Bella tilted her head. Her eyes darkened. “My mother sacrificed a lot so Dad could focus on his work. It’s been hard for her, very hard....” Her lip started to quiver and she bit it.
“And how do you plan to get money from Tarrant, now that he already bought the research?”
“It’s not only about the money. It’s about my dad’s legacy. I’ll prove Tarrant forced my father into selling against his will and then the courts will restore his work to my family.”
Alarm mixed with amusement made him snort. “You’re going to sue Hardcastle Enterprises?”
She held his gaze, her gray eyes unblinking. “Yes. I know a judge will do the right thing.”
“Sounds to me like you have way too much faith in the legal system and not nearly enough in Tarrant’s utter ruthlessness. Did you find what you need?”
She swallowed. “Not yet. Are you going to have me fired?” Her lips pressed together.
“Me? Oh, yeah, the son and heir. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do with you.”
Kiss you again, maybe.
“I know I’m close. I’ve been through nearly all the files. I’ll probably find it tonight, then you’ll never have to see me again.” “You think I should just let you get away with this?” He tilted his head.
“If you believe in justice.” Her gaze dared him to challenge her.
“I’m a businessman. I believe in profits.”
It would be only too easy to take her side against Tarrant Hardcastle. If it wasn’t for his knack for business, his own mother would still be struggling.
Still, her deceit intrigued him. “You worked here a whole year to get to this point?”
She licked her lips, a hesitant flick of the tongue which sent a shiver of lust to his groin. “The files used to be stored offsite. It took a few months to get them moved here.”
“You haven’t answered my question. Did you take this position, work here all this time, taking Tarrant’s money—just so you could gather evidence for a lawsuit?”
“I’ve performed my duties to the best of my ability.”
“Apparently you’ve done a damn good job of it. Tarrant thinks the sun shines out of your ass.”
She blinked at his crude expression. At least something rattled her. Her cold-blooded deception appalled him—and intrigued him.
She straightened her shoulders. “We’ve made a lot of progress.”
“You are one cool customer. How can you sit in meetings with the man when you’re planning to sue him?”
“It’s not personal. It’s a matter of business.”
Indeed. He could hardly point the finger of accusation. He’d come here with his own agenda: to take back something that Tarrant stole-—even though he technically bought it—from him.
He leaned in the doorway of the file room, crowding her. Looked down on her from his six-foot, two-inch vantage point. “Maybe we can make a deal?”
Chapter Five
Bella’s heart thumped so hard she could hear the blood pounding in her skull.
Was she an idiot?
She should have made something up. A little white lie to send him off course. Now that she’d told him the truth he could go back to his father and Tarrant could prepare his vast legal staff for warfare.
A “deal"?
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I agree not to rat you out, you agree to...” He tilted his head and narrowed those pitch-dark eyes.
Her nipples swelled against the smooth nylon of her sturdy, practical bra. She swallowed hard.
“What?” she choked out.
His low chuckle rumbled through the tension-heavy air. She became acutely conscious of how much taller than her he was. A good eight inches, especially with her standing here like an idiot in her stocking feet.
“I’ve noticed Tarrant only hires beautiful women. Why is that?”
“He’s always concerned about the company’s image.”
Dominic crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Likes to have everyone around him fit the ‘brand’?”
His penetrating gaze made her painfully conscious of her blunt-cut hair and well-upholstered body. “I’m not sure why he made an exception in my case.”
“Trust me. No exception was made.” A dimple appeared in his right cheek. “I guess he’s only getting what he asks for when he hires staff because of their looks rather than their reputation.” He frowned. “Where’d the name Andrews come from? Are you married?”
She saw his eyes flick to her left hand. “No! Do you think I’d have kissed you if I was married?”
“I have no idea what you’d do, sweetheart. Especially since we’ve established that you’re here under false pretenses.”
She sucked in a breath. “Andrews is my mother’s maiden name. My name is Bella Soros, almost exactly like my dad’s. Tarrant wouldn’t have hired me if he knew that.”
“How do you know he wouldn’t have been delighted to have you continue your dad’s work?”
“My mom approached Tarrant when my father was sick. She asked him if my dad could come work here. She was so sure that being back amongst his tools and test tubes would give him the strength to recover. Tarrant told her to get lost.”
“Sounds like my loving father all right.”
Something in his expression lit a thin ray of hope in her heart. “So you understand?”
Dominic tipped his head back, studied her down the length of his proud nose. “Sure. I understand. I’m not saying I approve.” He raised an eyebrow.
All she needed was another few days. Since the files had arrived she’d been combing through them every free moment when no one was around. She only had two more drawers to search. She’d copied at least a thousand pages of her dad’s decades-long research to prove the extent of the intellectual property Tarrant swindled him out of. All that remained was to find the amount he’d been paid. Her impractical father and flighty mother had kept few of their personal financial records.
“But you’ll keep my secret.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Like I said, we can make a deal.” His dark eyes drifted over her face. Grazed her lips and roamed over her neck. Her skin heated.
He wants to sleep with you.
She could read it in his face as clearly as if he’d said it.
