Propositioned by the Billionaire

‘I don’t believe it,’ said Jo, her voice tense with frustration. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘Mark was slightly the worse for wear,’ Phoebe interjected. ‘I tried to persuade him to cool off but he wasn’t really co-operating.’

‘Mark was off his head,’ Alex corrected sharply, ‘and I was under the brief misapprehension that Phoebe’s safety was at stake.’

Jo’s mouth dropped open. ‘Why would her safety be at stake?

‘I thought he’d hit her,’ he said flatly.

‘Oh,’ said Jo in a small voice.

A look passed between Alex and his sister that Phoebe couldn’t identify and that nugget of shame threatened to resprout inside her. ‘Nevertheless,’ said Phoebe, forcing it down, ‘you overreacted.’

‘We’ve already been through that,’ grated Alex.

‘I could put it down to jet lag if you’d like,’ said Phoebe helpfully, and then shuddered at the dark scowl that crossed his face.

Jo sighed and her shoulders slumped. ‘Was Mark very drunk?’

‘As a skunk,’ said Phoebe, ‘and after some time in the pond he smelt a bit like one too.’

Jo’s nose wrinkled. ‘What was he doing in the pond?’

‘Making friends with the wildlife,’ said Alex dryly. ‘Someone forgot to put up a fence.’

‘No one forgot,’ said Phoebe. ‘It’s deliberate. It’s cool. The fencelessness of the San Lorenzo Roof Gardens symbolises the uninhibited harmony between man and nature, and is part of its uber-cool appeal.’ At least that was what the website claimed.

‘It’s absurd,’ Alex growled. ‘Your boyfriend,’ he said, emphasising the word with sharp disdain as his gaze skewered Jo to the spot, ‘could have caused serious damage.’

‘It’s not his fault,’ said Jo, her face falling. ‘He’s up to his ears in debt.’

‘Idiot,’ muttered Alex.

‘Spoken like a true billionaire,’ said Phoebe tartly.

Alex’s eyes glittered dangerously. ‘There you go again,’ he said, shaking his head as if in disappointment. ‘Jumping to conclusions and making rash assumptions. I haven’t always been a billionaire. I know what it’s like to have nothing but debts.’

So do I, thought Phoebe, and tried not to think about the enormous loan she’d taken out to set up her business.

‘But I didn’t drown myself in drink,’ Alex added.

‘Lucky you.’ There were times when Phoebe felt like mainlining vodka, but so far she’d managed to resist.

He turned to Jo. ‘I don’t think you should see him again.’

‘Thanks to you I probably won’t,’ Jo fired back.

Right. Phoebe had had enough of this. Sibling squabbling had no place here. ‘Perhaps you two could continue this discussion another time,’ she said in a voice that brooked no argument. ‘Jo, you need to go back inside and mingle. Alex, you need to get a drink and relax. And I need to get on with making sure nothing else goes wrong.’

‘Ms Jackson?’

Phoebe spun round to see the portly form of Mr Bogoni barrelling towards them, huffing and puffing and looking as if he were on the verge of exploding. Her spirits dipped at the expression on his face. Oh, Lord. What was the matter now? Surely one mishap was quite enough for one evening.

‘Ms Jackson,’ he said again, smoothing his hair.

‘Mr Bogoni,’ said Phoebe, flashing him a bright smile that as usual didn’t manage to dent the icy demeanour. ‘You’ll be delighted to know that the flamingo remains unharmed.’

‘I am indeed glad to hear that, but unfortunately we have another problem.’

‘What sort of problem?’

‘I think you’d better come with me.’

Chapter Three

PHOEBE’S MIND RACED as she followed Mr Bogoni across the terrace towards the bar. What could possibly have happened now? And why did Alex have to be following quite so closely? In fact why did he have to be there at all? ‘There was no need for you to come too,’ Phoebe muttered out of the side of her mouth.

‘You think not?’ he drawled. ‘This is perhaps the most important night of my sister’s career. I’m interested in everything that goes on.’

‘Whatever it is,’ said Jo firmly, ‘Phoebe will be able to fix it.’

Phoebe shot Jo a smile of thanks for her vote of confidence and prepared herself for the worst.

But as she stepped into the bar her eyes were drawn up and she froze in absolute horror.

Oh, dear God. This wasn’t a problem. This was a disaster of gargantuan proportions, the likes of which nothing in her experience could have prepared her for. Compared to this, the Mark debacle was as insignificant as a tiny sequin on a full-length ball gown.

