by Zara Cox
‘And the rumour that you’ve resigned from six projects in the last month. Is that boredom or because you’ve stretched yourself too thin?’
A watchful gleam entered his eyes. ‘It’s neither. Every partner I’ve dealt with has walked away more than content, not that I owe you an explanation for the way I operate.’
But you owe me an explanation for why you stabbed me in the back for no reason!
I reined in anger and hurt. ‘By the same token, I don’t owe you an explanation on how I approach my relationships.’
We stared each other down for a long silent stretch. Then his mouth twitched. ‘If nothing else, our friction will make for good entertainment.’
I forced a smile. ‘And that’s all that matters in the long run, isn’t it? Good entertainment?’
Another frown attacked his forehead. ‘With all parties walking away with a handful of sound business deals, of course.’
‘Of course,’ I echoed, unable to keep bitterness from staining my voice.
Damian rose and approached. A couple of feet from me, he stopped. This close, with the sun highlighting every feature, it was difficult to look away from his physical perfection. ‘I was under the impression that you were a strong, level-headed woman who wouldn’t let one encounter cloud her business judgment. Are you going to prove me wrong?’ he taunted baldly.
God, I hate, hate, hate Damian Mortimer.
By the skin of my teeth, I managed to pin my smile in place. ‘Are you referring to the same encounter where you played hard to get when I bought you a drink but couldn’t resist showing up at my hotel room afterwards with a hard cock and a couple of tired one-liners?’
Annoyance flared his nostrils. ‘You think telling you you’re beautiful was a glib one-liner?’
I cursed the heat staining my cheeks. ‘I’ve heard more original lines.’
‘It was true then. It’s true now. One thing you should know about me, I believe in the truth at all times, Neve. Even when it’s brutal to hear,’ he said in a deep matter-of-fact voice that still transmitted straight between my legs.
God, how could he be so detached, so insufferable and yet virtually stroke my clit with a few choice words?
My flush deepened. ‘But you believe I’m the type of woman to let flattery or sex get in the way of business? Or do you imagine I’m secretly holding out hope for something else?’
His gaze blazed bright before it dropped to my lips. My stupidly tingling lips. ‘You didn’t exactly hate what happened between us,’ he murmured. ‘You were just as enthusiastic as I was once you let me in.’
I didn’t. And I was. It was what happened the next morning I had a huge problem with. ‘Like you said, Mr Mortimer, whatever friction we create will play well for the cameras. So what are you worried about?’
He visibly reined himself in, a stark look shadowing his eyes before he shook it off. ‘I don’t like surprises. If you’re hiding something up your sleeve...’
I couldn’t help myself. I chuckled.
Irritation sparked his eyes. ‘Did I say something amusing?’
‘Amusing? No. Ironic, yes. You want assurances? Well, I can assure you that it’s going to be one hell of a ride.’
CHAPTER THREE
Damian
STUNNING. EXQUISITE. BREATHTAKING.
Three inadequate words that sprung to mind when I first saw Neve Nolan in my hotel bar two years ago.
Three words that still didn’t do justice to the woman staring me down with fire in her eyes and determination etched into her captivating face.
My unfettered reaction to her then had propelled me to do the unthinkable. I’d dropped my guard. Put myself in a situation I’d known I’d regret the next morning without taking into account how much. Or the mess it would create in the wake of slowly uncovering the truth of what had happened the night I’d supposedly betrayed Gideon.
The growing possibility that I might have been drugged by someone I’d trusted had fucked me up worse than I’d imagined.
Long before that night in Boston, trust had been a shitty mirage I’d given up on. Once upon a time I’d had an innocent child’s trust that my parents would stick around, deliver a modicum of care and attention in a family seething in dysfunction and strife. They hadn’t.
My only truth was hard work and the bone-deep knowledge that everyone in my life had an agenda and a price.
Unsurprising, therefore, that I’d been in a worse than dire mood when Neve had crossed my path.
I’d been reeling from the possibility that there might not be a way of repairing the bridges I’d burned, and my encounter with Neve couldn’t have come at a worse time. Compounding my mistakes by repeating them, by succumbing to that filthy temptation when I should’ve hit the button for my penthouse suite instead of the one that led to Suite 6799... Well, that had been yet another demon I’d been prepared to live with.
But regardless of my personal foibles, I wasn’t a Mortimer in name only. Regardless of my mood, I’d achieved what I’d gone to Boston to do—assess the viability of merging one of Mortimer Group’s smaller but hugely successful companies with Cahill Hotels, and a lesser known outfit. I’d advised Cahill to reject the bid from Cephei in favour of another hotel chain who were a better fit. The Cahill deal was one of many successes that had fattened the family coffers while I’d continued to search for truth and answers.
Now, three long years later, my investigators had exhausted every avenue to find the evidence of Penny’s treachery.
Now Gideon would be forced to listen.
Acid bitterness bit deep, as it did every time I remembered the consequences of letting down my guard.
That particular mushroom cloud still hung above my head, contaminating my every interaction. My family hadn’t exactly shunned me, but it was probably because they didn’t know the full truth.
