His gaze dropped to my mouth, blatant mockery in his stare. ‘Exactly. Don’t forget that this is business. But no reason why it can’t be pleasurable, as well.’

The note in his voice caught me deep and heavy, snagged at the taut strings of lust I’d thought were long since slackened from disuse. Beneath the conference table, I squeezed my thighs together as his gaze lingered, the green in his eyes standing out the longer we traded stares.

A throat cleared. ‘Since we’re talking...possible leeway, how about we lift the rule on pursuing prospects outside the show?’ Preston Roper, owner of Roper Casinos, asked.

‘Once the six-month non-compete deal with your fellow Raiders passes, sure,’ Damian replied.

Preston groaned. ‘Seriously? Six months? You know how quickly the market can change in six months.’

‘Not my problem,’ Damian replied. ‘Anything else?’

Other queries arose and were batted away by Damian. The man knew his stuff. I couldn’t deny it. But the devil was an expert in his line of work too.

‘Just so we’re clear, can you confirm that you haven’t seen the pitch list? That you haven’t cherry-picked projects for yourself?’

He stiffened and a chilly breeze wafted through the room. ‘Are you calling my integrity into question, Miss Nolan?’

Yes! ‘I’m the newbie. I’m making sure we’re all on the same page.’

Long masculine fingers drummed on the table for a moment before he replied, ‘As it’s been since the beginning, only the senior producer knows what the candidates will pitch. They’re picked based on a module that matches our business needs with the candidates. Otherwise we’d all be wasting our time. If I wanted to attach my name to a fixed, mindless reality TV show, I wouldn’t be on this project.’

I raised my eyebrow. ‘So that’s a definite no, then?’ I goaded.

A tight smile flickered over his lips before he angled his chair away from me. ‘If there are no more questions, I’ll let the producers know we’re good to go.’

Satisfied I’d made my point, I closed my folder and stood.

‘A word please, Miss Nolan?’

Although framed like a question, one look at his taut face said it wasn’t. He couldn’t have stopped me from leaving, of course, but I was intrigued by what he had to say. More than I suspected was wise.

The others trickled out, and immediately the atmosphere thickened. Or it could’ve just been my inability to take a full breath around this man. Irritation ramped up. ‘I have somewhere else to be, Mr Mortimer.’

He nodded briskly. ‘I won’t keep you long. Please sit. And it’s Damian, as you well know.’

I raised a surprised brow as I retook my seat. ‘Two pleases in one minute. That must be a record for you.’

Several seconds ticked by as he eyed me. ‘Are we going to have a problem, Neve?’

A hot little fizzle lit up my midriff when he said my name—soft, sexy, dangerous, much like the way he had that night. I actively ignored it.

‘You tell me. There’s nothing in the contract that stipulates one member of the panel isn’t allowed to fuck another. And despite all the professional vibes you’ve been attempting to throw out, I can tell you’re a little...affected. So maybe you should be asking yourself that question?’

He cursed under his breath. ‘You go straight for the jugular, don’t you?’

‘I’m just stating facts.’

Firm lips pursed as a muscle ticced in his temple. ‘Did you read the email my assistant sent?’

The question threw me for a second. I rallied quickly. ‘What does it matter?’

‘If you had, you’d have seen that I was late because I was dealing with a personal matter. One that went on longer than I anticipated. I detest being late but it couldn’t be helped. You have my word it won’t happen again.’

The unfettered admission threatened to dissolve my anger, much as I’d let the bleakness in his expression sway me two years ago. But the simple truth was Damian Mortimer believed himself above the rules that governed mere humans. So what if he admitted to a single flaw? He had more damning ones lodged in his soul. Ones he probably didn’t think he needed to answer for. ‘If that’s supposed to be an apology for your tardiness, I accept.’

‘Doesn’t answer my question though. This is my last appearance on this show. I want things to go smoothly. So again, are we going to have a problem?’

‘With my participation in this show? Not a one,’ I replied.

‘Why do I sense you’re playing semantics with me?’

