A Taste of Sin

Swallowing down her fury that anybody could be so reprehensible, she stiffly folded her arms. ‘I wouldn’t dream of advising anyone what’s best for them, because I clearly don’t know. I’m not a businesswoman...I’m an antiques dealer. However, I do know my boss Philip, and how much this antiques business means to him. He’s impressed upon me more than once that he wants to sell it as a going concern, so I would be failing in my duty if I didn’t adhere to that. On his behalf, I thank you for your interest but our meeting is over. I’ll see you to the door.’

‘Not so fast.’

As he rose immediately to his feet it wasn’t hard for Rose to detect that Gene Bonnaire was more than a little thrown off balance by her refusal to sell. He was holding on to his temper by a thread.

The expensive cologne he wore again stirred the air, reminding her that the moneyed and elite world he inhabited was light years away from hers and that he hadn’t expected an argument. But on this occasion, Rose was determined to stand her ground...

‘Look, I didn’t come here to waste my time or yours,’ he went on. ‘I came here for one reason and one reason only: to purchase a listed building that I understood was up for sale. If you won’t sell the premises to me then perhaps you’d reconsider your decision if I agree to purchase the antiques as well? I don’t doubt some of them might be valuable to an ardent collector.’

The comment was hardly encouraging. He might just as well have referred to the collector as misguided rather than ardent. Rose didn’t have to guess how appalled Philip would be if he knew that Gene didn’t want to purchase the antiques for their beauty and historical significance, or even because he might be considering continuing the business after all, but only because he was thinking about their monetary worth.

‘Indeed, some of them are extremely valuable,’ she confirmed. ‘But unfortunately your remark illustrates to me exactly what you asserted earlier...you have no interest whatsoever in antiques. That being the case, I’m not inclined to consider your offer any further, Mr Bonnaire.’

Extracting a leather wallet from the inside pocket of the impeccably tailored jacket he wore, the businessman took out a card and threw it down onto the desk. The blue eyes that Rose had noted could be icy had turned even more glacial.

‘When you’ve had some time to think things over—meaning when you can make a far less emotional decision about the matter, Rose—I don’t doubt you’ll want to get in touch with me to discuss a sale. In the meantime, I’ll say au revoir.’

As he spoke Rose found herself yet again uncomfortably captured by his mocking glance, and she thanked her lucky stars that the man was going. Yet as her gaze followed him to the door in truth she didn’t know whether or not to be pleased she’d stood her ground—whether the decision she’d made was the right one or not...

* * *

Back in his Mayfair office, after the tedious round of meetings he’d chaired that afternoon, Gene asked his secretary to get him some coffee and sank down into his high-backed leather chair to mull over the day’s events. He didn’t think he had ever felt more irritable and out of sorts, and it was all down to his offer being refused on that damn property.

He’d admired the architecture of the Thames-side building for years, and had often thought it would make the most fantastic restaurant should he buy it. He didn’t envisage it as an addition to the more commercial restaurants he already owned, but saw it as the kind of exclusive place that the glitterati liked to frequent. Just like the two esteemed establishments he owned in New York and Paris.

Recalling his meeting with Rose Heathcote, Gene mused that it was beyond his understanding how she couldn’t see what a gold-edged opportunity to capitalise on his assets he had given her boss. Most people would have ripped his arm off to take it. But one thing had become eminently clear to him... Just as she had said, Rose was no businesswoman. Her attitude had really irked him. Especially when he’d seen that she wasn’t going to be easily influenced by any amount of charm he might utilise. Yet part of him admired the brunette for her determination to stand firm even though he knew she was wrong.

And there was something else about her that had caught his attention. She had the most startlingly beautiful violet eyes. Her glossy black hair and ivory-coloured skin made them even more captivating. The passion he’d seen in their mesmerising depths had intrigued him and made him want to get to know her, even though she’d denied him the chance to purchase the property. But, as was his modus operandi when faced with situations or outcomes he didn’t like, Gene knew he would immediately work to turn it to his advantage.

