Billion dollar baby bargain.txt

by Неизвестный

  than me and Victor’s real son.”

  She smiled tentatively. “I’m sure your stepfather thinks you’re just as—”

  “Don’t.”

  Her smile slowly faded. “I’m just trying to—”

  “You don’t read the tabloids, do you?”

  Mutely she shook her head.

  “Zac left VP Tech a few years back,” he said less harshly. “From what I hear he started up his own

  company on the Gold Coast.”

  I stayed. I remained loyal. And yet Victor still insists on playing this stupid game with the future of the

  company.

  “Have you spoken to him?”

  “What?” He shook his head, trying to dislodge the remnants of bitterness.

  “Have you spoken to Zac since he left?” She studied him way too closely, a thread of concern in her

  bright blue eyes. “You’re brothers. Don’t you—”

  “No. We need to get going if we’re to make our reservation,” he said gruffly, glancing away with an odd

  sense of guilt.

  Ava hesitated for a brief second as he held out his hand. When she finally took it and he gently pulled

  her to her feet, she sucked in a breath. There it was again—the jolt of heat, the quickening of her

  heartbeat, the low ache of desire in her belly. When she instinctively placed a hand on her stomach, his

  eyes followed.

  “Can you…feel anything?”

  The sudden flash of wonder in his face was a low, primeval blow, leaving her breathless. What she felt

  had nothing yet everything to do with the life growing inside her. Her body was changing, growing, and

  hot, dark need throbbed through her veins. Her skin itched to be touched, to be kissed. By this man.

  And there was no way she’d admit that, not when it’d taken all the control she possessed to recover from

  that near kiss.

  “Just a few…flutters,” she managed. “It’s normal in the first trimester.”

  “Do you need anything?”

  You. “No.”

  Ava swallowed thickly as he placed a hand on her back, guiding her into the apartment. Great. Just

  great. How on earth was she going to survive another thirty-one weeks of this?

  “Do you have a special diet?”

  She closed her eyes briefly as the warm brand of his palm seared through her thin dress. “No caffeine or

  shellfish. Lots of greens, water. And sleep. I’ve been spending a lot of time in bed…”

  She glanced up, caught his flash of amusement and felt her skin prickle hotly.

  Get a grip, Ava! It was just…biological. Hormonal. He was a great-looking guy and her body

  instinctively responded to that. That’s all.

  When she reached to grab her wrap draped across the back of his leather couch, she noticed a small

  velvet box perched on top. Her eyes flew to his.

  “To add reality to our newly engaged bliss,” he explained, plucking the box from her fingers and

  flicking it open.

  Despite herself, she gasped. There, nestled on a bed of black velvet, was the most gorgeous ring she’d

  ever seen. It was stunning in its simplicity: a claw-set single teardrop diamond, the gold band studded

  with tiny emeralds. It must be worth thousands…or more. She hesitated, almost afraid to touch it, until

  Cal eased the ring from its nest and held it out.

  “It’s beautiful,” she sighed.

  “I know.” She glanced up, only to lose herself in the dark drug of his unfathomable eyes. Quickly she

  refocused on the ring, willing her hand not to shake as he slid it over her knuckle. It sat there, winking at

  her, teasing with its carat-laden sparkle.

  “A little loose,” he murmured, still holding her fingertips as he ran his thumb over the band. Shivers

  tripped down her skin and she gently eased away.

  “Not for long.” At his questioning look, she added, “Weight gain.”

  “Ahh.”

  When his mouth tilted, the overwhelming need to kiss him stunned her. It shouldn’t be. But there it was.

  Her whole body tingled with awareness, making her skin burn from the inside. She’d read about

  pregnancy hormones heightening a woman’s sexual appetite, had laughingly listened to the explicit

  stories her married girlfriends had revealed. But were those hormones supposed to be this intense? Like

  she had a sudden need to rip off her clothes and demand he ravish her on the floor?

