tina poked her head around the door to give her usual morning greeting, but hesitated as she took in the scene. “Are you okay?”
Ryder didn’t take his eyes off Macy as he replied. “We’re fine. Shut the door on your way out.”
Macy nodded to her assistant to confirm she was okay and Tina discreetly backed out, closing the door behind her.
As if they hadn’t been interrupted, Ryder continued, his voice calm … persuasive. “We could have a good marriage. I’d be a faithful husband and an involved father with our children.”
He’d already factored children into the equation? Macy blinked rapidly, trying to recapture her inner balance. This conversation became more bizarre with every passing minute.
With three easy steps he was behind the desk with her. Not within touching distance, but strategically eliminating the desk as a barrier.
“And I’m prepared to give you whatever you want. A house in Tuscany. Your own company. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires. Name your terms.” He tilted his head to the side, the picture of reasonableness. “I think we’d get along well.”
Macy crossed her arms under her breasts, needing some sort of protection. Not from his words, but from his presence. She could smell his scent and it brought back memories she couldn’t afford to indulge right now.
She tilted her chin up. “I’m not sure where you got the idea that I’d be interested in your peculiar offer, but I will not now—nor will I ever—enter into a marriage of convenience. We don’t know each other well enough to even have this conversation.” She let her arms drop to her sides and let out a long breath. “What about love? Don’t you want to wait and find a woman you love?”
Ryder rolled back his broad shoulders. “I have to be honest. Love isn’t something I can offer.”
Macy sucked in a breath at his quick and effortless dismissal of being able to love her. But it wasn’t worth wasting energy over. She shook her head. “If you know anything about my family, you have to know the last man I’d ever marry is the one my father picked out for me.”
His eyelids lowered a fraction as his voice became seductive. “You liked me last night.”
Instinctively, she glanced at the screen on her desk, to the front page of the paper. To the image of Ryder kissing her. The shot had been taken as he cupped her cheeks with his hands, so they floated in the air, framing her face. Her throat went dry and she swallowed, remembering the crushing need she’d felt for him in that moment. Remembering the feel of him, the taste of him, the smell of him….
She ignored the ache that pressed in her chest, then, resolute, she looked up and met his eyes. “I won’t break my contract—I’m a professional. I’ll see out this project for the six weeks left. Then I’m gone. I don’t want your promotion. And in the meantime, no more games. You’ll keep your distance. There will be no meetings alone, or trips together like the one planned to Sydney in two weeks.”
His shoulders squared and his feet moved a little wider apart. “Not acceptable.”
She did a double take. “Pardon?”
“If you’re seeing out the contract, then you still work for me. You will be on that plane to Sydney. I’m not going on an important trip with an accountant or a personal assistant when the team leader is available.”
Macy took an unsteady step back, mind whirling. “You can’t possibly expect—”
“I do.” Any trace of the man who’d kissed her was gone from his expression as he cut her off. The Machine was back. “There are no lame ducks on my payroll. If you’re staying, you’ll carry out your duties properly.”
He turned and strode out the door, leaving her open-mouthed, watching him.
Had she felt cornered before? Seemed she’d just discovered a whole new level of entrapment.
One week later, Macy stood in the foyer of her apartment building watching for Ryder’s car. Right on the dot of 8:00 a.m. it arrived, yet she wasn’t surprised. The Machine probably ran his whole life like clockwork.
The silver luxury car pulled to the curb and the uniformed driver circled to open her door. Macy smiled in greeting to Bernice in the front passenger seat. She’d worked with Ryder’s personal assistant several times over the days the American team had been based in the Melbourne offices, and respected her.
“Thank you.” She slid into the backseat where Ryder’s solid length was settled.
“Good morning, Macy,” he said, voice deep and rough. Dressed in a dark suit with a sky-blue shirt and tie the same shade, he dominated the sedan. His clean, woodsy scent filled the air.
She gave him a polite smile, belying the way the sight of him still made her pulse spike. “Good morning.”
They’d kept the polite facade going since the morning the paparazzi photo had been in the paper. The way she wanted it.Needed it to keep her reaction to him under control.
As the driver climbed back behind the wheel and pulled away, Ryder’s voice rumbled again from beside her. “Bernice, did William send those updates?”
Pages rustled in the front and Ryder and his personal assistant were soon in deep conversation. With no desire to hear details of the U.S. operations of companies unrelated to her project, Macy blocked it out and thought about the delicate issue she needed to bring up with Ryder as soon as she got him alone.
From the day the paper ran the story about them, security guards had been stationed not only at the office, but also in front of her apartment building. When she left each night, the guards escorted her next door and shielded her from the small contingent of paparazzi that now staked out their street.
When she’d first quizzed her doorman about the guards at her apartment complex, he’d said the building’s owner had employed them. But last night the doorman had let slip another piece of information that had confirmed her suspicions.
Ryder was behind the new security