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Deep breaths...
I despised the careless waste of money his unreasonableness triggered. Which was a little ironic considering the line of business I was in but still... I shrugged away my ire and watched the sleek private jet come to a standstill.
Two minutes later, the jet’s engines powered down and short steps dropped onto the tarmac.
And from fifty feet away I caught my first glimpse of Gideon Mortimer.
Holy God.
I’d thought his sex-stroking voice was sinfully aggravating. But the man’s face, lean hips and long-limbed body...everything about him was captivating enough to make my jaw sag in wonder for three embarrassing seconds before I caught myself.
Still I couldn’t look away.
Dark brown wavy hair, glossy beneath the resplendent sunshine, tossed about in the morning breeze. As I watched him approach in a slow saunter, I could’ve sworn every movement he made was precisely choreographed by the director of a perfume ad.
Aviator shades perched on a patrician nose stopped me from seeing his eyes, but that didn’t even matter. I was already preoccupied with the square jaw that held an I-didn’t-bother-to-shave-deal-with-it stubble that prompted fingers—not mine—to test its roughness.
As he drew nearer, my gaze dropped to his mouth.
Dear heaven. Every millimetre of that mouth was built for filthy, decadent sin. For making fast and furious friends with a woman’s lady business, and not disengaging until someone was clawing at silk sheets, screaming for mercy.
Thank God I took the edge off last night, otherwise I’d have a hard time functioning right now. Gideon Mortimer was the epitome of everything I’d thought him to be—sinfully handsome and very much aware of his power over women.
Just like the man whose blood unfortunately ran through my veins; the man I’d never called Dad because he didn’t deserve the title. A no-good son of a bitch I’d never forgiven for what he did to my mother. To me.
Those reminders helped shore up my foundations as I briskly tugged on my bespoke Armani jacket and pinned a cool professional smile on my face. ‘Mr Mortimer?’
He ignored me, peering first into the limo and then, frowning, at his immediate surroundings before his jaw clenched. ‘Jesus, she didn’t even bother to turn up,’ he muttered. ‘Fucking unbelievable.’
I took a deep breath and stepped forward. ‘Mr Mortimer?’ I waited for him to pluck his sunglasses off his face before I thrust out my hand. ‘Welcome to Nice. I’m—’
‘Not who I’m expecting. As much as I appreciate a pretty smile and saucy little chauffeur’s uniform, your boss should’ve come here herself, like she promised. I should’ve guessed that promise of flexibility was too good to be true. Probably that bragging about her gold medals, too,’ he muttered under his breath as he turned towards the Aston Martin.
‘First of all, this isn’t a chauffeur’s uniform. It’s bespoke Armani. Second, I don’t believe she promised she would be here. If you would just—’
‘What are you? Her assistant? Her driver? Are you even old enough to drive this thing?’
‘Mr Mortimer—’
Again he cut me off. ‘Fucking typical. Forget it.’ He pointed his electronic key at the sports car. The boot popped open and he threw his weekend bag into it and slammed it with repressed force. ‘When someone gives their word I expect them to abide by it.’ The set to his jaw suggested he wasn’t talking about the wrong he believed I’d committed. ‘Tell her she just lost my business.’
‘Did she even have it in the first place?’ I snapped. ‘Or were you just toying with her in between playing with your millions?’
He froze with one hand on the door. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Are you sure you want to be excused? Only you seem to enjoy riding roughshod over anyone who so much as throws the tiniest protest your way.’
He slowly leaned his rangy body against the car, crossed his ankles and folded his arms. It was really hard to know which part of his body to look at. Or to avoid looking to prevent sensory overload. He moved like the gears of a well-oiled machine, with impressive fluidity and contained power. I tried not to think of what all that power could do if concentrated between a woman’s legs.
Because the potential to unleash mayhem was there. Barely restrained. Waiting to explode. Something about his unshaven face and the beaten leather jacket draping his body spelled unbridled danger I had every intention of avoiding.
‘You have something to say to me?’ he asked in a tone saturated with English boarding-school arrogance.
I steeled myself to hold his gaze. ‘Funnily enough, yes. Question is, are you going to listen or keep talking over me?’
Dark grey eyes flecked with gold and hazel, surrounded by the most lush lashes I’d ever seen on a man, raked me slowly from head to toe, and back again. He lingered on my legs, my hips, paused the longest on my breasts. Gideon Mortimer was a breasts man. And my breasts were tightening, tingling, in preparation to savour that revelation.