Phoebe blinked to check she wasn’t hallucinating, but no. This was no hallucination.

Every single one of Jo’s beautiful handbags was on fire. Multicoloured flames licked at the precious creations and the acrid smell of burning plastic and fabric filled the room. Sparks flew. Metal crackled. Then, as if cremating handbags weren’t bad enough, the individual light above each pedestal went out, the localised sprinkler system kicked in and tiny droplets of water rained over the charred remains. Smoke billowed and then whooshed up into the powerful air conditioning vents.

Icy panic flooded through her. How on earth was she going to spin this? All the guests had edged to the sides of the room and every single one of them was staring up at the spectacle in utter amazement. Jo looked as if she was on the verge of tears; Alex’s stony expression told her he wasn’t amused in the slightest.

The dreadful silence gave way to a rumble of speculation that began to sweep through the room. Gasps of amazement were swiftly followed by murmurs about flammable fabric and toxic materials and Phoebe realised that if she didn’t do something in the next few minutes the situation would become unsalvageable and her business would fail barely before it had begun.

But what? For the first time in her life, she didn’t have a clue what to say. Terror clawed at her chest and a ball of panic lodged in her throat. Her head went fuzzy and for a moment she thought she was about to start hyperventilating.

No. She didn’t have time to hyperventilate. Not when Jo’s bags had all just exploded like firecrackers.

Phoebe’s heart skipped a beat. Wait a moment…firecrackers…

The idea that popped into her head was so outrageously crazy, so unbelievable, that it might actually work. It was a gamble, but if she showed she believed it, everyone else would too, and she’d have turned a major disaster into a fabulous finale.

Euphoric relief wiped the fuzz from her head and an unstoppable grin spread across her face. ‘Don’t worry about a thing,’ she said, leaning over to whisper in Jo’s ear and giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. ‘It’s all going to be fine.’

So how was she going to wriggle out of this one?

Alex leaned against a pillar and folded his arms over his chest as Phoebe marched across the empty floor, stepped up onto the dais and tapped the microphone. All eyes watched her and the room filled with a sort of morbid excitement that reminded him of birds of prey circling an injured animal.

How could Jo ever have thought that hiring someone of her own accord was a wise thing to do? Especially someone who allowed the evening to descend into chaos.

As far as he was aware his sister knew nothing about PR. Whereas he’d worked with his team for years. So why hadn’t she come to him and asked for his advice on something so important? Alex ignored the twinge of hurt and made himself pay attention to what Phoebe was about to say.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she began, smiling broadly and waiting until every drop of focus was on her. ‘Rockets…Catherine wheels…Sparklers…And now handbags.’ She paused. ‘I think you’ll all agree that our grand pyrotechnical finale was much more original than a firework display. A little earlier than planned, perhaps, but no less spectacular.’

Alex’s jaw tightened. Hah. She was doomed. As if anyone was going to believe a story as ridiculous as that. With one ear on the rest of her speech, which continued in the same dubious vein, he surveyed the room with a sceptical eye. She’d never pull this off.

He was just beginning to congratulate himself on having saved Jo from a terrible career move, when to his utter amazement people began to smile and nod and whisper to each other. Surely people couldn’t actually be buying her absurd explanation?

‘And as that rounds off the evening’s events,’ Phoebe said finally, ‘I’d like to thank you all for coming, and hope you enjoy the upcoming launch of the debut collection of the fabulous Jo Douglas.’

Jo stepped up to her side and gave a little curtsey. Phoebe started clapping and as everyone else joined in the sound grew into a thunderous applause. The pair of them stepped off the dais, basking in glory, and Alex watched through narrowed eyes as a woman in purple cornered Phoebe and a crowd of people flocked around Jo.

OK, so that was a clever wiggle, he grudgingly admitted, still slightly stunned by the fact that everyone had apparently bought into her explanation. Her timing was impeccable, her imagination was extraordinary and she’d had her audience eating out of her hand.

Maybe Phoebe wasn’t as incapable as he’d originally thought, but that was tough. To his mind she was an enigma and that made her a liability. And what did Jo really know about her anyway? He’d bet everything he had that she hadn’t delved that far into her background and her experience, and had made little effort to see whether she was trustworthy. So it was lucky he’d shown up when he did.

Gradually the guests drifted off and Jo bounded over to him, grinning like a lunatic. ‘You see,’ she said triumphantly. ‘I told you Phoebe’d fix it. Isn’t she amazing?’