I sucked in a breath, pulled myself together and refocused on Neve.
She’d signed on the dotted line to participate in Raider’s Den before I had been made aware of her involvement. By then it had been too late to...what? Get her thrown off the show? Further complicate my life with a possible lawsuit?
She wasn’t thrilled to see me. Perhaps I could use that to keep her at arm’s length despite the havoc her close proximity was already wreaking on my libido. Because it was becoming clear that my chaos-loving demons might have severely compromised my judgment when we’d first met, but my body’s unfettered reaction to her when I’d walked into this room today was brazen evidence that the chemistry that’d compelled me to her suite that night still raged strong.
Hell, she was even more spectacular now than she’d been two years ago. My dick had surged to life at the first sight of her, and the damn thing hadn’t subsided since.
Well, too bloody bad.
I was done empire-building on this side of the Atlantic.
My mouth twisted at the thought of what Great-Grandfather Mortimer would’ve made of my particular situation. Probably slapped me on the back with pride that I could still make millions for the family trust even with betrayal staining my bones, my personal life in shreds and my soul in tatters.
I stared into the slate-blue eyes assessing me. She was up to something. The fire burned too bright in her eyes, for starters.
Unfortunately that fire only reminded me of the blaze we’d created, the thrilling noises she’d made when I’d fucked her. As crashing and burning went, the all-night-long fucking in her suite had singed deep, left an indelible mark on my cracked soul.
To make matters worse, the downside of my stringent no-booze-thanks-to-Penny ban meant every sizzling second of our encounter was seared into my memory. Every slide of Neve’s silken skin, every hot gasp as I’d rammed into her unbelievably tight pussy had echoed in my head for a very long time after I’d walked away from her. For weeks, I’d sported a hard-on that
had abated only after a teeth-clenching jerking off.
In another time and place, she would’ve been a prize worth pursuing.
Not today.
Not with a very personal, way-past-due goal of righting wrongs in front of me.
Neve Nolan, with her magnificent body draped in clothes that displayed her very fuckable assets, would be resisted on every front.
Her lips moved, drawing my attention to her plump, lightly glossed mouth. The memory of sliding my cock between those lips, the enthusiastic way she’d sucked me off, almost drew a groan from my throat.
I frowned. ‘Beg your pardon?’
‘I said your phone’s buzzing. You should get that. No doubt your highly exclusive presence is urgently required elsewhere,’ she said dryly.
Yeah, she was seriously pissed about something. Absently, I reached for my phone. One glimpse of the London number and every ounce of my focus shifted.
Chest tightening, I started to press the answer button. Then hesitated.
Neve was watching me, had most likely caught whatever was reflected on my face. I schooled my features. ‘I need to take this. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for the first day of filming.’
Her brisk nod belied the curiosity in her eyes. I watched her walk away, unable to stop my gaze from roaming her backside and jaw-dropping legs as she left the room.
The insistent buzz dragged my attention to the phone.
Aunt Flo. As close to a mother as I could get despite my own mother being alive and well.
I stabbed the answer button. ‘Did you get my message?’
‘You have better manners than that, dear boy,’ she snapped.
I breathed out slowly. ‘It’s been a testy morning.’ My patience was running thin on all fronts.
‘It’s been a testy few years for us all.’
My fingers tightened around the phone. ‘Regardless, the stonewalling ends now. It’s time.’ The oppressive guilt wasn’t getting lighter. It suffocated me even more these days, the passage of time an amplified klaxon I could no longer ignore.
No matter what had happened that night three years ago, it was time to face it.
‘Some would say it’s too little too late. Or too much too soon, depending on which side of the fence you’re standing.’
‘Too bad if my timing isn’t convenient for everyone,’ I snapped, frustrated anger licking through me.
She sighed. ‘It’s never going to be good for one of you. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for taking the bull by the horns.’
The pit in my stomach yawed. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been trying to wrestle this damned bull for three years.’
‘I’m aware. But you may have to give it a little more time. The company is in the middle of a delicate negotiation—’
‘The Russian stadium deal,’ I said. As a top executive, I received regular memos on all high-level deals.
‘Yes. And I have my hands full dealing with some of your more pig-headed relatives on the board, not to mention attempting to manage Gideon.’
Hearing his name tightened the band around my chest. ‘Why does he need managing?’ I asked with more than a little snap. The Gideon I knew could manage the family company I’d been meant to co-head with him in his sleep.
Aunt Flo hesitated, making me grit my teeth. ‘What’s going on, Flo?’
‘Your cousin is suffering a bit of a...regression.’
‘In what way?’
‘In all the bad ways. When he’s not working himself into the ground, he’s partying too much at that private club of his. He’s been spiralling for months. It’s only a matter of time before he completely unravels. The family’s meeting this week to decide—’
‘You better not be thinking of ousting him,’ I butted in icily. ‘Not after everything he’s done for the company.’
‘He won’t be if I have anything to do with it. He’ll hate me for telling you this but I know you’re just as iron-willed as he and liable to do something rash, so this is just to give you context.’
