by JC Harroway
I suck in a breath, veering perilously close to a bottomless emotional chasm. Hamilton’s is more than a company to me. It’s inexorably linked to my sense of belonging. The only way I can connect to my parents so I don’t feel the sheer panic of being utterly abandoned.
I close my eyes for a second, sucking in a bolstering breath. As I often do, I hear my parents’ voices.
Food is more than nutrition—it’s a part of our rich history. Always remember your roots, Ava. Without them we can’t grow.
The words force a lump to the back of my throat. They often used our time together cooking—the ritual of making fresh pasta or kneading bread—to impart parental wisdom, or just connect. We spent hours talking in the kitchen. I usually play music while I cook now to counter the overwhelming silence.
I swallow, seeking my composure as I answer his question on my finances. ‘I have some savings my parents left me. With a small loan it will be enough for what the shares are worth.’
His eyes are trained on mine as he faces me across my embarrassingly cluttered desk. ‘How do you know what the shares are worth?’
I stand too. He already has the height advantage and the surprise factor to his credit. This is my office, warts and all.
‘Well... I’m a company director. I—’
‘I’m not talking about dollar value,’ he interrupts. ‘I’m talking about the value to me, personally. Why do you want to own all of the sinking ship anyway? Wouldn’t it be better for us to drown together in the hopes that I’ll cast you another financial lifeline?’ His smile borders on cruel even as his stare swoops over me.
I huff in outrage, any lingering feelings for the time we shared destroyed by his obstinacy. ‘Why would my company mean anything to you?’ I say, appalled. ‘I want the sinking ship, as you put it, because it’s everything to me. It’s my inheritance. My heritage.’
All I have left of my loved ones...
He shrugs, completely unfazed by my pleading tone and my private admission. ‘I would’ve thought you’d be relieved to unburden yourself of such a crippling liability. This company was struggling when your grandparents came to me three years ago, and it’s in even worse shape now. Which is why I’m here to tell you that your cunning little plan to get close to me has worked in your favour. Congratulations.’
‘What do you mean?’ Ice slithers through my veins at the look of hostility in his eyes. I recall them sparking with arousal and I wonder where that warm, considerate man has gone. The one with the winning charm, good manners and sexual magnetism.
A cruel smile that makes me shiver twists his gorgeous mouth. ‘I mean, Ava, that I intend to amalgamate Hamilton’s into a bigger company, which I’ll then sell to the highest bidder. And there’s not a damned thing—including seducing me again—that you can do about it.’
CHAPTER FOUR
Sterling
SURROUNDED BY THE nostalgic clutter of her office and the memories plastered over the walls, she seems so down to earth. More approachable. Vulnerable. And still shockingly beautiful. She’s wearing another pair of skyscraper heels, a navy blue pants suit and an emerald silk blouse that makes her eyes brighter. I recall those eyes shot through with arousal and my cock flickers in my pants.
Dream on, buddy.
This is the same temptress who all but propositioned me in my own damned elevator in order to get close to me and seduce me out of my shares in her company.
No, now it’s my company. A company Marcus had wanted but failed to procure. When Ava’s grandparents came to me for investment three years ago, shortly after I returned to New York, I jumped at the chance to best the man who’d made half my life miserable.
Looking at Ava now, her face pale, her astounding blue eyes wide, and disbelief visible in the way she’s holding her luscious body, I have to lock down my violent attraction to her.
Her surprise drains away to be replaced by the flush of anger. ‘You can’t sell Hamilton’s. It’s my job...my life.’
She’s not vulnerable; she’s conniving, deceptive, ruthless. I know better than anyone that appearances can be deceiving. Wasn’t Marcus a pillar of the community in strangers’ eyes? He attended all the right functions—charity galas, fundraisers and business events. He’d married his friend’s widow after becoming a widower himself and taken on a young stepson. I was the only one, it seemed, who consistently saw the real man. My mother must have hoped for a doting stepfather. To this day she’s blessedly unaware of what a despicable bully her second husband was to her only son.
