Harlequin Presents--June 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Dani Collins

  “What?”

  “Getting dressed down by you for all my various sins.”

  Clare bared her teeth in a mockery of a smile. “No one was more disappointed than me at the blatant lack of those sins. I might have to write to the ruthless playboy billionaire club and have your title revoked. Instead of shadows of shady deals, all I could find was a veritable halo, which just needs a little polish.” Clare didn’t wait for him deny it. “We need to shine a light on the charity programs and drives that are sponsored by Athleta.”

  That mobile mouth narrowed into a straight line. “I don’t give to various charities for publicity,” he announced in an almost regal way. As if he expected it to be the beginning and end of the matter.

  Clare frowned. Usually, with most of her clients—those with either old money or new—she had to work very hard to convince them that not every small bit of charity was something that could be used for PR. “Whether you give all these large amounts of money,” she said, pointing a manicured nail at the figures, “for publicity or not doesn’t matter anymore. The pertinent fact is that you do. Give, that is. Believe it or not, Dev, you’re going to be one of my easiest clients.”

  With his arm snaked over the back of the couch, and his long legs stretched in front of him, she couldn’t help thinking he reclined like a maharaja. The corners of his mouth twitched and that dimple—that damned dimple of his—winked at her again. “I do believe that that is the highest compliment you’ve ever paid me.”

  Clare snorted. “Don’t go strutting around just yet. But, yes, it is. I don’t have to manufacture reasons to show you in a good light. Or convince you that your charity work needs to be more than just a sop to your conscience. I’ve closely followed Athleta’s charity work. It’s why I wanted to work with you.”

  “You have made it more than clear that it’s only the job that’s important to you, Clare. For the record, I’m no longer under any kind of misconception that you hid yourself on my yacht to seduce me.”

  Clare couldn’t quite meet his gaze then. Knowing that he would see how horribly she was still attracted to him. Not that he probably didn’t know.

  Still there was a difference between him guessing and being given that information explicitly. “The world needs to know that Athleta is not rotten all the way through. That you, at the core of it, are still sound. That it was just one limb that was diseased and you quickly cut it off.”

  Any hint of humor disappeared from his face. “And I also severed everything that limb influenced,” he retorted instantly. “Isn’t that enough?”

  Clare gentled her voice. Not just to appease the hint of bitterness she heard in his tone but because she understood where it was coming from. There was something very deep and complex going on with him, however much she wanted to continue believing that he was nothing but another shallow pool. “Would you give your trust back to someone once it was broken so easily?”

  He looked away, his jaw tight. But as she’d known already, Dev was a man who faced the truth, always. Whether it painted him in a good light or not. Hand pushing roughly through his hair, he turned to face her, his dark brown gaze full of shadows that she couldn’t see past. “No. I would never give my trust back once it was lost.”

  She’d meant to persuade him that it was going to take time and a little effort to convince the public, because he’d already, and had always done, the things that mattered most for a company’s image anyway. But the vehemence with which he talked about his trust being broken... It found an answering echo within Clare.

  “The various charities you give to—girls’ education and empowerment through Asia, funding learning disabilities research in the US, youth scholarships for inner city kids... All these are things you and your company should be enormously proud of. It’s not enough to do good, Dev. Especially now. It’s also necessary to set an example. All the public normally sees is that you’re basically living a life of extravagance and luxury and that you’re this hot, athletic, aspirational figure that every average Joe wants to be and that every average Jane wants to be with.”

  Clare patiently waited for his laughter to subside. It wasn’t a hardship because the man was insanely beautiful, and she was no better than the average Jane she’d just mentioned.

  “You have such a way with words, Clare. You’re very good for a man’s ego.”

  Clare shook her head. “I’m not pandering to your ego at all. I’m trying to tell you that it’s time to show people, especially your female employees, that you’re more than some oversexed playboy billionaire.”

  He winced. “Oversexed playboy billionaire...is that how you see me?”

  Clare pursed her lips. Did the man intend to jump on every little thing she said? “How I see you doesn’t matter at all. We’re going to drip feed as much information about Athleta’s various charity activities as we can. Take this recent visit to São Paulo, for example. What the world thinks is you’re here to party with some rowdy friends of yours. And yet I know you came here to work with a designer who uses recyclable materials for a new kind of sole for running shoes and that you attended a conference that’s addressing the preservation of the rain forest.”

  “You really have done your research,” Dev replied, surprise in his tone.

  Clare felt a pang of satisfaction. “I told you, I’m very thorough when it comes to my job. The next item on the agenda... We need to do an interview with Ms. Jones,” she said, mentioning the woman who’d exposed the harassment at Athleta with enormous courage.

  “That’s out of the question.” Dev looked as if someone had punched him. “I’m not going to hound the poor woman into giving a statement just to make myself look better in front of the world.”

  Clare leaned forward, determined to persuade him to see reason. “But what if she agrees? What if—”

  “You’ve already contacted her, haven’t you?”

  Clare stilled at the outraged look in his eyes. “I’m not going to apologize for doing my job.”

  He sighed. “Fine. But I don’t want Ms. Jones to be pressured in any way that she’s not comfortable with. She’s been through enough. Is that clear?”

