скачать книгу бесплатно
‘The champagne is good,’ he finally spoke again—quiet, colourless.
She nodded, hoping for a lightening of the atmosphere. No way could he find fault with her taste. ‘Cristal.’
‘And the decoration on the napkins for the caviar—what’s that?’
‘Real gold leaf.’ She managed to get her voice higher than a thread that time.
He grunted. Maybe it was a snort. Either way it didn’t sound positive. ‘So tell me.’
Tell him what? Hell, this was such a nightmare and he was stringing it out.
‘How much?’ he asked, as if it were obvious.
‘Pardon?’
‘How much did this party cost me?’
‘Um.’ She didn’t want to admit she hadn’t got all the bills and receipts together yet. In truth she didn’t know what most of them would be.
‘Do you even know what the budget for this was?’
Budget? Oh, right. There had been a spreadsheet in the file James had mentioned. She hadn’t really got round to studying it. ‘I didn’t—’
‘What, think?’
Damn it, she’d done nothing but think about this party. ‘You said you wanted the best.’
‘You have no idea, do you, princess? A modern-day Marie Antoinette—utterly clueless.’
‘James, I…’ have no idea what to say.
‘Good thing I’m a wealthy man and can carry the blow.’ He looked, his eyes skimming over her, all dreaded sarcasm and nil humour. ‘You seriously need to grow up, Elissa.’
She bit hard on the inside of her lip. She’d heard that one before—from her father, from her brothers. But it was different this time.
She was not going to cry. Not going to. Not going to act like the spoilt, sulky girl he thought she was. She’d take the caning like a professional. And cry later.
He was serious. And she knew it was all over. This wasn’t something she could laugh off with a flippant comment. And for once she didn’t want to. She felt terrible. She’d let him down. She’d let herself down.
She really was a waste of space.
‘I’m sorry, James.’
He stared at her, definitely no forgiveness or ease in those hard, dark eyes. No sign of the golden lights. He didn’t reply, just stalked out of the room.
CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_eb51c6f0-2df6-54a7-9630-1e3f8e42936b)
JAMES practised a relaxed smile all the short walk back to the ballroom. Failed. Knew he was snarl central. He stopped just outside the room and took in a deep breath. A drink. That’d help. He collared a waiter. The expensive bubbles hit the spot but didn’t soothe quite the way he wanted. He could feel the steam coming out of his ears. It wasn’t just the wasted opportunity for coverage that had him riled. It was her—if anything he was even madder because she’d been so close to succeeding. He looked around. It was one damn impressive party. From the guest list, to the catering, she had arranged the best for the best.
And yet she’d forgotten the basics. He wanted to shake her.
She arrived back in the ballroom a few minutes after him. Looked a little flushed, headed to the other side of the room—soon in conversation with several guests.
He looked away then. Got to working some guests too—there was much that could be salvaged from the evening and he might as well get something out of it. A few hours passed and he steered well clear of her, knowing both his temper and temperature would stay cooking on high if he saw too much of her.
But she wouldn’t leave his mind—and his frustration rumbled.
Eventually he caught sight of her quietly discussing something with one of the waiters. Angry as he was with her, he didn’t like to see her so subdued. The sparkle had gone. The smile was still there but he could see the hint of strain. The flush had faded; now she was pale.
If only she’d made the media arrangements. It would have been a perfect night. She would have been so thrilled—and rightly so. He’d wanted her to taste that satisfaction, to know she’d done a good job and was capable of success.
Then he’d wanted to see her satisfied in a whole other, deeply personal, deeply physical, way.
He still wanted both to happen.
He didn’t like that it wasn’t going to be tonight.
Damn it, despite everything he still wanted to rip the dress from her and feel her warm and naked against him. Why did she have to be so bloody attractive?
He took a stroll about the room, trying to get to simmer level and not still be on rapid boil. But there was only one way to rid himself of this energy.
Unable to resist, he looked again. Now she was talking with some guests. She was aware of his scrutiny; he could tell by the way she stiffened slightly. But she wouldn’t look him in the eye. He didn’t like that either.
Time to work out solutions to both problems.
Would there never be an end to this hideous nightmare? All around her beautiful people ate beautiful food, had fabulous conversations and partied while inside Liss felt as alive as petrified wood.
She talked to a few local socialites, all wanting to regale her with all the gossip, and wanting to get more from her—about Cassie and Sebastian’s relationship especially. Liss clammed up—Cassie and her brother had a right to privacy, had been through enough already. And the mention of Cassie’s name only made her feel worse. She still hadn’t been able to see her.
They asked about Sydney—and she found she couldn’t share much about that either. As they were getting nothing from her, the women’s conversation strayed onto royal affairs—literally.
‘You’ve heard the latest one—that your father had an affair with a palace maid?’ one beauty asked rather gleefully.
Her father, King Aegeus. The uncomfortable lump in her chest expanded. She’d hardly known him—the only times he’d shown interest in her in recent years was when he’d expressed his displeasure at her pursuits. She’d genuinely grieved at his death—for the relationship that could have been as much as for the life that had passed. She knew she’d missed out. He’d missed out too.
This new rumour annoyed her—maybe she got the gene for inappropriate lust from him. And the tales the women were telling only reminded her that tonight the dirt-dishing media wolves weren’t here, and they should be.
‘You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,’ Liss snapped. ‘You should know that.’
There was a momentary silence, which Liss filled by simply having a long sip of her champagne. Not that it helped.
‘Is that your boss?’ one woman asked, looking over to Liss’s right. ‘Wow. He looks intense.’
‘He looks hot,’ said another.
Liss knew he was looking their way but she refused to look back. Instead she punished herself more by answering, ‘Yes. And he’s single. Why not go introduce yourselves?’
