by Aimee Duffy
Alexa was his only option.
‘No, you’re staying here for the next four weeks, helping me plan the charity ball. I think that’s the least you can do after showing up here like this.’ He ran his finger up the gaping slit at the front, traced the outline of her cleavage. She gasped and tiny bumps rose on her golden skin. Arousal zapped down to his groin. Again, he ignored it.
‘And you’ll behave yourself,’ he added, in a no-nonsense tone.
Her stormy eyes cleared to flinty silver. She slid her hands down his chest and pushed, but he didn’t let go. ‘Don’t cause a scene, Alexa.’
She darted a glance around the room, then scowled up at him. They continued to dance while her eyes shot daggers. He grinned, though he was far from amused.
‘I have a business to run. I can’t drop everything and anyway, why should I? My dress is gorgeous. People have been staring all night.’ Her gaze dropped, but not before he caught the shame there.
He gritted his teeth. Men had been gaping all night at the silky skin on display. That was his point exactly. ‘Staring in disbelief, I imagine. I’m respected in these circles, Alexa and I’ve worked hard to gain that respect. Having a woman on my arm so scantily dressed lowers people’s opinion as Santos changing his mind proved. You will make it up to me.’
He spun her around. By the time she was back in his arms, her eyes flashed stormy black. ‘That wasn’t my intention, but I’m not going to apologise for being who I am. You asked me here. What did you expect?’
‘I expected more class from Robert Green’s daughter.’
‘I’m not, nor will I ever be, anything like my father.’ Steely resolve hardened her eyes.
Ric wondered why she spoke of her father with such barely contained anger. She’d been born into this life with everything. A family and the best start a person could ask for. Ric had been left on the streets, barely a child of five, with a bleak chance of survival.
The song ended and his frustration grew. He didn’t release her. Instead he loomed over her with a hard expression of his own. ‘You owe me for this, and you will work with me to organise the fundraiser.’
Her hands fisted in his jacket and she frowned. ‘No.’
‘Stop acting like a child and take responsibility for your actions.’
Alexa jolted back like he’d struck her. ‘I am not acting like a child.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m twenty-three. Not forty.’
‘At your age I started running Hotel Castillo.’
‘Explains why you’re so dull.’ She placed a hand on her hip, causing the cut down the front of her dress to gape wider. His gaze was drawn to the half globes exposed by the material. ‘It doesn’t explain why you want me working with you. Don’t you have a party planner?’
‘She’s indisposed for a while.’
‘The plot thickens.’ Her sarcastic tone grated on his temper. She glared at him. ‘And my lack of class was the perfect excuse to guilt me into working with you, but you can forget about trying to make me feel bad for losing Santos. I have a business to run back home and no inclination to spend any more time with you.’
‘I didn’t ask. You will work with me, and maybe even rid yourself of your wild-child reputation by doing so.’
She opened and closed her mouth a few times. Ric could see she was considering what he’d said. He resisted the urge to smirk and pulled her into another dance. Alexa’s brows creased, but she didn’t pull away. He smelled victory.
Alexa’s bravado had buggered off. Again he’d called her childish and again it hit her like a hard slap to the face—harder than when blondie had told her husband Alexa was trash. But she wasn’t going to be bullied into working with him, even though she could see what he said made sense. And she did feel a trickle of guilt about losing Santos and wearing the dress.
Not that she cared what everyone thought about her, but if she lost a major benefactor for a good cause, she had to try and make that right. Still, Alexa didn’t know what she could do to persuade Santos to attend. Maybe helping out would prove she wasn’t the spoilt little rich girl everyone thought she was.
She’d started her business, Together, two years ago, but she knew the money she made barely paid the cost of living in London and she wouldn’t touch her trust fund. It was just another reminder that she was her father’s possession.
‘What kind of coverage will your event have?’ She had to ask. If the media didn’t hit London with the news she’d helped organise such an event it was pointless.
Ric grinned down as he swayed her to the music. Still, she could see his eyes were tight with anger. Alexa straightened her shoulders.
‘It depends how much interest we can raise.’ He shrugged. ‘I came here tonight with the hope of convincing people like Santos to come. He’s well known in society and the more people like him who attend, the more media coverage.’ He frowned down at her. ‘And while telling men you meet in London clubs that you have no underwear on may score you a date, it won’t here Alexa.’
He scowled down at her. She was galled at his arrogant assumption and the suspicion that he knew exactly who she was grew stronger, but now at least she understood why he was angry. Ric was all about respect. Plus, if she was going to do this, she’d need as many people like that to attend the ball to benefit her—which meant hunting down Santos and charming him into changing his mind.
But organising a party this big and glamorous wasn’t something she’d done before. Still, she couldn’t let fear get in the way. She had planned lots of parties for her friends and herself, this couldn’t be much different.
‘For the record, I don’t make a habit of informing people whether or not I’m wearing knickers.’ His lips twitched. ‘If I agree to do this, I have a few conditions.’
He cocked an incredulous brow. Alexa smiled. If he thought she was going to bow at his feet he had another think coming.
‘For the next week I get to enjoy my holiday. After, I’ll have to spend some time on my work. I’ll need access to a landline and the internet.’
