Taming the Big Bad Billionaire

by Pippa Roscoe

  ‘Mr Liordis,’ she replied.

  ‘Loukas, please,’ he said, charmingly, refusing to return to his seat until she had taken her own.

  They ordered their drinks, his gaze not once wavering from her face as she requested a tonic water, as if he didn’t need to look for confirmation of her situation. Although no expression passed over his features, she realised in an instant that it wouldn’t do to underestimate this man, despite his lazy demeanour. Whether he realised her pregnancy or not, he had the grace not to allude to it.

  ‘You are here with your husband?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, unable to keep the smile from her face.

  ‘Ah, then I will not keep you from him for long, for this place is a paradise for lovers.’

  Loukas proceeded to explain that he’d been looking for a charity to put his energies into for some time, but had been hampered by his reputation. He was charming, self-deprecating, but with a fierce intelligence she recognised from her husband. She read between the lines and a little thread of excitement curled through her as she realised that he needed them as much as they needed him.

  But, for all his practised charm, Ella found herself longing for the dark edges and plain speaking of her husband, figuring them somehow more real than the careless façade Loukas was presenting.

  The meeting was going well. Really well. He had listened with a focus that simmered beneath the languorous gaze, had questioned a surprising amount of the finer details, yet Ella had risen to each one—and she could tell that he was impressed. Impressed and tempted. However, she could feel the ‘but’ on the horizon and she began to feel the first prickling of concern.

  ‘This is a very strong business plan, Ella. Your anticipation of many of my concerns has been impressive, and I really would like to look into this further.’

  ‘But?’ she asked with a smile to take the sting out of her fear.

  ‘But I do have one concern. I’m not quite sure yet that your company is financially viable enough to do what I need you to do for me.’

  ‘I assure you that we are.’

  He grimaced as he shook his head, clearly not convinced, but also clearly not refusing them outright. ‘If you can show me that there is more capital, say between four or five million, then I would readily sign the papers. But without it...’ He trailed off and shrugged apologetically.

  As Ella’s stomach dropped, her mind furiously spun, filtering through her private bank accounts, calling to mind Célia’s own investments. There was one option, her only option. But would she take it?

  ‘Would you be willing to give me two days?’

  ‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘I do believe in your company and what you are offering and would very much relish the opportunity to work with you and your clients. Get in touch when you’re ready and we’ll talk.’

  * * *

  Roman had been pacing almost since the moment Ella had left to meet Liordis. Whether because of the effect he had had on her last client meeting or that he had come to see just how much this meant to Ella, this meeting had eclipsed even his own business interests in importance.

  And while he had been the one to bring Loukas to the table, still as yet undiscovered by his wife, he had not been assured of the outcome. In what felt like a matter of minutes Ella returned, and he was shocked to find, when he checked his watch, that nearly two hours had gone by.

  He realised immediately that something was wrong. The way she looked not at him but at the horizon, her mind clearly whirring away rather than relishing the joy of success. It ate at him, and even the knowledge that he should wait until she was ready couldn’t prevent the question falling from his lips.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘He... Loukas does want to sign with us...’

  ‘But?’

  She let loose a gentle, not quite bitter half-laugh at something he couldn’t fathom.

  ‘He doesn’t think we have the capital to do what we say we can.’

  ‘He’s wrong,’ Roman declared with a finality that surprised them both.

  ‘Maybe...maybe not. He made some suggestions that were surprisingly astute—’

  ‘Given his reputation?’

  ‘Yes. It would most definitely not do to underestimate him. But I can’t deny that those suggestions might stretch us, given our current finances.’

  ‘Yes, but trying to arrange for more capital could stretch you further,’ Roman responded, quickly seeing to the heart of her concern.

  ‘Maybe. But...’ She turned to him then, her hands rolling over each other before her, an unusually insecure gesture from his wife. ‘But if I were to sell you my shares in Kolikov Holdings—’

  ‘No.’ Roman’s quick, determined response surprised them both.

  ‘Roman,’ she chided. ‘Will you hear me out?’

  ‘I don’t need to.’

  ‘Roman,’ she tried again, and he realised that she just couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see how giving him her shares, how handing control over to him would tempt him. Would give him the power to take it all away. She would hand over the very thing that kept him on a leash. And instinctively he knew. He knew that should she lose that hold, should she lose the last bargaining chip she had with him, it would destroy everything. Because he would be unable to resist putting those shares to the very use that she would not want. No matter how much she had come to mean to him, no matter how much he wanted to be more...he simply wasn’t capable of it. He couldn’t change. He had needed to be a monster to fight Vladimir and he was still that same monster. His...feelings for her hadn’t changed that. And if he did use the shares to achieve what he wanted, the cost to Ella would be devastating. Her pain and the shock of a second betrayal...it would be too much for her to bear.