‘You have a terrible imagination?’ Or a much-needed prickle of a guilty conscience?

His eyes narrowed. ‘You seem...different. Were you this distrusting of everyone two years ago or have I done something in particular to earn yours?’ he enquired tersely.

Hell, no, he wasn’t going to do this. ‘Are you serious?’

‘When it comes to business I’m nothing but. But if I recall our one and only encounter was less business, more...something else?’

Something else. Something that didn’t even warrant its proper definition in his book?

Sex. Filthy, sheet-clawing, scream-yourself-hoarse fucking.

I searched his face for acknowledgement of what had been a highly memorable encounter for me in more ways than one. All I got was the apathetic stare of a bored business mogul.

Had I been that forgettable?

It stung. And in that burn my resolve to make him pay solidified.

Perhaps it was feminine pride getting the better of me. Perhaps it was that indomitable aversion to failure sparked to painful life one unforgettable night spent in a child protection service’s halfway house when the threat of losing everything had loomed large and scarily real. Unwilling truth be told, twenty years later, that threat of being alone, of never seeing the mother who’d wilfully admitted to caring very little about me, still lingered at the back of my throat and chose times like these to manifest itself, much to my dismay.

Whichever it was, as I watched him, my goal settled heavy and unmoving inside me.

Damian would succumb to me sexually.

Before we were through with this project, I’d make it impossible for him to forget me. This time he would be the one stumbling away in bewilderment.

Purpose sizzled, then blazed. Through my veins and all the way to my fingertips. Until I could see nothing, taste nothing but the need for retribution.

Maybe I’d known this was coming. Perhaps it was why I’d chosen my clothes with extra care today, why I’d drifted past a closet full of pencil skirts and matching jackets to settle on the low-cleavage pinstriped dress with the short pleated skirt and matching bolero jacket, complemented by my highest work heels. It was definitely why I’d made an appointment with my hair stylist yesterday, shaved my legs and dabbed on my favourite perfume.

It meant that when I leaned back and casually freed the single button holding the jacket fastened, Damian managed to hold out for all of three seconds before his not so jaded gaze dropped to my breasts. And when I rose from the table and casually walked to the nearest window, I didn’t need to look back to know his eyes were fixated on my gym-honed ass.

Time ticked by as I leaned on the narrow sill, pretending interest in the frenzied bustle of Lower Manhattan until the force of his stare branded my skin. Until the heat pulsing between my legs, frantically rousing my lethargic libido, compelled me to turn around.

I perched against the window, subtly angling my body towards the sunlight. ‘Trust is earned. As for distrust...’ I shrugged. ‘Let’s just say I’ve learned to start with a negative balance and let those who are worth it win their way into my graces.’

Damian shifted in his seat. Eyes two shades darker than they’d been minutes ago rose from my hips, paused on the small but tasteful diamond pendant stroking my cleavage, to my face. ‘That’s a jaded way to approach life, isn’t it?’

‘Didn’t you refuse a drink I bought you back in Boston on those same grounds?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Those were different circumstances.’

‘And the rumour that you’ve resigned from six projects in the last month. Is that boredom or because you’ve stretched yourself too thin?’

A watchful gleam entered his eyes. ‘It’s neither. Every partner I’ve dealt with has walked away more than content, not that I owe you an explanation for the way I operate.’

But you owe me an explanation for why you stabbed me in the back for no reason!

I reined in anger and hurt. ‘By the same token, I don’t owe you an explanation on how I approach my relationships.’

We stared each other down for a long silent stretch. Then his mouth twitched. ‘If nothing else, our friction will make for good entertainment.’

I forced a smile. ‘And that’s all that matters in the long run, isn’t it? Good entertainment?’

Another frown attacked his forehead. ‘With all parties walking away with a handful of sound business deals, of course.’

‘Of course,’ I echoed, unable to keep bitterness from staining my voice.

Damian rose and approached. A couple of feet from me, he stopped. This close, with the sun highlighting every feature, it was difficult to look away from his physical perfection. ‘I was under the impression that you were a strong, level-headed woman who wouldn’t let one encounter cloud her business judgment. Are you going to prove me wrong?’ he taunted baldly.