  “I understand.”

  “What do you suggest I do next?” he said, his brow still twisted into a scowl.

  “We’re going to do a couple of interviews on a sports channel and a major network channel with your sisters.”

  If she thought he’d been angry before, it was nothing to the fury that etched his face now. This emotion was not hot like before. This was icy cold, brittle, hard, turning his features from simply stunningly handsome to harsh and rugged.

  With a curse, he pushed up onto his feet and moved away from the living area. She craned her neck up, her gaze hungrily trailing the economic efficiency with which he moved. The black trousers he wore clung to his powerful thighs, the white shirt highlighting his broad shoulders and lean waist.

  She took the time to simply study him. He’d been blessed with inordinately good looks, and yet it was the energy with which he occupied a space that fascinated her.

  It was several minutes before he turned back to face her, his temper firmly under control. “I was ready to agree to your suggestions because one of my employees wronged an innocent woman. But the responsibility for that lies with me, as CEO. There is no need to drag my family into this.”

  “But an illustrious family like yours can only be an advantage,” Clare retorted, and then instantly wanted to pull her words back.

  It seemed that her ill-thought words had only pierced anew whatever wound Dev was determined to ignore.

  “Let’s not get into the advantages and disadvantages my illustrious family has afforded me. It’s above your paygrade.”

  The dismissal was clear and cold. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told him that she’d handled a lot of difficult clients in her time. And yet Dev’s dismissal stun
g her deeper than any other. It shouldn’t have, considering their “business-only” relationship.

  But she refused to let him railroad her, not in this. “I have no interest in digging into matters you deem forbidden, Mr. Kohli,” she said haughtily. “But neither will I be told how to do my job. During my research, I discovered that your older sister is a world-renowned neurosurgeon and your younger sister is a state diplomat. We need to show the world that you’re not intimidated by powerful women.”

  “Doesn’t the list of women I’ve dated show that? I’ve dated several influential, wealthy women in their own right.”

  “No. That just shows that you’re allergic to commitment and that you’re pickier than a five-year-old when it comes to what he wants for dinner.”

  That shut him up promptly. Clare bit her lip to stop smiling. “At this point, it’s not just that you and Athleta are being roasted everywhere. But have you wondered why your invitation to the Ethics and Equity in Sports panel has been canceled?”

  “How the hell do you know that?” he said incredulously. “It’s only just happened!”

  Clare shrugged. “I have my sources.”

  “You don’t have to remind me why I hired you,” he said dryly.

  “Then stop being so difficult, Dev. If you want to bring about change in your company, it has to start with you. No one said it was going to be easy.”

  “Are you charging me extra for the motivational speech?” he quipped. Humor was his default setting, Clare was beginning to see. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t hearing what she had to say.

  “I’m just as excited as you are by the changes you want to make. I’ve been out there, in the business world. The glass ceiling is very much alive and thriving, Dev. It’s encouraging to see powerful men want to do their part in fostering an equitable environment for women.”

  “You’re quite the force to be reckoned with, aren’t you?”

  “Why is there a question mark at the end of that?” Clare said, feeling as if the ground was being stolen from under her. It wasn’t a bad sensation. Just a floaty one.

  He frowned, his gaze sweeping over her features, as if he was searching for something. “Because there’s one piece that doesn’t really fit.”

  “What?”

  “Why such a smart woman like you would make a deal with an unscrupulous Mafia boss. Even for much-needed capital. With your asset and liability columns and what little I know of you, I just don’t see you taking a horrible risk like that.”

  Clare swallowed and gathered the papers she’d spread out on the coffee table in front of her. The unvarnished grain of the oak table felt like an anchor steadying her. She didn’t know why she was hiding the truth from him.

  Even Amy and Bea assumed she’d inherited the money after her dad had died, because the two things had happened so close together. She didn’t know if it was her own fault for having foolishly trusted her father when he’d said he wanted to help her. She wasn’t sure if it was shame or grief that sat like a boulder on her chest every time she thought of herself so full of hope and happiness when her dad had called her and she’d realized she’d be able to start her business.

  She just couldn’t.

  “I told you. That was a naive decision I made.” She switched off her laptop and picked it up. She was glad for the steadiness of her tone as she walked up the steps and faced him. “Both your sisters have already got back to me saying that they would be delighted to do it. I’ll arrange for the interview through a virtual channel. I imagine that would considerably lessen the stress you’re feeling at the prospect?”

  He didn’t quite give her the smile she wanted but that warmth flooded his eyes again. Clare felt as if she’d won the biggest lottery jackpot.

  “Yes, thank you. Make sure any personal tidbits my sisters might mention are edited out. You’re going to have a hell of a long conversation on your hands.”

  She nodded, intensely curious about his sisters, his family, everything about him. “And the contracts? Have they been looked over by your team of lawyers?”

  An instant shutter fell over his expression. “Not yet. Don’t worry, Clare. The contract is yours.” He went on then, as if he wanted to fill the silence. “I’m having dinner in Rio de Janeiro tomorrow evening.” His gaze did a quick survey of her, but didn’t linger. “It might be a good idea for you to do some shopping in Rio when we arrive.”

