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It was there Wolfe drew her into his arms and brushed his mouth to her own, deepening the kiss as she sighed and sought the play of taut muscle and sinew beneath his cotton shirt.
Pleasure, sweet and evocative, took hold of her vulnerable emotions and captured them. She couldn’t think…and knew she didn’t want to…as his tongue met her own, traced its outline, then began a sensual exploration that promised heat and passion. Everything she’d dreamed a kiss could be.
Her lower body arched involuntarily against his own. Seconds later the breath hitched in her throat as he plundered at will.
Oh my God.
The earth moved…she was willing to swear on it, and she lost all sensation of time and place, for there was only the man and the intense sexual awareness he aroused.
She didn’t want it to end, and a faint protest escaped her lips as he lifted his head, and her eyes widened into huge, dark pools as he put her at arm’s length.
Dear heaven, please, she silently begged in a desperate need to feel the warmth of his mouth on her own. The heat, the intense emotion he managed to arouse without any seeming effort at all.
Had she said the words out loud?
She didn’t know as Wolfe grasped hold of her chin and lifted it high.
‘Very pleasant. But…just for the record…I have no intention of following Darius’example by becoming involved with his second wife’s daughter.’
Harsh, angry words that tore her vulnerable heart apart and left it raw and bleeding.
Didn’t he know he’d succeeded in branding her his own with that erotically evocative kiss?
She felt cold, so cold her body shook with it.
How could he?
It was pride and pride alone that wrought her response. It cost dearly to summon cynicism, but she managed it…just. ‘So, what was that we just shared? A lesson in futility?’
His eyes were dark, slumbrous in the moonlit night.
‘Yes, damn you.’
Humiliated beyond measure, she turned and walked away from him, uncaring whether he followed her or not. And indoors she met Darius, momentarily paused, saw his eyes sharpen at her obvious distress, then she gave a choked cry and ran quickly upstairs to her room, removed her clothes, took a leisurely shower…and wept until there were no tears left.
‘Please. Sit down.’
The words brought Lara slamming back to the present, and for a brief second her eyes widened as Wolfe indicated the leather-buttoned chair close to his own.
How long had she been locked in the past? Dear heaven, hopefully only a number of fleeting seconds. Years had passed since her eighteenth birthday…ten, to be precise…and she was no longer a sexually vulnerable teenager, prey to burgeoning emotions.
Lara chose the chair furthest away from Wolfe, unsure whether it was a minor act of defiance or the need to put some distance between them.
The lawyer crossed behind his desk, collected a file and opened it as he sank into his chair.
There was a discreet knock on the door, and an assistant entered with a tray containing a steaming pot of tea and coffee together with the requisite cups, saucers, milk and sugar.
The norm? Preferential treatment for important clientele, or an offering in preparation for unexpected news?
Whatever…she held the hope it wouldn’t involve too much time, for she was due to begin the afternoon shift a few hours from now.
Lara took her tea strong, and she endeavoured to still a slight shaky feeling as she sipped the brew and waited for the lawyer to begin.
Legalese tended to be long-winded as various clauses sought to cover every contingency. Darius’ will cited numerous issues, bequeathing Suzanne the use of their principal residence and a generous income from certain allocated personal assets…such assets to be held in trust for his only son, Wolfe Ignatius Alexander.
The remainder of his personal estate was to be held in trust and released to Wolfe upon the event of Wolfe’s marriage and the issue of children.
Darius’ business assets, comprising the Alexander Conglomerate and its various companies…bequeathed to Wolfe and Lara in equal shares.
Lara opened her mouth in disbelief, then closed it again as the lawyer continued.
Wolfe’s fifty-per-cent share conditional in the event he relocated to Sydney and took control as head of the directorial board. If this was not met within three months of Darius’ demise, Wolfe’s share of the Alexander Conglomerate and its various companies would be sold and the proceeds donated to several nominated charities.
Lara’s fifty-per-cent share to be held in trust for her children, with Lara receiving dividend income from those shares.
Suzanne’s insistence on a pre-nuptial agreement that allowed her the use of one residence together with an annuity should Darius predecease her was something Lara had known about for several years.
If Wolfe was surprised by the existence of a pre-nup at Suzanne’s instigation, he gave no evidence of it as the lawyer condensed the contents of Suzanne’s will.
Personal effects, items of jewellery and any cash held in Suzanne’s bank accounts went to her only daughter, Lara Anne Sommers, together with Suzanne’s annuity in perpetuity to Lara, the use of Suzanne’s principal residence to pass to Lara during her lifetime, with any remaining assets to be held in trust for Lara’s children.
Darius had been a generous benefactor, gifting Suzanne an enviable lifestyle, comprising frequent travel, a more-than-generous allowance and numerous gifts of jewellery, ensuring Suzanne had wanted for nothing.
The implications sank in with stark reality.
Darius had played his last card.
Attempting to achieve in death what he’d been unable to achieve during his lifetime…by organizing his affairs to have his only son return to Sydney and take control of his business interests.
‘I respectfully suggest your decision regarding the Alexander Conglomerate is paramount,’ the lawyer posed, and Wolfe inclined his head in agreement.
There followed a rundown of Darius’ personal and business assets, together with those of Suzanne…untouchable until both estates went to probate, which could, given the complexity of assets, take several months.
Lara rose to her feet as the consultation came to an end, and walked at Wolfe’s side to Reception, collected her coat and crossed to the bank of lifts.