I’ve tried to protect her, so she doesn’t know the full extent of Marcus’s psychological manipulations. I only hope she fared better against his cruel streak. A boy should never hear his mother cry behind a closed door. I couldn’t stop Mom’s emotional abuse at the hands of Marcus any more than I could stop my own.
But I can execute my plans for both Hamilton’s and Brent’s.
Despite Josh dragging Mom into his whining justifications for claiming Brent’s—something that should be between us, man to man—I’ve no desire to enlighten my mother. She’s lost two husbands. I won’t cause her more pain.
The same impotence I felt as a boy beats at me now as I stand before Ava. ‘On the contrary, I can do what I like with our company.’ I grind my teeth to hide how much I still want her. My body clamours to get close, get inside her again until I feel restored and she learns I’m not a man to be hoodwinked and used.
I’ll never be weak again. Weaknesses can be exploited. Marcus taught that life lesson to a ten-year-old boy still grieving the death of his father. Then I was powerless to the tyrant who subtly criticised everything I did and said. The man who constantly compared me to my stepbrother and was quick to highlight my failures. Quick—through jealousy I hadn’t understood at the time—to slander my kind, hard-working policeman father, despite their friendship.
You’ll never amount to much, just like him.
Your father isn’t here because he was too busy protecting other people to care about you.
If only you could make your mother proud the way I’m proud of Josh...
The recollection of Marcus’s vile words spoils my satisfaction at Ava’s shocked reaction to my statement.
‘If you no longer want the company, why not sell it back to me? Surely that makes the most sense.’ She blinks her pretty blue eyes.
I won’t succumb to her charms a second time. Discovering her true identity replicated the powerlessness I felt under Marcus’s control.
‘I’m not interested in making sense. Only money and all of the decisions. That’s why I negotiated the equity stake with your grandparents.’ I have a plan for Hamilton’s, one that involves Brent’s Express, which is based in Chicago. It’s a plan I intend to stick to, and it doesn’t involve weakness or sentiment.
I feel Ava’s animosity buffet me from across the room.
Good—I’m an expert at withstanding indifference and dislike. What I won’t tolerate is failure or its reminders.
Ava’s stare turns murderous. ‘You took advantage of my grandparents.’ Fight stiffens her body. ‘They were elderly and desperate, otherwise they’d never have come to a shark like you.’
That she questions my integrity after what she did boils my blood. I want to kiss her just to silence her unfounded accusations.
And because you can’t get her off your mind.
That’s just sex. This is business.
‘I did no such thing.’ My brittle smile seems to enrage her further. ‘I invested heavily in their business for the controlling share, and they were eager to sell. They said they needed the money to help their granddaughter with her college debts.’
She looks away and pricks of remorse make me wince—she clearly didn’t know.
Her phone emits a second alert. She silences it quickly, her shock morphing into an impatient frown that tugs her mouth flat.
‘I have a meeting with my warehouse foreman—we’ll need to reschedule this...discussion.’
‘I don’t think so.’ My denial jerks her eyes back to mine.
I won’t be brushed off again. Waking up to find her side of my bed cold and no sexy little note was dismissal enough from the woman who blasted through my dull Friday night like a comet. These days, people underestimate me at their peril.
Marcus did. Josh, too, is quickly waking up to the realisation that I won’t be manipulated. As stepbrothers, there’s little love lost between us. He failed to show me any sort of brotherly kindness growing up. I’d looked forward to having an older sibling, but, at seven years my senior, Josh wasn’t the role model I hoped for. Instead he despised me at worst and ignored me at best.
‘This isn’t a social call,’ I continue, taking a seat and watching with satisfaction as panic steals the colour from Ava’s cheeks. ‘You’ve already run out on me once so I’ll wait right here for you.’ I’ve had to cancel a business trip to visit the other Bold directors in Tokyo this week, so I have nothing better to do. ‘But be assured, Ava, I can do whatever I like with this company. I hold the deciding share.’
