Marrying the Enemy

Clueless, he raised an eyebrow and she elaborated. ‘The bail is that triangular bit that attaches the pendant to the necklace. The bar and ring, or toggle clasp, is the fastener where the bar is inserted into the ring to attach the two ends of the necklace.’

‘Sounds fascinating.’

Her dubious glare insinuated he was mocking her. He wasn’t. Hearing her speak so passionately only piqued his interest more.

And made him wonder how passionate she’d be in other areas.

She crooked her finger and he gladly pressed his nose to the glass to be closer to her. ‘See the intricate bezel setting around each emerald? My signature.’

‘Beautiful.’

He wasn’t looking at the necklace and they both knew it by the delicate pink staining her cheeks before she straightened and edged away.

Before he could second-guess his actions, something he never did in the business arena, he snagged her arm. ‘Didn’t think you’d be the shy, retiring type, so why can’t you take a compliment?’

Something furtive bordering on hurt flickered in her eyes before she deliberately blinked. When she opened them, their unusual green sparked better than the emeralds locked behind the case.

‘Honestly? It’s been a long evening—’ he only just caught her a long year ‘—and I’m dead on my feet.’

Sympathy jagged his conscience. The polite thing to do would be to leave. Retreat and come back another time when Sapphire Seaborn was here and he could launch his subtle attack.

But he hadn’t come this far without being ruthless and no way would he back down now. He needed to deliver a message and the beautiful blonde could relay it to her sister much better than he could.

‘You want me to leave?’

An empty question observing niceties when he had no intention of playing nice.

She fiddled with the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist, twisting it round and round. ‘Yes and no.’

Confused, he folded his arms and waited. ‘Enlighten me.’

With a drawn-out sigh, she eyeballed him. ‘Yeah, I’d love you to leave so I can head up to my apartment, get out of this fancy outfit and kick back with my fluffy slippers, a tub of caramelised popcorn and Jake Gyllenhaal.’

A chick-flick fan, he should’ve known. Was there no woman on the planet who didn’t go for slick movie stars?

Her fingers flitted from the bracelet to sliding a dress ring around her third finger. ‘No, because you’re a mystery, and I want to know what you were really doing here tonight apart from skulking in corners ignoring my exquisite creations.’

Yeah, she was a firecracker all right, and a lick of excitement jabbed his jaded soul.

‘No mystery. Jax Maroney.’

He held out his hand but his attempt at a handshake fell flat when he had to grab her to prevent her collapsing at his feet.

She swayed, her skin pale, her eyes wide and startled as she stared at him as if he’d popped up from Hades to steal her soul.

‘You’re Jax Maroney?’ Her incredulity implied she’d find believing he was Elvis in disguise easier.

‘Last time I checked.’

Her pallor vanished as colour surged to her cheeks and her neck muscles snapped rigid.

‘Get out.’

He’d heard that phrase used a fair bit as a kid, when he’d hung out with mates who’d idolised their dads.

‘Get out, kids, the pub’s no place for you. This is men’s business.’

The thing was, whenever he’d followed his dad, Denver didn’t mind. He’d been proud of his son, would clap him on the back and ruffle his hair and cuff him playfully.

Most of his mates had envied him, having a dad so cool. And he’d idolised Denver, loved everything about him from his raucous belly laughs to his booming voice, his unerring ability to command a room just by being in it to his generosity with money.

He’d only learned later it was easy to be generous with money that wasn’t yours.

And their close father-son bond only made what his dad had done all the harder to accept.

He released her, annoyed she hadn’t lost the horrified look.

‘That’s not very charitable. How did we go from coffee to get out?’

She gnawed on a gloriously full bottom lip, eyeing him as if she half expected he’d ransack the entire showroom contents and abscond.

‘On second thoughts, you’re coming with me.’ She grabbed his arm and dragged him towards a black filigree wrought-iron door with a winding staircase behind it. ‘You need your butt kicked and I’m just the woman to do it.’

For someone who hadn’t had much to smile about lately, he found himself unable to stop the slow grin stretching his disused facial muscles.

He’d like to see her try.