There were numerous issues regarding Suzanne’s personal effects, but for the life of her she couldn’t think of them now.
The lift arrived and she entered it and stood in silence at Wolfe’s side as it descended swiftly to ground level.
In such small confines, his height and breadth of shoulder made her increasingly aware of her petite stature.
The contrast between them was marked. Wolfe’s dark hair, sculptured bone structure and dark, slate-grey eyes owed much to his late mother’s European ancestry. Whereas Lara possessed ash-blonde hair, fine-boned features and brilliant sapphire-blue eyes…the antithesis of his own.
The lift reached ground level, and they walked out onto the pavement to witness the rain replaced by weak sunshine.
Lara paused hesitantly as concern vied with the stark reality of what she could possibly arrange regarding her outstanding debt to the ominously threatening loan shark.
There was a palatial home she could live in upon probate…but not sell or rent out. A generous annuity in perpetuity paid into her bank account each month upon probate. Shares worth a small fortune…to be held in trust and not sold, from which she’d derive a very sizable income…again, upon probate. Suzanne’s jewellery and personal effects which she’d choose to treasure and never sell. A restaurant she’d have to walk away from any day soon if serious financial help wasn’t forthcoming.
Assets, none of which were liquid…ensuring she was asset rich, but cash poor. With no hope in hell of raising the large amount of cash needed by midnight to pay off the loan shark.
Even if she presented copies of Darius’ and Suzanne’s wills, no bank would come to her aid with such a large amount within hours.
Could she…dared she…approach Wolfe, explain her predicament and request his financial assistance?
Ice entered her veins and chilled her body.
There was no other way.
None.
So what did she have to lose…except her pride?
CHAPTER TWO
‘CAN we talk?’ Stark, minimum words that cost her dearly, and incurred a probing look.
‘There’s something you want to discuss?’
His voice was a faintly inflected drawl, and she suppressed an involuntary shiver.
Lara spared him a quick glance and gleaned little from his expression. Assertiveness was the key. ‘Yes.’
‘In that case, let’s do so over lunch.’
Share a meal with him? She really didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary… Time was something she didn’t have!
He sensed her hesitation, and his eyes narrowed slightly. She looked too slender, her features too pale, and she resembled a cat on hot bricks.
Grief, without doubt, had to be taken into account…but why did he have the feeling it was more than that? A broken romance? There had been no boyfriend evident to lend support during the funeral service, nor to attend the gathering afterwards.
He told himself he didn’t care…and knew it to be untrue. For, despite the intervening years, he still retained a vivid recall of her teenage crush, and the method with which he’d dealt with it. The surprising sweetness of her young mouth; her reaction to his touch; the way she’d felt in his arms, and her uninhibited response.
It had affected him more than he’d imagined possible, and left him with a lingering sense of frustration in the knowledge he could have taken her. What had held him back? Remorse? Guilt? At the time he’d refused to contemplate it might be anything else…and he’d grasped opportunity with both hands soon after by relocating to New York, where he’d focused on forging his own fortune.
During the following years he’d met up with Darius in various parts of the world, and during infrequent appearances in Sydney, where he preferred hotel accommodation to staying as a guest in his father’s home. Dinner invitations that had included Lara…who’d stoically refused to ignore him, yet had treated him with such incredible politeness it had made him want to shake her.
Not unlike the feeling he entertained now.
‘We both need to eat,’ Wolfe ventured silkily.
Did she have a choice?
‘A sandwich and coffee,’ she conceded, aware it was all she could afford.
‘When was the last time you ate a decent meal?’
The question came out of left field, and she stiffened at the underlying censure. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, I spend my time in a kitchen cooking professionally for a living.’
‘For clientele.’
‘The nature of the business,’ she responded, and incurred his dark gaze.
‘An hour or two enjoying a leisurely meal in my company is abhorrent to you?’
Difficult. Unnerving. But not abhorrent. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘Of course not.’
They were walking along a busy city-street, and she hesitated as Wolfe indicated a restaurant she knew to be ruinously expensive.
‘Relax.’
Sure. Like she could do that!
The maître d’ took one look at Wolfe, determined an aura of wealth, and ushered them to a well-positioned table.
Within minutes the drinks waiter elicited their order, and Lara opted to stay with chilled water, as did Wolfe.
The menu offered a superb variety, and she perused the selection with care.
‘Do you have a preference?’
Oh God, she didn’t want to do this!
‘I’m not very hungry.’
Wolfe cast her a brief glance over the top of the menu, then went ahead and ordered bruschetta, two entrées, two mains and intimated dessert could wait until later.
She opened her mouth to protest, only to close it again as she incurred his dark, unyielding look.
‘You really want to argue?’
Give it up, a silent voice warned.
The temptation to launch into her request was uppermost, if only to get it out there and be done with it—for the thought of playing polite and conducting a meaningless conversation almost brought her undone.
He looked every inch the man he’d become. Hardened, ruthless, powerful. Someone it would be wise not to toy with…unless you were prepared to face the consequences.
Successful beyond measure, Darius had been known to reveal with pride, with an apartment overlooking New York’s Central Park, residences in London and the south of France, to name a few.
While she was almost destitute and in debt up to her eyeballs.
Some comparison!
Did—could—Wolfe know of her financial circumstances?
Probably not. Unless he’d made it his business to find out. Despite privacy laws, information wasn’t too difficult to elicit if one knew how to circumvent conventional channels.
The mere thought sickened her, and she felt a slight degree of relief as a waiter appeared and placed a platter onto the table.
