“Um, gosh.” She checked her watch while she racked her mind for a way out. It’s my hair-washing night? “Sure, I’d love to.” She forced a smile.
It was an interesting experience, walking beside him through retail floors, amid the glamorous, well-heeled shoppers. Every female eye swiveled to Dominic, drinking him in, from his slightly unruly black hair to his black wingtip shoes. After about forty-five seconds Bella began to feel like a cheap handbag draped over the arm of a couture- dressed model.
There was definitely such a thing as being too good-looking, she reflected, as another beauty narrowed her heavily made-up eyes at Dominic Hardcastle. The chiseled jaw, the I-just-got- back-from-the-Caribbean tan that no doubt extended well underneath his custom-tailored suit.
It was all a bit too much.
Vulgar, even. Like so many aspects of his father’s glittering retail empire.
“The Moon is on the top floor.” She pressed the button. Tried not to notice how his big body filled the tight space of the private staff elevator. “Do you live in New York?”
“Miami. But I might move up here. I’m doing a lot of business in the city these days. And Tarr—my dad wants me to be close to headquarters.”
Again, the word dad had a forced quality that intrigued her. She knew Tarrant had a daughter, but she’d never heard that he had a son. With security expert Sylvester—who she knew had been with Tarrant since before she was bom—to vouch for him, she knew he must be the genuine article, but why had he suddenly appeared out of nowhere?
She couldn’t help herself. “I don’t mean to pry, but I didn’t know Tarrant had a son.” There, she’d said it. And it was at least fractionally more polite than asking “who the heck are you, anyway?”
“I’m a love child.”
Chapter Two
Bella’s gaze jerked to Dominic’s face. Again that hint of humor simmered in the muscles under his skin. Was he mocking her?
‘Tarrant had a fling with my mom. They met in a club. On the dance floor.”
She’d heard Tarrant had a reputation as the most die-hard partier of the twentieth century.
“At that time he wasn’t so interested in the responsibilities of fatherhood.” His jaw tightened. “But lately it seems he’s had a change of heart.”
Silence thickened the air.
Ping. The sound of the doors opening was possibly the best music she’d heard all year.
Had this total stranger just admitted to her that he was Tarrant Hardcastle’s unwanted bastard son? His oddly intimate confession gave her a strange feeling.
The restaurant was already packed. The wait for reservations had been at least six months since it opened two years earlier.
“Dominic Hardcastle.”
She thought she saw a muscle twitch in his cheek as he said his own name. Curiouser and curiouser.
“Welcome, sir. I’ll seat you at Mr. Hardcastle’s table.” The maitre d’ beamed as Dominic congratulated him on the restaurant’s success and they shared some shoptalk on the way to the table. Did everyone fall at this guy’s feet?
The decor was extravagantly minimalist; a single, perfect banana leaf in a slim black vase was the only centerpiece on each table.
Dominic pulled out a sleek metal chair, then slid it under her as she sat. Of course he’d have to be a perfect gentleman too.
She shook out her napkin. “I guess it’s too early for the moon to make an appearance. The ceiling rolls back to reveal the night sky.”
Dominic looked up. She ignored the muscularity of his neck as it strained his perfectly fitted shirt collar. “Can’t say I’m sorry. I’m not sure I’d want to worry about an owl swooping down to share my filet mignon.” His grin revealed even, white teeth.
“Oh, you don’t have to fret about that. Or mosquitoes. There’s a curved layer of microfine molded plastic to keep intruders out. If you look carefully you can see where it joins the support columns. All part of the design conception.”
Dominic stared at the ceiling with undisguised fascination. “Amazing. Tarrant Hardcastle certainly is a genius, no matter what else you might say about him.” He opened his napkin. “Shall we order champagne?”
The barb about Tarrant left her temporarily speechless. Was he testing her somehow? “Sure, champagne sounds great.”
“You’ll have to tell me what food to choose, since I’m the new kid on the block.”