* * *

Ruby was a spontaneous, roll-with-the-punches kinda gal but dragging Jax Maroney up the stairs and into her apartment for interrogation threw her.

From all accounts the guy had fled Melbourne years ago, eager to escape the fallout from his father’s incarceration.

While there’d been no hint of criminal behaviour tainting Jax, how much had he seen and done?

Rumours had been rife during the trial. Had Jax known about the embezzlement? Had he laundered money like his dad had? Had he stashed away a small fortune untouchable by the law? Had he helped his mum disappear?

She hadn’t followed the news but her mum had been outraged by the thought of a renowned criminal like Denver Maroney having access to high-society money, friends’ money, and swindling the lot.

As for Jackie, Jax’s mum, Mathilda Seaborn had raised her nose in the air and forbidden either of her daughters to speak of her again. Being duped by a criminal was one thing. Being betrayed by one of their own another.

How Jax had ended up CEO of a profitable mining company in Western Australia, a mining company driving her family business into the ground, was what she had every intention of finding out.

Learning his identity, she now understood the hint of danger emanating from him—and understood her unlikely attraction.

She’d always had a thing for bad boys.

She unlocked the door to her apartment and flung it open, giving him a none too gentle shove inside before slamming it and whirling to face him.

Stepping into her sanctuary comforted her: the funky Indian floor cushions in turquoise and tangerine, the fresh fuchsia gerberas stuck in mismatched coloured bottles serving as vases, the aromatherapy candles littering every available surface.

Not tonight. Tonight, she had every intention of screwing over Jax Maroney the same way he’d been doing to her family business.

‘If that’s how you treat all your guests I’ll pass on the coffee—’

‘Zip it.’ She pointed at the lowest chair, wanting him at a height disadvantage. ‘Take a seat. I’ll be back.’

He shrugged and surprisingly did as instructed, folding his six-three frame into the soft chintz. ‘Just for the record, I don’t take kindly to orders.’

His gaze started at her feet and swept upwards, deliberately lingering in places it shouldn’t. ‘But considering you’re about to slip into something more comfortable, it may be worth my while staying around.’

‘You’re obnoxious,’ she said, the sting taken out of her words by an irrepressibly smug grin at his backhanded compliment.

‘And you’re spectacular.’

Wow.

That zing of attraction between them? Zapped her in a big way.

Annoyed by her body’s betrayal when she had a business score to settle, she flounced out of the room. Not that she’d ever flounced in her life but going up against Jax Maroney brought out the worst in her.

She wanted to rattle him as much as he rattled her but something behind those coal-black eyes, an inner resistance combined with formidable will, told her she wished for the impossible.

Propping open her bedroom door with a shoe, she kept an eye on him through the slit while grabbing the nearest change of clothes she could find.

‘Don’t make yourself comfortable—you won’t be staying long,’ she said, slithering out of the emerald satin, kicking off her stilettos and gratefully slipping into a zigzag-patterned strapless jumpsuit.

‘And here I was, thinking the renowned Seaborns would be hospitable and gracious.’

As she tugged the ruched elastic bodice of the jumpsuit up, her blood chilled. He knew about her family.

The question was, how much?

Did he know her dad had died when she’d been in her early teens? That her mum had carried on the family business ever since, building it into Australia’s premier jewellers? That Sapphie had juggled modelling and spokeswoman duties while studying for a business degree and master’s part-time? That she’d loved being the younger sister with less responsibility and more recreation time?

The familiar guilt at her extensive social life while her sister had borne the burden of making Seaborn’s flourish niggled at her once again.

She’d been irresponsible and carefree while Sapphie took on too much and ended up sick.

No more.

She snatched out the clip holding her loose chignon in place and ran her fingers through her hair. She liked loose and muss. She didn’t like uptight and controlled. Like her unwelcome guest.

When she stepped out of her bedroom, her wary gaze collided with his, the instant ping of attraction zapping her synapses, making a mockery of her self-professed dislike.

‘Zebra stripes? Interesting outfit.’ Amusement quirked the corners of his mouth and she resisted the urge to tug at the bodice again. ‘Rather fitting, what with zebras being an endangered species and all.’

Like Seaborn’s hung unsaid between them and she glared at him.