Yes...he would step right back into the breach and make his purchase of the building a foregone conclusion. He wouldn’t be satisfied until it was his. Rose could take a couple of days’ sober reflection on what a mistake she’d made in turning him down, then Gene would get back to her with an offer that he knew her boss simply couldn’t refuse.

If he could have some more time with her and assure her that he was respectful of the gracious building’s admirable history, had always admired it and only sought to elevate it by housing his restaurant there, he didn’t doubt he could persuade her to convince Philip Houghton that selling the building to one of the country’s richest entrepreneurs wasn’t just a good idea...it was the only one that would take it off his hands and make him enough money to see him right for the rest of his life.

But just then, somewhere deep inside him, Gene couldn’t help feeling disturbed that he’d so easily dismissed the other man’s welfare in the belief that money was the answer to his problems. Even his parents had counselled him on that once.

‘Son, you can’t always fix someone’s pain by throwing money at the problem. No amount of money or good fortune made it any easier for us to endure the devastation of your sister’s death. Don’t forget that.’

The memory jolted him, and for a few disturbing seconds he felt as if a grenade had been thrown into the room. But now wasn’t the time to reflect on how much his sister’s death had nearly broken him...

He squared his shoulders. He and his parents saw life very differently. Gene saw practical solutions to adversity while they succumbed to their emotions and allowed their feelings to dictate how they responded... The idea of behaving in the same way was anathema to him. He’d heard his parents’ stories about their poor upbringings, how their own parents and siblings had suffered terribly when there hadn’t been the means to put food on the table or to have adequate heat and light, and how many nights they had gone to bed hungry... From a tender age he’d intuited how essential it was to have money, and as he’d grown older, having discovered that he had a talent for making it with ease, he wasn’t about to relinquish it—not for anyone.

Pleased that he’d come up with a plan to help him win the beautiful old property—a plan he was convinced would work because he never, never entertained the possibility of failure—Gene got to his feet, straightened his tie and strode out through the door.

Stopping at the desk of his blonde, statuesque secretary, Simone, whose cousin was an up-and-coming Parisian designer—and frankly that was why he’d given her the job...because it always paid to utilise his assets—he flashed her a warmer smile than usual and said, ‘Forget the coffee, ma chère, and book me a table for dinner at my club for eight o’clock.’

‘Will you be taking a guest with you, Mr Bonnaire?’

‘No, Simone. Not tonight.’

‘Then I will ring the maître d’ straight away and arrange for you to have your favourite table.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You are most welcome. It always makes me glad when I can do something to please you and make your life a little easier.’

The woman’s glossy pink lips curved in a smile that was definitely inviting.

Gene’s fleetingly good mood instantly vanished. Scowling, he said, ‘In that case you won’t mind doing some overtime tonight, will you? I’ve left a “to do” list on my desk for you. Goodnight, Simone. I will see you in the morning.’

He was more irritated than usual with the blonde’s obsequious manner. She hadn’t been working for him for very long, but he didn’t need to be a genius to know that she was only too aware of how to use her best assets...especially as she clearly thought it was only a matter of time before he would bed her... Just yesterday he had overheard her stating the fact, not very discreetly, to someone on her mobile.

Waiting impatiently for the elevator to arrive, he muttered savagely beneath his breath, ‘God save me from predatory women!’

CHAPTER TWO

LONG AFTER HER MEETING, and still stinging from her encounter with the mercurial force of nature that was Gene Bonnaire, Rose couldn’t help but be interested in what drove the man to be the way he was. He clearly hadn’t liked her decision not to sell the shop to him. Her refusal had really grated on him, because he obviously wasn’t used to being denied when he’d set his sights on something that he wanted.

Knowing that he was a restaurateur, and that he wanted the building for one of his establishments, that night she went home and did some more research.