That boyish grin again.
It was a shame she had no idea what was on the menu. “Supposedly it’s all good. That’s why people are willing to sell their soul to get a table.”
Lucky thing she had an invite to be here. She’d probably already parted with her soul working at Hardcastle Enterprises for an entire year. That she was doing it with a hidden agenda made it a certainty.
The poker-faced waiter handed them each a banana leaf with the night’s dishes handwritten on it.
Dominic studied it for a moment, then started to laugh. “I feel bad for the guy back there with the Sharpie.”
“Sharpie? He’s probably grinding raw pigment to make the ink and sharpening goose feathers into quills.” She couldn’t help sharing a chuckle.
Dominic had three dimples. One in each cheek and one in his chin. Not that she liked dimples or anything.
They ordered—for her the pan-seared scallops and roasted quail, and for him raw oysters and steak tartare.
He raised his glass. “A toast. To the loveliest woman in Hardcastle Enterprises.”
She narrowed her eyes and fought a blush. Bella! How can you fall for a line as well worn as Tarrant Hardcastle’s little black book?
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She raised her glass.
That’s what I’m hoping. Dominic took a sip of champagne. Dry and crisp, an excellent choice.
There was something about this woman he couldn’t put his finger on. Reading people well—spotting their strengths and flaws and maximizing one while minimizing the other—was the skill that enabled him to grow his company so fast and with so much success.
Bella Andrews had a shield up, and apparently she wasn’t going to let it down. Yes, she was out with the boss’s son, but he’d attempted to put her at ease by pointing out that his connection to Tarrant was anything but glamorous.
She hadn’t relaxed one iota. And that intrigued him.
Her pink lips pressed against her champagne glass as she sipped. Not a trace of lipstick.
“I’m surprised you don’t wear cosmetics, given your position.” He leaned back in his chair, to better survey the effect of his comment on her beautifully unpainted face.
She blinked. The tips of her mascara-free eyelashes were golden. “They say you should stay away from your own product.”
“A good rule for drug dealers. Are your products habit-forming?” He had a feeling that looking at the sharp cupid’s bow of her upper lip could be habit-forming.
“I certainly hope so. Repeat business is where we stand to make the most profit.”
“Is Hardcastle expanding its retail outlets?” He said it casually. Managed to keep the words what the hell does Tarrant want with fifty-three bankrupt drugstores? inside his mouth.
“Not that I know of. Our products sell best in upscale department stores and boutique salons. The price point is too high for mass-market retail. I do know Tarrant wants to find more outlets in China.”
“Lack of posh department stores there?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s outside my area of expertise.”
“Which is?”
“Tarr—er, your father hired me to develop new products. He likes to be on the cutting edge.”
“How did he find you?”
She licked her lips, an awkward gesture of hesitation that sent a tongue of heat through his groin. “Um, actually I approached him.”
Her shield had just grown thicker. Apparently he was hovering around some kind of danger zone.
Interesting.
“How did you convince
him to invest in research? Those photon microscopes couldn’t have been cheap.” He leaned forward as the waiter deposited her plate. He could almost smell her alarm over the scent of the sautéed scallops. “You must be very convincing.”
“I told him he had no choice. The market is changing. Nanotechnology makes an entirely different type of cosmetic possible. Smearing cover-up over blemishes will be obsolete once people discover our light-refracting products.”
“Maybe you should take it one step further and invent a cloak of invisibility.”
She blanched. Her fork stopped in midair on its way to her mouth and her brow furrowed.
Dominic’s heart kicked up a notch. “Is that what you’re doing?’
She let out a forced laugh. “Of course not.” She glanced at her scallop, then popped it in her mouth.
Something was definitely up with this one. Doing something she wasn’t supposed to. The question remained whether Tarrant was in on it, or not.
He picked up an oyster shell. Stared right at her while he sipped the cool, slippery creature into his mouth and swallowed it whole.