God, I hate, hate, hate Damian Mortimer.

By the skin of my teeth, I managed to pin my smile in place. ‘Are you referring to the same encounter where you played hard to get when I bought you a drink but couldn’t resist showing up at my hotel room afterwards with a hard cock and a couple of tired one-liners?’

Annoyance flared his nostrils. ‘You think telling you you’re beautiful was a glib one-liner?’

I cursed the heat staining my cheeks. ‘I’ve heard more original lines.’

‘It was true then. It’s true now. One thing you should know about me, I believe in the truth at all times, Neve. Even when it’s brutal to hear,’ he said in a deep matter-of-fact voice that still transmitted straight between my legs.

God, how could he be so detached, so insufferable and yet virtually stroke my clit with a few choice words?

My flush deepened. ‘But you believe I’m the type of woman to let flattery or sex get in the way of business? Or do you imagine I’m secretly holding out hope for something else?’

His gaze blazed bright before it dropped to my lips. My stupidly tingling lips. ‘You didn’t exactly hate what happened between us,’ he murmured. ‘You were just as enthusiastic as I was once you let me in.’

I didn’t. And I was. It was what happened the next morning I had a huge problem with. ‘Like you said, Mr Mortimer, whatever friction we create will play well for the cameras. So what are you worried about?’

He visibly reined himself in, a stark look shadowing his eyes before he shook it off. ‘I don’t like surprises. If you’re hiding something up your sleeve...’

I couldn’t help myself. I chuckled.

Irritation sparked his eyes. ‘Did I say something amusing?’

‘Amusing? No. Ironic, yes. You want assurances? Well, I can assure you that it’s going to be one hell of a ride.’

CHAPTER THREE

Damian

STUNNING. EXQUISITE. BREATHTAKING.

Three inadequate words that sprung to mind when I first saw Neve Nolan in my hotel bar two years ago.

Three words that still didn’t do justice to the woman staring me down with fire in her eyes and determination etched into her captivating face.

My unfettered reaction to her then had propelled me to do the unthinkable. I’d dropped my guard. Put myself in a situation I’d known I’d regret the next morning without taking into account how much. Or the mess it would create in the wake of slowly uncovering the truth of what had happened the night I’d supposedly betrayed Gideon.

The growing possibility that I might have been drugged by someone I’d trusted had fucked me up worse than I’d imagined.

Long before that night in Boston, trust had been a shitty mirage I’d given up on. Once upon a time I’d had an innocent child’s trust that my parents would stick around, deliver a modicum of care and attention in a family seething in dysfunction and strife. They hadn’t.

My only truth was hard work and the bone-deep knowledge that everyone in my life had an agenda and a price.

Unsurprising, therefore, that I’d been in a worse than dire mood when Neve had crossed my path.

I’d been reeling from the possibility that there might not be a way of repairing the bridges I’d burned, and my encounter with Neve couldn’t have come at a worse time. Compounding my mistakes by repeating them, by succumbing to that filthy temptation when I should’ve hit the button for my penthouse suite instead of the one that led to Suite 6799... Well, that had been yet another demon I’d been prepared to live with.

But regardless of my personal foibles, I wasn’t a Mortimer in name only. Regardless of my mood, I’d achieved what I’d gone to Boston to do—assess the viability of merging one of Mortimer Group’s smaller but hugely successful companies with Cahill Hotels, and a lesser known outfit. I’d advised Cahill to reject the bid from Cephei in favour of another hotel chain who were a better fit. The Cahill deal was one of many successes that had fattened the family coffers while I’d continued to search for truth and answers.

Now, three long years later, my investigators had exhausted every avenue to find the evidence of Penny’s treachery.

Now Gideon would be forced to listen.

Acid bitterness bit deep, as it did every time I remembered the consequences of letting down my guard.

That particular mushroom cloud still hung above my head, contaminating my every interaction. My family hadn’t exactly shunned me, but it was probably because they didn’t know the full truth.