Oh, hell, no.
I clenched my fist over the car key until faint pain in my palm distracted my body from the thick, drugging sensation swirling through me. I couldn’t be attracted to Gideon Mortimer. I just couldn’t.
Before he could respond, I held out my hand once more. ‘Good to meet you, Mr Mortimer. I’m Ms Branson.’
His arms dropped and he looked from my outstretched hand to my face. ‘You’re Leonora Branson?’
‘Yes.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Shit. I thought she...you fobbed me off with an assistant.’
‘I know. You made your feelings very clear on the matter.’
He had the grace to grimace. ‘Apologies. I’ve had a testy few weeks.’
A little mollified, I attempted another smile. ‘Apology accepted.’
He took my hand as his gaze made another subtle pass over my body. ‘How old are you, Leonora Branson?’
Nope, not going near that one. ‘Old enough to have run a successful company for six years with a portfolio of satisfied customers.’
‘Doesn’t really answer my question, does it?’ he said.
‘No, it doesn’t. Besides not playing games I also don’t give out personal information. Is that going to be a problem?’
‘Only if you have a problem with me being impressed that someone so young would be in the position you’re in.’
The unexpected compliment blew a hole through my irritation, just as the pressure of his hand on mine was eroding my intention not to be seriously seduced by his drop-dead gorgeousness.
I knew I was younger than I looked, a fact that had surprised a few people who thought at twenty-six I had no business running a multimillion-pound company. ‘I...’ God, what had he said? Something about being impressed? ‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he said in a deep, gravel-rough voice that reminded me of what I did to myself last night.
I tugged at my hand. He kept a hold of it for another long second, a frown flicking over his face as his jaw clenched and unclenched.
The depth of his examination began to grate. Then the grating turned into something else. Something darker, saucier. Something that emphatically reminded my pussy that a vibrator wasn’t enough any more and what it truly yearned for was a hard, experienced cock.
Please. Not now.
I exhaled in relief as he dropped my hand and then relief morphed to irritation as he turned to the sports car.
‘Are you leaving in that?’
‘I should hope so, since I asked for it to be delivered for that very purpose.’
It took monumental effort not to grit my teeth. ‘You should’ve informed me you would be driving yourself. As you can see, I came to pick you up.’
He tossed a mocking glance at the Rolls Royce and his mouth quirked. ‘It’s a gorgeous ride, but I’m in the mood for a little more horsepower this morning.’
Calm. Be calm. ‘Very well. Shall we arrange a time to meet later?’
‘I have meetings scheduled all day. Then a hot date with the sexy roulette table at the Casino de Monte-Carlo later. She’s always a tease, but an enjoyable one.’
In anticipation of a hectic Monday getting the crew ready to sail, I’d given myself the day off tomorrow. I watched it disappear in a puff of smoke. ‘Why did you ask me to come here this morning if you can’t meet with me?’
‘I asked you to come because it’s a half-hour drive to my hotel. And I believe in time efficiency.’ With that, he opened the passenger door and raised an eyebrow at me. ‘So are you coming, Miss Branson?’ The suggestive decadence in his tone should’ve made me madder. But my traitorous pussy grew damper.
‘I can’t just leave the car here.’
‘There you go again, throwing obstacles in the way of our fledgling...liaison.’
I cast a look towards the hired driver of the limo and nodded, dismissing him and the waste of money Gideon had just cost me.
I grabbed my small purse and the folder I’d brought with me before heading over to the Aston Martin, where Gideon Mortimer stood holding the door open for me.
That small act of chivalry was still unravelling a tiny wave of shock through me as he slid behind the wheel. The throaty engine roared to life the same time I was hit with a lungful of whatever delicious aftershave he was wearing. It was like a shot to the chest from a double-barrelled gun. Compounded by the power of the car when he accelerated out of the airport and the play of his thighs when he aggressively changed gears, I was struck dumb for several minutes.
The busy streets of Nice were filled with tourists at this time of year but Gideon seemed to know how to avoid getting caught up in traffic. At the first set of red lights, he slanted a glance at me. ‘Is the crew issue resolved?’
Shit, he had to give me the tough question straight off the bat. I took a moment to savour my freedom for one last time. ‘If you go ahead and lease the boat, I’ll resolve the crew issue but I won’t act on it until we have an agreement. If and when we do it’ll bring the manpower total to twenty-seven. Trust me, I can make that work.’