Maybe he was one of those men who just had to conquer every woman that crossed his path? Tarrant Hardcastle was rumored to be such a man, though his terminal illness—not to mention his very young and beautiful third wife—had put a damper on his womanizing ways.
Bella had worked here for a solid year. Smiled in the face of the man who’d destroyed—who’d killed—her father. But she had her reasons. Surely she could go one extra step to safeguard everything her mother loved so dearly.
Her fingers and toes stung with panic. She’d come too far to lose it all now. If she could keep him quiet for a few days she’d be done.
Do it.
She took a step toward him and tilted her face upwards. Held her breath as she offered her mouth to him.
One dark brow lifted.
Had she read him wrong?
Her answer came when his lips crushed hotly over hers.
The breath evaporated from her lungs. His big hand settled crudely on her backside and he tugged her close enough for her breasts to wrinkle his starched shirtfront.
Dominic didn’t smell like the expensive cologne they sold downstairs. His scent was raw—rough and feral—the aroma of undiluted lust.
His tongue grazed her teeth and sent a shiver of sensation to her toes. Bella found herself on tiptoe, reaching up to deepen the kiss as he craned his neck down to meet her. Her legs trembled from the strain and from the breathless wave of desire that washed over her.
He pulled back first. Simply lifted his head and left her standing there, lips angled toward the recessed light fixture in the ceiling.
She flushed and slammed her lips together.
Dominic’s dimples w
ere strangely absent. And something glittered in his near-black eyes.
“Gosh. I must go. My train.” Her words trickled out like drips from a faucet. Her brain seemed to have seized up.
She lunged for her briefcase.
“Not so fast, princess. It’s dark out. I’ll get you a cab.”
“I prefer to walk.”
“Then I’ll walk you.”
Dominic guided her out of the lab with his palm. Her walk reflected her personality: prim, elegant, guarded. They didn’t speak a word in the bright elevator. She held her head in profile to him, her kissed lips still red.
Maybe we can make a deal?
She’d thought he meant to bargain with sex.
He battled the smile that kept wanting to rip across his mouth. How far would she have gone—in that cramped file room—if he’d pressed the point?
She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d trade her body for a simple promise. A promise he hadn’t even offered.
And what a body.
She was slim, but not in the scrawny way of Tarrant’s ex-supermodel cohorts. Her long legs were muscled and shapely, her waist an hourglass dip between full, feminine hips and high, rounded breasts.
He couldn’t keep his eyes off her curvy rear, and the way the fabric of her fitted skirt shifted over it in rhythmic movements as she strode out of the elevator.
Down boy.
She murmured a polite goodbye to the security guard in the deserted lobby. Dominic took her arm, despite her momentary protest, as they exited to the dark street.
Muggy summer heat lingered in the air. “So you won’t tell?” she whispered.
“I’ve made no promises.” He tightened his arm around hers as she tried to pull away. “But I think we’re on our way to an arrangement that will work for both of us.”
If she’d turned to look at him, the reflected light from the street lamps might have picked out an evil gleam in his eye.
She marched with determined speed, her heels clicking over the pavement. “What time’s your train?”
“Eleven-twenty.” She didn’t turn to look at him.
“You live in Westchester?”
“It’s where my mom’s house is.”
“The house she’s about to lose.”
“It’s a nice house, not big and fancy at all, but the way taxes are these days...” She sucked in a breath. “She has a lovely garden she’s put two decades of work into. It would kill me to see her have to give it up.”
Dominic glanced at her. Determination strengthened her elegant features. “I think it would take more than that to kill you.”
“You don’t know me.” Her accusing stare made his five o’clock stubble prickle.
“True.” He frowned. “Is Tarrant a tough boss to work for?”
“Not really. He leaves me alone to run the lab the way I want.”
“He trusts you.”
A tiny wrinkle marred her smooth forehead. “Yes. I suppose he does.”
“I guess every man’s a fool sometimes.”
Chapter Six
Dominic climbed the marble steps of the El Cubano cigar bar on Fifth Avenue. Tarrant Hardcastle might only have a few months left to live, but he still liked to see and be seen. Despite the acres of retail space and plush corporate offices Tarrant owned a few blocks away, he spent a good portion of each day kicking back in his personal armchair at this mecca for the wealthy and self-indulgent.
Without asking, Tarrant had secured him an impossible-to- get membership. Now, although he’d never smoked anything in his life, there was a polished wood humidor with Dominic’s name emblazoned on it in engraved gold plate.
Well, the name Dominic Hardcastle.
Glittering there among the names of Hollywood bad boys and Capitol Hill big-wigs, that name gave him a stomach- churning dose of mixed feelings.
“Good morning, Mr. Hardcastle. Can I get you a drink?”
He shook his head at the immaculately attired waiter. He didn’t need alcohol. His head hadn’t stopped spinning since last night, when a brunette scientist with a soft pink mouth and a twisted agenda had knocked him right off kilter.
He’d kissed her again at Grand Central. Fast, hot and hard. Then she ran for her platform and left him there, aching.
He shoved a hand through his hair, tried to dispel the stray energy that cramped his muscles.