  “Yes, please. Running away from a Mob boss and his thugs is the one disaster scenario I didn’t pack for.”

  “Perfect. Then you can join us for dinner.”

  Clare’s heart did a thump against her rib cage. “Join you? For dinner? You mean, as your partner for the evening?”

  He shrugged. As if the matter didn’t require further scrutiny. “I’m meeting an old friend and his wife, who’s a notorious gossip. Showing up in front of her as my partner is like taking a front-page ad out that we’re together.”

  “Together?” Clare asked, a totally unnecessary, girlish flutter in her chest region. “Like a couple together? Or like a playboy and his PR guard dog together?”

  Laughter lines crinkled out from the edges of his eyes as he threw his head back and roared. It was fast becoming one of her favorite sounds. “Your imagination needs to be put to better use than these scenarios you keep thinking up for us.”

  Clare straightened her shoulders. “If this friend’s wife is such a gossip...”

  “Then it’s not a bad idea to fake it in front of her to help my reputation. A little smoke to start up a rumor that I’m falling head over heels with the mystery lady tucked away on my yacht...” He sighed when she didn’t respond. “I thought being linked to me was what you wanted.”

  “For safety’s sake, yes. But pretending in front of an old friend of yours is a completely different matter. Do you want me to flutter my eyelashes at you and simper?”

  Dev grinned. “I’m sure you’ll be found out in two seconds if you act all sweet and sugary toward me. Just be yourself—your starchy I’m-making-him-a-better-guy self who frequently likes to dress me down and keep my ego in check. Give your spiel about all the charity programs Athleta runs.”

  “To your friend?”

  “I’ve been asking him to come on board with Athleta for a long time. This might be the push he needs since he’s at a crossroads in his life too. I want to snatch him up before someone else does. He’s a footballer and a world-class athlete.”

  Of course, business was at the center of everything for Dev Kohli. Still, Clare felt a flutter of interest at getting a bona fide glimpse into his personal life. “If he’s a good friend, won’t he know that we’re just...faking it?”

  “No, he won’t. Especially once he meets you.”

  “And what does that mean, exactly? That I’m not up to the usual standard of your stunning girlfriends, so you must have lost your mind over me?”

  Dev lifted his palms, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Are you fishing for compliments, Clare?”

  Her face heated, but she refused to leave it alone. “Of course not.”

  “Fine. You’re just...different,” he admitted.

  “Different boring?” she pressed.

  “Different...complex, okay?” His words had an edge to them now that Clare wanted to spend the rest of the evening teasing out. But that way lay nothing but trouble with a big T.

  “Fine. I’ll talk you up to him. It shouldn’t be that hard. Although I don’t see why you can’t do it yourself.”

  “Is there anything worse than a man so pleased with himself that he won’t stop boasting?”

  Clare nodded, a shaft of pain hitting her in the chest. Her dad had been like that—he’d hardly ever called her, but on the few occasions he had, he’d never asked her about her own life. He’d always gone on and on about his next miraculous venture. Forever blowing his own, tarnished h
orn.

  “I can have the chauffeur bring you back to the yacht after your shopping trip instead of joining us for dinner at the hotel, if you’re afraid?” he taunted when she didn’t respond.

  “Of course I’m not afraid,” Clare snapped, and the devilish man looked satisfied. He’d neatly cornered her into agreeing. “So are we going to stay overnight in Rio de Janeiro?”

  “Yes. The next morning, we’ll leave for St. Lucia.”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you in the lounge for dinner.”

  “Can’t wait to get away from me already?”

  Clare sighed. “I’m not ungrateful. I just... I need to catch my breath. Can you understand that?”

  “Yes.”

  “If one of your staff can get me a map of the city for tomorrow—”

  He was shaking his head even before Clare finished her sentence. “That’s not a good idea.”

  Something about his tone put her back up. “I’ve no idea when I’ll get a chance to see Rio de Janeiro. I’m just going to play tourist. I won’t be late and miss the dinner with your friend.”

  “I don’t think you should venture out by yourself.”

  Fear gripped Clare. “Why? What have you heard?”

  He shook his head again, but Clare had a feeling he wasn’t telling her the complete truth. And that sent a spiral of fear and anger through her.

  “I haven’t yet figured out a way to solve your predicament,” he said gravely. “Until I do, I’m...responsible for you, so I’ll go with you.”

  She reached out to steady herself, her heart thumping dangerously loud in her chest. “I don’t need anybody’s protection. I certainly don’t—”

  “I can tell you’re worried.” His voice was curt, commanding, and Clare held on to it. “You have dark shadows under your eyes. If you won’t talk to me, talk to someone else. Family, or a friend...someone. Or you’re just heading for a—”

  “I don’t have anyone to depend on, okay? I...don’t want to worry my friends as they have enough on their plates right now keeping the business going without me. It’s just me.” Clare fought the sob building in her chest. She knew if she told her friends they’d leap to her defense and might get hurt themselves. They were better off out of it. But with his careful concern for her, Dev was determined to unravel her. “It’s always been just me.” Suddenly, she felt dizzy.