When I invested in Hamilton’s, its only value to me was the one-upmanship I achieved over Marcus. But, now I know how Ava Hamilton manipulated and used me, I’ll take even greater pleasure in doing what Marcus couldn’t: amalgamating Hamilton’s and Brent’s. I’ll add my golden touch, rebrand and sell them as a Lombard success story.
Selling Brent’s at triple the price I paid for it will show Marcus, once and for all, how he underestimated me...even if it’s only his son who remains to witness my revenge.
‘What are you planning to do to Hamilton’s?’ Her appalled question is tremulous.
I shrug, brushing a speck of lint from the leg of my pants, as I harden myself against the confused desperation on her face. ‘Why should I tell you my intentions? I don’t trust a single glorious hair on your deceitful head.’
I trail my stare over the rest of her, recalling every inch of her sexy, voluptuous body.
Ava fists one hand on her hip and I’m momentarily reminded of my ex, Monroe. A woman I still admire and care about enough to stay business partners with, despite our personal history and failed marriage. Ava has the same graceful elegance, the same forthright spirit and the same confidence and smarts.
But I’ve been there, done that. Relationships are another way to be vulnerable to attack. To feel powerless. To harbour regrets.
After her mother died, Monroe pushed me away. I tried not to internalise her grief, but that part of me beaten down by Marcus felt defeat, nonetheless. No matter how hard I tried, I just seemed to make things worse. I let her down. I couldn’t be what she needed. Some long-forgotten part of my brain was awakened by Marcus’s condemnations—after all, he’d predicted from the start that our marriage wouldn’t last. I wasn’t totally to blame for the divorce, but didn’t that sting the worst, to know he was proved correct?
‘Trust me or not,’ Ava says, her voice tight, ‘we’re currently business partners—fifty-fifty.’
I snort. ‘More like fifty-five, forty-five in my favour. As there’s no time like the present, I’d like a tour of my assets, please.’ I stand, move to the door and swing it open so she knows it’s non-negotiable. ‘I’ve already seen the...um...offices—’ I glance around the cramped space with a nice view of the parking lot ‘—why don’t I accompany you to the warehouse?’
From the venomous look she shoots me—white-hot sparks turning her irises arctic—I’m surprised I’m still standing. But those sparks ignite my blood the way they did when our lips connected, the same potent chemistry at work.
They say love and hate are two sides of the same coin...
I sling my hands in my pockets and wait for her to realise that, unlike Friday night when she held the upper hand and I was ignorant, now she’s completely at my mercy.
‘Fine,’ she huffs, scooping up her phone and purse. She struts past me to the outer office, leaving a trail of delicious scent in her wake. I momentarily close my eyes, my mind and body awash with memories of her in my bed. Her passionate cries, her nails digging into my shoulders, her pleading stare, begging for release.
‘Judy—I’ll be in the warehouse. Mr Lombard would like a tour.’ She shoots me an exaggerated smile of saccharine sweetness that makes me want to tug her into my arms and remind how much she’d wanted, no, needed me, the other night.
She flicks her glossy hair over her shoulder and leaves the room, expecting me to follow. I do just that, sniggering under my breath. She reminds me of the ancient bulldog my grandparents owned—all snarly bluster on the surface but fond of a good tummy rub underneath. I’ve seen her other side. The sexy seductress who came apart in my arms. The passionate woman who sucked me until I almost lost my mind.
Oh, she might have set out to entrap or manipulate me, but her reactions in bed, her breathy kisses and wild moans—they were as real as it gets. Physically she was as overcome as me.
Except she had an ulterior motive.
We reach the ground floor and exit the building, a hostile mix of distrust and pheromones swirling around us like smoke. I want to switch off that part of my brain that finds her incredibly alluring. I don’t want to notice the sexy sway of her hips as she walks, or the slope of her neck when the wind gusts, lifting her hair. Her scent carried on the brisk breeze is particular torture.