‘You’re not here for a fashion critique.’ She marched across the room and sat opposite him, tucking her bare feet beneath her. ‘And you’re skipping the coffee.’

His deliberately blasé expression didn’t flicker but she noted coiled tension in his fingers digging into the chintz.

‘Then why am I here?’ He instilled enough innuendo into his silky tone to make her pulse leap.

‘That’s easy.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘So I can tell you exactly what I think of your business practices and to ensure you stay the hell away from Seaborn’s.’

Jax settled into the prissy chair, draping an arm across the back and extending his legs, crossed at the ankles.

If his silence didn’t provoke Ruby, his deliberately relaxed posture would, and he scored a direct hit as her eyes narrowed, sparking green fire.

He’d learned from managing a variety of workers in the outback that it was easier to let angry people rave, purging it from their system, rather than interrupt or stem the flow and exacerbate the situation.

Besides, he was curious. How had she learned of his proposed takeover of Seaborn’s? Better still, what did a capricious, eccentric blonde think she could do about it?

His research had been thorough. Seaborn’s was heavily in the red and no amount of flashy collection launches or handcrafted necklaces could save it.

‘Aren’t you going to say something? Defend yourself?’

‘Why, when you’re saying enough for the both of us?’ He flashed a self-righteous smile designed to infuriate her.

By the frown slashing her brow, it worked. ‘Your mine is undercutting ours,’ she accused. ‘Selling gems at bargain-basement prices and we can’t compete. We’re a small mine supplying a family business, your mine is supplying the mega jewellery chains selling lesser-quality pieces. Cheaper prices attract more customers despite the quality.’

The corners of her mouth drooped. ‘You’re killing us.’

He didn’t blink at her sob story. He’d given up on emotional appeals a long time ago.

Deliberately taunting her, he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.

Her lips compressed in a thin, unimpressed line. ‘That better not be what I think it is.’

‘What do you think it is?’

‘The world’s smallest violin.’

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her mutinous expression. ‘Smart and spectacular.’

She swore at him and he just laughed harder.

‘Don’t take this personally, but I came here tonight to see your sister to discuss a business proposition.’

She shook her head, blonde waves tumbling over her shoulders in a tempting gold swath. ‘She’s not interested.’

‘She hasn’t heard what I have to say.’

She squared her shoulders. ‘I’m in charge for the next few months so whatever you have to say, you’ll have to say it to me.’

‘You?’

She bristled at his derisive tone and he couldn’t blame her. But did she honestly think he’d do business with a bohemian waif, albeit a creative genius by what he’d glimpsed tonight, when he knew for a fact Sapphire was the brains behind this outfit?

‘Sapphie is taking three months off, doctor’s orders, so I’m filling in.’

Three months? He didn’t have ninety days to seal this deal. He had a few weeks max before Seaborn’s financials plummeted further and it wasn’t worth his company’s investment to acquire them.

The seriousness of the situation suddenly hit him. He couldn’t lose out on this opportunity, not when acquiring the Seaborn mine would establish Maroney Mine’s complete domination along the entire western seaboard.

And guarantee a strong foothold into the east—and the rest.

He’d returned to Melbourne for one reason only. To take Maroney Mine all the way to the top. Global. Nothing and no one would stand in his way.

He needed that mine. Needed it for vindication, needed it for safety, needed it to prove he was nothing whatsoever like his father.

He steepled his fingers and rested them on his chest. ‘In that case, boss lady, name your price.’

Surprise widened her eyes. ‘For?’

‘Seaborn Mine.’

She laughed, a brittle sound devoid of amusement. ‘Dream on.’

He sat forward and braced his elbows on his knees. ‘On the contrary, you’re the one who’s dreaming if you think for one second you have what it takes to achieve what your sister couldn’t.’

Her hands clenched into fists. ‘What’s that?’

‘Make Seaborn’s a success.’

He only just managed to duck an incoming book.

* * *

Ruby didn’t have a violent bone in her body.

Well, maybe one, considering she’d grabbed the nearest thing handy, a brilliant dystopian thriller, and flung it at Jax Maroney’s insufferably big head.