  She wanted him. Craved him, even. Like she was a chocolate addict, and one taste just hadn’t been

  enough.

  A groan rattled in her throat. She couldn’t give in to a moment of weakness, no matter how amazing it

  promised to be. Sleeping with a man who thought her capable of blackmail would leave a deep and

  lasting scar, and she’d had enough of those to last a lifetime.

  With supreme control she took one step back, away from the warm intimacy that had enveloped them as

  they stood almost touching. She drew her wrap around her, wishing it were solid armour.

  “Shall we go?”

  A shutter fell over his face, his nod cool and curt. And just like that, the moment was broken. But damn,

  a part of her wished it hadn’t, wished she possessed the worldliness, the detachment to make the first

  move and bring relief to her growing need.

  But as Cal coolly guided her out the door, she’d have to instead focus on the night ahead, and put all her

  energies into getting through it.

  Four

  D etermined to follow Cal’s lead and ignore the whispered glances that accompanied their journey

  through Tetsuya’s, Ava lifted her chin and kept walking, fully aware of his warm, possessive hand on

  the small of her back guiding her forward. Then they were inside the private dining room and the door

  was closed with a discreet click.

  She got a glimpse of the interior—sparsely elegant, with delicious aromas coming from the warming

  station at the far end—before Cal looped an arm around her waist. It was an intimate brand of

  ownership, one that did nothing to quash the butterflies in her stomach, and she itched to squirm away.

  But then he was saying, “Ava. I’d like you to meet my mother, Isabelle,” and her fate was sealed.

  A deep breath calmed her panic, leaving behind nervous anticipation. Isabelle Prescott had to be in her

  fifties at least, but moved with the grace and charm of someone decades younger. Outwardly, she looked

  perfect, from the hem of her elegant black knee-length shift dress to the top of her perfectly made-up

  face, surrounded by a fashionably choppy blond bob. As Ava expected, the woman was manicured,

  perfumed and dressed like a million bucks. Yet when she tilted up to greet Cal with a kiss, her smile

  radiated genuine joy.

  To Ava’s relief, when she turned to Ava that smile never faltered.

  “Ava, I’m delighted to meet you. I’m so happy for you both.”

  She barely had time to be surprised by the older woman leaning in to bestow a kiss to her cheek before

  Cal introduced Victor and a steely handshake engulfed her hand.

  Cal was a man who oozed natural command and confidence, a man used to giving directions and having

  them obeyed without question. Now she knew where he’d learnt it from. The persona of Victor Prescott

  was just as large as the real-life man himself. His broad, imposing presence was immaculately suited, his

  grey hair precisely cut, his moustache trimmed. A pair of intelligent blue eyes summed her up in half a

  second and, determined not to wither under that gaze, Ava returned his handshake firmly and met it.
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br />   When he smiled the action didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “Congratulations, Ms. Reilly.”

  What an odd thing to say. She shot a glance at Cal. “For…?”

  “For being the woman to finally catch my son. He’s been notoriously single for too many years.”

  A tense look passed between the two men before Cal broke it. He took Ava’s arm with firm gentleness.

  “Let’s be seated.”

  With Cal seated next to her and Isabelle and Victor directly opposite, the meal began. To Ava’s surprise,

  there were no menus, just a discreet waiter serving the first of what was to be ten courses from the

  restaurant’s famous degustation menu.

  “Venison, beef.” Cal named the tiny helpings on her plate, his murmur soft and intimate in her ear. “The

  others are fish.”

  “So, Ava,” Isabelle began as she dipped her spoon in the gazpacho. “Are you from Sydney?”

  “Born and bred near Dubbo, actually.”

  “A country girl…I like that.” Isabelle smiled. “So a city this size would seem a little crazy to you.”

  Ava slid a glance to Cal, who seemed intent on her answer. “It’s large. Noisy. But,” she added quickly

  with a smile, “very beautiful. Sydney’s harbour view is like no other.”