I sucked in a breath, pulled myself together and refocused on Neve.

She’d signed on the dotted line to participate in Raider’s Den before I had been made aware of her involvement. By then it had been too late to...what? Get her thrown off the show? Further complicate my life with a possible lawsuit?

She wasn’t thrilled to see me. Perhaps I could use that to keep her at arm’s length despite the havoc her close proximity was already wreaking on my libido. Because it was becoming clear that my chaos-loving demons might have severely compromised my judgment when we’d first met, but my body’s unfettered reaction to her when I’d walked into this room today was brazen evidence that the chemistry that’d compelled me to her suite that night still raged strong.

Hell, she was even more spectacular now than she’d been two years ago. My dick had surged to life at the first sight of her, and the damn thing hadn’t subsided since.

Well, too bloody bad.

I was done empire-building on this side of the Atlantic.

My mouth twisted at the thought of what Great-Grandfather Mortimer would’ve made of my particular situation. Probably slapped me on the back with pride that I could still make millions for the family trust even with betrayal staining my bones, my personal life in shreds and my soul in tatters.

I stared into the slate-blue eyes assessing me. She was up to something. The fire burned too bright in her eyes, for starters.

Unfortunately that fire only reminded me of the blaze we’d created, the thrilling noises she’d made when I’d fucked her. As crashing and burning went, the all-night-long fucking in her suite had singed deep, left an indelible mark on my cracked soul.

To make matters worse, the downside of my stringent no-booze-thanks-to-Penny ban meant every sizzling second of our encounter was seared into my memory. Every slide of Neve’s silken skin, every hot gasp as I’d rammed into her unbelievably tight pussy had echoed in my head for a very long time after I’d walked away from her. For weeks, I’d sported a hard-on that had abated only after a teeth-clenching jerking off.

In another time and place, she would’ve been a prize worth pursuing.

Not today.

Not with a very personal, way-past-due goal of righting wrongs in front of me.

Neve Nolan, with her magnificent body draped in clothes that displayed her very fuckable assets, would be resisted on every front.

Her lips moved, drawing my attention to her plump, lightly glossed mouth. The memory of sliding my cock between those lips, the enthusiastic way she’d sucked me off, almost drew a groan from my throat.

I frowned. ‘Beg your pardon?’

‘I said your phone’s buzzing. You should get that. No doubt your highly exclusive presence is urgently required elsewhere,’ she said dryly.

Yeah, she was seriously pissed about something. Absently, I reached for my phone. One glimpse of the London number and every ounce of my focus shifted.

Chest tightening, I started to press the answer button. Then hesitated.

Neve was watching me, had most likely caught whatever was reflected on my face. I schooled my features. ‘I need to take this. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for the first day of filming.’

Her brisk nod belied the curiosity in her eyes. I watched her walk away, unable to stop my gaze from roaming her backside and jaw-dropping legs as she left the room.

The insistent buzz dragged my attention to the phone.

Aunt Flo. As close to a mother as I could get despite my own mother being alive and well.

I stabbed the answer button. ‘Did you get my message?’

‘You have better manners than that, dear boy,’ she snapped.

I breathed out slowly. ‘It’s been a testy morning.’ My patience was running thin on all fronts.

‘It’s been a testy few years for us all.’

My fingers tightened around the phone. ‘Regardless, the stonewalling ends now. It’s time.’ The oppressive guilt wasn’t getting lighter. It suffocated me even more these days, the passage of time an amplified klaxon I could no longer ignore.

No matter what had happened that night three years ago, it was time to face it.

‘Some would say it’s too little too late. Or too much too soon, depending on which side of the fence you’re standing.’

‘Too bad if my timing isn’t convenient for everyone,’ I snapped, frustrated anger licking through me.

She sighed. ‘It’s never going to be good for one of you. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for taking the bull by the horns.’

The pit in my stomach yawed. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been trying to wrestle this damned bull for three years.’

‘I’m aware. But you may have to give it a little more time. The company is in the middle of a delicate negotiation—’

‘The Russian stadium deal,’ I said. As a top executive, I received regular memos on all high-level deals.