His expression smoothed out. Alexa thought she saw a hint of relief in his dark eyes. ‘All are reasonable requests, but I do need you visit a potential venue with me tomorrow since it looks like the new resort won’t be ready in time. A few hours should do it. You can meet me in the lobby at eight.’
She pressed her lips into a firm line. ‘Fine. Lobby at eight. But from midday I’m off the clock.’
‘Fine.’ His dry tone mirrored hers. Holding out his hand, he said ‘Let’s network.’
Alexa grimaced and he laughed. She knew she had to do this if she wanted the ball to gain international interest. Pulling herself together and remembering everything her father had taught her about how to act at places like this, she placed her hand in his.
Chapter Three
Reluctantly, Ric admitted his opinion of Alexa wasn’t one hundred per cent founded. After their agreement, she’d been more than arm candy at the party, and even won over a few couples Ric never thought would attend one of his functions which almost made up for losing Santos’ respect. Usually he kept to himself and avoided social events like he avoided women looking for his ring on their finger. But it was long past time for him to start trying to make a difference to the children who couldn’t help themselves, and that meant showing his face in places he didn’t fit.
Alexa had been a welcome relief from the constant nagging in his mind that he didn’t belong there. Despite her choice in clothing. Heat flared in his stomach, but he vehemently ignored it. She was off limits.
He arrived in the lobby at seven fifty to organise a car to take them to their destination. With the builders stalling while the contract was renegotiated, he doubted the resort would be ready in time. He could only find two venues available at short notice, but he didn’t think either would be suitable.
The sound of high heels clicking against the marble floor caught his attention. He took in her attire—which again showed off more than it covered. A black ple
ated mini-skirt barely concealed the apex of her thighs and a white vest-top cut far too low.
Irritation and lust warred throughout his body, making his good mood take a nose dive. ‘That is what you deem appropriate to visit an exclusive venue?’ he asked in disbelief.
Alexa smirked. ‘It’s hot outside. If you have a problem with the way I dress, you’ll have to get over it.’
If he took her to Mr Romero’s mansion in the hills dressed as she was now, the old man might have a heart attack. Or worse, refuse to rent out his second home to Ric for the ball.
‘You’re not going dressed like that. Come on.’ He turned, sure another glimpse at her outfit would make his suit trousers too tight to be comfortable.
‘Wait.’ The staccato click of her heels on the marble floor confirmed she followed him. A shred of his irritation fell away and his lips curved involuntary. ‘I’ll dress how I want.’ He stalked past one of the restaurants and headed straight on. ‘Ric, where are we going?’
He didn’t answer until he’d reached a door marked ‘Personnel Only’.
‘We’re getting you something appropriate to wear.’ He unlocked the door, pushed it open then stepped inside. Flicking on the switch, he turned back to her. ‘Come on.’
She eyed him like she was wondering if he had a screw loose. With her choice of clothing, he wondered the same about her. He had told her where they were going.
‘There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing.’ She propped a hand on her hip and he knew she wasn’t going to do this the easy way.
Ric decided arguing would be a lost cause. Instead, he turned and strode over to one of the racks filled with clothes and searched for a uniform in what he guessed was her size. The click of her heels sounded behind him. He grinned again. Handling Alexa was becoming easier.
‘Here,’ he pulled out a knee length navy pencil skirt, a jacket and a white blouse which looked like they’d fit. ‘Try these on.’ He turned to her with a no nonsense expression.
Alexa wrinkled her nose as she looked at the garments. ‘You want me to wear navy?’
She made the word sound like an expletive. Ric couldn’t stop his lips from curving this time. ‘You’re working, Alexa. Not a going to a fashion show.’
She opened her mouth to protest, but he shoved the garments into her hands. ‘Put these on.’
Scowling, she said ‘There’s no way I’m wearing this…this…shapeless granny skirt.’ She held the hanger out in front of her. ‘Look at it.’
Fighting his amusement, he clung to his irritation at being disobeyed. ‘You can’t go to Mr Romero’s dressed like you are now. Would you rent your favourite property to a renowned party girl in a mini-skirt?’
She frowned at him. ‘What’s the difference from wearing this—’ she indicated the black scrap of material with her free hand. ‘To this?’ And held up the hotel uniform. ‘He’ll still know who I am.’
‘Appearances are everything. If you look respectable, people will believe you are.’
She eyed the garments in her hands with distaste twisting her lips. ‘Fine. I’ll wear it to his house, but the minute we get back I’m changing.’
Ric smirked. ‘We don’t have all day.’
She frowned at him. ‘A little privacy?’
Leaning against the rail, he folded his arms. ‘Don’t be shy. It’s not like I haven’t seen you in much less before.’
A smile played around her lips. ‘Yes, but you haven’t seen me without a bra. So if you don’t mind…’
Lust arrowed to his groin at the same time his gaze fell to her chest. A number of curses sounded in his head as he realised she was telling the truth. God, was she trying to shatter his control?
Swallowing, he made his way to the exit. ‘Change quickly. We leave in five minutes.’ He closed the door behind him and prayed for the strength to survive the morning with her, knowing she had nothing on beneath her shirt.