Alex grimaced. Amazing wasn’t quite the word he’d use to describe her. Beautiful. That was a good one. Sexy as hell. With a mouth that had been made for kissing and a body that seemed to have been created specially to fit to his.

The kiss they’d shared beneath the pergola slammed into his head and a savage kick of lust thumped him in the gut.

Damn. Burying his attraction to her was going to take far more effort than he’d thought. Still, once he’d got rid of her, desire would fade and in future he’d steer well clear of women who obliterated his self-control and drove him mindless with just a kiss.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were planning to hire someone to do your PR?’ he said mildly, his voice betraying nothing of the battle raging inside him.

‘Because I knew you wouldn’t have approved.’

‘You’re right. I don’t. I want you to use my PR people.’

Jo sighed. ‘You see. This is why I didn’t want you here. I knew you were going to do this. Alex, I don’t want to use your people.’

‘Why not? My team are tried and tested. Reliable.’ At least as reliable as anyone other than himself could be.

Jo’s expression turn mutinous and Alex wondered where this backbone of steel had sprung from. ‘Your team might be excellent at dealing with finance and inventions and things, but they wouldn’t know one end of a handbag from the other.’ Alex felt his jaw tighten. That might be true, but they could learn. ‘Phoebe handled the account of a graduate from my college a few years ago when she was working at one of the big PR agencies. Maria now works in Paris for one of the top fashion houses. Phoebe has incredible contacts and, well, you can see for yourself what she’s achieved this evening.’

Alex let out a short burst of incredulous laughter. As far as he could tell, all she’d achieved was a series of disasters.

Jo shifted her weight from one foot to the other, but didn’t look as if she intended to back down. ‘OK, so I admit that my handbags on fire wasn’t exactly in the plans, but would your PR team have come up with such a spectacular excuse?’

Probably not, but that wasn’t the point. ‘My PR team would never have let it happen in the first place.’

‘Phoebe didn’t “let” it happen. It was an accident. Not even you can turn it into her fault.’

Hmm. Pity. The implication of her words sank in and Alex winced. He wasn’t that unreasonable. If he did come over as heavy-handed occasionally it was only for Jo’s benefit. But his sister clearly didn’t see it like that. In her eyes Phoebe could do little wrong. Knowing which battles to fight if he wanted to win, Alex decided to switch tactics. ‘How well do you know her?’

‘Pretty well. I’ve been working with her for two months.’

Two months was nothing. He’d known Rob for ten years and it hadn’t stopped his best friend betraying him. ‘And how do you know she won’t drop you the moment someone with better prospects comes along?’

Jo sighed. ‘At the moment I’m her only client. She needs me as much as I need her so I think that makes her pretty trustworthy, don’t you?’ She pushed a lock of hair off her face and fixed him with a stare. ‘Look, Alex. I know I’ve been a nightmare and have given you untold cause for worry. And you’ll never know how grateful I am for all the help and support you’ve given me but I really need to start taking responsibility for my own life. Mistakes and all. You can’t keep protecting me for ever.’

Couldn’t he? He’d been doing exactly that ever since her parents died and he didn’t intend to stop now. Especially after the hideous events of five years ago when he’d screwed up so spectacularly. A familiar wave of guilt washed over him and his chest tightened. He didn’t intend to screw up again.

‘Alex, I really want this. Phoebe and I work well together. She understands what I need. Please don’t mess this up for me.’

The quiet pleading in her voice cut right through him and Alex felt his resolve waver. He ran his gaze over her and looked at her properly for the first time this evening. She’d changed in the two months since he’d last seen her. She seemed more confident, more determined, healthier. More like the girl she’d been before she’d met Rob.

Alex sighed and felt his control over her well-being begin to slip away. As harrowing as the prospect of letting Jo find her own way in the world was, maybe she was right. She was twenty-two. He couldn’t protect her for ever. Maybe it was time he loosened the reins. A little. But if either of them thought he’d just sit back and hope for the best, they could think again.

Chapter Four

BY ELEVEN O’CLOCK the following morning Phoebe had spent three hours at her desk, poring over the press, answering calls from potential clients and trying not to wonder where Alex had disappeared to the night before.

Maybe he’d had a date. Maybe he’d succumbed to jet lag and had crashed out in a flowerbed. Maybe he’d been appalled by the haphazard way the party had panned out and left in disgust.

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