  As she finished the rest of her bio, Ava was acutely aware of the attention she commanded. The scrutiny

  that worried her most, though, was Victor’s. Reputation aside, the man had a way of intimidating with

  just a look and the slight raising of an eyebrow. He let Isabelle ask all the questions, only interjecting to

  question her about Jindalee’s past incarnation as a sheep station.

  As the meal wore on, and despite the glorious food—Ava had never tasted beef so wonderfully spiced

  before—she sensed an underlying tension settle over their table. She frequently caught a guarded

  sharpness in Cal’s eyes, as if he was waiting for something to happen, for someone to say something.

  She glanced over at Victor. The man eyed them both with speculation, a look that had frequented the

  meal. One that had first alarmed but now just plain irritated her.

  On the flip side, Isabelle was a genuinely lovely woman. Cal’s obvious love and respect shone through

  like the sun on an overcast day. It was the way her whole face creased with humor when she spoke, the

  way his expression softened. She was obviously the catalyst between two equally forceful and stubborn

  males.

  “And the poor man was covered in Béarnaise sauce!” Isabelle concluded her anecdote with a laugh,

  prompting Cal into a deep chuckle. Ava smiled through the tiny pang that speared her, forcing her eyes

  away. They landed on Victor, only to find him studying her with sharp intensity.

  Quickly she dropped her gaze to her plate.

  “You don’t like seafood?” Victor said suddenly. All eyes went to him, then to Ava’s plate, where she’d

  eaten the salad but left the shellfish.

  Ava gave Cal a startled look. “I…”

  “No, she doesn’t.” Cal answered smoothly, placing a warm hand over hers on the table. Calm down, the

  small gesture seemed to say. I’m here.

  Victor snorted. “Well, I’ve never known a woman to refuse dessert.” His gaze became perceptive.

  “Chocolate cognac mousse…”

  “Ava doesn’t drink alcohol,” Cal said smoothly.

  “…and a superior cappuccino.”

  “Or caffeine.”

  Victor slowly raised the napkin to his mouth, dabbed, then folded it precisely on the table.

  “I see. So to summarize this evening—you’re attractive, single, have no discernible indulgences and run

  a small business while supporting your aunt and the local community. Do you have any vices, Ms.

  Reilly, or can I assume you’re—” he held her panicky gaze in calculating summary “—absolutely

  perfect for my son?”

  Cal’s hand tightened over hers. “Oh, for God’s sake, Victor, that’s enough. She’s—”

  “Cal, no,” she murmured, urging the well of panic back down.

  He glanced at her then continued calmly. “Ava hasn’t been well the last few days.”

  Victor’s chair screeched across the floor as he abruptly stood. “Cal—a word?”

  Cal nodded, rose fluidly to his feet and followed Victor across the room, out of earshot. Even knowing

  Cal for just a few days, she could still see something simmer below the well-groomed, polite surface.

  Something angry and resentful.

  Ava’s stomach sank, aided by Victor’s cynical words, loaded to the brim with innuendo. She stared at

  her plate as the meal congealed in her stomach. It shouldn’t matter what that man thought of her, but it

  did. Painfully so.

  “I hope you’re feeling better.” Isabelle’s hand on her arm startled her and when she met the woman’s

  warm brown eyes, they were fraught with concern.

  The little white lie twisted inside. “Just a bug.”

  “I’m sorry if what Victor said upset you. He’s just being protective of Cal. It’s nothing personal.”

  “Well,” Ava cleared her throat, emotion clogging it, “it sure felt like it.”

  Isabelle gave her a small smile. “I know. Victor can be a little…autocratic. Abrasive, even. But he’s a

  man used to running a billion-dollar business. Sometimes it’s hard to—” she gave an elegant shrug “—

  shut that off.”

  “Can I ask you a personal question?” Ava said impulsively. At Isabelle’s nod, she said, “You and Victor

  are so different…” She paused, not wanting to offend, but the other woman’s smile drove her onward.

