Secrets of a Ruthless Tycoon

by Cathy Williams

  He had informed her that there wasn’t a single woman alive who wouldn’t have chewed off his arm to accept an offer of marriage from him, which had been another tactical error.

  He had dropped all talk of anything and concentrated on just making her feel comfortable in his presence, whilst marvelling that she could carry on keeping him at arm’s length, considering how close they had been. But by this point he had been clued up enough to make sure that he didn’t hark back to the past. Nothing to remind her about how much she clearly loathed him, having found out about his lies.

  Never in his life had Leo put this much effort into one woman.

  And never in his life had he had so many cold showers. From having given no thought whatsoever to settling down, far less having a child, he now seemed fixated by the baby growing inside her and, the more fixated he became, the more determined he was that she would marry him. He was turned on by everything about her. Turned on by the way she moved, the way she looked at him, by all her little gestures that seemed ingrained inside his head so that, even when she wasn’t around, he was thinking about her constantly.

  Was it a case of the inaccessible becoming more and more desirable? Was it because she was now carrying his baby that his body seemed to be on fire for her all the time? Or was it just that he hadn’t stopped wanting her because it had been a highly physical relationship that had not been given the opportunity of dying a natural death?

  He didn’t know and he didn’t bother analysing it. He just knew that he still wanted her more than he could remember wanting anyone. He wanted her to be his. The thought of some other man stepping into his shoes, doing clever things behind the bar of the pub and having a say in his child’s welfare, made him grit his teeth together in impotent rage.

  The estate agent, a simpering woman in her thirties, was saying something about the number of bedrooms and Leo scowled.

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Eight! Perfect for having the family over!’

  ‘Too many. And I can look at it from here and see straight away that it would be far too big for the person I have in mind.’

  ‘Perhaps the lucky lady would like to pop along and have a look for herself? It’s really rather grand inside...’

  Leo flinched at the word ‘grand’. He pictured Brianna wiping the bar with a cloth, standing back in her old jeans and sloppy jumper to survey her handiwork, before retiring to the comfy sofa in the lounge which had been with her practically since she’d been a kid. She wouldn’t have a clue what to do with ‘grand’ and he had a gut feeling that if he settled on anything like this she would end up blaming him.

  How, he thought as house number nine bit the dust, had he managed to end up with the one woman in the world to whom a marriage proposal was an insult and who was determined to fight him every inch of the way? Even though the air sizzled between them with a raw, elemental electricity that neither of them could deny.

  But at least he had managed to get her to London. It was a comforting thought as his Ferrari ate up the miles back to the city centre and his penthouse apartment.

  He had appealed to her sense of fairness. He wanted to be there while she was pregnant and what better way than for her to move to London? No need to live in his apartment. He would find somewhere else for her, somewhere less central. It would be great for Bridget as well. Indeed, it would be a blessing in disguise, for Bridget was tiring of the concrete jungle of inner London. She was back on her feet, albeit in a restricted way, and the constant crowds terrified her. They could share something small but cosy in West London. He would personally see to it that a manager was located for the pub...

  She had acquiesced. That had been ten days ago and, although he had made sure to visit them both every evening after work, he had ostensibly dropped all mention of marriage.

  That aggressive need to conquer had been forced into retreat and he was now playing a waiting game. He wasn’t sure what would happen if that waiting game didn’t work and he preferred not to dwell on that. Instead, he phoned his secretary and found out what other gems were available on the property market in picturesque Berkshire.

  ‘Too impressive,’ he told her about his last failed viewing. It was added to all the other too ‘something or other’ that had characterised the last eight viewings, all of which had come to nothing. He laughed when she suggested that he send someone in his place to at least narrow the possibilities.

  He couldn’t imagine anyone he knew having the slightest idea as to what to look for when it came to Brianna. They were people who only knew a London crowd, socialites for whom there could be nothing that could ever be too grand.

  ‘Find me some more properties.’ He concluded his conversation with his long-suffering PA. ‘And forget about the marble bathrooms and indoor swimming pools. Go smaller.’

  He hung up. It wasn’t yet two-thirty in the afternoon. He had never taken this much time off work in his life before. Except for when he had voluntarily marooned himself at Brianna’s pub. And yet, he was driven to continue his search. Work, meetings and deals would just have to take a back seat.

  His secretary called him on his mobile just as he was leaving the M25, heading into London.

  ‘It’s a small village near, er, Sunningdale. Er, shall I read you the details? It’s just on the market. Today, in fact. Thank goodness for estate agents who remember we exist...’

  Leo thought that most estate agents would remember any client for whom money was no object. ‘I’ll check that out now.’ He was already halfway back to London but he manoeuvred his car off the motorway and back out. ‘Cancel my five o’clock meeting.’

  ‘You’ve already cancelled Sir Hawkes twice.’

  ‘In that case, let Reynolds cover. He’s paid enough; a little delegation in his direction will do him the world of good.’

  He made it to the small village in good time and, the very second he saw the picture-postcard cottage with the sprawling garden in the back and the white picket fence at the front, he knew he had hit the jackpot.