Slowly, after several long hours, the guests left. At last she could sneak away and shrivel up in peace.
Or not. As she made her way to the door James called her to him, the first time he’d spoken to her since he’d torn strips off her. Bracing herself, she walked over, looked into his darkly handsome face. To her surprise he was actually smiling. ‘It’s well after midnight. Going to start emptying those bottles now?’
And fire up her inner ‘wild child’? Not now, possibly never again. But she wasn’t going to show him how much tonight had affected her.
‘Maybe a few, yes.’ All bravado again. Maybe she should have a few dozen. Get blotto and wipe out all memory of this cursed night. But she knew it wouldn’t work. She’d never forget this nightmare.
‘Come finish one with me, then.’
Surely he was kidding? But he picked up a couple of glasses from a waiter and lifted, not a half-empty one, but a whole bottle of champagne. Carrying the lot in one large hand, he took her arm with his other and she pretty much had no choice but to walk the way he guided.
‘Right.’She choked. ‘Why not?’Her smile was half strangled and she felt like the damned going to dine with the executioner.
They left the ballroom—now almost empty except for waiting staff starting the big clean-up. Her heels sank a little on the thickly carpeted hallway. And even though the elevator whisked them up to the top floor with incredible smoothness, her stomach felt as if she’d been on an extreme roller coaster. And in the silence her heart beat louder than twenty drums in a marching band. And to make it all worse she felt dangerously close to tears.
He swiped his key card and ushered her into the penthouse suite. Gleaming marble tiles led to a kitchen, to a bathroom. Other doors must lead to bedrooms.
In the large lounge he’d set up office and it was to the desk that he headed, setting the glasses down and filling them. He held one out to her. She took a sip and he left his on the desk. ‘So.’
She clutched the glass, stepped back and tried not to stare as he shrugged out of his jacket and put his shoulders even more on display in the fine white shirt. ‘I won’t bother coming back to Sydney with you. I can have my stuff packed and shipped.’
He leaned back on the desk, legs stretching out long in front of him. ‘Are you resigning?’
‘I thought it was too late for that.’
‘I haven’t fired you, princess. Not yet.’
‘Oh.’ What on earth was she going to do for him now? Be the tea lady? It would only take one hour of that occupation before he’d turf her out of it. Hell, she couldn’t even make a decent coffee.
He wouldn’t take his eyes off her. ‘You blew the budget, you failed to invite half the necessary people, you totally screwed up the point of the party, but other than that it was an OK night.’
The vague compliment tacked onto the litany of failures got to her. An OK night? OK? For everyone else in that room it had been brilliant. And he knew it. Her defence mechanisms slowly started to crank up.
‘I’ll give you one last chance.’
She didn’t know whether to be pleased or to laugh in his face. ‘Last chance?’ Didn’t he get it yet? She’d failed. She was never going to ‘get’ this.
His stance looked indolent but his eyes were intent. ‘Do it again.’
‘Pardon?’ She just wasn’t following his conversation.
‘I want another party. Bigger, better. With everyone we need here.’
Her attention snapped to his words.
‘You have a quarter of the original budget and one week to do it.’
Another party? Another gala ball with all those people plus the media? With no money? ‘You’re kidding.’
‘That’s what I want. That’s what you’ll do.’
‘I can’t do it. Do you know how hard it was to get all those flowers shipped here? I can’t repeat any of it. Most of the guests will be the same. They’ll expect different. They’ll expect more.’
‘You better come up with something else, then, hadn’t you? Something better. Something cheaper. Something quick.’
She stared. The full reality of what he was asking hit her. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered.
He stood, drawing up to his full height, and walked nearer. ‘I didn’t think you’d be one to turn down a challenge, princess.’
There were challenges and there was asking the impossible.
But as he came closer her body tightened, and her fighting spirit returned. Maybe it was the rush of adrenalin at his proximity, but suddenly she was sick of his escalating demands. Tonight had been a good party; he could at least admit that.
‘I know you can do this.’ He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘You can, Elissa.’
It was those softly spoken words, and his rare use of her name, that really got her back up.
‘I’m not a child, James. You don’t need to jolly me into it.’ She shrugged her shoulders and his hands lifted off. Determined to get at least some credit from him, she went into battle mode. ‘Tonight was a success. So I screwed up a couple of things. But it was still a damn good party.’
He said nothing and she rallied to press the point. ‘The food was incredible.’
‘It was.’
Wow. A concession. She pushed for another. ‘The ballroom looked amazing.’
‘It did.’
‘The guests were all A-list.’
‘They were.’
‘The champagne fountain was just awesome.’
‘It was.’
She glared at him, all the more irritated because he’d agreed with her so easily, so calmly, so less than effusive. Now she really felt like a good argument. She wanted to win, damn it.
His mouth twitched. ‘So. You’ll be organising the next one, then?’
She tossed her head back. Looked him straight in the eye. ‘You’re all challenge, aren’t you, James?’
His eyes flared, flickered down. Then he drawled in that soft way that had all her senses on alert, ‘So, my princess, are you.’
Instantly everything changed. The underlying cause of their intent awareness was pushed forefront. She forgot the party, forgot the job, could focus only on the here and now—on him and her and how they were going to sort each other out, finally. ‘How are you going to handle this challenge, then?’
‘You mean you?’
Her nod was slight, her body held still by the fiery, physical promise of his—so close but not quite there. She was sick of the way he held back.
‘The way I always like to handle a challenge.’ And suddenly he wasn’t holding back. His fingers touched her shoulders again but it was different this time—firmer, more forceful. Sizzling. ‘Hands on and in control.’