  ‘Firstly,’ he tried, desperately and silently needing her to understand, ‘I don’t want you to overstretch your company at such an early stage in its development. At the moment you are risking a great deal. If I say yes, you would risk even more. And secondly, we haven’t actually done a market share price, so I couldn’t honestly say that you’d get a fair price.’

  ‘I believe in what Célia and I are doing. I believe in this company and know, know, it will work. And I don’t need a market price, I need a fair one. And I trust you to be fair. I don’t need more. I just need enough. And I think five million is a fair and appropriate price. It’s enough to inject some of it into the company and still have a cushion that allows for some wiggle room.’

  ‘Please think about this.’ He was almost begging. Never before had he felt that sense of a precipice before him.

  ‘Roman, honestly, I don’t need to. I know that this will work, I know that this is what I need. Please, would you buy the shares from me?’

  And his earlier promise came back to haunt him. That he would give her anything she wanted, while she wanted it from him. Only this time, giving Ella what she wanted...would cost him everything.

  * * *

  Within two days the money had come through from the sale of her shares to Roman, Loukas had happily signed the paperwork, becoming their first client, and Ella was almost bursting with joy. She knew that she had put all of her eggs in one basket, but it was a basket that she and Roman shared. She was investing not only in herself, but them.

  Roman was still out wrapping up things with the bank and Kolikov Holdings as Ella watched the sun begin its descent into the South Pacific Ocean. It felt so strange to have the night sky begin to glow about three hours earlier than France, adding to the feeling of a stolen moment outside of time. Ella shivered a little, remembering the last time she had felt like this—before her marriage to Roman. A time that she had felt just belonged to them.

  But this was different, she told herself. This was their second chance. How it should have been all along. With a hand soothing over the gentle bump of her abdomen, Ella marvelled at just how much
had changed since she had met him that day in the woods near her grandmother’s cottage. In some ways, everything she had wanted back then had come to pass. Her marriage to Roman, her business, even their child, she acknowledged.

  She might not have liked how they’d got here, but she couldn’t wish it away. Had it not been like that, she might never have got to know the real Roman. Neither the one who had appeared perfect nor the one who had appeared monstrous had been the man she had come to...had come to...

  Love.

  With a surety that shocked her, the knowledge raced along her veins, fizzing in her blood and lighting something like pure joy within her. She did love him. She loved the man who would do anything to protect their child, the man who had confessed the deep pain hidden beneath his quest for vengeance, the one who still slept lightly in the hope that his mother would one day come and wake him and dance for him in the moonlight. The man who brought her exquisite pleasure and the man who had given her the ability to secure the business she and Célia had worked so hard for.

  Energy raced through her body and she wanted to move, to dance, to take this moment and embrace the sheer happiness of it, having reached such a low shortly after her marriage. She picked up her phone and found a song on her music list, one that would perfectly echo everything she feared she might never capture in words.

  As the song began the notes swept around her, filling the space and echoing in her heart, asking that she feel love. And she did. Paying no heed to the thought that someone could come upon her, dancing around the beautiful living space, with the most incredible backdrop, Ella danced and danced and danced, an almost intoxicating high running through her veins.

  She performed another twirl, the layers of her skirts spinning out from her waist, making her feel like a child again, which was perhaps why she didn’t see Roman at first. Didn’t see the look on his face that might have stopped her in her tracks had she not been so caught up in her joy.

  * * *

  Roman knew she hadn’t seen him yet, and was thankful for it. Because it gave him time. Time to adjust to the fact that, as she spun round the room, he saw his mother. Ella’s movements were not the elegant sweeps his mother had made beneath the night sky. Her arms didn’t extend and reach out for something intangible, as if the gesture would never end, never stop reaching. Because, he realised, Ella believed she had already found what she was looking for.

  The happiness and joy he could almost see vibrating on the air about her, as she moved in time with the song that taunted him, cut him off at the knees.

  She turned to him then, eyes seas of sparkles that would rival the night sky, and he knew. He didn’t want to, almost asked her not to say what she clearly wanted to say. But his words wouldn’t come, while hers poured from her lips like raindrops.

  ‘I’m so happy,’ she said, almost strangely apologetic, or embarrassed. But those feelings were apparently put aside or pushed down as he watched her transform into someone assured, confident, someone owning her own sense of self. It was like watching a flower unfurl to bask in everything the sun could give.

  ‘I couldn’t have done it without you,’ she said as she closed the distance between them. A distance that he wanted, needed, coward that he was. He wanted to explain that she was wrong. He wanted to ask her what she thought she might have been able to do had he not nearly destroyed her by seeking her as his tool for revenge. In a heartbeat, all the times he had seen her question herself because of him, doubt herself because of him, doubt those around her... Because of him, came to his mind.

  ‘I love you,’ she said. He didn’t hear the words above the roaring in his ears but he saw them on her lips, felt them against his skin.