She didn’t blink, but her lips parted. She dragged her eyes away and snatched up her water glass.
“You’re young to be in such a position of authority.” He sipped his champagne. “You must be smart.”
Maybe too smart for the good of the company.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She shrugged again and her slim shoulders moved inside her silky blouse. The soft fabric slid over the breasts.
“You’re no slouch yourself.” She speared another scallop. “I overheard you talking to the retail associates about your business. For someone who didn’t grow up inside the Hardcastle empire you seem to have done well for yourself.”
“I do all right.”
Bella watched him knock back another oyster. She blinked as he swallowed it and it slid down his throat.
As she’d guessed in the lab, this man liked his food raw. He must enjoy living on the edge. Nothing added an adrenaline rush to a meal like the possibility of an invigorating dose of botulism.
She couldn’t let herself be sidetracked by his quietly admiring glances. She had a growing suspicion that if Dominic Hardcastle got the chance, he’d eat her alive. He was the enemy. His father destroyed her father. If he knew what she was up to he’d chew her up and spit her out without a second thought.
She blew out a breath and ate her last scallop.
Funny how just the way a man looked at you could make you feel like...a woman.
She must have been spending too much time in the lab with scientists who got turned on by photons rather than by humans. She dressed to impress every day just to fly under the radar at Hardcastle, and she was used to the cool stares of appraisal that rewarded her efforts. They didn’t compare in any way with the raw, earthy appreciation she read in Dominic Hardcastle’s gaze.
“How did you get into retail?” she asked, to get her mind off the way his long-lashed eyes heated her skin with their steady regard.
“Necessity.” He lifted another oyster shell to his lips and leveled a dark look at her. “I started selling stuff in the playground when I was eight. You see, I had this deadbeat dad who didn’t pitch in, so I had to help my mom.”
He tipped the oyster into his mouth and gulped it down. “Touching.” She sipped her champagne to distract herself from the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
“Yeah.” His dimples appeared. “Then I got bitten by the capitalist bug. Never looked back. When I was fifteen I convinced my mom to give me my Catholic school fees and let me go to the public school instead. I figured I could turn that cash into enough money to go to college and start my own business.”
“And she let you?”
“She wasn’t happy about it, but she’s never regretted it.”
“Guess you make a case for nature over nurture. What made Tarrant track you down after all these years?”
“I’m sure you know he has terminal prostate cancer. He’s been given a few months to live and that made him realize you can’t take it with you. Apparently he’s looking for someone to hand the jeweled scepter to.”
Of course she knew. Everyone did. The dilemma of who would inherit his empire had been front-page news since the story of his illness broke.
Not that anyone in the company would dare utter a word about it within these hallowed walls.
But something bugged her. “Doesn’t he have a daughter?”
“Yes. Fiona. But she’s young. Maybe he thinks she’s too inexperienced?”
“Or maybe he wants a male heir?”
Dominic’s brows lowered. “He certainly never had any interest in one before. After denying paternity for thirty-two years he’s suddenly decided to clutch me to his well-clad bosom.”
“He literally denied paternity?”
“Yup.” Dominic’s hard-edged expression didn’t falter.
She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have a parent refuse your existence. Her parents had always been her closest friends in the world.
It hurt so much that her dad was gone. And that her mom was... She took in a deep breath to banish a dangerous surge of emotion. “Did your mother ever try to take him to court?”
“She tried. She wanted to send me to a decent school. She was hoping to get some money to move us to a better neighborhood or pay for private school. Tarrant’s lawyers got the case thrown out of court.”
“How did they do that?”
His jaw hardened. “It was before DNA. They just laughed off the idea that a big shot like Tarrant Hardcastle would be fooling around with an ordinary girl from Brooklyn, and the judge believed him.”
Bella let out a slow breath. “I’d be mad.”
Something flickered in his eyes. “Yeah.” He picked up his champagne glass and knocked the rest of it back. “Lucky thing I’ve got better things to worry about, huh?”