“Dominic!” Tarrant Hardcastle held up his arms, as if welcoming the long-lost prodigal back to the fold.
Dominic moved toward him, jaw rigid. He wasn’t the prodigal. He was the steady, hardworking son who’d hung in there the whole time, only to have the rules change when he wasn’t looking.
“Wonderful to see you, dear boy!”
Tarrant grasped Dominic’s hand between both of his. The glowing man-about-town who ornamented the pages of various glossy Condé Nast publications seemed thinner. He’d recently let his hair turn gray, which made him look his sixty-seven years.
“Are you sure I can’t tempt you down the road to ruin with one of these magnificent Havanas?” He waved a fat stogie in Dominic’s direction. The state-of-the-art ventilation system prevented even a whiff of smoke from straying into the air.
Dominic shook his head. He couldn’t help an indulgent smile. It was easy to see how Tarrant’s childlike enthusiasm for everything charmed the socks off people around him. “Good, good. Don’t want you to get the big C like your old man.” Tarrant patted his arm.
His chest tight, Dominic settled into the leather armchair. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the treetops of Central Park.
“So you saw the lab, huh? What d’ya think?”
“Impressive.”
“That Bella Andrews is a firecracker. Could have gone anywhere with a research and business background like hers. Zurich, the Mayo—but no, she wanted to come to Hardcastle. Came to me, don’t you know?” His satisfied grin revealed two rows of gleaming capped teeth. “Damned fine gal.”
Dominic wondered if his father had always talked like an escapee from an Agatha Christie movie, or if his mode of speech was newly adopted to complement the silver hair. He suspected the latter.
“Yeah. She’s smart.” Shame she’s planning to take you to the cleaners.
Though whatever she claimed would no doubt be pocket change to Tarrant.
“I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you here.” Tarrant wrapped long fingers around Dominic’s. “I’m only sorry it took my illness to bring me to my senses. When you’re in a certain position, there’s a tendency for everyone to want to dip their fingers in your pockets, like they have a right to your hard-earned money. That made me so defensive I pushed away the people who should have meant the most to me.”
Emotion thickened his voice and made Dominic look up. Tarrant’s blue-green eyes glittered with moisture.
Dominic swallowed. He’d wanted a dad desperately when he was a kid. Other kids had fathers who at least visited them on weekends or sent presents on their birthdays.
Not him.
For years he’d searched the mail for a birthday card, listened for a phone call. He’d imagined himself glancing up during his first communion, or the time his Little League team made the regional finals, always hoping he’d see a tall man standing there watching him.
Never happened.
His mom had told him his father’s name when he plucked up the courage to ask. When he saw an article about Tarrant Hardcastle in the paper one day, he clipped it. He’d stared at the grainy newsprint image of that handsome face, imagining far-fetched reasons why his dad hadn’t come to claim him. He even started a scrapbook, gathering information and images to piece together a picture of the father he longed for.
At fifteen, after nursing resentment mingled with painful hope for several months, he’d angrily accused his mother of keeping his existence a secret, at which point she’d sadly and gently told him about the rejected paternity suit and shown him the court papers as proof.
He’d
burned his scrapbook in the backyard brazier his mom used for destroying trash. Since then he’d avoided anything to do with Tarrant Hardcastle.
Now that he was grown up and didn’t need or want a father any more, he’d turned up.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come, you know?” Dominic’s heart squeezed as Tarrant patted his hand. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know that. I’m not asking for it either. I just want to share what I’ve created.”
Tarrant took a deep breath and lifted his chin. The morning sun played over his weathered skin. “I put my life into this company. Ate, slept and breathed it. It was my child.” He fixed Dominic with a shiny stare. “I thought that was enough. To build something and watch it grow.”
He took a deep drag on his cigar, then puffed out a ball of smoke which disappeared instantly, sucked out of existence by expensive technology. “It’s not enough. Maybe it’s because I can’t stand the thought that I’m dying. Because I want to hang on and push my way into the future in whatever way I can. But I have to pass it on. I need a successor to take the garden I’ve planted and grow it into something even bigger and better.”
Tarrant squeezed his hand again and Dominic fought the urge to squeeze back.
“You’re the one. You’re my heir. Hell, you even look just like me.” He slapped the leather arm of his chair with delight. The exertion made him cough a bit.
Dominic looked him right in the face. “I’m not going to be your heir.”
“What do you mean? Of course you are! You’re perfect. Even a retail entrepreneur yourself. I had no idea that young upstart revolutionizing the way gourmet food was sold was my own flesh and blood. When Sam found you and told me, I couldn’t stop laughing. You can’t fight destiny, dear boy.”
So Tarrant hadn’t even recognized his name in the papers. That was a cold splash of reality. Dominic had always imagined his famous father sitting up and taking notice as his stores got raves in the press.
When Tarrant snatched those bankrupt stores out from under him, Dominic had taken grim satisfaction in the idea that at least his father was paying attention to him. Maybe even making some kind of alpha-dog jostle for dominance.
Volatile Chemistry (Billionaires' Secrets Book 1) Page 4