Rose discovered that Gene was one of the richest men in Europe and had made his fortune by turning a once small French restaurant in East London called Mangez Bien into a well-known chain that had spread across the globe. The original restaurant had been owned by Gene’s parents. They were both French immigrants, who’d settled in London when they were young and had turned their love of cooking and food into owning a much loved eatery that had been patronised by a devoted local clientele.

By the time their son had turned seventeen, so the story went, he was already a fine chef whose ambitions far exceeded his parents’ own. He had progressed from being Head Chef at one of London’s finest hotels to becoming an astute entrepreneur who had started to establish restaurants of his own. But as he’d begun to build an empire of affordable French restaurants he had also acquired a reputation for being quite ruthless in his business dealings.

Rose already knew he didn’t like being denied...

Leaning back in her chair, she studied the photograph that her computer had helpfully supplied. It had been taken at a prestigious awards ceremony in LA, and even though the picture of him couldn’t help but be flattering, to her mind it didn’t depict any pleasure at his being at the event, nor at having received an award. Instead, the man’s immense dissatisfaction was clear. It emanated from Gene’s steely blue eyes in forbidding icy waves...

He doesn’t look even remotely pleased, she mused. And he was probably even less pleased since she’d turned down his offer.

The headline of the article onscreen read, The man who has everything once again strikes gold.

‘Hmph,’ Rose muttered out loud. ‘That doesn’t mean that any of what he’s got makes him happy. Something must be bugging him...something he doesn’t like to talk about.’

Was it anything to do with his father not being able to afford a real diamond and pearl ring for his mother in the early days when they were starting to establish their business? Why else had he told Rose that it was only costume jewellery? Had it made him feel insecure? She remembered the flicker of pain that had accompanied his remark. But surely he wasn’t still burdened by the memory? Was he sad that once upon a time his parents had struggled...that not everything had been as easy for them as it had for their son?

Wearily dragging her fingers through her pixie cut short hair, she sighed. Why was Gene Bonnaire at the forefront of her thoughts when she still had to face her boss and tell him that she’d turned down the Frenchman’s offer?

She would have done anything to spare him the disappointment and distress the news would undoubtedly bring him, and could only hope he would see that her motivation had been to do what was right by him. After all, he’d been there for her when her father had passed away, staying by his bedside with Rose until he breathed his last breath... The last thing he needed now, when he was so ill, was to be put under pressure to sell the antiques shop to someone who didn’t have the first idea about what it meant to him...

Switching off her computer, she stood up and stretched. Annoyed that she’d wasted even more time thinking about Gene Bonnaire, she went into her living room to collect the book she’d been reading. It was a hefty tome all about the Aztecs, with a fascinating chapter on the magnificent jewellery worn by the emperors. There had recently been a momentous find in northern Mexico, and straight away it had fuelled Rose’s interest. She’d have loved to go and see the treasure that the archaeologists had uncovered, but she’d have to wait until it finally went on display in a prestigious gallery or museum.

Going to bed, she fell asleep with the book on her chest and dreamt disturbingly of an Aztec emperor who uncannily resembled Gene Bonnaire...

* * *

Just like an addict, desperate to buy his next fix, Gene sat in the café across the street from the antiques store and couldn’t turn his mind to anything else other than fulfilling his desire to own the gracious building he was staring at... The coffee he’d ordered had long gone cold as he restlessly contemplated going in and demanding that Rose Heathcote came to her senses and accepted the offer he’d made.

It had been three days since their meeting, and no phone call had been forthcoming to tell him that she’d had second thoughts. Maybe her boss had had a better offer from someone else? The very idea made him feel nauseous. He wanted that building as much as he wanted his next breath, and he deplored the notion that he might not get it.

Glancing down at his Rolex, he saw that he’d been sitting in the café for nigh on half an hour, hoping to catch Rose unawares. Catching someone off-guard often paid dividends, he’d found. If he’d seen her then he would have asked her out to dinner, so that they could talk amicably outside of work and get to know each other a little better. If he was able to get her to trust him then he didn’t doubt he could persuade her to sell the building to him.