Bitter laughter barked out of me. ‘Rash? I listened when you said relocating to the States was what was best for all. But enough is enough. It’s been three years.’
‘I know it’s been hard for you, son.’
She didn’t know the half of it and I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell her the true extent of what Penny had done. Hell, I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she’d drugged me. That deep suspicion now dictated I checked and rechecked every drink I took in public like some paranoid fucker. ‘Good, then you should know I’m wrapping things up here and I’m coming home in the next few weeks with or without this thing being resolved. I’d prefer the former but it won’t stop me either way.’
‘What did I do to deserve the number of grey hairs you two are dishing out to me?’
A reluctant smile broke through my frustration. ‘I have it on good authority that you have an excellent colourist in Sloane Square.’
‘He’s earned his money in the last few months, that’s for sure,’ she quipped, then sighed again. ‘Gideon is preoccupied with this Russian deal. You occupy yourself with wrapping up your life in America. Leave everything else to me.’
‘For now, Aunt Flo. Understand that I won’t let this be for ever.’ I ended the call nowhere near satisfied by the outcome.
Waves of frustration, anger and guilt rolled over me, followed closely by the yawning pit of despair and shame that inevitably arrived with it. The black hole of unanswered questions didn’t erode the reality that I’d let myself down in the most spectacular way.
Two drinks that had turned into three, then four.
Then...total blackout.
Somewhere along the line that night, I’d let my guard down and trusted Penny Winston-Jones, Gideon’s ex-fiancée.
Only she hadn’t been his ex...
And in so doing had betrayed the one person who meant the most to me.
I gripped my phone tighter, the urge to go against Aunt Flo’s advice pummelling me. Only the reminder that she’d been there for me when my own parents abandoned me stopped me.
She would probably forgive me eventually if I went against her advice but could I afford to add another black mark against me?
I slid my phone back into my pocket just as Rachel, my executive assistant, knocked and entered.
‘Your next appointment is here, sir,’ she announced.
As the primary representative for The Mortimer Group, I’d freed myself from the everyday constraints of a single role to explore deals that would suit the family company. It was meant to be a temporary deviation from my usual role as President of Global Expansion so Jasper, my younger brother, could learn the ropes. The grand plan had been to eventually co-CEO the entire Mortimer Group with Gideon.
In the aftermath of Penny’s treachery, that idea had crashed and burned along with our relationship, resulting in this self-imposed, godforsaken exile. One I intended to end ASAP now my investigators had presented me with the near certain facts of what had happened to me that night.
Briefly, I toyed with cancelling the meeting, calling fuck it to the whole day and burning rubber out of Manhattan. I could head to the Hamptons, grab my surfboard and pound the waves until I was too tired to think. Or I could jump on my plane, head to Colorado, pick a mountain and climb it.
I rejected both ideas. Years of trying had shown the futility of attempting to outrun my demons. Staying right here, pursuing The Mortimer Group’s best interest, would at least bring a modicum of satisfaction.
So I nodded to Rachel. ‘Show him in.’
I’d be done here in another two or three weeks. A month, tops.
Then I intended to throw the gates of hell wide open and confront the devil.
Neve
The warehouse in the Meatpacking District in Manh
attan where the latest series of Raider’s Den was being filmed had been decorated to resemble a pirate ship. Treasure chests with costume jewellery spilt out over red embroidered silk strategically placed around a wide rectangular platform on which were set six throne-like antique leather armchairs.
On the far side of the wall hung two banners with a matte black imprint of a skull and crossbones denoting the show’s name. The rest of the space was draped in blood-red curtains, cherry-oak tables and black, red and white spotlights.
The whole marauder vibe added dramatic tension to the show and even though I wanted to roll my eyes as my heels clicked on the hardwood plank from the audition area towards my designated seat, I had to grudgingly admit that the set designer had done a fabulous job. The scene was perfect. Enough to make me tingle.
Applicants who braved the plank to present their ideas had to bring their A games. The formidable panel wouldn’t be a walk in the park.
I’d arrived an hour early not just to stop the butterflies in my stomach from turning into crows, but also so as not to be wrong-footed in any aspect of this project.
But Damian was already there, seated in prime position in the centre, once again impeccably dressed in a bespoke three-piece suit, one ankle resting casually on his knee.
It would’ve been cheap and snarky to mock his need to project his presence but the chair could easily have been a minor accessory. It in no way detracted from his imposing presence.
He didn’t even need the spotlight poised above his head that would be activated when filming started. From producers to make-up artists to film crew, eyes flickered to him with the frequency of homing beacons.
He remained oblivious to all of it, his gaze on the document he perused.
My heels echoed louder the closer I got to him and he raised his head when I was a few feet away.
Intelligent, piercing hazel eyes flicked to me, dropped in a quick skim over my body before rising. ‘Neve. Glad you made it.’
I delivered a neutral smile. ‘And with a whole hour to spare.’
Long, capable fingers tapped his ankle as his eyes conducted another sweep over me. ‘The commute from out of town wasn’t horrendous, I hope?’