Remember what she did. How it made you feel like that helpless kid again.
My determination strengthens with every clip of her heels across the concrete. I’ll never be manipulated again, no matter how tempting the inducement. And they don’t come more tempting than this woman.
Perhaps I imagined that glimpse of vulnerability in her expression earlier. It was likely just surprise at me showing up unannounced and catching her out on her subterfuge.
Fighting the impotence of wanting her still, I drag my eyes away from her gorgeous ass.
‘Why did you sneak out while I was asleep?’ Now, why did I ask that? I don’t care that she left without so much as a goodbye. She knew who I was before I laid a single finger on her. She used me while I was oblivious, while I was already picturing where I’d take her for our second date.
So why didn’t she stay to press her advantage?
‘I didn’t sneak. I just left.’ Her thick, dark lashes bat as she blinks rapidly, watching me with curiosity and a small smile playing about her full lips. ‘Don’t tell me your ego was bruised when you woke up alone...?’
‘My ego is just fine.’ I step close as we reach the warehouse side door and she keys in a code with gratifyingly twitchy fingers. I swing the door open and then block the doorway, turning so we’re face to face, only inches apart.
‘Perhaps I just hadn’t had my fill of you.’ I dip my stare to the vee of her blouse, where a flash of cleavage and a glimpse of lace tighten my groin. Damn, but I want her just as fiercely as the first time, conniving temptress or not.
Her pulse leaping in her neck and the hint of arousal in her eyes as she looks up at me are way too satisfying. Resenting each other hasn’t diminished our desire one bit. There’s no reason the flames in the bedroom would dim just because we’re now on opposing sides. Only, now that she’s revealed her true colours, I’m confident our chemistry is something I can not only control but also use to give me the upper hand.
‘Let’s just stick to business, shall we?’ She moves past me and snags a couple of hard hats from the selection hanging on the wall. She thrusts one my way, her smile mocking.
‘Something amusing you, Ms Hamilton?’ I take the hat and adjust the strap before perching it on my head.
She dons her hat without ceremony, telling me she’s not just used to running things from her disorganised office, but she’s comfortable on the shop floor, as it were, too. I wonder if she can also drive a tru
ck or operate a forklift...
Now, that I’d love to see...
‘No, I just wish the Financial Times could see you now, that’s all.’ With a twitch of her lips, she heads through another door and into the warehouse’s main facility.
The noise of the climate control system and the various industrial vehicles moving around the cavernous space prevents further conversation. When we enter the office in the corner the noise level drops dramatically.
‘Hi, Sam.’ Ava addresses a man in his late fifties with greying hair. ‘This is Mr Lombard. Would you please give him a tour of the facility while I take a look at the invoicing system?’
The foreman nervously takes me in but jumps to his boss’s bidding, grabbing his own hard hat and leading me back out through the door we just entered.
I’m only half listening as Sam describes the square footage, the state-of-the-art loading docks my investment paid for, and the inventory management system and electronic data interface that makes things run like clockwork. My mind is occupied with more pleasing thoughts—like how Hamilton’s will complement Brent’s. Throw in the New Jersey–based SeaFreight, the shipping company I own, and with some management restructuring and a shiny new business name I can create a very profitable national logistics company. And erase Marcus Brent from my life once and for all.
Despite how he treated me and Mom, despite what he said about my father out of envy, I’m ten times the businessman he was.
As we walk back to the office, I ask Sam what kind of a boss Ava makes. I’d like to believe my curiosity is intelligence-gathering, but I suspect I’m just intrigued—this is traditionally a male-dominated industry. She’s clearly a very hands-on boss. It’s all a complete turn-on I’m battling to ignore. I tell myself that it’s good to know your enemy, and preferably keep them as close as possible.
Yeah, you just want her back in your bed...