  He didn’t bother with an offer. He would pay the full asking price and came with cash in hand. The estate agent couldn’t believe his luck. Leo waved aside the man’s ingratiating and frankly irritating bowing and scraping and elicited all the pertinent details he needed for an immediate purchase.

  ‘And if the occupants need time to find somewhere else, you can tell them that they’ll be generously compensated over and beyond what they want for the house to leave immediately.’ He named a figure and the estate agent practically swooned. ‘Here’s my card. Call me in an hour and we’ll get the ball rolling. Oh, and I’ll be bringing someone round tomorrow, if not sooner, to look at it. Make sure it’s available.’ He was at his car and the rotund estate agent was dithering behind him, clutching the business card as though it were a gold ingot.

  ‘What if...?’ He cleared his throat anxiously as he was forced to contemplate a possible hitch in clinching his commission. ‘What if the sellers want to wait and see if a better offer comes along?’

  About to slide into the driving seat, Leo paused and looked at the much shorter man with a wry expression. ‘Oh, trust me, that won’t be happening.’

  ‘Sir...’

  ‘Call me——and I’ll be expecting a conversation that I want to hear.’ He left the man staring at him red-faced, perspiring and doubtless contemplating the sickening prospect of sellers who might prove too greedy to accept the quick sale.

  Leo knew better. They simply wouldn’t be able to believe their luck.

  He could easily have made it back to the office to catch the tail end of the meeting he had cancelled at the last minute. Instead, he headed directly to Brianna’s house, which was an effortless drive off the motorway and into London suburbia.

  Brianna heard the low growl of the Ferrari as it pulled up outside the house. It seemed her ears were attuned to the sound. She immediately schooled her expression into one of polite aloofness. In the kitchen Bridget was making them both a cup o
f tea, fussing as she always seemed to do now, clucking around her like a mother hen because she was pregnant, even though Brianna constantly told her that pregnancy wasn’t an illness and that Bridget was the one in need of looking after.

  ‘He’s early this evening!’ Bridget exclaimed with pleasure. ‘I wonder why? I think I’ll give you two a little time together and have a nice, long bath. The doctor says that I should take it easy. You know that.’

  Brianna raised her eyebrows wryly and stood up. ‘I don’t think chatting counts as not taking it easy,’ she pointed out. ‘Besides, you know Leo enjoys seeing you when he gets here.’ Every time she saw them together, she felt a lump of emotion gather at the back of her throat. However cut-throat and ruthless he might be, and however much of a lying bastard he had been, he was always gentle with Bridget. He didn’t call her ‘Mum’ but he treated her with the respect and consideration any mother would expect from her child. And they spoke of all the inconsequential things that happened on a daily basis. Perhaps they had explored the past already and neither wanted to revisit it.

  At any rate, Bridget was a changed person. She looked healthier, more vibrant. The sort of woman who was actually only middle-aged, who could easily get out there and find herself another guy but who seemed perfectly content to age gracefully by herself.

  She quelled the urge to insist to Bridget that she stay put as the older woman began heading to her bedroom on the ground floor—a timely coincidence because the owners of the house from whom they were renting had had to cater for an ageing relative of their own.

  Her stomach clenched as she heard the key being inserted into the front door.

  She still wondered how he had managed to talk her into moving to London, a city she hated because it was too fast, too crowded and too noisy for her tastes.

  But move to London she had, admittedly to a quieter part of the city, and now that she was here she was in danger of becoming just a little too accustomed to having Leo around. Okay, so he didn’t show up every evening, and he never stayed the night, but his presence was becoming an addiction she knew she ought to fight.

  He had dropped all talk of marriage and yet she still felt on red alert the second he walked through the door. Her eyes still feasted surreptitiously on him and, even though she knew that she should be thanking her lucky stars that he was no longer pursuing the whole marriage thing—because he had ‘come to his senses’ and ‘seen the foolishness of hitching his wagon to a woman he didn’t love’—she was oddly deflated by the ease with which he had jettisoned the subject.

  As always, her first sight of him as he strode into the small hallway, with its charming flagstone floor and tiny stained-glass window to one side, was one of intense awareness. She literally felt her mouth go dry.

  ‘You’re here earlier than...um...normal.’ She watched as he dealt her a slashing smile, one that made her legs go to jelly, one that made her want to hurl herself at him and wrap her arms around his neck. Every time she felt like this, she recalled what he had said about any marriage between them having upsides, having the distinct bonus of very good sex...

  Leo’s eyes swept over her in an appraisal that was almost unconscious. He took in the loose trousers, because there was just a hint of a stomach beginning to show; the baggy clothes that would have rendered any woman drab and unappealing but which seemed unbelievably sexy when she was wearing them.

  ‘Is Bridget around?’ He had to drag his eyes away from her. Hell, she had told him in no uncertain terms that mutual sexual attraction just wasn’t enough on which to base a marriage, so how was it that she still turned him on? Even more so, now that she was carrying his baby.

  ‘She’s upstairs resting.’

  ‘There’s something I want to show you.’ He had no doubt that he would be able to view the property at this hour. He was, after all, in the driving seat. ‘So...why don’t you get your coat on? It’s a drive away.’