A cloud drifted over his face. ‘Trust isn’t a commodity I find very easy to part with.’
The little rush of affinity warmed me before I killed it dead. If the Devil didn’t trust, there was a good reason for it. ‘The other company you’re thinking of going with, have you used them before?’
He cracked a hard smile. ‘Don’t come at me with that angle, Leonora.’
It was the second time he’d used my given name. When had we even agreed to that? And why did each enunciation make me wildly hot?
‘Why not? Why would you decide to go with them and not me?’
‘Because they’re weren’t as...intransigent.’
My fingers tightened around the folder. ‘I can guarantee you a better service.’
He remained silent for a short mile. ‘That remains to be seen. Now, run me through your list,’ he said briskly.
A little more settled now we were on a business footing, I went through the extensive list of everything, from how often the sheets were changed on board the yacht to the ingredients used on the most elaborate meal. I’d found out early in my career not to leave any detail unmentioned.
By the time I was done, he was pulling up in front of the Riviera One hotel in Nice. The cheapest room in the six-star hotel was upward of fifteen hundred euros a night with a stay in the presidential suite extending to the tens of thousands. It was number one on my client recommendation list.
I wasn’t even a little bit surprised that Gideon was greeted by name by the doorman when he stepped out of the Aston Martin.
‘Bienvenue, Monsieur Mortimer.’
‘Thanks, Pierre, it’s good to be back. How are the wife and kids?’ he asked after he tossed his keys to the valet.
‘Very well, monsieur. I must thank you again for that letter of recommendation.’
Gideon clapped the man on the shoulder. ‘If you must, but that’s the last time. Thank me again and I’ll have you fired.’
Pierre looked startled for a moment, before he chuckled. ‘Understood, monsieur. I’ll make sure your bag is delivered right away.’
‘Good man.’
He sauntered into the stunning atrium of the art deco hotel as if he owned the place, striding over to the VIP concierge desk. ‘Everything is ready for you, Mr Mortimer. If there is anything else you need, please do not hesitate to ask and I will personally see to it,’ the chief concierge said.
‘I know you will. I might even start by asking you to teach true customer service to a few people I’m thinking of doing business with,’ Gideon replied, sending me a speaking glance as he pocketed his black key card and headed to the lift.
‘If that comment was aimed at me, I’ll have you know I haven’t had a single complaint since I started my business. In fact, I have several glowing testimonials I’m happy to show you if you want.’
He had the audacity to grin. And, oh, what a spectacular sight it was. It transformed his face from devilishly handsome to downright sacrilegious, stopping my breath dead two seconds after the brilliance of it hit me square in the chest.
Sweet God.
I entered the lift and clung to the railing, desperately willing myself to avoid looking at him, and failing, as he lounged against the wall, arms crossed.
‘I have a feeling you’re not very happy with me, Leonora,’ he mused. ‘Is it because you find me too demanding?’
God, why was he saying my name like that? ‘Wasn’t that the impression you wished to create?’
His shrug was shamelessly unapologetic. ‘My mum used to call me her greedy little bastard, among other things. The way I see it, why ask for the moon and stars when the sun is just begging to be tossed in, as well?’
The use of the past tense triggered curiosity I wrestled down. ‘And you don’t care if your greed earns you a certain reputation?’
‘I’m a big boy. I can take care of anyone who pays me a less-than-stellar compliment to my face. What they say behind my back—’ he shrugged again ‘—I care very little about.’
The realisation that he meant it, that power and privilege had insulated him against the barbs of ordinary men, grated. It was the same entitlement that my father fed on, using it to prey on defenceless people like my mother until she was a husk before throwing her away. The same entitlement with which another woman had looked at my fiancé, decided she wanted him and had taken him without compunction, Adam’s own collusion aside.
Dammit, there I went thinking about him again. Something about Gideon Mortimer triggered unwanted memories. The sooner I got our business squared away, the better.
Except, if he signed on the dotted line, I’d be stuck with him for the next few weeks.
‘You should learn to school your expressions better, Leonora.’
I refocused on him but didn’t bother to hide my derision. ‘Pray tell, what do you think you see?’
‘There’s a lot about me you don’t like. But you’re swallowing your pride for the sake of our business relationship. Bravo on that, by the way. But there’s something you do like and you’re desperate to keep that under wraps.’
My heart rate spiked just a little north of uncomfortable. ‘Wow, you can tell all of that just by looking at my face?’