Pity she’d never been good at sports and her aim missed.

‘That’s quite a temper you’ve got.’ He picked up the book and scanned the back blurb with slow deliberation, giving her time to compose herself.

It didn’t work. Fury flushed her cheeks and she pressed her palms against them in an attempt to cool herself down, dragging in calming breaths until she trusted herself to speak.

‘And that’s quite an imagination you have.’ She lowered her hands, clasped them tightly in her lap, and shook her head. ‘Buying out Seaborn’s? You’ve got to be kidding.’

He stood so fast her head snapped back. ‘I don’t joke. Or have time for games.’

He stepped around the scarred antique coffee table she’d picked up at a Brunswick Street second-hand dealer and towered over her.

As if she’d stand for cheap intimidation tricks.

She leapt to her feet and stood toe to toe. Pity his six-three trumped her five-eight as she momentarily wished she’d kept her heels on.

‘If you’re as smart as your sister, you’ll understand Seaborn’s has a month or two tops to survive before you go under.’

His mouth curved into an infuriatingly sardonic grin, like a croc toying with a wingless chicken on the banks of a river. ‘I’m giving you a profitable way out. You get to keep making your precious jewellery, and all that changes is that I own you.’

Her palm itched to wipe his smirk as he amended, ‘Well, I own your mine.’

The pit of her stomach griped at her family business’s perilous position, but she’d be damned if she let him know how tempting his offer sounded.

‘I have one answer for you.’

The triumphant glint in his eyes made her response all the sweeter.

‘When hell freezes over.’

CHAPTER THREE

IT TOOK a good ten minutes of pacing the showroom after Jax left for Ruby’s blood pressure to lower.

She’d never been prone to rage or theatrics but in the last half-hour she’d almost succumbed to both.

Who the hell did Jax Maroney think he was?

She’d been so irate over his offer she’d forgotten to ask how he’d got onto the exclusive invite-only guest list. Probably greased someone’s palm, like his dear old dad.

Unfair? Maybe, but she wasn’t in a forgiving mood. Livid, she snatched the evening’s inventory list from behind the chrome counter and scanned it again, hoping a few more gold foil sale stickers would’ve miraculously appeared since she’d checked it with Opal.

Nope, still the same glaring truth: they’d barely made enough tonight to cover their gem costs.

Her fingers convulsed, crumpling the paper, and she threw it back on the counter.

Tears of helplessness burned as she stared at the inventory list, taking time to smooth it flat so Opal wouldn’t guess how bad things really were.

Her cousin had stepped in to help when Sapphie had been ordered by the medicos to have time off, leaving behind her precious mine to become general dogsbody around here.

She couldn’t have kept the place going without Opal’s help and had planned on giving her a generous gift—a matching opal ring and bracelet—when her stint finished.

The way things were going, she wouldn’t be able to afford even the setting, let alone the rare black opals she had in mind.

Her gut twisted as she slid open the top drawer behind the counter and extracted an envelope. She weighed it in her hand, tapping it against her palm, as reluctant to open it now as she had been earlier this afternoon when it had been delivered.

She didn’t want to spoil the launch; that had been her excuse then. So what was her excuse now?

Out of options, she slid her finger beneath the flap and ripped, wishing she could tear up the contents before she read it. But disposing of it wouldn’t change facts: Seaborn’s was mortgaged up to the hilt and needed a cash injection fast.

The bank’s letterhead taunted her as she glanced at the document, the exorbitant figures swimming before her eyes.

She didn’t blame Sapphie for mortgaging the title on the showroom and her apartment to pay for their mum’s exorbitant medical bills. She would’ve done the same if she’d known the truth, anything to buy them time and a chance at saving the business.

Now, with creditors baying for repayments, they were in danger of losing the one thing Sapphie had promised their mother they would save.

She couldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t.

There had to be something she could do.

With a heavy heart, she trudged into her workroom tucked away in the far right corner. She couldn’t create, not in this bleak mood, but she had sorting to do.

Best she keep busy. She wouldn’t sleep tonight anyway.

* * *

Jax opened the door to his apartment, shoved his iPod into the docking station and hit play.