  ‘What do you want to show me?’

  ‘It’s a surprise.’

  ‘You know I hate surprises.’ She blushed when he raised one eyebrow, amused at that titbit of shared confidence between them.

  ‘This won’t be the sort of surprise you got two years ago when you returned from a weekend away to find the pub flooded.’

  ‘I’m not dressed for a meal out.’ Nor was she equipped for him to resume his erosion of her defences and produce more arguments for having his way...although she killed the little thrill at the prospect of having him try and convince her to marry him.

  ‘You look absolutely fine.’ He looked her over with a thoroughness that brought hectic colour to her cheeks. And, while he disappeared to have a few quick words with Bridget, Brianna took the opportunity—cursing herself, because why on earth did it matter, really?—to dab on a little bit of make-up and do something with her hair. She also took off the sloppy clothes and, although her jeans were no longer a perfect fit, she extracted the roomiest of them from the wardrobe and twinned them with a brightly coloured thick jumper that at least did flattering things for her complexion.

  ‘So, where are we going?’ They had cleared some of the traffic and were heading out towards the motorway. ‘Why are we leaving London?’

  Leo thought of the perfect cottage nestled in the perfect grounds with all those perfect features and his face relaxed into a smile. ‘And you’re smiling.’ For some reason that crooked half-smile disarmed her. Here in the car, as they swept out of London on a remarkably fine afternoon, she felt infected with a holiday spirit, a reaction to the stress she had been under for the past few weeks. ‘A man’s allowed to smile, isn’t he?’ He flashed her a sideways glance that warmed her face. ‘We’re having a baby, Brianna. Being cold towards one another is not an option.’

  Except, she thought, he hadn’t been cold towards her. He had done his damnedest to engage her in conversation and, thus far, he had remained undeterred by her lack of enthusiasm for engagement. She chatted because Bridget was usually there with them and he, annoyingly, ignored her cagey responses and acted as though everything was perfectly fine between them. He cheerfully indulged his mother’s obvious delight in the situation and, although neither of them had mentioned the marriage proposal, they both knew that Bridget was contemplating that outcome with barely contained glee.

  ‘I hadn’t realised that I was being cold,’ she said stiffly. Her eyes drifted to his strong forearms on the steering wheel. He had tossed his jacket in the back seat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. She couldn’t look even at that slither of bare skin, the sprinkling of dark hair on his arms, without her mind racing backwards in time to when they were lovers and those hands were exploring every inch of her body.

  ‘No, sometimes you’re not,’ he murmured in a low voice and Brianna looked at him narrowly.

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning that there are many times when your voice is cool but the glances you give me are anything but...’ He switched the radio on to soft classical music, leaving her to ponder that remark in silence. Did he expect her to say something in answer to that? And what could she say? She knew that he had an effect on her; she knew that she just couldn’t stop herself from sliding those sidelong glances at him, absorbing the way he moved, the curve of his mouth, the lazy dark eyes. Of course he would have noticed! What didn’t he notice?

  She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she only noticed that they had completely left London behind when fields, scattered villages and towns replaced the hard strip of the motorway, and then she turned to him with confusion.

  ‘We’re in the countryside.’ She frowned and then her breath caught in her throat as he glanced across to her with amusement.

  ‘Well spotted.’

  ‘It’s a bit far to go for a meal out.’ Perhaps he wanted to talk to her about something big, something important. Maybe he was going to tell her that he had listened to everything she had said and had come to the conclusion that he could survive with her returning to Ireland whils
t he popped up occasionally to see his offspring. Perhaps he thought that a destination far away would be suitable for that kind of conversation, because it would allow her time to absorb it on the return trip back into London.

  Had having her at close quarters reminded him of how little he wanted any kind of committed relationship? Had familiarity bred the proverbial contempt? For maybe the first time in his life, he had been tied to a routine of having to curtail his work life to accommodate both her and Bridget. Had he seen that as a dire warning of what might be expected should he pursue his intention of marrying her, and had it put him off?

  The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that whatever he had to say over a charming pub dinner in the middle of nowhere would be...

  Something she wouldn’t want to hear.

  Yet she knew that that was the wrong reaction. She needed to be strong and determined in the road she wanted to follow. She didn’t want a half-baked marriage with a guy who felt himself trapped, for whom the only option looming was to saddle himself with her for the rest of his life. No way!

  But her heart was beating fast and there was a ball of misery unfurling inside her with each passing signpost.

  When the car turned off the deserted road, heading up a charming avenue bordered by trees not yet in leaf, she lay back and half-closed her eyes.

  She opened them as they drew up outside one of the prettiest houses she had ever seen.

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘This is what I wanted to show you.’ Leo could barely contain the satisfaction in his voice. He had been sold on first sight. On second sight, he was pleased to find that there was no let-down. It practically had her name written all over it.

  ‘You wanted to show me a house?’

  ‘Come on.’ He swung out of the car and circled round to hold her door open for her, resisting the urge to help her out, because she had already told him that she hadn’t suddenly morphed into a piece of delicate china simply because she was pregnant.