But she hadn’t stepped outside even once, and in truth he was taking an unnecessary risk, sitting in the café in front of the window. Any minute now the paparazzi might turn up—and that really would ruin his day, because they were frequently on a mission to expose him as ruthless and uncaring...

Even in the early days, when he’d started to have some success, he’d realised there were more people in the world who were jealous of his achievements rather than pleased. More to the point, they were jealous of his wealth... Knowing that, he knew the press was more than eager to take him down a peg or two—no doubt so that their readers could feel a bit better about their own lives.

Suddenly impatient, he glanced upwards at the now darkening skies. Any moment now it would start to rain. He shouldn’t waste any more time sitting there, waiting for inspiration to dawn about what he should do. He’d never been someone who waited for opportunity to strike. Gene made his own opportunities.

His gaze settled on the old building again. The name of the shop was The Hidden Diamond, and to be honest he thought it a little trite. After all, he reasoned, if it was hidden then what use was it to anybody? Diamonds should be displayed to denote their owner’s wealth...not hidden away.

With a jaundiced sigh he got to his feet. The promised rain began to splatter the pavement. He was done with waiting. He was going into the shop to present Rose with a more persuasive offer. If she really cared so much about helping her boss then she ought to be relieved he was giving her a second bite of the cherry...

* * *

Rose was finishing up her bookwork when she heard the doorbell chime. Hurriedly toeing on her maroon leather flats, she tucked her cream silk blouse more securely into the waistband of her smart black skirt and left the office to deal with what she assumed was a late customer.

She should have closed up shop half an hour ago, but she’d been so immersed in cataloguing the dwindling monthly sales and wishing they were better that she hadn’t noticed the time.

Her lips automatically curved into a smile, but the gesture immediately melted away when she saw that her late caller wasn’t the customer she’d envisaged but Gene Bonnaire. She stared. What was he doing here? Forgoing a suit, he was dressed casually today, in jeans and a dove-grey T-shirt beneath a tailored black jacket. But he was no less formidable. It was raining outside, she saw, and the shoulders of his jacket glistened with moisture—as did his hair.

‘Do you usually stay open this late?’ he asked, clearly opting to dispense with any social niceties.

Tensing, Rose found herself caught in the crystalline spotlight of his disquieting blue gaze. ‘Not usually no. But I was busy doing some bookwork and didn’t notice the time. What can I do for you, Mr Bonnaire? If you were hoping to persuade me to change my mind about your offer then I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want you to waste your time.’

‘Don’t be sorry. Just let me have a few minutes with you to talk things over.’

‘To what end?’

‘Why don’t we sit down and I’ll tell you?’

Rose arched an eyebrow. ‘Like I said, I gave you my decision and I see no reason in discussing it any further.’ When Gene scowled she got the distinct impression that he was having considerable trouble remaining calm. His next words confirmed it.

‘You really have no idea about business, do you, Rose? I’d like to know why your boss, Philip Houghton, has such faith in you... Perhaps you’d enlighten me?’

Now Rose had trouble holding on to her own temper, and she had no hesitation in replying passionately, ‘Because I care about him—that’s why! I have no ulterior motive other than that I want what’s best for him. And what’s best for him is to sell the antiques business as a going concern, to someone who will love it as much as he does.’

‘That’s a nice thought...but hardly a realistic one.’

‘Did you come here just to tell me how inept you think I am, Mr Bonnaire?’ Incensed, she folded her arms. ‘Because if it makes you feel any better, then you should know that I’ve had sleepless nights about the whole thing. It would be very easy to take your offer to my boss and tell him that he’d be lucky to get another one half as good—remind him that the antiques trade isn’t what it used to be and he should just take what he can while the going’s good. But I couldn’t be so cruel. Not when I know how much the business means to him. If he was just interested in selling a beautiful period building in a very desirable area then he would have done so. But he wants the business to continue... What do you think he’d say if I accepted your offer and then told him you weren’t remotely interested in antiques?’