  He kissed her then because he couldn’t think of what to say, couldn’t really begin to understand why her simple declaration could have scared him so much. But one thing he could imagine was the hurt and pain and devastation she would feel when she realised what he was about to do to Vladimir’s company.

  So he kissed her, stopping all words, all thoughts, all doubts and fears, as if this were the last time he would ever kiss his wife.

  CHAPTER TEN

  And the wolf gnashed his teeth and snarled, hissed and bit and growled. It was his nature. It was all he knew.

  The Truth About Little Red Riding Hood

  —Roz Fayrer

  SHE HAD BEEN the root of her own downfall, Roman told himself as he marched through the offices of Kolikov Holdings in Moscow. The moment she had sold her shares to him, no matter how much she clearly felt that she had changed, had proved that she was just as innocent and naïve as she had been when he had met her over a year ago in France.

  Yes, there was more there—a drive, a deeper complexity, a confidence and self-assurance that almost awed him. Almost. But she was still the same Ella who had agreed to marry a man after only one month of knowing him. And, like her, Roman was still the same as he had been when they had met. A man out for vengeance at any cost.

  Ever since she’d let loose those three little words...

  Too wrapped up in her thoughts and too busy since, Ella had absolutely no idea of the effect they’d had on Roman. They had haunted his dreams and sliced through his waking hours. The only other person to say such a thing to him had been cruelly torn from him without Roman being able to prevent it.

  For so long he had been sure. Certain that his path of vengeance was just. For so long he had lived by the promise he’d made his mother on her deathbed. That Vladimir would be punished, that the company he’d loved more than his own child would be destroyed.

  But Ella had made him want. Want things to be different, for him to be different. And he realised that for a few months he’d been living more of a lie than any he’d ever told. Because he’d lied to himself. Told himself that he could have things he didn’t deserve. Could feel things that his closed off, damaged heart would never be capable of. That he could, in some impossible way, compensate for the truly awful things he had done to Ella.

  And it had lasted until she’d asked him to buy her shares. Until she’d given him the final tool to complete the journey he had started almost eighteen years before. And he’d known. Known that he could not, would not refuse to use it.

  Because if he put aside his plans now, if he changed his mind, then it would mean that every single thing he’d planned, done, right down to marrying Ella in the first place...it would have all been for nothing. And that was impossible. All the things he’d given up, all of the softer parts of him he’d sacrificed in order to exact revenge against Vladimir, all of the things that Ella deserved were gone.

  Roman could not have, or be, both. He couldn’t love her and not pay the price of his own actions. He couldn’t love her and not acknowledge that he was more dangerous to his wife and child than any other threat they could face. So the only thing left to him was to burn it all down to the ground. Every last piece of Vladimir’s company—and his marriage along with it.

  Because that was the only way to protect Ella and their child, to ensure that his decisions and actions didn’t hurt them beyond repair. To ensure that the damage done to his soul by so many years of vengeance didn’t poison their innocence. The greatest act of love he could show either of them was to walk away.

  He paused just outside the doorway to the boardroom, filled with the sycophantic men and women who had bolstered his grandfather’s ego, who had come to represent all that had been inflicted on his mother. In that moment he felt hatred course through his veins. A hatred that had to be more powerful than anything else in him if he was to finally get what he’d wanted. A hatred he needed if he was to overcome the desire to turn back. To seek what he did not deserve. To throw himself at Ella’s feet and beg for forgiveness. With gritted teeth, he hung on to his anger like a drowning man, walked through the doorway and came to a halt at the head of the table.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I have a proposition
for you. One that you would be inconceivably stupid not to accept...’

  * * *

  Célia’s laughter rained over Ella, who had not been able to stop smiling since Fiji. They had celebrated the success of securing their first client with a lovely long lunch—Célia sipping on champagne and Ella on ginger and elderflower pressé.

  She leaned a shoulder against Célia’s as they stood at the large iron-work windows of their beautiful new office that looked out over Paris. The nineteenth-century building had needed extensive work to make it a space suitable for their needs, but Célia had risen to the challenge. Ella loved the exposed brickwork and open space of the central offices, settling beneath steel girders that gave it a heady sense of both history and modernity, melded in the way in which they both wanted their business to bring together charities and businesses in order to help those who most needed it.

  ‘You’ve done such a great job here, Célia.’

  ‘And you’ve done such a great job with the clients,’ Célia replied, smiling and leaning back into Ella.

  Ella couldn’t, wouldn’t, disguise the little squeal of delight, the little jump of joy, nor the smile when she caught Célia rolling her eyes.

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t have a drink at lunch?’

  ‘Not a drop.’

  ‘Then you’re high on hormones and happy ever afters,’ Célia almost groaned.

  ‘I’m high on success,’ Ella said, pulling on Célia’s arm. ‘After Loukas, I thought we might have some client interest, but three secured, and four more speculative?’ Ella let out another childlike exclamation of glee before sweeping a hand over the now definitely visible bump beneath her loose shirt.