He reeled back from a blast of bass. Good. He needed loud. Louder the better to drown out his thoughts.

The noise filled the apartment as he walked along a marble-tiled hallway, the decibels hitting eardrum-shattering levels in the open lounge.

The beat pounded through him. Hard. Harsh.

Yeah, he needed this, needed to obliterate the tension of the last few hours.

He flung his suit jacket onto the couch, stalked across to the bar, poured himself a double-shot whiskey and sculled it.

The deafening riffs spilling from a state-of-the-art surround-sound system matched his mood. Raucous. Discordant. Abrasive.

He slammed the glass down, the blaring noise a perfect match for his inner darkness.

He would’ve rather flung the glass at the nearest wall and watched it shatter with a ‘screw you, you stuck-up snobs’.

Being professionally snubbed by his fellow corporate mining giants tonight had seriously rankled.

Personally, he didn’t care what the high society his father had ripped off thought of him, but he needed them to expand his business and that meant attending functions like tonight.

A major pain in the ass.

He needed to re-enter their business circles, needed to convince them he was nothing like his morally corrupt father. Schmoozing the upper echelon of corporate Melbourne was a necessary evil for what he had planned with Maroney Mine expanding beyond the west coast.

But the way they’d looked at him earlier, as if he was the worse kind of scum... Damn it, how could he score business meetings with a hostile crowd who wouldn’t even acknowledge him?

He braced himself against the window sill, oblivious to the million-dollar view of Melbourne many storeys below, tension bunching his shoulders.

He deliberately played techno-punk-grunge when he was this wound up. No lyrics. All racket. Music far removed from his parents’ favourites, Bruce Springsteen and Bon Jovi.

Great, just what he didn’t need after the evening he’d had, thinking about his folks.

He’d been doing a lot of it lately with Denver’s appeal looming and the constant media harassment begging him for any snippets he could provide. While he’d told them to shove it—in more polite terms, of course—he half expected his mum to show up to vouch for the old crook.

He couldn’t fathom why a beautiful, wealthy woman like Jacqueline Blaise had stuck by his deceitful dad following his arrest when the ugly truth had finally spilled out.

Until her double betrayal. Then everything became frighteningly clear.

He’d been twenty-four when Denver had been jailed for embezzling millions, when he’d known deep in his heart that Jackie had also been an accessory despite the police never finding proof of her culpability.

She’d introduced Denver to her rich friends.

She’d cultivated a high-society clique that included Denver despite knowing the criminal background he’d come from. Apparently Denver’s own father had been murdered in a drug deal gone wrong, a petty criminal trying to rip off a dealer.

His folks never talked of it but Jax had looked it up on the Net when he was thirteen, after he’d overheard Gran berating Jackie for her shoddy taste in men. After reading the full story on his grandfather, Jax remembered feeling relieved that his dad was nothing like that.

What a joke.

His mum also hadn’t blinked twice about helping Denver rip off her moneyed friends, people her family had known for decades.

And with Denver incarcerated, she’d simply waltzed out of Jax’s life without a backward glance.

The mother he’d trusted, the mother he’d loved, gone, just like that.

Now, ten years later, Denver had drummed up another appeal and he wouldn’t be surprised if Jackie came back.

Not only had Jax’s love for his mother taken a serious hit, but he’d lost respect for her too. How could he not, when she buzzed around his charismatic father no matter what he did, yet didn’t give a stuff about her only child and had severed contact with him for a decade?

He’d dealt with her treachery years ago and had finally moved on, but it galled him that Denver had once again raised his ugly head at a time when Jax was finally on top.

Maroney Mine had flourished and he thanked a nebulous god every day his maternal grandmother had put the mine in his name the moment he hit twenty-five.

Wily Gran had hated her daughter’s penchant for ‘scrubbed-up bad boys’ and rather than leave Jackie everything in her will she’d distributed her assets.

He’d been striving to make a success of the mine ever since, no thanks to the adverse publicity from Denver’s trial and criminal ties, and his father’s constant quest to make headlines. Regular magazine interviews, rumours of ring-leading gambling syndicates within jail and a tell-all biography had ensured the Maroney name remained front and centre in the media—for all the wrong reasons.