As they wound their way up the mountain in the back of the limo, she gaped through the window at the massive mansion built into the hillside. It reminded her of a smaller Buckingham Palace and the way it spread out over four tiers down the hill made her wonder how long it had taken to build.
With colouring and pillars similar to those of the White House, Alexa guessed Mr Romero had more than his fair share of wealth. This house alone could probably keep all the homeless children in Europe off the streets.
But as impressive as it was, Alexa didn’t see it as a place for Ric’s ball. Personal parties with friends, family and possibly world leaders, yes. Not a place to raise funds for a charity. It was too showy, impersonal and other than the obvious value, there wasn’t anything exciting about the property.
The car pulled up at the front door on the lower level. Ric leaned close and she was hit with his spicy smell. On the drive over his scent had blown out of his open window, but now they were motionless it tickled her senses and aroused her loony hormones to dangerous levels. Despite the air conditioning, her body heated and her skin prickled.
‘He doesn’t speak English well, so I’ll do most of the talking.’
His voice was a deep rumble, all husky and so delicious she had the brief desire to lick him. Pull yourself together, Green.
‘Try to memorise the dimensions of the ballroom and if we decide to go for it, we can work out the rest later.’
She nodded, afraid to speak in case her voice came out high pitched and desperate. It was bad enough she was stuck working with him for a month, fantasising about the git after he’d blackmailed her twice now was out of the question. Taking a deep breath, Alexa opened the door. Ric’s driver stood next to the car, a frown on his brow. She offered him a smile she hoped looked apologetic, but she was glad to get away from Ric before she did something ridiculous, like give in to the urge and lick him.
Ric reached her side and she smoothed a hand over the ugly skirt, trying to get rid of the wrinkles.
‘You look fine. Respectable,’ he stated.
She wrinkled her nose, but didn’t comment. With a hand on the small of her back he guided her over the gravel driveway. The tingling in her skin morphed into a swift burn, flaming over her body from head to toe. Alexa wished she’d worn a bra, that way she could ditch the horrible jacket instead of sweating buckets in the early morning sunshine. After knocking once, he stepped away from her.
A man dressed formally in black trousers, and a white shirt and tie combo opened the door. He looked too young to be the man Ric described as Mr Romero. Must be the butler or something.
The man greeted them in Spanish and invited them in. The entrance lobby showcased a staircase made of glass, moving up and across the hill at every level. She stood for a second, dazed at the sight, never having seen anything like it.
Ric’s arm slid around her lower back and she snapped her attention back to him. He smirked down at her, as if to say he knew it was spectacular and that’s exactly why he picked the place. Still, something niggled that this wasn’t the right venue for Ric’s charity. They were led through to what she assumed to be the lounge, if the four large sofas and fireplace was anything to go by, but what drew her attention was the glass wall with the whole of Marbella on the other side.
Mr Romero rose from one of the sofas and Ric introduced Alexa. She smiled politely and allowed Mr Romero to kiss the back of her hand while Ric probably explained in Spanish that she couldn’t speak their tongue.
Just like last night, the sound of his voice curling around the foreign words made her tingle all over. Needing a distraction, she sauntered over to the window to let the men talk business and looked down at the city below.
Mr Romero must feel like God waking up on his mountain and looking down on all this every day. He obviously loved the city to have such a spectacular view of it and she could see why. Every building was a tribute to architecture. From the little brick houses scattered all over to the skyscraper hotels, like Ric’s parents’, it was the perfect mix of modern and old, dotted along a g
olden beach and light blue ocean.
The harbour was further away, and she ran her gaze over the yachts docked along the side. Then further out to the middle of the water. The biggest yacht of all was anchored in the centre and looked more like a mini cruise ship than an actual boat.
‘Alexa, we’re going to see the ballroom now.’
She turned to the sound of Ric’s voice and followed the men through the house, snatching another peek at the boat over her shoulder. If Ric wanted to make an impression with his party, the boat would probably be better than a hillside mansion.
Ric sipped the glass of champagne Mr Romero had offered, his mind lost in thought. The midday sun shone down from above and the heat on the balcony was stifling. He had removed his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, but Alexa kept her jacket firmly in place.
He’d almost offered to take it for her when Mr Romero invited them up for a drink and bite to eat before they left, but remembered the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra and the linen blouse he’d made her wear was almost translucent. The fact she must be overheating ate at his conscience, but if he wrapped this up quick they would be in the air conditioned limo in no time.
Mr Romero excused himself to take a call and he noticed Alexa’s glass sat mostly untouched on the table next to her as she stared out across the city below them.
‘What do you think of this as a venue?’ he asked.
Ric had been excited about it when he arrived, but the ballroom in the house was situated back into the mountain and regardless of the size and bright lights, had given him the feeling they were in a coffin a lot deeper than six foot under.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t see it for your ball. An audience with world leaders, maybe even a few queens, but not to raise money for homeless children.’ She turned to him, her expression unapologetic and went on. ‘Why ask my opinion? I’m sure you’ll go ahead and book it regardless of what I think.’