‘Yes. And I have my hands full dealing with some of your more pig-headed relatives on the board, not to mention attempting to manage Gideon.’

Hearing his name tightened the band around my chest. ‘Why does he need managing?’ I asked with more than a little snap. The Gideon I knew could manage the family company I’d been meant to co-head with him in his sleep.

Aunt Flo hesitated, making me grit my teeth. ‘What’s going on, Flo?’

‘Your cousin is suffering a bit of a...regression.’

‘In what way?’

‘In all the bad ways. When he’s not working himself into the ground, he’s partying too much at that private club of his. He’s been spiralling for months. It’s only a matter of time before he completely unravels. The family’s meeting this week to decide—’

‘You better not be thinking of ousting him,’ I butted in icily. ‘Not after everything he’s done for the company.’

‘He won’t be if I have anything to do with it. He’ll hate me for telling you this but I know you’re just as iron-willed as he and liable to do something rash, so this is just to give you context.’

Bitter laughter barked out of me. ‘Rash? I listened when you said relocating to the States was what was best for all. But enough is enough. It’s been three years.’

‘I know it’s been hard for you, son.’

She didn’t know the half of it and I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell her the true extent of what Penny had done. Hell, I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she’d drugged me. That deep suspicion now dictated I checked and rechecked every drink I took in public like some paranoid fucker. ‘Good, then you should know I’m wrapping things up here and I’m coming home in the next few weeks with or without this thing being resolved. I’d prefer the former but it won’t stop me either way.’

‘What did I do to deserve the number of grey hairs you two are dishing out to me?’

A reluctant smile broke through my frustration. ‘I have it on good authority that you have an excellent colourist in Sloane Square.’

‘He’s earned his money in the last few months, that’s for sure,’ she quipped, then sighed again. ‘Gideon is preoccupied with this Russian deal. You occupy yourself with wrapping up your life in America. Leave everything else to me.’

‘For now, Aunt Flo. Understand that I won’t let this be for ever.’ I ended the call nowhere near satisfied by the outcome.

Waves of frustration, anger and guilt rolled over me, followed closely by the yawning pit of despair and shame that inevitably arrived with it. The black hole of unanswered questions didn’t erode the reality that I’d let myself down in the most spectacular way.

Two drinks that had turned into three, then four.

Then...total blackout.

Somewhere along the line that night, I’d let my guard down and trusted Penny Winston-Jones, Gideon’s ex-fiancée.

Only she hadn’t been his ex...

And in so doing had betrayed the one person who meant the most to me.

I gripped my phone tighter, the urge to go against Aunt Flo’s advice pummelling me. Only the reminder that she’d been there for me when my own parents abandoned me stopped me.

She would probably forgive me eventually if I went against her advice but could I afford to add another black mark against me?

I slid my phone back into my pocket just as Rachel, my executive assistant, knocked and entered.

‘Your next appointment is here, sir,’ she announced.

As the primary representative for The Mortimer Group, I’d freed myself from the everyday constraints of a single role to explore deals that would suit the family company. It was meant to be a temporary deviation from my usual role as President of Global Expansion so Jasper, my younger brother, could learn the ropes. The grand plan had been to eventually co-CEO the entire Mortimer Group with Gideon.

In the aftermath of Penny’s treachery, that idea had crashed and burned along with our relationship, resulting in this self-imposed, godforsaken exile. One I intended to end ASAP now my investigators had presented me with the near certain facts of what had happened to me that night.

Briefly, I toyed with cancelling the meeting, calling fuck it to the whole day and burning rubber out of Manhattan. I could head to the Hamptons, grab my surfboard and pound the waves until I was too tired to think. Or I could jump on my plane, head to Colorado, pick a mountain and climb it.

I rejected both ideas. Years of trying had shown the futility of attempting to outrun my demons. Staying right here, pursuing The Mortimer Group’s best interest, would at least bring a modicum of satisfaction.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

<1 2 3 4 >

На страницу:

Перейти

3 из 4