“They do say living well is the best revenge.”
“Then I guess we’re both getting revenge on someone.” A crooked smile slid across his lips.
Chapter Three
If you only knew.
Bella watched silently as the waiter put plates, artfully arranged with their expensive entrees, in front of them and placed another champagne bottle in the bucket of ice.
Living well didn’t mean a thing if there was a white flame of anger burning inside you. Her father had been so close to fulfilling his dream. After enduring decades of snide laughter from peers and so-called colleagues, he’d finally come within reach of manipulating particles to alter their surface properties.
Even his fantasy of a cloak of invisibility was no longer a laughing matter.
Then Tarrant Hardcastle had bullied him into selling his life’s work for a pittance. With his dreams gone, he succumbed to undiagnosed heart disease and was gone within months.
Her chest tightened. She wouldn’t wish that death on anyone, not even Tarrant Hardcastle. But she would get her father’s work back and make his dream come true.
She owed it to him.
A long shadow across the tablecloth jolted her back to reality.
“Dominic!” Two striking women materialized next to him, one on each side. A statuesque redhead in a tight green number bent to kiss his cheek, while an ebony-skinned beauty in a slinky cream sheath grabbed his hand. “You didn’t tell us you were coming to town. We’ll have to punish you.” Her accent sounded French.
Dominic put down his fork, rose and gave each girl an intimate kiss on the cheek. Bella stabbed her innocent quail as a wave of irritation rose in her chest.
Dominic’s dimples appeared. “Bella, I’d like you to meet two of my best clients.”
Two arms as long as javelins stuck out at her and she shook their perfectly manicured hands. Luckily she managed not to cut herself on the array of sparkling rocks decorating their shapely fingers.
Dominic introduced them and both their names sounded vaguely familiar. Probably former
supermodels.
As they towered over her, Bella’s contact lenses seemed to morph back into the thick glasses she’d worn as a teen. Her blouse and skirt felt as glamorous as her lab coat. And she’d dared to imagine that Dominic Hardcastle was attracted to her?
Must be delusional.
She shoved a loose strand of hair off her forehead. “Nice to meet you. Dominic asked me to show him around Hardcastle Enterprises. He wanted to try the restaurant.” She blushed, suddenly feeling pathetic that she had to explain what a man like Dominic would be doing in an expensive restaurant with a nondescript scientist.
“Bella’s a genius.” Dominic had his arms around both hourglass waists. “She’s in charge of cosmetics research. She’s going to make everyone in the world beautiful.”
Bella’s face heated further. Apparently he also felt the need to excuse her dullness.
“Would you like to join us?” She spoke up, her voice a little squeaky. She knew Dominic would rather be with them than her.
Dominic’s smile disappeared and he lifted a brow at her.
“We can’t, darling!” The redhead seized the opportunity to kiss his cheek again. “We’re just passing through on the way to tonight’s party.”
“They’re event planners,” Dominic explained. “They love to serve my products and pretend they paid a fortune for them.”
The cream-dress girl leaned toward him. “Don’t tell anyone how much you charge for the mushroom paté.” Her French accent gave her words an air of sexy conspiracy. “The hostess is crazy for it. She thinks we buy it from Paris by the ounce.”
“It’ll be our secret that it’s two-fifty for a half-pound tub.” Dominic’s dimples showed. “I doubt one of your clients would ever go into an actual store, anyway. They have ‘people’ for that.”
The two beauties threw their heads back in musical laughter.
Bella took a bracing swig of her champagne. She’d seen his stores here and there—Trader Dan’s, was that the name?—but had never actually been in one. Apparently she’d been missing out.
She was in danger of shrinking out of existence altogether when the girls chimed, “Must fly!” They kissed him on both cheeks, then back on the first one. Three kisses. Each.
Volatile Chemistry (Billionaires' Secrets Book 1) Page 2