  “How did you and Victor meet?”

  Isabelle laughed. “We are different, there’s no doubt about that. Cal was six when his father ran out. We

  never married, so there I was, five years later, a single mum and working at a winery on the north coast.

  Victor was looking to buy it, he saw me serving in the café and—” She trailed off, her face soft with

  remembrance. “We fell in love. People scoff at love at first sight, but truly, that’s what it was. As you

  probably know,” she added with a sparkle in her eyes. “Like you and Cal, I had no idea who Victor was.

  He didn’t know about my life, about my son. But we fell in love and that was it. We were married a year

  later, when Cal turned twelve.”

  Ava couldn’t help but smile at the woman’s misty-eyed reminiscence. “He swept you off your feet.”

  “And he didn’t take no for an answer—not that I didn’t make him jump through a few hoops first.” She

  arched a brow in a woman-to-woman look before taking a sip of her wine.

  Ava nodded with a smile and finished the rest of her water. It surprised her that this warm, intelligent

  woman was married to a man like Victor Prescott. Yet there’d been a few times she’d spotted the cracks

  in the man’s ice-hard facade: When Isabelle had reached out to squeeze his hand and he’d returned the

  grip firmly. Her animated retelling of a story that relaxed his craggy face, softening the controlled lines.

  Yet in the next moment, the mask returned and he was back to studying Ava like she was a particularly

  fascinating bug under his microscope.

  Isabelle tapped her hand on the table, bringing Ava’s attention to the sparkling wedding set on her ring

  finger. “Ava, I know it’s short notice, but would you like to go shopping with me tomorrow?”

  Shopping? She glanced over to where Cal and Victor were still talking in hushed animation, then

  returned to Isabelle.

  “We c
an buy heaps of shoes, drink cappuccino and people-watch,” Isabelle teased, with a gleam in her

  eye. “Uh!” She gestured with mock severity when Ava opened her mouth. “Don’t tell me. You’re a

  handbag girl instead.”

  Ava laughed then. She wanted to know more about Cal, so what better way to get a handle on him than

  through his mother? “Sure. Shopping it is.”

  “Excellent!” Isabelle beamed. “Do you have any preferences?”

  “Somewhere…inexpensive?”

  Isabelle laughed and laid a hand on Ava’s. “Think of it as Cal’s treat. He can afford to indulge his

  fiancée, after all. And I promise we’ll find something you love.”

  “Are you ready to go?” Cal said suddenly. Startled, she glanced up, only to find his expression shuttered

  down tight. She nodded and rose to her feet.

  “No coffee?” Isabelle asked, surprised.

  “Can’t—early start tomorrow. I’ll see you later, Mum.” Cal placed a quick kiss on his mother’s cheek

  then nodded curtly at Victor.

  “I’ll send a car for you at eight,” Isabelle said as Cal placed Ava’s wrap around her shoulders. “Retail

  therapy,” she added at her son’s questioning look. And then Cal was gently but firmly guiding her from

  the room.

  The ride back to Cal’s apartment was heavy with expectancy. Ava waited for Cal to reveal what he and

  Victor had discussed in muted anger at the restaurant, but she was still waiting by the time they’d

  entered the apartment elevator.

  “Are you going to tell me what Victor said?”

  As the elevator doors slid closed Cal swung his loaded gaze to her, holding it in silent analysis. Despite

  the awkward, drawn-out moment, she refused to back down.

  He jammed a finger on the top-floor button again. “Victor had doubts about our marriage, our…” his

  gaze lingered on her mouth, “compatibility. I rebutted them.”

  Ava felt the sudden urge to lick her lips but instead nibbled on the inside of her cheek. “It looked pretty

  heated.”

  He shrugged and went back to staring at the blinking numbers as they ascended. “That’s Victor—can’t

  stand people disagreeing with him.” He crossed his arms, still focused on the floors. “I suppose you’ll