Gene looked thoughtful. Then he smiled. ‘I think he’d probably feel that he can’t be sentimental about it. At the end of the day, if he believes that his poor health will prohibit his return to work, no doubt he will need the money to help pay for his care. Surely that’s the priority here?’

What he said made perfect sense and, suddenly unsure, Rose felt tears of frustration surge into her eyes.

Gene all but covered the distance between them in less than a couple of strides, and as before the air stirred hypnotically with the exotic scent of his expensive cologne.

‘You’re upset. Is there anything I can do? Why don’t we go into the office and I’ll get you a cup of tea?’

‘I don’t want tea. All I want is... All I want is for you to go away!’ Her outburst sounded embarrassingly childish even to her own ears... So much for keeping her composure. Rose wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.

But the man in front of her didn’t go away. He didn’t even look remotely put out. The dazzling blue eyes that she knew could turn forbiddingly cold when he was angry were now inexplicably warm...tender, even. He lifted his hand to touch her arm gently. Her heart thudded quietly as she felt his smooth skin brush against her own.

‘Your boss gave you a tough job when he asked you to sell the business for him, Rose—perhaps too tough. I don’t mean this as a criticism, but I can see that it’s not where your skills lie... I’ve already learned that it’s the job you love—being with the artefacts and learning about their history. More than that, you like discovering the personal stories behind them. You’re a people person, Rose...not a businesswoman.’

She realised the man had an almost uncanny knack of knowing what a person was about. But she didn’t want to let him see even for a second that his astute insight perturbed her. Surely Gene Bonnaire had enough advantages without her giving him any more...namely the fact that she could so easily warm to him, when everything in her told her it would be a mistake that would undoubtedly cost her dear...

‘That might be the case, and I know my forte isn’t in the world of business—I told you that before. But my love of antiques and understanding what they mean to people also makes me understand why my boss, Philip, wants to sell the business as a going concern. I think it means even more to him since he’s become ill. He’s taught me so much about the trade, and that’s why I want to get the best deal for him.’

‘That’s also why you should give me a little bit more of your time and listen to what I have to say, Rose.’

‘Why? Are you going to tell me that you’ve decided to take on the business after all?’

Gene was already shaking his head. ‘No. I’m sorry I have to disappoint you, but I won’t be getting involved in that side of things. I haven’t changed my mind about that.’

‘Then how can I possibly be interested in listening any more to what you have to say, Mr Bonnaire?’

‘If you’d do me the courtesy of having dinner with me tonight, I’ll explain.’

Even as she guessed that most women would be surprised and pleased by such an invitation—not to mention immensely flattered—Rose defiantly lifted her chin to indicate that she wasn’t one of them. ‘Thank you, but I’m going to have to decline.’

‘You have a previous engagement?’

‘No, but—’

‘You don’t want to hear what I have to say, even though it might be to your boss’s advantage?’

‘How can it possibly be to his advantage? You’ve already said that you’re not interested in the business...that you only want the building.’

Gene Bonnaire’s steely-eyed gaze didn’t waver for so much as a second as he examined her, and it was easy to guess he’d hoped to have the upper hand.

‘Like I said, Rose... Have dinner with me tonight and all will be explained.’

Prickling with unease, she sensed herself flush heatedly. ‘You’re just playing games—and I don’t trust men who play games. If you have something to say that you know for a fact my boss will be interested in, then why don’t you just come right out and say it?’

‘Very well, then, although I’m sad that you won’t agree to dinner, and just to reassure you, Rose, I’m not playing games. It’s just that it has been my experience that all the best deals are made over a cordon bleu meal and a fine bottle of wine.’

One corner of the handsome Frenchman’s mouth lifted in a smile that would make most women—young, old and in between—ache to be close to him in the most intimate way... And even though Rose was quite aware that he was using his charm to get what he wanted, she was hardly immune to the idea.

‘Is that right? Well, I’m afraid that’s not been my experience.’